JUNE 8th, 1997
Ginny was holding a book, but she couldn't get herself to focus. Her brain was overloaded. Too much information and no easy way to sort out what was important and what wasn't.
Malfoy was holding her, of course. He had started a new book, but just like the last one, he had enchanted it so that she wasn't able to read any of the words. This one was older, old enough that the thick pages had been yellowed by time. Something Hermione would have been excited to get her hands on, no doubt.
Where was Hermione now? Malfoy had said she was safe. Ginny hoped she was at the Burrow; Hermione had spent the better part of the last few summers with the Weasleys, and Ron always did better when she was around.
Imagining them all together made her bitter, though. She tried so hard to not let her thoughts go in that direction, but it was like trying to ignore a Bludger flying right at her. It had been over a month. She hadn't heard any word of any break-in attempts or Ministry raids on either Voldemort's headquarters or on the manor. No spies, no communication attempts, nothing.
And she didn't want there to be any of those things. Not really. They would certainly get captured, injured, or killed doing that, and she couldn't leave Malfoy anyway- he had been incredibly specific in that regard. She wanted her family to be safe. They deserved to be safe and happy.
But didn't she deserve that too?
She was so tired of fighting.
They had left her here. She was alone. In her tower, as Malfoy would say.
Maybe it was a good thing this wasn't a fairy tale. She briefly imagined Harry in a full suit of armor running toward the manor's hedges and being consumed by flames. No, it was better that he wasn't here. Better that she didn't have to see.
The morning sun was streaming in through the long windows, and if she listened, she could hear a bird singing outside. It was a beautiful late spring day, highlighting how oblivious the rest of the world was to the girl trapped in a tower, held hostage by a dragon. No one was coming. The world had moved on.
She put her book down.
"All done with that one?" Malfoy asked.
"I think I'm done reading for the day," she said.
They hadn't been in the library very long. "Well I'm planning to be here for a couple of hours. Are you sure you don't want another book?"
"No, I'm just going to rest for now."
Malfoy shifted under her. "Alright."
She laid her head on his chest and felt him momentarily tense beneath her before relaxing again.
Always so odd.
But was it even worth puzzling over? Part of her screamed yes, yes, there was nothing more important than this, he was her captor for Merlin's sake, she needed to understand him. Another part reminded her that he was going to do what he wanted regardless, and making sense of his behavior did nothing to change it- her best effort could be spent on giving him what he wanted, whatever that was, and not wasting energy trying to puzzle him out. Still another part admonished her that this was all a distraction from her true mission with Alys, and for all she knew, she held the key to destroying Voldemort inside her and she was letting herself get sidetracked by Malfoy's antics, which were horribly unpleasant but didn't compare at all to the mass murders and tortures she could possibly prevent.
Another part just wanted to take a bubble bath in a great big tub.
That part felt the biggest right now. She turned her head and looked outside. A beautiful late spring day. She had been outside twice since she had arrived here, and both times it had ended in complete disaster. She wanted to feel the sun on her skin, but asking to go outside again felt like tempting fate. She desperately needed a quiet day. A real quiet day.
"What's on your mind?" Malfoy asked.
"It's a beautiful day outside."
He looked up from his book for a moment. "It is. We could go outside later, if you want?"
"Up to you."
"Do you want to?"
"I don't know."
"Hmm. Well, think about it, I guess."
"Alright."
She pulled the blanket up higher, intending to take a nap, but she couldn't quite fall asleep. She mostly just stared outside and let her mind drift.
Like a cloud.
It worked for a while- letting herself feel empty and blank. But try as she might to stay that way, her mind eventually filled the void with Malfoy's voice.
Always mad at me. I deserve it. My punishment.
Why would he say that? He had forbidden her from saying it, reacted so strongly against the idea that she needed to be punished.
Her mind flashed on the cuts on his arm.
What was he punishing himself for? It didn't make sense. Punishment implied guilt for something, and he certainly didn't have any of that. His smug face this morning had been the picture of self-assuredness, of ego and pride and entitlement.
I just fucked everything up. Like I always do. God fucking damn it!
Well, maybe he did. But guilt about what? He had "fucked everything up" by telling her... what? That he wanted other people to think he had done more than he had? And she wasn't supposed to know that? But why? In case she embarrassed him in front of the other Death Eaters?
Do you know how many people would love to be in my position? I need to firmly stake my claim.
She shuddered as she remembered the crowd of Death Eaters behind her, screaming for the blood traitor to be punished for insulting their lord.
"What's wrong?" Malfoy asked.
Of course. He always noticed.
"I was just... remembering," she said, trying to give a truthful answer without going into too much detail.
"Remembering what?"
Ugh.
"The other Death Eaters. The night this happened." She lifted her left arm, even though it was covered by her robe sleeve.
"Oh," he said. "Yes, that was a bad night."
"Bad night for me or bad night in general?" she asked, unable to resist.
He scoffed. "Bad night for you. I'd say that was a very good night for me, seeing how things turned out."
"I suppose so," she said, disappointed despite everything. Why had any part of her hoped for a different answer?
He ran a hand loosely through her hair, holding up his book with the other. "What made you remember that right now, as opposed to any other time?"
"I think they might be more dangerous than you are."
His hand froze. "What makes you say that?" he said, his voice cold.
"I think it's more true than not true that you don't want to hurt me," she said. "Not 100% true, but more true than not. You're going to do what you want, but you don't want to beat me, for instance. You could, but you don't. I was thinking about what these last few days could have been like if..." She struggled with how to word it. "If You-Know-Who had chosen someone else."
He ran his hand through her hair again. "You're right," he said in a soft voice, all the coldness gone in an instant. "You're safer here with me than with anyone else. The Dark Lord sees the wisdom in that- there's no reason for you to be beaten."
Ginny stiffened, fire sparking back to life at the word reason. "But if there was, you would do it, right?"
"If there was, I doubt you would have ended up with me to begin with."
"That doesn't answer the question."
"I can't imagine any circumstance where there would be reason to, so the point is moot. The tattoo takes care of that."
"You could have beaten me for trying to escape. But you didn't."
"And what would that have done? Certainly not endear you to your new home."
Ginny started to sit up but Malfoy pulled her back.
"I didn't say you could sit up."
"I hate you."
You wanted a quiet day! part of her screamed in frustration. Stop doing this!
"I'm well aware," he said drily. "And here I thought you were starting to appreciate me."
"I don't want to be endeared to anything," she seethed.
"Again, I'm well aware. And yet, I will continue to provide you with the lifestyle I am accustomed to. Generous of me, no?"
"Very," Ginny said sarcastically. Malfoy laughed.
"One of my many virtues."
"Yeah, you're just full of those," she muttered. He laughed again.
"Glad to see you're feeling better, Weasley."
"What?"
"After this morning. You get quiet when you aren't doing well. You fighting back tells me you're doing better."
