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Three days later…
Winter had finally hit Hogwarts… and harder than expected. The snow itself was a few days late according to the calendar, but it had made up for it with the extra cold wind and dangerous ice. Students were stuck inside during breaks and all Quidditch practices postponed until the weather lightened. But still, every student was looking forward to the Hogsmeade visit the coming weekend. Neither snow nor ice or cutting winds were going to keep the Hogwarts populace from leaving school grounds for the fist time in weeks.
In that time, Ron and Ginny had been allowed to go home to see their brother. The fact that Fred and George were continuing on with their jokester ways and they were spending Fred's prescribed bed rest dreaming up new products for their store told all who visited that Fred was on the mend. In fact, he'd been in such a creative mood that he couldn't help but elaborate, with George's help, on the story concocted to ease their younger siblings worries.
"It was all a series of accidents, really," Fred started, a captive audience sitting on his bed next to him.
"Oh, yes. Forge here was working on a new tripping chocolate. It would make the vict… er, consumer… trip over his own feet every third step…" George beamed. Fred looked suddenly uncomfortable.
"… seeing that Gred and I never aim to sell something we, ourselves, haven't tried out, I decided to take a taste. There was too much tripping agent and I happened to trip right into the old bookshelf we keep our finished potions on," he said.
"Fell right into the Weasley heirloom, he did…" George said. Ginny and Ron looked aghast at the statement. Molly Weasley was particular about how her borrowed treasures were treated. Bill hadn't been allowed home without a verbal lashing for nearly a month after he broke Grandmother Prewitt's bed.
"… Mum was quite angry about that as she didn't know we were using it in the shop…"
"… said that our family treasures were not meant to be blown up, broken, transformed or fell into…"
"… she'll skin my hide when I'm able to walk again…" Ginny and Ron started to look impatient at their brothers' tangent. George cleared his throat before continuing.
"Anyway, the potion I had been working on – an Opposite Potion – fell on Rutherford…" George said.
"… he's our pet mouse…" Fred interjected.
"So, our mouse turned into a cat, as the Opposite Potion is meant to do, and the cat goes off all startled…"
"The furry abomination knocked our completed Animation Potion onto one of our posed Cupid statues…"
"… a Valentine's project…"
"… and the arrow that was in its bow was animated and shot straight into me guts," Fred finished. Ron let out a snort at the story.
"With all those potions you two have come up with, you'd think that you would have received an 'O' in Potions," he said. Fred grinned.
"Yes, well, it was our best subject…"
"Until we blew up our station, the station in front of us, and Snape's desk in one shot…"
"He gave us a passing mark, banned us from the dungeons and vowed never to teach us again," Fred chuckled.
"Nor would we find jobs anywhere that required potion use," George said with a chuckle of his own. Ron got a thoughtful look on his face and Ginny slapped his arm.
"No. You and Harry will not do any such thing," she scolded. Ron rolled his eyes.
"Aw, Gin," he started. But Ginny put her hands on her hips.
"I'll tell Mum you're considering such a thing. And since Fred almost got himself killed…" she paused and leveled a glare at her older brother. "… you can expect a howler sometime in the next few days." The door to the bedroom opened and Molly Weasley entered balancing a tray of what looked to be tea and soup.
"Who is expecting a howler?" she asked. Ron looked slightly panicked.
"Fred, of course, Mum," he said. Molly let out a huff as she approached her injured child.
"He'll be getting punishment enough for getting himself skewered," she said with a grumble. Then her face turned pleasant. "How's my little Fred?" Fred shifted in the bed and put a hand over his side.
"Hurts a right bit," he said miserably. Ron and Ginny both rolled their eyes.
"He was complaining a bit earlier, too, Mum. He needs a good rest," George supplied. Molly nodded as she set the tray over Fred's lap.
"And he'll be getting it to, after he has a spot of tea and some dinner," she said. Then she turned to her two youngest. "Fred needs his rest, loves. You'd best be getting back to school. Your father is waiting to take you." Ron groaned.
"Aw, Mum. We're old enough to find our way back," he said. Molly glared at him.
"I'll see you safe back to Hogwarts and there's to be no argument about it," she said. Ron gulped as he nodded, took Ginny's arm to lead her from the room and left their mother to fussing over Fred.
So, Ron and Ginny were able to return to Hogwarts with relieved minds. It wasn't every day that an experiment with their brothers ended up disastrously wrong. It all had come down to a long, silly story that ended in disaster, which wasn't totally out of character for the twins.
As they relayed the story to both Harry and Hermione, the bushy-haired girl couldn't help the snort of disbelieving laughter.
