Chapter 15- Poison

*****Ginny*****

Sitting at tables designated by house was imbecilic. As if they didn't spend enough time together already. Students rarely knew anyone well from other houses, even those they occasionally shared classes with. And Draco hadn't seemed to have a real conversation with anyone at a meal in days. Not that the Slytherins in his year were people Ginny wanted Draco to be friends with… Crabbe and Goyle were a definite no, and Nott seemed really quiet. And Blaize Zabini was irritating to be around, she'd learned from the first "Slug Club" and she'd heard nothing positive about Pansy Parkinson ever… but there were probably some other decent Slytherins somewhere. She didn't know anything about the other girls in Draco's year, and there were a few of them. Gryffindors and Slytherins in her own year mostly just stayed away from each other. Slytherin was an insular house. But, Ginny probably wouldn't know anyone outside of her year well either, if it hadn't been for her brothers and the DA. And quidditch, but the Slytherins on the quidditch team didn't seem like the nicest people either.

"Get Poppy," Professor McGonagall shrieked.

Ginny whipped her head around to the Head Table.

Professor Dumbledore was bent over, hand at his throat. His goblet was lying spilled on the table. Was he choking?

Hagrid ran from the room in the proper direction. Flitwick, conjured a Patronus that he started talking to, and that would get to her faster. "Severus, do something," McGonagall ordered next, though the… enigmatic man was already examining their headmaster. "Prefects, clear the hall!" she gave yet another order, one that even Hermione Granger looked mutinous at following.

But they all left the hall, Dumbledore making rasping sounds, and Snape doing something over him.

"Someone's actually trying to kill Dumbledore," Ron said in astonishment. Ginny followed the three of them to their normal places by the fire. Because, if anyone knew anything, it was Harry, who talked with Dumbledore the most. And, if anyone could figure it out without much information to go on, it was Hermione.

"That… does seem likely," Hermione acknowledged.

"There's a Death Eater in Hogwarts, maybe just Snape. If he can't fix him, it's him," Harry said, standing to pace again.

Dumbledore was poisoned, and he was old. He might not make it no matter what any wizard, or any witch did.

"Professor Dumbledore trusts Professor Snape, and we have to believe that he has good reason, or we don't trust Professor Dumbledore at all," Hermione said, and it wasn't the first or the dozenth time she had said something like it.

"Well, sometimes I don't really trust him either," Harry threw up his hands. "Oh, I know Dumbledore's good and all, but he doesn't tell anyone anything. He just asks for things that are really difficult, and doesn't give aalmost any advice. When he could just say some things plainly and save everyone the trouble."

"Such as?" Ginny pressed quietly. Harry looked at her, shocked, probably realizing she was there for the first time. Harry had been meeting with Dumbledore, for Occlumency lessons, but it sounded like they contained more than just that. Maybe they weren't even Occlumency lessons at all.

"Like- like in my first year, after I woke up after the Philosopher's Stone, he basically said that he knew I'd go after it. But he could have just told me what was really going on. He must have known it was Quirrell, because Snape did, and Dumbledore could have just taken care of it," Harry ranted. Yes, the Headmaster should have confided everything about an incredibly valuable artifact to an eleven-year-old… but he could have handled it himself if he'd really known.

Though surely he could have found grounds to fire Quirrell, though maybe he preferred to keep the man in sight- and around hundreds of children. There were admittedly questionable decisions involved.

"Harry, just bringing that up shows an example of Professor Snape being loyal to Professor Dumbledore, and yet you persist in mistrusting him despite all evidence," Hermione reiterated.

Ron was silent. Ginny had noticed that the older he got, the less Ron talked in arguments when he didn't think it was really important- unless he was angry enough to do it anyway. It was practically wisdom, considering the child he'd been. So, here, Ron agreed with either Harry or Hermione, but didn't want to fight with the other about it. Which resulted in both of them being somewhat annoyed at him, but it could be worse in a fight amongst Gryffindors.

"If it's not Snape, it's got to be one of the older Slytherins. Like Malfoy, because we know his father would want it," Harry rattled off. Ginny gritted her teeth. She had tried to adopt a policy of ignoring when one of the 'boys,' Harry or Draco, insulted the other. She hadn't even mentioned the damn potions book to Draco, because it wasn't her business or his. But calling Draco a Death Eater wasn't just a stupid insult. The world cared about what Harry Potter thought these days, and Draco didn't need a more difficult life.

"Draco's not a Death Eater," was all Ginny was going to say about it.

Harry looked skeptical, like she was a child, when she was barely a year younger than he was. "Well, maybe he didn't have much of a choice," Harry at least acknowledged. "They could have threatened him or his family."

