Summary: "You're not a killer." Draco's internal struggle to discover himself and where his loyalties lie which may turn the tables around in the war. D/G
Disclaimer: I don't own H.P. Only this plot, bitches.
A/N: I know this chapter is rather short. And I know I haven't updated in about a year. I'm very sorry to all my reviewers; I was busy with school and my social life. I also tend to start things I never finish but finishing this story is very promising because I already have an idea about how it will end. Hopefully, a few of you have remained faithful to this story. Thank you so much.
Chapter Two
Denials and Truth
"Excellent, Draco."
Ginny's raspy breaths cut through the silent, tense air. Her heart leapt in her chest, threatening to jump out of her mouth. She stared up at the night sky, the stars staring down at her, unconcerned at the state she was in, frozen and lying on her back. She stared up at Malfoy's masked face, hatred radiating from her brown eyes.
"Finite Incantatem," Malfoy muttered, pointing his wand down at her. She immediately turned on her side and climbed her feet, her robes soiled with dirt. She glanced around at the oddly familiar sight of the hooded Death Eaters circled around Malfoy and her, her stomach sinking. Then she stared at the tall, pale man standing a few feet away from them, his red eyes flickering.
"And so we meet again, Ginny," he said in his high-pitched voice. A smile played across his ashen face.
She shuddered. Every unpleasant memory she had tried to forget began to rush back, the blood, the rooster feathers. She blinked back the tears welling in her eyes and struggled to hide the fear spreading across her pale face. She placed a hand in her pocket, groping for her wand.
"Lucius has your wand," Voldemort said amused, "but you won't need it. We're not searching for a fight, Ginny. Draco will take good care of you, won't you, Draco?"
"Yes, my Lord," Malfoy murmured behind her. She remained silent; she couldn't find her voice. She was afraid that if she spoke, her voice would betray the fear and dread that was flooding her whole body. She wouldn't let Voldemort have the satisfaction. Her knuckles were white as she clenched her fists tightly at her sides. What do you want with me? She stared into his impassive, red eyes.
"Ah," Voldemort said twirling his wand in his bony fingers, "I thought you'd wonder." He paused. Not a single breath broke the silence. "Unfortunately, Harry Potter has found the last Horcrux. But he hasn't destroyed it…but I think he intends to. And that is why I asked Draco to capture you."
Before she could contemplate his words, he continued. "You see, Potter cares about you, Ginny. Very much indeed, that if you were endangered in any way, he'd do anything to rescue you. You see, this is the greatest flaw Potter possesses of all. He now has a choice: the Horcrux or you."
She finally understood. The moonlight illuminated her pale face as she stared at Voldemort, her face stricken. Oh, Harry.
"Draco, take her to Spinner's End," Voldemort said with a note of finality in his voice. "Keep her safe. If you fail to do so, you know the consequences."
"Yes, my Lord," Malfoy muttered again. Ginny flinched involuntarily as Malfoy's hand gripped tightly around her arm and pulled her roughly toward him. She felt the familiar sensation of her body compressing together, as though she was being squeezed through a tube--
Malfoy's grip on her arm did not loosen as he dragged her along the cobbles, her footsteps echoing in the cold, night air. Her thick scarlet hair fell in her face as Malfoy roughly pushed her forward, toward a dark house with an air of neglect and foreboding. He pushed the door open, the hinges creaking loudly as they stepped inside. The floorboards creaked under their weight. Malfoy threw his mask off, casting it on the floor. He whirled around to stare coldly at her with his grey eyes glittering in the moonlight, trickling through the dusty window. He walked into the small sitting room, yanking her along as though she could not walk herself. His grip never loosened. Shelves of leather bound books made up the walls. An armchair and a frayed sofa huddled in the center of the small room, beside a rickety table, bathing in the dim light radiating from the candle-lit lamp hanging on the low ceiling.
Malfoy pointed his wand at a row of books, a hidden door swinging open, a narrow staircase revealed in the distance. Silently, he led her through the door and prodded her up the staircase. Her hand brushed against the dusty banister, a few slivers of wood projecting from the handrail. The steps creaked ominously beneath her. The staircase led them into a musty room, a candle flickering on a scuffed table. An unmade bed with piles of moth-eaten sheets sat in the corner of the otherwise, empty room.
"Is this where I'm staying?" Ginny finally said. Her voice was hoarse from lack of use. She cleared her throat.
"Yes, Weasley," Malfoy said coldly.
"It's ironic," Ginny voiced her the thought that she running through her mind for a while now. She turned to Malfoy who stared at her. She could see a hint of fear in his eyes, but he regarded her chillily, an unconvincing fierceness on his face. "Harry broke up with me when Dumbledore died…you know why?"
"Shut up," Malfoy snarled.
Ginny ignored him. "It was because he wanted to protect me. He knew Voldemort--" Her voice quivered slightly as she said the name. She still wasn't quite used to uttering his name carelessly. "--used people he cared about against him. But here I am. And now he has to choose between saving the wizarding world or me." Her voice dropped to a whisper as she said this. The fact had suddenly hit her like a slap to the face.
"So his attempt to save me…it wasn't really successful, was it?" Ginny said staring into Malfoy's face, a shrewd smile on her face. His mouth quivered. "Although, I'm not that worried because…well, it's you."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Malfoy demanded angrily, his eyes flashing.
