AN: I've revised the prologue, adding a scene with Draco, and also revised a bit of chapter one and three. If you've already read through the story, you should at least go back and read the prologue.

Chapter 6: A Beginning Near an End

"Two people in love, alone, isolated from the world, that's beautiful."
-Milan Kundera

Fifth year had been a disaster. Harry Potter had somehow gotten pulled into the Triwizard tournament. Draco had gone to the Yule ball with Pansy Parkinson and in the resulting fallout, they hadn't spoken for what seemed like years to Genevieve. And the worst happened. Cedric Diggory died. He had been killed by none other than Voldemort himself, Harry Potter swore. That was what finally brought Draco and Genevieve back to their senses. It also brought them even closer together and Genevieve eventually forgot how angry she was with Draco and how upsetting it had been to see him dance with Pansy.

There was a darkness brewing off in the distance. They could both feel it. And it was terrifying. It had once seemed as though nothing could harm them while they were safely hidden away at Hogwarts, but seeing Harry crying over Cedric's lifeless body had brought everyone to their senses. The danger was real and it was coming for them.

It hadn't been easy keeping this from her parents. Had her mother and father known, she wouldn't have been allowed to return to Hogwarts again. She'd spent most of summer holed up in her bedroom. She owled Draco daily. Hermione had owled her once. She hadn't hadn't said much in reply, only that she hadn't told her parents what was going on. She'd told Hermione to be careful. And then one day, a familiar, shaggy, black dog had appeared in her yard.

It was after dusk and the streetlights were already on. Her parents were busy watching television. Genevieve had watched Sirius transform with wide eyes. Time had stopped as the pair had stared at one another. Genevieve couldn't help but notice Sirius's grey eyes were so close in color to Draco's. She hadn't moved when Sirius brought his hands up to cup her face and said the last thing she could have ever guessed.

"You look so much like your mother."

"My mother," she whispered, watching as he sat down on a piece of wrought-iron patio furniture. She fell into a matching chair across from him. He smiled. "Persephone. Persephone Pendragon. She was..." he breathed in deeply, a sad smile on his face, "she was the love of my life."

"You're my father," she said slowly, "what happened?"

"Your mother was unlike any witch I'd ever met." There was a far off look in his eyes as he spoke. "She was truly special. Everyone loved her. Even my cousins, Narcissa and Bellatrix. They adored her. There was just something about her that made you fall in love with her instantly. Sides didn't matter when it came to her. I'm sure it bothered Narcissa and Bellatrix that she wouldn't choose what they considered the right side, but she was a pureblood and that was what mattered to them

"My mother loved her, I think, even if Persephone hadn't been a pure-blood, my mother would have loved her," he mused, chuckling, "I'm sure my mother thought she would be the one to bring me back into the family, make me see what the Black family knew to be right, but the opposite is what started to happen. She made everyone forget that they were on different sides, that they hated each other. And that's what killed her. She blurred the lines, like you do."

"What do you mean?"

Sirius looked at her, his grey eyes solemn as he spoke. "Your mother didn't take sides. She believed that all of us would come together. She believed that some of the death eaters would come to realize that blood status was not an issue. And she was right; some of them were beginning to understand. Narcissa Malfoy was one of them. And Bellatrix would do anything for Narcissa, which is why at first she tolerated your mother. They all summered together our fifth year. They never approved of her spending time with blood-traitors and muggle-borns. But they were coming around-at least your mother thought so.

"And then James and Lily were killed." His expression darkened and all happiness seemed to drain from his body. "Peter Pettigrew, betrayed the Potters to Voldemort. When I was sent to Azkaban, she disappeared."

"So, she could still be alive," Genevieve ventured hopefully, Sirius gave her a comforting smile and shook his head. "Your mother's past is...complicated at best. Nobody really understands where she came from, how she came to be at Hogwarts. But I think, what led to my imprisonment, broke her. And because of it, she left and she'll never be coming back."

"But how could she believe that you could do those things?"

"She knew I was innocent, but there was nothing she could do. I wouldn't have wanted her to try to help me. It was dangerous then. Bellatrix went mad when she disappeared. She claimed I had killed Persephone. I don't think she was ever able to admit to herself that it was Voldemort's fault. That he was responsible for what had happened. Narcissa took it just as hard." He looked up at the sky, toward the stars. "It's not surprising to me that you would befriend Draco Malfoy. It's something your mother would have done. She would be rooting for the two of you."