"Draco's my boyfriend," Ginny said more firmly. "I'd notice if he suddenly had a Dark Mark on his arm. It wasn't a fool proof argument- someone could follow Tom without getting the Mark, though she didn't think they'd have been tasked with killing Dumbledore without it.

"His father kept his hidden for at least sixteen years," Harry said, thinking he was so clever. "Wizards' robes have long sleeves, and Malfoy wears them, even on Sundays," Harry said. Because he'd noticed Draco's fashion choices. Uniforms were generally treated as optional on days without classes, but most purebloods didn't own anything besides robes. Harry usually wore robes too, but Ginny knew what Harry's muggle clothes looked like, and had an idea of why he didn't have many that fit him well. And that sympathy wasn't helping when she was irritated with him. Though it wasn't as if the boy didn't have the money to buy whatever clothes he wanted.

"From most people. Narcissa would have seen it and known. Trust me, I know he's not a Death Eater. He hasn't even seen his father in over a year. He only saw his mother once over the summer, and Tonks was there too," Ginny hissed, with as few personal details as she thought she could while still being convincing.

"Woah, woah. You are not his wife. What are you doing seeing… anything under Malfoy's robes, Ginny?" Ron demanded. Because fighting with family was way easier than fighting with Harry or Hermione. Family would love you back and forgive you no matter what. Though Percy was really testing that.

"Oh, grow up," Ginny shot back, which didn't sound as mature as she had envisioned. "I said I'd seen his arms, not his genitals," she said for shock value. "Though, that is none of your business," which seemed to be her new favourite line.

What Harry did was none of her business. What she did was none of anyone's business, except sometimes Draco's. Her favourite phrase these days. Ron was sputtering, Harry had turned around entirely, so she couldn't see his face, and Hermione was more surprised than Ginny had ever seen her. It was all in the eyes. And maybe Ginny would talk to Hermione about it later.

"But if you trust me, take my word that Draco isn't and would never be a Death Eater. It might be one of the other Slytherins with a Death Eater parent, or it could be anyone else in the castle- or someone who could have access with the kitchens without suspicion. Narrow thinking is what persecutes the Snapes and misses the Quirrells. And the Pettigrews. And beyond that, every evil person isn't a Death Eater, like Lockheart, or Umbridge," Ginny formulated very logically.

"So yeah, we know nothing. What good does knowing nothing do us?" Harry grumbled.

"It's an honest, unclouded starting point," Ginny said.

"You think you're unclouded?" Harry dared. Even Ron darted eyed towards him.

"No, I don't. But thank you for listening to my experience and viewpoint," she said, walking towards the portrait hole and not looking back. As if Harry had actually listened. But, maybe he would now. And no one was going to find out anything while hiding in their common rooms. If it had been a Slytherin's fault, Draco might have a better guess.

*****Draco*****

What would happen to the school if Albus Dumbledore died? What would happen to everyone who stood against Tom Riddle? Draco had never had reason to like the man before, but it had been worse without him, when Umbridge threatened torture on students.

"Dobby!" Draco called, deciding that an elf might know what had happened in the kitchens.

The elf appeared before Draco instantly.

"Dobby, what's happening in the kitchens?" Draco asked.

"Dobby must return to be preparing supper!" the elf declared.

"Dobby, that already happened. We already ate," Draco said slowly. Though, Draco could eat more food, he had lost his appetite for anything prepared in the kitchens.

"Dobby… made dinner?" the elf asked, suddenly looking scared. "Poison," he whispered, and charged at the nearest wall before Draco could stop him.

"Dobby, Dobby, Dobby!" Draco called repeatedly. The elf had bashed his overly large head three times before Draco had arms wrapped around the elf and dragged him away. "Dobby, someone must have done something to you. What happened?" Draco asked, heart racing as he knelt, essentially hugging the creature. It would look strange if someone happened upon that classroom.

"Dobby poison!" the elf wailed, and then gasped, "Master Dumbledore!"

"You don't have a master, right?" Draco tried. "You're a free elf?"

"Dobby is a baaad free elf. Dumbledore is being almost Dobby's master."

"It can't be your fault. Do you remember who hexed you, Dobby? Did you see him? Or her?" Draco added.

"Dobby doesn't know. Dobby baaad elf," the poor creature whined.

"Do you know anything else, can you think of anything else? What kind of poison was it?" Draco just thought.

"Dobby doesn't know. It was there. Dobby doesn't know!"

"The container, do you still have it? Can you get it?" Draco asked. Because he was now trying to save a man that… hadn't really ever done anything to directly hurt Draco. Dumbledore was probably in some way responsible for Draco having a safe summer. He would have agreed to it at least. And, as tense as the Slytherin dormitory was, Draco was not a Death Eater.

"No! No, gone!" Dobby shrieked. "Bad Dobby, bad Dobby!"

