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Finding a Happy Ending | ||||
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Category: The Burrow Secret Challenge (2016-3), The Burrow Secret Challenge (2016-3) Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: General Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: G Reviews: 12 Summary: *** Winner of Most Unexpected in the Burrow Secret Challenge *** The Weasleys play host to a unexpected Christmas visitor. Set during Deathly Hallows. Hitcount: Story Total: 4473 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. |
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Ginny sat on the floor of her tiny bedroom, putting the finishing flourish on Fred’s Christmas gift. When the last ribbon was curled, she placed it on the meager pile of wrapped, homemade gifts. With Death Eaters patrolling Diagon Alley, and her family’s every move being watched, chances for shopping had been nil. These facts, combined with part of her family being Merlin knows where, the Burrow wasn’t filled with holiday cheer. Her mother was giving it her best effort. A small tree had been placed in the corner of the sitting room, decorated in silver and gold baubles. Ginny had helped hang up the few resilient ornaments that had survived her brothers’ younger years. Strands of holly had been strung about, dotted with shimmering stars that bathed the downstairs in a beautiful, warm glow once the sun set. Ginny had watched forlornly as Molly completed the decorations with a sprig of mistletoe over the back door. The only person she wanted to kiss there hadn’t been seen, or heard from, in months. As she started to load her arms up with gifts, a hard rapping on the window made her jump. There was just enough moonlight to illuminate the outline of a grey barn owl, perched outside. Ginny cursed herself for being so jumpy, but then took it back in the same breath. These days everything made her jump. Paranoia and anxiety ran rampant through her mind and body. Ginny opened the window and recoiled at the blast of cold air, holding the promise of imminent snow. The owl tumbled in, onto Ginny’s desk, with bedraggled feathers sticking out at odd angles. A small, barely noticeable scroll was tied to its leg. After relieving the owl of the parchment, it stayed put, obviously awaiting a reply. Ginny brushed back her own disheveled hair and unraveled the letter. Her eyes scanned the jumble of numbers. 1418231318201907 Th ere was no signature, but that wasn’t needed. Ginny knew exactly who it was from and was able to decipher the code in seconds- MIDNIGHT. “Of all nights to do this, he had to choose Christmas Eve.” She placed the letter on her desk. A second later it was nothing but ash. Ginny looked at the clock. Eight-thirty. Her parents would hopefully be heading to bed soon. By midnight, they should be fast asleep and she should have had plenty of time to prepare for her impending visitor. The owl clicked impatiently and nipped at Ginny’s hand. Apparently he wasn’t keen on waiting too long for her answer. “Alright, calm down,” Ginny grumbled, rubbing at the welt forming. She tossed an owl treat to the bird, but it paid the pellet no attention. His gleaming yellow eyes stayed glued to Ginny. She grabbed a quill, dabbed it into the inkwell, and quickly scratched out an affirmation, along with a location, in the same code. She rolled the thin strip of parchment as tightly as possible, cast an enchantment on it, and tied it to the leg of the impatient owl. As soon as the reply was secured the owl took off, quickly vanishing into the darkness. Ginny closed the window, staring out into what had just turned into an endless night. She regathered her gifts and made her way downstairs. Stepping into the kitchen, she was surprised by the rich smell of hot chocolate and her mum’s soft singing of Christmas carols. The thought of hot chocolate was enticing, but it meant delaying putting her plan into action. “Ginny?” her mother called. “Yeah, it’s me,” Ginny answered, putting her gifts under the tree. “I thought I heard an owl earlier. Who was writing you this late?” “No one. Must have been the wind,” Ginny lied. Molly nodded and turned off the cooker. “Hot chocolate, dear?” she asked, as Ginny slid into a kitchen chair. “That sounds nice. Thanks Mum.” Ginny watched as her mother bustled about. “Extra marshmallows,” Molly smiled, setting a steaming mug in front of Ginny. She ran her hand down the side of Ginny’s hair, softly caressing her cheek. Ginny instinctively leaned into her mother’s warm touch. “Is everything okay, sweetheart? You haven’t seemed like yourself at all.” “Yeah, I’m fine,” Ginny replied. “Just happy for a break. It was never going to be the easiest of school years, was it?” “No, it wasn’t,” Molly replied, still gazing a Ginny, with concern written on her face. Her lips were pursed, and her eyes questioning, but she said nothing more. Ginny knew her mother was aware that she wasn’t getting a complete story, but Molly didn’t press any further. She gave Ginny’s cheek a gentle pat, then returned to putting the clean dishes away. Ginny hated keeping secrets from her mum. It’s not like she had never skirted the truth with her parents, but usually it was about if she knew what the twins were up to, or whether she had spent all of her allowance on sweets. This time it was entirely different. This wasn’t a harmless omission of facts. If she was wrong, this secret could undo everything they had worked years to accomplish. If she was wrong, they were as good as dead. Her eyes grew damp, but Ginny fought to hold her composure. The past few months had been spent making sure she wasn’t wrong. And tomorrow she could finally include the others in on her secret. It wasn’t exactly the Christmas morning she had had planned, but, in all honesty, it was never going to be. “Are you ready for bed?” Molly asked, breaking into Ginny’s thoughts. “You know, Father Christmas can’t come until you’re asleep.” Ginny smiled, loving how her mother strived to keep a bit of Christmas magic alive, even though it had been a decade since she stopped believing in Father Christmas. She shook her head, carrying her empty mug to the sink. “I’m not tired quite yet. Think I’ll stay up a bit more and read.” Molly nodded and kissed the top of Ginny’s head. “Not too late,” she gently scolded, before disappearing up the stairs. Ginny listened to the creaks and groans of the floorboards above. Aside from her parents, she was the only one at