Chapter 3- True Colours

*****Ginny*****

Ginny started cleaning again with the others, on the condition that they not talk at all about the Malfoys. Because there wasn't anything more interesting to do than clean or homework, and she had finished her homework well enough ages ago. She did find herself staring at the Black tapestry more than usual. She didn't even want to know what the Order was talking about anymore, because too often, it was probably about her- when really they should just be worrying about Tom.

"Hey, kid," Sirius greeted cautiously, two days before Ginny was supposed to have tea at Malfoy Manor. No one had told her yet if she was allowed to go, or if they'd be trying to stop her, which they easily could.

She had been thinking that having Tonks and Sirius as family would be pretty cool. And people seemed to like Tonks's parents too. Did they know about Sirius being… not a murderer?

"Hey, Sirius," Ginny started impulsively. "Can you tell me what Narcissa was like when you knew her? And please try really hard to say something positive?" She asked. Maybe begged.

Sirius looked uncomfortable. "She was… never the worst. We just didn't get along well but- never really fought. She was a peacekeeper, I guess. She was close to both Andromeda and Bellatrix, which I would have thought was impossible, until the family kicked Dromeda out.

"And she… took her arranged marriage pretty well?" Ginny asked.

"It was what the family wanted," Sirius shrugged. "And she'd just seen Dromeda chucked out of the family for not wanting to marry the Malfoy git already, so she had some extra incentive."

"Oh, I didn't know that. I thought it was because she married a muggleborn."

"Well, it was, I guess. She probably could have said no to Malfoy, but she said no to too many, and then they found out it was because she was already taken up with Ted, a Hufflepuff muggleborn. They wanted one of the girls to marry me for a bit, to keep it all in the family, for all that we were first cousins."

"Did you have an arranged marriage you ran away from too?" Ginny asked, even though it was pretty personal. But then again, everyone knew way too much about her personal life already.

"Not really. I would have tried eventually. But I ran away when I was just sixteen, and they don't always push their sons that early. And no one in their high society would have wanted me, because I did everything I could to look unfit for it, the Gryffindor troublemaker. Probably why they thought about quietly marrying me to a cousin."

"Too bad the Gryffindor troublemaker part wouldn't work for me," Ginny sighed and tossed Buckbeak another fish, because the hippogriff looked like he was getting antsy.

"Well, you could look at it as you can be as contrary and difficult for them as you want, and they'll still have to keep you," Sirius pointed out with a sort of sad smile.

"I'll think about it, thanks, Sirius," Ginny said.

Sirius nodded and wandered off, even though it was his house, because he must have figured that Ginny would rather be alone.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked later that evening. "I have absolutely nothing I can wear to tea. I thought about my Yule Ball dress, but it already doesn't fit, and it looks so childish anyway," Ginny complained.

"You could wear mine?" Hermione offered hesitantly. Ginny hadn't really even expected Hermione to have her dress robes with her. It was more like just a dress than robes, really, the sleeves being see through and only down to her elbow.

Ginny tried the dress on.

It was beautiful, and fit well, though a little long. It looked more mature than anything Ginny owned. The periwinkle blue even looked good with Ginny's hair.

"Malfoy will probably remember you wearing it," Ginny pointed out, still looking at herself in the mirror.

"I would highly doubt that."

"Of course he would. You looked hot. Everyone noticed. Do you think we could charm the colour different? The girls in my year do it all the time," Ginny said.

"Ginny, we can't use magic in the summer, especially not for a dress," Hermione warned.

"We'll get someone else to do it," Ginny brushed off. "Maybe Tonks. And she can change it right back afterwards. It won't ruin anything, I promise. What colour do you think would look good- besides this one?" She asked.

"Redheads look good in cool colours, purple, blue, and green," Hermione spouted. "I unfortunately listen to the other girls in my year too much. They were discussing Hannah Abbott, but the same should apply," Hermione shrugged.

"So… it's already a bluish purple, so I'd guess green, but is that too Slytherin?" She asked.

"Maybe a lighter, mint green?" Hermione suggested. "I- am not a fan of Draco Malfoy anymore than anyone else but… I'm sure he's just as opposed to this as you are, and it might be a sort of peace offering? You said he didn't say anything at lunch?" Hermione asked. Hermione Granger, gossiping with her about boys- well, one boy.

"Not except for ordering," Ginny said.

"That's really unlike him," Hermione pointed out.

Tonks wasn't around, and Ginny found George first. "George, you know you're my favourite brother, right?" Ginny started.

George snorted, "No, Bill is," he pointed out.

"Well fine, you're second. Can you charm this dress a mint green for me? And shorter, so it's just above my knees," Ginny added.

George looked at her like she'd grown a second head- which would probably be his next prank project.

