Title: We All Fall Down

Author: Tiny Q

E-Mail: one legged lesbian seagull hotmail com (Please add 3 underscores, one "at" sign, and a period)

A/N: When I first posted this I thought it would be my last story. Luckily I was mistaken. I had intended to finish it before the fifth book came out, but as you can tell it didn't happen. This is now the second version which is OotP friendly. This chapter itself did not change much at all but the second one has some major overhauls. So if you have read this already, please re-read chapter 2. And enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Perhaps the plot but nothing else.

We All Fall Down

Chapter 1

Make Up Your Mind

o-o-o

Soundtrack: "Make Up Your Mind" by Theory of a Deadman

o-o-o

"Draco!" Draco Malfoy's mother cried through the evening.

It was storming outside and the wind was howling through the Manor like a banshee. The trees of the forest, not too far from the massive building, were being thrashed about, rustling with anger when the wind gusted. The rain pelted down, drowning the already soaked ground. Hail would come soon. It was inevitable. The night was dark. Far darker than it should have been on a summer night. Lightning struck down, illuminating the darkened grounds of Malfoy Manor casting elongated, unworldly shadows.

Draco Malfoy sat in his office, staring out the window, absorbing it all. The whole scenario brought back memories. Dark and terrible memories he often shoved to the back of his mind, trying desperately to forget. The thrashing of the trees, struggling valiantly, yet receiving the beating of their lives. Their roots, their courage, running deep, stopping the onslaught of nature. The wind howling with rage-

"Draco!" his mother called again, more desperately this time.

Draco snapped out of his revere, leaping to his feet and bolting out of the room. The immaculate halls were cold and dark. The candles placed in their bras did not help as they cast a gloomy, depressing light. He ignored them, just as he ignored how the light flickered as he rushed past.

His mother's room was three levels above, enchanted so he could hear her anywhere on the grounds. Secret passageways and winding stairways were given no heed as Draco hurried through them. As of late they had been traveled far too often.

Draco paused before the double doors and took a deep breath. He never knew what to expect when he opened them and passed through their threshold. He heard her call again. Turning the antique knob he stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

Narcissa Malfoy was seated in her usual armchair by the fire. The flickering orange light making the hallows of her eyes and face seem deeper, more defined. The half-empty gleam of her eyes more evident, impossible to hide. Every time Draco saw her like this he felt anger burn within him.

Lucius Malfoy, his father, had done this. He wasn't sure of what he had done or how, but he was certain that it had been him. That he had bewitched his wife before he fled. A final act of revenge on his only son.

"Oh Draco," she sighed when her disturbed eyes fell on him. He stepped towards her and knelt down beside her chair. Reaching out, he gently clasped her long, elegant hands, so much like his own, reassuringly. Despite the fact that she was seated right next to the hearth, Narcissa's hands were deathly cold. He felt a chill run down his spine.

"What is it, mother?" he asked softly, searching her eyes, trying to find anything of the strong woman who had raised him. He found no trace of her.

"Why must it storm so, Draco?" she asked, looking into his eyes then past them. He knew her mind was drifting. "Why must the depression fight to hold on? Why can't the light fight back anymore?" He stared at her blankly. "It's coming back, Draco. Darker and more powerful than the last times." She squeezed his hand with crushing strength. He did not pull back. He had not realized his mother still had such strength in her. "And this time the little girl will not be able to stop them."

o-o-o

"I don't care Harry!" Ginny Weasley shrieked angrily, her long, wet hair whipping in the wind. The rain was pouring down in sheets, soaking right through her clothes down to her skin. She was vaguely aware of it, of the gusting wind. Of the lightning illuminating Harry Potter's confused face. Of the Forbidden Forest moving in the corner of her eye.

"But Ginny, it's not safe," he tried again, trying to convince her to go in. His glasses were slipping down his nose, unruly hair plastered to his head.

"I don't care Harry!" she screamed again. "I'm sick of it! I'm sick of everything! I'm sick of you!"

"Of me?" he asked in surprise, eyes going wide. He took a step towards her and she stepped back. The small Golden Snitch pendant around her neck swung about as she did so. It had been a gift from him on their one month anniversary. She resisted the urge to tear it off.

