Chapter Nineteen: Of Life, Death, and Everything in Between
The room he was led to was spacious and empty, save for the individual candles that lined the walls, creating a ring of fire to the unfocused eye. And yet, cold air seeped through his black layers, raising goose bumps along his fair skin. He was among the first to walk in; Blaise had led the way, with Rosa and Goyle buffering his sides. Upon reaching the middle of the room, figures in long black cloaks silently began to fill the room. They formed a large circle around Draco, almost blocking out what little light the candles offered. With the small ring of orange fire-light flickering behind each figure, it looked as if they were demons from Hell.
And perhaps, mused Draco, they were.
Then he noticed the marks on the floor. In black ink, four circles were drawn on the marble ground, with thick lines connecting one to the other, forming a crude diamond. He alone stood in the middle, with Goyle, Blaise, and Rosa each taking a circle. Rosa had taken the spot directly in his line of vision, a sick, twisted sort of smirk lining her face. Slowly, her features began to shift, and in less than two seconds, Rosa was gone, and in her place was his father. Somehow, the smile she had on looked ten times more deadly on his superior.
Draco fought hard to keep his face impassive, but it was hard, considering how badly he wanted to throw a punch at both Rosa and his father.
For Rosa's part, being Lucius Malfoy didn't seem to be as much fun as she thought it was, so another second later, she began to shrink, down to the height of Draco's mid-section. Her long Lucius-hair had shortened, and she her cheeks had become a rosy pink tint. Slowly, she brought her little head up.
Draco stared at his younger self, who was staring back at him with big gray eyes. It was unnerving, try as he might to hide it from his appearance, but there was just something about seeing your younger self, with those big puppy eyes and curious innocence. It struck a cord somewhere inside him, at how innocent he had once been. And how quickly it had gone away.
Then suddenly, little Draco began to grow until he reached the bottom of Draco's chin. The pale skin and white-blond hair had made way for a peachy complexion and fiery locks. Gray eyes turned to hazel, and pale cheeks became scattered freckles.
Something inside him churned. It was uncanny, how perfectly Rosa had gotten Ginny. From the tiny dimple just above the curve of her lip to the way her hair seemed to glow gold with the candlelight. He only realized then, just how greatly he missed her. He wondered where she was now, if she was safe like Rosa promised she'd be. Millions of questions zipped through his mind. Was she thinking of him? Did she miss him too?
Rosa crossed the distance between them, and met his lips in a sigh. He stiffened in response, affected by how it all seemed to feel so right, yet so wrong at the same time. She felt so much like Ginny, and Draco hated himself for thinking so. Her lips were just as soft as he imagined, as were her fingertips, which had slowly began to wrap themselves around his neck. But it was not Ginny. She smelled of fresh petals and a hint of cinnamon. This Ginny, however, smelled of expensive and over-dosed perfume.
With a great deal of sadness, he pursed his lips together, tightly shutting his eyes. Rosa pulled back from the kiss, her mouth hanging slightly open with a look of great surprise. Slowly, she brought a forefinger to touch a spot on her cheek, where a single tear had fallen. She stared at it, then at Draco, who only stared back at her. His face was the epitome of calm, but it was his eyes that betrayed him. They were gray and pained, misty and fogged.
Perturbed, Rosa changed back to herself, regarding Draco in silence.
To his right, Blaise cleared her throat. She seemed to be annoyed for being ignored for so long. "I do hope," she said, "that you understand why we asked you to do this, Draco."
Draco brought his eyes down to stare at his shoes. "I don't remember any of you asking," he said quietly.
"Don't be stupid," she snapped harshly. "You knew it would come to this eventually. You knew the Dark Lord wouldn't stay down for long."
Draco stared at her for a bit, contemplating her words. "I suppose you're right," said he finally. "I suppose on some level, I knew he was too stubborn to know when it was over. Could never take the hint, Big V. I guess that's what'll take him down, eventually, and for good — his stubbornness." A grim smile flitted across his face as he said, "Just like my father."
Blaise could only stare. Draco held her gaze, gray to deep brown, both as intense as the other. Blaise took this chance to gaze deep into his eyes, as if she could find the answers to all her questions somewhere within those steely orbs.
Draco was always such a strange child, she knew. Ever since they were children, and her father and his would allow them to play together, in hopes they'd one day wed and keep the bloodline going. In her summers spent with him, he would always be so unlike what he should have been, and she supposed it had always bothered him. He was such an emotional child, she had observed. Always running around, making such a racket that his father would almost always scold him by the end of the day. A part of her wondered if he was that loud in purpose, because it seemed to her that his father never really noticed him unless he was doing something grand. Or something extremely wrong.
