Disclaimer: Clearly I don't own Harry Potter, nor am I making any sort of money off of this.
Notes at the bottom this time :-D
OoOoO
Chapter Eleven
Rule number nine: Patience always pays off.
There was a new code in the homework that Bill handed out on Tuesday. Draco started translating it as he walked back to the Slytherin dorm, trusting that his feet knew the way and that the other students would stay out of his path. He was correct on both counts. He walked straight to his room and sat at his desk, fingers reaching for his quill to jot down the message as he decoded it. There was a lot of information here – updates on the Death Eaters' finances, plans for a smuggling ring through France, their agenda in the French Ministry. If this intel was handled correctly, Bill could do a lot of damage to the Death Eaters. Draco was impressed. And then, a second later, concerned.
He sat back his chair and absently rubbed at his knee. He was off the crutches finally, but his leg still ached. Draco knew that the Dark Lord was looking to consolidate his power overseas. The Death Eaters were well-known in Britain, too well-known. Much of the wizarding world still bore the scars from the first magical war and the population was sick of fighting. But Pureblood sentiment was strong in other areas of the world, and those sentiments had been invigorated by the unrest in Britain. Many Pureblood families in Europe had been inspired to take action themselves, grabbing more power from the government and passing anti-Muggleborn policies. If Voldemort was able to gain their support, he could return to Britain with an army.
Draco pushed the homework away. He didn't want to think about it.
There was yet another code in the homework on Thursday. Draco puzzled over the page as the rest of the students packed up their things and left the room. Bill shut the door behind them and began pulling out their translation work. Draco heard the rolling chalkboard being pushed into place and then Bill came over to see what he was looking at.
"Are you translating that in your head?" Bill demanded, incredulous.
"Mm," Draco said, not wanting to lose his train of thought.
"That's… both impressive and intimidating."
Draco frowned at the page. "Nagini is one?" He looked up at Bill, wondering if he'd make a mistake in his translation. "What does that mean?"
Bill shook his head. "We're not here to discuss that. Come on, up to the board. Show me if you really learned the Slavic runes in a week."
Draco wanted to push a little farther, but there had been two other lines in the homework page. 'Revel in Calais. Eight more joined.'
That meant Bill had spent the previous night spying on a dark revel and, now that he had that piece of information, he was a little disturbed. Not because Bill looked rough, but rather, because he didn't. There were no dark circles under his face, no pallor, no tension. Dark revels ran late – sometimes all the way to dawn. Bill should look tired. He must be using potions to disguise his appearance. He probably took some energy potions as well. Draco followed Bill up the board, replaying the class in his head. Bill hadn't yawned or stretched or gotten up to move about the room. He usually did. This was the last class of the day; fatigue was normal. Bill was overcompensating with his disguise. That meant he was exhausted.
"Alright," said Bill with his usual smile, no sign of strain. He tossed him the chalk. "Show me what you got."
Draco turned to the board. Bill had two exercises written out, one was to translate a passage written in the Slavic runes, and the other was an English passage to translate into the runes. Draco scanned them over, then stepped forward and began writing. For a few moments, there was only the sound of his chalk passing over the board. Draco glanced back. Bill was perched on his desk, watching his progress with a critical eye. Draco wondered if he should say something. Maybe inquire as to his wellbeing. Was that allowed? Or was it too presumptuous?
Draco finished the first translation and moved onto the next.
"Watch your form on the glyphs," Bill cautioned. "You're making them too uniform."
Draco half-turned. He'd never heard that critique before. "The glyphs need to have some regularity."
"Too much regularity and we begin making them our own, changing what they are, and that can lead to translation errors. First rule of translating – no matter how ugly or irregular, we keep the glyphs as they are written."
Draco erased his work and re-started. "The other part of the message," he hedged, not daring to turn around.
"We're not going to talk about it."
Bill's voice wasn't harsh, but Draco still felt oddly chastised. He finished the translation and Bill stepped up to survey his work.
"Damn." Bill laughed and shook his head. "That's a NEWT-level translation exercise on a runic language that you just picked up last week."
Draco felt a surge of pride. He tried to push it down.
Bill picked up the chalk and made a few minor corrections. "Just need to watch the past tense; it can get a little tricky. Overall, though, I guess we can skip to the next step. What do you know about family matrixes?"
