Please read my author notes at the end of the chapter. I know that there are tons of them, but they're all important, especially the last one. I'm going to reply to an anonymous review I got from harrypotterchick4ever. Normally I wouldn't, but I want to answer those questions.
Reply to harrypotterchick4ever - I don't know quite how many chapters I plan on having or when the story will end. I suppose by now it's past the halfway mark, but it's not close to over yet. And about Draco having to hate the boy to kill him…I was thinking of that while I read it. In the OotP, Harry couldn't perform the Cruciatus curse on Bellatrix. But I don't think he couldn't do it because he didn't hate her. Goodness knows he hated her with all of his heart. The way I'm rationalizing Draco's killing the boy is that he (nor anybody else, for that matter), has to hate the person to kill him. If he has the power and strength enough to do so, then he can kill them without hate. I imagine that not all of the Death Eaters hate the people they kill.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 28: I'm Still Your Son
Draco collapsed on the floor when he, his father, and the Dark Lord Apparated back to Malfoy Manor. Scrambling to his feet, Draco's eyes darted back and forth between his father, who was staring at the wall, and Voldemort, who was watching Draco carefully.
"I think we are finished here tonight," Voldemort said slowly.
Still wet and trembling, Draco clumsily stood and leaned against the wall. He stared at Voldemort, now unable to take his eyes away from the face he despised with all his being. Those red eyes were gazing into Draco's, holding some sort of promise, some sort of curse. They were glowing, becoming brighter and brighter until they were replaced by two beautiful blue eyes. The new eyes stared accusingly back at Draco, and Draco shrank away in horror.
Without another backwards glance at Voldemort or his father, Draco fled the room. He tore down the hallways, knocking aside a House Elf in his hurry. The doors blurred together as he ran past them. One door at the end of the hallway seemed to stand out from the rest as a beacon, a haven that Draco could lock himself away in.
Draco pushed the door to his bedroom open and rushed inside, slamming and locking the door behind him. He leaned his back against the door and panted. His teeth chattered, both with cold and fear.
I killed someone, was all Draco could think. I killed another living human being.
Murderer.
Murderer.
Murderer.
The words rung through Draco's mind like bells, harsh and unforgiving.
Murderer.
Murderer.
Murderer.
He clapped his hands over his ears, trying to block out the sound of his own voice uttering the fatal curse that ended the life of one boy whose face would not leave Draco alone.
Draco's wand clattered to the floor and rolled under his bed. The room was dark save for the occasional jolt of lightning that lit the entire room as if on fire. The storm outside was abating, but to Draco, the storm in his own heart was just beginning.
Closing his eyes, Draco willed away the look of the little boy falling lifelessly back into the mud. However, when Draco closed his eyes, the scene only became realer. He opened his eyes and stared dully at the opposite wall, a few beads of water dripping off of his chin. Draco's hair was now plastered to his head, the water slowly trickling down his forehead and into his eyes, but Draco didn't blink.
I'm a murderer, he thought in shock. I'm no better than a Death Eater.
Part of Draco tried to tell himself that it wasn't his fault, that he would've died if he hadn't killed the boy, but he couldn't. His conscience wouldn't allow it. I should've died, thought Draco. Long ago I swore I'd do just that rather than become my father.
I've failed.
Draco tried to swallow past the hard lump in his throat. As a shiver traversed through his neck, his eyes rested on the mirror that was hanging on his wall. Surreally, Draco crossed the room and stared at the mirror hanging at eye-level. For the first time since he had killed the boy, Draco was able to see himself.
His hair stuck to his head and his face was pale white. Draco's lips, which were usually curved into some degree of a smirk, where now lying limply in a straight line. Draco's eyes no longer seemed to hold any traces of life; normally dark and moody, Draco's eyes were now dull and listless.
Leaning closer, Draco stared into his eyes as if he was searching for something. His pupils were large and accusing, staring back at Draco with hatred. Deep within their depths, Draco could see a now-familiar pair of blue eyes gazing at him with fear or pain no longer but now with hatred and unforgiving contempt.
Quaking in his soggy brown shoes, Draco clenched his fists. It's not my fault! he shouted in his mind. The blue eyes stared back at him, driving needles into Draco's soul. I'm sorry! he yelled. The eyes looked sadly back at him.
You'll never be sorry, they said. You'll never be free.
"No!" Draco shouted, slamming his fist into the glass; the haunting eyes disappeared. Shards of piercing, broken glass tore into Draco's fingers, knuckles, and hand. Torrents of pain skittered up Draco's wrist and into his arm, but he didn't even flinch. The pain brought relief from the horror, the grazing, chilling horror of remembrance.
Looking down, Draco saw bits of glass sticking out of his hand. He pulled a rather thick piece out of one of his knuckles and blood start oozing out, inching slowly down the back of his hand. He held his hand up to the window where a tiny stream of moonlight was sneaking through two parted clouds and watched in chilling awe as the blood left a hot trail down his arm.
Draco slid down to the floor amongst the shattered remains of his mirror and rested his back against the wall. Blood leaked from Draco's right hand, which was cradled in his lap, onto his wet clothes.
Closing his eyes, Draco tried to forget what had happened that night. However, it seemed the harder he tried to push that house out of his mind, the realer it seemed. The little boy's face was emblazoned in his mind forever, Draco feared. The boy's brown hair, dimpled face that would never smile again, blue eyes that before must've held laughter, and body that never had the chance to grow into a man. The boy would never experience what it was like to love a woman, to get married and have children, to become an old man and have his grandchildren sit on his lap, to die peacefully in his sleep. Those pleasures had been ripped away from him by Draco Malfoy.
It's all my fault, he thought dully. If I hadn't even been born, that family would still be living. If I hadn't been born, my mother would have her freedom.
It's all my fault.
As if mechanically, Draco felt something shut down inside himself. It was as if his system died and he was just a person without a purpose, a body without a soul. Draco's eyes traveled slowly about the room he had grown up in, had hidden in as a child. The mirror where he had seen the boy's eyes hung before him, now just an empty, broken frame.
Just like Draco.
For all of the next day, Draco sat up in his room. Not once did he go downstairs for anything to eat; he ignored the rumbling in his stomach. For that entire day, Draco sat dejectedly in the broken glass on his floor. The surrounding area of his hand had turned white from the loss of blood, but when Draco started noticing bits of red streaking up his wrist, he had finally said "Reparo" and gritted his teeth as every little bit of glass in him had wiggled its way out of his arm and reattached themselves to the other broken glass and fitted back in the mirror frame. Fearing that the blood poisoning might become life-threatening –but secretly hoping it would so he could die and forget his pain– Draco had dug through old healing books under his bed for a cure. He had nicked the books from his father's study years ago when he had wanted a way to heal his injuries after his father's tirades. They had come in handy more times than Draco could count.