She remembered the nights after every Quidditch defeat, and how he would spend them barricaded inside his room, locking out his roommates so they wouldn't see him do what Blaise always knew he was doing — sulking. He was no weakling; no, Draco Malfoy was far from that. Oh, but he had his flaws. He was a great coward (yes, even Blaise would admit so). He always preferred to wound with his words, rather than his fists. Ironically, it was his gift of a silver tongue that had gotten him in many exchanges of blows.
But he held strong. Throughout his life, he had endured more than what people had only heard of, and Blaise could hardly blame him for the git he had turned out to be. If she were to get honest, she would marvel at how noble, how Gryffindoric he was being with this whole ordeal. She had heard about his sacrifice for the Weasley girl, and it hurt that he would show that kind of affection for someone who hadn't even bothered to try and understand him when she had the chance. Whereas she, who had tried and tried so badly to try and get him to open up to her for so many years, was left in the dust.
Love was a funny and fickle thing, she knew. She had loved him once, but he hadn't her. She figured his past had haunted him too badly for him to actually open up to the concept of love. Perhaps, she mused as she could no longer hold his gaze, he'd be a bigger man this time and stop running away.
Yet it angered her. It was downright insulting that someone so ignorant of Draco's life could have such a place in his heart. She had been there during Draco's defeats. She had seen him wobble into the Slytherin common room, supported by Crabbe and Goyle, bruised and severely battered from having crossed paths with Mad Eye.
And yet he chose Ginny…
Blaise had been through many hardships in her life, but none so damaging as a broken heart to realize that life, as cliché as it sounded, was not the least bit fair.
The office held only one occupant now; Snape had long since taken Granger down to the Infirmary for treatment. Her last vision had left her in a stupor, convulsing from the pain of what she saw. And though he had not seen what she had, his heart ached for them all.
Albus Dumbledore had made many decisions in his life, some bad, some good. Though none did he regret so much as his recent ones. Perhaps he was getting too old for the job…
A loud, derisive snort reached his ears, causing him to smile softly. "Hello Phineas," he greeted somberly. He turned so that he was facing the framed portrait, and sure enough, there was the old Slytherin Headmaster, a defiant frown etched deeply in his face. "Is there something you need?"
"You're a piece of work, you are," the painting said in reply. "I've always known it, and now you've only proved it."
Dumbledore sighed, yet his smile did not waver. "Why, whatever do you mean?" he played along.
This only seemed to rattle Phineas more, and he bristled. "I never trusted your ways," he said seriously. "I never understood why you did the things you did. But I had respect, try as I did to deny it. I respected your devotion to this school. But looking at you now…" He shook his head. "The man before me does not deserve my respect."
A long silence passed between the two as they stared at one another, one disappointed, the other somber.
"I'm sorry you feel that way," Dumbledore said finally. He turned away from the portrait, shoulders sagging in self pity.
Phineas scoffed. "Now you're feeling sorry for yourself. Pathetic."
Almost angrily, Dumbledore whirled around and asked, "What would you like me to do? Waltz on over to the Riddle House, completely unprepared, wave my wand around and cast spells like some maniac?"
The portrait smiled then, looking dangerously Slytherin-like. "Yes."
The Headmaster blinked, bewildered.
Suddenly, an old woman in silver sidled into Phineas's portrait, covering her mouth as she whispered something into the older Headmaster's ear. He turned to Dumbledore then, and in an oddly casual voice, said, "There's a Ginny Weasley here to see you."
It was late October, way into the Quidditch season, yet the Infirmary only held one occupant. The atmosphere was grim, and the tension was thick. Snape watched from afar as Madam Pomfrey tended to her only patient, tutting and quietly muttering to herself. She was bitter and tired, and Snape understood. He had not explained the reason for Granger's condition, under Dumbledore's orders (not that he would have without). She'd passed out after her last vision, though her face contorted in pain every once and a while. She was a strong girl, Snape knew. She'd made it clear in all of her years attending the school. She would not die.
He hoped she wouldn't.
His eyes grew dark and pained as Granger convulsed again, her eyes shut tight. She made no noise, save for the clatter of silver as she knocked over a nearby tray.
Snape hated to feel hopeless, yet there he was, brooding in it. Pomfrey quickly threw her hands over the young woman, pinning her arms down as her legs kicked out. Then suddenly it was all over; Granger had stilled, her limbs going limp. Feeling sick, Snape quickly made his way towards the exit, pausing only after hearing Madam Pomfrey gasp.
Granger had opened her eyes. She gasped aloud, bolting up in her bed. "Malfoy!" she nearly shouted, panicked.
Snape rushed to her bedside, completely ignoring Pomfrey's disbelieving squabble. "What about Malfoy?" he asked, urging her on. "What did you see?"
Granger turned to him, her eyes wide and teary. "Nothing," she said, voice trembling. "I didn't see anything."
Calculate, scheme, plan. Draco weighed his options. The room was large enough, but too heavily guarded for a clean escape. They'd stripped him of his wand so any plan dealing with spells were out of the question. His eyes darted around the room, looking for every exit possible.
