A/N: I just realized I got a whole bunch of dates and numbers wrong in past drabbles - I fixed some of them just now. I hope it doesn't send notifications when I do that - if it does, my apologies! This one didn't develop quite how I wanted it, but I hope you like it.

Prompt #39: 8/16/17

811 words, according to Google docs.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" a voice hissed from beside the redhead. She nodded without turning, face determined in the dim light of the corridor.

"Of course," she responded, standing. "Let's go crash a party."

ooo

The Ministry of Magic threw an elaborate welcome ball for the new Minister that December - an artfully decorated ballroom was set up weeks in advance, and invitations were sent out quickly on black parchment by owl. The guests, many noticed, were primarily wizards and witches dressed in sweeping black robes and white skull-like masks. These invitees always clustered together near the stage, openly raucous and disruptive. The guards, stationed at every door, didn't seem to mind, though. Neither did the Minister.

"Welcome, welcome!" he shouted, taking his place at the podium. It took a few moments for the black-robed people to quiet down, but he only chuckled. "I am eternally grateful to Rufus Scrimgeour for allowing me to reach the level that I'm at today," he continued, a leer spreading across his face. "It was rather…polite of him, don't you think?" At his words, the crowd next to the stage erupted into blustery cheers - a few sent sparks flying into the air from carelessly-waved wands.

At the back of the room, Ginny Weasley sat quietly, clenching her fists beneath her demure dress robes. The witch sitting next to her - an old, somewhat senile woman - tittered at the new Minister's words.

"Charming, isn't he?" she cackled. Ginny only nodded. The Minister continued his speech.

"I would also like to thank the Noble House of Black," he announced. "They have been a key part of my campaign and I would not be standing before you if they had not lent a hand."

The trigger word. Ginny wordlessly reached up to tuck a piece of brilliant red hair behind her ear, making sure to let her hand linger there. Almost immediately, she noticed with a grim smile that a wizard across the room from her had stood up, seeming to approach the Minister's supporters near the stage. This part was crucial, she knew - if Neville messed up, they'd all be toast.

"Who're you?" she heard from the stage - a snarling voice coming from the mass of black cloaks.

"I'm Neville Longbottom," came his faint but distinct voice, bold and unreserved. "And I'm not alone."

Then the world descended into chaos.

Ginny leaped up as flares of light streaked across the ballroom - thankfully, no green yet. Sweeping the room at a glance, she saw that everyone was in their positions, wands drawn and faces set. The clock above the stage ticked - five seconds to nine, four, three, two, one -

All at once, flashes of light exploded across the room - portkeys, she thought with a twinge of satisfaction. Everyone unrelated to this battle will be gone in a few seconds, now. The brown chairs, which had looked so innocent until now, had been transformed into portkeys, which had transported all the bystanders away.

Ginny moved fluidly through the remaining chairs, and as the curses returned full-force, she threw herself fully into the battle. By now, most of the Death Eaters had thrown off their masks and were retaliating with vengeance. The members of the Order and Voldemort's supporters were fairly well-matched - both in numbers and skill.

Ducking as a spell whistled past her ear, she sprang forward, curses spilling from her lips. "Petrificus Totalus!" she cried, sidestepping a Death Eater easily and taking down another. Time seemed to whip by as it usually did when she was fighting - she ignored the pangs of hunger at her belly (the Order was always short on food) and the painful stab of a gash in her thigh, and focused solely on the task at hand.

Whirling around, she sensed her attacker before she saw him - her hand flew out and fingers locked around his wrist as she completed her turn. His wand now useless, knocked to the ground, she thrust her own at his throat.

"Nice try, Death Eater," she hissed, before halting abruptly. Ashy-blond hair peeked out of the black hood and as the mask fell away, she noticed the very distinct aristocratic features and stormy grey eyes. She laughed. "Joining the dark side at last, Malfoy?" His expression didn't change.

"And I'm enjoying every second of it," he breathed, before wrenching his wrist out of her grasp. She reacted quickly, throwing herself to the side before shooting a curse at him that missed him by a centimetre. However, she paused, confused, when all he did was tuck his hood more firmly around his head.

"What are you doing?" she demanded sharply, wand at the ready.

"I'm changing my mind," he said simply. "That offer Dumbledore made a few years back?" He smirked. "I like the sound of it."

Draco Malfoy would meet the rest of the Order that night.