the Burrow. The twins and Charlie would be coming the following morning. Bill and Fleur had decided, much to her mum’s protests, they wanted to spend their first Christmas, as husband and wife, on their own. Ginny didn’t blame them. She’d probably feel the same way if… No, she wouldn’t do that to herself. Thinking that far ahead felt like her mind was playing a cruel joke on her. She had to stay in the moment, stay focused. Picking up an old copy of Witch Weekly, Ginny sank into the armchair and started aimlessly paging through it. At ten o’clock the house finally fell silent. Tossing the magazine aside, she set about her preparations. Slowly, Ginny made her way back up to her bedroom, careful to avoid the squeaky steps. She gathered several sweaters, a pair of mittens, some extra socks and stuffed them all into a rucksack. On her way back down, she stopped at the linen closet and grabbed a stack of thick quilts. She took it all down to the kitchen and put everything on the large oak table. The back door did its best to blow her cover but, with some careful finagling, she got it open and slipped out to the shed. Ginny moved aside the Quidditch gear, and gardening tools, to set up a camp cot. She placed two quilts at the foot of the cot, before locking the shed back up. The clock ticked closer to the midnight hour. Trying to ignore its drone, Ginny set coffee brewing and focused her attention on making sandwiches. Bread. Tick. Cheese. Tock. Ham. Ticktock. Bread. Tick. Everything was fine. Tock. Her family was safe. Ticktock. She wasn’t betraying them all. Ticktock! TICKTOCK! No! Ginny mentally scolded herself. Sandwiches! Bread…cheese…ham… She spent the final five minutes of Christmas Eve standing just inside the boundary of the spells guarding the Burrow. Her eyes darted around the field, scrutinizing every little movement. With the final push into Christmas morning, Ginny’s attention was drawn towards two dim flashes of light. Several revealing spells showed no tracking spells, and only one person present. A quick breath and she pushed herself forward, beyond the protective border. He strode toward her, cloaked in black. The only sound was the crunch of dirt beneath his shoes. He stopped inches in front of her outstretched wand. Looking up, his steel grey eyes met hers and his lips twitched, with a hint of an amused smile. “I was worried you’d back out and leave me in this bloody field,” Draco Malfoy chided. “I was beginning to doubt if I’d ever hear from you again. I read the Prophet article, about your mysterious disappearance from the train. I thought I would have heard from you days ago.” “I’ve been experimenting.” Draco held up his left arm in explanation. “Did it work?” “No,” Draco said curtly. “So, what’s your plan?” “I’m fairly certain my parents would keel over if they found you in our sitting room, first thing Christmas morning. To save us that, I set up a cot in the shed for you.” Draco spat out a dry laugh. “After all this, I’m reduced to a cot in the Weasley’s garden shed,” he said, speaking as if Ginny wasn’t a foot away from him. “I could send you away right now and reduce you to snake food,” she sneered, her nostrils flaring. “I’m sorry there will be no house elves fawning over you, but you could do a lot worse than a few hours in our shed.” “Do you know how much I’m risking right now?” Draco snarled. “Not as much as me,” Ginny seethed, red sparks bursting from her wand. Her gaze was met by Draco’s, a lock of silver hair falling across his face. “I swear, if you make me regret this, I will spend every last breath I have hunting you down.” When Draco said nothing, Ginny held out her hand. After a reluctant moment, he grasped it and followed her through the Burrow’s protective wards. When they crossed the invisible line Ginny dropped his hand, but kept her wand trained on him as they walked to the shed. Ginny held out a bag of sandwiches and thermos of coffee. Draco accepted her offering, and stepped into the shed. She started to close the door when his hand reached out, and held it open. Instinctively, Ginny’s wand flew up, with a spell on the tip of her tongue. She stopped short when she heard him mumble incoherently. “Sorry, what’d you say?” “Thank you,” Draco murmured. He removed his hand and melded into the shadows. After locking up the door, Ginny wrapped herself up in a quilt and settled herself into a chair. She opened up her coffee and held her face just above the steam, breathing in the bitter scent. There was no way she would allow herself to sleep. A war had been waging between her head and her heart since the moment Draco Malfoy had approached her, at the start of term. She had been coming out of the Charms classroom, on the third day of classes, when she heard him call, “Weasley!” She looked over her shoulder, shot him a disdained look, and continued walking. He quickly caught up and grabbed her arm. Before she had the chance to tell him off, he had pushed a folded up piece of parchment into her palm and closed her fingers around it. Without another word or glance, he walked away. On the parchment were instructions to meet him in the Astronomy tower the following evening. As soon as Ginny had read it, the note disintegrated to ashes. She lay awake that evening, going back and forth over what she should do. Her family certainly wasn’t oblivious to the Malfoys. They’d had quite a few run ins over the years. The image of her father lunging at Lucius Malfoy, in Flourish and Blotts, was still vivid in her mind. She’d had very few personal encounters with Draco, but he had tormented her brothers and friends enough for her to curse his name. Still, she couldn’t deny that she was interested to know what he suddenly wanted her for. In the end, her curiosity won out. She obliged his request and made her way to the top of the Astronomy tower. He had gotten there first and was pacing the length of the room. Keeping her distance, Ginny drew her wand. She said nothing as she waited for him to acknowledge her. “Took you long enough,” Draco muttered, not halting his steps. Ginny continued to watch him go back and forth. Every few paces he would drag his hand through his hair, but stayed silent. She quickly grew bored and finally spoke. “Are you going to tell me what this is all about? Or have you started hand picking people to just stand and stare at you now?” At her words, Draco finally ceased the pacing and turned to face her. “I need your help.” “I’m sorry, I don’t think I heard that right. I could’ve sworn a Malfoy just asked a Weasley for help.