"You think I'm going to help you wear a short little green dress to impress Malfoy? Who are you and what have you done with Ginny?" George demanded.

"Oy, what?" Came Fred's voice, because of course Fred was nearby. Of course everyone trapped in the whole house was close by.

"Ginny wants a short little green dress to go see Malfoy," George half-shouted.

"Shut-up," Ginny scolded. "Not short, knee length. Unless you think my knees are too sexy to show a glimpse of," Ginny said, hiking the dress above her knees, from where it currently pooled slightly on the floor. "And if you could shorten the sleeves too," she added.

Fred frowned, and drew his wand. Soon, the dress was green, but the sleeves were solid and down to her wrists, the neckline was higher, and even more cloth collected at her feet.

"You know, that actually looks quite good," Hermione said. "And nothing like my dress," she said.

"Fine, but can you at least let me walk in it?" Ginny asked.

Fred made the dress robe just barely skim the floor, still frowning.

"I would have let you keep the sleeves," George pointed out in a mock huff.

"And that's why you're my second favourite brother," Ginny said, giggling. Ugh, she was giggling. It had to be the dress. She was taking this really seriously, really, she was…

*****Ginny*****

Ginny had asked Hermione to read the stupid contract too, just to make sure she hadn't missed anything.

'…with the aim of continuing the Malfoy line..." was a troubling line… no pun intended. Ugh, she was going crazy from being locked up in this house! But did it mean that she definitely had to have sex with Draco once they were married? What if they adopted someone else's kid- that was Hermione's suggestion not hers- Ginny wasn't sure if that was really done in the wizarding world, but they'd have to look into it. There was no time frame or anything over that, like there was with the marriage itself so… she would try not to worry about it. She could probably just ignore it until she was too old to have children, because there was no real instructions or punishment there. Probably. Except then she couldn't have children.

And their first meeting hadn't gone that badly.

Professor Dumbledore had given her the copy of the contract himself on a visit to the house.

"Here you go, my dear," he had said. "I wanted to thank you for your maturity in this manner. I'm sure you and young Mr. Malfoy will find that you have quite a lot in common."

Yeah, what they had in common was mostly that they were being forced to marry someone against their wishes.

And that seemed like a weird starting place for bonding…

Though he was not ugly when he was quiet. He had nice eyes, at least. Ginny had thought they were blue before, but really, they were more grey.

Maybe when they were older, it wouldn't be totally repulsive to… have sex. Even if they didn't like each other. When they were older, definitely not now.

Though the stupid contract had lots of other things to say. Neither of them could have any romantic or sexual interaction with anyone 'other than their betrothed'.

Other than their betrothed… so her great great whatever grandfather was totally fine with her having sex with Draco Malfoy tomorrow, so long as she never snogged Dean Thomas. Or maybe even never held hands with or hugged another boy that wasn't in her family ever.

Great.

Maybe that was something they could talk about over tea. Not.

*****Draco*****

She was wearing green.

And if Draco hadn't already been expecting her to be wearing Granger's dress from the Yule Ball, he wouldn't have noticed that it was the same material and basic structure. But she looked… different.

She maybe didn't look like a penniless Weasley. Except she still had bright orange-red hair and too many freckles on her face. And he had that terrible, terribly distracting thought of wondering where else she had freckles, because he'd find out eventually.

Freckles came from too much time outside, right? So then… she probably didn't have them everywhere…

Bad, bad thought.

The long-sleeved, floor-length, high-necked dress covered anything interesting. It hadn't covered nearly so much with Granger. Had Weasley wanted to be that sure that he couldn't see anything? Not that he wanted to. She'd essentially turned them into more traditional dress robes, though they did show her shape which was… developed for her age, wasn't it? More bad thoughts. Really, green was a much better colour for her than anything any of the Weasleys ever wore.

"Did you know it's my birthday today?" Draco's father asked. Draco hadn't really expected that to come up. They would have dinner this evening but… didn't do anything else in particular to celebrate the day. Draco had been informed at a young age that adults didn't celebrate such things.

"Happy Birthday, sir," Weaslette said.

"My thirty-ninth birthday," he added. Ginny's eyes went wide- why? "You are a smart girl. Interesting how our discussions would be different right now if I hadn't married so- relatively young in life. Men my age get married all the time. And we would have been just within the twenty-five year mark," he said.

That was… really weird to talk about wasn't it? Draco looked around, and his mother's lips were pursed, but she hadn't said anything in a while. It wasn't going at all like lunch had in public.

"I say that I married young, it wasn't so young really, when you consider that you were nearly married off at fourteen. Not that I think you would have any problems, even now, with those hips of yours. It must be the Prewett blood, hips for birthing, breasts for nursing," he said.