Ginny pulled on her face in frustration. "Can you please just tell me what you want so I can give it to you?"
"What?"
"I fight back and you want me to stop, I stop and you want me to fight back. Make up your mind. I'm tired of getting it wrong."
Malfoy was quiet for a moment as he played with her hair. "I want," he said with deliberate slowness, like he was carefully choosing each word, "for you to be happy here, and to adjust to this new life. The Dark Lord has work for both of us to do, and we will do it when the time comes, but outside of that... It's like I told you before. Life is hard enough without denying yourself every scrap of pleasure it offers you. And I intend to give you many pleasures, as I think I've shown. There's a difference between you saying something snarky to me and you actively resisting my authority. I can't allow you to resist me, but I want you to still be you."
Ginny thought those two things were probably mutually exclusive.
"I know I'm not always consistent," he continued, surprising her. "That's my work to do, and I am striving to be better. But that's the difference- general sass versus active defiance."
Ginny didn't know what to say to that.
"How I treat you in private will also be different from how I treat you in public," he said once it became apparent that she wasn't going to say anything. "Since you want some understanding of my expectations. As you pointed out, you likely would have gotten a very different reception in someone else's home. The Dark Lord doesn't make mistakes, but any jealous Death Eater out there vying for a bit of power or prestige would love nothing more than to discredit me and offer themselves up as a substitute."
"Why?" she blurted.
"Because you're about to be the most famous witch in Britain," he said. "The symbol of the Dark Lord's power, even though that won't be evident at first. Being very publicly adjacent to that is a dream for any Death Eater, even the ones who wouldn't have looked twice at you before this."
She tucked in on herself a bit, and Malfoy stroked her shoulder.
"I obviously like the position I'm in, and very much want to keep you and to stay in the Dark Lord's favor," he said. "I am a loyal servant to him, but I can't give the others any opportunity to attempt to tarnish my reputation. So can you sass me in public? No. But at home we can be a little more... relaxed. Does that make sense?"
"Yes," she said automatically. Did it make sense? Apparently so, to some part of her brain.
"Good," he said. "So if you want to stay with me rather than go to... I don't know, Mulciber or someone like that, I would recommend you behave. Or Crabbe, if the Dark Lord wants to pick someone young for image's sake. You heard Crabbe asking about the tattoo."
"Gross."
He laughed. "Remember that the next time you want to bite my head off."
"How would a substitute even work? You said you didn't know what would happen to the tattoo if you..."
Died.
"To be honest I'm not sure. But I don't ever want to be in a position to find out, and you don't either, and I think you're beginning to recognize that. So, in summary: obey me without making me use the tattoo, as much as you can. Accept what I give you and enjoy it, as much as you can. You can be yourself in private, but need to be nothing but respectful and submissive in public. Is that something you think you can do?"
"I don't know."
"Can you try?"
"I guess."
"What an enthusiastic endorsement."
"You wouldn't be enthusiastic either, if the situation were reversed."
"You underestimate my desire for self-preservation."
"Seeing as dying is literally impossible for me, I'm not sure I have one of those."
"There are plenty of things worse than death. You know that."
She did know that.
She leaned back against him, suddenly tired again. He kissed the top of her head.
"If Potter could see you now, do you think he would want you to be miserable?"
"He would want me to fight back."
"And once it became clear that that wasn't going to work, what then?"
"To not give up."
"And what does not giving up look like, if you can't fight back?"
"Wait for help," she whispered.
"And if help wasn't coming?"
He had said it. The thing she had dreaded.
"I don't know," she said softly. "He wouldn't think such a thing was possible."
"Would he want you to be in pain or not in pain?"
"Not in pain."
"Would he want you to feel better or feel worse?"
"Feel better."
"There you go then. You aren't betraying anyone- you don't have to feel guilty. It's perfectly in line with your Gryffindor sensibilities to obey me and enjoy what I give you."
"Draco why isn't help coming?" she said before bursting into tears. He put his book down and wrapped his arms around her.
"Shh, shh. It's alright. You're too well-protected. They can't find you."
"They didn't think to look here?" she choked out.
"They did. But it was before you came to me. They didn't find anything, obviously. And no one knows where the Dark Lord's headquarters are. It would be suicide for them to break in there, and the manor is too well-protected against intruders- it's been held by my family for a thousand years. No one has ever been able to breach its protections."
"And even if someone d-did come, I couldn't leave a-anyway," she sniffled, lifting up her left arm again.
"That's right. So maybe it's a good thing they haven't tried to break in, hmm? It wouldn't end well for them."
"I don't want them to get h-hurt."
"I know you don't."
"But they're g-going to be," she whispered. "I can't save them."
"Your family's going to be fine."
"No," she said, and held up her left arm.
"If you want, I can do my best to advocate for… where they're placed. Make sure none of them end up with my aunt, for instance."
She twisted around to look at him. "You would do that?"
"For you, yes." His eyes were lighter than normal.
"Do you have the power to do that?"
He laughed. "It's all up to the Dark Lord in the end, but I hold a good amount of favor at the moment. And will have more, when your public debut goes off without a hitch. I can't promise anything, but what influence I do have, I can use, if you want me to."
She grew wary. "What's the catch?"
"No catch."
She stayed silent, trying to read him. He rolled his eyes.
"Fine, the catch is that it wouldn't kill you to be nice to me every once in a while. Happy?"
She hugged him. "Thank you Draco." And maybe for the first time, she meant it.
He stiffened, as he always did in moments where she touched him first, but quickly returned her embrace.
"You're welcome," he whispered.
"I'll be good, I promise," she said into his chest.
"You're already good," he said. "Pure heart, remember?"
Ginny wasn't at all sure that was true, though she supposed it must be if the prophecy had required it. A pure heart. What did that even really mean?
Maybe it didn't matter. What Malfoy- Draco?- was offering was too good to pass up; all her parts could be satisfied at the same time. She could understand his motivations, give him what he wanted, have more time and energy to spend on Alys, and take a bubble bath in a great big tub. And if she couldn't find a way to make the gem work after all, at least she could help her family. She could save them, at least partially, even if they couldn't save her.
The birds were singing outside. Ginny lifted her head up to listen, and Malfoy's eyes caught hers, so light as to almost look like liquid silver. When he kissed her, she kissed him back.
JUNE 9th, 1997
Kathleen tapped her pencil against the paper, frowning a bit. What else, what else?
She closed her eyes, bringing up the third floor corridor where... something had happened. It was like she could see herself walking there, walking with purpose, but then as soon as she rounded the corner... nothing. Her mind filled in the blanks with useless nonsense- History of Magic homework and Weird Sisters lyrics and a recipe for strawberry cupcakes. It was like this part of her memory had been scrambled, tossed around in a skillet with a bunch of random things that didn't mean anything at all.