"He's not what everyone thinks he is," she defended. Her father gave her a knowing smile, "No, I don't believe he is."

They spent over an hour talking. Sirius told her about the Order of the Phoenix. While Genevieve wished to join she was aware of the conflict it would cause between herself and Draco. She told Sirius as much and Sirius admitted he wasn't too keen on the idea of her joining. "War is so much more than taking sides, Genevieve."

"What should I tell Draco?"

He grasped her gently by the shoulders. The look in his eyes spoke volumes. "Tell him everything."

The day she left for her sixth year, there was heavy weight on her chest. She listened as her mother and father bantered the entire way to the station. Her father had sandy hair that was just beginning to gray at the temples. Her mother's hair was similar in color, with blonde highlights throughout. They seemed older that day and Genevieve found that she was just now noticing their laugh lines, worn into their skin. They had lived a happy life together. She stared at her mother's worn, magenta jumper, noticed the frayed collar of her father's jean jacket. She listened intently to the familiar purr of the car engine. This was what was defined as normal. She didn't belong there; not anymore.

For the first time ever, her mother and father followed her onto platform nine and three quarters. The three of them stood and stared at the Hogwarts Express in silence until her mother finally spoke. "Is that the boy who has been writing you?"

Genevieve looked in the direction her mother indicated. Further down the platform was Draco. He was taller than last year, even. His black suit was perfectly tailored and immaculate. Both his parents were present. His mother looked regal as ever, her blonde hair pinned up in an intricate updo. Her black and green dressrobes every bit as expensive looking as Draco's suit. And then there was Lucius, with his long pale hair, sharp cold eyes, and that black lacquered cane standing proudly as he watched Narcissa fuss over Draco in a manner that was much more motherly than she would have expected.

Genevieve looked up at her mother, a disappointed frown on her face. "You've been reading my mail?"

"How else am I supposed to know what goes on while you're at school," her mother defended, not in the least bit ashamed. "I worry about you."

"You know then," Genevieve asked quietly, "about...about the war?"

She felt her father squeeze her shoulder. "We know."

Genevieve looked back toward Draco. "I don't know what will happen."

Her father squeezed her shoulder again and she felt tears well in her eyes. "I'm scared."

It took her a moment to realize that Lucius Malfoy was staring at her, his gaze critical. He gestured toward her with his cane and Genevieve looked away. She turned to her parents, then. The three stood in silence again, simply staring. Her mother tried to smile. "It'll be okay. You'll make it through."

"Will you be okay," she asked them. They enveloped her in a hug. It was all the answer she needed. She stepped away from them and put a hand on her trolley. They waved at her once before passing back through the barrier. She stared after them, the atmosphere on the platform just as subdued as her emotions. She felt unusually numb at the moment. There was a faint clicking sound on the floor. She glanced down out of the corner of her eye, unsurprised to find a shaggy, black dog sitting beside her.

"I knew you'd come," she said quietly, "it's started, hasn't it?"

Genevieve knew Sirius wouldn't answer. He merely looked up at her. She reached down and rubbed him behind the ears. "The Malfoys are staring."

And they were. Lucius Malfoy was sneering at her in disgust. Narcissa was a mask of indifference. She let out a long sigh, gripped her trolley tighter and started in their direction, ready to pass them without acknowledging their presence. Sirius kept pace beside her, panting. It was hard not to turn and meet Lucius Malfoy's unyielding stare, but she managed, her head held high. She had never felt so uncomfortable in her life. She didn't have to look to know that Draco was probably staring at the ground, ashamed.

She turned and hugged Sirius before boarding. "I promise, I'll write. Be careful."

Genevieve slid into the nearest open compartment and put her trunk away. It didn't take long for her to figure out nobody else grasped the severity of the situation when the other students boarded the train and they seemed to be in much higher spirits. All they wanted to do was gossip about Harry. He had been attacked by dementors, there had even been a trial. Everyone was calling him and Dumbledore liars. But she knew better. Harry was right. He was in the thick of it. He, Ron, and Hermione knew just like she did. And she knew because of Draco. It was going to get worse. People were going to start dying soon.

Her friends sensed her solemn mood and left her to her own thoughts. Katie seemed the most perceptive, but she didn't push. She knew not to press Genevieve about things. Her feelings of foreboding became clear once they arrived at Hogwarts and Delores Umbridge made her speech.