There was only one — the double doors they had led him through. And that was a good twenty, thirty feet away — a snap for someone with his build and skill.
Yet he was surrounded. Rosa to his front, Blaise and Goyle to his left and right. Behind him was a wall of Death Eaters.
He turned to his right, where Blaise was eyeing him silently. She seemed to know what he was thinking, for she slowly shook her head. Soundlessly, Draco sighed. She was right, he knew.
This was it.
Turning so that he now saw Goyle, a small smile flitted across his features.
He might as well go out with a bang.
Think Mission: Impossible, Harry thought to himself, as he and Ron crept through the barren hallways of the Riddle House. Almost immediately after the thought had processed, the theme song sprang into his mind, which inadvertently caused him to lose his footing and stumble into Ron's back.
Ron turned to him, brows raised. "What?" he whispered, and Harry mouthed a mute "Sorry". Ron frowned at this, and stood up from his crouched positions to frown even deeper at Harry. "I don't understand what we're doing," he whispered again, as Harry began to stand upright.
"I'm not exactly sure," Harry admitted, a hand going to rub the back of his neck. "I didn't really expect the Riddle House to be this big. I kind of figured we'd stumble into them or something." Upon seeing Ron's exasperated look, he threw up his arms in defense and said, "Hey, it always worked before."
Ron rolled his eyes. "I can't believe this!" he whispered harshly. "This is crazy. We might as well walk up to Pansy and have her hack us off."
Harry lowered his arms, a sardonic tone in his reply. "The whole point is finding Pansy."
"Well, what do we do now, hero?" chided Ron, long arms coming up to his waist. His position reminded Harry highly of Molly in one of her tantrums, and the thought alone brought a grin to his face. Now Ron just looked angry. "What?"
"Nothing," Harry said, all too quickly. He began to look around, seeing nothing but hallway and doors. "Maybe we should split up or — " Harry stopped, the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rising. Beside him, Ron opened his mouth to question him, but was stopped by Harry's shushing hand. His breathing deepened, as he fought to keep his heart from thumping out of his chest. He could feel the air around him get tense, and his grip on his wand tightened. He could feel someone creeping up behind him, the old wooden floor not giving away anything. Years and years of battling for his life had sharpened his senses, and in just a few seconds, it could be over.
Then, in one quick motion, he spun around, wand aimed and ready at his pursuer. "Stupe — " However, the spell quickly died in his mouth upon seeing just who his pursuer really was. Harry stared, with his eyes wide open and jaw slacking, as his hand fell limp at his side, his wand forgotten on the floor.
"For a plan so important," drawled Draco, "it sure takes a long while to begin."
Goyle let out a small scoff. "You're surprisingly impatient for someone who's about to die." He, as well as the two women, had not moved from their positions since they'd gotten there.
Draco found himself grinning at his old friend's words. "I've always liked you Goyle," said he. "Crabbe may have been the bigger man, but he was unbelievably slow on the uptake." He paused, looking thoughtful. "Well, more so than you."
Goyle's grin faded almost immediately. He shifted indignantly, his mouth a tight frown on his face. Crabbe had been one of the many casualties lost in the War, and he had not completely gotten over it just yet.
"What's the matter?" chided Draco in mock concern. "Death not a good topic for you?"
"Not his."
The smile that appeared on Draco's face would have scared the hoods off of any Dementor. "I can understand why," he said, his voice a dangerous drawl. "It was horrible. And painfully slow. I couldn't begin to describe the look on his face once it had finally registered in his mind. I doubt he'd even heard the words, just saw his attacker's mouth move and form that curse. A pity, really… Such stupidity and brawn wasted."
Goyle, having heard enough, launched himself on Draco, knocking both of them down on the floor before Rosa's feet. "Take it back!" Goyle growled, large hands gripping the other man's neck firmly. Draco gagged and coughed against Goyle's hold, legs flailing about as the other man straddled him.
"Goyle! Get a hold of yourself!" screamed Blaise. She and Rosa had not moved from their spot, even with the two men practically on their feet.
"Take it back!" Goyle shouted again, shaking Draco like he was a rag doll.
"Goyle — honestly!" sighed Rosa, and gave the man a rough kick on the shoulder. He stumbled off of Draco, eyes squinted in fury as he staggered back to his position. Draco remained on the ground, holding his neck and coughing.
"He was more of a man than you will ever be," said Goyle, fists clenched on either side of him.
"Goyle — stop." Now Blaise had joined Rosa in the scolding. "He's just trying to provoke you."
Goyle let out a low growl. "You'll get yours," he muttered darkly.
Smiling softly, Draco did not bother to argue. He doesn't even notice it's gone…
"I don't believe it."