"That seems a bit far-fetched, don't you think?" she asked, although she couldn't help but be curious about all of the potions the Weasley siblings had mentioned. Ginny let out a laugh.
"It's Fred and George… everything they do seems a bit far-fetched," she said. Harry laughed.
"That's very true," he agreed. Hermione shook her head.
"Fred probably stabbed himself with a fork and had to come up with such an outlandish tale just to make it seem more exciting," she said.
"Fred has never stabbed himself with a fork. He stabs other people with them," Ron grumbled as he rubbed a phantom pain on his leg. Hermione sat down next to him and lightly pat his hand. Any other conversation was cut off as both Hedwig and a school owl flew into the common room. The school owl dropped a note into Ginny's hand just as Harry tore into his message.
"Oy, who's that from, Gin?" Ron asked. Hermione pat his hand again.
"It's none of your business, Ronald," she said to him. Ginny grinned at the other girl.
"Thank you, Hermione," she said. Ron frowned.
"I'm just curious, is all. If it were from family, Errol would have brought it. You don't get many letters from anyone else," he grumbled. Ginny frowned.
"Why, thank you, Ron, for pointing out my lack of a social existence…" she growled "I don't see you being curious over what Harry received."
"I didn't mean it that way, Gin. You're friends are all here and… bloody hell… I'll just shut my gob," he said. Hermione smiled at him.
"That would probably be best," she told him. Ginny counted the other girl's assistance among the minor miracles of the world. Only Hermione could get her brother to back down as easily as he had. With a giddy feeling, she opened the small note.
Meet me by the lake – D
Ginny smiled. It had been three whole days since they'd been able to see each other. With classes, the weather, and Fred nearly getting himself killed in some stupid stunt, it had been hard to see each other in the hallways much less meet each other anywhere. But now, classes were done for the day, dinner had been eaten and it seemed Draco had time on his hands. It was just their luck that she did as well. Without a sound, she stood and made her way to the girl's dormitory stairway. As she started her way up, a hand grabbed her arm.
"And where are you rushing off to?" Hermione asked. Ginny frowned.
"None of your business," she answered, shamelessly using the bushy-haired girl's earlier words against her. Hermione let out a sigh as she dragged Ginny fully back into the common room. With a look over her shoulder she could see that Harry and Ron were deep into a discussion. Hermione turned her attention back to the ginger haired girl.
"You're going to see him, aren't you?" the busy-haired girl asked. Ginny was silent for a second to try and deny it, but that was all the confirmation Hermione needed.
"Do you really think he loves me?" Ginny asked finally. Hermione opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. She wanted to scold her friend for not ending this thing with Draco Malfoy, but she couldn't help but remember what she'd said before to the girl. The Slytherin seemed to care about her friend in ways that he never seemed to care about anything else.
"Why does it matter so much?" she asked. Ginny shifted on her feet uncomfortably.
"I think I may love him," she said. Hermione's eyes went wide. All of this had been fine when Ginny had been in denial. The more she had denied, the more Draco had denied. And the more both of them had denied almost assured that this farce would end before Ron could have a coronary. But her friend was no longer denying. And Ron was going to have a coronary. It was inevitable…
"You love him…" she repeated. Ginny nodded miserably.
"I don't know what to do. Of all the people for me to be in love with, I never would have remotely thought of Draco Malfoy," she said. Hermione nodded in agreement.
"Are you going to tell him?" she asked. Ginny thought about that for a second. Then she squared her shoulders.
"Yes," she answered. Hermione nodded once.
"Good luck, then," she said with a small smile. Ginny smiled back.
"Thanks…" she said before rushing up to her dorm to grab her winter cloak. If she was going to tell Draco Malfoy – Prince of Slytherin, King of All Pratish Behavior, and Master of Everything Emotionless – that she loved him, she was going to need all the luck she could get.
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He wrapped his cloak closer around him as he waited. His father had his answer, and now, it was time to put things straight again. He had a plan… but in order for that plan to work, he needed to do one thing… say one thing. With a sigh, he stared out at the lake. Draco didn't know what would happen when his plan was put into action, but he had to keep the people he cared about safe.
"Draco?" a soft voice asked, interrupting his internal musings. He turned his head to see Ginny approaching. He reached a pale, spidery hand out to take hers and pull her next to him to look out at the frozen lake. They stood like that for a moment as the cold winter wind swirled around them. It was about to get colder…
"I am taking the Mark," he said finally. Ginny paled at the words when it became clear what he had said. Suddenly, the darkness and gloom that she had felt around him made so much sense. A heavy silence fell between the two – Ginny struggling to find the words, and Draco not wanting to say any more.