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, as if he was itching to throw back a snide remark. “I need your help,” he repeated slowly. With a sarcastic chuckle, Ginny said, “Thanks for the laugh,” and turned to leave. Before she could take a step, the door slammed shut. “You need to at least listen to what I have to say,” Draco said. Ginny whipped around and, with two lightning fast spells, Draco Malfoy was unarmed and knocked on his arse. He could only stare as the youngest Weasley advanced on him with fire in her eyes. “Open it right now or my next spell brings the whole school charging up those steps,” Ginny growled “Please, help me.” The sound of anguish in his voice caused Ginny’s anger to flicker to pity for a second and she took a step back. Draco scrambled to his feet and held out his hand, with the expectation of getting his wand back. Ginny shook her head and said, “Why should I help you?” “What if I told you I could help bring Harry home?” “Why do you care so much about Harry all of the sudden?” Draco started his pacing again. “The quicker Potter takes care of You-Know-Who, the quicker I can escape this hell I’m living through.” “So, purely selfish reasons then. I should have figured.” “It’s not just for me, but my family too!” Draco protested, with an added mutter of, “At least for my mother.” Rubbing the back of his neck, he said, “Look, just tell me how I can I get in touch with whoever is the head of that little group of yours?” “No clue what your talking about,” Ginny lied. Draco’s eyes went narrow and his jaw clenched. “Don’t pull that naive act. You know exactly what I’m talking about.” “And you should know that I trust you about as much as I trust an Acromantula.” “You know that I know about the Order. After that night in the Department of Mysteries, your family’s little club isn’t exactly a secret. I need to find a way to get in contact with whoever is in charge,” Draco insisted. “I’m just an underage witch. What makes you think I know anything about all of that?” she asked innocently. “Merlin, you’re infuriating!” Draco cried. “You were there that night! You know exactly what I’m talking about!” “I also know well enough to keep my mouth so I don’t get carted off by your ruddy kind,” Ginny spat. “This Jekyll and Hyde act is growing old. First you’re begging for my help, and now you’re back to your usual cocky self. Don’t forget who has the upper hand here,” she said, holding up his wand. “Oh, come off it. As if I really need my wand to summon ‘my kind’. If I wanted to, I could summon You-Know-Who himself, right this second,” Draco threatened, holding out his left arm. He tried to hide the tremble in his voice, at the mention of the Dark Lord’s name, but it wasn’t missed by Ginny. Striding forward, Ginny gestured at his arm and said, “Go on then. Do it.” Draco’s pale face blanched to ghost white. “What?” “You heard me. Do it,” Ginny challenged. She came to a stop inches in front of Draco. “What’s holding you back?” She was now close enough to study his features and was shocked at the image before her. Draco’s grey eyes were dull and devoid of their usual malicious spark. The shadows beneath them hinted at consecutive sleepless nights. His once pristine attire was frayed and rumpled. The boy in front of her was slowly coming apart at the seams, making futile attempts at keeping up a noble pretense. Before he could back away, Ginny grabbed his left arm and pulled back his sleeve. Multiple fresh cuts were visible over healing scars. Against them all, the Dark Mark loomed, black and ominous. “You’ve been trying to get rid of it,” Ginny murmured. “It won’t go away,” Draco whispered. “All I want is for it all to go away.” Ginny dropped his arm, letting the robe hide away his desperation. “You need help running,” she concluded. “It’s the only option I have left, but I’ll get nowhere on my own. You know the details about what happened last year. I understand why you don’t trust me. I asked you here to see if there was a way to change that.” “I’ve witnessed you make fools out of my family. I’ve heard the disgusting things you’ve called my friends. Because of you, this school lost it’s greatest protector.” Ginny glared at Draco as he silently nodded. “It’s going to take a hell of a lot to convince me that you’re more than a conniving, bigoted, pompous, little ferret.” “Tell me what I need to do.” Ginny pursed her lips and took a moment to think. “Let’s say, hypothetically, I agree and try to help you. How can you bring my family home sooner?” “I can’t make any guarantees,” Draco started. “I’m going to need guarantees.” “Okay…what I CAN guarantee is that I will pass along every bit of information I have. Whatever I know, you’ll know. With that information, your lot will hopefully be able to bring down You-Know-Who and get your precious Potter back.” “Is that what you want? You-Know-Who gone?” Ginny pressed. “What I want is to not die. I believe the only way that can be ensured is for him to be defeated,” Draco answered. Ginny went silent and pondered her next move. “Even if I wanted to help, I don’t know how I could. I’m not just going to give you a name. And with all owls being searched, there’s no way I can safely contact anyone without outing us to our dear, new Headmaster.” Draco grimaced. Apparently he hadn’t anticipated this obstacle. “If you could write to them, would they believe you?” he proposed. “Maybe.” “Then you write to them and I will send it along,” Draco instructed. “I’ll use my personal owl, ensuring that the correspondence isn’t searched.” “Or tracked?” “He’ll get the job done,” Draco insisted. Ginny chewed on her bottom lip as she considered everything that Draco had presented her with. It was hard not to pity the hollow shell that stood in front of her. That night wasn’t the first time she had seen someone tormented by You-Know-Who, knowing that the only way to end the torture was to end him. The only difference was Harry chose to face the challenge, not run from it. Unfortunately, Draco didn't have that choice. “We’ll start slow-“ “I don’t have time for slow!” Draco interrupted. “We’ll start slow,” Ginny continued. “If you can come up with a way for us to communicate without drawing attention, I’ll make contact with someone and see what comes of it. I can’t guarantee anything-“ “Why do you need guarantees, but I get maybes?” Draco hissed. “If you can’t figure that out, then you’re not as smart as I thought. Do you want my help?” Draco gave a nod. “Then