A family matrix was often the first step to decoding a new runic language. Translators would try to pinpoint the timeframe and geographic location of the runes, and then look for any runes that came before or after the target language, the 'parent' or 'child' of the runes.
"Do you ascribe to the British or German way of creating a matrix?" Draco asked.
Bill grinned. "Any translator worth his salt will do both and spit the difference."
They worked on the floor, creating a spiderweb of networking runes around Bill's discovered language. They argued a little bit over the placement of some of the runes. Wizarding history was, at times, quite vague. Historians and researchers could guess at their time of development, but there was a wide margin of error, sometimes as much as a century on either side.
It took them over an hour to stop arguing over placements. When they finished, and stepped back, Draco could see another three languages he'd have to learn. Not impossible by any means, but another delay. He looked over at Bill, wondering what he was thinking. The professor was frowning at the piles, arms crossed over his chest. He yawned, suddenly and violently, and then blinked in surprise, as if he'd startled himself.
Draco didn't laugh, even though his expression was comical. "Invigoration draught wore off then?"
"How did you-,"
"You attended a dark revel last night which meant you probably didn't get any sleep, but you haven't yawned or stretched all class. Invigoration draughts last eight to ten hours, so if you took one in the morning, it would be wearing off about now. If you took any appearance-improving potions, which I imagine you did, you've got a few more hours left on those."
Bill looked away. "You don't miss anything, do you?"
"I miss plenty," Draco said. Like right now, for instance. There was something in Bill's voice, a note of something grave and serious, but he couldn't define it. Was it anger? Irritation? Grief? Draco mentally cursed himself. He shouldn't have said anything.
"The revel was…," Bill trailed off and started again. "It's hard to understand – that is, it's hard for me to understand – no, it's just straight up hard to understand how anyone could be that..." He stopped himself from saying anything more, but the note in his voice hardened into condemnation. He seemed to notice it and winced. "I'm not trying to offend you."
"Maybe we shouldn't talk about it."
Bill nodded. "Now that we've got the British matrix, shall we re-organize for the German?"
Draco was more than willing to change topics. They began switching the runes, working in an awkward silence. Draco was used to awkward. Family dinners when Lucius and Narcissa were home were uncomfortable enough to turn his stomach, make the food stick in his mouth and settle heavy in his stomach. This was worse because Draco felt a strange sort of guilt. It grew every time Bill yawned or stretched, the sleepless night now weighing on him.
"I've never been," Draco blurted out after Bill spent a moment rubbing his eyes. "To a dark revel, that is. I mean, I was there at the Quidditch World Cup, but I was just in my tent. And that wasn't a real revel; it was more of …an impromptu rally. Some of the other Slytherin students attend revels, but my father-," he bit the last off, not wondering if he should say anymore.
"Your father doesn't let you attend," Bill finished for him. "I heard him tell Nott something similar."
Draco was momentarily startled. He knew that Bill was spying on the Death Eater meetings, and he knew that his father had been referenced in the coded messages before, but Bill was talking about a private conversation. He was close enough to Lucius to overhear personal details. Draco felt a well of questions rise up. What else had he heard? Was Lucius alright? How often did his father talk about him?
But Draco couldn't exactly ask that. He tried a neutral question instead, something light and innocuous. "How often do you see him?"
"He's at every meeting I attend."
Draco hid a wince. Merlin, what a stupid question to ask.
Silence hung between them, heavy and stifling. Draco glanced at Bill as they finished the matrix. His face was inscrutable, but sometimes he looked at Draco, like he was stopping himself from saying something as well.
Merde, this was ridiculous. A Malfoy and a Weasley, working together while one spied on the other side, and the other kept it secret. Draco wondered what Bill had stopped himself from saying. He wondered what word he would use to describe the Death Eaters. Cruel? Evil? Immoral? Draco didn't want to hear those words. Bill had seemed reluctant to say them at least, which was immeasurably kind of him.
They finished the matrix. Draco didn't bother to review it with Bill. "It's getting late. I have to go."
Bill seemed disappointed, but not terribly surprised. "We'll pick up next week."