Though Draco's hand was now healed, he refused to eat. That feat wasn't too hard to manage since no House Elf or human had come to his room since the day before. He spent his time sitting there, stuck between self-pity and self-hatred; Draco didn't know which he liked more.
However, the next morning, the morning of the day that he was supposed to return to Hogwarts, Draco ventured out of his room. Since he hadn't eaten anything since lunch on Christmas day, and it was now the morning of the twenty-seventh of December, Draco was famished.
Having cleaned up slightly, Draco exited his room and walked down to the kitchens. As he walked inside, several House Elves approached him, timidly carrying trays of food. Draco had grabbed a ham sandwich and stuffed half of it in his mouth before one Elf could ask him what it was he wanted.
Draco didn't say one word to the House Elves as he downed two glasses of water and six more sandwiches. Without looking them in the eye, he exited the kitchens and walked back to his room. He felt slightly better with food in his stomach; at least he wasn't so hungry that he felt like he would throw up.
Inside, though, Draco was just as somber as ever. There was only one thing that was able to take his mind off of the little boy, however slightly. That one thing was his mother.
Draco still wasn't sure where he was going to take his mother, but he knew that in half an hour when he left for London, his mother would be with him. He didn't care if he had to smuggle her onto the Hogwarts Express and bring her into Hogwarts, but Draco wasn't going to leave her here. Not this time.
Some tiny part of him, the part that was still rational, told Draco to wait to rescue his mother until he had an actual plan. The other part of him, the part that was destroyed along with one little boy, was just telling Draco to get his mother out now no matter what the cost. He didn't want anything to happen to the one person he had left who just might care. She might not know that she cared, but Draco knew that she did. The letter she had written him four years ago told him that much.
Trying not to think of anything except his current goal, Draco opened his trunk in his room and started half-heartedly packing. He didn't think he'd ever wanted to go back to Hogwarts as badly as he did now. Anywhere would be better than here.
As he put the last few objects in his trunk, Draco reached under his bed and picked up, for the first time since Christmas night, his wand. Draco stared at it and swallowed. How could such a little thing cause so much pain, both to its victim and wielder?
It's not the wand, Draco thought slowly. It's the unstoppable forces that drive it to the deed for which we condemn the wizard. It's the wizard. It's me.
Shuddering, Draco pocketed his wand inside his robe and started dragging his trunk out of his room. Halfway out the door, he turned and took another look. He was fairly positive that he wasn't missing anything. The ring was still tucked under his shirt, but Draco hadn't given it a second thought since first putting it on; the only reason it was still there was because Draco had forgotten about it.
Draco half-heartedly walked down the hallways and out the front door of Malfoy Manor, loading his things into the trunk of the car. Snow was falling gently from the gray sky above. The air held no traces of wind but was thin and still. Draco's breath came out in a small cloud as he determinedly headed back into the house, his feet crunching on the gravel drive.
Once inside, Draco walked towards his mother's room. He hadn't seen her since the night he'd gotten home from Hogwarts; no doubt his father was keeping her locked in her room, and this only served to stoke Draco's anger. He'd had enough of his father and his Death Eater ways.
With his wand, Draco unlocked the door to his mother's room –locked from the outside– and walked inside. Narcissa Malfoy's room had never lacked either comfort or lavish belongings, but it still held a revolting chill despite the fire blazing in the grate. There was an enormous white bed standing against one wall with a plum-colored canopy hanging over it. There was only one window in the entire room; it rested above a nook in the wall that served as a window seat and looked over the west side of the Manor. Draco remembered this from seeing his mother in the glass bulb. She had been sitting right there.
Narcissa's room was an L-shaped room. Walking around the corner, Draco saw her sitting in a chair in the far corner of the room reading a book. A basket of roses enchanted to live forever hung above her on a chain. Narcissa looked up and for a second Draco saw her eyes grow wide with surprise. In a flash, that look was gone and a relaxed, supercilious one replaced it. Draco wasn't fooled, however; he knew that it was because the Imperious Curse had kicked in.
"Come, Mother," Draco said, going up to Narcissa and grabbing her by the elbow.
"Draco! Draco, what do you think you're doing?" Narcissa demanded, dropping her book in an effort to pry Draco's hand off of her arm.
"We're going for a ride," Draco said commandingly. "Come on."
"No, Draco," Narcissa said, shaking her head. When Draco started pulling her towards the door, she started frantically trying to shake her arm free. Her feet dug into the floor in an effort to slow down Draco.
Exasperated, Draco turned around. "Stop it," he said. "Snap out of it, Mother," Draco said, looking her straight in her light blue eyes.
"Draco, I don't know what has gotten into you, and I certainly don't know what you're talking –"
"I know you're in there," Draco said in a low voice that shook with emotion. He grabbed his mother by the shoulders and leaned closer, staring hard. Her eyes, now frightened, grew wide and stared back. "Come out."
"I – I don't k-know wh-what you're," Narcissa said, her speech becoming slurred. She closed her mouth into a hard line and beads of sweat appeared on her forehead. She shook her head roughly back and forth.
"Come on," he pleaded, willing for his real mother to appear. Her eyes were locked on Draco's and he could see the battle going on in them. Draco held his breath, waiting to see what would become of it. Her arms were stiff and trembling in his.
Suddenly, her arms went slack and she sunk to the floor. Her hand shakily went to her forehead and she looked around her room and finally up at Draco. Tears formed in her eyes and she whispered breathlessly, "Draco."
Joyously Draco knelt down beside her and pulled his mother into his arms, hugging her tightly. His heart seemed lighter then than it had in days. He stared at the wall behind his mother, his eyes so misted over that he couldn't see anything anyway. He didn't even have the ego or heart to conceal his tears. He'd spent the last few days more emotionally unstable than ever already; a bit more couldn't hurt. Draco could feel his mother's arms tentatively snake around Draco's back and hug him, only to cling fiercely to him the next moment. Narcissa's arms were wrapped around Draco's as if for dear life.
"Draco," she whispered, her voice quavering. She pulled away and looked at him wondrously. Her hands came up and held Draco's face. "My son."
"I found your letter," he said. At this, Narcissa's mouth quivered and she broke down in tears, resting on her knees and burying her face in her hands. Not quite knowing what he did wrong, Draco rubbed her back and remained silent.