"You're just as afraid as me," Ginny said simply walking away from him, examining the bed in disgust. "You really don't like doing what you do…being a Death Eater. Don't you think I noticed when your dad had to finish the job for you in Diagon Alley? Or when Dumbledore died? Snape killed him, not you."
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Malfoy yelled. She gasped as he grabbed her robes and turned her round into his menacing face.
"You wouldn't have cared if it wasn't true," Ginny said staring into his face. He released her robes and breathed heavily as he turned away from her.
"Are you supposed to kill me if Harry chooses to destroy the Horcrux?" she asked his back.
Malfoy slowly nodded.
"Good," Ginny said.
"What do you mean, Weasel? You'll die," his voice dripped with venom.
"No," she said. She knew she was frustrating him, but she had no fear. She knew somewhere underneath the façade, he was a frightened boy. He was only seventeen.
"You know, you irritate me, Weasel," Malfoy snapped. He walked to the door and slammed it shut. A click informed her that he had locked the door. She sighed and crossed the room, staring at the bed. She finally sunk onto the tattered sheets, stretching her legs before her.
The nerve Weasley had was beyond comprehension. Draco walked into the sitting room, sinking down into the threadbare sofa. He stared darkly at the table across from him. He was a Death Eater. He was a killer. But you aren't, a voice informed him lightly. He recognized it as Dumbledore's voice. Dumbledore was sailing over the tower, his body broken in the green light.
Draco shuddered, staring down at the black sleeve of his robes. It's my mercy, not yours, that matters now. Those were the last words Dumbledore had uttered to him before Snape finished him off. He couldn't help but wonder how his life would've been if he had walked across the tower, toward Dumbledore.
"Draco, congratulations. You have made the Dark Lord very pleased," a voice drawled. Draco jumped slightly, his hand gripping tightly around his wand as his father sauntered into the sitting room, his mask in his hand.
"Yes," Draco said quietly. "The girl is in the room."
"Hm," Lucius smirked. "Potter will choose the girl."
"And when he tries to save her," Draco started questioningly.
"Well," Lucius said slowly, staring down at his son, "he walks into the room, finally, convinced that he has penetrated our barriers…and sees the girl. And you…and watches her die as you kill her. And he'll realize his efforts were fruitless…and the Dark Lord will kill him as you killed her."
The haunting image floated to his mind, the flash of green light illuminating Weasley as she collapsed on the floor, her red hair flowing on the ground. Potter with a stricken look on his face as he, too, fell on the ground with Voldemort laughing shrilly behind him…Draco shuddered.
"Is it cold?" Lucius asked who was watching Draco very carefully.
"Yes, Father," Draco said impassively. "It is."
Draco knew he was a killer. His grip tightened around his wand, his knuckles shining white. He would kill Ginny Weasley and would never hear any of her lies fly out her dirty, blood-traitor mouth again.
"The Order is frantic now," Lucius said snidely. "The Weasleys are worried about their daughter. No doubt Harry Potter has heard the news also."
"Yes, Potter," Draco said with as much venom as he could muster. But his stomach churned and he felt sick.
"Get some sleep, Draco," Lucius said loftily. "You'll need it. Snape has set up a room for you near the girl's. You can hear if she tries to escape. No need to worry about her wand." He held up the wand, snapped in two in his hand. The half dangled off the other half by a sliver of wood.
"Yes, Father," Draco said quietly, standing up and walking toward the secret door. He walked up the creaking staircase and turned left into a dark room. The bed was clean with pressed sheets. Moonlight fell in strips on the floor through the window. He sat on the bed, staring at the bare wall. He could hear the squeaking of the bed in the other room as Weasley restlessly tossed in her moth-eaten, dirty sheets. An ounce of pity flooded through him. He glanced down at his clean sheets and picked up a blanket, crossing the floor. He stopped outside her door, clutching the blanket in his hand. He swallowed and flung the door roughly open.
He stared coldly at her as she scrambled up from the moth-eaten sheets, staring at him confusedly. He tossed the blanket across the floor. It landed at her feet, dust flying into the air as it hit the floor with a thud.
"Thanks," she whispered, her pale face staring at him. He silently closed the door and locked it again and walked back to his room.
He knew he was weak, but he couldn't help but imagine himself laying on dirty sheets and assumed he would be grateful if someone had tossed him a clean blanket as well. She is a person, after all. Even though she's a blood-traitor, a Mudblood and Muggle lover. He drifted off to sleep with those reassuring thoughts running through his head.
He fell into a fitful sleep, filled with dreams of Dumbledore and Harry Potter. And now dreams of Ginny Weasley haunted him. Her red hair flowing across the floor like blood as she died, her eyes blank…
He woke up in at the break of dawn with the haunting image of those brown, blank eyes staring up at him, pleadingly.
"I am a killer," he said underneath his breath, cold sweat dripping down his nose. He rolled up his sleeve and stared down at the black, ugly Mark, the skull leering at him. He shuddered involuntarily. "I'm a Death Eater, and I'm a killer," he murmured to the Mark. He was satisfied, but somewhere deep inside him, he thought that his voice had sounded unconvincing.