"Dobby, I want you to go to Come and Go Room and not leave unless I call you, or Albus Dumbledore does himself," Draco said. "Or it's been more than a day and you need something the room can't give you," Draco added, because it occurred to him that if Draco was poisoned himself, he wouldn't want the elf to suffer worse- it was a strangely selfless thought. "Can you do that for me, Dobby?"

"Why is Little Master asking Dobby this?" Dobby asked, even more distressed.

"Because I want to help you, Dobby," he said. Which was the wrong thing to say based on the sobbing. "Dobby, Dobby, quiet!" Draco pleaded. "Do it for me. Everyone knows you were my family's elf, so they will think that I made you do it," Draco reasoned- which he really should have considered earlier.

That had the elf standing straight, "Little Master would never!" he objected.

"That's right, I wouldn't do that to you, but can you go hide for me?" he asked. "And you can't hurt yourself further, because I might need your help," Draco commanded. When it was to protect Draco, the house elf nodded vigorously on his spindly little neck and was gone.

Draco allowed himself two peaceful breaths before striding towards the Hospital Wing. He didn't know any other elves to call them to get him there faster, and he needed the time to collect his thoughts. Even if he had no real information, he couldn't say nothing if it could help the Headmaster- and therefore Dobby. The matron had been rather accepting of him the previous term.

Draco was faintly surprised at his relief at seeing the Head of Gryffindor looking irritated outside of the ward. Irritated meant not in mourning, and treatment was ongoing. The sometimes fierce matron must have removed McGonagall from the room. Hagrid stood a bit back as well, looking too large, as always, to belong inside, except in the Great Hall.

McGonagall had been honest with Draco when Mr. Weasley had been attacked.

"I need to speak with you privately," Draco said to the older witch. He knew nothing to tell the Matron, he had decided. She would have long ago reasoned that the food was poisoned, and he knew nothing more. Though there were so many other questions he should have asked of the elf, he couldn't now until he was assured of Dobby's safety. He didn't think that these people would be too harsh on an unwitting elf, but these were witches and wizards without their leader.

"I am rather occupied at the moment, Mr. Malfoy," McGonagall said. She wasn't occupied, she was clearly agonizing over something she could not control.

"Yes, and I may know something about that," Draco said, which he thought should have been obvious.

Draco hadn't anticipated being hoisted into the air by his robes the next moment. How could he be so slow and the oaf so fast? Draco had never seen any particular reason to care one wit for the half-giant, and this was not improving matters.

"Hagrid, put him down!" the Transfiguration professor shrieked, Draco now had her full attention at last.

The man who was supposedly responsible for teaching Draco a class for three years demanded, "What d' you know about Albus Dumbledore get'in- get'n poisoned?" the brute demanded, though Draco did at the least find himself on the ground again.

"Hagrid, that is enough," McGonagall chided as if he were a child. He was essentially an overgrown child, and everyone had seemingly always treated him as such. Perhaps he would have grown past it if people treated him more like a man. It didn't make Draco like the oaf. "Can you stay here waiting for Poppy's updates?" she pressed, giving him a task.

The half-giant nodded, looking lost.

"This way, Mr. Malfoy," the old witch called, and Draco was more than willing to leave that particular corridor.

"While I do not in any way condone H- Professor Hagrid's approach, I do need to know everything you know- or suspect- about Professor Dumbledore's condition," the Scottish woman said firmly.

Wasn't it obvious that if Draco hadn't wanted to do that, he wouldn't have come to the hospital wing looking for the Deputy Headmistress?

"Hagrid is fiercely loyal to Albus," the woman said with an air of apology.

Draco nodded, "Dumbledore allowed him to stay at the school after he was expelled under false pretenses," Draco decided to display a bit of what he knew. He also knew that Hagrid was a fourteen-year-old half-giant at the time, and an orphan- or at least, without his wizard father. Draco had learned everything he possibly could about both times the Chamber of Secrets had been opened in living memory.

It gave Draco- some measure of sympathy for the man, but Rubeus Hagrid was unfit to be a professor, and Draco would stand by that against any objector- not that there were many in the castle. Draco would bet that NEWT Care of Magical Creatures students were fewer than in past years.

McGonagall looked curious but nodded. Would Minerva McGonagall have been a student herself at the time of the last opening? Draco knew more than any other student at Hogwarts, he would wager, about the lives of nearly every key official in their society. What he knew of Minerva McGonagall amounted to her half-blood blood status and a brief marriage to her former employer at the Ministry, though the witch was now widowed for decades without remarriage or children.

"Someone cursed a house elf and made it do the poisoning," Draco said. "I believe with the Imperious Curse," he said because house elf magic was quite strong and would surely be difficult to overpower with less force. "It was not at fault in any way and doesn't know who cursed it," Draco said. He hadn't thought of Dobby as an "it" in some time.