What the hell?

Draco's mother cleared her throat and called for tea.

"Ginevra dear, we are very glad that you and Draco already know each other, and you have years to get to know each other better," she said soothingly. Ginevra. Draco had only heard Professor McGonagall say that name once, during the sorting. It was sort of nice.

But his mother spoke as if her own husband, Draco's father hadn't been… saying that… Had it been some sort of intimidation, power play? Surely the teenage witch not allowed to use magic was in enough of a weakened position here, in their home? It was natural for Draco's father to be angry that he came sort of close to being married to the girl. But Draco was the one actually stuck in this, not him.

"You wouldn't know it now, but Molly Prewett had a nice figure herself, even after the first pregnancies, until she had twins," Draco's father said over tea. "Some would even say that we should consider it a lucky match, to have the family joined with such successful breeders. And even pureblood," he said.

Ginny Weasley jumped to her feet, teeth gritting.

"The loo, please," she said, directing it at Draco's mother.

"Of course, dear," she said. "Draco, please direct your guest to your rooms upstairs," she said, looking at Draco's father.

That was not discrete by his mother's standards. So she and his father could talk- or fight- without Draco and… Ginny there.

"Follow me," Draco said, leading her away and up the stairs in front of him.

She did… fill out the dress more than Granger had, and Granger was older, the oldest in their year actually.

Draco moved to walk ahead of her again at the top of the stairs, but she caught his wrist and held on. What?

"I want to go home, Draco," the girl whispered.

"What?" Draco hissed. Though… it wasn't like he didn't know why. Really, it was only surprising that she was using his first name.

*****Ginny*****

How could he not realize? Good. Because now she was angry at him, and that left less room to be scared. "Because your father's scaring me, and he's a bloody Death Eater," she said, the curse not seeming strong enough. "I don't know what I'm even doing here. I'll just become a muggle," she said, trying to prevent her tears.

Draco gripped her wrist tightly… the one that had been holding him until she let go now. Of course he wouldn't want her to give up so soon, because he wouldn't want to become a muggle either- and the pain and childlessness stuff. What he said instead surprised her, "My father was not a Death Eater. Not really. It was a misunderstanding and before either of us were even born. And besides, you're a pureblood." he said, though he looked scared, younger than Ginny seen him.

"He's a Death Eater, Draco," Ginny said, very unsure of what to say in the middle of Malfoy Manor, glad in spite of herself that they were in some private room- Draco's rooms, she reminded herself. Because he had more than one, and this was just a boring, sitting room or something. "Harry saw him when he saw T- You-Know-Who come back," Ginny said calmly, trying to breathe. To not panic.

"That didn't happen," Draco spat. "Of course you would believe Potter. Your little boyfriend. I'm sure you're sorry that he isn't stuck with you for the rest of his life instead of me. You're such a child!"

Ginny wasn't even sure what had come over her before she slapped Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, right in the face.

"My uncles were purebloods, and Death Eaters killed them. And I don't have a boyfriend, but I'd rather marry anyone else at Hogwarts that you! And I haven't been a child since I was eleven years old and your father slipped me that diary and sent me to hell!" Ginny almost screamed, completely ignoring her surroundings. To her shame, she could feel tears escape. She had been doing so well.

"Diary?" Draco asked. Ginny looked up and saw the confused and irritated looking boy, rubbing his cheek, though he didn't say anything about it. At least he wasn't grabbing her anymore. "Why would my father give you a diary?"

Ginny couldn't stop the little fit of laughter. She hoped she wasn't cracking up. "You know nothing. You really don't," she laughed.

"What do you mean?!" Draco demanded, though his voice a hiss and herding her from the room they were in to the connecting room, that she realized was his bedroom. Ginny didn't even protest when he dragged her by the hand, a liberty she surely should have objected to. She was trying to fight off the numbness, the cold unfeeling of the chamber. All the things she did. All the things she could have done. How weak she had been. How everything else wasn't even real. She wasn't strong. She was a weak slave, pawn of Tom. There wasn't enough air in the room. She could never be forgiven.

"Weasley? Weasley? What the hell am I supposed to do? Ginny?" hissed the boy. He sounded almost as scared as she felt, remembering that again.

"Your second year," Ginny said in a shaky voice, not even thinking about why she was saying this to Draco Malfoy. "I was possessed by Tom Marvolo Riddle through an enchanted diary laced with his memories. I was forced to open the Chamber of Secrets. All of those people, my friends who could have died- every single person in the castle was at risk. And then I went down there, into the Chamber to die myself. To die so that he could live again. He was beautiful. I see how he could get people to follow him. So sad and beautiful, and saying all the right things. Until he tries to kill you. He told me who he was when I couldn't resist anymore. I left that part out when I told the story. I knew who he was at the end, before I came down there to die. But I couldn't do anything. I was too weak," she whispered. Compelled, she grabbed a quill from Draco's desk and wrote on the nearest parchment, "Tom Marvolo Riddle. I am Lord Voldemort," even drawing lines connecting the letters. She had written it down obsessively often enough to not even hesitate. It was easier to write than it was to say.

