TWELVE: Charm
Draco could scarcely stop staring at Ron for the space of a moment, so it made sense that he was the first one to realize he wanted them to hold hands in a row, even though they weren't saying a word as they crept down the hallway, and to deduce why.
To cast one Disillusionment Charm on such a large group of people was begging for that charm to warp, go thin in places, pop like a disturbed soap bubble. But several Disillusionment Charms – from several wands – stood a better chance.
Ron clasped hands with him, and then reached out for the other Malfoy, casting the Charm over the three of them. Harry cottoned on to the idea next, and groped about until Draco reeled him in. Potter grabbed for his own Ron, and cast the charm just as Hermione claimed his hand and cast, herself. Then they were all running, running like mad, and it was only a miracle of luck and coordination that no one tripped and tumbled downwards like the first of a series of dominoes. Something clenched in Draco's chest as one-by-one his companions vanished, and he noted that at first, their running faltered a bit – he was relieved he wasn't the only one. But they picked it up soon enough.
Draco trembled when he caught sight of a thin sliver of sunlight shining ahead: the exit that led to the carriage-house; he willed them all into a last, frantic burst of speed, then slid to a stop, feeling someone (Potter?) slam into him from behind.
However, he heard no exclamations of despair… they were still in their wretched daisy chain, Ron (Ron!) squeezing his hand so hard Draco thought it'd leave bruises for certain… Draco pressed the door in a few key places and it creaked open and into the bright summer air.
Narcissa Malfoy's travel carriage was packed and ready, the thestrals already in harness, the Elven chauffeur in a smart, black pillowcase already perched on the driver's seat. Narcissa herself stood behind the carriage, ordering a few last packages into the boot; one trunk stood open.
Draco felt a tug, and their little wagon train departed towards the trunk. Gazing down into it, he saw it held enough space to be a room. He gulped once he realized it was Mad-Eye Moody's trunk, or at least one virtually indistinguishable from that illustrious travel case. One of Draco's hands emptied – he thought the hand that held his his own Ron's – which likely meant that Ron was climbing down into the trunk. He could feel from Necto fiddes that this world's Ron was roughly below him, which meant he was in the trunk as well. He was just reaching the trunk himself when Severus Snape exited the Manor and moved towards the carriage house to speak with Narcissa.
Draco paused, drawing Harry ahead of him in line.
Harry's hand stayed firmly wrapped in his own. Well; but Harry was stubborn.
"Do you have everything you require?" Snape inquired while they shamelessly listened in.
"We both know there's no telling until we've arrived," Narcissa lightly replied. "One always forgets something."
Snape's features twisted with sympathy, and he placed his hand on her shoulder. "I shall stay, then, in case you have… left anything important behind. I can send it on, after you."
No, Draco thought, and NO. No, Snape was not staying in this madhouse, and it was clear from his language that he'd hoped to have some clear sign of the children's safety – and that if he had – if he had – he might have gone along with them. Draco tugged, and Potter for once went along, and Draco pressed his free hand into Snape's. Draco thought, from the queer indentation that appeared in Snape's other hand, that Potter'd done the same.
"On the other hand," Snape said suddenly, "a woman traveling alone in these dark times..." He shook his head and tsked under his breath.
Narcissa looked up sharply, then issued a little laugh that Draco thought might have been wild weeping in any other woman.
"I shall accompany you. If it's all the same," Snape went on.
"We should work on… lesson plans during the journey," Narcissa babbled. "You must acquaint me with the staff. Of course it is to be you, I am – so, so glad it's all… worked out."
Snape's eyes widened in alarm and he led her quickly to the carriage's door, holding her arm as he boosted her to the folding step. "Seat yourself; I'll finish out here."
Narcissa nodded and took deep, even breaths with the clear aim of composing herself while Snape moved to the trunk and Narcissa's few remaining belongings.
Then, a voice rang out across the inside of the carriage house. "Severus."