"Yes you," she hissed. "I'm sick of taking the back seat to your life Harry." She pulled the drenching wet hair from her face. "Of coming second after Voldemort or Ron or Hermione or Sirius or Quidditch or anything else that presents itself that seems to fascinate you more than I do."

"Ginny," he gasped, eyes going wider than before. She wasn't sure of what she was saying or why she was saying it. All she knew was that it had to come out, like tainted blood from a wound. "That's not true! You mean so much to me!"

"Do I Harry?" she demanded. "Do I really? Then why don't you talk to me anymore? Why don't you treat me like I matter to you?"

"I didn't realize-" he started but cut off. "Ginny, I had no idea you felt like this. Why didn't you say so before?"

"Because I'm a daft idiot, that's why," she snapped. The cold was penetrating into her, making her teeth chatter. She ignored it. "Because I was fooling myself into believing you would never neglect me like this. That I was imaging it all. That it really isn't that bad."

"What are you saying, Ginny?" he asked softly, his green, vivid eyes losing their wideness but not their disbelief. "What do you mean?"

Ginny opened her mouth to respond but the world lit up. All the darkness and gloom that had surrounded her dropped away. And for the briefest of moments she saw everything so clearly. The shock on Harry's face. The grounds of Hogwarts. The billowing trees.

Then the pain began with an explosion that threatened to deafen her. Every nerve of her body screamed out in agony and she realized she was screaming as well. The pain was white-hot. She had never felt such agony. All she could do was wish that it would end.

o-o-o

Ginny awoke with a start. Looking around in a sleep induced daze she realized that the thunder rattling the window across the room had awoken her from her turbulent sleep. She shivered violently and sat up on the large couch where she had dozed off moments before. She stared fearfully out at the storm raging violently against the window, threatening to break through and attempt to claim her once more.

It had not been a dream. She knew far to well that it had happened over seven years ago. Yet as to why she was suddenly dreaming about it, Ginny was not sure. She did not want to know. She did not want to remember. She wanted it all to be a memory. Distant to her mind's eye.

'I'm working too hard,' she told herself silently. 'Far too hard.'

There was a knock at the door and Ginny jumped. Looking towards the entrance to her apartment she stood up, clutching her heart. Scolding herself for being so jumpy, she made her way across the dark living room to the hallway.

The lights were out. The sunlight that had once filled the room from outside had long since left. The shadows reached out at her, begging her to join them. She turned on the light, forcing them back, giving the apartment the artificial glow of florescent lights.

Silently padding over to her door, she leaned forward and stared out the tiny peephole. The tinted blue walls of the hallway greeted her eye, illuminated by bright overhead lights. A man was standing a foot from the door, distorted by the rounded glass of the hole.

She pulled back to lock and opened the door.

"Harry, what's wrong?" she gasped, taking in Harry Potter's disturbing state. He was soaked through to the bone. His expensive black cloak sticking to his tall, lean frame and the black shirt that he wore underneath was sticking as well, revealing well-toned abs, the result of years of professional Quidditch. Raven black hair plastered in odd curls to his head. His circular glasses were slipping down his slightly rounded nose reminding Ginny of her dream. Her eyes fell to his green ones.

"There's nothing wrong, Ginny," he said, shaking his head slightly causing water to fly from his longish hair.

"Then why are you here, Harry?" she asked, frowning slightly. He had not come to see her alone for many months. Not since their mutual agreement to stop their dating. This did not, however, mean that she had not seen him. That was impossible when his best friend was her brother and his family practically her own. "And why are you so wet?"

"It's raining outside, Gin," he said, raising an eyebrow as if to state the obvious. She glanced behind her, back into her apartment, to see the rain still pounding hard against her the widow. She turned back to the Boy Who Lived.

"And I suppose you forgot your umbrella," she speculated. Over the last seven years, in which the two had dated on and off for various amounts of time, she had come to know him very well. She knew that even though he could be so powerful magically at times and incredibly clever at others, he still forgot mundane things. Leaving the house on a rainy day without an umbrella was one example. Forgetting dates was another.

"Couldn't find the bloody thing actually," he said darkly. "Knew I would need it, but couldn't find it." He grinned at her. "Isn't that always the way?"

She laughed lightly. "I suppose it is." Ginny wondered briefly as to where all this was going. She knew in her heart that she could not take another breakup. It wasn't that they ever left in anger but it was that just as she thought her life had some stability to it he would leave and it all would be torn to shreds.

