Hello, readers!
I am so, so sorry for leaving you all hanging for months. Life has been terribly difficult. BUT I'm back with a new chapter. It's short, but that is completely deliberate. More on that at the end. For now, please do read, enjoy and review this chapter.
Disclaimer: HP is Rowling's. This story is mine.
WILFULLY: CHAPTER 13
Ginny Weasley had made a terrible mistake.
After all the horrible things she had been through in her life, one would think that she'd have learned. Apparently not. And now, everything was ruined.
xx
"You're late," Ginny pointed out as she glared at the idiot who had kept her waiting in the tiny, slightly overcrowded café in Diagon Alley for nearly half an hour.
"Sorry," Neville mumbled as he took off his mostly wet coat and hung it on the back of his chair before taking a seat. "The Floo traffic was horrible."
"And you lost track of time," she wagered a guess.
"And I lost track of time," he admitted sheepishly. "The blokes at the Auror Department had some wild tales to tell."
"I can imagine." Harry used to tell her many of such tales back when they were dating. Ron still shared them, though Ginny had learned treat his words with caution after that one time when he managed to convince her that he had sort of battled a vicious dragon – it had been a sleeping baby dragon, Harry had clarified later on. "Do you miss it?"
"What, being an Auror?"
She nodded. "You were good at it, you know?"
Neville thought for a moment. "It's adventurous work and the pay is great, but I only joined the department because they needed us at the time. I'm happy with Herbology."
A few minutes later, the two friends were sipping hot coffee and nibbling on chocolate chip cookies. "It's everywhere, isn't it?" she asked, nodding at the people in the café, almost all of whom were either reading or discussing the Daily Prophet's top story. She had read it herself earlier that morning, and it had not left her quite at ease.
FRENCH MINISTRY OF MAGIC TARGETS MUGGLE-BORNS IN CONTROVERSIAL NEW ACT
By, Padma Patil
The French Ministry of Magic will monitor the movements and communications of muggle-borns and their families residing in France, announced the Head of Bureau de la Justice Magique in a press conference.
This comes as part of 'Loi sur la Surveillance et la Sécurité' (Surveillance and Security Act), which was passed by a majority of 61 percent in the Ministry last night after a rigorous week-long debate.
"I believe society becomes stronger when we protect our own," said Edmond Lefebvre, Adviser to the French Minister for Magic. "Unfettered magic-muggle relations have led us to disaster, and I believe that the passing of this Act is a big milestone in the creation of a new, better France for the wizarding kind."
The Act, which has come into effect immediately, gives French Aurors the right to detain and question muggle-borns and their immediate families without any warrant. It has also, however, shone a light on the splintering politics within the French Ministry.
"It is an unjust law that was passed today," Abel Derocles, Head of the Bureau des Magicommunications, told the press. "I tried my best to stop it, [but] I failed. Now, the Ministry will violate the privacy of our fellow wizards and witches."
Concerns have also been raised about how this new law will impact the relations between the Ministry and the muggle government, which have been on a decline since the Chaucer case last month.
French Ministry of Magic employee, Alfred Chaucer, his wife and three of their children were found dead in their home in Rouen, with the words "Death to Magical Freaks" painted in blood on their wall. Two muggle men suspected to be involved in the brutal crime were arrested last week in Paris, according to a statement released by the Bureau des Aurors.
No further details regarding the investigation have been released so far, but sources say that France's muggle government has asked for the suspects to be released into their custody and were refused earlier this week.
"The muggle-borns always get a broom with the short stick," Ginny declared angrily. It irked her how after that wretched war, after all the losses – after Fred – people still stuck to their old ways. Had nobody learned that hatred would beget more hatred? "The people in the French Ministry are just using the Chaucer murders as an excuse to further their aristocratic, pureblood agenda."
"Perhaps," Neville said. "But they did have the majority."
"I'm sure they swayed all those people to their side with bribes."
"I'm told it was evidence," he said quietly.
Ginny stilled at that. "Do you know something?"
"Maybe." Neville looked around cautiously, as if he was searching for eavesdroppers in the little café. Then he quickly pulled out his wand and cast a quick Muffliato to provide them with some privacy. "The Chaucer murders were indeed committed by three muggles, but they didn't just randomly stumble upon a wizarding family and decide to slaughter them. It was planned."
Well, that didn't sound good. "How so?"
"Jeremy Chaucer," Neville said. Sixteen-year-old Jeremy Chaucer was the only member of the family who had survived the attack, that too by sheer luck: he had been at Beauxbatons when the murders had taken place. "His best friend at school was a girl named Emily Carre. Muggle-born. Decent family. He went to stay over at her place in Calais during the summer."