Draco left the classroom with a quick stride, wanting to leave the silence and censure behind him. He was sick of feeling so turbulent, so unsettled and guilty. But at least he had something to distract himself with. The code had said 'Nagini is one'. Draco intended to find out what that meant.
It was simple enough to place an espionage charm on the Golden Trio. The charm only worked when he was in the same room as the three, so he spent the following days tailing them as much as possible. It was aggravating, having their chatter running through his head. They had some of the stupidest conversations, but it paid off on Monday. He overheard Granger reprimand the boys. They weren't taking 'it' seriously and she commanded them to meet at the library that evening.
Rule number nine: Patience always pays off.
Draco was sure to be at the library right after dinner. He claimed a table in a quiet corner of the room and put a light camouflage charm on himself, just enough to make him unobtrusive. The Golden Trio arrived near closing time. He watched them sneak into the restricted section when no one was looking. The two boys stood guard and Granger cast a silencing spell. She pulled a book off the shelf and flipped to some specific page. She placed an empty piece of parchment on the page and cast a complex copying spell. From Draco's vantage point, it appeared she'd only copied one page. She returned the book and then they all slipped out of the library.
There wasn't enough time for Draco to get the book they'd copied; Madam Pince was already shooing students out. Draco could have hidden in the stacks and layered on more camouflage spells, but he knew the librarian could spend hours straightening up. He didn't feel like waiting her out. He returned to his dorms and went to bed, setting an alarm for a few hours.
The alarm roused him at one in the morning. It was easy enough to slip out of his room and up to library. He didn't bother with a silencing charm on the shelf, the way that Granger had. There was an easier way in because Filch, in charge of cleaning, was a Squib. He needed a way to remove the books for maintenance and dusting that didn't require magic. Draco paused at the label on the side of the shelf. Books in the restriction section were alphabetized by the author's last name. This shelf read 'M-O'. Draco slipped the label out of its holder and turned it over, disabling the alarm. He then stepped to the row where Granger had pulled out the book and glanced over the spines. He hadn't been able to read the title of the book she'd picked out, but he'd seen the cover. Black cloth and medium-sized. He spotted it and pulled it off the shelf. There was no title on the cover.
Draco took it to the nearest table and set the book on its spine. He tapped the pages lightly with his wand. The book slammed open, the pages flipping wildly by some unseen force until they came to a halt. Draco smirked; he had thought it was such a book. Books that dealt in dark magic, such as this one, were usually charmed to open to the last page that was read. It was a safety measure that allowed the owner of the book to know if someone had been reading it uninvited. As much of Hogwarts' library had been donated, many of these charms remained in place.
Draco looked down at the page. The writing was in Latin, which was easy enough to read, although the script itself was cramped.
A soul-fracture occurs after a dark act, such as premeditated murder, is committed. A fractured soul can have a negative impact on the body, creating weakness, fatigue, insomnia, and other somatic complaints. It can also negatively impact magic-casting. Herpo the Foul, suffering this effect after slaughtering a rival in his sleep, took the fractured part of his soul and placed it into a modified Pensieve, therefore removing the effect of the soul-fracture. He called this a horcrux. As a result of this ritual, his execution at the hands of Emperor Archimedes was unsuccessful, leading to rumors that he was immortal. He fled to Italy where he lived for another hundred years until the horcrux was destroyed during a siege on his tower. He never fully recovered from this attack and succumbed to his injuries some years later. It is theorized that had his horcrux not been destroyed, he could have lived indefinitely.
There was little else detailed on the page. Draco flipped through the rest of the book, just to make sure he hadn't missed anything. The book appeared to be a compendium of dark maladies and forbidden magic. Draco put it back on the shelf, making a mental note to come back to it one day. He reset the alarm on the shelf and then went back to bed, his mind already working to dissect this information. He'd never heard of a horcrux before, but it was a piece of the puzzle that slotted everything else into place. The horcrux was how the Dark Lord had stayed alive all these years, and how he'd been able to return to power. The fact that Bill's message read 'Nagini is one' suggested that there were more horcruxes. But how many? And what were they?
And what were the other benefits of a horcrux? Draco doubted the Dark Lord created them just to preserve his life. His desire for immortality was well-known, but he equally craved power. And how were they created? Apart from the murder, that is. Was it a ritual of some kind? And how were they destroyed? Would simple physical force do? Or would it have to be a spell?