I get to set the conditions.” And thus began their reluctant partnership. Draco tackled the first hurdle quickly. He came up with a way for them to communicate, without creating suspicion among classmates, or the ever watchful, new staff. He set up a rotation of locations where they would leave notes for each other, in Draco’s devised code. For the alphabet, he numbered the letters in reverse order, then inverted the numbers. A became 62. Z became 10. Each note was sealed with an enchantment. Upon reading, the parchment would disintegrate as Draco’s initial one had. The first letter had been left under a suit of armor, at the end of a deserted corridor. Classes had long ended before Ginny was finally able to safely retrieve it. 211209072208240522 242215152609 23260916 12251722240708 It had taken a minute to decipher that first note, but she finally figured it out- FORTESCUE CELLAR DARK OBJECTS. That evening, Ginny wrote a letter to Kingsley Shacklebolt. Using the DA as her cover, she explained that they had overheard talk about dark objects being stored in the cellar of the former ice cream shop. After Draco sent it out, Ginny went two weeks with no reply. She finally received confirmation in the form of her Transfiguration teacher. Class had ended and Professor McGonagall held her back. “Something wrong, Professor?” Ginny had asked anxiously. “I just wanted to let you know, Mr. Lynx enjoyed the flavor of ice cream you suggested. He asked that I tell you to please pass along any others that you think he may like.” McGonagall lowered her glasses and studied Ginny. “Anything you wish to tell me, Miss Weasley?” “No ma’am. I know how much Mr. L loves ice cream. Just thought he’d like a new one I had heard about. May I be excused? I don’t want to be late for Potions.” McGonagall nodded and turned to her desk. Ginny hurried out the door, relieved at only having had to endure a minor inquisition. After that first success, Draco continued to supply Ginny with information about the dealings of You-Know-Who, and his followers. Their Professor continued to relay news of the information’s payoffs, though Ginny could see that she was growing wary of Ginny’s sudden wealth of knowledge. Draco’s restlessness started to set in after Halloween. Once again, he instructed Ginny to meet him in the Astronomy tower. “Think you could start keeping a low profile, Weasley?” he snarled, as soon as she walked through the door. “Hello to you too,” she said cooly. “The whole bloody school knows about your stunt with that sword! Why are you giving them more reasons to watch you?” “I have my reasons and they’re of no concern to you.” Draco started to reply, but Ginny shot him a warning look and he let it drop. “Why did you want to see me tonight?” “I need to get away from all of this, as soon as possible,” Draco pleaded. “My mother’s letters are becoming brief and few. You-Know-Who could pull me out of here at any minute.” “Why would he pull you out? You’ve been here and done nothing.” Draco laughed off her question. “That doesn’t matter to him. If he thinks he can use me to make an example out of my father, I’m gone. I don’t care where I go, but I can’t stay here much longer.” “I understand your urgency,” Ginny replied. She could clearly see that he was entering a manic state. The shadows under his eyes were darker and his cheeks were sunken, revealing a thinness she figured he thought was hidden well enough under billowy robes. “There is no way you can get out of here without a raising an alarm.” Ginny sighed and mulled over their options. “I think your only chance will be when we break for the holidays. Can you make it until then?” “It doesn’t look as though I have any other choice.” Draco blew out a breath and clutched his left arm to his chest. “Still there?” Ginny asked gently. “Every night I cut the damn thing out. Every morning, it returns; blazing against the blood and scars.” Draco let the arm fall limp, against his side. “Any ideas about how I might banish it for good?” “No, sorry.” Ginny looked at his arm and welled up a bit. “My brother, George, lost his ear to a dark curse. Mum said dark magic leaves a permanent mark. It may never go away.” Draco let out a dry laugh. “I’ll just have to chop the bloody thing off then.” “Let’s call that Plan B.” Ginny went to rub his shoulder, but then withdrew her hand and just nodded. “It’ll get better.” “What makes you say that?” Ginny stuttered for a moment before answering, “Because it has to…doesn’t it?” “Being on the right side doesn’t entitle you to a happy ending.” And now, here she was- huddled under handmade quilts, with a jar of bluebell flames on her lap as a smattering of snow flurries started drifting to the frozen ground. With a shaking hand, Ginny reached into her bag and pulled out a sandwich. As she ate, she let her mind wander to Harry. It took a lot of effort to not dwell, every moment of the day, on where he might be and what he was doing. She had come to the unsettling conclusion, long ago, that no matter where he was, or what he did, he would never be truly safe until this war was over. He would always be on the run, until the Dark Lord was vanquished. The sooner You-Know-Who was gone, the quicker her family, and her heart, could be put back together. It was a big reason she had initially put her trust in Draco, but her intentions had slowly evolved. She still wanted her loved ones home, but she also hoped that she could help Draco find some solace. War took it’s toll, no matter what side a person was stuck on. Twilight slowly conceded to the dawn, and a dusting of snow coated Ginny’s surroundings. The flurries had turned into fat, fluffy flakes, and were falling steadily. Her hair lay soaked, and lank, down her back. The clanging of pots and pans rang out from the kitchen. Her mother had awoken and was starting on Christmas breakfast. Ginny unlocked the door and rapped three times. Her knock was quickly echoed. “Come to the door in five minutes,” Ginny instructed. As she was gathering up blankets and her thermos, the crack of an apparition made her gasp. When she saw that it was just Fred and George, she let out a relieved breath. “Happy Christmas, sis!” Fred called, striding over to her. His gaze took in Ginny’s appearance and possessions. “If we’d have known you wanted pneumonia for Christmas, we wouldn’t have spent so much on you,” he chided, shaking a red and gold wrapped gift. Ginny glowered at him, but Fred just grinned. She followed the twins inside, grumbling obscenities under