AN: I've decided that the chapter that I had was too long for one chapter, so I tried to split it up and this is basically the second half of the last one. Sorry if you've already read it and I got your hopes up. I just figured that it's probably easier to read when it's shorter.

Please review! I'm really anxious to see what you think.

Keep the Faith

Chapter Nine

Draco sat in the armchair in his bedroom later that afternoon with his eyes shut tightly and his head in his hands. Things were all of the sudden rushing back to him. All those memories that he wanted to forget. They were so distant in his memory that he hadn't thought about it all in a long time. Damn Ginny Weasley for making him remember. What was it with that girl? One moment they would be at each others throats and the next she would be consoling him, inquiring about his wellbeing. He had been a horrible prat to her, on purpose, and had done things to her that many would probably deem abusive, but she seemed to think he was a good person, which he wasn't, he knew, and he didn't understand why she didn't seem to know it. The painful tingle in his arm was firing up again from when Ginny's touch had last put him at ease, but he tried to ignore it.

Draco lay back and thought of the past.

–––––

"Draco," a girlish voice called out in the middle of the Great Hall. People stopped what they were doing to look, everyone but Draco, who sat staring at the tablecloth in front of him moodily. Pansy was walking towards the Slytherin table. Despite that she had the first couple of buttons undone on her blouse, and her skirt was hitched up to mid-thigh, which was against the rules, and her normal sexy saunter was replaced with a careless speed walk. She had become more and more distracted from her appearance lately, and they all knew why. She and Draco were having issues. It was a known fact that Pansy was in love with him. She would go out of her way to make the boy comfortable. However, Draco himself had been distant with everybody lately. Nobody knew why.

Sending a glare to students' curious eyes, she sat down beside the sulking boy.

When people started to turn away, Pansy turned to him with a mix of incomprehensive frustration and pity.

"You didn't meet me last night." She said quietly in an injured tone.

Draco shrugged his shoulder in response. "I wasn't in the mood."

"But Dray - co," she whined. "Why not? You've always wanted me before."

"Sorry." Draco told her quietly, actually being sincere for once. He looked at her. "I have a lot on my mind."

One of the things about him that had Pansy fawning over him were these rare moments when he was 'real' to her, because she was the only one that saw this side of him. She rubbed his arm in comfort.

"Is it about … the dark lord?"

Draco shrugged her off and looked ahead again. He'd made note to never tell Pansy anything, because although she was his girlfriend, she was the biggest gossip in Slytherin house. The news would be out as fast as a firebolt. Living in Slytherin, keeping one's personal life to oneself was normal, so that was not so much the cause of their distance. Draco knew, however, that one of the reasons Pansy had idolized him lately was because she was in awe of the fact that the dark lord had given him a task. If she revered him because of that, he didn't think he could ever see eye to eye with her. He no longer thought any good about the dark lord and his task, and felt himself estranged from his own house.

–––––

"Draco! Tell me something." Pansy panted as they walked together in the deserted dungeon hallway. Draco looked around to ensure they were alone.

"No." he seethed.

"I won't tell anyone, promise." She grabbed onto his shoulder.

"Get the fuck off of me, Pans." Draco shoved her roughly and she stumbled back, stunned. A moment passed and she caught up to him once more, looking angry.

"All I know is that something has been happening to you, Draco. It has to do with the Dark Lord, I know it. If you just tell me –"

"I said no, damn it!" he stopped and turned to her, the hostile look in his eyes stopping her in her tracks. "Get out of my business, why don't you?"

"Fine," she sniffed. "Fine. Whatever you are doing to yourself, Draco, these dark arts you're involved in, you're isolating yourself from us. I don't even know you anymore." There were tears in her eyes. "I thought I loved you, you know, but you're a complete stranger to me now. And if you're not even going to try, then we're over!"

Draco stared after her as she ran off down the hallway, leaving him in darkness. She was probably expecting him to go after her, he thought. But he felt numb inside. He felt nothing. He registered her pain, but he couldn't make himself feel anything like he normally would have half a year ago. The pressure was threatening to explode within him, but he couldn't react.

His feet led him idly throughout the castle, cruising the empty hallways, not even registering the people that walked by him. A feeling of restless panic, of helplessness took over his mind.

He ended up on the third floor. Feeling on the verge of breaking, he punched the thing closest to him, the wall, and shouted out his frustration. He threw down a suit of armour with a loud crash, and let his frustration and anger out on everything in sight. When his adrenaline slowed down, he leaned back against the wall as his emotions overtook him, his hand over his eyes, and drew in a shaky breath.