He had too many questions. He made a list, intending to research it further, and then finally returned to sleep in the early hours of the morning.
He was used to late nights, so he got up the next morning only slightly irritable. He sent for a couple of books from the Manor library but didn't get the chance to do any readding in the following days. He may be a genius, but there were only so many hours in a day. And Draco would much rather study runes in his free time.
There were no further coded messages in Ancient Runes, and when Draco stayed behind after class on Thursday, Bill appeared to be in much better spirits. They resumed their work on the matrixes, picking out the key languages to start studying, isolating any similarities in the formation of the runes, grammar sequences, and so forth.
They reached a lull in their work when Draco finally spoke up. "So, horcruxes."
Bill started, turning towards him with disbelief. "How did you-?" He cut himself off with a shake of his head. "Just when I think you can't surprise me anymore. Alright, how'd you figure that one out?"
"I followed the Golden Trio and spied on their research."
Bill snorted a little. "Golden Trio."
It was clear that he found the nickname funny. Draco couldn't blame him and snickered a little himself.
"I don't think you laugh, Ice Prince of Slytherin," Bill said.
Draco shrugged a shoulder. "At least mine sounds impressive."
"It makes you sound like fairy-tale character."
Perhaps it did. Draco changed the subject. "I assume by the message that there's more than one horcrux?"
"I'm not going to answer that. I don't want you involved."
"I am involved."
"Not in this. It's dangerous."
"The others know."
"Miss Granger is seventeen now, a legal adult. She's entitled to certain information."
Draco frowned. He hated being one of the youngest in his grade, especially now. "How many do you think there are?"
"Draco, please."
"We're going to have to talk about these things. The Dark Lord is gaining power, my father is a Death Eater, and you're spying on them both. It's going to come up in conversation."
Bill sighed and took a seat on a nearby desk. "You're not wrong, but you're also not right."
Draco mirrored him, perching on the desk across the row. "How so?"
"We started having a conversation last week, but we both stopped ourselves from saying what we meant. I was afraid of offending you, that's what stopped me. And I think you were afraid of something as well, though I'm not sure what. I think we need to be honest with each other."
Draco felt a sudden wave of nausea. He kept his face carefully blank, but Bill seemed to notice. He smiled. "I'll go first."
Bill took in a breath, let it out, and said, "I went to a dark revel last week. But the meeting before that was smaller. It was mostly Voldemort's inner circle giving updates about their various schemes and projects. It was normal, well, normal for people who were trying to take over the world."
Bill said it wryly, an attempt at humor. Draco couldn't bring himself to fake a smile.
"Voldemort was angry at that meeting. He's always angry, but that night I could tell it was worse than usual. He wanted to hurt someone. He started with Snape, because he asked about the attack during the Quidditch game, but that wasn't enough for him. He must have used the Cruciatus on half of his inner circle, on his most trusted followers, who were just trying to help him, and I couldn't understand it. Why would these people serve someone, grovel before someone, who was just going to torture them? Voldemort wasn't even inspiring in that moment. He was… a child, throwing a tantrum.
"But then I went to the revel and I realized why they followed him. They followed him so that they could torture people too. They got to inflict pain and suffering on whoever they pleased. They got to act on their worst instincts without guilt, without censure, without retribution. And then I saw Voldemort take part in the revel. He was truly awful, in the original meaning of the world. The things he did, the power he possesses… I was awestruck. And horrified. And I have never been more scared in my life." Bill looked up and met Draco's gaze. "What I wanted to ask you last week was, does that appeal to you?"
Draco's first instinct was to say no. The idea of a revel – full of people and noise, full of taunting and jeering, full of screaming – did not appeal to him. It was too wild, too loud and chaotic. But the purpose of a dark revel was to celebrate power. Draco couldn't deny he liked that.
He licked his lips. "I obliviated Blaise, you know that."
"Yes."
"But I also obliviated the others."
"What?"