Looking over her life though that should not have been such a big deal. The world kept throwing more and more things at her, forcing her to juggle them all, hope to drop nothing important and leave it behind. She had failed on more than a few occasions.

"It's good to hear you laugh again, Gin," he said softly, looking at her wistfully. For some reason she felt uncomfortable under his gaze and crossed her arms over her average sized chest.

"Why are you here, Harry?" she asked again, feeling suddenly tired. She had been working far too hard as of late.

"To see you again, Ginny," he said, smiling slightly. It was a bit of a goofy smile that reminded her of better times. More cheerful times with fewer responsibilities and fewer mistakes on their hands. "To tell you that you're beautiful. That you are the only one who has ever understood the real me." She opened her mouth to protest but he raised his hand. She shut it. "People only ever see Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, and frankly I'm sick of it. But when I'm with you Ginny it all falls away. You just see me. You see just Harry."

Ginny felt her eyes grow wide. She was not liking the direction that this conversation was taking. Not in the slightest. Images of him dropping to one knee flashed through her mind. Images that at one point in her life would have had her blushing madly and squealing like the school girl she had been. But those times were dead. The twenty-three year old Ginny had realized long ago that fairy tales did not exist. She realized more recently that she did not see her knight in shinning armor in Harry. She saw a knight, yes. But not her knight.

"Harry, stop," she said gently, her voice carrying the strength she had acquired over the years. "It won't work out. It never will. We have been fooling ourselves into thinking it will. But haven't all these years shown us something? It won't work, Harry."

"But we've been through so much together," he responded, moving his large, square hands for emphasis. Hands she had once enjoyed the touch of.

"That's just it," she sighed. "We've been through so much. And what we've done, or haven't done will always be between us. It's like a rift. A rift of pain and regret."

"It isn't all pain and regret," he said earnestly, looking at her with hope. "There was good stuff too. Think of all the saved lives." She noticed how he had not said anything about their own happiness. 'Always the hero,' she thought bitterly.

"Think of all the ones we failed to save," she replied darkly. "All the ones that fell."

"You can't expect to save everyone, Gin. It's impossible." His soft words only caused anger to rise in her heart. 'How can he say that?' she thought angrily. 'They were people. Each and every one of them. Just like me or him. How can he speak as though they were nothing but-' she cut off. Thinking like that would lead her nowhere. It never did. Just bitterness. That was all it ever brought. "Just be happy with what was accomplished."

"I can't," she snapped. "I still feel them, Harry. They're always there. You have no idea what it's like. No clue what I-" Her eyes widened as she cut off, realizing what she was saying. Never before had she said so much.

"No, I don't," he said darkly, a mask passing over his tanned features. "You never told me, Ginny. You always refused. Over seven years and you remain silent." He paused. "And maybe that's what you mean by there is too much between us. There's a big fucking secret between us."

"Harry I-" she started. "You won't understand. You don't understand."

"Obviously," he sneered slightly. Ginny narrowed her eyes. "And this is where all the bitterness in you is coming from lately isn't it?" Ginny's eyes widened once more. "This secret is tearing you apart. Ever since it happened, you've changed."

"Well of course I changed," she snapped. "I was a child. I grew up. And you can't possibly believe that I would remain what I was my entire life."

"Well no. It's just-" he stammered.

"Just what?" Ginny demanded. "I stopped obsessing over you and this upsets you? It would have happened with or without my being fried by that bloody lightning. So stop blaming our relationship problems on that. It's my problem. It has nothing to do with us. So just drop it!"

"But-" Ginny raised an eyebrow, looking into the soaking wet man's face. "I love you, Ginny."

"I know," she whispered, all the anger draining away. "I love you too, but not the way you need me too. I think all this has shown me that I'm not the one for you, Harry. Perhaps that's why it happened in the first place. Who knows? All I know is that you need someone who is not as selfish as I am. Someone who can take better care of you."

"You're not selfish, Ginny," he said softly, down-casting his eyes. "After all you have been through, you could never be selfish." 'If you only knew,' she wanted to say, but held it back. Harry needed to be kept ignorant of all that. He wouldn't understand. It would tear down his perfect little world. And the Boy Who Lived had been through far too much in his life. He deserved his perfect world.