her breath. “Merry Christmas!” Molly greeted, rushing to hug the twins. She stopped short when she saw Ginny with them. Pushing George out of the way, she cried, “Ginevra Weasley! What on earth were you doing outside? You’re positively soaked!” Her mother flicked her wand and enveloped Ginny in a drying spell. “How long have you been outside?!” “Mum, where’s Dad?” Ginny asked, ignoring Molly’s fussing. “I let him have a lie in. He’s been working so hard lately. With all those late nights, he deserves a bit of extra kip.” Molly glared at Ginny, hands on her hips. “Stop dodging my questions, young lady. What were you doing outside?” Ginny started to answer, but a knock on the door told her that her explanation had just revealed itself. She stared at the scuffed floor, as her mother and brothers whipped around to see Draco standing at the kitchen threshold. “What in the bloody hell?” George yelled. He lunged for the doorway, but Molly caught him by the collar. “What were you doing with my sister?!” he cried, struggling against his mother’s hold. “Ginny, explain. Now!” Molly forced George into a chair and turned to Ginny, eyes blazing and expectant. “What is this boy doing at my house?” “Please, Mum. I need Dad!” Ginny begged. George continued to try and break free. “George, stop! It’s not what you think.” Molly stared at her daughter for a beat before calling up the stairs, “Arthur! Come down here now, please!” From up above, they heard a loud thump, and hurried footsteps. Less than a minute later, Arthur Weasley descended the steps. With his wand at the ready, he was wrapped in a tattered, blue dressing gown and a nightcap askew on his head. He stopped at the bottom step and took in the scene. Arthur grimaced, his gaze lingering on the unwelcome visitor. “Don’t just leave the boy standing in the cold.” He waved Draco inside and pointed his wand at the fireplace. Orange flames danced to life, quickly warming the downstairs. “What’s going on?” Before Draco could say anything, Ginny answered, “He needs help, Dad. Can you send a message to the rest of the Order?” Arthur looked confusedly at his daughter. “You brought him here?” “Yes. If you get the rest of the Order together, Kingsley can help me explain.” “Shacklebolt? What does he have to do with this?” Arthur asked incredulously. Ginny bit her bottom lip, thinking how best to explain her actions. “Has he told you about the tips he’s been receiving, the last few months?” Her father’s gaze bounced from Ginny, to Draco, then back again. “You were his anonymous informant?” Ginny nodded. “And all the information, I presume, came from him?” he asked, pointing to Draco. Ginny nodded again. “Here I thought Minerva had just been eavesdropping on Amycus and Alecto,” he mumbled. “Can I ask, Ginny, what made you think you could trust him?” “Show them,” Ginny said to Draco, pointing at his marked arm. Draco vigorously shook his head, but Ginny insisted. “You want them to trust you like I do? Show them.” Draco slowly removed his robes. His entire left forearm was wrapped in white bandages, soaked in a mixture of fresh and dried blood. “What did you do?” George whispered, leaning across the table to get a closer look before Molly swatted him back. Ginny was wondering the same. What desperate measures had Draco resorted to? “You better let me have a look at it,” her mother said, sitting down beside him. She started to undo the dressings. Draco winced and gripped the tabletop, but said nothing as his shame was exposed. Unspoken horror hung in the air as they stared at Draco’s arm. A ragged, gaping hole bore through layers of skin and into his muscle. “What did this?” Molly demanded, summoning her Magical Medi-Kit. “Acid.” Ginny sucked in a breath as she looked closer at the wound. All around the wound were burned trails where the acid had dripped off. Though not black, the unmistakable outline of a skull and snake were clearly visible through the mutilation. Molly quickly vanished the soiled dressings and directed Draco to the stairs. “I think this might be best taken care of in the bathroom.” Draco hesitated for a moment before following her up the steps. The kitchen fell silent again. Ginny apprehensively looked from her father to her brothers. She was starting to wish for yelling and arguing; the silence felt unsettling, and foreboding. Their lull was finally broken by the sound of Charlie, outside, stomping snow from his boots. His big grin faded, as he entered and dropped his bag of presents in the scullery. “What’s happened?” he asked, looking around at his family. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Arthur sighed, rising from his chair. He slipped into a pair of old Wellingtons and went outside. Charlie followed, leaving his siblings at the table. “Think it’s too early to break open the bottle of Firewhiskey we brought?” George ventured. When Ginny didn’t respond, he nudged his shoulder against hers. “C’mon Gin, give us a smile. Everything’s going to turn out fine.” “What if we slip a canary cream into one Charlie’s mince pies?” Fred proposed. Ginny couldn’t help but giggle at that thought. “Something tells me you’ve had that planned for a while.” “That little detail is neither here, nor there,” said Fred, with a flippant flick of his hand. Ginny’s smile remained as she laid her head on the table. She hoped he was right. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as she was predicting… The slamming of the door jolted Ginny back up. Exhaustion was setting in, and she had dozed off on the table. The reemergence of her father had brought her back to reality. “I sent a Patronus to Kingsley and Remus. They’ll gather the rest of The Order,” Arthur announced, putting two kettles on the cooktop. He leaned against the counter, and focused his attention on Ginny. “What made you trust Draco Malfoy?” he asked. His wary eyes search Ginny’s anxious face. Ginny frowned, her eyes growing damp. “You saw what he’s doing to himself. He’s still just a kid. born on the wrong side of a man’s war. I guess it reminded me of someone else we know,” she concluded, with a whisper. She clutched her hands tightly together, attempting to hide their uncontrollable shaking. Her father saw right through her, though. Arthur crossed the kitchen and gathered his daughter in his arms. “You have a good heart, lamb,” he whispered, stroking her hair. Ginny’s facade cracked, and she found herself quietly weeping into his robe. Cradled in her father’s arms, she wanted nothing more than to be seven again. “Why