Chapter 4: The War, the Mirror—the War in the Mirror
Madame Malkin's was the same as ever, with lots of clothes for all people, styles, and prices. Malfoy pulled out a long list and quickly scanned the whole thing. Then, while I stood at the door looking like an idiot, he spoke in low tones with Madam Malkin herself. Boy did I feel stupid.
"All right," He said, and we left for the hair salon.
He dragged me over to a huge building with a blow drier and a pair of scissors on the sign. That's when I closed my eyes.
"Not afraid of a little haircut, are you?" Malfoy said, his intonation rising in a taunt.
For a moment nothing happened, except his stupid smirk probably got bigger, at least until I beat him over the head without opening my eyes. "I simply have no desire to see just what sort of monstrous things you have in mind here."
"It's just a hairdresser."
I cracked open an eye to find the door. "With you, it's never just anything."
After that, I opened my eyes for walking, lunch, and nothing else. Gentle fingers, the rustle of foil, or even the snip of scissors, none of it could coax me to open my eyes. Malfoy didn't even try, as if he knew it would only harden my resolve.
The beautician wasn't nearly as astute. "Dear girl, you simply must open your eyes! How else will you pick the colors you like?"
A muffled giggle came from the direction I'd last heard Malfoy. "Look, I really don't want to see what you do to my face, I know how to apply make-up, and Malfoy here can pick out the appropriate colors," I told the snotty woman. "All I want to do is sit in this chair by myself."
"Well, I never—"
"Will you give us a moment please?" Malfoy asked coolly, inciting my rage. She must've left because his voice whispered in my ear. "You are simply astonishing, Miss Weasley. The tone, the gesture, and the attitude were perfectly royal, but your body, your appearance is something deserving of personal attention, rule number one hundred and twenty four."
"Yes sir," I mumbled, feeling like a surly child, and started to open my eyes.
But he covered them with his hand and said in a soft, almost loving tone, "I'd hate to ruin the surprise now, after so long. It can wait a little longer."
Was he actually being nice?
The snippy woman returned, and with her the afternoon passed in a flurry of brushes and powder. Malfoy stood close by, selecting shades and styles. Though the situation was uncomfortable, it wasn't unfamiliar. Large portions of my adolescence had been spent covered in make-up. And with Malfoy watching over I felt surer of myself, more like the me from Hogwarts.
When we returned to the carriage to go home, Malfoy broke the silence. "I thought you did well today. After what I'd been told, I expected you to pitch childish tantrums or glare death threats at every new idea."
I didn't say anything, too surprised at the flurry of emotions inside me. At his words, I expected to feel angry, but that was small and fleeting. A tingle of happiness rushed through my veins followed quickly by a lingering touch of confusion. I was happy that I'd done well, but confused at why I wanted his approval. Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that Malfoy helped to alleviate some of my discomfort. He got me to think about other things like anger or pride or role models instead of my fears.
"I'm sorry, that wasn't exactly tactful," He murmured.
"But true." I sighed. "You remind me of someone, someone very important to me." It was something He would have done, teased and cajoled me into a better mood. It felt familiar.
"Don't you get tired of being so righteous all the time? Even Ron gets tired of it. Or are you determined to be the virgin sacrifice?"
"Ah, the mysterious 'Him.'" Malfoy actually made the quotes with his fingers. "I wondered when you'd bring him up.'
"How did you find out about Him?" Only Harry knew!
"Please, Potter and I do talk civilly on occasion. Not terribly often, and as I recall that conversation ended in a rather physical disagreement, but it has happened." He looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling, as if trying to remember something important about that particular conversation, but then shook his head.
The carriage stopped just as he ceased pondering whatever mystery remained lock-up inside of him. "I didn't know you and Harry ever spoke to one another."
He stood up and opened the door. "Doesn't surprise me; after all, I don't go around telling people ever time Potter and I speak. Oh yes, tomorrow you report to work again. Sleep well, Miss Weasley." And he left, walking quickly into the house.
I watched, mindful of his rapid steps and his determination to get into the house—away from me. This revelation should have upset me, but I found it just a little bit cheering. I wasn't the only one running away from something.
Somehow, I managed to find my room, although in reality it wasn't that hard to locate. With the information overload, I feared I wouldn't remember something so simple. The house elves had brought in all the purchases, except the ones from Reggie (his wouldn't be ready until Thursday or Friday next week). Boxes and bags lined the walls with mathematical precision, completely opposite of Mum, who tossed everything on the floor before collapsing on the couch.