"Why are you making such a racket? Have you come here to taunt me?" A girly voice drifted to him. Draco looked around. Standing – or floating, actually – in the doorway of the girl's bathroom was the ghost, Moaning Myrtle. She floated over to him, staring at him through her big round glasses.

Draco looked away, and ran a shaky hand through his hair. "You've got blood on your hand," she stated cautiously. Draco looked down at his hand indifferently. It was true – he'd cut his hand rather badly when he'd punched the wall, he only now noticed the pain. He shrugged a shoulder mildly and ignored it, looking away again.

"What's the matter with you?" Myrtle asked, moving closer still.

He looked at her and their eyes connected. "I'm going to die." He told her, voicing his fears for the first time.

–––––

Draco hurried through the hallways, glancing over his shoulders every so often making sure he was alone. He had a plan – and if it worked… he might have a chance. When he reached the portrait, he paced back and forth, thinking automatically, I need to finish the cabinet, I need to finish the cabinet, I need to finish the cabinet. When the entrance appeared, Draco hurried in, and made his way purposefully through all the junk in the room, to the spot near the back where he had spent so many hours recently.

The vanishing cabinet sat untouched where it had been left, and Draco set to work right away. He muttered the spell he'd discovered in the restricted section of the library, and waited. Leaning in close, he listened for a sound – any sound. He felt around inside the cabinet and pushed against the back. The back creaked open, but what he saw was not the other side of the room he was in; through the cabinet he saw exactly what he wanted – into the store of Borgin and Burke's.

He let out a laugh of relief. Followed by another. He felt surreal. He could see hope for a change rather than his doom.

–––––

Draco was running. His adrenaline high, as the blood pumped in his ears. He followed Snape as they ran on the grounds. Dumbledore was dead, and Snape had murdered him. It was all he could think other than the drive to get away. They were close to the gates. "Run, Draco!" he heard Snape yell. Draco was less than twenty yards from the gate. He looked back to see Snape had turned around and Potter was running at them, yelling something. The others death eaters were ahead of him. When Draco ran past the gate, he turned back and saw the devastation he had brought upon the school. Potter and Snape were going at each other and yelling incoherently, two death eaters were behind them in the distance. The groundkeeper, Hagrid's hut was aflame, casting an eerie glow upon the battlefield. With the scene in his mind, he disapparated, all of the yelling and noises from Hogwarts turning to a sudden deafening silence.

When the pressure left his head, he fell down onto his knees on the cold floor of the vaguely familiar house. After five minutes of silence, he stood up, and composed himself. Snape should be by soon. He had told Draco to apparate to Spinner's End, to Snape's own home. He'd been there before, visiting with his father when he was young, but he wouldn't be staying long. Both of them were going to have to go into hiding. He looked around at the dark décor without really registering what he was looking at. All he could think of was what had happened up on that tower.

Draco couldn't decipher his own feelings. From this moment on, his life would be changed for ever. He would be permanently in the service of the Dark Lord, and that was if he was lucky enough to not be murdered tonight. Because for all he knew, these were his last few hours left. In those few minutes that he stood there, he thought of what had happened that night. Dumbledore was dead – which was what the Dark Lord had wanted, but Draco himself hadn't been the one to do it. Without him, it surely wouldn't have happened like that, but how would the Dark Lord see it?

CRACK.

The noise of Snape apparating behind him didn't deter Draco in the slightest, and he continued to stare straight ahead. Snape put a hand on his shoulder and turned him around. Through the numb feeling that Draco felt, he glared at Snape, noticing the blood soaking through his robes and the look of rage in his eyes that Draco had never seen before, but Draco didn't care. "Draco." Snape began through gritted teeth. "You're life is going to be entirely different from now on. You're good at occlumency, so use it. Don't look at him or say anything. Let me do the talking. Now let's go."

"Where?" Draco demanded.

"We're going to visit the Dark Lord, Draco, to decide your fate." After a moment's consideration, he asked seriously, "Do you need a minute to prepare yourself?"

Draco shook his head. He was as ready as he'd ever be.

Severus Snape nodded in understanding, and grabbed Draco's arm tightly and they apparated to somewhere he'd never been before.

"The Dark Lord should be coming soon," Snape told him, but Draco felt nothing. It could be the end, or not, but either way, his life as it had been was over.