"She'll be fine, love, don't worry about a thing," she imitated, rolling the sound of the unrecognizable voice around in her mouth. That was the only thing she could get to come through, even after two weeks of trying every spare second she could. She found the mornings were the most productive. Her mind grew tired the longer she poked and prodded at the memories, making it less likely for anything to come through at all.
Every time she remembered anything, she wrote it down, and she had a tidy little list now, but she wasn't sure any of it was actually useful. It painted a clear picture of Malfoy's manipulation of Ginny through Kathleen, but he had been careful never to say what would happen afterward, only that Ginny would be safe.
Look at me. I would never hurt her, do you understand? Never. But there's more at play here than you can possibly imagine... the future of our world. I can't leave it to chance.
Knowing what she knew now, he was clearly talking about You-Know-Who. He was a Death Eater, and had used the cover of them breaking into Hogwarts to lure Ginny away right when everyone else's attention was turned, making sure there was no one she could go to for help.
Other than me, Kathleen thought miserably. Everyone told her it wasn't her fault, and sometimes, Kathleen believed them. But mostly, she just hated herself, hated that she hadn't been strong enough to fight Malfoy off, to give Ginny or Harry or someone some clue that something was horribly, dreadfully wrong.
Ginny was still missing. It had been over a month. What kind of awful torment could she be going through?
Malfoy had said he needed Ginny's help. But help with what? Retrieving the Deathstick? Had any of that even been real?
The times in the library were so fuzzy. She could remember bits and pieces of them, of reading things she knew weren't leading anywhere but encouraging Ginny anyway, of Ginny's alternating frustration and enthusiasm for the work, of her own fatigue with the whole thing. But there were lots of parts missing too. This seemed like it must be the time that whatever Malfoy was hiding, whoever this second person was, had come more into the picture. Her thoughts were mostly clear until they got to the list of books.
The phone rang, and Kathleen lunged to grab it. Her parents were at work, so she was the only one home, but she had been expecting this call.
"Hello?" she said.
"Kathleen? It's Harry."
"Hi Harry," she said. She had owled him a few days ago with her phone number, letting him know she wanted to talk but that it would be easier over the phone.
And the Ministry probably doesn't know how to wire-tap, she thought with a wry smile.
"How are you?" Harry asked.
"I'm... alright," she said, not sure how to answer. "I've been working as much as I can on these memories, but it's difficult. How are you?"
"I'm... alright," he echoed. "Making plans, trying to coordinate things. I wish I could get out of the bloody house, but the Order's been very clear that I absolutely can't leave."
"That's gotta be frustrating," she said, walking into the kitchen to pour herself some orange juice.
"Is that your girlfriend, Potter?" she heard an obnoxious voice say through the phone.
"Fuck off, Dudley," Harry said without missing a beat. "Sorry about that. Anyways- thanks for owling me. I realized after you left that I didn't know how to contact you, and to be honest I wasn't sure you would want to hear from me."
"Why wouldn't I want to hear from you?" she asked, her brow furrowing as she opened the fridge.
"Well, I know the interview with Kingsley was really rough on you, and you were pretty upset at me before that," he said. "For not figuring things out sooner."
She laughed. "Harry, I wasn't upset at you- or not just you, I suppose. I was upset at everyone and everything. I just wished that someone could have figured it out, whether that was you or someone else."
"It should have been me, though," he said. "I totally blew Ginny off multiple times."
"You went to Dumbledore about the Deathstick though," Kathleen said, using her hip to shut the fridge now that her hands were full. "That counts for something."
"I guess."
"I've been thinking about that a lot too. You said he said it's been handled?"
"Yep. No idea what it means though."
"Malfoy said he needed Ginny's help. I can't imagine him having us read about the Deathstick for over a month if it was just completely fake."
"That's what we were thinking too," Harry said. "Me, Ron, and Hermione, I mean. We think that conversation you and Ginny overheard Malfoy and Zabini having was staged, but that maybe Voldemort really was after the Deathstick. Malfoy wanted Ginny to overhear it."
Kathleen closed her eyes, the memory coming back to her. How she had dragged Ginny to a specific aisle to wait, how she had feigned surprise to overhear anything.
"Kathleen?"
"Sorry," she said. "You're right. It was staged. I remember."
"You remember Malfoy telling you to wait for him and Zabini?"
She frowned. "Not... not exactly. I just remember knowing that I needed to take Ginny down a specific aisle and wait. Nothing about who he was going to be talking to."
"Damn," Harry said. Kathleen frowned. She knew Harry wanted her to specifically remember Zabini, that he was convinced that he was the other person in her memories and that he must know something, but she just couldn't. All she could remember was a voice, and not even a very recognizable voice- it could be Zabini's, but she wasn't sure. And the Ministry wouldn't act on something as vague as an disembodied voice, not without Legilimency, and Kathleen's mum had squashed that idea right away.
"I've been taking notes of things I remember," she said. "But I'm not sure any of them are relevant to anything."
"At this point I care less about what Malfoy needed Ginny to do and more about where he- or the Death Eaters- might have taken her. Can you remember anything at all about what he said his plans were, after she left Hogwarts?"
She skimmed her notes.
"Nothing that specific," she said, disappointment heavy in her voice. "I remembered a couple of quotes- it was after the Valentine's Day party and the Imperius was wearing off. He recast it, but he said some things first."
"What did he say?" Harry asked urgently.
"It helps if I imitate his voice," she said, and cleared her throat. "I'm not going to do anything to her. I need her help. But she's not very likely to help me if I just come out and ask, now is she? And then, Look at me. I would never hurt her, do you understand? Never. But there's more at play here than you can possibly imagine... the future of our world. I can't leave it to chance."
"Why does he have to be so damn good at covering his tracks?" Harry said in frustration. "Even in front of you when you were totally under his control he apparently never revealed anything."
Kathleen flinched at totally under his control, but made herself take a deep breath. He couldn't know how his words would affect her. He didn't mean anything by it.
"All I know is that the night everything happened, I had to do absolutely everything in my power to get her to take some notes with her and fly to Godric's Hollow, alone," she said flatly. "The notes were about... a ritual, I think. But he made the book himself- called it special. So it was probably fake."
"Do you remember what the ritual was about?"
"The Deathstick, I think," she said. "But like I said- he made that book himself."
"Maybe some ritual Voldemort gave him?"
"Maybe," Kathleen said uncertainly. "I guess I don't know. But that doesn't feel right."
"You think the whole thing was made up? That there's some other reason we don't know about?"
"I don't know," she said. "It's... fuzzy."
"I know," Harry said, his voice turning more sympathetic. "I'm sorry."
Another memory flashed in her mind, one she hadn't seen before. Malfoy cupping her face in the Astronomy Tower filled her vision.
"I just remembered something! I know. I'm pushing you right to your limits, aren't I? But you did so well. It's almost over now. I know this won't mean anything to you, but I truly am sorry. You didn't deserve any of this. But I couldn't have done all of this without you."