"Just forget about it," she said a little desperately. "All of it. Merlin knows everyone else has. Just leave it and move on. So we can carry on with our lives."

"Our lives apart you mean," he whispered. She almost did not catch it.

"It's for the best," she tried, aching to see his eyes. She could always tell what was going on behind his eyes. Most people could not, but she could. "Look," she said suddenly, the situation coming into full force to her mind. "You're soaking wet. Come in and I'll make you some tea."

He remained silent. Slowly then he rose his head. She saw it in an instant. His vivid green eyes were clouded with regret and remorse. He had given up. No longer would she be seen as Harry Potter's red headed girlfriend. She never would again.

"I'd like that," he said softly, a smile gracing his lips.

"So would I," she responded and held the door open.

o-o-o

The room where Draco Malfoy sat radiated power. From the plaques and awards adorning the white walls, to the large, impeccably clean desk opposite the door. Even the window to the right of the desk was larger than any lower official could dream to own. The man seated behind the desk was no exception to this theme of power. Though in his fifties, Timothy Shaw still held himself as though he could kill a man with one hand. The size of his muscles only added to the effect.

"I have a new assignment for you, Draco," the older man said, running a hand through his receding brown hair. "And I know you are not going to like it."

Draco cocked his right eyebrow at this. "And why would that be, sir?" he asked politely. He trusted the man before him as he had Severus Snape while he had attended Hogwarts. Shaw has a similar dark personality, though he was more commando than professor. In all respects he should have taken offense to the man's biting comments, but in a way Draco could relate. He saw too much of himself in the man to take offense.

"Because it's not the type of assignment you are used to," Shaw elaborated, his bushy eyebrows knotting together. "I am putting you on a research detail."

"Pardon?" Draco asked, losing composure for a moment. The man had been right. He did not like this new assignment. Draco had become far to accustom to his missions. He completed them with pride, relishing the surge of adrenaline and the feeling of accomplishment when the job was complete. But now, to be downgraded to a research detail? It was almost laughable if it was not such a disgrace.

"You heard me," Shaw snapped. "I don't like the idea anymore than you do. But the Ministry is pushing me to send someone in and frankly I am reluctant to put you into a stressful situation." Draco made to protest but his superior silenced him with a look. "I would much rather put you on stress-leave but I know the only way I will have you do that is a suspension order. We both don't want that on your record since the entire situation was out of your control."

"So you'll simply shuffle me to research until you require my abilities once more," Draco said darkly, bitterness resonating in his voice. He knew he should not be making such a grand deal of it all. Shaw was only looking out for Draco's well being. His tactics didn't leave much room for his ego however.

"Don't look at it that way," Shaw replied, his eyebrows loosening. "Think of it as a vacation with direction. It will give you the chance to recover and to help the Wizarding World."

"I have nothing to recover from," Draco sneered slightly. "I am perfectly fine now."

"Draco, you might be able to convince others of that bull but I know you too well," the balding man said sternly, leaning forward in his chair. "You and I both know there is more to it than that. If you don't take the time to recover it will only get worse. And then where will you be? You most definitely will not be able to complete your duties as a Protector any longer. This is for the best. We both know it is."

Draco started at the older man, no expression revealing itself on his face. He knew the man spoke the truth. There was no simple answer for any of it. He could ignore it all he wanted but it would never go away.

"I know," Draco finally replied quietly. "I do not like it in the slightest, but I know." He paused for a moment. "So what is it I will be researching then?"

"Counter curses for the Unforgivable," Shaw said simply, turning his attention to search for something in his desk.

"Can't be done," the blonde replied. "It's a waste of time."

"I wouldn't say that," the older man clucked, pulling the drawer out farther. Though his room was impeccably clean, the Head of the Magical Defense Department was far from organized. "They have made quite a bit of progress. A way to delay the Cruciatus Curse for five seconds before impact. Might not seem like much but a lot can happen in five seconds."

Draco remained silent. He had heard rumors of the project but never thought twice as to whether or not it would succeed. Ever since he was old enough to hold a wand he had been told that the Unforgivable curses were unstoppable. One's only proper weapon of choice. But then that was most likely why Shaw had decided this assignment would be good for him. Draco's background in the Dark Arts. A part of his past he still resented with a passion along with the man responsible for it all.