Harry's eyes must have been playing him. There was absolutely no way that what he was seeing was actually there. Though he could not help the rush of excitement upon seeing this so-called mirage, or the smile that appeared on his lips. But it must have been real, for Ron, whose mouth hung in shock beside him, was seeing it too. But there just was no way he was seeing Albus Dumbledore standing right in front of him, flanked by Sirius, Lupin, Snape, Hermione, and…
"Ginny!" cried Ron, who quickly made his way towards his sister, eventually enveloping her in a big bear hug.
Ginny smiled and patted his back awkwardly — he was apparently hugging her a bit too much. "I'm happy to see you too, Ron."
"I don't understand," he said as he held her back at arm's length. "You were here — you were kidnapped."
"I was," Ginny answered, a sad smile on her lips. "But Draco sacrificed himself so that Rosa would let me go."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" said Ron suddenly, holding up a hand to stop her. "Who's Rosa? And since when was it 'Draco'?"
"They've been through a lot together, Ron," said Hermione, wobbling up towards him. Ron stared, distracted, getting his first real look at her. She had bandages around her head, and a slight limp when she walked.
"'Mione," he said, eyes widening at her condition. "What happened to you?"
"It's not important," she dismissed with a frail wave of her hand.
Ron merely nodded, still stunned from all the new information. "Alright," he said, and quickly hugged her too.
"What in the world are you guys doing here?" Harry asked, almost laughing in disbelief.
"We came here to rescue you," said Sirius, grinning madly. "But it appears you don't need the help."
"How?" Harry asked, stunned.
It was Dumbledore who answered, looking a bit embarrassed. "Well, we used the front door, actually. I suppose everyone is already in the room."
"What room?" asked Ron and Harry both, Ron still holding Hermione.
"The Drawing Room, I think," replied Dumbledore. "But I wouldn't know for sure."
"They're doing some sort of ritual in there," said Ginny, wringing her hands in worry. "If we don't hurry soon…"
"She's right," spoke up Lupin, who quickly stepped towards Harry and Ron. "Do you two need any healing done before we go?"
They shook their heads. "No," said Harry.
There came a grunt from Snape suddenly, who was clutching his left hand in pain. "We'd better get a move on," he said. "It's close."
"What exactly are we going to do?" asked Ron, finally releasing Hermione.
Dumbledore sighed. "I haven't a clue." Then he took out his wand. "Shall we?"
"Finally," sighed Blaise.
Draco watched as the doors opened, and a hooded Pansy Parkinson (hood or no hood, he'd know that girl anywhere) walked in, a beaded purse hung around one shoulder. She held a smoking goblet in one hand, a simple silver dagger in the other.
"What took you?" Blaise snapped, hands on her hips.
Pansy ignored her, promptly stepping unto the last circle of the diagram, the goblet simmering in her hand.
"Hello Draco," she greeted. She put her hood down, observing him. "Feeling alright?"
"Dandy," was his reply.
Pansy smiled. "Shall we?" she asked, holding out the goblet for him to take.
"What's that for?" inquired Draco, suspicious.
"It's a potion," she answered simply. "It'll make the transfer between souls less painful."
"How nice of you," Draco drawled as he took the goblet in his hands. He sniffed it; it smelled of cabbages and milk. Wrinkling his nose in distaste, he hated to think what it'd smell like going down his throat. Sighing at his terrible luck, he said, "Well, here goes nothing." He held the goblet up in salute, then tipped the cup in his mouth, the thick liquid barely making him gag.
He finished the contents, smacking his lips at the awful taste. Suddenly he felt his body lighten, and soon enough his whole body began to give off an ethereal glow. There was a hard throbbing in the pit of his chest and temples, making his vision fuzzy. He felt oddly detached, like he was no longer inside his own body.
He turned to Pansy, eyes curious. She smiled in approval. "Don't worry," she told him. "It's not the end just yet. It's merely the preparation." She then held out her purse, from which she pulled out a familiar black, battered diary, a glass bowl, and a clear case of what looked to be fire. She set them on the floor neatly, the glass bowl directly in front of Draco.
"For the ritual to work," Pansy explained, "we'd be needing a bit of the Dark Lord's past — " she pointed to the diary " — his present — " she gestured toward the glass bowl " — and his future." She picked up the last item, allowing Draco to get a real good look at the case's content. It was a lock of hair. But not just any hair. What he thought was fire was merely strands of deep red, tinted with golden streaks. There was no doubt in his mind to whom it belonged to.
"You snake," he turned to Rosa, enraged. "You promised you wouldn't hurt her."
"I said I wouldn't," the shape-shifter answered haughtily. "I never mentioned anything about the Dark Lord."
Pansy grinned as Draco glared viciously at Rosa. She held out the dagger. "We'll be needing your blood now," she said casually. "For his present."
Draco shot a dubious look at the glass bowl placed in front of him, then to the dagger Pansy steadily held. "Promise that nothing happens to Ginny," he demanded.
Pansy frowned. "I can't make that kind of guarantee," she told him.
But Draco was adamant. Thrusting out a glowing hand, he said again, "Promise."