Kathleen started breathing fast.
"Kathleen, are you okay?"
"I... I don't know," she said, fighting back sudden tears. "I think that was right before he wiped the memories. Ginny had left and I- I-"
"It's alright," Harry said. "It's not your fault, I promise it's not. You couldn't have done anything different."
The memories kept flying at her. "Almost over now. Just need to tidy some things up. Legilimens."
"It's not your fault, Kathleen."
"I didn't realize there were quite so many. Maybe I shouldn't have had you report to him instead of me for the last few weeks."
"Him? Who's him?"
A headache like she had never felt before came on without warning. She cried out.
"Kathleen? Kathleen! Are you okay? Say something."
"My head hurts," she whispered, her skull pounding.
"It's okay, just take deep breaths," Harry said. "Don't think about the past. Tell me about where you are right now."
Her vision was blurry, but she tried to make herself focus. "I'm... in the kitchen. Drinking orange juice."
"What does your kitchen look like?"
"It's... small. But cozy. Dark wood cabinets, with gold pulls on the drawers. Old appliances from the seventies, Mum is too cheap to upgrade and Dad is handy at fixing things. Tile floor- greenish colored. Yellow sink."
It was working. The headache was receding.
"Our flat is over my mum's hair salon," she continued. "So sometimes the chemical smell leaks in through the vents. A lot of people would mind it, but I don't. It reminds me of being at home. My room looks out on the main street, and I can see people passing by as they go about their day. It's nice."
"That does sound nice," Harry said. "Like home."
She let out a big breath. "Thank you, Harry. That was scary for a minute."
"Does that normally happen when you try to remember things?"
"Not quite like that. I think because I was talking to someone else, maybe, it was more intense. Your words were similar enough to Malfoy's that it brought back the memory."
"Sorry," Harry said sheepishly.
"Don't be sorry! It helped, even though it hurt," she said with a laugh. "Part of me wishes Mum would just say yes to the Ministry Legilimens. I'm sure it would be an awful experience, but then it would be over, you know? I wouldn't have to keep wracking my brain for something that I'm not even sure is there."
"I can only imagine," he said. "He won't get away with this, Kathleen, I promise. We'll catch him."
"I hope so. The Order is still looking for Ginny?"
"Yep," Harry said. "With Mr. Weasley leading the charge. No luck yet though."
"This is so awful."
"Yeah," Harry agreed, his voice wistful. "We're doing everything we can though. Ginny's strong- I'm sure wherever she is, she's putting up a hell of a fight."
Kathleen chuckled. "I'm sure that's true. I can't even imagine what she must be going through- locked in some dungeon or something."
"Yeah. I think about it all the time. Can't sleep sometimes- I'll just end up staring at the ceiling until sunrise. It's awful not being able to do anything."
"I know the feeling," she said. "Talking about it helps some, though. Can I call you tomorrow?"
"Yeah," he said. "Let me give you my phone number." He gave it to her and she wrote it down on her memory notes. "If someone other than me answers the phone and they won't let you talk to me, just keep calling. The Dursleys still struggle to believe that anyone could actually want to talk to me."
"That's still so funny to me," she said with a laugh. "When everyone in our world would absolutely love to talk to you."
"Well, I don't know about everyone," he said wryly. "For a while I was quite unpopular- remember all those articles in the Daily Prophet?"
"People still wanted to talk to you, even if they thought you were nuts!" she said, laughing again. "I believed you though. Ginny believed you, and that was enough for me."
"Thanks, Kathleen."
"Alright, well I better get going- Mum expects me to come in and work over the summer and I'm gonna be late for my shift at the front desk. Talk soon?"
"Yeah, sounds good. Stay safe."
"You too."
She hung up the phone and took a sip of orange juice, looking down at Harry's number on her notes. She would remember everything, she would. Harry was going to help her. She wasn't alone.
Ginny we'll find you. Hang in there- I'm so sorry.
JUNE 10th, 1997
Days passed. Ginny and Malfoy had reached an uneasy sort of truce. He seemed to have settled somewhere in between his two extremes- not as light-hearted as Ginny knew he could be at times, but also not egregiously awful, which was a welcome relief. He was still Malfoy, but she no longer felt like he was purposely trying to make her as upset as possible, at least most of the time. For her part, she was finding it easier to hold her temper, even in those moments where Malfoy purposely pushed her. The idea of him advocating for her family's relative safety should they ever get captured was a powerful motivator, more powerful than anything he could do or not do to her specifically.
After they had made their second agreement, they had had a leisurely lunch before Malfoy had set her up in one of the many sitting rooms with a record player, a Weird Sisters record (he had sent Tilly out to acquire their entire discography, which Ginny had told him was excessive but she had secretly been giddy about), and her drawing supplies. He had wished her a good afternoon and told her he would come back when it was time for dinner.
Getting to have unrestricted alone time that wasn't focused on solving any big mystery had done her a great deal of good. She had danced around the room for over an hour, blasting the music loud enough that she was certain someone was going to come chastise her for it, but no one did. It wasn't like everything was solved after that, not at all, but she no longer felt so heavy, like her muscles were made of lead. Her head felt lighter too- she had freed herself from trying to figure Malfoy out, which left plenty of room to think about Alys, which in turn meant she didn't feel like she had to spend every free second obsessing about Alys. She could breathe again.
Dinner with his parents that night had been a stilted but overall peaceful affair, and was the first time they had actually successfully made it through the whole meal. Malfoy was more than happy to let her have a luxurious soak in the bath, complete with bubbles and candles, afterward- "as a reward," he said, but Ginny had tuned him out. She had taken to doing that whenever he said something patronizing and it was doing wonders for her psyche.
He had snogged her afterwards, but had been amenable to her request to remain sitting upright. Her feelings were more mixed here- enjoying a bubble bath was one thing, but enjoying snogging her captor? Quite another. And she did enjoy it- the disgust she had anticipated never came, only a pleasant tingling feeling and a warmth in her chest. She tried not to over-analyze it, even though it made her stomach twist in anguish whenever she thought about it. Part of her worried that she was playing right into Malfoy's hands after all, but she contented herself with the fact that she was working on her mission for Alys and she was doing what she could to protect her family from danger. Worrying about anything else was a luxury she couldn't afford.
The next day had been relatively uneventful. Malfoy had stuck to their "morning routine" before escorting Ginny to the music room where an enthusiastic Narcissa had been prepared to teach her the basics of piano. Malfoy had left to do... something, she wasn't sure what, but once the two women were alone, Narcissa had quickly picked up on the fact that Ginny had absolutely no desire to learn to play piano, despite Ginny feigning interest. Rather than being offended as Ginny had feared she would be, Narcissa had taken it in stride, encouraging her to draw or paint instead and just share space while Narcissa played. Ginny had taken her up on the offer, spending the morning sketching the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, which made her heart hurt but also readily occupied her hands and mind- so many details to fill in, after all.