Somehow, the squat woman managed to make looking like a delicate pastry utterly sinister. It put Genevieve off cotton candy for a while. Hermione looked uneasy, she could see. It only confirmed her suspicions. It wasn't until Defense Against the Dark Arts that she really came to understand just how dire the situation at Hogwarts was becoming. The school wouldn't be safe for much longer and the students would be absolutely defenseless.

Genevieve wouldn't outwardly rebel. She wouldn't fraternize with anyone intent on rebelling. They would be discovered and the punishment would be severe. It would be best for her to learn to defend herself in secret, alone. Three weeks after the start of Fall term, Genevieve approached Draco with her proposition. They were standing beside Black Lake.

"I want you to duel me and I want you to use the Dark Arts when you do." Draco looked incredulous at first. Then his expression slowly melted into outrage. "Vivvy, you can't be serious! There is no bloody way I'm going to try to hit you with a cruciatus or-"

"Then I won't know how to defend myself and I'll die," she argued, cutting him off, "along with the muggles, the half-bloods, the blood-traitors, and anyone else who won't join the death eaters."

Draco's shoulders slumped in defeat. "If we're caught..."

"I'll take full responsibility." She assured him. "I know the risk I'm taking and I'll accept the consequences without hesitation."

Draco agreed hesitantly, making it clear that he was displeased with their new arrangement.

When Harry, Ron, and Hermione formed Dumbledore's Army, Genevieve declined their offer to join. Harry became suspicious immediately. "Why not?"

"I would prefer not to get in trouble with Umbridge, Harry. I'm a muggle-born. Things would go badly for me. I'm not willing to take that risk." This answer had not been enough for him. His green eyes had hardened dramatically. "Why is it, I always get the feeling you're hiding something from me?"

"Why is it you think anything and everything having to do with anyone is your business," she shot back. They were the only four in the common room. Ron looked just as determined as Harry and Hermione looked conflicted. Harry stared at her for a long time. "What is it you know?"

"What is it you know," she threw back at him. "You know more than I do, Harry. I'm just a muggle-born witch, trying to survive. You're the boy who lived. You'll make it through."

She started to walk away then when he stopped her, pulling her to face him roughly. "How is it you know Sirius Black?"

She yanked her arm free of his grip and scowled. "Why are you asking me? Why don't you ask him if you're so sure we're connected?"

"I have," he admitted, his frustration growing, "he says he's never heard of you."

"There you have it," she replied evenly. It was becoming far too easy for her to lie. "He sent you something over a year ago. What was it?"

"It was a package from my father, you nosy git," she snarled, her temper getting the better of her. She was dangerously close to screaming. "Would you like me to go and get the photograph of him and my mother that came with it? Perhaps, you'd like to read the letters they've sent me this term as well? My mother bought a new toaster and my father finally got around to fixing the garbage disposal. Our neighbors got a new dog and my mother swears that they're letting it piss all over her prize-winning dogwood tree. Do you need to go through my trunk? Would you like to know what color knickers I'm wearing today? Perhaps you'd be interested to know I had some strudel at evening feast. I'll have my mother owl you a copy of my medical records some time within the week!"

"This isn't a game, Genevieve," he insisted, and she felt herself grow cold. "No, it's just my life." She didn't wait for a reply. "Did it ever enter your thick head that if any of you get caught, the ministry will forever be mucking about in your lives? You know how long this will last-what's coming. It could go on for years. I don't want to be in the thick of it unless I'm forced to." She raced up the stairs to her dormitory.

Classes were a bore. Her mind was too preoccupied with her dueling sessions with Draco. They met once a week in secret in the Forbidden forest during their free periods. Soon, they were meeting every other day to spend time together. She'd managed to talk Draco into doing whatever it was Umbridge asked of him. Even if it meant putting her in danger. She didn't want Umbridge to become suspicious of him.

They had finished a rather heated dueling session and were seated at the foot of a tree when Genevieve asked, "So, how are things with Parkinson?"

"We're not together." Genevieve snorted. "She seems to think so."

"She's mistaken." He looked far from pleased by their conversation. It was the third time they'd fought over his involvement with Pansy in the past two weeks. "Are we really going to fight about this again?"

"Who said we were fighting," she asked, aware of the animosity in her voice. She couldn't help it. She absolutely hated Pansy. She hated Pansy Parkinson more than any other student at Hogwarts. The girl rubbed her wrong in so many ways.