"The Dark Lord does as he pleases," Pansy insisted. She was staring at his hand like it was poison.
"The deal was my life for hers!" Draco shouted, his hand never faltering. "Now promise."
Pansy shot a disdainful look towards Rosa, who cowered beneath it. "I'll see what I can do," she said. "And that's the most I can give you."
Draco stared at her for a moment, before asserting his outstretched hand once again. "Shake on it."
Pansy sighed soundly before taking his hand. "Now do your part," she said, handing him the dagger once again. He took the dagger from her, a loud thump resounding in his ears. His vision split and doubled, and for a second he thought he had fallen down. The potion seemed to be having it's full effect on him now, and for the first time since he'd stricken that deal with Rosa, he was afraid. Staring at the dagger against the pale of his hand, he found himself wishing for those miracles that seemed to be reserved only for the heroes.
Inhaling deeply, he positioned the blade over his right wrist. He blinked a few times; his vision was getting worse by the moment and his left hand had taken on a horrible twitch. After willing his hand to still, he finally felt the cold blade make contact with his wrist. Just one push, and it'll all be over. Yet it seemed the closer the blade was to his skin, the worse his vision and overall control of his body became. He could feel Voldemort's soul somewhere deep inside him, growing stronger and waiting.
He glanced at the lock of hair. For you.
He weighed his hand down, feeling the slight sting in his wrist as the blade cut through his skin. Catching the slightest hint of crimson in his blurry vision, his nerve left him, and the dagger fell to the ground with a clatter. He watched as the world around him swirled in slow motion, gravity weighing down on his body until he, too, was on the ground. His eyes rolled back into his head, and then the doors flew open.
Ginny followed the older persons as they mindlessly searched every room in the House. It was only when Hermione had managed to alter her "Point Me" charm did they make any progress.
She took a slightly slower pace as she felt her heart beat against her chest, and a sudden rush of dizziness overwhelmed her. They were close; she could feel it. She could feel him, too, and his own heart as it slowly faded.
It was Sirius who had kicked the doors open, and they all rushed in with their wands ready.
And then she saw him on the floor, a white glow around him and a small trail of crimson liquid along his wrist.
"DRACO!!!"
Many things happened at once; the Death Eaters that lined the wall scrambled towards them, some hesitant from shock. The four that surrounded Draco's body remained where they were, though they shouted orders and reached for their wands. "My wand!" Goyle yelled, patting his robes frantically. "Where's my wand?!"
Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Harry, and Ron charged toward them, throwing hexes here and there. Hermione, in her injured state, lingered around the doors, though that did not stop her from throwing her own hexes.
Ginny, herself, had her mind set. Forgetting about her own safety, she shot towards Draco's unmoving body, knowing deep in her heart that he was still alive. Still running, she aimed her wand and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" sending Blaise, Rosa, and Goyle back a few feet unto their backs. Pansy, unharmed, pointed her own wand at Ginny, but before she could get her mouth open, a crimson spark hit her from the side, knocking her down. A few feet away, Ginny saw Ron give her a bit of a nod before turning back into the fray.
After silently thanking him, she dropped down to her knees and gripped Draco's hand. "Please," she said. "Wake up. I know you're in there somewhere." She stared at his face, which looked so much paler from the glow emitting around his body. "Wake up."
"Ginny!" Harry called suddenly. She looked up to see him trying to block hex after hex from the three Death Eaters that were advancing on him. They were losing, slowly but surely. There came a scream from somewhere near the doors, which was followed by a loud, "No!" from her brother.
"Draco, please," she cried, tears staining her cheeks. "Fight it!"
She gave his hand one final squeeze before jumping up to join the fight.
He slit his wrist, watching as the colored liquid spread then spill to the floor, a crude heart-shape forming from the puddle it made in the bowl. His arm grew limp, and the blade fell to the ground, forgotten. In the back of his head and the base of his ears he heard a laughter, manic and booming. His body began to spasm, bending this way and that, though he felt nothing. His arms, once at his control, were flailing about as if out of their own recognition. He could feel a pain in the depths of his chest, like his insides were being wrenched away by hands so cold it felt like winter itself. The laughter grew stronger and more solid, as he felt the air in his lungs go cold.
And just when it felt close to the end, a flame burst somewhere deep within his heart.
The cold was leaving; the fire was back.
Draco awoke to the sound of hexes being thrown and bodies hitting the floor. He groaned; his head felt like it had been split with an axe, though it was nothing compared to the rest of his body. He struggled to a sitting position, taking a moment to get his mind to stop spinning. He looked at his wrist, and nearly gagged to see his blood still leaking out. No wonder his head was murdering him.
"Draco!!!" he heard Ginny scream suddenly, and he started. Suddenly he was brought back to reality, seeing the battle engaging before him. He got up, albeit wobbly, and started towards them to help when suddenly he stopped, realizing he didn't have his wand.