She had realized that afternoon in the library that Malfoy played classical music while reading because it reminded him of his mother, which Ginny thought was kind of sweet. Seeing him as a human being and not a Death Eater was... tricky. Because he was a Death Eater. He was dangerous. She couldn't forget that. But he also sought the comfort of his mother in moments of peace, something so unbearably human that Ginny couldn't help being struck by it. The sweetness of it was tempered by the knowledge that Ginny was unable to seek that same comfort from her own mother and that Malfoy was in no small part responsible for that. If she even brought up her mother, she knew he would get upset, the ruse of their uneasy peace broken by the reminder that Ginny was not, in fact, a willing occupant of Malfoy Manor.
So she didn't bring her up. She held Mum in her heart, along with Dad and her brothers, and thought of Alys, and yielded to Malfoy's desires, and chose not to think over-much about what that might mean. It would protect the people who mattered most, which in the end was all that mattered.
The only really bad part about the last two days had been Malfoy's continued insistence on looking through her memories. He did it in the morning before starting their day and in the evening right before bed, and nothing Ginny said could dissuade him from doing so. She panicked every time, sure that he was going to find Alys at last, but he never even looked at recent history. The Quidditch memory was by far the most recent thing- everything else was much further back in her childhood, mostly before she even came to Hogwarts. She couldn't figure out what he was looking for, or any particular pattern for why he chose the memories he did, but she supposed that it was better for him to look further back anyway- far away from anything she desperately needed to keep hidden.
"That's actually pretty good," Malfoy said, coming to stand behind her. "It looks just like I remember."
Ginny put her pencil down, studying the sketch of the pitch. "Thanks," she said. "Now that I've sketched it out, maybe I'll try painting it."
"Let's set up your easel in the library- Blaise is coming over soon, you can paint while we talk."
Ginny's stomach twisted at that thought. The last time Malfoy had had any friends over had been unpleasant in the extreme.
At least Zabini is only one person, she thought as she stood up, grabbed her sketchbook, and followed Malfoy out of the sitting room. Who knows, maybe I'll learn something important.
They arrived in the library, the wooden shelves gleaming beautifully in the afternoon sunlight. Malfoy walked to the windows and waved his wand, pulling the curtains open and laying out a sheet underneath her easel, which unfolded and placed itself at an angle toward the light. Another wave of his wand had a chair floating forward and landing nearby, giving her a comfortable set-up to work.
"Does being in front of Zabini count as being in public?" she asked, unsure of what to expect. If being in front of his parents counted, his friends probably counted, but she wanted to know what she was walking into.
Malfoy frowned, considering. "Somewhere in between, I think."
A grey area. Great.
"Are you nervous?" Malfoy asked as she seated herself in front of the easel.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"The last time you had friends over was not a great experience for me."
"This will be different."
"I hope so."
Malfoy kissed the top of her head before going to sit down on the couch, leaving Ginny to open up her paints. She hadn't opened them before, and Tilly had bought absolutely everything she could think of as far as supplies went.
Did she want to paint the pitch, or did she want to paint something else?
She began priming the canvas, her mind on crows.
That was the only trouble with Zabini coming this afternoon- she was missing out on valuable reading time. She had read more books on Morgana, sure that she had to be heading in the right direction, but other than continued references to crows, she hadn't found anything. No more Alys dreams either. She had told herself that if this last book didn't yield anything promising, she would start looking into mushrooms and see what she could find.
"Master Draco's friend has arrived!" Tilly announced, opening the door to the library. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Malfoy stand up to greet him. She kept her eyes on her work, hoping she could fade into the background. No matter what Malfoy said, adding any variable into their very fragile peace was a risk, and Ginny was in no hurry to disrupt the status quo.
"Say hello, Ginny."
So much for that.
She looked up from her work to see Zabini grinning at her.
"Hello," she said.
"Hello yourself, love," he said. "You're looking much better than when I saw you last."
"We've come to an understanding," Malfoy said, making Ginny grimace. That was true, but when he said it like that it made her skin crawl. Like she was complicit in something.
"What are you painting?" Zabini asked, all interest in Malfoy forgotten as he rounded the couches to look at her easel.
"I'm not sure yet," she said, which was mostly true.
"Well I certainly wouldn't say no to a portrait, if you're looking for inspiration."
Malfoy made a disapproving noise behind them, making Zabini wink at her.
"Or you could paint your lovely beau, seeing as how he's already burning up with jealousy back there."
"I have nothing to be jealous of," Malfoy said in an irritated voice. "Stop bothering her and come sit down."
"Always so grouchy," Zabini said in a stage whisper before winking at her again and walking to join Malfoy on the couches. Malfoy was facing her, his eyes drifting to her face as Zabini sat across from him.
Ginny decided it would be best to ignore them. What had Malfoy said about Zabini? He liked to flirt?
Her heart clenched as she remembered Kathleen. Had he flirted with her like this too? When she was under the Imperius?
She scowled at the canvas. If Kathleen had been in her right mind, she would have told Zabini to fuck off, but without her full faculties… she had probably just had to sit through it. Like Ginny was now.
Don't get mad, she intoned as she felt anger simmer in her stomach. Kathleen is safe and far away from here. And you're… well, not safe, but not in any specific danger at the moment. Just paint.
She took a deep breath and pulled out her paints to begin setting up a palette.
"Any news from the Ministry?" Malfoy asked. Ginny's ears perked up.
"No, thank Merlin," Zabini said, reclining dramatically across a couch. "Whatever you did seems to have done the trick. Not that I ever doubted your wondrous mind powers, of course, but I don't fancy a stint in Azkaban, myself."
"You wouldn't go to Azkaban," Malfoy scoffed.
"For aiding and abetting a Death Eater in a kidnapping? If they'll send someone to Azkaban for breaking the Statute of Secrecy, they'll definitely do so for that."
"They would have to prove it was a kidnapping first."
Ginny squeezed the tube of paint too hard and yellow paint overshot her palette, splattering on the floor. Most of it stayed on the sheet, but some of it got onto the wood.
"How are you this much of a hazard?" Malfoy asked in an exasperated voice as he stood up and vanished the spilled paint. "Don't make a mess, please."
"Sorry," she said through gritted teeth.
Aiding and abetting a Death Eater in a kidnapping. How much had Zabini done for Malfoy, exactly? How much responsibility did he hold for her current circumstances? And as far as proving it was a kidnapping... that was obvious, wasn't it?
I guess he's already trying to spin the narrative that I ran away.
"Well, regardless, I told my mother to have a team of solicitors on standby," Zabini said with an airy wave of his hand. "They already fucked up by questioning me off the record, so should be easy to get things dismissed."