Draco spun and Harry spun, but they sort of spun anticlockwise, and Draco fell to his knees; because it was Remus Lupin, of course. Now.
Lupin stood, wand raised at Snape, and his eyes were hard and cold. His lips parted to issue a curse.
Remus's wand flew from his hands and off to Draco's right, and an instant later, the man collapsed.
Harry must have cast Expelliarmus and maybe a Stunner right behind it.
Snape stared blankly for a moment, then cast a nonverbal Disillusionment and lifted his wand towards the trunk.
Mobilicorpus, Draco supposed. Marvelous. He climbed into the trunk and then a moment later the trunk closed behind him.
Everyone was there down below, room lit by their wands: Malfoy, both Rons, Hermione, and Harry'd been the last one down.
And an unconscious Remus Lupin, of course.
Ron immediately moved forward and grasped Draco by both shoulders, staring at him keenly. Draco was uncomfortable with the scrutiny, but he nonetheless gazed intently back.
The Ron before him sported longer hair: long enough that it was curling, slightly, at the back. His eyes were warm when they looked at Draco, and his wry expression bespoke familiarity: remember all we've been through together, somehow said the upward, rueful twitch of his grin.
Draco swallowed and parted his lips to say something, he didn't know what... but the next thing he knew, he was overtaken by a Weasley bearhug.
The mad thing was, he wasn't certain which of them had moved first. It had to've been Ron, of course; he didn't even like being touched, really.
Mostly.
When Ron'd squeezed most of the breath out of him, he drew back again. Draco caught the shocked expressions of the others over Ron's shoulder and thought fuck you, with unexpected vehemence. He was back where he belonged, with someone who actually knew him, saw him, Merlin. He was nearly home. He couldn't care a fig for their shock, even if seeing it on his own face was a little unnerving.
"You're alive," said Ron after a moment.
"So're you," Draco replied with a grin, then growled, "…Damn it, Weasley, you've got me repeating inanities at you. You've turned me into a complete Gryffindor." He was still grinning so hard his face hurt. He found he didn't care much about that, either.
Ron scoffed. "I've done that, have I? As if you running after Professor Snape across a field of Death Eaters wasn't the maddest thing I've ever seen. And telling me to look after Harry!"
"But you didn't," Draco said.
Ron sighed. "All right, Potter?" he inquired, looking over his shoulder.
Draco peered around Ron's form to find that the others were still… startled. But Harry managed a nod.
"See, he's fine," Ron offered. Then he sighed, again. "I'm sure you know what happened. I found Malfoy."
Draco transferred his attention to his counterpart, who was staring at the pair of them with a surprisingly blank expression. "Hello," Draco said, for lack of anything better. "Did you – are you both all right?"
Ron shrugged. "More or less. Malfoy was in a right state when I found him. He'd fallen and hit his head, or gotten the worse end of a curse… he couldn't say for sure. Thought I was a hallucination for the better part of the first week we knew each other. Not that I blame him, exactly."
Malfoy was still silent, Draco noted, but the other boy's cheeks flushed a bright red. Draco couldn't tell if he was embarrassed or angry. Maybe a bit of both, if his frowning stare at his feet was any indication.
"The Castle's being repaired, so it's full of wizards … not to mention that the Order is practically living there. It was a bit rough getting around, but we did all right, didn't we, Malfoy?"
"As well as was possible," Malfoy replied in an unexpectedly civil voice.
"That's why you couldn't respond to Draco," Hermione contributed, stepping forward. "You were afraid everyone'd see your Patronus."
"Hullo, Hermione," he said, with a special grin just for her, a grin that said clever as always. "Yeah, that's the sum of it. Especially after you all pulled your disappearing act. I reckoned it'd be best if you stayed gone, if there was no sign of you."
"The Order staying at Hogwarts would also explain why I was able to firecall Professor Lupin…" Hermione added. Her eyes trailed to the Professor, who was still out cold.