don’t we go make ourselves more presentable?” Arthur suggested, kissing Ginny’s forehead. “Our company will be arriving soon.” Thankful for an excuse to get away, Ginny quickly agreed. She hurried upstairs and shut herself in her room. Giving into the temptation of her bed, she fell into the familiar comfort and pulled out her childhood friend– a stuffed unicorn named Tilly. For years, Tilly went everywhere with Ginny. Never having had a sister, she created one. Her older brothers teased her, but she didn’t care. She loved Tilly. Over the course of their many adventures, Tilly had needed quite a bit of mending and her mum was continuously re-stuffing and stitching the worn toy. Across the hall, she could hear her mother tending to Draco. Ginny ran her fingers over the many repairs of her old friend. A few fresh tears slid down her cheeks. Gone were the days of just handing broken things over to her mother, knowing for sure that they’d get fixed. ‘Being on the right side doesn’t entitle you to a happy ending.’ Draco’s words echoed through her head. She was beginning to believe them. It wasn’t long before a flood of inquiring voices crept into her room. Rolling off her bed, Ginny threw on a fresh pair of jeans and last year’s hand-knitted Christmas sweater. Making her way downstairs, Ginny stopped at the kitchen entrance and marveled at the people that were packed into the tiny space, spilling over into the sitting room. George and Fred had been joined at the table by Bill and Charlie. Draco sat across from Bill, his arm freshly bandaged and his calm demeanor faltering under the unblinking gaze of her eldest brother. The scars that ran the length of Bill’s left cheek lent an air of harsh intimidation to his appearance. For this reason, he usually let his long hair mask the marks. Ginny was certain he had purposely tucked those strands behind his ears upon taking the adjacent seat. Her mother was in the kitchen, pouring mugs of tea, while bacon and sausages sizzled on the griddle. She was waving off a persistent Tonks, who was trying her hardest to lend a helping a hand. “Sit down, and rest your feet,” Molly urged. She rubbed Tonks’ growing middle, wistfully adding, “It won’t be long before those chances are few and far between.” Remus guided his wife to an empty armchair, and sat down on the neighboring sofa, beside Professor McGonagall. The teacher caught Ginny’s gaze and arched an eyebrow. Ginny wasn’t sure if it was a look of knowing or disapproval, but it sent a shiver down her spine. She was rather fond of her Transfiguration professor and hoped this wouldn’t cause a rift between them. Ginny sat down in the empty seat beside Draco, just as a tray of toast and jam floated onto the table. Molly set cups of tea in front of them. As Ginny stirred her tea, the back door opened, sending a burst of frozen air through the warm kitchen. Kingsley Shacklebolt entered, and Ginny saw a thick layer of snow now blanketed the ground outside. “I believe we are all here,” Arthur declared, as Kingsley accepted a cup of tea and took the last available seat at the table. “Sincerest apologies for pulling everyone away from their holiday festivities, but an unexpected visitor showed up on our doorstep.” Arthur gestured at Draco before continuing, “Kingsley, my daughter says that you could help explain their situation.” Kingsley folded his hands and focused his gaze on Ginny and Draco. “Up until a minute ago, I had half of the story and only assumptions for the missing pieces. Seeing Mr. Malfoy confirms many of my suspicions.” “Ginny has been writing to me, filling me in on a good deal of Death Eater activity,” Kingsley continued. “She’s been my anonymous source these past few months. With limited means of communication, I could never be certain where she was getting her information. I see now her claims don’t quite match up with the truth.” Molly and Arthur shot identical stern looks at their daughter. “What did you tell him?” Arthur demanded. “I told him that I, and other members of the DA, had found a way to spy on Snape and the Carrows.” “And you acted on the words of a teenage girl?” Remus cried, looking angrily at Kingsley. “When her first tip proved to be useful, yes,” Kingsley answered. “Age is not a factor in credibility. Have you forgotten who is out there, risking everything for our cause? They certainly aren’t seasoned veterans.” “Perhaps it would be wise to let Ginny and Draco tell us why they have struck up an allegiance,” McGonagall interjected. “He needed help and I had the means to help him,” Ginny stated simply. “We can see that much. What made you trust a Malfoy?” Remus pressed. “I took a moment and looked beyond a name.” Ginny could feel Draco’s eyes on her, but refused to meet them. If she was going to get through this, she couldn’t have her heartstrings tugged. “Providing her with valid information was my test,” Draco spoke up. “I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t been able to earn her trust.” “This isn’t the first time the Order has been approached by a ‘reformed’ Death Eater. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten what happened with him,” Remus said, making no attempt to hide his accusatory tone. “No, I haven’t.” “Enlighten us then, Draco. Why the sudden change of heart.” Draco let out a dry, derisive laugh. “It’s not sudden. I’ve wanted out for a while now, but there’s never been a chance to take the leap.” “And we’re just supposed to overlook what happened in June?” Bill suddenly asked, the left side of his face twitching. “I don’t expect my past actions to be swept under the rug. I haven’t come here for forgiveness. What happened last year is something I’ll have to live with. But I hope you can believe me when I tell you that I didn’t want anything to do with that task,” Draco insisted, leaning forward. “I did what I had to do to survive. I may not have worshipped the ground he walked on, but I….I never wanted to kill Dumbledore.” His voice faltered and he sank back in his chair. “Then what made you go through with it?” Remus asked. “Are you serious?” Draco asked, incredulously. “I’m just supposed to tell You-Know-Who ‘no’?” He laughed and shook his head. “I had no choice. I was given my orders and there was no turning back. At first, I was actually pleased to be hand picked by him, like there was something special about me. I quickly realized that there was nothing special. I had been sent on a slow death march.” “Why were you chosen? Surely there were other Death Eaters with