Chapter 33: Ginny's revenge

Harry made sure to take the closest seat to the door. Draco had managed to slip away from him after breakfast and after Transfiguration, but now Harry had a clear view of Draco's back next to Ron's at the Gryffindor table. Ginny's hair shone red through the breach between their shoulders and the pile of books on the bench betrayed Hermione's close proximity. Should they start to move towards the exit, Harry would be there first.

The bowls strewn with sticky parsley leaves started vanishing from the tables, and a piercing cling-clang sounded over the great hall. McGonagall rose from her chair, and her teaspoon turned back into a wand.

"Dear students! As you certainly realise, a very special day is approaching. On Sunday, the second of May, it will be a year since a battle fought in our school, in this hall, decided the outcome of the war. Hundreds of witches and wizards would like to come back to this place, to remember the fallen and to celebrate the victory."

Heads turned to the Gryffindor table and Ron's hand landed heartily on Draco's shoulder.

"We will not deny them our hospitality. On the second of May, Hogwarts will hold a sizeable celebration, and we will need your help in the preparation for the event. Your heads of houses will approach you with tasks appropriate for your level of magical skill."

The Great Hall filled with excited chatter. Draco's shoulder, now abandoned by Ron's hand, jerked upwards. Presently, Harry stood in his way to the exit.

"Malfoy!"

"Potter," Draco breathed out defeatedly.

"Now."

Draco threw a glance to Ron, Hermione, and Ginny, who were rising from their places and dividing Hermione's pile of books between them to carry.

"Are you sure we shouldn't wait until after the match?"

"We've waited too long already."

Draco shrugged with a doomed expression. "All right."

"Come on. Don't look like you're on the way to the gallows. We're not telling it to the whole school yet."

"No? Oh, I thought you wanted to steal the show from McGonagall."

McGonagall was back in her chair, flanked by Flitwick and Benveniste. They were talking and throwing unsettling looks in their direction.

"Next time. After Ginny, McGonagall will be a cakewalk."

Ginny marched up the aisle, Ron and Hermione in her wake.

"You have to do the talking." Harry said. "They won't listen to me."

"Right." Draco stood shoulder to shoulder with Harry. Ginny stopped in front of them with a question on her face. Ron and Hermione pulled up on both sides. "We need to talk."

Everyone tensed up. Hermione's brain gears spun and ground behind her frown. Ginny glanced suspiciously left and right between the two of them.

"Mr Potter!" Harry and Draco jumped at the sound of McGonagall's voice. Flitwick and Benveniste stood at her side. Flitwick looked enthusiastic and Benveniste reluctant.

"Mr Potter." McGonagall's features softened, and the stern chill gave way to a strange dreamy expression that foreboded nothing good. "It's been a year, but we'll never forget, I'll never forget,"—her voice hitched and she blinked frantically—"You are"—she cleared her throat, and looked at Draco. "You are the Hero of Hogwarts, Mr Potter, whether you like it or not. The whole wizarding Britain will be looking at you. The members of staff and I"—McGonagall glanced at Flitwick, while Benveniste stared resolutely at the door—"would like to ask you to address the people. It will mean a lot to them, to all of us, not only to see but also to hear you on the second of May."

Draco's cheeks fell in as if he'd lost half his weight right there.

"You want me to give a speech?"

"It doesn't have to be long! A few words from your heart is all people want to hear."

"I— I don't think so." Draco made a step back but fell into Ron's outstretched arm.

"Hey, mate! You can do it!" Ron's hand landed on Draco's shoulder again.

"Of course, you can! Remember your Snape speech at— erm"—Hermione glanced nervously at Harry—"the trial."

"You have almost three weeks to decide," McGonagall said warmly. "No hurry."

"And you, Mr Malfoy," McGonagall lowered her voice and gestured for Harry to come aside. 'Don't leave without me!' Harry shot an unspoken dagger at Draco, but Draco only stared back at him like Harry was supposed to pull him out of Fiendfyre again.

McGonagall regained her formal composure.

"You are very welcome to attend the celebration, Mr Malfoy. If I were you, I would see it as a chance to send a message to the community that you have distanced yourself from your old ways. But if you are worried about your safety, Professor Benveniste and Professor de Charnay have kindly offered to stand by your side, in case there are any," McGonagall pulled a stern face, "disturbances."

