Only Love Can Break Your Heart
It was raining the day Draco Malfoy came to 12 Grimmauld Place, which looking back was an ominous sign, but Draco was never one for divination. Three long knocks echoed through the house before the door creaked open, revealing Draco in a voluminous black robe, his head covered with a cap of raindrops. Draco did have a touch of the theatrical in him. Such things were to be expected of a Malfoy.
His entrance would have been perfect, in fact, had it not been for the half-eaten butter pie that was now oozing into his right ear.
"Oi, no one invited you here, Malfoy, go out the way you came," someone shouted.
Draco had a bad feeling about this.
Everyone stared dumbfounded at Draco as he ate his oatmeal, an elf sneaking in to refill the bowl after he wolfed down the first serving.
"Why are you here, Malfoy?" Ginny said, glaring down at him over her nose.
"Trust me, Weasley, this was my last resort," Draco said. "The better question is why are you here? Ron's not your favourite brother. That's Bill and we know he's around mostly. What's a few scars? And his humanity? Well, if you ask me, 95 is close enough, most can't say that. Or perhaps the rumours are true and you are carrying Longbottom's baby, Merlin save the Wizarding World if that is the case."
Ginny stared at him long and hard before she emptied the pitcher of pumpkin juice on Draco's head. Draco tasted his oatmeal and smiled.
"Brilliant. I should consider selling a line of pumpkin-flavoured oatmeal. Got to get back the Malfoy fortune somehow," Draco said quietly as if to himself.
Ginny stormed off and no one had the heart to ask another question until after breakfast.
Hermione took Draco to a side room after breakfast. She pointed to a chair, indicating that he sit in it. Draco looked around and raised an eyebrow.
"What, I don't warrant Potter?" he asked. "I'm hurt."
"Um, Harry's busy right now. I think it's best that we talk first, Malfoy. And don't try pulling that trick you did with Ginny—deflecting gets you nowhere," Hermione said.
She crossed her arms and began to pace. Hermione stopped and spun on her foot so she was facing him.
"Now why are you here?" she asked.
"It's like I said, this is my last resort," Draco said slowly.
He wanted to make sure she got all the words right. Granger was quick for a Gryffindor, but he didn't want to strain her.
"Your attempts at creating a third side didn't do so well, Malfoy. Voldemort's dead, true, but we've still got quite a bit of clean up left. It's not a game," Hermione said.
"Exactly. My mother's gone missing and my father's still stuck in Azkaban. I go to the other side and I'm bound to get killed, so what choice do I have? First, I find Mother. Then I work on Father's release. Being on your side won't hurt," Draco snapped.
Hermione considered Draco for a moment, squinting slightly.
"Fine. Tomorrow morning is orientation for the new recruits. I'll get Ginny to set you up in a room. Wait outside," Hermione said.
"What, that's it?" Draco asked. "You really must be desperate."
"Shut up, Malfoy and wait outside," Hermione said with a tired wave of her hand.
Hermione then turned to the large pile of papers on her desk Draco walked out of the room, his nose thrust high in the air. The nerve of her—dismissing him like that! Granger really ought to be more appreciative of his presence. And now he was stuck following Weasley. Bloody Gryffindors, he would be hounded by them the rest of his days.
Draco felt his hairs rise on his neck as Harry walked over to him. He had spoke too soon. Perhaps he should have taken divination—apparently he had a knack for it. Draco was all too aware of the lighting scar, an angry red mark against Potter's pale skin, and the darkness of this particular hallway.
"Well, if you're one of us, I suppose you should know there are rules," Harry said, moving closer.
"Potter, is this something that could be shared in a large, well lit room while you are standing 10 feet away from me?" Draco asked, as he scooted back, praying that there was a stairway at the end of the hallway. "You're certainly talking like we're standing 10 feet apart."
"I am the Boy who Lived. And Lives. And Lives Large, Malfoy," Harry continued, leaning in more, his eyes feverishly bright.
"You're a veritable Christmas tree, Potter. All we have to do is find a gold star to pin on your hair," Draco said, hoping that if he distracted Potter with a steady stream of his witticisms, he might stun Potter in his tracks.
"No one's complained yet, Malfoy. I promise it won't hurt. Much," Harry said, smiling, his arm suddenly around Draco's shoulder.
Draco jumped at Harry's touch and begin to squirm, swiveling his head madly and flailing his arms. It wasn't that Draco didn't like boys. He was open to that sort of thing. But this was Potter. And he had never seen Potter like this before. Potty Potter! Merlin save him!
"It's at times like this I wish I had taken Colin up on his offer," a girl's voice said.