"Warrington, Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. They were attacking Blaise. I knocked them all out and locked them in the debate room. I trashed the place and obliviated them so they wouldn't remember. Them I implanted my memories of destroying the room into their minds, so they'd take the blame for it. Then I obliviated Blaise." Draco tapped his fingers together, 1 to 2-4-3-5, faster and faster. "It felt good to do that because I was so angry. I was angry at Blaise for being an idiot and putting himself at risk, I was angry at Warrington for deeming it acceptable to assault a fellow Slytherin, and I was angry at myself for missing all the signs that the attack was going to happen the first place. In that moment, it felt good to hurt them."
"That's different."
"Is it? I'd given orders, they weren't followed, and I responded with physical harm."
"They were attacking Blaise. You did what you needed to protect him and yourself."
Draco let out a breath of irritation. "You're not listening. Or I'm not being clear. I wanted to toy with Nott as we were dueling. If it hadn't been so risky, I would have. I enjoyed that I bested him and had him at my mercy. If I weren't pretending to be average, I…." he stopped and pulled in a breath. He realized his fingers were fumbling over each other in their agitation and he forced them still. "There is something appealing about having control, about having power. And when I'm angry, sometimes I want to hurt people and I want to revel in it."
He studied the floor, not wanting to see Bill's expression, not wanting to see if it changed anything between them. Merlin, this was a stupid idea, being honest.
"Thank you," said Bill.
It was so unexpected, Draco had to look up. The professor didn't seem worried or repulsed by what Draco had said. In fact, he was nodding.
"It makes a little more sense now."
Draco narrowed his eyes. He couldn't quite believe if he was being serious or not. "You've never enjoyed hurting anyone," he accused.
"Sure I have," said Bill. "I've gotten into some spectacular arguments before, and I've said exactly what would cause the most pain."
Draco huffed out a breath of half-laughter; he couldn't help it. Words were not the same as physical damage.
Bill looked offended. "I want you to know that there is a downside to being this friendly. It means that people tell me things, and when I get angry enough, I know where to hit them so it hurts. I'm not proud of it, and I've matured a lot since I was kid, but I said some pretty awful things and I've had to beg for forgiveness afterwards."
"Why are you so friendly?"
Bill shrugged. "I like people. I like all the little things that make people unique and interesting, but most people learn to hide those things. I try to be friendly and everyone as comfortable as possible so they don't have to hide. Sometimes that means I share my quirks or weird habits first to put others at ease. Not everyone likes that. Some people find it strange that I'm so open with them and think I'm being over-familiar."
Draco tipped his head to the side. "It is strange but it's also refreshing. High Pureblood society is full of masks and disguises. It's rare that anyone is just themselves."
Bill pointed at him. "You are the most disguised person I've ever met in my life. It's astounding how you've kept hidden for so long. You are a true deceiver."
It was clear he didn't mean it offensively. Draco inclined his head. "As a Slytherin, I thank you."
Bill grinned, then sobered. "Alright, your turn. What did you want to ask me last week?"
"I don't remember." As soon as he said it, he realized his mistake. It was a typical excuse, one he'd used before, but Bill knew his secret. He never forgot anything.
Bill laughed at him. Draco sighed. "It's not important."
"I think it is."
"Compared to your existential angst, it is."
"I won't laugh."
"It's… personal."
"You have my absolute discretion."
Draco sighed again. "You mentioned Lucius last week, and I realized that you see him more than I do. I only saw him a few times over the summer, and I won't see him again until – until the end of the year, and I just… I wanted to ask…," it was hard to say it, but he forced it out, "how is he?"
Bill's face softened slightly. "There was something else I wanted to ask you last week. It was something I've been thinking of for a while now. I've seen Lucius be cruel, and I wondered if he was ever cruel to you. But you seem to care about him very much."
"He's never been cruel to me." It was easy to tell Bill that about his father. Everything else was complicated, but that was a simple truth, and one Draco wanted to share.
"Your father appears to be doing well," Bill said. "He asks Severus about you quite frequently."
Draco felt something warm release in his chest at Bill's answer. It spread across his face as well and he ducked his head to hide the flush. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Now, how about we get back to these runes? They aren't going to translate themselves."