It would have never occurred to Harry to be worried about his safety on such a day. But he was still pretending to be Draco Malfoy. Benveniste stopped staring at the door, and fixed him with her gaze. No. He couldn't tell McGonagall yet. He first had to tell Ron, and Hermione, and Ginny. They were waiting for him.

"Thanks, Professor." He turned on his heel and followed them out of the hall.


"McGonagall's right. It will mean a lot to—"

"No way!" Draco cut off, as they marched across the lawn.

"Why not?"

"I'll tell you why not. As soon as you all sit."

"Don't be silly. We can talk now."

"Sit!" Draco pointed at a group of large stones.

"We're not your dogs," Ron said, lowering himself reluctantly onto a flat piece of rock.

"Sorry," Draco groaned and dug his fingers into a heap of black hair that had thwarted an attempt at combing. Harry sat on a stone next to him.

"So? What was it you wanted to talk about?" Ginny said, when everyone had sat in a circle for a good half minute and Draco was still steadying his breath.

Harry was losing his patience too. "We—"

"You two are together?" The words fell out of Hermione's mouth like a well-sucked boiled sweet that got in the way of something more important on the tongue's agenda.

"Two?!" Ron sniggered. "Why didn't you bring the Hufflepuff, for the complete set?"

"He's in the hospital wing," Hermione murmured into his ear.

"Oh. Poor Arling! What did you do to him?" Ron said, venom seeping through an honest attempt to seem nonchalant. What he had against Ewen, Harry had no clue. Was he still angry that it hadn't worked out with Ginny? Was he opposed to three-way relationships? Or was it all because Malfoy was in it?

"Look, we'll explain everything, if you just," Draco finally found his voice, "let us set it straight."

"Yes, straight is the word!" Ron commented with a sour face.

"Let them speak, will you?" Hermione punched his side energetically. Ron's face didn't turn any sweeter, but he did shut up.

"We are not together. We are," Draco said, "each other."

"What?"

"I am not Harry Potter. I am Draco Malfoy, and Harry Potter is here."

Ron's eyes followed the direction of Draco's hand.

"If you think you can beat Fred and George to that prank, forget it. You don't even look similar."

"It's not a prank! Ron, listen!" Harry couldn't stay silent anymore, and the vehemence that he put into saying Ron's name moved something. Ron's eyes pierced him from under a tense frown.

Harry gave a brief retelling of their accident with the locket, stacking raw facts like meat on a skewer. Malfoy would have given it a quick roast, to create at least an appearance of something edible, but Harry wasn't good at sweetening the bitter.

"It happened when you were in Albania, and I came back to London after—" He glanced at Ginny and a flash of old resentment burst aflame in his chest. "After you left without a word."

"Pardon?" Ginny whispered, raising her wand. "When?!"

"Ginny, no!" Harry swayed aside and Ginny's hex missed him by an inch. "Listen! You can hex me in a— in two minutes, okay? But just listen first, will you?" Ginny's fingers tightened around the wand. "Yes! Then!"

Three silent faces looked at Harry, and his heart dropped into his stomach. Something that he was so used to seeing in their eyes was gone. Forever? The empty space where his heart used to be grew an icy crust.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Ron said. "Why didn't you tell Ginny?"

"I know, I should have, and I'm sorry!" What else could he say? "But..." Harry met Ginny's eyes. "I needed a break, too!"

Ginny didn't flinch. No, she was not a Basilisk, and not a boa constrictor. A king cobra stood before him, ready to strike.

"Oh my god!" Hermione whispered.

"A break, you say?" If Ron wasn't confined to a single body he would be cursing, hitting, and leaving at the same time. If there were a door, he would have slammed it in their faces. "You needed a fucking break! Of eight months! Hermione read half the library on depression, dissociative identity, and eating disorders, and you were just having a break?!"

"We thought you were struggling with your sexuality," Hermione put in.

"I was!"

"Why didn't you just tell us?"

"I wasn't ready to talk about it."

"So you send Malfoy to do the talking for you?"

Harry halted. How much talking had Malfoy actually done on his behalf?

"Don't worry, I aborted all attempts to discuss the subject," Draco said. "So the net effect is the same."