"She's not that bad."

"Not that bad," Genevieve cried, indignant and full of anger-anger she wasn't sure she knew the source of," that girl is a disgusting, foul little troll! The way she hangs of you is just embarrassing! Acting as if the two of you are so in love. It makes me sick! I hate her!"

"You don't even know her," Draco argued back, his own anger flaring. Genevieve crossed her arms and yelled back, "I don't want to! I don't want to know anything about her. She's a cockroach! Pond scum! Dragon dung!"

There was no reason for her to be so angry at him. He could do what he wanted with whomever he wanted. She knew she was being irrational, but she couldn't stop it. The more she thought about it, the more she pictured Pansy draped all over him as if she belonged there, the more her insides twisted and ached. And the more pain she felt, the angrier she became. It wasn't right. It was all wrong. Pansy and Draco were wrong. They made her whole body burn with unmitigated rage.

She could feel her whole body heave with every labored breath she took. Draco looked just as furious, his eyes were blazing as he glowered at her. "What? Am I just supposed to let you tell me what to do? Who to talk to, what to think? Who to snog-"

"You shouldn't be snogging anybody," she screeched, as everything exploded into red and her body began to pulse violently along with her heart. "What is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with you," he screamed back, charging at her like an angry bull, "why are you acting like I have to do anything you say?"

She wanted to slap him and rip out his hair. She wanted to pummel him until he shut up. She wanted to scream at him to go back to the castle and never speak to her again. "Sod off, Draco," she seethed at him, turning on her heel and practically running from him. "Son of a-Genevieve MacDuff, get your arse back here!"

She really did run then. She ran as fast as she could into the castle; the cold night air had burned her lungs and made her muscles stiff. They were already becoming sore, but she pushed on. Her heart was still racing when she stopped. Somehow, she'd ended up in the Astronomy tower surrounded by dusty crates of telescopes that weren't likely to be used any time soon.

The frigid air burned the exposed skin of her legs and she focused on it. It helped her to forget what she was feeling. She slipped her shoes off to rub her feet. They hurt from running. Those had not been the correct shoes to wear when running away from your best friend after having a fight. She hauled herself up on a crate and pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them to her body. She was freezing now that most of her anger had dissipated and all that was left was embarrassment and an extreme sense of loss.

But what was she losing? While this was by far their worst fight to date, she was sure they would have more. They always fought now. But it never felt like they were truly angry with one another. It was as if they were angry with themselves and some other emotion they couldn't identify. At least, Genevieve couldn't.

Why did it matter that he snogged anyone? Of all the things in the world to be cross about, why was this the one thing that drove her mad? Why was it always Draco that pushed her off-balance with his actions? She wiped at her eye with her shoulder and sniffed; it caused her whole body to convulse violently. Did she care too much? Perhaps, she did. She didn't care about any of her other friends in this way. Would she upset if Katie got her heart broken? Yes, but she wouldn't have had a problem with Katie falling in love in the first place. She would have been happy for her. So, why wouldn't she be happy for Draco? Why did the idea of him being happy with some perfect, pureblooded witch make her absolutely miserable? Why did it lead her to believe that she would be absolutely inconsolable if he ever fell in love with anyone? She had to be supportive of him. It was her job as his best friend, but she couldn't find it in her heart to approve of him and any other girl together...any other girl.

The cold truth of it slammed into her like a the gusts of wind that assaulted the Astronomy Tower. She, Genevieve MacDuff, liked her best friend, Draco Malfoy. And it was possible that she had for quite some time. It made her feel even worse. How thick could she be? And why did it have to be him? She fought the urge to cry harder when she realized why it was she had fallen for him. He protected her. He listened to her. He cared about her and he was the first person at Hogwarts who had.

They had enough problems in their own lives separately without her complicating things needlessly. This had to stop. And it had to stop now. She couldn't do this. Not now. Things were about to get worse in the wizarding world and she was mucking things up royally. She had to make it go away.

She wiped her eyes and began to pull on her shoes and socks, silently cursing herself as the tears continued to fall. She wiped at them again with shaky hands and numbed fingers. She had to get it under control.

"Vivvy?" That one concerned yet cautious voice made her feel like breaking down all over again. She choked on a sob as she sniffled and answered back, refusing to look up. "Please, Draco, I need to be alone right now. Just please, leave!"

"Vivvy..."