children at the school,” Remus implored. “I was used as punishment for my father’s mess at the Department of Mysteries. Instead of a swift punishment on him, You-Know-Who thought it would be more effective for my father to watch as I was set up for failure.” Draco’s eyes were lit with a manic fire as he stared down Remus. “You know nothing about what it’s like to be in his presence. To be assigned a task and expected to follow it through, knowing what awaits you should you fail. I do. I know how he works, how he moves, what he expects from his followers. That’s why you need me.” The group fell silent. No one could argue his facts. Only two of their group had ever come face to face with the Dark Lord. They had no idea where one was. The other was dead. “Why do you need us?” Tonks asked. “I’m as good as dead on my own. I’m sure you’ve read the article in The Prophet. My absence has not gone unnoticed. I’ve already ignored numerous summons,” Draco explain. Ginny watched his left hand clench until his knuckles went white. “The last two months, my mother’s letters have dwindled. When she would write, her tone had changed. Before I left for school, You-Know-Who was raving about Potter’s escape in August. My father received the worst of his wrath for that. He’s looking for something and getting desperate. The way he likes to make my father suffer, it felt like only a matter of time before I was used as a pawn again.” Kingsley continued to interrogate, but his words were lost as Ginny mulled over what Draco had just said. Pieces of the information weren’t adding up. After all of their communications, he had never mentioned You-Know-Who searching for something. What if…. “What is You-Know-Who looking for? ” Ginny asked suddenly, interrupting Kingsley mid-sentence. “Ginny, manners!” her father hissed. “Sorry, Kingsley,” Ginny apologized. “It’s alright, dear,” Kingsley replied, gently. “But it is a very good question. I’m curious to hear the answer too. Do you know?” he asked Draco. “No, I don’t. I don’t think any of his followers do. He gives orders, not details.” “The night they went after Harry, why was he so angry with your father?” Ginny asked quickly, before anyone else could speak. “From what we know about that evening, your father wasn’t even there. Why would You-Know-Who take it out on him?” “Another astute question, young lady.” Kingsley’s eyes were wide, a hint of a smile on his face. His gaze shifted from Ginny to Draco. “Mr. Malfoy?” Draco’s eyes darted from from Kingsley, to Ginny. “You-Know-Who refused to use his own wand that night. Instead, he used my father’s wand. When he tried to kill Harry, I think the spell didn’t work, or it backfired on him. Either way, the wand was destroyed, Harry lived, and You-Know-Who blamed my father.” “Why would he use another’s wand, and not his own?” Tonks pondered. “Surely if he believes he’s the most powerful wizard, he would also believe his wand to be the most powerful.” “But if he believed that, then why would he have Mr. Ollivander kidnapped?” Ginny looked up at her father and Remus. “Maybe there’s something more powerful out there?” “There have been stories….” Arthur started. “Children’s fairytales,” Remus scoffed. “Besides, we have no idea why he kidnapped Garrick. For all we know, he could have been taken simply to make a statement and then killed the night of his disappearance.” “He wasn’t.” All eyes shifted to Draco. “Mr. Ollivander has been kept alive, locked in the basement.” Remus was quiet for a moment. It seemed as though he wasn’t quite sure about what to do with that information. When the wand maker had been kidnapped, and his shop destroyed, the news made headlines, but only for a day. At the time, kidnappings and random disappearances were becoming the norm. People barely had time to dwell on one before being bombarded with several more. It wasn’t long before Garrick Ollivander’s vanishment was overshadowed. “Let’s hope that continues to be the truth,” Remus started again. “That still doesn’t change the fact that a wand is only as powerful as the wizard wielding it. Without a witch, or wizard, behind it, a wand is nothing more than a twig.” “Don’t you remember though!” Ginny persisted. “Harry said that that night he didn’t cast a spell against You-Know-Who! His wand acted on it’s own accord. Seems like that’s a bit stronger than a twig.” A warning look from her father told her that she was getting a bit too cheeky, but she couldn’t help it. She loved Remus, but his unbending, black and white logic frustrated her at times. “You can’t deny that some of these puzzle pieces fit together!” Ginny urged. “You-Know-Who is looking for something. Dumbledore set Harry with the same task. What if they’re both searching for the same thing? If we could figure out what they’re trying to find-“ “That could be anything,” Remus interrupted. “Wand lore is a very extensive subject. One that very few take up the task of delving into. Yes, there have been stories passed down, through the centuries, of powerful wands. But they were all owned by very powerful wizards!” “What if you have it backwards?” Ginny challenged. “Mr. Ollivander tells all his customers, the wand chooses the wizard.” Stillness fell over the rooms, with Ginny and Remus glaring at each other. “If you weren’t underage, Miss Weasley, I’d induct you into the Order this minute,” Kingsley declared. “Not a chance,” Molly growled. Kingsley raised his hands, in mock defense, but gave Ginny a sly wink, causing a blush to flood her face. “All valid points,” Kingsley acknowledged. “I believe, in our current situation, we cannot discount anything that is plausible. And,” he insisted, holding up a finger and heading off Remus’ protests, “Ginny is right. Some of these things feel more than just coincidental. If Harry and You-Know-Who are indeed trying to find the same thing, perhaps with Draco’s help, we could figure out what that is. Even if it isn’t the same thing, it would be a turning point if we could figure our what the Dark Lord was searching for.” The interrogation lulled again, until Kingsley gestured to Draco’s wrapped arm. “How’s your arm feeling, son?” “Please don’t make him show it again,” Fred muttered, causing Draco to clutch his arm tightly against his chest. “I wasn’t planning on it,” Kingsley assured with a gentle chuckle. “It’s not going away,” he stated and Draco shook his head. “And it won’t. Many men before you have driven themselves mad in their own attempts to banish it. It’s a mark, and a harsh reality, that