Chapter 8: Draco's Triumph

Ginny

The whole school is abuzz with rumours about her and Harry, or at least the female population. Ginny feels like she's been thrown into the spotlight, like she's dating a celebrity (which in some sense, she is).

It's not that she was unknown or unpopular before, but this new popularity leaves a different taste in her mouth. It is part curiosity, part envy, and it does not feel altogether friendly. She's never been one to care what other people think. Growing up in a house full of boys, Ginny had developed a thick skin at a young age. Still, she can feel their eyes prickle the back of her neck, the constant feeling of being observed and judged.

Poor Harry, she thinks. He's always occupied this space.

Of course she's been friends with Harry for years, and they've spent plenty of time together before, especially this past summer at the Burrow.

Now, they are friends who snog on occasion, and sometimes Harry will awkwardly take her hand into his. It inevitably grows sweaty, so Ginny removes it, wipes it on her thigh. There is some level of comfort and familiarity, but also a budding awkwardness at the newness of their relationship.

Harry is happy. Hermione tells her as much, the awkwardness between them having evaporated after the match. They sit in the common room and have something akin to girl talk, though neither Ginny nor Hermione normally engage in such things.

"He just seems relaxed, doesn't he? Like he's floating on a cloud," says Hermione with a smile.

Ginny nods, forcing a smile back. She can see for herself that Harry is thoroughly content.

"It's just so natural, you two getting together."

"Like you and Ron?"

"Oh!" Hermione blushes furiously. "Well, I mean, not exactly…"

Ginny laughs and slaps her on the shoulder. "Oh, come on. I'm only having a go." But they both know that Hermione and her brother are as preordained as she and Harry.

She imagines them grown up, both married, the Dark Times behind them, with a gaggle of red-headed children. Just like a picture on a greeting card.

She'll knit hideous Christmas jumpers just like Mum, and fret over whether little Harry Junior is getting into undue trouble.

In the end, she and Harry scarcely see each other because Ginny is studying for her OWLs. She's already written the Transfiguration and Potions OWLs, and they both went well enough. If anything, Hermione seemed more on edge on her behalf.

And Draco Malfoy… she can't help but look at him whenever he's near. She can feel his presence even before her eyes find his blond head in the crowd. Her stomach clenches when she sees him. He looks worse each time, thinner and more pale, his eyes bloodshot, always distracted.

There is an air of desperation about him that she tries and fails to ignore, that creeps into her thoughts when she is alone, and oftentimes even when she is with Harry.

When his eyes flit across hers, there is always that look of betrayal. But he avoids her when he can, avoids her gaze entirely.


Ginny steps outside and takes a great gulp of cold air. It's not that she's avoiding the common room (or Harry); she just needs to clear her head after hours of cramming in the library for the Defense Against the Dark Arts OWL. This one's got to count if she'll have any hope of becoming an Auror someday.

She loops around to the back of the castle, hugging the Quidditch pitch, wandering aimlessly. It's dusk, and there's a sweet, misty taste to the wind.

She looks up to see Draco Malfoy walking towards her.

He catches sight of her at the same moment. And he stops walking, as if unsure if he should go forward, or turn around.

He decides to keep going, and they reach one another on the path, alone for the first time in weeks.

"Malfoy," says Ginny as he approaches. "You look awful." He really does. His robes are neat, as always, but his face is all angles and shadows. He looks exhausted.

"Thanks, Weasley," he drawls. He walks right by her, but then turns around to face her without completely stopping. "How's Potter?"

Ginny doesn't answer. Instead, she says the thing she's been turning over in her mind for the last several days: "I did come to see you in the hospital wing, you know."

He stops then, looking surprised. "When? Why didn't you say anything?"

"Pansy Parkinson was there. I didn't want to interrupt."

"And you got jealous? Is that why … I mean, is that why you never….?" He's not sure how to phrase the question, not sure how to define the tenuous bond they share.

"No I wasn't jealous, Malfoy!" She feels frustration itching up her spine. "I was disgusted. I heard you talking, and it just reminded me how little you've changed."

"Who says I've changed?" But he looks curious, and he takes a step towards her. "What do you mean, then? What did you hear?"

"You talked about blood traitors and the rise of the Dark Lord. You and Pansy, just the same way you've always talked with your Slytherin cronies."

Draco sighs. "It's just words, Ginny. They don't mean anything."

"Don't they?" She is fuming, riling herself up. "So, you don't mean it? You aren't waiting for your Dark Lord to rise up? You aren't all hoping that the Ministry falls, that purebloods will take control, take precedence in the Magical world?"

"No … I don't know. I don't know, okay? I haven't figured it out yet."

"Well that's not good enough. If you were a good person, you would know. You wouldn't hesitate."

"If I were a good person like Potter, you mean."

"I didn't say that. This isn't about Harry."

"Isn't it, though?"

"No," she says icily. "It's about you Draco, and your bigotry, and your hatred. I don't think you're an evil person, but not being completely evil is a pretty low bar, don't you think?"

For a moment, Draco doesn't know how to respond. "I don't think I'm evil," he says finally. "I don't think my family's evil."

"Well, they are. They believe in evil things, and they are following an evil man. How can you not see that? Didn't you say it yourself, how you wish Voldemort had never returned?"