"Can you forgive me?" she asked, finally looking up at Draco. "I'm so sorry, Draco," she said sincerely, a few tears still falling from her eyes. "I tried, honestly I did. I never wanted any of this to happen to either of us. I tried to get away. But…but he –"
"I forgive you," Draco said. The words sounded so foreign to his ears that he sat back on his knees in shock. "I forgive you," he repeated, wishing forgiveness would be able to come as easily to himself.
At these words, Narcissa smiled, truly and genuinely. The skin crinkled around her eyes when she did so, proving just how little she ever did smile. In a moment, though, all traces of happiness were gone.
"But Lucius, where is he?" she asked fearfully, her eyes darting around the room. "If he finds you hear, we're both dead."
"It's alright," Draco said, hiding his uncertainty. "He's in his study and has been for the past few days. I'm taking you with me."
"No," Narcissa replied instantly, backing away from Draco. "You can't. He'll find out and come after us. I have to stay."
"No you don't," Draco said angrily, standing up. He cringed when he saw how his mother recoiled from the sound of his anger. More calmly, he stated, "I'm taking you with me to Hogwarts. We'll figure something out then."
Narcissa shook her head. "It won't work. It's too late for me, Draco. I never meant in that letter for you to come after me. I just wanted you to know the truth."
"Well that's not good enough," Draco said. He bent back down in front of his mother and grasped her hands in his. "We can stop this, right here and now. Just come with me. You don't have to worry about Father. I won't let him touch you again."
Her lip trembling, Narcissa looked back at Draco. Her eyes took in his face, his hair, his clothes, everything. "You look just like your father," she said in a voice mixed with fear and admiration. "You've changed, Draco," she said, looking him in the eyes.
Draco looked away for a moment, hoping with all his heart that his mother didn't know what he had done, even though he knew there was no possible way she could know. After a minute he looked back up. "I'm still your son," he said, his voice laced with emotion.
Narcissa smiled again. "You are," she said. "You are my son."
"I am," Draco replied, pulling his mother into a standing position with him, "and that is why I'm rescuing you."
"But Draco –" Narcissa began but her son cut her off.
"No," he said firmly. "Just come on."
"But Draco, wait," she said. Draco stopped.
"What?" he asked.
"I am still under the Imperious Curse," she said slowly. "I can throw it off, but your father has become agitated with you home and has made it even stronger. I do not know how long I can hold it off and if I step out of this room…" she trailed off, trembling. "I don't know if I'm strong enough," she said sadly, turning away in shame.
"Then I'll be strong for the both of us," Draco said. "Come on, we haven't got long. Hampton will be bringing the car around for me shortly. I intend for us to be back at Hogwarts long before Father finds out you're missing."
Shaking her head as if she didn't think it would work, Narcissa followed Draco to the door. "Do you have a wand?" Draco asked his mother.
Narcissa shook her head. "No. Lucius took it away years ago."
Nodding, Draco cautiously opened the door and peered out into the hallways. To the right, the direction he needed to go, there was nothing. To the left, a House Elf was just disappearing around the corner. He looked back into his mother's bedroom at the clock on the wall; there were only five minutes until he needed to be downstairs waiting in the foyer for Hampton to come assist him with his school belongings. That didn't give Draco quite the amount of time he'd been hoping to have, but it would have to do.
"Come on," Draco said, leading his mother out into the hallway. She looked around nervously and kept close to Draco like a frightened puppy. Draco, his wand out and ready, started slowly down the corridor. His ears attentive, his heart beating, and his palms sweaty, Draco swallowed and crept on.
They got downstairs and were walking down another hallway, the foyer at the end of it, when Draco started to believe that they just might make it out. He picked up speed until he and his mother were jogging; they came to a stop in front of the door. Draco opened the door and peered out into the snow. Nobody was in sight, though the snow made it hard to see what exactly was going on out there.
Draco was just about to walk outside when his mother jerked on his arm. He spun around and looked.
"Draco –" Narcissa choked out, her head shaking and eyes pleading with him. She was fighting with all her strength the Curse, which was taking hold of her again. "Draco, I don't think –" She broke off and bent over in anguish, tremors shooting through her entire body.
Just as Draco was looking around nervously, wondering what he should do, a shadow appeared in the open doorway and he heard footsteps coming from outside. He cursed and pulled his mother over to the side, trying to shield her from sight as someone walked inside, brushing snow off of his hair and coat.
"Master Malfoy?" Hampton asked, his hands stopping in mid-brush. "Are you ready to –"
Behind Draco, Narcissa moaned and started pulling on her hair, still fighting not to give in yet lost to her surroundings. Hampton stared.
"But –what is Mrs. Malfoy doing out and about? Oh, Master will not –"
"Quiet, Hampton," Draco hissed, his heart pounding in relief. It was only the butler, not his father. They still had a chance. "Be quiet and listen to me." Narcissa started shaking more violently and Draco sat her on the floor, fearing she might collapse. "I'm taking my mother with me. Is the car ready? Help me bring her out and then let's go. We need to get away before my father comes."
"Master Malfoy will not be pleased," Hampton said fearfully, staring white-faced at Draco. "I do not think it wise that we bring the Mistress with us. I would be in so much trouble; I could lose my position."
Draco thought Hampton would do well to lose his job and get as far away from Lucius Malfoy as possible, but he didn't say that. "Now is not the time to argue," he continued. "She's not staying here anymore with him and Hampton, I swear if you tell anybody about this –" But Draco halted at the look of pure terror on the butler's face and the way he inconspicuously jerked his head towards the back of Draco.
Spinning around, Draco saw Lucius Malfoy coming down the hall. His heart fell. It was over. They were caught. There'd be no rescuing his mother now. Draco would be locked away and never allowed back to Hogwarts. He'd be forced to become a Death Eater. It was all over.
"What is going on here?" Lucius demanded coldly once he reached the three people. Hampton looked down at the ground, his hands clasped before him in fright. Narcissa was now sitting placidly on the floor like a child, a calm, if somewhat haunted, expression on her pale face. Draco stood tall and looked his father in the eye.
"We were just about to leave and Mother came to say good-bye," Draco said. "Then she collapsed. I think she is getting becoming ill, Father."
Lucius Malfoy looked at Narcissa for a long time. During that time, Draco tried to remain calm. He knew that his mother was back under the power of the Imperius Curse and would say nothing now, but once Draco was gone, Lucius would pry the truth from her.
"I will see that she stays in bed for a long, long time, then," Lucius said, harshly dragging his wife up. "Go back to your room, Narcissa," he spat.