"You are taking the Mark," she repeated, looking over at him. This was not the conversation she had been expecting. Not that she had been expecting much conversation with Draco to begin with after three full days of not seeing each other..
"Yes," he said, not looking at her. His face was calm and he gave her no indication that this was something he didn't want to do.
"Why?" she asked, internally willing him to look at her.
"I'm a Malfoy. It's expected of me," he said. Ginny shook her head, not understanding anything of this conversation.
"You're mistaken. Just because you're a Malfoy does not mean that you are meant to wear dark robes and a mask. I know you don't want to be a Death Eater. Why resign yourself to being one? Stand up for what's good in you," she said. Draco let out a dry laugh before he sobered again.
"I'm not noble, Ginevra," he growled. He still hadn't looked at her. "I'm certainly not brave. I'm a Slytherin. Our creed is pretty much ourselves before all others."
"Go away, then, Draco. Save yourself by leaving," she said, now clinging to his hand. "Then, when the time is right, come back. I'll come with you if you want me to." Draco shook his head and shook his hand free of hers.
"If I go anywhere, there will be no coming back until everything is settled." Ginny watched him as he paced and placed a hand on his arm when he finally stood still.
"But Draco… the war… certainly you…" she started. He glared at her, knowing exactly where that was headed.
"I can't be Potter!" he almost yelled, shocking Ginny to her toes. It was the last thing she expected him to say. After he had calmed, Draco turned and looked at her; he looked at the slim hand that lay on a sleeve of his robes.
"I don't want to be, in any case. But things will not be settled until I face my Father. Maybe even Voldemort himself. They will kill me if I don't take the Mark. In order for this to be finished, I will do what I have to do. I will not run," he said. His eyes held a sliver of surprised before they cooled over once more. He hadn't meant to tell her that much.
"I…" she started, but he cut her off.
"I can't change for you Ginny. I can't be something that I'm not capable of being. You want me to deny what I've been bred for. You want me to fight in this war; to be as brave and self-sacrificing as Harry bloody Potter. This war means nothing to me and if I have to sacrifice something to stay alive, I will do so. I told you, it is the Slytherin way. If you can't handle that, it's too bloody bad. Walk away now, before you get hurt. I don't want to hurt you," he said, the cold winter wind making a beautiful mess of his usually perfect hair. He had just given her a choice, one he hadn't meant to give. But he wouldn't take it back. Ginny's gaze stayed locked on his cool, blue-gray eyes.
"I just don't want you to become something you're not," she said. "I never wanted you to change." There was a small twitch in Draco's cheek. Whether it was the beginning of a smile or a disbelieving sneer, Ginny would never know.
"You want me to say that I love you," he said, his face carrying his usual ice-cold expression. Ginny's hand slipped off the cold, rough material and she turned away from him, into the wind.
"I've had enough false 'I love yous' to know that I don't want another one. So no, Draco, I don't want you to say you love me. Not when you don't think you can," she said. Gray eyes looked to the frozen ground. He'd never imagined he could ever get to this point.
I want to… "I can't," he said, looking up. The wind bit hard at Ginny's winter-reddened cheeks. She let herself believe that it was the severe chill that caused her eyes to water. He was watching her, she could feel his stare. But she didn't turn. If she did, Ginny knew she'd run into his arms and it simply wouldn't do for her to plead. So instead, she nodded once and covertly wiped the one tear that had escaped from her face. She would not let him see her pain, not when he wouldn't let her know his.
"I never once wanted you to be Harry," she said finally, shocking him to the core. "I just wanted you." Still, she didn't turn. After a moment, Ginny started walking towards the school. Her legs felt heavy – a protest of their own accord. Walking away was the hardest thing she'd ever done. She could have said she'd be with him, no matter what. She could have said the Dark Mark wouldn't matter. But her heart would never be able to survive if she had to watch him destroy himself. It was what would happen in the end, no matter what. She could love him, but she couldn't love the black skull and snake branded onto him when the time came. Ginny Weasley did not want a hero, not anymore… she wanted a man. And the second the Dark Mark touched… stained… marred Draco Malfoy's beautifully pale skin, he would cease to be a man. He would be a slave to whatever darkness he had decided to answer.
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Oblivious to the winds raging outdoors, Ron and Hermione sat in the library in a somewhat uncomfortable silence. Harry had left them to themselves a little while ago in order to serve a typically unwarranted detention with Professor Snape. She sat up straight and diligently attended her Arithmancy homework as she occasionally glanced at Ron, who was slouched in his chair and doodling on his parchment.