"And you know this how, exactly, Mr. Malfoy?" the old witch asked skeptically.

"I have spoken with the elf, and there is no more useful information that will come from it in its distressed state," Draco said, chin held high. It was probably even true, though he should have tried harder, come up with more questions.

"Draco Malfoy protecting a house elf?" the woman questioned, though she didn't seem overly surprised. "What would your father say?"

"I am certain that you know that I haven't seen my father in well over a year. You might also know that I have not so much as written to him in nearly as long. And that was a single Christmas card that was truly to my mother."

"And what has caused this separation?" the woman pried.

There wasn't much harm in telling her. She already knew. Adults enjoyed hearing what they already knew, especially teachers. Teachers who weren't Severus Snape at least.

"Because I love and will marry Ginny Weasley, and my father has nearly caused her death twice," Draco answered.

"And ideological differences?"

"I generally believe killing people and other intelligent beings to be wrong, yes."

"So, the elf cursed was your family's former house elf, one called Dobby," the woman stated.

"Why… would I associate with a disgraced former slave?" Draco asked uncomfortably. Unconvincingly, damn it.

"I believe you will find that the Headmaster and I know nearly everything that… happens in these halls," she said.

Draco decided not to mention the obvious, that if either of them knew as much as they thought, the Headmaster wouldn't have been poisoned. Unless the man was more addled than even Draco thought.

"And where is the elf now?" she questioned.

"He's safe," Draco replied, which wasn't going to earn him favour with the witch.

"If you did not trust me with this, Mr. Malfoy, you would not have sought my attention."

The old witch knew a few things.

*****Ginny*****

People could move on so quickly. Once Dumbledore attended dinners again, no one even talked about it. It only took three days, though Dumbledore looked horrible, he was there again.

Draco had told her everything he'd known- which Ginny would have passed along to her brother and Hermione and Harry if she wasn't still annoyed with them- or at least with the boys. But Hermione would have just told them.

Draco was so protective of the little elf. He would be a good father. Later. After Ginny had a successful quidditch career. Though the seasons were not year around, and younger women recovered more quickly, didn't they? She would be perfectly safe flying while pregnant if not for the bludgers. Perhaps light practice in the off season...

*****Draco*****

"Mr. Malfoy, you are incapable of remaining unnoticed. You might have been a Gryffindor," Draco's head of house declared, a supreme insult. They were, of course, alone. Severus would have known that Draco talked to McGonagall then. Unless he was bothered by something else.

"So, I'm supposed to be you, not really helping anyone and no one knowing who you truly serve? I think you work only for yourself," Draco dared say. Because he was… because he had known this man for longer than he could remember. But the same was true for many others who he now trusted not at all.

"It is a balance than any Slytherin walks if they do not themselves wish to be the Dark Lord. Even among the self-righteous Gryffindors, one can never quite know where they stand with another person."

"Use Legilimency then," Draco dared then. "You know I'm not good enough to stop you when you really try," Draco goaded, feeling young and helpless. When the matter was pressed, Severus Snape could know exactly what 'side' Draco was on, which was a ridiculous false dichotomy, because Draco wasn't on anyone's side, because he wasn't fighting in some war that could get him and everyone he had ever cared about killed. But his father was already in it, on one side, and even his mother. And Ginny was on the other, and Tonks, and Andromeda and Ted. And Severus Snape, spy for two sides… him knowing what Draco thought couldn't possibly make Draco safer, but he almost wanted…

"Legilimens."

Ripping, pain. Draco could barely think enough to realize that the man had held back in his previous examination.

Draco saw little bits of… way too much. Mostly memories from that summer and any interaction with others in his year, Slytherin and Gryffindor. And with Ginny.

Eventually, the man was satisfied, and Draco was free, panting and faintly glad to still be standing. Snape probably even saw the pictures Ginny had given Draco. He was almost glad that they hadn't done much more than snog, because Snape would have seen it all.

"Be wary of your dorm mates," the man said with something in his voice. "I cannot question each of them in this way while maintaining my precarious position," he said. Which made Draco want to trust the man, but he could just as easily just be saying that to cover himself.

Draco could spend years saying that Slytherins weren't evil, but he also knew that he was standing in front of a murderer, someone who hadn't prevented dozens of murders at the least. Even if Ginny trusted him. And if this man hadn't tried to kill Albus Dumbledore, then it had likely been a student in Draco's house, perhaps in his room. And Draco had outright invited the man into his mind. He'd once called him Uncle Severus. Draco might look for a different place to sleep, if he could do so without arising more suspicion. The house of Andromeda and Ted Tonks was what he really wanted, with a red-headed addition.

A/N: I'm really hoping that I can keep up with new chapters, as my stockpile is dwindling. Reviews are encouragement!