Draco watched as his mother walked away without a backwards glance at her son. Lucius glanced at Hampton sharply before turning his gaze to his son. Draco and Lucius Malfoy stared eye to eye for several minutes.
Then, without a word, he turned around and stalked down the hallway towards his study. Though he had said nothing to Draco, the look Lucius had sent him was enough to chill his son's very bones.
Hampton and Draco were left standing alone in the doorway, the cold winter air blowing in on them. For a minute, Draco could only stare at the hallway that his mother had walked down. He had been so close to saving her. They had almost been free.
But Draco had failed.
Again.
He still couldn't stop his mind from reeling in shock from the unfairness of it all. Why had his father picked that moment to come out of his study, after all those days being shut up in it? Why had fate seemed so determined to drag Draco down this holiday? Why did nothing go right for him?
"Let's go," he said sadly, slowly walking out of the Manor. The snow teased his face and Draco blinked his eyes. The black sedan was parked closer than earlier, meaning Hampton had been waiting for him. Still indignant that he had failed, and even more that they had been so close at escape, Draco sat down inside of the car.
Hampton cautiously got inside as well and started backing the car out of the driveway.
"Sir," he said when they were a few minutes down the road. Hampton glanced in the rearview mirror at Draco, who had his arms crossed and was staring stonily at the floor. "Sir, what happened back there?"
"Nothing," Draco replied. He sighed, knowing that that was an inadequate answer, but he didn't want to go further into this discussion. "I didn't mean to threaten you back there," he said, looking up and meeting Hampton's eyes in the mirror. "It's just…"
"Never mind that, Sir," Hampton said. "I know you wouldn't do anything. You're a good person. You're not like your father."
Draco looked down again. I wish that was true, he thought sadly. He didn't have the heart to contradict Hampton, not when Draco had almost gotten him in trouble. "Please don't say anything to him," Draco said, still looking at the floor.
The car was silent for a minute. "I won't," Hampton finally replied. Draco's heart felt slightly lighter, though he knew it wouldn't be long before Lucius found out the truth anyway. His mother was an incredibly strong, brave woman, but he didn't know how long she could hold out against Lucius.
"Thank you," Draco said, looking out the window at the snow-covered grounds that rushed past them.
"Have fun, Ginny," Molly Weasley called to her daughter as Ginny boarded the Hogwarts Express.
"I will, mum," Ginny called back. "Don't worry."
"And Ron, don't forget to study for your N.E.W.T.S. so that you do well," Mrs. Weasley said to her youngest son.
"Okay," Ron said, climbing on board behind his sister. Ginny had already seen Hermione patrolling the hallways of the train, helping some of the younger students getting settled in their compartments and making sure that the older ones behaved. Ginny walked through the corridor and found a compartment containing only Luna Lovegood halfway down the train's length.
"Hello, Luna," Ginny said, shoving her trunk under the seat and sitting next to the Ravenclaw girl. "How was your Christmas?"
"Very interesting," Luna replied in that dreamy voice of hers that made many people feel uncomfortable. Ginny, as well as her brother and friends, had gotten used to it for the most part. "My father and I spent the holiday up in Sweden and were able to see the migration of the Wrangling Octawanglers."
"Octa-what?" Ginny asked, raising her eyebrow.
"Wrangling Octawanglers," replied Luna, putting aside a copy of the Quibbler. "They're an ancient species first discovered by Philip the Fantastic in 1681. For years wizards thought they were extinct but recently a school of them was discovered up in the Gulf of Bothnia."
"Oh," Ginny nodded, suppressing a smile. She had never heard of one of the creatures that Luna ever spoke of, but there was never any reason that they couldn't exist.
Ginny settled back in her seat and watched as Luna picked up her copy of the Quibbler and started reading it again. Looking at the door, Ginny wondered where Harry had gotten to. It wasn't that she was expecting him; he was probably with his fellow Gryffindor friends. Hermione and Ron would have to patrol the corridor for a while after the train left the station to make sure that everybody was behaving, and then they would probably join Harry in whatever compartment he was in. Though Ginny was used to their company on the train rides, she found herself at the moment enjoying the quiet of just Luna's company.
"That's a pretty sweater," Luna said, looking up from her paper.
"Thank you," Ginny smiled, looking down at the green sweater her mother had made for her. "I got it for Christmas." Mrs. Weasley had smiled when she saw her daughter wear the sweater that morning, but Ginny wasn't wearing it just for her mother's sake; she honestly liked the sweater.
After an hour or so into the train ride, neither Ron, Hermione, Harry, or anybody else had come to their compartment, and Ginny came to the conclusion that they probably wouldn't for the rest of the day. Luna fell asleep rather quickly, her head leaning against the window, the Quibbler slipping an inch or so out of her hands every few minutes, and Ginny soon grew bored with nobody to talk to. She tried to amuse herself for a while by imagining what everybody in her family was doing, but that fast grew tiresome.
Able to stand the boredom no longer, Ginny left the train compartment and walked down the corridor, thankful to stretch her legs. She headed back the way she had come because that was the last place she had seen her friends, but she before she got very far she got stuck behind a large crowd.
Grumbling, Ginny stood on her tip-toes to see over the top of the students in front of her and she was able to see the lady with the trolley busily taking money from students and handing out candy.
"Why is she so busy?" Ginny murmured to nobody in particular. A fourth year girl in front of her answered back without turning around, "A new candy just came out that when you eat it, you taste your favorite food in your mouth for a few hours afterwards." The girl started to turn around. "It was just released by George and Fred Wea – well, by your brothers!" the girl exclaimed. "You're Ginny Weasley!"
"Yeah, yeah," Ginny replied vaguely, wondering why Fred and George hadn't mentioned anything to her about a new product.
"Hey, do you think that you could get me one for free?" The girl asked excitedly.
"Please," Ginny scoffed. "They don't even give me free things." Ignoring the girl's disappointed look, Ginny tried to push her way through the crowd but apparently they were dead set on getting some of Fred and George's new product, because they wouldn't let Ginny pass at all. When she tried to get past the trolley lady and find her brother and friends, she was rudely pushed to the side against the wall of the train.
Disgruntled and indignant, Ginny folded her arms and waited. She was beginning to wish she was back in the solitude of her compartment, but it was too late for that. The corridor was very crowded and stuffy and Ginny turned around for better air.
It was then that she noticed that the compartment door she was standing in front of contained a person Ginny had grown quite accustomed to over the past few months. Through the tiny window of the door, Ginny saw Draco Malfoy sitting alone on the seat, staring straight at the floor before him. The smile that had appeared on her face disappeared as Ginny saw how terrible Draco looked. His eyes had dark shades under their lids and his face and hair looked as if they hadn't been washed in a few days; the only things normal were his finely pressed clothes.