"Oh, Ginny, it's you," Harry said, pulling away from Draco. "How do you manage to do that?"
"Yes, it's me. What did we say about asking first, Harry? You know it makes me cross when you don't ask," Ginny said, her finger waggling in Harry's face, pausing only to lower an eyelid at Draco.
Draco groaned and wondered if there would ever be an end to the humiliation. He only hoped Father would appreciate all that he had done in the name of Malfoy.
Ginny grabbed Draco's hand.
"Remember, we have schedules now, Harry. Seems I'm pairing up with Malfoy. I'd be terribly upset if something happened to my partner," Ginny said, pouting.
Did she just flutter her eyelashes at Potter? Harry sighed.
"Fine, Ginny. You always spoil my fun," Harry whined.
He fluttered his eyelashes at Draco.
"Good-bye, Malfoy. Let's talk again soon."
Draco wished there was a way to purge that entire exchange from his memory. He turned to Ginny, but before he could open his mouth, she slammed him against the wall, her eyes boring into his face.
"Don't even waste your words on me, Malfoy. Everyone seems to think you're worth the effort. I'm too tired to argue at this point. And we are partners," she said through clenched teeth.
Draco managed to keep his mouth shut. Weasley was surprisingly strong for her size. He could already feel the bruises forming on his arms.
"Well, I suppose I'm your mentor. I don't understand what I've done to deserve you, but I'm your mentor. Follow me to your room and then I'll take you to orientation," Ginny said as she pushed him away.
"Magic is power. We all understand that, being wizards and witches. However, I don't want you to get blinded by that power. We have to stop depending on just that power. That is what makes us vulnerable—the source of our power. It's rather ironic, if you think about it. So we turn to other disciplines—ones our enemies are less intimate with," Hermione said in crisp tones.
Hermione Granger was giving the opening lecture to the new recruits of the Order of the Phoenix. She was also doing a shockingly good impression of McGonagall. She stood in front of what appeared to be a training room. There were mats on the floor and mats on the walls. The members of the Order hung around the back. They appeared to be hiding grins behind their hands. He stood in line with the new recruits. They were dressed in Muggle clothing, shuffling their feet nervously as Hermione spoke. Draco could feel his eyes glazing over. This is what happened when you let a damn Mudblood sit in front of a room full of Wizards and Witches. You got lectures about tolerance, blah blah blah.
"Malfoy, come up here," Hermione said.
The recruits giggled nervously. Draco frowned and strode up to the front of the room.
"Now, I want you to charge at me. Attack me," Hermione continued once Draco stood next to her, motioning towards herself with her hands.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"Are you joking, Granger?" Draco asked.
"No, I want to prove a point. Come at me as if you were going to attack me. Hurry, we haven't got all day," Hermione said.
Draco grinned and went charging at Hermione, his wand pointed straight at her. Hermione stared at him, never wavering from his charging body. In a fluid motion, she threw Draco to the floor with apparently no more effort than she would have exerted brushing her hair. Draco landed with a thud and made some odd gurgling noises.
"I told you, Muggle arts and sciences are like magic, in their own way," Hermione said, walking up and down the mats. "You are going to learn how to apply them to your benefit. I want none of your complaining. This could save your life."
Draco wheezed, still lying on his back. "A fat lot of good Muggle disciplines will do me when someone is shouting Avada Kedavra at me, Granger."
"A fat lot of good Avada Kedavra will do someone if you crush their windpipe," Hermione said.
"We can do nonverbal spells, you know," Draco said, wishing to be contrary to the very end.
"Yes, because one does a very good job of casting nonverbal spells when one is dead. You can't live if you can't breathe, Malfoy," Hermione said.
There wasn't even a trace of the know-it-all Draco had gone to school with. She simply spoke the truth. Evidently, it had worked or else the Order would not be here. And yet, he had doubt.
"Can you really kill them that quickly?" Draco asked.
"Well, if you're good. The pugilistic arts seem somewhat lost on Wizards. You've gotten flabby, comfortable. Learn fast. I will not be an easy taskmistress. Our lives are at stake," Hermione said while baring her teeth in what she believed to be a wolfish grin.
Normally, Draco would not have been impressed with such a sight, but after she had tossed him, her canines seemed to have gained an edge. Draco shuddered.
"Very well then. Where do we begin?" Draco asked. A Malfoy would not do things half-arsed.
"You're going to be learning something we call physics…"Hermione began, her spine ramrod straight.
Draco sighed. How the mighty had fallen. He turned his attention to Hermione, taking mental notes of all she said.
