Chapter the Twenty-Third

Draco was, well, concerned. Not so much about Hermione's reply, though that was taking up a large portion of his attention, but instead about Dumbledore. It had taken him a while to realise it, but he was back in lessons. And he hadn't heard a damn thing about his father.

He knocked on Professor Snape's door and shifted nervously from foot to foot outside. Well, he was hardly going to go and confront Dumbledore himself, was he? He'd heard rumours about there office. Apparently there was some huge bird in there, and a sword, and of course that sorting hat. And they ganged up on students. Or something. The guy definitely had some strange things in his office, he had to. He was old. He'd probably been around for the invention of the broom. Though Snape had some interesting things in his office, if you were interested in bits of dead animals and thirteen different types of cauldron.

"Come in," Snape sighed, sounding as though he'd heard Draco's dry mental dialogue. Draco pushed the door open and entered the small room. It reminded him of the dungeons in which Snape taught potions, mostly because it was right next to them and contained many of the same things, though fewer desks and chairs.

"Professor Snape?" Draco hovered next to the door. If Snape wanted him to sit down, he'd say so. There was an order to these things that Draco appreciated. He'd spent a few too many days in here, sharing complaints about the harshness of others teachers in giving him detentions he obviously didn't deserve. Normally he just ended up doing his homework. He liked it when professors left detentions to house heads.

"Sit, Malfoy," Snape drawled.

Draco sat.

"What was it you wanted to see me about? I hear you've been traipsing in and out of the Gryffindor common room."

Uh-oh. That was not the sound of a happy Snape. If Draco wanted information about his father he was going to have to tread carefully.

"I thought I'd left something there, after staying in that awful tower over Christmas," Draco scoffed. "My, um, dressing gown. But I hadn't."

"I seem to recall that you were wearing it the other evening, in our common room," Snape said pointedly, "when I was looking for Pansy Parkinson."

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten," Draco said dully. Damn!

"So, do you have anything else to add?" Snape said after a short silence.

"Oh, yes. I was wondering… why am I back in lessons? What about my father?" Draco managed to look Snape in the eye when he asked this. He didn't like the fact that it was a struggle to do so. All he wanted was the truth. When had the truth become something to be nervous of?

Snape wasn't looking at him, he realised. He was looking everywhere but him. So, he'd been nervous before? This must be sheer terror. Draco fought to sit still. He knew how to keep his face rigid, but it was hard to keep himself from looking at the floor. He hated these habits his father had ingrained in him. Shoulders back, head down, back straight, feet shoulder width apart, hands behind back… Raise his head and he might as well be in the army with all his discipline.

"Ah, yes. I wondered how long it would take you to start questioning this," Snape mused aloud. "Dumbledore," and he grimaced at the mere name, "thinks that no news is good news."

"Oh," Draco said, sounding no more convinced than Snape.

"They suspect he has joined Voldemort," Snape said.

Draco had been waiting for those words for years now. Still, this hadn't been a nice way to hear them. He'd heard them, a few times, but never from anyone he knew meant them. And he'd known. He'd known his father worked for Voldemort. He'd never asked, but he'd heard his father's opinions. It… well, it had never occurred to him that it might be otherwise, but he'd still convinced himself his father wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

His father was... his father was still his father, and even of they ended up on opposite sides of the same war that wouldn't change. Some how Draco had never really seen them on opposite sides, but everything was changing now.

"Is there anything else I should know?" he asked, putting a bit of bite into his voice. He was a Malfoy, after all. He could get away with talking down to the teachers.

Snape hesitated for a moment. "No," he said coldly. He finally looked at Draco. "And I'll remind you not to use that tone when talking to the staff here," he added. "Dismissed."

Hermione was in the library. She had originally gone to the girl's dorm, but Lavender and Parvati had decided to help her by debating the relative merits of a valentine's date with Ron and a valentine's date with Draco. Harry was still in the boy's dorm. Most people had gone to dinner now, but Ron hadn't been hungry and Ginny felt he deserved some sibling solidarity. It was just as well, as Pigwidgeon bundled down the chimney and emerged in a cloud of soot, hitting three different walls, and one twice, before coming to a choking rest at Ron's feet.

Ginny sighed and picked him up by his feet, extracting a scrap of tattered paper from one leg. She let go and Pig tumbled to the ground, almost. At around ankle height his wings started whirring, and he fluttered up to Ron's shoulder, leaving a streak of fine black dust all the way up his robes.

"Pigwidgeon," he snarled, but his heart wasn't in it. Ginny gave him a concerned look. "So, who wrote?" he said.

"Dad. Wants us to call him ASAP. Oh god, I hope something hasn't happened to mum," she worried.

Ron looked horrified. "Anything else want to go wrong today?" he sighed. "I've got some floo powder upstairs. Want to try now?"

"There's no one else around. Wait, is Harry still up there?" Ginny bit her lip.

"Yeah. He'd probably appreciate being included. I mean, what can dad have to say that he won't want Harry to hear?" Ron nodded. "Yes, I'll go and get the floo powder, and tell him what's going on. He can join us if he wants."

"What's going on?" Ginny asked. "I mean, why… what happened?"

"He and Hermione…" Ron stared at her. "I don't know," he admitted. "Hermione thinks we need to practise, I don't know, some kind of 'tough love' thing on him. He's taken exception to that. I've tried speaking to her. I mean, I know where she's coming from but I don't think it will work. He needs us to be there for him, not to shut him out. Or… something." Ron gave Ginny a vaguely pitiful look. "Why everything at once?" he asked softly. "Harry and Hermione, Draco, dad…"

"I'll go get the floo powder," Ginny said. "You clean Pigwidgeon."