"What are we going to do about him?" the other Ron blurted, speaking up for the first time.
Hermione knelt by Lupin and took his wrist between her fingers. "He seemed… all right. He was ready to go along, before he found that you'd been taken." She paused. "Whose wand was broken when you were taken to the Manor?"
Weasley sighed. "That'd be me," he said.
Draco sensed they'd be at it awhile, figuring out what to do next, and for once he wanted no part in it; so he caught Ron's eye and they moved to a corner of the trunk to talk. Draco told Ron most everything, though he made Bellatrix Lestrange's torture sound like it was really rather unremarkable (the word 'Cruciatus' did not come up.) He left out the part about Necto fiddes, making it sound like he had convinced Ron Weasley with his cunning alone, and didn't mention the part about Snape ripping away his magical connection to Harry at all.
The way Ron told it, staying in first the Chamber and then the Room of Requirement was mostly boring. He told a few odd anecdotes about the other Malfoy, but Draco got the impression there was something missing from them; if only he could discern the shape of that missing thing from what stood around it. But he was tired and frightened, and the crisis of the hour was over, thank Merlin.
The crisis of the hour? The crisis of the month was over, now Ron was back. Draco felt he could sleep for a week. After a moment, he said as much.
"You look like you've lost a stone since I last clapped eyes on you," Ron replied. "Are you really all right? Only Professor Snape, and maybe Harry too, would kill me dead on sight if you weren't."
Draco took in a shaky breath and smiled a shakier smile. "It's just that I'm glad you're all right, reckon," he said quietly, tipping his head back on the wall behind him. "Relief. You know."
He must've fallen asleep, because then Harry was shaking his and Ron's shoulders and Draco saw that Hermione was climbing the ladder that led to the outside world.
Lupin was nowhere to be seen; Draco scrambled to his feet and tugged Ron to his. Together they climbed up into the bright summer sunshine.
They had not arrived at Hogwarts, yet. Far from it.
When Draco peered around, the bright, vibrant green of moorland stretched in every direction. He took a deep breath of sharp air and thought Scotland, though he could not be certain. Gorse, heather, and peat lobelia blossomed in the summer heat, but a cool breeze made the hot damp less oppressive. Draco could see washes of pink that he thought might be patches of fumitory covering distant hills; mountains loomed on the horizon.
The entire assemblage was facing Professor Snape and Narcissa, so Draco drew forward, Ron close behind. Whatever was being said cut off immediately when the others realized they'd come. Draco found himself on the receiving end of six pairs of eyes. Seven, if you counted Lupin, who was Incarcerus'd, but upright and apparently awake.
It was Narcissa who broke the tableau. She drew forward and offered him a genuine, if slightly baffled smile. "Thank you," she said, reaching forward with one hand; her tentative smile grew bolder when Draco reached forward, allowing her to clasp his hand in her own. "Thank you for the life of my son. I don't know how you ended up here in my family's hour of need, but we are grateful. And you will find that the gratitude of the Malfoys is worth the sworn oath of many others. This I promise you." And she bowed over his hand and kissed it.
Draco wanted to recoil from sheer embarrassment, but he knew that such a thing would be beyond forgiveness. "I look at you and I see my own mother," he said, rather stiffly. "I could have done nothing else."
"Nevertheless," she murmured. "And I must additionally beg your pardon, to assume you had been ensorcelled or betrayed by your people."
Draco was blushing by now, and desperately wanted to reclaim his hand. "It was an easy thing to assume. I believe I would have assumed so, in your place." His eyes flickered up to Snape, but the other man was staring in Lupin's direction, wand trained on the other man. "I hope you will aid me in returning to my own world." Now that you believe me was the unspoken addition; however, reminding a lady of past failures, especially when they were quite evident to her, was crass. Draco's own mother had raised him better.
Narcissa's attention flickered towards her true son, then focussed once more on Draco. "Of course," she said, smoothly, then moved to stand before Ron. "I hear from my son that you have saved his life twice since the Battle of Hogwarts," she said.