"Ah, here we are," Shaw's voice cut through Draco's musings. He tossed a manila folder labeled "Top Secret" to the blonde. He took it in his long hands. "All you need to know on the history of the project should be in there. I recommend you look over it. There's some pretty high-end information to go over. But nothing that you can't handle, I'm sure."

"When am I expected?" Draco asked, glancing over the file. Pages and pages of notes and diagrams in a messy hand were in there. He instantly assumed it was a male's writing. It had that edge to it. The messy scrawl also struck him as oddly familiar. But he brushed the feeling off. There was no way the two hands could be related.

"One hour," Shaw said, a dark smile pulling at his lips.

"Not one to leave things to the last minute, are we?" Draco sneered, smirking back at the man.

o-o-o

It was Monday, a day Ginny usually hated with a passion. She despised having to get out of bed when it always felt twice as warm and cozy as it did when she first got in. But as of late she did not mind getting up to go to her job.

She was currently working on the sixth floor of the Department of Mysteries. She knew it was so low down because projects had a nasty habit of exploding. At least with the explosion lower down it would not disrupt the building as it would if it had been on a higher level.

Despite this, Ginny did not mind the implications of her lab's location. She knew she was helping to make a difference in people's lives and at the moment that was all she cared about. What she had had before was gone now but she was determined to not let that be the reason she stopped helping.

She had seen far too many tragedies during Voldemort's last years of terror. So many that it still made the bile in her stomach threaten to rise. Perhaps here, amongst the infinite vials and ingredients she could find a way to prevent others from such terrible ends. Save others from a life like Harry's. Or Neville's.

The lab itself was the Office of Technical Research's largest in the Department of Mysteries. Ginny and her team had access to whatever they thought they might need. All they had to do was ask. At current half the team of six were working to find a potion to stop the Killing Curse. While the other half, Ginny included, were attempting to find a hex to stop the Cruciatus Curse. A five second delay was all they had accomplished so far.

Ginny knew she should be proud of the accomplishment. It was a large step towards stopping the curse completely but that was just it: the hex only delayed the effects. Not deflected it or stopped it. The individual was still hit.

With a heavy sigh she looked over her work table. Paper, parchment and other various objects covered the surface, preventing any portion of the oak to shine through. Reaching out she began to shuffle through the notes. Lifting up portions and replacing them to their original positions. The table had a sense of order to it. Albeit an incomprehensible one.

'All these notes,' she thought darkly, flipping trough a pile on Jarvey anatomy. 'And I only want one.'

With a clatter a large section of the notes fell to the ground. A board with a diagram of the Cruciatus Curse had been teetering on the edge of the table for the past week. It had only been a matter of time before it had fallen. Only it brought about three hundred sheets of notes down with it.

"Shit," Ginny swore softly, getting down on her hands and knees, proceeding to gather them all up in some semblance of order. "I need a filing cabinet," she muttered darkly, as the door to the lab opened. Starting a bit, she looked up from the ground to see a tall man in the doorframe. He could have been of average height but from her lowdown position Ginny could not tell.

The man looked about the lab until his eyes settled on her. A sneer playing across his face. Ginny almost gasped in fear until reality took control of her brain. The man before her looked unmistakably like Lucius Malfoy at a glance.

On closer inspection however, she noticed his platinum-blonde hair was much shorter, though it was slicked back in a similar fashion. Yet he had the same cold, calculating steel-gray eyes looking over her as though she was nothing more than a house elf.

His facial structure was one of the first differences. While his father's face had already been filling out with age, his son's was still lean and aristocratically pointed, giving the sneer on his face a sinister edge. His body was the other difference. Ginny could tell that under the expensive clothes he wore there was a large selection of well-toned muscles. The way he held himself left no doubt in her mind that he knew this. It seemed the older Draco Malfoy spent just as much attention on his looks as his younger self had.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" she demanded, not pausing in her gathering.

"Aren't secretaries supposed to be polite, Weasley?" he drawled back, crossing his arms with elegant arrogance. Ginny rolled her eyes at his cocky attitude. The last thing she needed right now was some egotistical prick.