"Yeah," Ron said distantly. "I'll do that."

Ginny knocked on the door of the boy's dormitory with an edge of nervousness. She scolded herself for being silly; this was Harry, after all. But that was it. It was Harry. Harry, who she had had a crush on for years. Harry, who had saved her life. Harry, who was best friends with her older brother.

When no answer was forthcoming Ginny pushed the door open slowly and stuck her head around it. Initially there was no sign of Harry, but then the curtains around his bed shifted. Squinting, Ginny could just make out a silhouette through the heavily brocaded material. There was a brief flash of light, which she realised came from a tiny gap in the curtains. The light was glinting off Harry's glasses.

Ginny sighed, and stepped fully into the room. The floo powder was in the cupboard next to Ron's bed. School rules were a bit unclear about floo powder. Students weren't meant to have it in case they took it into their heads to run away, but they were allowed to contact family members by any means they wished, which included floo powder. So some students had some, but they made a point of not flaunting it. Since the Daily Prophet had acknowledged the Voldemort threat, the number of students with floo powder had soared. After entering the Order of the Phoenix over a year ago Mr and Mrs Weasley had given each of their children a small amount, enough for a single journey, in their Christmas cards.

Ron had been sent the letter, therefore Ron was the one who got to do the honours and speak to his father. Ginny dug about in his cupboard, riffling through unwashed socks, what she prayed was washed underwear, several years worth of presents from Hermione, a few old school books and a wizard photograph of Harry, Hermione and Ron.

Ginny stared at it for a moment. When it had been taken Harry had slung his arm around Ron's waist, and Ron had placed one hand awkwardly on Hermione's shoulder. Hermione had her hands full with a large textbook. The Ron in the picture was shooting her coy looks, but she had opened the book and started reading. Harry had withdrawn into the background, sulking under a tree. Squinting into the picture, Ginny guessed he was crying. It made her heart hurt, but that twisty feeling in her stomach that she used to get whenever she saw the black haired boy was gone. Crushes don't last forever, even if you try to prolong them.

That was why Ron had to get his skates on and tell Hermione how he felt. Or, and Ginny felt a guilty pang for thinking it, Hermione should get over herself and tell Draco how she felt. Hermione was her friend, she reasoned, she had a loyalty to her happiness as well as to her brother's. Hermione would be happy with Ron, she knew, but not as long as Draco was in the picture. On the other hand, she'd be happy with Draco no matter how long Ron was in the picture. And Ron would be happy for her, in a strained, sad kind of way. Draco would be bitter and angry and jealous, if Hermione didn't choose him, and he wouldn't let Hermione and Ron get a moment's peace.

"It's up to her," Ginny reminded herself aloud, forgetting where she was.

"What is?" A voice croaked. "And who?"

Ginny jumped. "I'd forgotten you were here," she admitted, turning to look at Harry's bed. He pulled the curtains back so she could see his face. "Dad wrote to us, said he wants us to call him using floo powder. Want to come find out what's going on?"

"Who's 'us'?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"Me and Ron," Ginny said softly.

Harry thought about it for a second. "Yeah, I'll come," he sighed at last. "If Ron's still speaking to me, that is."

"Of course he is," Ginny scolded. "So's Hermione, in a way. She just won't put up with you looking miserable unless you tell her why you're miserable. Until you do, you'll get no more sympathy from her."

Harry stared at her. "Well, maybe it's not something I can tell her," he snapped. "Good friends don't make demands like that on each other."

Ginny grimaced. "Come on, I've found the floo powder. Dad wants us to call him as soon as possible."

She climbed to her feet stiffly and started towards the door. There was a moment of doubt when she wondered if Harry was actually going to follow, but her she heard the curtains flap and the floorboards creak as he climbed out of the four-poster bed. He followed her downstairs, to where a very sooty Ron and a very clean pigwidgeon were still battling.

Ron glanced up. "Great, Harry!" he said, with real enthusiasm. Harry looked startled, but pleased. "Come on, let's get this over with. I'm starting to get really nervous."

"I'm sure mum's fine," Ginny reassured him.

Harry looked horrified. "Do you think that's why your father wants to talk to you?" he stared at his feet. "Should I be here? I mean, if it's a family thing?"

"'course," Ron said awkwardly. "You're practically family."

So they settled in front of the fire, tossed in the floo powder, and Ron stuck his head into the fire, calling "Weasley kitchen" as he did so. Ginny and Harry watched him, listening to the one-sided conversation.

"Hey, dad. You wanted to talk?"

"Just Ginny and Harry."

"Draco's dad?"

"Oh."

"Ooh."

"Oh dear."

"Ah."

"Right."

"Well, I'll keep an eye out. Do you think I should tell him?"

"Draco."

"Huh. I'm not sure. I mean, he was here earlier."

"Yeah, I know, in the Gryffindor common room. The shock almost killed us all. He wanted to talk to Hermione. He asked her to go down to Hogsmeade with him, on the weekend after Valentine's day, the bastard."

"Sorry, mum."

"Okay. Look, the floo powder's almost run out, so we'll have to cut this short. I'll tell the others to watch out, okay?"

"Yes, love you too. Ginny says hi."

"Yeah, I'll tell her. Okay, bye."

"Yes, mum. Goodbye."

Ron withdrew his head. Ginny and Harry were astonished at the white shock on his face.

"Lucius Malfoy's only gone and escaped," he breathed, "the absolute bugger."