"And?"
"At the same time, Emily's cousin, Samuel Carre, was visiting. He's lived on and off with her family for years, kind of like Harry did with the Dursleys. So, Samuel knew all about magic – but I suppose, no one knew that he considered it to be, well, unnatural. Apparently, he told two of his more radical-minded friends everything, and together they tracked Jeremy's home and murdered his entire family."
Ginny was silent for a few moments, utterly horrified. It amazed her always, and not in a good way, how easy it was for certain people to hate – to be motivated by a hatred so pure that it left them with no qualms about taking another life. "How could you possibly know all that?" she asked.
"The blokes at our Auror department have been in touch with their French counterpart," Neville told her. Well, that was probably another reason why he was late.
"Was Samuel arrested?"
"No, he's still at large. But they arrested his friends. I reckon it won't be long before they get him too," Neville said. "They just don't want this story getting out in the public. It is still an ongoing investigation, and they're worried that it will only cause hysteria."
"I reckon they're right," Ginny stated. It wasn't new for her to find out confidential information from the Auror Department – both Harry and Ron had often trusted her with the cases they worked on, and she had sense enough to never share it with anyone else. "When is Luna leaving?" she asked, deciding that it was best to steer onto more neutral topics.
"Tomorrow." Neville replied sourly as he removed the Muffliato charm. "Back to Brazil. Won't even make it back for Christmas or New Year."
She nodded sympathetically. Nevilla and Luna loved each other to bits, but it was becoming rather obvious that the long-distance was taking its toll on both of them. "Maybe you can visit her."
"In the middle of the wilderness?" he asked dubiously.
"It'll be an adventure!"
Neville chuckled half-heartedly. "Maybe. What about you? How is your blondie?"
"I should ask you. You were the one chatting away with him at the wedding yesterday."
"He knows stuff about Herbology. And you did invite him to the wedding and abandon him with us."
"I did not!" she protested. Honestly, the only reason she'd left was to 'escort' Auntie Muriel away, which was a relief considering the bizarre things that woman was saying. Merlin, the humiliation! The thought of that conversation alone caused blood to rush to her cheeks.
Neville chuckled, then reached out and placed his hand on top of hers. "He's not so bad, Ginny."
A wide smile spread on Ginny's face at that. All she wanted was for her family and friends to accept Draco. Her family hadn't; they had made terse peace of-sorts with it, but that peace unpredictable and volatile. That Neville, one of her dearest friends, was supportive of her relationship meant the world to her. "Thank you," she squeezed his hand lightly.
"Though its not for me to say, but I reckon Malfoy's got some issues."
That caused her to frown. "What do you mean?"
"He seemed… zoned out, you know?" He leaned back with a shrug. "I don't know. Maybe it's just stress from work; we all have that."
"Hmm. He's very busy these days," she hummed nonchalantly. The wheels in her brain were whirring, though. She had noticed Draco's behaviour too – how he tensed up, how he escaped into his thoughts, how suddenly his mood changed. She knew him enough to know that it wasn't weariness. Something was bothering him, something big enough to seep through that carefully constructed persona that Draco liked to exude in public.
He had promised that he would tell her. Maybe it was time to find out.
xx
The Malfoys had the most eccentric house-elves.
Draco had once mentioned that his mother's personal house-elf, Effie, not only dressed in bright pink colours but had also asked for a clause to be added to her contract where she would be given a bottle of wine from the Malfoy vineyard every month as part of her salary. Then, there was the grumpy Soodey, who harboured a particular hatred for making, drinking or serving tea because his grandfather had drowned in a cauldron of herbal tea. And now, Yugo – who, it turned out, not only held a particular love for the muggle cinema, but also for cleaning chandeliers.
Ginny had been about to enter Draco's study when Yugo had appeared with a pop, carrying a basket containing an ugly orange feather duster, cotton cleaning wipes, Madame Glossy's Bronze Polish and a spray-bottle of Mrs. Skower's Extra Shine Glass and Crystal Cleaning Potion. He told her that it was the 'Malfoy Manor Chandelier Cleaning Day' – a day he had been looking forward to for two months, which meant that the Manor was generally off-limits to everyone. Except for the library, which Yugo had finished off cleaning early that morning so that 'Master Draco Sir' would have someplace to relax.
The elf then escorted her to said library and shut the door much too eagerly after her. He might have even locked it; she thought she heard a faint click, but she couldn't be sure. Her attention, after all, was focused on the gigantic, two-storey room she was in.
This is what Hermione's wet dreams must look like, she mused.