"The net effect," Ginny said coldly, "is that I was naked in front of him!" She pointed her wand at Draco and a few fiery sparks fell on the ground.

"What?!" Harry hoped he had misheard it.

"Half-naked!" Draco got to his feet and behind the rock he had been sitting on. "First of all, not naked but half-naked, second of all, not in front of me but behind me. And last but not least, I was bound up and you had a whip!"

"What?!" Harry searched his memory. Had Malfoy told him? At the best of times, his report could not have been very detailed. As much as Harry tried to resist it, the vision of Ginny, half-naked, with a whip, materialised in his mind and touched some string that hadn't sounded a while.

"Shame I didn't do it!" Ginny said.

"Ron, we'll be late for Potions," Hermione said, standing up.

"Shame indeed!" Ron wasn't too interested in potions. "And what now? Have you had enough of your break? Back from a holiday in the Slytherin house?"

"It wasn't a holiday!" It was hard work! Harry gave a summary of their attempts to find out how the locket worked. "We hoped we would quickly find a solution, but..."

"For all we know, we might stay like this for the rest of our lives," Draco finished.

Three silent faces again. The news took time to sink in.

"Oh my god!" Ron groaned.

"You must tell McGonagall! You are not going to let him," Hermione pointed at Draco, potions forgotten, "speak for you at the anniversary!"

"No one is going to speak at the anniversary!"

"No one's asking you, Malfoy!" Ron cut in. "It's for Harry to decide."

"And what about your N.E.W.T.s now?" Hermione picked up her books. "You're not going to write exams for each other! You must tell McGonagall!"

"We will! But please," Harry was ready to beg, implore, and kiss the hem of their robes, "please," his eyes met Ginny's again, "let us do it. Don't tell anyone else yet! We didn't even have a chance to think properly about— We might still—"

Harry made a move to follow Hermione to the castle. For one short silly moment he even thought he would make it to Potions unscathed.

"Harry. Come here." Ginny indicated the spot in front of her with her wand. "You forgot something."

Through the flapping of the wings, Harry could vaguely hear the clock strike quarter to two, between Ginny's second and third Bat Bogey.

'Be easy on Draco,' he wanted to say, when she finally turned her attention to the figure hurrying up the path in the distance, but all that came out was a black cloud of bats.


Draco didn't mean to, but broke into a run. He heard the steps approaching from behind, but managed to slip into the Entrance Hall before being cursed. The closer he got to the Potions classroom, the more witnesses there would be of Weasley's domestic violence and the more chance she'd inadvertently hit someone else. At the top of the stairs he collided with Terry Boot.

"Hey, Harry! No hurry. Myrtle has flooded the dungeons. Potions is not happening."

All right. It would have to happen here, but he wouldn't surrender without a fight. Ginny was only half a hall and a couple of confused classmates away from him.

"Protego!" And Ginny's Expelliarmus broke into a host of red sparks. "If this is how you always solve your—"

Draco didn't get to finish the sentence. Ginny got around his shield, he leaped to the side, a jet of light whizzed passed his ear, and someone else's wand flew into Ginny's hand.

"I thought you guys were done." Boot pressed himself into the wall and—

"Stupefy!"

—was edging out slowly out of the fire zone.

"Expelliarmus!"

"Protego!"

"You fucking bastard!"

What if he was? Draco was holding his shield, but Ginny was spiralling in closer and closer. Slughorn's face emerged behind her back.

"Merlin's beard! Fascinating!"

Ginny was now so close, the shield charm was useless.

"Expelliarmus!" they shouted in unison and their wands locked. Two jets of red light met and a knot of sparks, spilling as far as Slughorn's wet socks, buzzed and shuddered in the middle.

"The book! Give me back the book!"

"I can make you a copy if you want..."

They were moving in a circle. A row of faces—Slughorn, Granger, Boot, Parvati—was sliding past in the background, hazy in the red glow.

"I gave it to him, not you!" The jet of light from Ginny's wand thickened.

"Oh well, I paid dearly."

"You paid fuck all!"

The power of the last two words struck like a wave over Ginevra's shoulder into her wand, and the sparkling knot moved closer to Draco.

"Our Potty's been naughty,
in full he will pay,
or Weezy will freezy
his willy away."