"Oh, Lilla wasn't expecting Miss so soon. Lilla thought Miss would dine with Master." She wrung her hands, and I briefly wondered if she had a nervous disorder.
"Calm down Lilla, it's not a big deal." She looked really funny the more panicked she became; I probably shouldn't have laughed. Oh well. "Could you just bring me a tray for dinner? I don't feel like leaving the room."
"Lilla should have thought of that! Lilla should have realized Miss would be too tired to dine with Master. Lilla will get clothes!" She finally burst into tears, which caused me to absolutely lose it.
I clutched at my sides slowly slipping down the wall as I lost control over my legs. Tears welled in my eyes, falling in fat drops, and I laughed. The sound rolled out so easily, so naturally, and lasted for a long time.
"Is Miss dying?" Lilla asked, peering into my face.
"No, Lilla." I gasped for air and control. "No, but you have got to be the funniest little house elf ever."
"Why is Miss saying that?"
"Because I can't remember the last time I laughed, and it feels really good." I smiled down at her embarrassed face. "Really, it's a good thing. Trust me; you won't get clothes."
Lilla grinned sheepishly back. "Perhaps I is being more funny from now on."
"Sounds good." She was definitely an odd little creature, maybe that's why I felt as though I could relate to her. "Now, can you show me the bathroom?"
"Certainly, Miss." Lilla pointed to a door close to the sleeping alcove. "Through there."
It was a big bathroom with a huge bath and a mirror for a wall. For a moment I closed my eyes, afraid to look, but I couldn't hide forever. A familiar stranger stared back at me. Her pale skin accented by a light blush, dark eye make-up made the eyes bigger but more mysterious, and her hair—it had been long, very long reddish-blond locks. Now, the light highlights were gone replaced with black that really darkened the color. I guess my hair was still kind of long; it fell a little past my shoulders in an interesting wave. The bangs fell every which way, but most especially into my eyes. It definitely looked mysterious.
This new woman looked like a goddess, but not like me. There was that elusive bit of familiarity lurking in the mirror. Was it the mischievousness in those brown eyes? Or perhaps it was in the saucy way the hips curved? Or maybe it was that air of confidence that surrounded her…me.
I looked at the luxurious tub, my original purpose for entering. A bath would have soothed away the physical pains of the day, the aching in my feet and lower back. But that would mean spending more time with the woman in the mirror. How could she be me? How could someone that—that—put together, that in control be me? I could never be that self-assured. But wasn't that what Malfoy wanted? Wasn't that his whole purpose of taking me shopping? Did he think I could do it?
'That's enough of that.' I thought and left the bathroom quickly, hoping to leave the stranger behind too.
I fell on the bed, absolutely exhausted from the day. But then, who wouldn't be with all that change? For once, I actually slept through the night without waking up at all or having any strange dreams. And the morning turned out to be actually sort of pleasant.
I woke early, determined to get to work before anyone else so that they wouldn't see me or say anything stupid. Lilla had left an outfit on one of the chairs, a long-sleeved black shirt, my long denim skirt, and a pair of black heels. She'd left a note from Malfoy on top of the ensemble as well.
Miss Weasley, I hope this outfit meets with your approval. I asked Lilla to put out something you wouldn't abhor. Good Luck Today, D Malfoy
P.S. Don't forget the make-up.
What a kind gesture. I was stunned enough to put the make-up on like he asked. Nothing fancy, just some brown eye shadow and lip gloss. Lips gloss was actually kind of nice, definitely something I could get used to wearing. I also pulled my hair back with some clips. For once I looked presentable.
Not many people were at the ministry when I arrived, just a few Aurors and the desk clerk, no one I knew. Perfect. The pile on my desk wasn't near as large as it should have been. Had Mary Ellen done something nice for once? When I glanced through the pile I noticed the different forms: Voldemort sightings, melting cauldrons, an incident of socks that ate the wearer's feet, all things that required multiple forms and obscure filing.
Mary Ellen probably just felt too lazy yesterday—or some cute guy came in, and she spent too much time flirting. Stupid chit. At twenty-six that girl should know that work is more important then her sex life. I certainly did, and I'd just turned twenty-one.
Despite the aggravating work, the morning passed quickly and quietly as I filled out the forms and filed them. Lilla packed me a lunch (smart little elf), so I worked straight through the traditional lunch hour. It was nice to feel productive in the office. Maybe it had something to do with the full night of sleep or actually looking presentable for once, but the day felt good.