Ginny stood in the back of the room, her eyes slits as she watched Draco attend to Hermione's lesson.
Draco didn't understand the need for a mentor. 12 Grimmauld Place wasn't Hogwarts—the halls didn't twist and turn, stairways didn't disappear. Each part of the house was delegated to specific aspects of life—sleeping, eating, learning, meeting. He wasn't thick. A little evil and selfish, yes. Thick, no. But they insisted that he have a mentor. Mentor could also be code for watchguard. In that case, Draco had to applaud their forethought. Perhaps the do-gooders finally found a clue. But every new member, not just Draco, had a mentor. Draco, however, found his mentor was special. She followed him almost everywhere. Most mentors maybe shared a meal with their mentees. Weasley led credence to the watchguard theory.
One day, he turned around and she bumped into him. Draco let out an exasperated sigh.
"Weasley, must you follow me everywhere?" Draco asked.
Ginny scowled. Draco was tempted to tell her that if she kept scowling, her face would be stuck that way.
"I haven't followed you everywhere. Did you see me enter the loo?" she quipped back, not backing away from him.
He really wished she would step away. She was far too close for comfort.
"Fair enough, not the loo," Draco conceded.
"See? That's not everywhere," she said.
Draco rolled his eyes. He hated talking with Gryffindors. Their minds functioned on an atavistic level that was just plain embarrassing. Weasley insisted upon blocking his path, her arms crossed, glaring.
"If you want, I can tell Harry that you're on your own," Ginny continued, smiling slightly.
Draco shuddered and repressed the urge to creep back into bed and pull the covers over his head. This feeling evidently leaked onto his features because Weasley smirked, SMIRKED at him.
"Think of it as a partnership of convenience, Malfoy," she said, suddenly sounding weary.
Draco raised his eyebrow. There were dark smudges under her eyes. Perhaps if she didn't spend all her time stalking him, she'd have more time to sleep.
"You're getting something out of this? Well, besides the joy of my glorious presence. Ow, there was no need for the kicking of my shin, Weasley," Draco drawled.
"Yes," was all Weasley said.
Draco frowned and considered his options. He could saunter into Granger's office and demand free rein, but he knew that he was low in the Order's hierarchy. Stupid family honour. Draco had thought of getting father to put his portrait in the foyer of the manor, but now he was thinking of asking for a bronze statute out front. Yes, that was satisfactory compensation.
"The loo is out of bounds, we are clear about that?" Draco asked, leaning into Ginny's face.
"Crystal," she spat before walking off.
A month or so passed and Draco was busy, more or less. Not that he minded. Spare time meant an idle mind. Besides, Potter was still casting looks. He shuddered. So Draco took to relaxing in common areas in those rare moments. He was lounging in the living room when Ginny came charging in.
"I can't believe my first bloody mission is with bloody Malfoy," Ginny grumbled loudly.
Draco rolled his eyes. They were the only two in the living room anyway—she didn't need to remind the absent world of the obvious.
"So they've finally placed me?" Draco asked, not even bothering to look up from the Quibbler.
"Yes," she said.
Ginny threw a black bundle at Draco.
"Get dressed. We're heading out in a few hours," she said.
Weasley was already dressed in head to toe black. Granger had insisted that they wear black for night missions and green, grey and brown mottled outfits during the day. Draco personally thought it was stupid, this Muggle notion of disguise.
"Aren't you even going to tell me what we're doing?" Draco asked, eying the clothing as he unraveled the bundle.
"You know very well what we're doing, Malfoy," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.
"Ah yes, the old snare the unicorn with the maiden bit. See, I told you I'd be good for something," Draco said with a smirk as he began to pull of his robe.
Ginny snorted.
"The only reason they picked us is we're the only ones stupid enough to have volunteered," she retorted.
Draco shrugged.
"It's as good as any other reason, Weasley. Or perhaps you're too stupid to realize," he said, his voice muffled as he began to pull the top over his head.
Ginny blinked and turned bright red.
"Meet me at Hermione's office for the briefing," she said gruffly.
She slammed the door and stalked off.
On their first mission, Ginny and Draco were sent out to deal with one of the many clusters of Death Eaters that were still at large. They were a winning combination—decoy and bait. The two had protested the pairing, but it was volunteers only. No one was surprised.
They had dressed in tight, black tops and trousers—gloves on their hands and caps over their hair. Even they were not so far gone as to give the other side such rope. Draco did have to yank off her cap—that Weasley red could not be faked. Ginny winced as they took the strands, but kept her composure. The moment came and their training kicked in, the movements drilled into their bones. They were surprised at how easy it was.