"I am not a secretary," she hissed, stooping lower in order to get a few pieces of parchment that had fallen further under the table. Mentally she swore at herself for wearing such low-cut robes. Or ones with such a high-cut slit.

She could feel his piercing gaze on her and saw him grin with malicious glee out of the corner of her eye. "Janitor then?" he sneered.

"Try head researcher," she snapped, glaring at him with as much venom as she could muster. It was not a difficult task considering who he looked like. A man she had seen in her dreams far too often. For various reasons. The fact that he was her family's sworn enemy helped a bit as well. Or the fact that Harry despised him with a passion she never could understand and doubted she ever would.

Ginny gracefully rose to her feet, not breaking eye contact with the blonde man. He looked her over spitefully. "How did you land that job?" he scoffed accusingly, implying far more then she liked.

"With brains," she said darkly, slapping down the notes in her hand down onto the work table. "A department you are obviously lacking in." She nonchalantly dusted off her cobalt robes.

Malfoy narrowed his eyes at her. "How many of you are there working for the Ministry?" he demanded nastily. Ginny narrowed her eyes as well, not liking the direction of his words. "It's bad enough that your dolt of a father is the Minister for Magic and your insufferable brother is striving to take his place, but you as well? It's bloody nepotism."

"My father is not a dolt," Ginny growled, quickly sweeping the table for her wand. It was no where to be found. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid,' she thought angrily at herself.

"No, I suspect you fancy him brilliant," the blonde sneered. He sauntered towards her.

"Because he is," she sneered back, moving around the table to stand in front of it. She was not about to cower behind some furniture. It was bad enough the git was insulting her family but she drew the line at being intimidated in her own lab.

"He will always be poor in my eyes, Weasley," he drawled. He completed his trek towards her, stopping but a foot away. His movement brought the scent of his expensive after-shave to her nose. She fought off the instinct to inhale deeply.

Narrowing her eyes, her face turning red, Ginny pulled herself up to her full height. She now stood just shy of eye level to him. 'Perhaps he's not that tall,' she thought impishly, knowing full well her heels gave her four inches, bringing her to six feet.

"What my father lacks, or rather lacked, in material wealth," she snarled, glaring at him, brushing her long bangs from her face. "He makes up for in honor and respectability. Something I know your own father lacks. Didn't he scamper off into hiding after his precious master fell?"

Something dark and malevolent passed over Malfoy's features and his posture shifted slightly. He lowered his head, taking a step forward, bridging the gap between them. She could feel his breath hot on her face.

"Do not speak of things your simple mind can not comprehend in such an offhanded manner," he sneered softly, dangerously. There was an edge to his voice that sent chills down her spine. She resisted the urge to shudder.

"I understand more than you think, ferret," she sneered back in a callous voice. She fought to ignore his close proximity. His scent was intoxicating. She could only imagine- 'Stop it,' she snapped at herself and set her jaw.

"I highly doubt you understand much of anything," he hissed. "Much less my family history."

Ginny opened her mouth to respond. To tell him that she had seen far more about his "family" than she ever wanted to. She shut it once more when a sickening wave of dizziness washed over her. With a soft exhale of breath she stepped back, placing her head in her hands.

"Too much for you Weasel?" Malfoy drawled but Ginny did not pay heed. She was more concerned with the throbbing headache that was plaguing her. Her mouth went suddenly dry and she closed her eyes, clutching her head. A sickeningly familiar feeling ripped through her, bringing with it a tidal wave of terrible memories. Her eyes snapped open and she gasped aloud.

"This can't be happening," she whimpered, wide-eyed. "It was over. It can't start again. Not now."

Then it hit her. The hit she had been half expecting and dreading for almost seven years since it had first stopped. It was a force so powerful feeling as though a cleaving knife had been driven straight through her soul and was slowly twisting. Another was ripping at her heart.

She screamed. Blessed darkness threatening to take hold. Through all the pain and agony she saw him. Him and his terrible doings. His vengeful actions.

Ginny felt her legs give way beneath her. She fell forward into the startled arms of Draco Malfoy.

"Not Harry," she moaned in despair before darkness took her conciseness.

o-o-o

A/N: Well that's it. Do you want to know why Ginny's all fainting like? Or why Draco has to go on stress-leave? If you do then please review. This fic will sink or swim depending on you. Hey, that rhymed. I'll just hit myself in the head now...