Mary Ellen giggled obnoxiously outside my door. "Don't you worry; I'll make sure she gets this right away." I flinched at her high voice and tried to ignore the noise by focusing everything on the form in front of me.
Until His voice came through the door, low and sensual, shattering my concentration. "You do that, and maybe I'll drop by again."
What was He doing at the Ministry? Was He looking for me? My imagination was running away from me. Obviously He had business that brought him, probably needed a meeting with the minister. Yea, that was it, a meeting with the minister.
"Gin, you doing alright?" Mary Ellen asked, concerned by my absurd look of shock. "You look a little pale, did something happen?" I couldn't answer; shock had frozen my tongue. Him. Here. At the Ministry! "Here." She stuffed an envelope in my hand and left. "Crazy girl, can't even answer a question."
Miss Weasley was scrawled across the envelope in His tidy hand. Carefully I opened it and read the letter.
Luv, check the restricted files, section between Bottomless Butter Beer and Crazed Candied Canines. The file is unlabeled.
Before I could even make a decision to go, me feet had moved down the hall, my lips had whispered the password, and my hands had turned the door knob. Technically, I was supposed to get clearance from the Minister to enter the Restricted Files. But after the third time, Spencer told me if I ever asked about "that damn room" again, he would shoot the wizard who'd come up with that stupid rule. I didn't have the heart to tell him it was Fudge. Since then, though, I'd never asked permission.
I found the file with no trouble at all. It was a little frightening to think that this crucial piece of paper had been so carelessly filed. Or did someone want to make it nearly impossible to find? Slowly I opened the folder and stared at the paper inside. The bold faced type was as dull as the words were amazing.
The following is the true account of Miss Ginevra Weasley's involvement in the betrayal of the Order of the Phoenix.
On the night of Thursday the third of June, Miss Weasley was charged with the initiation of a new member into the Order of the Phoenix. She left the headquarters promptly at 9:15 for the rendezvous point, but she never arrived. Somewhere between High Street and Butterfly Boulevard, she was attack and abducted by Deatheaters. Sources differ—
The folder landed with a gentle pfft on the dusty floor.
It was dark, more so then usual for early June, but I wasn't afraid. Dumbledore wouldn't send me on a dangerous mission—no one, not even he, would willingly face Mum after disobeying a direct command. (Except maybe for the twins, but even they had trembled before her fierce wrath.)
Footsteps echoed off the buildings around me, but I paid them no attention. Things were always echoing in muggle London. And besides, if someone was following me, it was probably those teenagers I saw a couple of blocks ago getting high on a street corner. After all, this wasn't a dangerous mission, just an initiation.
Eventually the footsteps trailed off leaving me alone on the street. I breathed a little sigh of relief. It was my first job, and I wanted to excel. And muggles finding out about the war, breaking the secrecy laws, anything like that would certainly ruin my goal.
'Everything is going great!' I thought as I fingered the slip of paper in my pocket. 'Mum let me go, Dumbledore trusted me with something important, even Harry was excited when he found out I had a job. Everything is working out just the way I planned it!'
Then they hit me over the head. As my vision clouded over all I could think was, 'Dumbledore, Mum is going to kill you.'
"What were you thinking, Malfoy? That was the worst thing you could have done! She might never wake up! Or don't you remember what the St. Mungo's people said?"
"Oh, please," Malfoy said casually. "She'll wake up when she's ready. Those Healers always give worst case scenarios. Besides she looks fine, so keep your pants on Potter, and stop treating her like an invalid."
"You—you—you—"
"Threw water on her?" He suggested mildly.
Smack!
"Was that a challenge, Potter?" Malfoy laughed mockingly. "You know the Minister has forbidden us to duel."
"You arrogant self-centered prick! How can you just stand there and make jokes at a time like this? She might never wake up and then what? Are you going to explain it to her parents? It will be entirely your fault and all because you're a Selfish Bastard!"
I peeked open an eye just in time to see Malfoy grab Harry by the robes and hoist him about three inches off the floor. Harry had his hands around Malfoy's neck, and they were both turning purple. If I hadn't been so afraid one of them might kill the other, it might have been all very funny. They both looked so wild and murderous, Harry's eyes narrowed to tiny slits and Malfoy snarling with viciousness any predator would envy.