Worry filled Ginny. What could have happened to him that would've made him neglect his appearance this way? Could something terrible have happened to him? Ginny wasn't even sure that he was aware of his surroundings, because Crabbe and Goyle suddenly pushed past her into the compartment with Draco and he didn't even look up or acknowledge them at all.
Not wanting to be caught staring, Ginny scooted out of view of the window and stood next to the door, pondering what was wrong. Something obviously was. If it hadn't been for his appearance, Ginny would've thought that Draco was just tired, but clearly there was more to it than that. But no matter how much time Ginny and Draco spent together, there was no way she could ask him what it was. Ginny tried to tell herself that she didn't care about it anyway, but the more she thought about it, the more she knew that that was a lie. She did care.
And that frightened her more than anything.
Surreally, the crowd seemed to thin, though Ginny knew not how long that took. Once she was past the trolley lady, the hallway was empty and Ginny was able to quickly make her way down the corridor, peering in the windows to see where her brother was. She soon found Ron, Harry, and Hermione in a compartment. As she entered the compartment, Ron turned and looked at her with a look that clearly said he wanted Ginny to leave, but she just shot him an ugly look and walked up to the group and shut the door behind her.
"Are they sure?" Hermione asked.
"Yes," Harry replied, taking a copy of the Daily Prophet out of Ron's hand and looking at it more closely. "And besides, it's right there for everybody to see. It's no joke."
"What is it?" Ginny asked, looking over Harry's shoulder at the paper. He handed it to her and Ginny saw in large print on the headline:
Christmas Mourning: Muggle's Holiday Interrupted
"What –" Ginny began, confused.
"Voldemort murdered a Muggle family on Christmas," Hermione said. "Down in Kent. It was just discovered yesterday," Hermione continued sadly. Ginny looked at Harry, who was sitting on one of the benches with an angry look on his face. She knew that ever since their adventure in the Department of Mysteries, Harry had been thinking more and more about his relationship with Voldemort and what would come of it eventually. Ginny was worried for him and how each more attack would affect him, but she picked up the Daily Prophet and began to read.
The day after Christmas, a Muggle family was discovered murdered in their house in Kent. It is suspected that it is the work of either Death Eaters or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named since the Dark Mark was floating over the scene of the crime. All victims of the raid showed signs of having been killed via the Avada Kedavra, one of the three Unforgivable Curses. (See page 6, Unforgivable.) Muggles showed up at the house the day after Christmas, having seen a "suspicious sign" in the sky and wanting an explanation. Pandemonium broke out and a Ministry team of Obliviators was sent to modify all the memories of Muggle witnesses. Aurors showed up shortly after to search for clues.
The Muggles that were murdered were a family of four. Wesley Grant, 37, and his wife of twelve years, Adelaide, 35, had two children. The oldest was Aidan, 9, and the youngest was Sara, recently turned two. One Auror, Morgan Riley, explained that "Both adults and the youngest child were found dead in the upper level of the house, but young Aidan –we had at first hoped he had managed to escape, you see– was discovered lying in the mud near an old shed."
Aurors expect to continue searching for the Death Eaters responsible, though there is little hope circulating throughout the Ministry that the culprits will ever be caught…
Ginny put the paper down, sickened. Being murdered on Christmas was almost too much to fathom.
A chill seemed to sweep through the silent compartment. The noise of happy students in the hallways seemed so out of place that Ginny just wanted to run back to her compartment and forget she had ever left.
"This has to stop," Harry suddenly exclaimed, slamming his fist down on his knee, looking up. "How long will we have to live in fear of him? Something has to be done!"
"Harry," began Hermione consolingly, "Harry, it's not your fault. Don't punish yourself over this. There's nothing you could've done."
Harry looked away. "I know," he said, sub-consciously rubbing his scar. "It's just that as long as I'm sitting here safe and sound, nobody else can live at all. Sometimes I just feel things would be better if…" he trailed off with a look at his friends before him.
"As if what, Harry?" Ron demanded, though something told Ginny her brother already knew what Harry meant, that they'd been through this conversation before.
"Nothing," Harry muttered, glancing at Ginny. Ron looked quizzically at Harry for a moment before looking at his sister.
"Ginny, leave," he said, waving his hands towards the door.
Ginny, glad for a reason to get away, left without a complaint. "Ron, don't tell her to leave," she heard Hermione reprimand her brother as she walked out. Though she was glad that Hermione was willing to stick up for her, Ginny really didn't feel like being with them at the moment anyway.
Not anymore.
By the time Ginny got back into the corridor, most of the students that were clustered around earlier had disappeared. She passed a very hassled-looking trolley woman, but neither females said anything to the other. Ginny swallowed as she passed Draco's compartment, but she refused the temptation to look in.
Ginny spent the rest of the journey in her compartment with Luna, who slept most of the way. Half an hour before they reached Hogwarts, Ginny woke the Ravenclaw girl and they put on their proper Hogwarts attire.
As they were sitting in the carriages traveling up to the castle, Ginny's thoughts flew to what was happening to Neville. Ever since her and Draco's last excursion down into the tunnel and run-in with the strange creature down there, she hadn't thought of going back. Now, however, that Neville was gone, one of her own friends, her ambition was fired up again. She felt a bit braver, though she had no idea where that came from.
She pulled out a bit of parchment from her trunk along with a quill and some ink.
Malfoy,
Meet me down by the tunnel at midnight tonight. We've waited long enough to go back down there and figure out what that thing is.
–Ginny
Satisfied, Ginny rolled the letter up and stuffed it in her pocket. She'd mail it after dinner that evening.
It was time to find the truth.
Dinner that night couldn't end quickly enough for Ginny. After Headmaster Dumbledore's welcome back speech, she started absentmindedly piling a variety of food onto her plate and eating it, all the while concentrating on how she and Draco could possibly outsmart the creature under the castle. Last time they had been unprepared for anything else to be there, so she used that as her excuse of why they had been so easily overpowered. Surely, with the two of them armed and prepared, they could overtake the creature easily enough, or at least sneak past it to see what was further down the tunnel.
Ginny hardly listened to her brother and Harry go on and on about the upcoming Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. She had barely thought to herself I'll need to go pick up my new broom sometime soon, before she tried to stealthily sneak a glimpse at Draco. He was sitting with his back to the rest of the hall, staring straight at his food. Disgruntled that she could only see the back of Draco, Ginny was forced to eat without being able to study him.