The Dark Lord certainly had come. He had been angry with what had happened, but thought that Draco had done well getting them into the castle and executing the plan, so he let Draco live, but not, however, without punishment. That night he'd gotten the mark, and become the victim of much initiation of Voldemort's inner circle. They took it upon themselves to make his life as miserable and painful as they could make it. They cursed him until he was bruised and bleeding. He'd received the cruciatus so often that he almost became immune to pain. He was certainly strong, but he was no match for four or five Death Eaters at a time. Severus was the only one that ever put a stop to his abuse, but he couldn't always do it. He was soon enough subject to a life of inhuman torture and submission to the wizard he'd soon come to hate most in the world.

–––––

One day, Draco was in the Malfoy Manor. It was inaccessible to most of the wizarding population, so he felt safe there. A sudden sharp pain in his forearm foreshadowed the Dark Lord's need for him, and he made his way down into the entrance hall of his home. But suddenly he was no longer alone. A group of Death Eaters burst through the front door and made their way loudly inside.

Draco stared, outraged. "What the fuck are you doing here? Get the hell out of my house!" he told them stonily.

Some of them laughed, while others took out their wands. Draco took out his own wand, and advanced toward them. A piercing laugh cut through the air. He turned to see his hateful aunt Bellatrix looking at him.

"Little Draco," she laughed mockingly. "This is no longer your home, boy."

He glared. "Damn you, Bellatrix," he sneered down at her. "I don't care if we're related; get the fuck out of my house."

An ugly sneer crossed over her face, and she aimed her wand at him. "Crucio!" Draco fell to the ground, writhing. It felt as though a thousand knives were stabbing him all over, but he refused to cry out. All he registered were the cruel laughs of the watching Death Eaters.

A minute later it stopped, and he lay on the ground catching his breath. It was quiet save for his ragged breathing and someone's heavy footsteps. A hand appeared in front of Draco's face, and he took it, letting it pull him to his feet. Snape stood in front of him, his face a mask. The other Death Eaters had gone silent and looked disgruntled. Snape looked at Draco steadily. "Draco, Malfoy Manor has recently been declared Death Eater Headquarters."

Draco looked around. They were all smirking at him. He looked up at Snape once again in confusion. "But how –"

"Your mother." Severus told him quietly.

When he'd questioned his mother on the subject of giving his house to the Dark Lord, she'd told him to just let it be and let them live there if they wanted to. With that, he gave up on trying to defend his house. He gave up everything, and started to plan.

–––––

During a secret visit to Azkaban, Draco found it quite unbearable. He wanted to be in and out of there quickly. The dementors had a worse effect on him now than they ever did in the past. He figured that it was probably because his life had been less than pleasant for the past half a year, he thought cynically.

Draco, wearing a dark robe and a hood that covered his pale face in shadow, was led by one dementor to the high-security wing of the prison. Ghastly looking men and women could be seen moaning and muttering incoherently from behind bars, some of which looked at him hauntingly with pallid complexions and dark eyes. Draco walked quickly to his destination. The one sane-looking man in the whole wing looked at him coolly.

"Draco," he greeted smoothly. "What a surprise."

"Father." Draco walked up to the bars, and his father did the same. Draco was not allowed inside the prisoner's cell.

"What are you doing here, Draco?" he asked, quick to the point.

Lucius was aware of what had happened to Draco and Narcissa and the Malfoy Manor, Draco knew, and was not happy about it.

"Father I need to ask you something."

Lucius nodded.

"I have a plan – to get away, but I need to know first if you will come?"

"You want to run away?"

"Yes." He stopped at Lucius' disapproving frown. "It's the only way, father. You know what life has been for mother and I, I know you do. Do you really think that it's worth it? For any of us? Mother is living surrounded by Death Eaters that don't treat her well, you're going to rot in here or get killed if you go back to him."

"Fine," he conceded abruptly. "What's the plan?"

"If I get you out of here, will you go and rescue mother from them, and leave the country? I'll be in hiding, so I'll catch up to you later."

After a moment's thought, he answered, "Yes."

Draco nodded. "Good. Just be prepared if you're end up being released by someone you don't like."

"Like who?"

"Arthur Weasley."

Lucius nodded in approval. "You're blackmailing him?" he asked, impressed.

"That's the plan."