Then something in his mind clicked. Goyle's wand! He dug into his pockets, pulling out the wand with a triumphant look on his face. Granted, he got the air squeezed out of him for it, but all in all, it was worth it. He mentally thanked his father (ironic, yes) for all those harsh lessons in sleuth, before aiming at a pack of Death Eaters advancing towards Ginny.
"Impedimenta!" She sent him a thankful smile before attacking another Death Eater that was just about to sneak up on Lupin. Draco smiled to himself, proud over what he'd just done. But before he could do any more…
"Malfoy, look out!"
A sharp jolt hit his back, sending him to his knees, and before he knew it, all was black.
Again.
Draco groaned, waking up for the he-didn't-know-how-many-ith time that day, only to find himself in Hogwart's Infirmary, wearing that blasted polyester-cotton pajama again. If it hadn't been for the immense pain running through his body, he might've thought the whole ordeal had been just a dream.
"You're awake."
Draco jumped. He hadn't even seen Ginny where she sat in the seat beside his bed. Her right arm was covered in bandages, while a red-stained gauze ornamented her head. Her face was smudged with dirt and her hair looked a mess, but Draco had never seen her so beautiful. She got up from her seat, smiling tentatively as she took a step towards him.
"How do you feel?"
"Like hell," he said, lifting a hand to rub his temple only to realize that both his arms were covered in bandages. He groaned. "What happened?"
"You took quite a hex to the back and you passed out," Ginny explained.
Draco nodded, but said nothing. He frowned, looking down at himself. His head was throbbing with questions, yet he found no strength in voicing any of them.
Ginny sighed beside him. "Well I've got to go," she said, looking apologetic. "I promised Snape and Dumbledore I'd inform them once you were awake. But I'll be back," she added reassuringly.
Draco nodded, giving her a small smile. She smiled in return and left. And just as Draco thought he'd get some privacy, his least favorite person arrived.
"Hey," said Harry, standing at the foot of his bed.
"Geez, Potter," Draco said. "You look worse than I feel." And it was true. Aside from his head practically being covered in bandages (though you can bet there were quite a few strands of jet-black hair peeking through), there were scratches all over his cheeks and neck. His left arm was in a sling, while his right hand was bandaged and gauzed.
"Good to see you too," replied Harry.
Draco sighed. "So what have you come to stick to me today?" he asked.
Harry chuckled slightly. "Nothing, actually. Just thought you'd like to know what happened to your friends."
Draco's glare turned icy at Harry's words. "They weren't my friends."
Harry held up his hand in surrender. "Alright alright, no need to get worked up. In any case, they've all been sent to Azkaban, though the Ministry's insisting on trials."
"Will I have to testify?"
"No," said Harry. "Luckily for you, Dumbledore's making it a point to leave you out of it as much as possible. Figures you'd been through enough, I guess."
Draco let out a relieved sound. "Good." There was a pause. "So… What happened after I, uh…"
"Passed out like a pansy?" Harry smiled.
"After I was brutsally attacked," Draco bit out angrily.
"Not much, really," he shrugged. "We took care of the Death Eaters well enough — none of them were the originals, so their skills pretty much sucked."
Draco nodded. "That's good."
Harry gave him a half-smile. "You did good, y'know."
Draco looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what you did for Ginny," Harry explained. "Sure, you pretty much sold out the entire world, but you still risked your own life to save her. You did good." He grinned suddenly. "Hurts, doesn't it?"
"You have no idea."
"In any case," said Harry. "Thanks. For what you did."
Draco made a face. "Don't be getting all sentimental on me, Potter. I still hate you and your little friends."
Harry laughed a little, nodding. "I know. Don't worry, we all hate you too — Ron, especially, actually, after hearing what you did for Ginny. Burns him up to feel in debt to a Malfoy, I gather."
"You tell him I want full payment too."
Before Harry could reply, Ginny had returned with Snape and Dumbledore in tow. "Ah, Mister Malfoy," said Dumbledore, holding out his hands. "How are you?"
"Alive," said Draco.
"Wonderful," smiled Dumbledore. He then turned to Harry and Ginny. "I wonder if you two might give us some privacy. I'll be sure not to take too much of Mr. Malfoy's rest time." Once the two had left, he turned back to Draco, smiling still. "This has been quite a trip for you, Mister Malfoy."
Draco grunted. "Quite."
"But it's not over yet," said Snape. Draco looked at him, worried. "There's still the matter of Voldemort's soul in you."
Draco groaned. "There's just no stopping it!" he shouted, sighing loudly.
"If I might suggest a solution," Dumbledore said, raising a long finger. Draco turned to him, interested. Slowly, Dumbledore drew out a long, battered wand.
"What are you going to do?" Draco asked warily.
"There's no need to worry," smiled Dumbledore. "This is merely a transfer."