"Don't!" hisses Draco. "Don't say his name." He brings his hands to his face, running his fingers anxiously through his hair. "It's not so simple, can't you see that? These are things I've always taken for granted, that everyone I know, everyone close me, has always believed."

"Well, that's not good enough," she says again. She swallows hard, her anger mingling with something else, something she doesn't want to think about. "I'm sorry, Draco. I'm not saying I don't care about you. But having any kind of relationship, even talking to you like this - it's not fair to myself, to the people I love."

Ginny pauses, wanting to say more, but unsure if she should. "Look, I've already told Dumbledore everything."

Draco looks up, startled, panicked. "What? When?"

"Weeks ago. Before you ended up in the hospital. After we had that argument by the lake."

The colour drains from his face. "Then why hasn't he done anything?"

"He says he knows what your mission is. He told me to forget about it, to let him worry about it."

"No, that can't be true." Draco laughs, like the idea is absurd. "If he knew, he would stop me. He of all people…"

"Talk to the Headmaster. He can help you."

Draco scoffs, his voice growing hollow. "He can't help me."

"Why not?"

"He just can't, all right!"

Ginny feels the blood rising to her face, her Weasley temper flaring. "I don't understand how, after everything you've seen, everything I know you feel, that you would still hesitate to denounce Lord Voldemort."

"Don't say it," he says weakly. "It's not so easy, Ginny."

"Isn't it, though?" She feels the anger full-on now, the helpless anger rushing through her like wildfire: anger that he is failing her, that he won't be the person that she knows he can be. "But I understand now. You were always just a jealous, spoiled prat, weren't you Draco?"

"What?"

"You were never as famous as Harry, or as good at Quidditch, and you weren't as smart as Hermione, and you can't seem to get a proper hex past me. You're always trying to make yourself out to be more special than you are. And now, finally, you are special. You've been chosen, haven't you?"

He unconsciously clutches his arm, where the Dark Mark burns beneath his sleeve.

"Well fine, then. If you want to keep building yourself up on hate and lies, that's fine. But I won't be part of it. You're planning something terrible, I know you are, and it's not too late to back down. But you've got to make that choice. You've got to be brave enough."

He looks at Ginny, and for once his eyes are unguarded, full of worry and pain, of indecision. "It's not so easy," he says again, softer this time. He takes a step closer, and even through her anger, she wants to go to him, to wrap her arms around his neck, to draw him into her.

"Do you love Potter?" he asks.

Ginny looks into his face. Her heart contracts.

"Yes," she says because she wants to believe it. She's got to be brave enough to make her right choice. She will love Harry. She won't let herself have feelings for a Death Eater.

A bare, desperate look of betrayal flashes across his face. And then he composes himself. He looks at her coldly. "You're wrong about me. I've already made my choice." He pushes past her and he doesn't look back.


Draco

He doesn't sleep. He goes to the Room of Requirement every evening after dinner, and he stays there until morning. He's given up using Crabbe and Goyle as lookouts. It's too much hassle, and when it's late enough, the seventh floor corridor is abandoned anyway. Pansy is starting to ask questions about why he's never around, but he feeds her halfhearted excuses: at the library, prefect duties, favours for Snape. It's clear she is not buying them, that she is noticing how unraveled he must look each morning, but Draco doesn't care.

There is so little time, only weeks to go before the end of term, so he is throwing caution to the wind.

He doesn't mind. It's a distraction. And he's getting closer.

Sometimes he is so tired that he sleeps in disorienting bursts, propped up against the cabinet in the Room of Requirement.

In the daytime, he still makes it to most of his classes, but he's lost focus, lost any care he had for school. Trivial lessons in Charms or Transfiguration won't matter in the long run. Next year, he probably won't even be back at Hogwarts. It's not like he has to worry about taking his NEWTs. He may not even be alive at all.

His Dark Mark burns intermittently now. But even this feeling is numbed like all the others, numbed by his exhaustion and his single-focus: the vanishing cabinet.

And then it happens. He's had scarcely an hour in the Room of Requirement, fiddling with the cabinet, rereading the dog-eared pages of the books he'd dug up on magical artefacts, trying the same incantations and adjusting his wand movement. And he senses a change.

He opens the cabinet doors and looks inside. What had always felt like a windy, broken channel now sharpens into focus.

His heart beating, Draco steps fully into the cabinet. If he is wrong, he could become trapped like Montague was last year. But he is not wrong; he can feel it as surely as he can breathe the musty air of the small space. He closes the door, turns around, and opens another door.

Draco steps into Borkin and Burkes. The shop is dark, closed for the day. Outside, he can see the street lamps glittering on the wet pavement; it's raining in London. He can hear the wet smack of rain on the deserted street.

He walks around the empty shop, stunned by his own success. It worked perfectly. Even he didn't think it would be so easy. With all of its charms and its protective spells developed by some of the best wizards of the age, he had managed to open a door directly into Hogwarts.

He grins, the warmth of his success spreading through his chest. He's really done it, and without anyone's help.

The rain continues to fall in a steady, wet pitter-patter. Draco paces, listening to rain, his thoughts looping wildly in his exhausted mind. After a while, he steps back into the cabinet, closes the door, and opens another one. He is back in the Room of Requirement, back at Hogwarts, the sound of rain barely an echo.


A/N Thanks for reading and reviewing! We're getting close to the end here, maybe two or three chapters to go. The next one should be up in about a week or so. As always, reviews are appreciated.