OoOoO
It was easy working with Draco. That is, the actual translating work was easy. Draco may not have any actual experience, but he understood the process, had a good working knowledge of the major runes, and was incredibly adept at taking in new information and jumping to the logical conclusion. Bill was, quite frankly, amazed. And a little jealous. They completed the matrixes and then isolated the languages that they'd study for the comparison. They decided to focus on five languages to start. Draco already knew three of them, and Bill dug out some references so he could learn the other two.
"Take your time," he said. "We'll start with the three you know."
Draco flipped through the first book. "This one seems similar to the Macedonian script."
He made that assessment lightning fast. Bill nodded. "It is."
Draco turned to the next and his brow furrowed. Bill knew what he was seeing. This set of glyphs, an archaic Roman variation, was one of the more complicated runes, an uncomfortable, heavy sort of language.
"This one might take a while. But I've got time this weekend, and I can skip some-,"
"No," Bill interrupted.
Draco looked up, one eyebrow arched. "It's not like I need to be in class."
"And it's not like we're under a time crunch," Bill said. "We've got three languages to tear apart before getting to these ones, and that'll take six weeks at minimum. You've got time and I know you're busy enough as it is. I was a sixth-year Prefect myself."
Draco acquiesced with a shrug and tucked the books into his bag. He left with a wave goodbye. The door shut behind him and for a moment, Bill stared at it, unmoving, his brain trying to sort through all this new information.
Being honest with Draco had gone better than he was expecting. He'd been able to speak his mind, and Draco hadn't resented him or grown angry, or denied what he was saying. That was all hopeful. And Draco had been honest as well, had admitted to being angry at times and wanting to hurt people. That was normal, but Draco seemed to be suggesting more than that. He suggested he might get some enjoyment out of it. And yet, in all of Draco's interactions so far, he'd controlled that impulse. He did not torture his classmates for fun when they were at his mercy. He did not reveal his genius to lord it over them and gain power; he remained hidden. It made Bill think that Draco's true intentions were self-preservation, but what did Bill know? He wasn't a mind-healer. Maybe he should consult with one, get some tips, or read up on illnesses of the mind.
He packed up his things and returned to his office. He opted to have dinner delivered, rather than heading down the great hall because he still needed to lesson plan for the next day. This spy-business was really cutting into his teaching.
There was a knock at his door later that evening. He looked up to see Ginny come in, Potions book in hand along with a notebook and a collection of spare study pages.
"You have to help me," she said and plopped her schoolwork down on his desk. She pulled up a chair. "You need to explain this to me like I'm a first year."
Bill pulled the book closer to him and scanned through the pages. He'd always enjoyed Potions in school, although being a curse-breaker meant he rarely used it in his profession. He was a little chagrinned to realized how rusty he'd gotten.
"It's the addendum to Boiler's Constant," he realized. "Do you remember learning about that?"
"Yes, I remember learning about it. Did I fully understand it? No, not really."
Bill looked up at her, surprised. "You've never had problems with school before."
"I don't have problems with school," Ginny defended herself. "I have problems with Potions. My brain does not understand it. But I need to get at least nine OWLs, otherwise mom will accuse me of not putting enough effort into school, and then she'll think that the boys are right, and I'm failing school because I'm distracted with dating, but that's not what's happening here, I swear it isn't, so I just need-,"
Bill held up a hand, forestalling her. She pulled in a breath and let it out. She turned pleading eyes onto him and he smiled.
"Of course, I'll help."
"You won't tell mom?"
"I don't see why you can't tell her. Not everyone's good at Potions."
"She wants me to go into healing, like she did."
Bill raised his eyebrows. That was the first he'd heard of it. "She does?"
"She never says it outright, but she… drops hints, you know how she does it. Just little tidbits here and there, little pricks of guilt that make you think you're doing the wrong thing." Ginny sighed and shrugged. "She wanted one of us to follow her footsteps, and I'm her last shot."
"You wanted to play Quidditch last I remember."
"I like Quidditch. I just don't know how useful it is. I want to do something useful."
"Like what?"
"I was thinking of something to do with the law. Like become an attorney."
"Huh," said Bill.
"What does 'huh' mean?"
"It means I'm thinking about it." Bill tipped his head to the side and nodded. "You'd be good at it. You always did know how to argue."
She rolled her eyes and drew his attention back to her Potions work. Bill walked her through as much as he could remember and at the end of a half hour, they were both frustrated, but some progress had been made.