"Good, I guess, but you shouldn't need them."
"Better to have them, in case."
Who questioned him off the record? The Ministry? Or the Order? Kingsley was part of both- maybe it had been him?
"Are you going to Daphne's party?" Malfoy asked, clearly looking to change the subject.
"Of course. Wouldn't miss it for the world. Though I'm assuming you're not."
"No, I have to stay here," Malfoy said with a wry smile.
"What a tragedy for you."
"I wouldn't mind taking her to a party. But I suppose in a couple of months our social calendar is going to be full to bursting- better to take advantage of the quiet time now."
Ginny's stomach twisted. She didn't want to think about that. Another disruption to the thin veneer of peace she and Malfoy had carefully crafted over the last couple of days. How in Merlin's name was she going to get through all of this?
By focusing on what really matters.
Suddenly, she knew what she wanted to paint.
Malfoy and Zabini chattered on for a while, but Ginny mostly tuned them out. She painted a hill, shadowed by a deep twilight, with a giant oak tree rising from its peak. Painting in shadows like this was difficult, but the memory of it was so vivid it was like it flowed right out of her hand and through the brush- its own kind of magic.
"Tilly is sorry for disturbing Master Draco, but Master Draco has received a letter," Tilly said after Apparating into the room.
"A letter?" Malfoy asked suspiciously. "Who would be writing to me now?"
"One of your adoring fans, no doubt," Zabini said. "Oh wait, I guess you don't have any yet. Do you think you'll have to answer fan mail? Because you would be totally horrible at that, you should let me do it for you."
"Shut it, Blaise."
"See? No charm whatsoever."
Malfoy stood up and took the letter from Tilly, who Disapparated with a little bow. He opened the letter while still standing and promptly burst out laughing.
"Our dear friends and family," he read. "We are pleased to formally announce the engagement of Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson. Event details to follow." He tossed the letter on the coffee table and started laughing again. "They didn't waste any time, did they? How did you phrase it? Making themselves unavailable?"
Ginny forced herself to focus on the fact that this meant that none of her brothers would be expected to marry Pansy.
Gross. I can't even believe that's a sentence I actually had to put together.
"Pansy is a pragmatist at heart," Zabini said drily. "And Nott's had feelings for her forever, you've just been too self-absorbed to notice."
"Why didn't he ask her out then?"
"Gee, Draco, I don't know. Why didn't he ask her out? It couldn't be because she's been hanging all over you since third year. Nott is not self-absorbed, unlike you, and realized he was not first choice there. Though I am pretty sure they hooked up in fifth year."
"That's not surprising," Malfoy said. "I knew I couldn't have been her first. Not with the way she acted."
"I'm sure our present company doesn't want to hear about your sexual escapades," Zabini said. "Sorry, Weasley."
Malfoy smirked at her. "She doesn't care, trust me. Not now that the show is all for her."
Gross.
She ignored them as they laughed, focusing on painting a ring of mushrooms around the base of the tree. They were red, with white spots. One of the varieties Alys had collected. The little specks of red contrasted sharply against the dark tones of the rest of the painting.
Almost like blood...
"What about you?" Malfoy asked.
"What about me?" Zabini repeated.
"Do you have your eye on anyone?"
Zabini laughed. "I would think you would know me by now. I have my eye on everyone."
"Be serious."
"But that's so boring."
She could practically hear Malfoy rolling his eyes.
"Fine, keep your secrets. Maybe you'll meet a lovely little blood traitor and settle down."
Ginny's hand gripped her brush.
"Don't think I'll be eligible, mate. I'm not taking the Mark."
Malfoy raised an eyebrow. "You're not?"
"Nope."
"Why?"
"They're a bit ugly for my taste."
Ginny looked at the back of Zabini's head, wishing she could see his face. Did that mean he wasn't entirely sympathetic to the Death Eater cause? Even though he had helped Malfoy for months?
"That's a dangerous position to take," Malfoy said finally.
"Not really. I'm no Mudblood-lover, just don't fancy being a soldier."
Ginny grimaced. Maybe not.
"We'll all be soldiers, after a time."
Zabini shrugged. "We'll see. Isn't this mostly a silent war, anyway? They aren't storming the Ministry, wands drawn."
"No, but if they were ordered to, they would, in a heartbeat."
"We, you mean. Including yourself there."
"Yes. We."
"But I suppose you lucked out with the cushy PR job. No Crucios in your future."
"Preferably not. Not unless it's Potter, I still owe him for these damn scars."
Ignore it.
"Ginny likes my scars though, don't you, love?" he continued with a wink. Luckily, she didn't feel compelled to answer- it had been intended as a rhetorical question.
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that," Zabini said. Malfoy laughed.
She painted a crow flying overhead, angling for the oak tree's branches. Their distinctive caw echoed in her mind, Alys's anguished face flashing across her vision for a moment.
Give me the crows, the cold, and the rain.
Could that be a clue? Ginny hoped not. It was almost summer- they were a long ways off from cold and rain.
Almost unconsciously, she found herself painting Death, skeletal arm outstretched, a bit of gold glowing at its throat where its cloak closed.
"Ginny?"
"Huh? Sorry. What did you say?"
She had spaced out.
"I was asking if you were hungry," Malfoy said. He was eyeing her with suspicion.
"Oh," she said. "I'm okay, thanks."
"Let's see this masterpiece you've been working on all afternoon," Zabini said. He rose with a dramatic stretch from the couch and ambled toward her, Malfoy following in his wake.
She suddenly wanted to hide it. It felt too real, too private.
"Very macabre," Zabini said with a raised eyebrow. Malfoy's face was pale, his eyes on Death. He vanished the canvas, leaving the easel sitting empty.
"Hey!" Ginny cried, spinning toward him in outrage.
"Don't paint this again," he said.
"You never said I couldn't," Ginny said fiercely.
"And now I'm saying you can't. Funny how that works."
It was petty, but Malfoy was being petty first. She picked up her palette, smeared as it was with various paints, and slammed it into his chest, splattering him with paint.
It was like time stopped for a second, their fragile peace broken. Malfoy's face twisted into a sneer as he waved his wand and vanished not only the paint on him, but all of her supplies as well.
"It seems you can't help but make a mess," he said mockingly. "I'll give you these back when I think you're ready."
"Fuck you," she said. "That's not fair and you know it."
He tipped her chin up, his eyes dark. "Is that how you're supposed to speak to me?" he asked softly.
Ginny's jaw was tight. "No," she said without meaning to. Fuck these stupid commands.
"Then I think you should apologize."
She desperately wanted to say you first, but his words echoed in her mind.
Nothing but respectful and submissive in public.
"I'm sorry," she said with deliberate slowness, her breathing a bit shallow. She could feel an angry flush creeping up her neck.
"For?"
"For losing my temper and smearing paint on you."
He winked at her. "Apology accepted, darling."