Ron darted a glance over to Draco, who nodded encouragingly.
"Yes, Mrs Malfoy," he replied.
"Though," she added, "I imagine he cursed you much of the way."
Both Ron and Malfoy pinked. "We managed," Ron replied, simply.
"The Weasleys have the eternal gratitude of the Malfoys," Narcissa said. "Once, our families were friends, and I hope they shall be again."
"Mίn dómweorðunge sy þín dómweorðunge," someone off behind Draco said, and everyone turned to stare. Weasley, who had uttered the tongue-twisting phrase, turned bright red.
"I didn't suppose any of the Weasleys recalled that old proverb," Narcissa said, shaking her head. Her expression held something that Draco immediately distrusted, though he could not have said how the planes of her face had changed.
Weasley swallowed, and darted a nervous look Draco's way. "I reckon I remember it because of Necto fiddes," he replied.
"Necto fiddes?" Snape said, turning from Lupin. "What is this about Necto fiddes?"
"The spell I used to bind Draco to me," Weasley replied.
The entire group seemed to explode at once. "You what?" Snape and Ron said in unison, then turned to stare at one another, Snape shocked, Ron furious. Narcissa looked for a brief moment as though she'd been beamed across the back of the head, before she schooled herself to careful blankness. Hermione was rattling questions off at a rapid-fire speed: Necto fiddes? But it's only a binding spell… Is it dangerous? And Malfoy was staring at him in disgust.
"Are you mad?" he shouted. "Do you have any idea what you've done? You've put the entire Malfoy family at the Weasleys' beck-and-call!"
Ronald Weasley looked pale but determined. "That was back before I knew you," he said to Draco, "when I was sure you were still trying to fool me, somehow."
Draco felt hot-and-cold prickles all over. "Mother?" he said, the word slipping out even though he'd meant to call her Narcissa now that she understood who he was.
"Necto fiddes is a faith binding, if one of the more benign," Narcissa explained. "I am afraid he is correct, however. We now owe allegience to the Weasleys." Her mouth twisted, as though she tasted the bitterness of the words.
"Allegience to a Weasley," Malfoy spat, and stalked off.
Narcissa and Snape looked after him but made no move. Perhaps they judged him better than Draco did; Malfoy slumped to his knees once he was a small figure on the horizon, and sat, head in hands.
But meanwhile, the conversation had gone on without him.
"…any Weasley," Narcissa was saying. "The youngest Weasley child could order myself or my husband."
This roused Draco. "Necto fiddes can't compel anyone," he protested. "Weasley – Ron – he didn't try to give me orders. The spell only shows Weasley if I'm being untruthful, or giving a lie of omission…"
Narcissa shook her head. "Necto fiddes is not the Imperius Curse," she said. "It is an honor-pledge, like a Wizard's Debt." She paused, and looked to Snape.
Professor Snape's lips were the thinnest and sternest Draco had ever seen them. "In ancient days," he said, "Necto fiddes was used as a geas on those witches or wizards who pledged fealty to some greater lord, but whose allegience was in doubt. Its workings are subtle, but profound. Unless the curse is broken, you will be unable to plot against Mister Weasley or his bretheren in any way."
Draco rolled his eyes. "I never intended to plot against the Weasleys!"
"Or their allies," Snape went on, coldly, implacably. "And the reverse... it applies, as well."
Draco paused to consider this, but still shook his head. "Not Potter, or Granger, or anybody Weasley holds dear." He turned to stare at the redhead. "Unless you'd like to seat yourself and make a list of all your friends, Weasley… perhaps there's someone in your grammar school I've never liked..."
Narcissa shook her head. "My dear: a vassal is required to take up arms in the name of his liege lord."
The breath froze in Draco's lungs as understanding seeped through his skin. He turned to his own Ron, who was staring at him, the glaze of horror in his eyes.