As soon as she could make a decent escape, Ginny left her friends, saying that she was tired and wanted to go to bed early. None of them had challenged her; they all seem preoccupied with discussing the recent attacks of Voldemort, all earlier conversation of Quidditch gone.
Ginny headed straight for the Owlry. She had left from dinner early, sure, but Draco had left even earlier. His usual Slytherin cronies were still there stuffing their faces, but he had left. It wasn't unusual for him to do so, however; she'd seen him wander off alone before.
Once in the Owlry, Ginny grabbed one of the school's barn owls. The large tawny owl hooted once after Ginny's letter was attached to its leg before it took off into the cold night air. The snow had finally stopped, much to everybody's delight, and Ginny watched as the owl flew around the castle and towards the Slytherin Tower.
Ginny then left the Owlry and walked back to her own dormitory, satisfied with her work. Most of the students from dinner were starting to mill out of the Great Hall. If she hurried, she could get back up to her room before Ron, Hermione, or Harry found out that she hadn't gone there already.
Scooting in between a group of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, Ginny briskly walked back up to the Gryffindor Tower to find only a few of the younger students in the common room. Happy, she walked up to the sixth year girls' dormitory where her trunk and other belongings were waiting for her.
Ginny sat down on her bed with a sigh. It was good to be back at Hogwarts, but she couldn't help but feel a bit sorrowful. There was one Gryffindor boy who was not back. Ginny was determined to do everything in her power to find Neville, starting that evening when she and Draco went back down into the tunnel.
Draco looked up vaguely at the window when he heard the tapping of an owl. His first thought was that it was from his father, so he made no move to get up from his bed. He'd left dinner early and was set on falling asleep, falling asleep so that he could forget his current anguish; forget, that is, if he didn't have the nightmares that had been haunting his sleep as of yet.
Draco grumbled as he rolled over and tried to drown out the insistent owl's tapping by burying his head under the pillow. His father could just keep whatever messages he had to himself.
But then a thought struck Draco. His mother. Perhaps his father had found out what Draco was trying to do with Narcissa earlier and was sending some sort of news. Though Draco knew no news from his father was good news, he thought it best that he at least knew what was going to happen.
Reluctantly getting up from bed, he crossed the dormitory and opened the window to see not his father's owl fly in but one of the school's owls. Then he knew at once what this owl brought, and he almost didn't untie the letter, but he did. The owl, sensing, most likely by not being let in sooner, that he would get no sort of congratulating treat, fluttered off, purposefully knocking his large wings into Draco's face as he did so.
After he read Ginny's letter, Draco crumpled it up into a tiny ball and tossed it into the embers of the fire that he had let die out. Climbing back into bed, Draco pulled the covers up to his chin. There was no way he was going to go meet Ginny Weasley this night or any night. It would be better if he severed all contact with her, really.
And besides, it wasn't his fault that students were going missing. Draco frowned. It wasn't his responsibility anymore to sort out the truth…nobody suspected him any longer, not since the Christmas Ball when it was so obvious that the culprit was someone else.
No, it would be much easier to just forget about it. I already have enough trouble to deal with at the moment, he thought sadly. I should be in Azkaban right now. I don't deserve to live. I'm a failure in every sense of the word. I couldn't save my mother and I certainly didn't stand up to Voldemort or my father.
Draco stared at the wall, curled on his side. Involuntarily he started trembling. He had seen the article in the Daily Prophet this afternoon about the family he had helped murder. Aidan Grant, he thought. Now he had a name to put to eyes that haunted him whenever he closed his own. Aidan.
Draco swallowed the lump in his throat and tried to ignore the hairs standing on the back of his neck and the insatiable cold that seemed to cling to him shoulders.
Ginny paced back and forth outside the entrance to the tunnel, waiting for Draco. She had borrowed Ron's watch, which was firmly clasped around her wrist, so that she knew what time it was. She had left the Gryffindor Tower ten minutes ago. Ginny checked her watch; it was now midnight. Draco should be showing up any second.
But the seconds came and went, turning into minutes, and Draco never showed. Ginny stopped her pacing and frowned as she checked the watch. Yes, it was still working, but now it was half past twelve 'o clock and there was nobody standing in the dark hallway except Ginny Weasley.
Where is he? She thought angrily, standing with her arms crossed staring down the corridor. I told him midnight…why hasn't he shown up? Maybe the owl got lost?
That hope was squashed though. Hogwarts owls were trained not to get lost, to deliver their message. Draco would for sure have gotten the note. The only reasoning Ginny could come up with was that Draco had simply decided not to come.
Her mind racing with confusion and disappointment, Ginny finally gave up and walked slowly back to the common room. She had been so eager to confront the monster down there, whom she was convinced was the key to the person stealing the students if not the person itself, but now she would have to wait. Tomorrow she would send Draco another note. He couldn't refuse twice, could he?
That's what Ginny kept telling herself all throughout the next day. She didn't see Draco at all, not during meals or in the hallways, but she kept thinking that she was just always missing him. That night she wrote another letter.
Malfoy,
Look, I don't care why you didn't show up last night, but come tonight, same time, same place. If you don't show up, I'll just go by myself.
Ginny
In her determination, she had tied the letter to the owl's leg a bit tighter than she'd meant to, and that resulted in her receiving a bite on the hand before the owl flew out of the Owlry.
"Bloody owls," Ginny muttered, sucking the blood off of her thumb as she walked back to the Gryffindor House to hopefully get a few hours of sleep before midnight came.
But midnight came and went once again with no sight of the Slytherin boy. Ginny, her hands clenched at her sides in anger, stomped over to the tunnel and ripped the door open, her wand drawn and lit so that she could see.
I won't let him ruin my plans, she told herself, viciously kicking a rock aside. Just because he's being a baby doesn't mean I can't do this myself.
Ginny swore as she walked through a cobweb, stopping to brush the sticky string out of her hair. She closed her eyes for a moment, willing her temper to die down, before she continued on.
This time as Ginny walked through the tunnel, she barely paid any attention to her surroundings; she was too intent on her current mission. Before she knew it, she came to the curve in the path that signified where the secret tunnel began.
Ginny halted, anger and embarrassment flooding her senses. The stone, she thought, groaning. There was no way for her to get down the real tunnel now. She needed the stone to place in the ground to activate whatever magic it was that controlled the hidden tunnel, but Draco had the stone, and Draco was stubbornly refusing to meet Ginny.
Grinding her teeth, wondering what exactly she was supposed to do now, Ginny stood there, her wand shining light on the rock wall before her. She felt stupid. Draco was probably up in his room laughing his heart out over Ginny, thinking her a complete fool for forgetting about the stone.