you’ll have to bear.” Ginny fought back tears as Draco’s face contorted from disbelief to anger, before ending on devastated acceptance. The one thing he had been denying, for so long, was finally confirmed. “If we take you in, you will stop trying to get rid of it,” Kingsley warned, causing Draco to sit up straighter. “Is that understood?” “Yes, sir,” Draco replied. “You will be under constant surveillance, in a location of our choosing. And we will expect flawless cooperation. Can you accept these terms?” Draco nodded. Kingsley addressed the rest of the group. “Does anyone have anything else to ask or add?” Remus’ face still held a skeptical air, but he nodded his head with the others. “Our final order of business- where will Mr.Malfoy go? Molly?” Kingsley broached. Molly pursed her lips and shook her head. “I don’t feel comfortable. With Arthur still trying to keep up appearances at the Ministry, it’s a big risk. Perhaps Bill and Fleur could put him up at Shell Cottage?” Panic flickered on her brother’s face, making Ginny wonder what he might be hiding. A second later it returned to passive as he answered, “I don’t think Fleur would be on board with that.” “Send him to Muriel’s,” George suggested, smiling wickedly. His delight spread to his twin. “They’re perfect for each other!” Ginny giggled at the thought of Draco being left with their antagonizing great aunt. “Who’s Muriel?” Draco whispered, looking around the room, trying to find a face he didn’t recognize. “Muriel is one of our more…er, eccentric aunts,” Ginny said, doing her best not to outright insult family, while Fred and George snickered. “I know you two are having a laugh,” Arthur admonished. “But it’s not a bad idea. Do you think she’d go for it?” he asked, turning to his wife. “She’s old and out of the way. It’s just her in that ancient house. Bet she’d like some company. Plus, I’m pretty sure she’d be able to scare off a Death Eater in less than a minute.” Molly slapped his arm and the twins howled with laughter. “We can ask her this afternoon when we take Christmas dinner over,” Molly answered, shooting a stern look at the twins. “Why doesn’t she just come here for Christmas?” Draco inquired. “George and I may not be her favorite nephews,” Fred explained. “Can’t imagine why,” Draco muttered. Molly invited the other members to join the family for dinner, but each declined. Professor McGonagall wanted to return to Hogwarts, fearing the repercussions the remaining students might face in her absence. Remus and Tonks were due to spend the holiday with her mother, Andromeda. Tonks’ father was still on the run and they didn’t want Andromeda to be alone. Kingsley politely declined, saying his wife would be anxiously awaiting his return. “If Muriel won’t allow Draco to stay, let me know at once and we’ll look into other arrangements,” Kingsley instructed. He slipped into his coat and kissed Molly’s cheek before heading back out into the snow. “Fleur will be waiting for me, also,” Bill said, hugging his mother. “I do wish you’d stay. It’s Christmas,” Molly lamented. “Can I make it up to you by promising New Years?” Bill negotiated, plastering on his most charming smile. “It’ll have to do,” Molly conceded, piling gifts into his arms. “Send our love to Fleur!” A quick kiss on his mother’s cheek, and Bill was gone. Ginny started helping her mother prepare dinner. Draco quietly hung back, watching her brothers challenge each other to matches of Chess and Exploding Snap. He offered one word responses when offered more tea or biscuits. Ginny wanted to ask how he was feeling, but held her tongue. A lot had happened in the last twenty-fours hours and there was a good chance Draco didn’t even know how he was feeling. Dinner was a very quiet affair. Arthur and the boys tried to brighten the mood, but soon gave up. Draco ate a bit, but mostly just pushed food around his plate. When the last of the Christmas pudding had been scraped from their bowls, Molly and Arthur packed up Aunt Muriel’s portions and apparated to her home. Charlie started clearing up and the twins retreated to their old room, looking for a box of supplies they had hidden away. Ginny stayed seated at the table with Draco. She watched as he aimlessly twirled his spoon. When Charlie cleared that away, Draco let his hand fall to the table and started drumming his fingers. Gently, Ginny reached out and placed her hand over his, halting his rhythm. He looked up at her, eyes widened in surprise. “You’re going to be okay,” she reassured. “Even if Muriel doesn’t take you in, they’ll find a place for you.” Draco nodded and Ginny patted his hand, then went to help Charlie with the washing up. They were just finishing up when Molly and Arthur clomped back into the kitchen, shaking snow from their hair. Draco looked at them expectantly. “Muriel agreed to take you in, on a trial period,” Arthur informed him. Draco let out a sigh of relief. “Just a word of caution, though, before we leave. Don’t be fooled by Muriel’s age. She’s still got a keen set of senses. Her hearing is exceptionally good. So I suggest you toe the line, because she won’t suffer foolish behaviour.” “No, she will not!” George called, coming down the steps, with Fred on his heels. Arthur grimaced, but nodded in agreement. “If you’re ready then, I’ll take you to her place.” Draco stood and grabbed his pack. As he followed her father out the back door, Ginny suddenly remembered that in the upheaval of the day, they had forgotten all about exchanging gifts. “Draco, wait!” Ginny called, running to the Christmas tree. She pulled a gift from the bottom of her stack, then hurried outside. “Ginny, you’ve got nothing but stockings on your feet!” Arthur scolded. “Get back inside.” She ignored her dad’s orders, and handed the gift to Draco. He gave her a puzzled stare, but accepted the package. “What’s this for?” he asked, scrutinizing the wrappings. She simply answered, “Happy Christmas.” Draco pulled off the paper, revealing a knitted, green and silver striped scarf. He smiled sadly as he stared at the garment. “Thank you,” he murmured, wrapping the scarf around his neck. Ginny nodded and started back to the warm house. “Hey, Weasley,” Draco called, before she could reach the door. Ginny stopped and turned back. He waved and said, “I hope you find your happy ending.” With that, he grabbed Arthur’s arm. The next second, Draco Malfoy was gone. “I hope you find yours too,” Ginny whispered to the wind. |
| Reviews 12 |
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