"We're both in this until the end, mate," Ron told him. "Until he's dead, because I'll die before I come back without you."
Draco wanted to say me, too, or thank you, but both were far too small. He remembered this choice himself, the death-and-Harry choice, and he knew how big it was. Maybe He-Who-Ought-to-Be-Ashamed wasn't standing right before them in this instance, but he had the feeling Ron would make the same choice, regardless.
So Draco swallowed a big lump that felt like his pride and bowed at the waist; but towards his own, familiar Ron rather than the one who'd tricked him. "It's an honor to serve the honorable," he said smoothly, rising. Feeling eyes on him, he turned to find that Potter and Snape were staring so hard they were like as not to set him on fire with their gaze.
Ron drew him into another fierce hug, though, in front of everyone. Draco let him for a moment before pushing him off.
"I don't like this," Ron said. He turned. "And I'm pretty sure I don't like any of you," he tacked on, eyes blazing. "Malfoy's the most honest out of the whole bunch," he said, jerking his head towards the lone figure in the distance, "and 'scuse me, Mrs Malfoy, Professor, but when that's a Slytherin you know something's gone cockeyed."
Narcissa inclined her head, as if to say, none taken. Snape merely stared with interest.
"Well – what next?" Ron blurted angrily. "Now we're in your bloody war, you'd best fill me in."
Well. They'd made a muck of it, Draco thought as he headed through the gorse and after his... brother. So to speak.
Hermione wasn't speaking to Ron, unless you counted the spectacular shouting match that had taken place just after she fully realized what it was he'd done to the Malfoys: I founded S.P.E.W., Ronald, how did you think I'd feel? Draco's own Ron was so angry he looked fit to spit, and Harry'd had to hold him back from punching his counterpart. Narcissa was attempting to referee with an icy gaze and ladylike manner as her only weapons, but it was clear Snape had already given up.
And, of course, Remus Lupin was still hog-tied, though he was rolling his eyes rather a lot.
Draco tried to imagine how it could've turned out worse without some of them having died off at the Manor, and failed. "Hullo," he said when he reached the small, hunched figure, clasping its arms around its legs.
Malfoy looked up, and Draco saw his own misery reflected back at him. "Shut it," was his response. "I'm not speaking to you."
"Much as I'd enjoy a good wallow, we haven't the time for one," Draco replied. "The others are all bickering as well. I should hope the two of us, at least, could get along."
Malfoy's eyes sparked with faint interest. "Then we've got the time for a good wallow, if they're distracted. Come and sit by me." He smiled in an engaging, sweet way, and patted the grass beside him.
Draco blinked. He'd never had his own charm directed towards him before. It was odd, but compelling enough that he found himself seated. "How's – your head?" he began, with little else to go on.
"The lump was the size of a pidgeon's egg," Malfoy confided, "but it's much better, now. Here." He reached out for Draco's hand and pressed it to the back of his own head. "Mostly better; see?"
Draco looked down at the features which were very close, now, to his own. He knew that wide-eyed façade; he'd employed it himself on numerous occasions. "What are you doing, exactly?" he said, one eyebrow raising of its own volition.
Malfoy's small smile slipped off his face. "An entirely Gryffindor question," he sniffed.
"Now isn't the time for intrigue," Draco sighed.
"Equally Gryffindor. Now above all other times is the time for intrigue, and for Slytherin good sense," said Malfoy.
Draco licked his lips nervously. "Slytherin good sense would have you knocking me across the back of the head and disappearing, leaving me to stand trial for your crimes," he said.
Malfoy stared at him for a good half-minute before throwing his head back in a laugh. "You're not entirely a lost cause after all, are you?" he said. "I'm glad. I'd begun to think someone really had cast the Imperius Curse on you."
"Potter did, once," Draco said, "but not for long."