"Think you got it now?"
"Maybe. If not, I'm coming back."
"My door is always open."
She stood and packed up her book and papers. "Find those horcruxes yet?"
Bill threw up his hands in exasperation. "How does everyone know about the horcruxes?"
"I got it out of Ron. I was thinking, since I was possessed by a horcrux, maybe I could be of help with them."
"The fact that you were that close to one already means I'd like you not to have to deal with them again."
"It's a nice wish, but I am the one with the most experience. It makes sense to use me if needed."
Bill sighed and considered her. She stared back at him, fearless and composed. "What was it like?"
She put her book down and tipped her head to the side. "There was a lot of emotions in the diary. A lot of anger. A lot of spite. A lot of desire."
"The desire for what?"
"Power, mostly."
Bill thought back to Draco's words. "Do you suppose the desire for power is what made him go so bad?"
"All of Slytherin wants power and they're not all evil. Zabini for one. He wants power, but he wants it to effect change."
"What do you suppose young Tom Riddle wanted with his power?"
"To hurt people," Ginny answered, rather bluntly. She saw the look of alarm on Bill's face and continued. "Not everyone. He wasn't that crazy then. But he'd been hurt, rather badly, and so he wanted the power to hurt them back. When the desire for revenge became more encompassing, that's when he became Lord Voldemort. But when I met him, he was just a teenaged boy who learned to turn hurt into a weapon, and in doing so, destroyed himself."
It was disturbing to hear her talk about it so calmly, her voice flat and matter of fact. Bill cursed that he'd been so far away when all this had happened. He reached out, pulling her into a hug, and she stepped into it willingly.
"Ginny," he asked, face pressed into her hair, "Are you okay?"
She tipped her head back to look at him. "Bill, I'm fine."
"No, are you… are you healed?"
She scrunched up her nose as she thought. "I'm fully healed, I'm just… different now. It feels like an okay sort of different. Although," she grinned a little. "I don't think I'd get into Gryffindor if I got sorted again."
"You think you'd get Slytherin?"
"What?" She stepped back. "Merlin, no. I'd go Hufflepuff."
"What?"
She grinned at him. "I've reached enlightenment, Bill. I know longer want daring adventures and escapades at Hogwarts. I want parties and hangouts with friends. Did you know that Hufflepuffs have access to the kitchens, all day and night? They have the best parties, and everyone's laid-back, and I'm pretty sure the seventh years have made their own distillery, but you didn't hear that from me."
"What?" Bill asked again.
"Seriously, Hufflepuffs. Chiller than Ravenclaws, but still get to skip all the yearly Voldemort problems."
"I will take that under advisement."
She kissed his cheek and left.
OoOoO
Author's Note: Lovely and patient readers, why did it take me eleven chapters to figure out that I should put the editing note at the end of the chapter? This way you get to read the chapter without me spoiling the changes… like, it's so obvious. I'm an idiot, lol.
Let's talk about this chapter. First of all, it's longer. I seem to have a bad habit of adding more words – but, I wanted to explore the false starts and stutters of Draco and Bill's friendship. Draco has been alone for most of his life, has never had a real friend before, and he knows that Bill is actively spying on the cause he was raised in. That's going to cause some hesitation on his part. And Bill is directly witnessing the cruelty of Death Eaters. That's going to make him angry and confused. I wanted to show how this dynamic impacts their burgeoning friendship, and how they get through it.
Also, Draco asking about his father, really shines a light on how lonely and desperate he is for human connection. It highlights the difference between him and Lucius. Last chapter, Lucius declined sending Draco a letter, even though he'd been injured. This chapter, Draco is asking a Weasley and an Order spy if his dad is okay. It honestly broke my heart a little to write it. You know that was so hard for him to do.
Bill gets a moment here as well. Last chapter, we saw Voldemort basically torture his inner circle, and Bill had no idea why they stayed, until the dark revel. Bill's having a very human reaction to all the evil he's seeing and I want to explore that a little bit more. We also get a moment with Ginny, because this is endgame Draco/Ginny, and I want to start doing her character right.
Anyways, I guess I'll start putting the note at the end of the chapter. Please leave a review, and let me know what you think of the changes. Thanks!