"Maybe I'll just... go..." Zabini said, taking a step back.
"Nonsense," Malfoy said, his eyes still on Ginny's furious face. "Tilly's going to bring us dinner in a few minutes- my parents know I have company over, so they aren't expecting us. And Ginny apparently needs practice in how to act in front of guests."
Hold your tongue, don't say anything, don't even think it-
"Come along," he said as he turned away from her. "You've lost your privileges, you're going to sit next to me now."
"You know, Draco, if I didn't know any better, I would say you enjoy making her want to murder you," Zabini said as he cast a wary glance between the two and walked back to the couches.
Malfoy laughed as he followed Zabini. "That's a constant, she's just gotten good at hiding it."
The unfairness of it all rankled Ginny but she forced herself to remember their agreement. Were her family's lives worth one stupid painting? Of course not.
Let it go, she intoned as she stood up and walked slowly over to the couches and sat down next to Malfoy. He slung an arm over her shoulder, making her flinch. Zabini tactfully pretended not to see.
"I wish you were going back to Hogwarts," Zabini said, clearly looking for a different subject. "It's not going to be the same without you."
"That's an oddly serious statement, coming from you," Malfoy said, his finger running lightly along Ginny's upper arm.
"This is what I get for trying to be sincere," Zabini deadpanned. "No one ever believes me. Fine, I'll gladly take your place and run the show myself."
"You'll have to tell me what it's like with Snape as Headmaster," Malfoy said. Ginny looked up at him in alarm and he smirked at her. "Oh did I not tell you that? Quite the promotion for him. I believe the Carrows are going to be on staff as well- bringing some much-needed reforms."
The Carrows. Ginny had heard the Order talking about them- they had been part of the mass break-out of Azkaban that the Ministry had tried to cover up. Death Eaters.
"I imagine it will be dreadfully dull," Zabini said. "You know Snape. Wouldn't know a joke if it kissed him."
"I don't know, I imagine he might be a bit different with Dumbledore out of the way," Malfoy said, making Ginny tense further. "It'll be a whole new world. That's what I told you the last time I saw you at school, right?" He looked down at her again.
The memory of hurriedly checking star charts that she now knew Malfoy had altered crossed her mind and her hands tightened into fists.
"Yes," she said because she was compelled to.
"Don't be upset. It'll all be for the better. I'm sure your brother won't see it that way, but he always was a bit thick, no offense. He'll figure it out."
We're getting very close to egregiously awful.
"Speaking of Hogwarts," Zabini said, clearly sensing danger radiating from Ginny's direction, "do I need to avoid Kathleen? What with all the memory work you did?"
"Hmm," Malfoy said as he continued to run a finger along her upper arm. "I'm not sure, to be honest. Probably? Once the Ministry falls, I wouldn't mind fixing them, but I'm sure she wouldn't let me get anywhere near her again."
"A pity," Zabini said with a dramatic sigh. Malfoy laughed.
"See, what did I tell you? He has a crush."
Ginny glowered at him as he scoffed.
"Hardly," he said. "Unlike present company, I can sense where I'm not wanted."
Malfoy's hand stilled. "Careful, Zabini. With your little jokes."
He gave a dramatic wave of his hand. "I meant no offense."
"Could have fooled me."
"Oh come off it, Draco. We're all friends here." He shot a wink at Ginny. "No reason to put on some kind of front. You're the best thing that's ever happened to little Miss Weasley, though she certainly wouldn't agree with me on that, but does she want you to be sitting with your arm wrapped around her? I think we can all infer that the answer is no."
"How do you figure that?" Ginny asked in an icy voice before Malfoy could speak.
"How do I figure what, love?"
"That he's the best thing that's ever happened to me."
Zabini smirked. "Well, there's a number of reasons, but just imagine trying to navigate all of this without him- do you think you'd be sipping tea and painting pretty pictures if Draco wasn't around?"
"That doesn't make him the best thing that's ever happened to me."
"Seeing as you were apparently fated to become immortal- which is just a wild thing for me to be saying, by the way- I think it does. You would have ended up in Godric's Hollow regardless, sooner or later. How fortunate for you that Draco's provided you a soft place to land."
Ginny glowered, though she felt Malfoy relax around her.
"You would be touched to know the lengths he's gone to protect you," Zabini said, and Malfoy tensed again immediately.
"Enough," he said in a sharp voice. "No more."
"Alright, alright. Just thought you deserved an ounce of credit for all your hard work, oh Death Eater extraordinaire."
"I don't need any credit," he said. "I've already been given my reward." He pulled her slightly closer to him.
"And what a sweet reward it is, even if it spends 50% of its time glaring daggers at you."
Tilly appeared at that moment, three plates of steaming food levitating above her head.
"Dinner is served, Master Draco!"
"Set the plates on the table," he said, his eyes not leaving Zabini's face.
I know I said I was done trying to figure him out... but what the hell?
Tilly did as she was ordered. "Let Tilly know if you be needing anything else!" She Disapparated.
"Eat your dinner," Malfoy told her, lifting his arm at last.
She resisted the urge to scoot away and instead picked up her fork.
Him vanishing her painting answered one question- she absolutely could not let him figure out anything about what she was reading or why. She had wondered if she could play it off as a vague interest in what happened that night if he ever questioned her too directly about it, but she knew now with certainty that if he got even a hint that she was looking into the gem, he would take the books away, or maybe forbid her from entering the library altogether. She couldn't let that happen.
I'll have to read something random for a few days. Wait for him to forget about the painting. And come up with a good and true reason for reading them that's also safe to reveal. I have to tell the truth when he asks me something, but not the whole truth.
She felt the compulsion kick in as she opened her mouth, powerless to stop it. "I thought of a loophole."
She clapped her hands over her mouth, her fork clattering against her plate as she dropped it.
"Oh?" Malfoy asked, eyebrow raised. "Out with it then. What is it?"
"If you ask me a question, I have to tell you a true answer, but that doesn't mean it's the whole truth," she whispered, tears filling her eyes as her breathing quickened. She had told him partial truths before, but never literally had the thought of avoiding his command in that way. That was apparently enough to activate his command about loopholes.
"Well-spotted," Malfoy said before taking a bite of food. He chewed and swallowed. "When you answer my questions, you will answer me honestly, with all relevant information. You will not attempt to conceal anything from me when answering my questions. I may supercede this command for specific public appearances, but it always applies in private."
No. I've ruined everything. Everything, everything...
He was going to find out about Alys. He would tell You-Know-Who. They would harness its power, somehow, and destroy absolutely everything.
She bent over double as sobs overtook her.
It's ruined, I failed, I failed-
"Ginny, calm down," Malfoy said, putting his fork down before putting his hand on her back. "What are you-"
"Don't ask me anything!" she yelled. "Don't ask me anything, don't ask me anything..."
"Why are you crying?" he snapped.