–––––

Draco opened his eyes again. He hadn't thought about all of that in a while. It would be good to finally be away from it permanently, as he would be when his father got out of Azkaban later that day. He should be feeling happy that they would be leaving soon, but it felt strange. Strange that he would be leaving his previous life all together. Soon enough, all of this would be nothing but a distant memory. But he could not make himself happy with that thought.

(((KTF)))

The sound of the heavy rain pattered on the roof. The day was gloomy and dark, and Ron and Harry were exhausted. It had been a while since any of them had slept well. They all thought that they'd been so close to their goal, but it turned out they were just as far as before.

Harry rested his head in his hands. The reality of frustration and helplessness was thick in the air around them. Neither could escape it. He yawned and lay down on the old couch and stared at the wooden ceiling.

Ron, on the other side of the room, sat watching Harry. He had been sitting in the deep windowsill for what seemed like ages, watching the rain pour down, trying to think. Thinking was never really Ron's department, and every so often he would turn and watch Hermione poor relentlessly over thick volumes of books that looked about five hundred years old. At one point he noticed the cold, as their fire had gone out, so Ron had moved to set it aflame again, and to put his coat over Hermione's shivering shoulders. That was the only time in hours that anyone had moved significantly.

They had been so close to their last mark, and it tortured Harry that it had completely eluded them again. All three of them were tired. Harry especially felt as though the weight of the whole wizarding world was resting on his shoulders.

"How's it going there, Harry?" Ron joked, trying to lighten the mood. "Come up with any genius ideas yet?"

"Yeah. I think we should start over from the beginning." Harry told them seriously.

"Start over?" Ron looked vaguely green. "What do you think, Hermione?" he asked in her general direction.

Both boys were shushed when Hermione held up a finger strictly. Her right index finger was skimming over the pages quickly as her eyes ate up the words.

Harry and Ron shared a look. Hermione had done this an endless amount of times, thinking she'd gotten somewhere important, but it always turned out to be nothing.

"Ron, Harry," Hermione looked up at Harry excitedly, "I think we have something."

(((KTF)))

It was evening, and the heavy rain, which created a constant patter on the windows, cast a tense and foreboding atmosphere on the house. Ginny had been depressed all day. At first it had been because Draco had rudely brought back the worst memories of her life, and she had spent a majority of the afternoon lying on the couch recalling the horrifying memories of Tom Riddle. But then, her mind kept going over their argument, and the aftermath, and she realised something that shocked her: she was going to miss him.

Draco Malfoy was a mystery. She wanted to know everything about him. She wanted to see him happy. She wanted him not to have to run away.

Ginny couldn't imagine going back to her old life. She'd hated it. She had hated living every day feeling useless, being trapped in the Castle, waiting on the sidelines while almost everyone she knew was out there doing their part for the war. Helping Draco wasn't something she would have predicted, but it suited her. She felt like she was finally doing something worthwhile by helping him. But not only that, he distracted her. She wanted to spend time with him; she wanted him to like her. But then that was where she went wrong. Ginny knew that he wouldn't. It was who he was. He didn't want to make things more difficult, he'd told her. Well, she thought, it was not making anything easier on her. Her heart felt like it was clenched in a fist.

That's what her father had always told her when she was younger – that despite her mischievous side, she loved so easily that she was destined to be hurt if she wasn't careful. Of course, she didn't love Draco; she was just incredibly attracted to him. Not just his looks, because she was obviously attracted to his personality – despite that he was cruel and insensitive a lot of the time, for the last week or so, he had shown her that he was so much more than that. She just didn't know what it was yet. That was probably what was most fuelling her to help him.

And it was this desire of hers that made her so depressed about never seeing him again. With Draco gone, there was no doubt that her life would go back to how it was before.

Ginny lifted herself up from the couch and walked out of the room which had turned dark. It must have been fairly late by then, and she wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but she knew that she would never be able to sleep. Not with the knowledge that Draco was leaving soon the next day. Ginny made her way slowly down the hallway toward her room.

She was in front of her door, when Draco appeared in his open doorway, leaning casually against the frame. He'd obviously heard her coming. Ginny refused to meet his eye. "Weasley," he muttered. She paused in her ministrations. "Look – I just wanted to say…" he trailed off at Ginny's expression, getting a good look at her for the first time. Ginny, on her part, was trying to prevent tears from coming, and she knew it must have shown on her face.

"What's the matter?" Draco asked her, shifting his position so that he was no longer leaning. At this show of feelings from him, Ginny suddenly broke. She looked up at him angrily.