"Leave," she cried out, her voice strangled, "I can't talk to you right now." Genevieve buried her face in her arms and began to shake again. The tears were streaming now; there was no stopping them. "Please, just go away," she whispered to herself. She flinched when she felt his hands, colder than ice, gently cradle her face, pulling her up to meet his gaze.

"Tell me what's wrong," he pleaded softly, sounding oddly muted considering the tension that surrounded them. "You know I hate it when you cry."

In that moment, it didn't matter to her what happened. It didn't matter if she had him in her life or not. Anything was better than feeling the way she felt at that exact moment and she needed that feeling to end. She yanked away from him, ripping his hands from her face. "That's just it, Draco! Stop it, stop all of it-just stop!"

Even in her hysterics she could almost pinpoint the exact moment he began to shut down. His eyes became hard like glass and his spine became rigid as his entire body tensed, towering over in a way that implied his pride would not be wounded. But she wouldn't be cowed by his suddenly cold demeanor.

"I need you to just stop. I need you to quit caring, I need you to call me a "mudblood" like you do everyone else; I need you to hate me." She paced back and forth, aware of his piercing gaze as he watched her stalk back and forth with a neutral expression. "I need you to just..."

She stopped her pacing abruptly and just stood there with her back to him. There was nothing but silence as she stood there. Genevieve wanted to shake her head, scream-do anything-but what good would it do? She would still be in this position. She was just trapped. "I just need...you."

When Draco took hold of her from behind, she was too exhausted to pull away. Draco pulled her around to face him and her violet eyes looked straight into his silvery ones. It happened so quickly she had no time to register that they were suddenly hurtling toward one another-or more precisely, that he was nearing her. All she was capable of understanding was the gentle pressure of his lips as they brushed against hers. He was kissing her. And it was the most overwhelming sensation she had ever experienced. Such a simple, innocent kiss and she had never felt anything so powerful in her young life. There were no fireworks, he body didn't burn, and she didn't go weak in the knees. All she could focus on was that one singular sensation and it somehow made everything feel real.

Just as he began to pull away, Genevieve reached up with one hand and curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt, holding him in place. She felt his finger slide through her hair and then she was lost. It was no longer a singular kiss then and she hesitated for only a moment when her legs hit one of the telescope crates. Trying hard not to break away from him, Genevieve pulled herself up onto the crate and curled one arm around his neck and gripped the starched collar of his shirt in her other hand, pulling him as far into her as she could. Would he ever be close enough? His hands couldn't travel over her body fast enough. Though it was more than what she had had of him mere minutes ago, it wasn't nearly enough. She had thought it would be, but if it ended...

Genevieve let out a small cry of protest when his lips left hers and it quickly turned into a groan when they found her neck. She buried her hand in his hair as she braced herself on the crate with her other hand. His lips were on hers once more-and then they were gone. As her vision slowly came back into focus and her ragged breathing began to even out, she watched him warily. The look in his eyes could only be described as crazed. It bordered on mad, really.

It occurred to her that they both must look an absolute sight-he, with his hair sticking up at all odd angles, clothing uncharacteristically wrinkled beyond explanation and her, eyes widened comically with her hand suspended in the air as it grasped at nothing. He let out one long breath and held his hand out to her. She took it without a moment's hesitation, letting him help her down from the crate. He stared at their hands and then looked back up at her with an irritated expression on his face.

"Can you tell me why it took three bloody years for that to happen," he snapped, "can you explain to me why it took the smartest witch in school three years to figure out that she wanted to snog me?"

Now she knew why there had been no fireworks. They weren't supposed to go off until the finale. "Oh, so that's what that was? Just a snog? You are unbelievable, Malfoy-"

"Come off it, MacDuff, you're not as thickheaded as you're acting and you know it," he argued back, taking a step up to her. She had to tilt her head back to glare at him. "Why can't you just admit it? You like me! Say it. I want to hear you say it!"

"I'll say no such thing! You just want to throw it back in my face like the completely arrogant tosser you are!"

"I like you, you idiot," he nearly yelled at her, his exasperation was all too clear. "I like you, Vivvy. I've liked you since my second year! I've wanted to snog you since third! And I started wanting to do a hell of a lot more than snog you not long after that!" He gripped her by her upper arms and shook her lightly. "So, say it! I need to hear you say it!"

Genevieve gazed up at him, feeling as breathless as she sounded. "I like you, too." And that was all it took for him to kiss her again.