Ginny spun around and stomped back up the tunnel, her face set in a hard line and her cheeks red with embarrassment. By the time she got out of the tunnel, she was so angry that she felt like marching into the Slytherin House and hexing Draco into next week. In addition, she felt like hexing herself into next week, being so ignorant and headstrong as to forget exactly why it was that she needed Draco to go with her.
When she got back to her room, Ginny got into bed as quietly as she could, wondering why in the world Draco wasn't showing up. For a moment she remembered the way he had been sulking in his compartment on the Hogwarts Express, and she wondered if what had happened to him over the holiday had somehow affected him more than she had originally thought.
Even so, thought Ginny, turning onto her side, he could've at least written back and said he wasn't coming so I don't look like an idiot. Or he could give me the stone.
Fuming at the blonde-haired Slytherin boy, Ginny fell into a restless sleep.
Weeks passed. Ginny hadn't forgiven Draco yet, but she didn't have much time to be mad at him either. January was almost over and the teachers were starting afresh with the new semester, laying the homework on them thick.
But despite the amount of work Ginny had to do, she never stopped thinking about how much she wanted to get back to what she considered the real work. The longer she was unable to get into the tunnel, the more she wanted to go. She had only seen Draco at a few of the meals, and only once in the halls since coming back from Christmas. Ginny couldn't for the life of her figure out why he was being so reclusive, but every day she grew angrier and angrier.
She had written him a few more notes, the first one being particularly unpleasant, but in the others she had been a bit nicer, asking if he would please give her the stone. She never received an answer, and Draco never even looked at her in the Great Halls as if he had ever gotten a letter from her before in his life. It was as if he had suddenly decided that she didn't exist anymore. For that matter, it was as if he had decided that nobody else existed either. She never saw him talk to anybody anymore, and from what she had overheard from Ron and Harry, he was failing Transfiguration and Herbology, much to their delight.
When she was in a few of her calmer moods, Ginny worried about him. In her six years at Hogwarts, she had never seen him like this. But then indignation would return at the humiliation she had suffered and her avid dislike of him returned.
In addition, she had seen two of the school governors walking around the lake outside with Dumbledore, the three of them discussing something, a few days ago. Ginny had a nasty feeling that she knew why there were there, too. Neville Longbottom had been missing for nearly a month now. Surely the Ministry and school board would've been notified. Ginny remembered back in her first year when there had been a threat of the school closing because of the basilisk and the attacks, but thankfully everything had been resolved before those drastic measures were taken. Ginny didn't want the school to be closed again. Albert Harding and Trent Johnson had been questioned by the governors, but they had been unable to yield any information. Realizing that there was little that they could do, they had left the school. Dumbledore had assured them that he was doing everything in his power to figure things out, and the board held a high respect for Albus Dumbledore now, so thankfully they hadn't said when or if they'd return.
One thing that was able to take Ginny's mind off of things was Quidditch. She had picked up her new broom from Hogsmede the weekend after they had returned. It had been a hard time talking Harry and Ron, and Seamus, Dean, Colin, and Dennis, for that matter, out of accompanying her on that trip to Hogsmede. All of the team seemed to be eager to see her new broom. But Ginny knew that there would be questions from the president of Quidditch Supply Plus about why Draco Malfoy, the real winner, had given up his prize; she couldn't have anybody else knowing that. Ron had protested when she told him to stay behind and asked why he couldn't come, but Ginny had said she also had "girl things" to do beforehand. Ron had looked at her questioningly for a moment, not seeming to understand what she meant. When Ginny had opened her eyes wide for dramatic effect and nodded her head slowly, Ron had suddenly seemed to get it. He had recoiled from Ginny as if she were a monster, a horrified look on his face as his whole face became red. He had glanced a few times at Harry and the other members of the team before embarrassedly walking off. Ginny had laughed about it the whole way to Hogsmede.
And with the addition of the new broom to the team and the dispersal of the old school broom, which the entire team had celebrated, they had won their next two matches, one against Ravenclaw and one against Hufflepuff, putting Gryffindor in first place for the Cup. Slytherin had fallen into last place. Their Seeker, Draco Malfoy, had been absent for most of the games, only showing up for one in the past four. This had caused the fate of the game to rely solely on the Slytherin Chasers to score more than one hundred fifty points before the other team caught the Snitch, something they hadn't yet accomplished.
Ginny was walking back from the Owlry late one night, having had to send a letter to her mother telling her how the latest Quidditch game had gone –her mother loved to see how her two youngest children were doing on the team as well as in school– and she was trying to get back before curfew. The staircase that she usually took to get from Gryffindor Tower to the Owlry had moved and was stuck in a position where nobody could use it, so she was forced to take a very long, very cumbersome detour around the whole castle.
Just as Ginny was brushing a bit of owl droppings from the shoulder of her robe, she saw a head of white-blonde hair disappearing around the corner ahead of her. Her heart leaping, she sped up and flew around the corner.
"Oi!" she shouted, and the person turned around. It was Draco. "What are you doing out here?"
"Coming back from a detention," he said wearily. Ginny was about to open her mouth but stopped when she noticed just how much worse Draco had gotten. His eyes looked hollow and dead, their former grey brightness now reduced to a dull color that was frightening to behold. His face and rest of his body seemed much thinner than before, making Ginny suspect that Draco was skipping meals. His hair was clean yet un-brushed and sticking about oddly.
"Where have you been all these weeks?" she demanded, some of her earlier anger dissipating at his ragged appearance. "Why did you never show up down there and why haven't you been answering my letters?"
Draco looked at her for a long moment before he shrugged his shoulders. Ginny stared at him.
"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked.
"Nothing," Draco replied as emotionless as ever.
"Well –" sputtered Ginny, trying to be mad at him. She had mentally chastised and argued with him for almost a month now, coming out of the spats victorious. Now, however, all of the things she had wanted to say to him seemed to have run away. "Well, why didn't you show up?" she repeated, feeling embarrassed once again.
"I didn't feel like it," Draco said.
"Didn't feel like it?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Why not?"
"I had a bad holiday," he said, his gaze removing from Ginny's so that he looked at the ground. Ginny stared at the top of his head angrily.
"You…had a bad…holiday," she repeated slowly. "You had a bad holiday." Draco's head lifted slightly, but his eyes still rested on the ground. "A bad holiday? That's why you've been ignoring me?" Ginny asked louder, her temper rising. "Look, I don't know what happened to you to make you so bitter, but stop feeling sorry for yourself and –"
Ginny was cut off by Draco's hands closing around her throat as she was slammed against the stone wall. Stars erupted in her eyes as her head smacked the wall behind her; she saw a blurry shadow of Draco's head orbiting about his real one. Ginny was distinctly aware of his body pressing up against hers and the feel of his breathing heavily on her face, but his hands tightened even further around her neck and she gasped, trying get some get some air.