"This is so pointless. When am I going to use Arithmancy in the real world? Honestly. I don't see myself in a life or death Auror situation or flying around the Quidditch Pitch in the World Cup wondering if I remembered to carry the three," he grumbled, throwing his quill down on the bemoaned subject's textbook. Hermione let out a sigh. It was their seventh and last year at Hogwarts, yet Ron Weasley continued to make light about his studies. It was the last straw.
"You're smart, Ron. You just won't let yourself be. It's important that you do well in your N.E.W.T.S this year. Especially to get into Auror training. I don't see why you continually have to make jokes about your education and your future. I don't see why you have to make things so hard," she said, slamming her books shut and pushing her chair back. Something in him told Ron that Hermione was talking about more than just school. Just as she made her way around the table, Ron had stood as well. When she was about to sweep by him, he took hold of her arm.
"Hermione…" he started. Her troubled eyes looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. But instead, on an unusually confident whim, he ducked his head down and kissed her.
Hermione's eyes went wide at the contact. Of all the things for him to say and do, this was the least expected. Her books fell to the ground, unbidden, as she settled into the kiss and wrapped her arms around his neck. Hermione closed her eyes as she realized that the boy she'd loved ever since she'd haughtily told him he had dirt on his nose was finally kissing her.
"What are you two doing?" Madame Pince's voice startled them out of the kiss. She glared at the pile of books sitting on the floor. Ron and Hermione stepped away from each other and shared a look. The dropped books must have alerted the stuffy librarian.
"We're just leaving, actually," Hermione said in a steadier voice than she felt she had. Madame Pince gave her a dark look.
"Then be on your way," she said, glaring once more at Ron. Hermione nodded and knelt down to collect the books. Ron helped her before gathering his things together.
As the two walked out of the library, Ron nudged Hermione.
"The woman hasn't been properly snogged since the Stone Ages, if at all. It's the only excuse for her having to ask us what we were up to," he leaned close to her ear to whisper. She let out a giddy, un-Hermione-like giggle as the doors closed behind them
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The morning came, but to Ginny, it was just as dark, cold and depressing as the night had been. Winter had settled over Hogwarts heavily and there was no relief in sight. At least as far as Professor Sybil Trelawney was concerned. According to her, winter was never to end and each of the bored-to-tears 6th year Divination class was to die horribly within the year. Poor Colin was the subject of Trelawney's 'predictions' in the current conversation. Ginny had pretty much muted out the woman's rambling as soon as she'd started to speak. Not that she hadn't muted out everyone and everything the moment she'd stepped foot back in the castle late last night. He'd said that he didn't want to hurt her, and he hadn't. He'd made no promises to her and Ginny hadn't expected him to. In fact she had been the one to walk away. He'd left it up to her. But she still couldn't help feeling numb.
With a look up, Ginny found the entire class's faces turned in her direction. "I… uh… I'm going to… um… be dreadfully ill next month. My toad… um… will get eaten by my mum's owl and…" might as well add some truth "… my heart will be broken to pieces over the boy I love…" Letting out a mournful sigh, Ginny sat back in her chair. The wily-haired, bespectacled professor looked absolutely delighted.
"How wonderful!" she said gaily, causing the entire class to roll their eyes. Then Trelawney approached Ginny and pat her hand twice. "Terribly sorry about your toad, dear…" Then, she turned to another 6th year and cornered the poor boy into another disastrous prediction. Ginny sighed again… she didn't even own a toad. But as long as it met a grisly end, she would pass this horrible venture into Divination. She could see why Hermione scoffed at the class. The class bell rung suddenly, surprising Ginny.
It was a slow walk to the Great Hall where she knew all of her mates were enjoying the awaiting feast. The house elves rarely disappointed.
"Hey, Gin!" a voice called to her. She spun, not knowing whom to expect. A genuine smile crossed her freckled features for the first time that day. No one could mistake the tall, carrot-topped boy bounding in her direction as anyone other than Ron Weasley.
"Hello big brother," she said as she shifted her books in her arms. "Why aren't you already at lunch?" Ginny could swear a small blush tinged his cheeks and the tips of his ears – the curse of all redheads… he was getting better at controlling it after years of it controlling him. There was only one person in all Hogwarts… in all the world… that merited such a color on her darling brother. Hermione Granger. A grin broke out over the youngest Weasley's face.
"Never mind, Ron… Only one thing could possibly make you miss a meal. I take it you've snogged the prim, proper and bookish Ms. Granger senseless?" she asked. Ron warred between horror that his sister even knew what 'snogging' was and amusement. Amusement won for the moment.
"No, you nosy little bint… but she has agreed to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend…" he said. Ginny frowned.