Draco stared. "Where are you going to transfer Voldemort's soul?" At this, Snape looked away and Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. Draco's eyes widened at Dumbledore. "In you?"
"Consider it my last chance to, er, 'stick' it to Voldemort," Dumbledore said happily. "He'd just hate it, I imagine, to know his soul's residing within his least favorite teacher."
"No way," Draco said suddenly and with much conviction, so much so that both adults stared at him in surprise. "There's no doubt that those goons, or anybody else for that matter, will be back for Voldemort's soul, and where will that leave you?"
Dumbledore smiled at this, looking proudly at him. "Fear not for me Mister Malfoy," he said. "Believe me when I say that Voldemort's soul will pass on."
Draco stared at the old Headmaster, who only continued to smile merrily. Finally, Snape spoke up, looking somewhat distressed. "Surely there's another way, Headmaster."
"Now, Severus, don't deny an old man his last request," pouted Dumbledore.
Draco nearly choked, the pieces clicking in his mind. "You're dying?" he asked in a hushed whisper.
Dumbledore smiled at him, looking amused. "For a while now," he answered sincerely.
"But," started Draco, almost refusing to believe it. He couldn't be… This was Dumbledore! Dumbledore doesn't die! "Why?"
"I imagine it was during the War," he said, looking thoughtful. "But I'm an old man," he grinned. "It was only a matter of time."
"But — you can't," said Draco, shaking his head. "You can't die."
"I very much can," said Dumbledore in a slightly stern voice. "I'm no immortal, Mister Malfoy. This is all just a part of life's cycle. Now, if you'll just allow me to take Voldemort with me, you'll make me a very happy man indeed."
Draco frowned and turned to Snape for help. But he had looked away again, a pained expression on his face. He turned back to Dumbledore, sighing. "Alright," he said, hating it.
"Marvelous," said Dumbledore giddily, and he proceeded to aim his wand at Draco's heart. "Now this won't hurt a bit." He closed his eyes, muttering words that Draco could not decipher under his breath. Draco watched as his body began to glow that same eerie glow he had after drinking Pansy's potion. He felt Dumbledore poke him slightly, his muttering becoming more urgent. Draco watched in awe as the glow began to move towards Dumbledore's wand and travel up before it final came to rest within Dumbledore himself. He opened his bright blue eyes in a snap, then smiled. "All done," he said.
Draco only nodded. He was feeling slightly empty for some reason.
"Well then," said Dumbledore, looking as if nothing had happened, "if you'll both excuse me, I hear there're some delicious dumplings being served down in the Hall." With that, he left.
Snape finally looked at Draco, looking as solemn as Draco felt. "Y'know, I never really liked him when I was in school," Draco admitted tearfully.
Snape nodded knowingly. "He's a great man." Draco only nodded, sniffing slightly. Snape moved to Draco's side, sighing. "You're a lot more trouble than you're worth, Mister Malfoy."
Draco laughed suddenly, choking on the tears he nearly spilled. "You always tell me that," he said.
"Because it's true," replied Snape, giving Draco one of the few smiles he had. A moment between the teacher and pupil passed before Snape spoke up again. "I should call your mother," he said, making Draco start.
"My mother?" he said. "But she's in St. Mungo's."
"Not anymore," Snape told him. "She'd made a miraculous recovery and was admitted out a few days ago. She's been here to visit you, actually."
Draco made a face. "For how long was I out?"
Snape smirked at him. "Two weeks."
"Draco? Oh, Hello Professor." Ginny stopped short of Draco's bed, her face slightly pink. "Professor Dumbledore told me it was alright to come back in."
"Yes, well, I was just on my way," said Snape, looking slightly ruffled by the presence of a Gryffindor. He brushed past Ginny, not once looking at her, and pushed past the doors. And that left Draco and Ginny alone, smiling awkwardly at each other. Ginny shuffled on her feet a bit before taking a few steps closer.
"How are you?" she asked.
"A bit overwhelmed," Draco admitted with a frown.
"A lot's happened to you," Ginny reasoned.
"To you too," Draco said softly, looking at her. "I'm sorry for everything."
Ginny's eyes went wide, her cheeks flushing a red tint. "Oh don't be!" she squeaked. "You saved my life! If it wasn't for you — "
"Your life wouldn't have been in danger in the first place," he interrupted. He shook his head. "They kidnapped you because of me — "
"But it wasn't your fault," she insisted. "I don't blame you Draco, so why should you blame yourself?"
Draco sighed. He wanted to argue with her but he honestly didn't think there was much use in it.
"Thank you, by the way," Ginny spoke up suddenly. She was looking at her feet. "For the whole 'saving me' thing." In a bold move, she sat on the edge of his bed, surprising Draco. "It meant a lot to me."
"Er, you're welcome." He wondered if he should make a grab for her hand, which she had placed dangerously close to his own. He frowned, suddenly remembering something. "When I was out," he said, "I… heard you. You were telling me to fight it." He looked into her eyes. "How did you know I wasn't gone?"