"Shut up," Draco said roughly, giving her a little shake. "You don't know the first damn thing about what you're talking about, so just shut up," he finished hoarsely. Ginny tried to pry his hands off of her neck but his grip was as hard as metal. "I think," he continued, his hands tightening even further, "that if you found out your mother was under the Imperius Curse your whole life and that's the reason why she never loved you, you'd be entitled to a little pity. And if the only person that the pity came from was yourself, then I think you'd take it." Ginny stopped struggling and fearfully looked Draco in his eyes, where she saw equal fear, hatred, and unrestrained power.
Black spots appeared before Ginny's vision and she closed her eyes, now fervently trying to pry Draco's hands off of hers. "And if," Draco began again, his grip loosening slightly, "and – and if your father and –" his voice shook as well as his hands around Ginny's neck. "And if your – your father and –" he looked away, unable to continue on. A strange buzzing was filling Ginny's ears, and surreally the thought that she was about to pass out went through her mind. Draco looked back up at her with a renewed anger in his eyes, but something told Ginny that the anger was not directed at herself.
Abruptly Draco removed his hands from Ginny's throat and he took a few steps back. Ginny sank to her knees, taking in several deep breathes. She rested her head against the wall behind her and warily looked up.
Draco reached into his pocket and pulled out the stone that Ginny had wanted to see for the past month. He threw it on the floor near Ginny's feet and said, "Go solve your own damn mystery." Then he turned swiftly and continued walking on without another word back at Ginny.
For several minutes, Ginny sat there in the dark, her head leaning against the cool wall. She willed the beating of her heart to subside and her head to clear of the fuzziness. When she could breathe normally, she picked up the stone and looked at it. Never before had he become so violent. Or at least, she had never seen him so violent. Her throat still ached where his hands had closed about it.
Maybe I went a little far, thought Ginny as she gingerly stood up. She contemplated what to do next. The rational part of her told her to go back to her room and forget what had happened tonight, but the other part of her was scared. And sometimes when one is scared, something even more frightening is needed to chase away those fears.
So Ginny did what she had wanted to do a month ago and started down the tunnel.
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A/N: Ok, I like I said earlier, I have quite a few author notes. So please be patient and read through all of them.
We'll start with small stuff. In the newspaper article that they were reading, the headline, that's not a typo. It's not supposed to be "Morning", as in 'get up early in the morning,' but as "Mourning", like you're going to a funeral and there's lots of mourning for the person that died. It's because newspaper articles always have a catchy headline, and I thought this was, sort of, so I don't want you guys to think it was a typo and was boring.
Another thing, just so you guys are clear on this…Draco's not being haunted by the ghost of the boy. I know sometimes in this chapter it sounds like he's being haunted, but it's just his conscience.
Also, a while back when I was writing previous chapters, I ran away with too much plot. You see, my little plot bunnies got a little over-excited and ended up chewing more carrots than they can digest, and now I'm paying for it. So a few of the past chapters are going to undergoe a re-write so I can fix some things.
And I'm moving soon, so there will be a time period of 1-2 weeks where I won't be able to write at all. I'm going to try getting up 1, maybe 2 more chapters before I move in addition to having one written beforehand so that when I get all settled in, I can post one right away. I'm just giving you a forewarning.
PLEASE READ! Ok so if there is one author note I want to be read, it's this one. So I bolded it to catch any of you readers who may have been skimming. Anyway, in this chapter, there is a line that I used in another chapter. It's the same exact line, and it's only used in these two chapters. Now, the two situations it's used in (one in here, one in a previous chapter) relate to each other. Not relate in the sense that it's important to the plot, but in an analytical sense. See, in the situation in a previous chapter, the meaning is literal. In this chapter, where that line is concerned, it's figurative.
Now you may be wondering why I'm telling you this…I'm going to give you guys a chance to "compete" for a prize. Well, two prizes, really. See, I want you guys to try to find what line I'm talking about, the one that's in this chapter and also in a previous chapter. Whoever can find that line and leave me your answer in a review, (must be a signed review, I'm afraid), I'll reply to that review and give you "directions" on how to find this truly amazing bit of Ginny/Draco fan art that I came across. And you must also tell me what other chapter this line was used in. Not that hard if you figure out what the line is.
And the second prize. Whoever can give me the line, and then also tell me the analysis involved, (meaning, how the two situations relate to one another, one literal, the other figurative), will get not only the directions to the picture, but also a chapter dedication. Yes, I will dedicate the next chapter to whoever tells me the analysis. Even if more than one person guesses it, I'll give it to both.
Ok, now I hope that didn't confuse you. Recap:
One small line is used in this chapter that was also used in a previous chapter. In the previous chapter, the situation that it's in is literal. In this chapter, the situation that it's in is figurative.
Whoever tells me the line and what other chapter it came from gets directions to an amazing picture of Draco and Ginny.
Whoever tells me the line and then also the correct analysis of the situation (doesn't have to be really long, can be really simple) will have the next chapter dedicated to them as well as the picture.
I'll give you a few hints about the line, because although it seems fairly simple to me (but that's because I wrote it…) it may be harder for you.
Hint 1: The line isn't a line that anybody speaks in either chapter.
Hint 2: It is not a long line. Less than 5 words, more than 3 words.
Hint 3: In both situations, the line is a scene from Draco's POV.
Hint 4: I'll go ahead and tell you which chapter the other line was used in. It was back in chapter 22. But that doesn't mean it'll be easy to find...22 is so far my longest chapter.
Now about the picture…I found it when I was surfing through the internet. It is a truly amazing picture. Well, technically it's two pictures. They are two links (one of Draco, one of Ginny) right next to each other, so you have to open them up separately, but they are so life-like and so beautiful. I am in awe of the person who drew them. And who knows, maybe it's even one of you. And you may have already seen it before. But it's amazing and I want to share it with you. I promise, it's not a bad picture. No naked people or anything.
Wow this is turning out longer than I wanted it to. I don't think many of you will have a hard time finding the line, not with the clues I gave you, but the analysis may be a bit trickier. Good luck!
And don't forget to review. You're rewards depend on it.
And please note that it must be a signed review. Even if you've never reviewed before, I'll still give it you to. But I can't respond to an anonymous review, and I'm sorry about that.
Lauren