"What is the matter with me? What is the matter with me?" Ginny looked up at him, the fire emanating from her eyes, she clenched her trembling hands into fists. "A lot, okay? I am trying to help you! I've been good about leaving you to yourself about it too. And when I try and ask you questions, you don't answer! And maybe that's just none of my business. Fine! But that doesn't seem to matter! Because I am so bloody attracted to you, so insanely curious about what has happened to you, and when you leave…when you leave I will never see you again! And it hurts to think about it. Maybe that's selfish, but no matter how hard I've been trying, I can't forget it!" She wiped angrily at a tear and glared at Draco, knowing that she was babbling. Angrier at herself than him, and whirled around, disappearing into her room.

Draco was left staring at the air where she had been standing.

What… what had just happened?

He had been angry at her, but now his heart was aching – a strange feeling. His mind was reeling. Ginny liked him? The spirited redhead that he'd kidnapped, hurt, and who should rightfully despise him, desired him? Forgetting all of his previous thoughts, Draco knew that he had to do something. He couldn't leave them like this.

Letting his feet guide him, Draco moved surely toward the door. He stopped just outside of hers. Then he knocked, gently. Ginny took a moment to open the door, but Draco stood immobilized, staring at her from intense silver eyes like he was possessed. Ginny's eyes were slightly red from crying. Her red hair was down and in a beautiful mess of red, and her brown eyes looked torturously up at him.

She looked so lost and lonely, like he felt.

Before he even knew what happened, Draco was right in front of her, his hands were on her face, and his lips were on hers. His arms wrapped around her, holding her close. After a stunned moment, Ginny's soft lips responded with vigour and ferocity. Her breath mingled with his; the taste of his lips and the feel of his invading tongue drove her wild; the sheer intimacy and impulse driving her wild. Her soft body was held as though for dear life in a tight embrace against his.

Draco was the first to pull away, catching his breath, and leaning his forehead against hers with his eyes closed. He whispered her name. "Ginny."

She looked up at him, feeling slightly drugged from that first kiss. She ran her fingers down the side of his face. He opened his eyes and they looked at each other for a long moment.

She suddenly smiled almost giddily. "You said my name," she whispered, and pushed herself up on her toes to make contact once again.

The beautiful mesh of lips continued with growing passion. Through the intoxicating contact, Draco vaguely wondered why he hadn't done this before.

He started walking forward, never taking his lips off of hers. He shut the door behind him distractedly, and they backed into the dark room even further.

Ginny's hands were suddenly in his hair, grasping and letting go erratically. Draco's strong hands went to her waist, moving up under her shirt, caressing the bare skin of her waist and back and stomach, tracing the bottom of her breast. Ginny groaned into his mouth, pressing closer to him.

They suddenly hit the bedpost. Draco's hand went down to her thigh and he lifted her up, placing her gently on the bed, without even breaking the touch.

And he climbed down on top of her.

His lips travelled to her neck, and he breathed in the scent of her. Ginny moaned in bliss and arched up into him, and her hands travelled to the collar of his shirt, undoing the buttons one by one, and he shrugged it off impatiently.

Ginny ran her hands up his strong chest, and pulled him back down. She could feel the evidence of his arousal, and her eyes widened involuntarily. He must have noticed her sudden stillness, as he stopped kissing her neck and looked into her eyes.

Seeing the pool of desire in his grey eyes along with the question, Ginny kissed him fiercely, encouragingly. His hands suddenly went up her shirt, pulling it off of her. The heat between them warded off the cold, but Ginny felt a shiver go through her and butterflies in her stomach. Dazed from the emotions and heat of the moment, Ginny moaned in pleasure at his touch.

With all of his strength and willpower Draco pulled back. "Do you want me to stop?" he whispered seriously as he lifted himself off of her with his elbows. Ginny's eyes were alight with passion and he couldn't look away. He wanted to kiss the living daylights out of her, and do a lot more than that, but although his self-control was long gone at this point, he refrained from touching her.

Ginny's chest was heaving with nervous excitement. She looked nervously up at him for a full minute. Brown eyes searching silver. She could hardly think straight. He was like a drug that made all other thoughts fly out of her head. Her brain was telling her that there was something wrong with this, but she couldn't think of what. It felt so right. She couldn't think straight, so she went with her heart. "No," she breathed, and pulled him down to her again.

Whatever happened, would happen, she told herself. At this point there was no way she could make herself stop.

(((ktf)))

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