So now they were the only two people standing in the field, dark shadows even in the fading twilight. They leaned back to back as if they were holding each other up. There were several bodies scattered on the ground around them, twisted limbs the only sign that something was amiss. The two exchanged a quick look before they began dragging the bodies. The usual blood and mud common in most battles was strangely absent.
Ginny wiped her forehead.
"Malfoy, it's the middle of the coldest winter we've had in years. How could there be mud?" she asked, her sweat-glistening face an odd contrast to her words.
"Weasley, you forget, we can't leave tracks. I was merely thanking Merlin," Draco said, grunting as he lifted a particularly heavy body.
"You should be thanking Hermione then. She's a genius—crushing their windpipes is much easier than breaking their wands," Ginny said, panting between words.
Draco sniffed and they continued to pile the bodies silently. While they worked, their breath came in short, ugly puffs. The snow began to fall in large, fat flakes, covering the corpses in a gentle blanket of white.
"It's like they're sleeping," Draco said, pulling his wand out of his sleeve.
Ginny shook her head and took out a small box.
"No magic, Malfoy. We can't be traced. You know that."
She poured out the powder onto the bodies. She then took out another box and struck a small wooden stick against the side of the box, setting the stick on fire. She touched the fire to the powder and it sparked.
Draco shook his head.
"Granger and her Muggle tricks. This is too easy, Weasley," he muttered.
They stared and watched the fire burn the corpses. They stood side by side, their arms not quite touching.
Ginny and Draco returned to 12 Grimmauld Place in one piece. The smell of burnt flesh clung to their clothes and they were clearly exhausted, but there was a strange peace in their eyes. Hermione heaved a sigh of relief. In her office, they debriefed.
"If I wasn't there, Malfoy would have mucked it up." Ginny pointed out, smugly.
"If I wasn't there, Weasley, they would have known it was a trap for sure," Draco pointed out, equally smug.
"If I wasn't there, Malfoy, they wouldn't have bothered, and you know it," Ginny said, nearly spitting in his face.
Hermione rubbed her temples. She really hoped they would just shag already. It was common enough amongst the Order—they all underwent enormous amounts of stress and this really was the best way to alleviate their tension. Ginny and Draco continued to shout at each other, their eyes bright and their bodies taut. Hermione frowned. Perhaps if she brought Harry in, it would make Draco see reason. It wasn't love, so what did it matter? It was merely release and then back to the grind.
Hermione waved them out of her office. They were oblivious, engrossed in each other.
Draco wasn't really sure how it happened. It just…happened. It still felt a bit unreal. One minute they had been arguing. The next minute, they were skin to skin in bed. Neither said a word until Ginny was fully dressed.
"Tell anyone and you're dead, Malfoy," she said, her look daggers.
"The feeling is mutual, Weasley," Draco said dryly.
When she left, Draco leaned back in his bed and closed his eyes, thinking of happier days with Pansy in the manor, his mother's voice echoing through the empty hallways. It had come to this—he was sleeping in Potter's house and Weasley was creeping out of his bed. If Draco were the crying sort, he'd be bailing buckets.
And so Draco passed his days with the Order like this. He would go on a mission, usually with Ginny. Ginny would slip into his bed and then leave before everyone else rose out of bed. Granger knew; Draco was sure of it. Ginny's room was next to Hermione's and Granger always noticed these things. Draco couldn't say if a week, a month or even a year passed.
But even this arrangement came to an end. The errant Death Eaters were stamped out and the Ministry of Magic had officially ended martial rule. Draco's work was done. He had a father to exonerate, a mother to find. Draco was sitting on his bed, packing his meagre belongings when someone knocked on his door.
"Good-bye, Malfoy," Ginny said, hanging outside his door, her eyes downcast.
"Weasley, you could try to drum up a little more enthusiasm. Our days are numbered," Draco drawled.
"I've been counting them with breathless anticipation," Ginny said.
"I know you're dying inside," he continued, his tone still droll.
Ginny smiled and walked over to Draco, leaning forward so her face was level with his.
"Only love can break your heart, Malfoy," she whispered, her breath warm on his face.
"I'll take some cracks?" Draco asked, waiting for her to crack indeed.
Ginny laughed and Draco joined her.
"Fine, maybe there is a hairline fissure," Ginny admitted, grudgingly.
There was an awkward pause. Ginny stared at Draco. Draco wanted to say something but found he couldn't speak. Ginny grabbed his hair and kissed him roughly, their teeth clacking harshly. She walked out and that was the last Draco saw of Ginny Weasley.