"And now he's back," she said, looking up, finding Draco several paces backed away. "And your father's one of his followers, one of his highest up followers I think. Because that diary must have been valuable to Tom, and he entrusted it with your father. But even being highly ranked doesn't mean anything. I know how Tom thinks. He lived in my head for a year. He would kill any one of them, including your father, including you, without even feeling guilt for a moment," she said, staring at the scared boy right in the eyes.

"If you want some more proof, I heard that Harry handed your father the diary back at the end, and he handed it to his house elf, but it had a sock inside, so Harry got the elf set free," Ginny whispered, the only happy part of the story, and she wasn't even there for it.

"Dobby was gone after my second year," Draco whispered. "Father said he was dead." His features held the emotions of fear, confirmation of her story with this detail. "Is my mother?" Draco mumbled after a moment.

"Huh?" Ginny asked, the air starting to return to the room.

"Is my mother a Death Eater too?" Draco asked, looking lost, grey eyes bigger than Ginny remembered. She actually felt sorry for Draco Malfoy.

"I don't think so. No. Or at least she wasn't there that night. But the fathers of Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott were," she said, slowly.

Draco actually nodded. "My aunt was. I know that. She's in Azkaban. I looked up some of the stuff she did one time. She- she attacked Longbottom's parents and made them crazy even though they were purebloods," he said shakily.

Ginny nodded, tears in her eyes. Neville had told her that he was going to go visit his parents at St. Mungo's over the holidays while they were at the ball together. That seemed like a lifetime away from standing in this frightening house, floors away from a man that she still felt had ruined her life, looking at the boy she was supposed to marry or lose her magic and never have children.

"Let's get you out. There's a floo in my sitting room," Draco said, actually leading her by the hand again, an action that they would have found equally repulsive a week ago.

Ginny stared at her scuffed shoes, fidgeting. "Will you be in trouble if I leave without being proper? It's bad manners."

"I'll blame you, say you dashed off while I was in the loo and I heard you use the floo," Draco explained.

Ginny actually smiled, though she didn't look up.

"Can I write to you?" Malfoy asked quietly. "I think- we agree that seeing each other in person isn't a good idea. But writing. I might need to know more things when I think of them. Assuming I believe you," he added frowning.

"Well, my mail is searched going in and out," Ginny admitted. "But so long as you know that, yeah."

"Okay. You'd better go, before Mother checks in on us. I probably wasn't supposed to close the door," Draco explained, throwing floo powder into the fireplace and nudging her towards the green flames.

"Dobby works at Hogwarts now, if you care. He's stayed free and works for wages actually," Ginny told him quickly before stepping into the magically enhanced fire. "The Burrow," Ginny muttered, and watched as Draco swirled away from her sight. One of her family would be waiting again to take her back to Grimmauld Place. She would never ever ever go to Malfoy Manor again. Lucius Malfoy was terrible. But maybe Draco wasn't the worst person in the world.

*****Draco*****

Draco Malfoy stared at the flames as they turned back to orange. What the girl had said made sense. His father had been gone more than usual this summer, and they had hardly spoken at all. His mother had been crying more, he knew, though she never let him see it. His parents had barely spoken to each other either. He wondered what that would mean for him, if he would be expected to join when he came of age. He'd always sympathized and held with the pureblood supremacy ideals and knew them to be true, regardless of whatever Granger's ability to outscore any pureblood insinuated, but he had never planned on taking an active role. And now he was supposed to marry a girl who spends large amounts of time around Harry Potter. His life was only going to get more complicated.

You-Know-Who was back, but Draco was barely fifteen. Surely no one would expect him to do anything for either side any time soon? He would, of course, be on the same side as his father if it came to it. It wasn't like he would be able to do anything else. But could he really do things like his aunt, and doubtless his father as well had done? To hurt- to torture- someone like Granger, or even Ginny, being a blood traitor- except he couldn't because of the contract. Someone had killed her uncles, the Prewetts, he remembered, from genealogies. That was an old pureblood line that Death Eaters had wiped out by killing the last sons who bore the name. That wasn't what the lessons from his childhood had been about. If purebloods were better, why would they be casualties as well? The Longbottoms were purebloods too. And why was damned Granger so good at everything if muggleborns were lower than the rest of them? Could her muggle parents be intelligent as well? The thought of intelligent muggles had never occurred to him in all his fifteen years.