The library was built in fine mahogany, and the walls were covered in books and scrolls as far as her eyes could see. She was on the upper storey, which was basically a mezzanine. A spiral staircase led down to the main level, where there was a massive roaring hearth, leather armchairs and a mini bar. The coffee table was laden with what appeared to be a stack of office files and freshly cut quills, as if someone was working there.
It was a shame – and also a tad awkward – that it was the first time she had set foot in here. She'd only been to a handful of rooms of the huge Manor in the past few months, now that she thought about it, and that simply won't do. She was going on insist on a tour.
"You will mind your bloody tone, Lukas!"
Ginny started at the angry voice. Taken as she had been with the room, she hadn't even noticed that her boyfriend was sitting in one of the armchairs, glaring at a very familiar looking Frenchman.
"Only if Narcissa mindz her own business!" Lukas Lefebvre, Draco's distant cousin, shot back as he poured himself a dram at the mini bar. She remembered him, of course. "I waz only hanging out with my friend, pour l'amour de Merlin!"
"If it was indeed something as innocent as that, then you have no reason to be so angry." Draco pointed out.
"Tante Coline will not get off my back, and it iz because of your mother."
"My mother and I couldn't care less about what sort of company you keep, I assure you."
Ginny took a hesitant step back. This was clearly a family quarrel and she had no business eavesdropping. As silently as she could, she tried the door – only to find it locked. Yugo, that little chandelier-cleaning shit!
The conversation between the men went on downstairs. Draco spoke, his voice no longer angry but rather filled with the casual, condescending tone that Malfoys were masters of. "Though for the sake of the respect I have for your father's work, I would ask you to be wary of your companions."
Something in those words – she did not quite know what – made her pause, and without even meaning to, she became an incognito observer to whatever it was that was going on between the two men.
Lukas snorted in disdain. "Iz that so?"
Draco picked up a of the Daily Prophet from the coffee table and waved it lightly. "You are aware of the main story, I presume?" he asked as he dropped the newspaper back with a small thump. "Any misstep on your part, any affiliations with the wrong crowd, will undo what Edmond has achieved."
"Achieved?" Lukas asked incredulously. "A family of wizard-kind is dead and all mon père has done is furthered his political motives." He shifted on his feet, fingers bunched into a fist, as if he wanted to hit something – or someone. "He should have had those – those fils de putes killed and their bodies hung in the street for everyone to see."
"And what, exactly, would that rather violent display accomplish?"
"It would have sent a clear message to our enemiez. Instead, my father haz passed a law!" He downed the contents of his glass and slammed it onto the bar top, his expression one of utter disgust.
"He was right to do so," Draco stated matter-of-factly. "The Act will prevent further atrocities. It's a shame that no one in Britain has the spine to take a step such as this."
Ah. It clicked. It was the admiration in Draco's voice for Edmond Lefebvre that had made her paused earlier. And that realisation caused Ginny to frown.
It was no secret that the Malfoys had been one of the frontrunners of the 'pureblood-first' movements in Britain's wizarding society. Their support of Voldemort during the war alone spoke volumes of what Lucius Malfoy thought of muggles and muggle-borns.
But that was before.
Now, Draco was trying to rebuild the Malfoy name into something much more liberal. She knew that he conducted business with muggles, his charity worked towards the rehabilitation of witches and wizards haunted by the war, most of which were, let's face it, muggle-borns, and not once had she witnessed him say or do something that could be construed as discrimination. She would never have dated him for these months had he been the same blood-supremacist bully that he had once been at Hogwarts.
Why, then, was he expressing his approval for a law so heinous?
"You are talking about dabbing medicine onto the festered wound, Lukas," Draco said. "Your father is working on ripping the infection out root and stem."
Lukas eyed him for a long moment, then shook his head. "Crabbe waz right. You are much more shrewd than you let on."
"I should be flattered, to be the topic of your and Crabbe's conversations."
"I don't know if you should."
"Oh?"
"He told me you are a lion in sheep's clothing. So, it iz little wonder that my father likes you so." Lukas sauntered over to the fireplace and reached for the pot containing the floo powder. "Stay out of my personal life, mon cher cousin. Your mother, too. Au revoir." And in a flash of green flames, he was gone.
The room fell silent after the Frenchman's departure, and Ginny, baffled as she was with what she had just witnessed, wondered if she should simply leave or make her presence known when–
"You don't have to hide anymore," Draco said, then glanced up at her.
"I wasn't hiding," she told him, hating how her voice sounded so defensive even to her own ears.
"No, only eavesdropping," he stated, an amused smirk on his lips. "This is becoming a habit of yours, my sweet."