Malfoy couldn't seem to discern whether his counterpart was joking or not; he stared suspiciously at Draco for a moment before shrugging. "As you like," he said, finally. "I was trying to charm you. Obviously."
Now Draco threw his head back and laughed. "Yeah. Yes, obviously. Far too obviously! Didn't you suppose I'd see through you?"
"Even when people see through me, they're still flattered that someone's gone to the effort," Malfoy replied, as though this were obvious.
It was, really.
"The better question is why," Draco said.
"I owe you a life-debt," Malfoy replied. "I want to repay it as quickly as I can, and to do that I need to know what you want."
Draco stared. "Don't be ridiculous. You owe yourself a life-debt? That's mad. I hereby absolve you. Et spiritus sancti," he tacked on, and reached for his counterpart's hand.
"What are you –?" Malfoy began, but Draco spoke over him:
"In waking or sleeping, in silence or speech; in pain and in pleasure and hope out of reach; in defeat and in triumph, in peace and in strife; I return to you that which I gave you: your life."
The connection between Draco's and Malfoy's hands fizzled and popped, then died, like a dud firecracker.
"See?" Draco said cheerfully, when the spell failed. "We're essentially the same person, and you can't owe yourself a Wizard's Debt."
Malfoy was staring. Slowly, he raised one hand to sweep a lock of hair behind his ear, then shook his head. "I see it now," he said, slowly, and Draco knew he did not mean the Debt; Malfoy's throat bobbed when he swallowed. "Very well. The Wizard's Debt wasn't the only reason I was trying to charm you. I always find it in my best interests to make myself agreeable to those in power."
Draco wanted to laugh, but found he was too gobsmacked to make a sound. He couldn't imagine how his counterpart, who seemed so clever, could have gotten things so turned around... unless it was because of his own ego. It might have been comforting to think that, even if he had messed things up terribly in his own world, a world existed where Draco Malfoy had escaped Voldemort and been, however briefly, the hero.
"You are surprised," Malfoy went on, nodding in a self-congratulatory manner. "I thought you would be. If you're half so scared as I am, you probably haven't had a moment to think about who's been making every decision since you arrived here."
"Snape," Draco said, immediately. "I mean, I can see it's not Potter, but – that means it's Snape."
Malfoy shook his head. "Perfectly ridiculous," he scoffed. "Oh, little love is lost between us; no need to look so shocked. He's been broken, if he was ever whole in the first place. Now that his true master is dead and his false master isn't in sight, he'd be lost without somebody to follow... and he's chosen Potter of all people! Brilliant, that. The irony is... I mean, really," he went on. "Extraordinary. And who does Potter look to?"
"Granger and Weasley," Draco said, irritably. "And back to Snape, as well."
"He looks to you," Malfoy countered. "He was looking at you for that entire conversation, waiting to see what you'd say, what you'd do. Harry Potter silent, I never thought I'd see the day. I'm sure Snape thought he'd never see the day! My own mother was looking to you," he added with a downward twist to his mouth.
"Well then, I can't imagine why," Draco returned. "I've been nothing but a burden since I arrived. The only reason I'm alive is because of Snape and M – Narcissa."
Malfoy rolled his eyes; Draco resolved to never do such a thing again, as it was perhaps the most obnoxious thing he'd ever seen. "I listened to the others while you slept. You're the one who pushed Potter to make the Horcrux detector; you and Snape are the ones who stood up to him. You're the one who saw the locket and knew where and how to get it. You're the one who convinced them to go. For Merlin's sake, Malfoy!" he said, sounding exasperated. "Potter was about to murder Snape in his bed when you went for the locket and who stopped him? You... and you somehow convinced Granger and Weasley to go along with secreting Potter away until the deed had been done! That I should have liked to've seen. You convinced Severus that his spying days were over and he had to come along and aid you... you're the one who insisted Lupin was important, though I can't imagine why... and here he is...