"I've ruined everything!" she wailed, and then the world exploded.
JUNE 10th, 1997
Draco was blasted back as a golden sphere of light erupted from Ginny, sending their plates flying along with the coffee table.
"What the fuck!" Blaise yelled, lifting his arm to shield his eyes.
"Damn it," Draco said, cursing himself for being impatient. He should have realized she was too close to a meltdown, but the idea that she had been hiding things from him had him panicked.
He stood up, shielding his own eyes a bit. Nearby books flew off their shelves, pages flapping wildly in the wind that the light generated. Little crackles of lightning arced over its surface, keeping him well away from Ginny's body.
"I take it this is the blow up you mentioned?" Blaise shouted to be heard over Ginny's wails.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's see if I can fix it this time. Ginny go to sleep."
The light dimmed for a second before burning brighter than ever as she screamed.
Fuck.
He did the first thing that came to his mind. He needed to calm her down.
"You're six years old, and your mum and dad just bought you your first ever broomstick," he shouted, trying to keep his tone even despite the volume. "You're ecstatic and can't wait to fly it. Bill takes you outside and watches you fly. You laugh and laugh because you feel completely free."
The wailing stopped, though the light did not dissipate. Draco grimaced- her eyes looked absolutely inhuman this way, glowing like some kind of supernatural creature. He took a step closer.
"You're eight years old, and you're going to your first professional Quidditch match," he said. "Gwenog Jones executes a perfect Dopplebeater Defense against the Chudley Cannons, allowing their Seeker to catch the Snitch. You're jumping up and down, so excited, and giggle to yourself about Ron complaining about the Cannons' loss."
The circle of light shrunk some. Blaise watched him with awe. He took a couple of steps closer, his hands outstretched.
"You're eleven years old, and a great tawny owl arrives at the kitchen window. It's holding your Hogwarts letter," he said, his volume returning to normal now. He watched Ginny inside the light, tucked in on herself, apparently frozen. "Finally, it's here, at last. Just like all your brothers before you- you get to go away to school and learn to be a real witch. You imagine all the adventures you'll have, all the friends you'll make, and you can't wait for it to be September."
The light shrank still further.
"You're fourteen years old, and you've just been made temporary Seeker for the Gryffindor Quidditch team," he said, taking one more step closer. The lightning crackled as if in warning, causing him to pause. This memory was a bit of a risk- less purely happy, but he just had a gut feeling. "Now you can be taken seriously as a player- no more being in your brothers' shadows. Your crowning achievement is beating Cho Chang to the Snitch and winning the Quidditch Cup for Gryffindor."
The light shrank further, but not quite enough for him to touch her. He moved closer.
"You're fifteen years old," he whispered, "and you're in the orchard behind your house, playing Quidditch with Ron, Hermione, and Harry. You're practicing for tryouts. Po- Harry's going to be captain, and he wants to hold tryouts for all positions, so you're helping Ron practice. You're going to be a Chaser this year, the position you really want. You throw the Quaffle, Ron blocks it, and Harry catches it down below you. He smiles at you-" Draco's heart twisted, "-and you're happy. Part of the group at last. You soar up to the sky once he tosses the Quaffle to you, and you're above the whole world. Nothing can touch you now- you're invincible."
The light was just a fuzzy outline around her body now. He could see her chest rising and falling as she breathed in and out light.
"Ginny go to sleep right now."
She collapsed, the light winking out of existence, and he caught her. He let out a deep, shuddering sigh, relief flooding him.
"See?" Blaise said in a dry but shaky voice. "She has absolutely no idea how much you protect her."
"Yeah, protect her from myself, apparently," he said. "Seeing as I caused it."
Blaise looked down at her sleeping form. "Well, apparently you're not the only one with secrets around here. I wonder what our brave little Gryffindor is hiding."
Draco grimaced. Whatever it was, she had been absolutely desperate to keep it hidden. He had to learn what it was- it was too dangerous for him not to know. What if it was something that put her in danger? He couldn't protect her from something he didn't know anything about.
"I'm going to have to find out," Draco said. "But... this stays between us for now."
Dangerous. So dangerous.
"I'm certainly not going to tell anyone," Blaise said, his eyes still on Ginny. "Death Eaters are scary and all, but not like... that."
"Help me set the room right, will you?" He gently laid Ginny down on the couch and stood up. Food was splattered everywhere and books were scattered all across the floor.
"Sure thing." Blaise stood as well, and, together, they waved their wands to bring things back to their proper place.
"It will be a miracle if my parents didn't hear that," Draco said, "but I'll try to pass it off as just a big fight. You'll back me up?"
"Absolutely. The biggest of fights. You ruined the painting she just spent hours on, very rude of you."
Draco grimaced, not able to joke about it. Soon, the room was back in order.
"Well, as thrilling as this has been, I think that's my cue to leave," Blaise said.
"Yeah," Draco said. "Can I Floo call you tomorrow, do you think? Just to prove I'm still alive after I find out whatever the hell this is about."
"Sure thing. No need to have your charming house elf escort me, I know my way out." He looked down at Ginny again. "Good luck, little Weasley. I have a feeling you're gonna need it. Night, Draco."
He left, leaving Draco alone with a sleeping Ginny. His shoulders slumped forward in exhaustion and regret. Things had been going so well for the last few days.
He scooped Ginny up in his arms. She was passed out, but if this was like the first time, she would wake soon. Taking a deep breath, he walked out of the library, closing the door behind him, and walked toward the staircase.
She really does look like a princess, he thought as he ascended the stairs. The setting sun hit her silver robes beautifully.
She murmured one word, then repeated it. Then repeated it again. Draco frowned.
He eased the door to his room open, struggling a bit with the handle with her in his arms, but slid inside. He laid her down on the bed, magically locked his door, and cast an Imperturbable Charm on it for good measure. He didn't know what he was about to hear, but it might very well be something he wouldn't want his father to know.
Was it better to give her space when she woke up? He didn't want her to panic again. He settled for climbing onto the bed next to her and sliding her head into his lap. He stroked her hair as she slept, waiting for her to wake up.
What could she be hiding? He wracked his mind for all the questions he had ever asked her, all the times she may have told "a truth but not the whole truth," but she had been here almost a week at this point. He was constantly asking her questions. It could be anything. Or maybe it wasn't about a question he had already asked, but one she was afraid he was going to ask? What about tonight had made her think of the loophole in the first place?
She moaned a bit in his lap, stirring. He brushed the hair out of her face. She hesitantly opened her eyes, blinking as if she was in bright light.
"Shh, it's alright," Draco said softly. "It's over now."
She squinted up at him, going tense once she came to awareness of her surroundings.
"I know you're upset," he said, "and I don't know why, but I want to fix it. I promise it's true I don't want to hurt you, Ginny, but I have to know what this is about. Who or what is Alys?"