Malfoy threw Harry up against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him. Harry let go of his neck. "Don't insult me, Potter! Ginny will wake up. Just because—"
"Enough boys!" Spencer shouted. "The fighting has got to stop, for Ginny's sake. Malfoy, what you did was stupid. Harry, what's done is done. Now, there will be no more foolish attempts to wake her. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir," they both grumbled, and I quickly feigned unconsciousness. There would be time later to think over the strangeness of their conversation.
"Good." It suddenly reminded me of a conversation between Mum and the twins. "Who's going to watch over her until she wakes?"
Several muted grunts filled the air before Malfoy finally said, "I'll leave" in a very angry and childish tone. The door opened and shut with a loud bang.
"Don't antagonize him, Harry. It's not fair to Ginny," Spencer said quietly before leaving as well.
Harry paced the room anxiously, his footsteps echoing like the ones from my memory. I thought about opening my eyes to relief some of the tension, but then he started talking.
"I'm sorry, Ginny. This is all my fault. If I'd only protected you better, watched over you more, none of this would have happened."
What was he talking about? He couldn't protect me from everything, especially not if I didn't wanted it. I used to be a very ornery girl; he should've known I wouldn't accept his protection even if he'd offered it. Which, I think he did. Even Mum couldn't keep an eye on me all the time, and she had the best chance. My life was my own series of mistakes, and no one else could take the blame.
"This is all my fault. If only I had paid more attention, spent more time with you, if only I'd bothered to care! Then none of this would have happened, and you'd be happy."
What? How could he know that? No one knows for sure what the future holds. All those hours with Trelawney should have at least taught him that! At Hogwarts, I was content to be with my friends, the boyfriend of the moment, and those I'd deemed worthy. I enjoyed my classes and spent a lot of time chatting with teachers. I was happy. And nothing he did, in my memory, had caused me any pain or joy. Other people just didn't have that effect on me.
"We never should have let you join the Order."
That was going too far. Time to end his little pity party; I groaned and fluttered open my eyes. "Harry? What happened?" I asked, pretending to be clueless.
He threw his arms around me in a crushing embrace. "Oh Ginny!"
He fell for it, just like every other time.
Nobody questioned my desire to go home, and Harry only protested a little when he realized it was Malfoy Manor I meant. Spencer never asked what happened or why I was in the restricted files to begin with. I think he probably knew. And Malfoy didn't give me that look that demanded I explain myself, like I had expected. In fact, he didn't look at me at all.
"Here," he said and shoved a pile of papers in my hands before grabbing my elbow gruffly and apparating the two of us home. It was an odd sensation, like I'd done something so horrible no one could speak of it, the unfortunate story of my recent life. The whole situation was only made worse by the fact that I didn't know if remembering was bad or not. Certainly the memory wasn't a good one, but did that explain why I felt guilty? The silent treatment always bothered me the most out of all the punishments I'd gotten. Couldn't someone just yell at me, instead of treating me to that damned silence?
Once in the foyer he dropped my arm and hurried off to another part of the house, as if it was too horrible to touch, as if I was contaminated. For a moment, I stood there unsure of what to do. How could they leave me so alone? But then I carefully climbed the stairs. Hiding in the comfort of my room sounded like an excellent idea as no one apparently wanted to see me.
I suddenly felt five again, and I'd just called Ron a mudblood at dinner, right in front of everyone. No one explained it to me, Mum just sent me to my room, and no one spoke to me for the rest of the evening and well into the next day. Coincidently, I didn't find out what the word meant until I overheard Hermione discussing it.
The papers in my hands were reports marked 'Priority', but I couldn't sit down and finish them. The events of the day needed to be sorted through before I could do any thing. And besides, my eyes buzzed and my head stung. Or maybe it was the other way around?
Would no one explain what I'd done?
Dumbledore sent me on a mission, and along the way I was kidnapped by Deatheaters. Okay, so far they couldn't really fault me. It wasn't like I asked to be kidnapped. Did the Deatheaters torture me? Did I cave and reveal classified information? They didn't turn me into a Deatheater; I didn't have the mark. Did I see Voldemort? Did I want to know?
When I looked up in a mirror, a stranger stared back. She challenged me to find the truth with her endless dark eyes. A desire to be treated like everyone else lingered in the creases on her forehead. And yet, I wanted to forget everything, to go back to my simpler existence.
The mirror could try its tricks on someone else, someone more vulnerable. I knew what I wanted!
Okay, so now I'm a little upset with Fanfiction...I had all these cool fonts and everything for people's handwritting and stuff...but I couldn't get them up into the story! So you have to deal with the less cool version...and I'm upset about it...sniff sniff...