"And through it all," he went on with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest, "you sound like Weasley and walk like Potter, as though so long as everyone gets along and does their part there's no way you can't win! I don't think anyone even knows you're in charge, not consciously. It's…" He trailed off, starry-eyed. "A thing of beauty. Not to mention what Weasley let slip about what you've accomplished in your own world."
Draco coughed. "Thank you?"
"I only speak the truth," he said.
Draco cocked his head to one side. "And so you figured me out. The best way to charm me is to be as honest as you can, is that it?"
Malfoy stared up at him. "You inspire it, I think," he said, then ducked his head down.
Draco wasn't sure if that was artifice or not, but he was charmed anyway, which was undoubtedly the point. He didn't know whether to laugh or tear out his hair. "We could've done worse than the Weasleys, you know."
"It stings, though," Malfoy said. "All those years of saying how little he has, and now I'm to serve him."
"Serve his cause. It's not entirely the same thing. And wasn't it what you were going to do in any case?"
"But what if Granger becomes a Weasley?" Malfoy sputtered. "I could be promoting the Society for Elvish Welfare someday."
That thought had not occurred to Draco. "Er…" He smirked. "I guess you'd better put yourself in a position where you could influence Ronald Weasley, then. Make sure that he's got the right idea about things."
Malfoy blinked up at him. "I suppose." He stood, squared his shoulders. Draco thought he looked like he was preparing for battle.
"Are you ready?" Draco said.
Malfoy nodded. "Think so," he said, and smiled his most charming, most Slytherin smile in return. Together, they made for the bickering group on the horizon, walking towards the setting sun.
A/N: I'll admit it: I was scared about writing a scene with NINE CHARACTERS interacting. At once!
Ron's sentence is in Anglo-Saxon, so it must be a very old saying, indeed. It means, "my honor is your honor", but in a positive way, like "my glory is your glory". It is a part of the longer ritual for Necto fiddes, which is in rough Latin. BTW, if you actually can speak/understand Anglo-Saxon, please correct me. I did my research but I am not a languages person and could easily have gotten it wrong, regardless (genitive case? ...geez).
I actually wrote out the entire bit with Malfoy thinking he was hallucinating Ron, long ago. Maybe that will be included as a bit of an 'extras' at the end or up on the site, if you guys are interested. It is somehow really sad and horrifying and also kind of hilarious, because Malfoy's all WHY IS IT RONALD WEASLEY and Ron just sort of laughs at him and mops up the blood.
I could have taken canon!Malfoy in an entirely different direction (all full of angst and I-hate-you-evil-twin), but I think the whole Vanishing Cabinet and almost-dying thing has to have matured him a bit. After all, in canon, Draco refused to give up Harry, Ron and Hermione to HWMNBN when they were captured by the Snatchers, even though he had NO REASON but GOODNESS and maybe a deep, deep desire not to see anyone else from his school murdered in a bloody and brutal fashion right before his eyes. (You never took Muggle Studies, Draco, but still... that had to hurt.) So I made canon!Draco a suck-up, instead. Plus, someone needed to tell SoS!Draco, "...so, you're the hero; have you noticed?"
I really want to hear your analysis of the two Malfoys and see if they worked for you.
Recs, recs, recs...
There are actually a few candidates, but I think I'm going to have to go with The End is Nigh by omniocular. It's on LJ and easily findable using Google.
Ginny is bored and alone once all of her brothers are off at school. Molly was hoping to be able to teach her the 'womanly arts', but Ginny can't think of anything less interesting... so she falls in with the only other wizarding child of her age around: Luna Lovegood, from Random House.
This story was a delight. I can't imagine what made me initially read it, because I think poor Ginny is often writtten so poorly I want nothing to do with her. However, I'm very glad I did. Little Ginny is full of personality, very real and very flawed. And the side-plot will have you in stitches, when it doesn't have you scared out of your mind. Go read, go read, go read, immediately. Warning: the *deeply* pious may be offended. Gen, rated G or PG. For pure goodness.
Til next time,
-K