Chapter Fifteen

Just To Waste My Time With You...

Pain.

Draco was aware of voices, above all the voice of Dumbledore. He kept his eyes closed, willing them to go away and leave him to himself.

"What happened, Mr Potter?"

Potter's annoying voice came up now, "It was Voldemort, sir."

There were gasps following this and Draco felt hands on his chest. He wanted to think they were Ginny's but they were too big and manly.

"How?" asked McGonnagall.

"The trophy was a Portkey," Potter began. "Malfoy was at the center but he was trying to keep Cedric and I from it I think. We ended up in a cemetary. His...his father put some spell on him and Pettigrew used another to bring Voldemort back."

"What spell did they use, boy?" growled a voice Draco recognized as Moody.

Every word from Potter's head was setting Draco's head to pounding again so this time he answered himself. "Firidilis."

There was a gasp from everyone listening who knew the spell. Draco tried to push himself up. He was weak so the move was half hearted. Everything hurt.

Moody's strong hands helped him up. Draco could see those gathered. Between the shoulders of the Weasley twins he could see Ginny's worried freckled face. He felt an irational sense of pride. He had proven himself to her.

"Moody, can you take care of this?" Dumbledore asked.

Moody nodded. His eyes met Draco's and in that moment Draco knew exactly who he was. Another wave of pain took over him and the man mascarading as Moody swept him away to the Defense of the Dark Arts Room.

He shoved Draco into a seat. Draco slouched there, in too much pain to do much but glare at him through the strands of his blond hair.

"So what happens now?" Draco growled around the pain.

"Right tricky, Firidilis is," the imposter chortled quietly. "There is the possibility that I can't reverse it in time. Dreadful accident but no one will think anything of it. After all, Firidilis is a dark spell and quite archaic."

"How interesting. I suppose this is the part where you tell me what the hell is going on," Draco ground out.

"You've already figured it all out, haven't you?"

Draco managed a nod. Breathing was getting harder as the pain was growing. "You're a Death Eater. And you got the word a little bit ago that if I make it out with Potter that I'm supposed to die."

"Very good, Mr Malfoy. I'd say I should rethink your grade for this class but I doubt you'll live to see it anyway."

"That...sure, are we?" Draco gasped, clutching his chest.

"Think about it. Even if you susvive tonight, you can't go back home and you can't stay here. Sooner or later, whereever Dumbledore ships you off to, whoever helps you, you will pay. Your father or someone else will find you."

"I'll just have...to be ready then...won't I?" Draco snarled.

The imposter smiled and raised his wand again. "Good bye, Mister Malfoy."

The door at the far end of the hall burst off its hinges. Three red heads stood there, wands lifted. George and Fred flicked their wands in unison. The Imposter, who was looking less like Moody now, flew up into the air, his wand imbedding itself in a chest.

Fred held the man up as George ran over to the chest, opening it and sticking his head in. "Not a bad call, Ginners."

Ginny walked up to the chest and glanced in as Dumbledore and McGonnagall came in with Potter. "Harry thought of the chest."

"But you knew he was an imposter," Fred chirped, shaking said imposter.

Ginny turned to him. "Take it off him."

The weasley looking man who had once appeared to be Mad Eye Moody snarled down at her. "Do it yourself, if you can."

Ginny looked at Draco. "Maybe I will."

She pointed her wand at Draco. Long, beautiful strains of Welsh slid from her lips and the pain was suddenly gone. Draco got to his feet. He was still weak and he staggered. Ginny caught him.

"Thanks," he whispered, kissing her ear.

"You know, I just said to prove me wrong, not get yourself killed," she whispered back then kissed him.

(A/N: Like it? Next is the epilogue then I'll start the sequel.