He appeared to be calm, casual, careless in the way that he usually was when he spoke to her now, as if everything was normal and was wrong whatsoever. Maybe it wasn't for him, but something certainly felt very wrong to her, and she decided to confront it. Spending hours pondering over it wouldn't get her anywhere; it was better to face a problem than to speculate about it anyway. So, she made her way down the stairs to him. "Did you mean the things you said to him?" she asked. "About the French law."
"I take it you're not a fan."
"Don't tell me you are," she said firmly, and a hint of a frown appeared on his face, as if he was realising that this was indeed a serious conversation. "They're going to trample on the civil liberties of muggle-borns."
He stood up with a tired sigh. "I am not going to discuss politics with you, Ginevra."
This wasn't new, she realised with a jolt. Ever since they had started seeing each other, whenever they got into the vicinity of a conversation about politics or beliefs, he tended to state flat out, like he just did, that he was not interested in talking. She had been alright with it; their relationship certainly didn't revolve around what was going on in the wizarding world – but she couldn't allow this to pass, not now. So, she stepped in his way. "No."
"Yes." Draco's icy eyes met hers and all was still for a moment. Then, he continued matter-of-factly, "Yes, I meant what I said to Lukas. Things are much worse in France than the papers depict–"
"You mean the wizard-hating cousin who killed the Chaucers?" She noticed the bewilderment that flashed in his eyes, and explained, "I know people in the Auror department." She assumed that either Lukas or Edmond must have told him about the case.
"Then you understand my stance on the matter."
"No, I don't." Ginny was disappointed; no other word could sum up her feelings. She had thought better of him, expected more of him, and she was realising that she had been terribly wrong. He was still the snide, muggle-born-hating bully that he had been back at Hogwarts. "After everything, after the war, how could you still be so prejudiced?"
He snorted incredulously. "How am I being prejudiced?"
"You are."
"Better than being a hypocrite, I suppose," Draco muttered pointedly.
She blanched. "Excuse me?"
"Oh, come on, Ginevra! Do you honestly think that you and your friends are so noble that you've never discriminated against anyone? You have mistrusted Slytherins since the get go, and it has only become worse since the war ended."
"And your solution is to fight intolerance with more intolerance?" Ginny demanded. Her disappointment in him was giving way to anger, boiling through her veins, and all she wanted to do now was to throttle him.
"I could ask you the same thing," he shot back. "The Malfoys are an ancient, pureblood family that have been one of the building blocks of the wizarding community in Britain. And look we're treated."
She blinked in disbelief. "I'm sorry, did you just say that?"
"I may no longer have the right to publicise my opinions, but I am entitled to hold my opinions. And I shall hold them. If you don't like that, then perhaps you can try and convince your ex-boyfriend to have a Dementor's Kiss arranged for me," he said in a calm voice, as if he had spent ages thinking about these matters and was absolutely certain about the conclusions he had reached. And that only made this situation worse. Passing prejudice was bad enough, but well-thought one was even worse. "My family deserves the recognition for the centuries of service it has given–"
"Your family's blood-supremacist ideology is what allowed Voldemort to do what he did." Dear Merlin. He had just said that. And she was so utterly furious. "And you don't get to play the victim, Draco, you're a bloody Death Eater!"
There. She said it.
For a moment he looked like he'd been struck, then a shadow fell over his face – an inscrutable mask that she could not have pierced even if she wanted to. He was angry, that much she could tell, but it was a fury that she had never witnessed before. While her infamous Weasley temper was wild and hot and fire, his seemed to be the exact opposite. He had stilled, his blue-grey eyes boring into her – the eyes of a stranger – and for the first time in a long time, Ginny felt a tinge of fear.
He could hurt her. And her instincts told her that he was going to. Her fingers inched towards her pocket, where her wand lay, ready to face his wrath.
It didn't come, though. Instead, he spoke in a low, icy voice. "Get out. Now."
And without a second thought, without even glancing backwards, she did exactly that.
xx
Ginny Weasley had made a terrible mistake.
All these months of dating Draco, and she didn't realise that he was still a horrible human being. Had he hidden his true thoughts so well, or had she simply been blind to it? Swept off her feet like a silly little school girl with a crush on a boy.
Damn it.
Well, it didn't matter anymore. She was walking away from him. She was done. It was over.
She only wished that it didn't hurt so much.
This chapter needed to be short, for the story's sake, but the ones that follow will be quite a ride - I have the next 5 chapters planned in detailed, and I've already started writing the next one so hopefully, if all goes well, the next update won't take too long.
Thank you so much for reading, and please do leave a review. Your feedback means the world to me!
Until next time. Cheers x.