Peeves dashed across Draco's line of sight, and almost broke the connection between the wands. When Weasley came into view again, the angle had changed, and the fountain of red sparks now spurted inches away from Draco.

Peeves cackled above them. Something green and rectangular was levitating next to him. Oh no. Myrtle, only god knew how she could do it without arms, took a swing, and the wet sponge smacked Draco in the face.

That did it. His wand burst out of his hand, and the last red spark burned a hole in his sleeve.

"Ginny! No! Let's t—" An invisible wave hit him in the face, he fell backwards, and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Langlock. Shit! Where was McGonagall when you needed her?

"Miss Weasley! That was a spectacular duel," Slughorn was a wimp next to McGonagall, "but don't you think—?"

Was it Myrtle again? Water spurted into his face and gushed all around him as Draco tried to stand up. Three against one was unfair! Peeves was dancing, Myrtle charged at him in an attempt to give a passionate kiss, Weasley stood above Draco, her wand raised. Next, all he saw was a bolt of blinding light, but was it some new technique Peeves came up with, or was it the combined effect of ghost and poltergeist? The beam broke in Myrtle's outstretched arm, ricochetted off Peeves's flabbergasted face, and a body fell with a splash onto the flooded floor.

Draco's tongue came unstuck, and he clambered back to his feet. Ginevra lay in the puddle, if Ginevra was the right word for it. Her face was split in two. One half was attached to her elbow, the other nested between her breasts, an occasional toe shone through a heap of red hair. A Picasso.

"Fkymlfy," uttered one half of the mouth.

"Thannnnk you!" Draco freed his wand from a hand that grew out of Ginny's neck.

"Oopsie whoopsie..." Peeves hovered above the scene, dissatisfied with the outcome.

"Take this!" Myrtle shouted and something large and gleaming flew across the hall.

Whoosh! BANG!


The next thing Draco saw was bats fluttering under a white ceiling, and he inhaled the unmistakeable smell of the hospital wing. Potter sat on a stool at the foot of his bed. Granger stood next to him.

Draco moved his toes, his fingers, and traced the inside of his mouth with the tip of his tongue. All the teeth seemed in place.

"Th' bats?"

"Oh, those," Potter looked apologetically, "those are mine." He was still red and scratched around the nostrils. "I was lucky. Pomfrey fixed me just before they brought Ginny. You have to wait for your turn, I'm afraid."

"Wha' happen't'her?" Draco tried to sit up, but his shrunken brain banged loosely against his skull like a heavy clapper against the inside of a huge bell. Granger pressed him back to his pillow with a jerk of her wand.

"Lie still. You have a concussion. You got an armour suit on your head."

"Granger," Draco was surprised how clear that word came out of his still rather confused mouth. After seven months of Hermione, Granger was such a relief! "Touched." Draco concentrated to bring his tongue in position. "Bu' whathe cuff— washafuff— wha—"

"What the fuck I am doing here?"

"Yeah." Draco concentrated again. "Whyn't you hover'ver Weasley?"

Granger and Potter exchanged glances.

"Ron's not letting anyone near her!" Potter said. "He's a bit... edgy?"

"Murderous," Granger gave her version of the ending.

The curtain around his bed was open, but from his position Draco could only see a bustling commotion near one of the neighbouring beds. The bent back of Madam Pomfrey, Flitwick's neck sticking under her arm, the big brother overhanging the scene, and Boot's scared face on the other side.

Draco closed his eyes. His head throbbed like a bludger was loose inside his skull. He wished they would all vanish.

"Everyone's here! What a merriment!"

Draco's eyes flew open instantly. Ewen's voice came weakly through the busy murmur. He stood in the middle of the room, his blindfolded face turned to a random point in space, his hands touching the air around him.

"Hey, be careful!" Potter rushed to Ewen, and on impulse, Draco made a move to sit up, but a bang of pain threw him back against the pillow.

"No worries, no worries. Just training my inner eye in spatial orientation."

"Does it work?"

"Honestly, it's pants. But I've kind of figured out the way to the bathroom."

"I can take you to the bathroom," Potter said too promptly.

Draco wanted to scream. His whole body ached with helplessness.

"Oh, that's not a priority. Can you take me to Draco?"