"You always go to Hogsmeade toget…" Ginny broke off when his words finally made sense. After the last Hogsmeade debacle, she had to be careful what she assumed. "OH! You're going without Harry…" Ron winced slightly before putting his arm around her shoulder.
"That's something I wanted to discuss with you," he started. Ginny's eyes went wide.
"No, Ron. Absolutely not," she said harshly, knowing exactly what her brother was thinking. "I am not going to tell Harry – your best friend – that you two are ditching him at the last minute. This is the first Hogsmeade visit allowed in months…" Ron held up a hand to stop her tirade. She was too much like their mother… but he'd never say that to her…
"I just want you to go with him. So he won't… you know… think that we've ditched him," he said. "You know… go ask him for… well…" Ron stumbled over his words, trying not to think of the words Harry, Ginny and date in the same stratosphere. His baby sister didn't go on dates… even if it was with Harry Potter. The whole Michael Corner and Dean Thomas incident from her 4th year not withstanding – he was still in denial.
"Spit it out, Ron…" Ginny said, annoyed at her brother's habit of lapsing into stuttering.
"Yes, do tell, Weasel… your inability to put together a sentence is hampering our inevitable enjoyment of your predicament," a cool, dignified voice interjected. The two Weasleys spun around to see Draco standing with Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini and Gregory Goyle. Pansy was the only one snickering as the other two looked curiously at Draco. The stoic blond at the head of the group only arched an eyebrow.
"Sod off, Malfoy. This is a private conversation and certainly none of your concern," Ron said, an angry flush coming over his cheeks as he stepped in front of his sister, blocking her view of the confrontation.
"It most certainly isn't my concern what you and your filthy mudblood get up to, but I am certainly interested in seeing how Scarhead takes his puppy being forced up him so that his little friends can go off without him. Dare I say the Golden Trio will be no more?" he asked with a look of glee – or as near to as a Malfoy would show. Ron pursed his lips and stepped forward, but Ginny held him back. So this was how it was to be, then. Back to the routine.
"Let me at him Ginny. Let me give him a wollop," he gritted out. Ginny's eyes willed Draco's to her, but the blond kept his glare and his sneer directed at Ron.
"I'd like to see you try, Weasel. But I think you'd be more productive if you just slug hexed yourself again. It would save you, and me, the trouble…" Ron's eyes narrowed before turning slightly to Ginny.
"Fancy giving this git another taste of your Bat Bogey Hex, Gin?" he asked. To Ginny, that unfortunate encounter in Umbridge's office seemed like ages ago. Another lifetime, even. It took that question to finally pull Draco's attention to the female Weasley. A fine eyebrow, shades darker than the silver-blond hair, arched.
"Ah yes, a Weaslette and her fancies. Intriguing subject, to be sure," he said with a smirk. He then waved a hand over himself in an inviting manner. "Give it a go?" The tone in his voice was mockingly insinuating more than just a simple hex. It was more than Ginny would have liked… and according to the interesting shade of purple Ron's face was producing, he didn't care for the question either. He stepped forward menacingly.
"Do not even suggest such rubbish to my sister again," the elder Weasley growled. "You're not fit to touch a hair on her head." Draco's eyes took on an amused glint. Oh, to hint at so much more was such a temptation for him, she knew it.
"Is that so?" he asked dangerously, causing Ginny's heart to race. Would he shove their 'dealings' into Ron's face? Would he betray her like that? Instead, he let out an un-Malfoy-like snort. "Well, if The Weasel King says it's so, then he must be right," he said mockingly. Parkinson, Zabini, and Goyle all laughed.
"I've wasted enough time on you muggle-loving filth," Draco said finally before giving Ginny one last look and turning on his heel, slinking into the Great Hall with his Slytherin robes billowing menacingly behind him as usual. Ron and Ginny watched the door close behind Draco's cronies with two completely different expressions. Ron's was full of immense dislike and his sister's was of painful love.
"And to think we'd thought him better this year… What an arse," Ron muttered before catching Ginny's arm. "So, will you ask Harry?" Ginny looked down at Ron's hand and then up to the Great Hall door. It wasn't a question anymore of 'what could she do?'. One option had been thoroughly stomped to the ground in pieces, unrecognizable. The only other was the one that would cause the least amount of pain for everyone. With a sigh, she made her choice and nodded to her brother.
'Why, man, he doth stride the narrow world
Like a Colossus, and we petty men
Walk under his huge legs and peep about
To find ourselves dishonorable graves.
Men at some time are masters of their fates;
The fault is not in our stars
But in ourselves, that we are underlings.'
- William Shakespeare, "Julius Caesar"
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