Next second, Ewen sat on the edge of his bed. Draco lost the sense of time for a moment, or for an hour, he couldn't tell. Their thighs touched and something warm in his chest eased the pain.

Draco hadn't noticed when Granger had left their company. Now she was trying to sneak on the consilium above Ginny's bed, but her disgruntled face did not suggest anything positive.

"They won't tell us anything yet," she said, once back.

"It doesn't look too good," Ewen said.

"How do you know?"

"Don' assstupid questions, Ganger!" That one was almost good!

"Pomfrey'll need some time to puzzle her back together."

"How long?" Draco and Potter asked in unison, and Draco was sure they were thinking exactly the same thing.

"Mmm, three weeks?"

"Ha."

"Fuck!"

"What 'ha'?" Granger looked at Potter like he'd just called her a mudblood.

"It's Gryffindor–Slytherin. Next Saturday. Quidditch," Ewen said with an innocent smile.

"Quidditch? QUIDDITCH?! Ginny is injured and that's what you're thinking about?! And then 'ha'? What happened to you, Harry?" That look in Granger's face—Draco knew it—the forerunner of a coming punch. "You're not each other! You're both Draco Malfoy!"


Hours later, when Pomfrey finally had a minute to spare for Draco, she confirmed Ewen's prognosis. She also put Draco's brain back in place, and he walked out of the hospital wing on his own feet, tired but cheered up by a sound portion of Ewen's exclusive company.

But the thought of the upcoming match slowly encroached on his revived mental faculty, and by the time Draco arrived at Gryffindor Tower, he had had four troubling realisations: First, he would have to play Seeker; second, for Gryffindor; third, against Slytherin; and fourth, after delegating it for more than two years, he stood no fucking chance against Gibbon.

Draco ran up the stairs, into his dorm room, and was about to let the pillow sort his thoughts out for him, when...

"Expelliarmus!"

Not again! His wand was gone in an instant, he stood pinned to the door, and Weasley's wand pressed against his throat.

"Okay, Malfoy, before you go on breathing, I want you to understand this. I don't know what kind of poison you've clouded Harry's mind with. The only reason I'm not going to McGonagall, or better yet to Robards, is because Harry begged me not to. He is your god and saviour, and you should pray to him on your knees."

"Who does what to whom on his knees is between me and Potter. You have no say in it, W—"

A heavy fist crashed on Draco's stomach and aborted the airflow.

"You have no say in anything at all! You're a Death Eater and a murderer, and you paid fuck all!"

Draco stopped coughing and managed to pull in some oxygen.

"Oh, I'm paying through my nose!"

Weasley's eyes narrowed to a point of near complete closure.

"What? I thought we'd settled it. Or have the Goblins failed to fit my Galleons into your vault?"

"Your dirty Galleons will never settle it!"

"If you don't like my Galleons—"

But Weasley shoved his fist under Draco's ribs again, and for a few moments getting air into his lungs was more urgent than getting words out.

"Second, if you lose me the next match I'll out you straight on the Quidditch pitch, and won't even look at Harry!"

Oh, that's what it was all about! It was good to know they were all on the same page.

"Or should I do it before the match?" Weasley's gaze shifted, as if he could not decide whether it was Draco's right or left eye that he hated more. "Slytherin against Slytherin, doesn't sound right to me."

"I've won two matches for Gryffindor!"

"You?! Ginny won them!"

"Yes. And who insisted on making her Seeker? You wanted me in that position, remember?"

"And now you conveniently got rid of her when it's time to play Slytherin."

"I got rid of her? She got rid of herself! Tell your sister she has a violence issue."

Weasley's wand dug deeper into his skin. Draco almost choked. The air worked its way heavily through his throat.

"You know what your problem is, Weasley? You Gryffindors care too much for your buddies, and that's the root of all corruption. Now, I just want to win. With whatever means available. And if that happens to be a bunch of Gryffindors, I'll win with a bunch of Gryffindors. Any more questions?"

Had he just promised to win the match? The moment it came out of his mouth, it didn't feel like plain bullshit. Now that it was out, it shone back at him in all its ridiculous absurdity.

"It's your last chance, Malfoy." Weasley backed off.

Draco took a deep breath. One thing was clear. It was time to move out of this dorm.