Ginny blushed furiously, and she turned away. Draco panicked, wondering if he had said something wrong, when she spoke. "Well, I'm not really sure why — well, I have a hunch, but I can't tell for sure, and even then it doesn't make any sense at all, but I'm pretty sure — "
"Ginny, please," Draco said, looking pained.
"Oh," blinked Ginny. "Right. Well, I guess the only way I can say it is that I felt you weren't gone." Draco gave her a blank look, and she bit her lip. "I don't really know why but, I'm thinking when I jumped into that… circle thing, the spell that Blaise had cast, it… Well, it kind of made me able to know what you feel."
"You mean you know what I'm feeling? At any time?"
"Kind of, yes." Ginny gave him a weak smile. "Surprise."
Draco just stared at her. "Do you know what I'm feeling right now?"
Ginny concentrated on him, her eyes squinted. "Confused. Overwhelmed. Shocked. A bit angry. Kind of hungry, too."
Draco pulled a face. "Wonderful. Even I didn't know that!"
"I'm so sorry," said Ginny sincerely. "Believe me, I know what it's like to have your privacy trespassed — I live with six brothers, afterall. I never meant to do this." Her eyes went wide. "Are you mad at me?"
Draco gave her a surprised look. "No! Why would you — Oh…" He blushed, his pale pinks turning slightly pink. "No I'm not mad at you."
"Then who — "
"I don't know," snapped Draco. "I don't… I just have a lot on my mind, alright?"
Ginny nodded, and made to get off his bed when his hand stilled her. She looked at him, surprised, only to see that he had turned his head away, a deep frown on his face, but his hand was gripping her's tightly. She smiled knowingly, and sat back down.
"Don't worry," she said softly. She covered his hand with her own, squeezing lightly. "I won't leave you." They sat there in silence, the heat from their hands radiating off the other, as Draco struggled to find his voice. Memories of the past 'adventure' whizzed by his eyes, some he still had a hard time believing actually happened. One in particular that seemed rooted to the back of his mind.
I love you…Draco shut his eyes tightly, his mind burning as the memory overwhelmed him. "You know you never answered me," he said finally, causing Ginny to jump slightly.
"Pardon?"
"That night in the bedroom," he began, his eyes still closed. "When I asked you why you…"
"Loved you?" Ginny finished. Draco only nodded. "I don't know, honestly," Ginny admitted. "But I know I do."
"But why?" he asked, eyes snapping open to glare at her accusingly. "Why me?"
"I don't know that one either," Ginny answered. "You can't choose who you fall in love with, Draco. Life doesn't work that way."
"Do you regret it then?" he asked icily, turning away.
"No," she said lightly. She looked down at their joined hands. He followed her gaze. "It's true, what you said before. Love isn't always beautiful. But if you let me, I can show you that it sometimes is." She was looking into his eyes now, which she had drawn away from their hands. "You may not want to hear it, but I know you have love in your heart somewhere. I don't know for who or what, but you do." She held his hand up to lay against her chest, letting him feel her heart beating. "Please," she said, though it sounded far from begging. "Let me love you."
Draco didn't say anything to that, but he didn't need to. Ginny already knew.
She smiled. "I love you too."
Fin.
A little note:
Well I can't believe it's finally over. An apology might be in order, actually, for the unbelievable amount of time I spent on this fic. oo Terribly sorry. I started this fic over a year ago (maybe even more so) and my writer's block had come to visit me many, many times during that time. But thank you to my readers who've not lost faith in me. ; I really hope this fic was worth it.
Throughout this fic, my skills as a writer grew. You can see clearly, with the first chapter, to the very last, how my writing has changed. (For the better, I hope). I'd grown a lot writing this fic, and I know my mistakes. I wrote this after creating my own version of Draco, which, for some, may work. But for me, it only clouded the beauty of his true character, which I highly regret. But I know better now, and it'll show, hopefully, in my future fics.
Will there be a sequel? Well, it's likely. The idea for a sequel had been in my head for a very long time now — as early as chapter 10 — but I can't guarentee it'll be written. We all know how lousy I am at updating. ;
To clear some things up, I had originally intened chapter nineteen to be the 'action' chapter, with a chapter twenty as the aftermath. But somewhere down the line, I decided to just join the two together. So if some of you are a little confused as to the pace of the last scene, yes, Dumbledore is dying. Yes, Narcissa made a full recovery (she was only mad because she thought she lost her family, remember? She didn't know who Draco was because she could only sense Voldemort's soul in him). And yes, Draco does love Ginny.
Some people I'd like to thank, for they've helped me throughout the writing of this fic…
Joya: For almost always being the first to review, and generally always believing in me. Thank you so much; you made me feel like it was worth it.
Erika: For your great insight in everything HP. You helped me see the wonders and depth in Draco, and gave me hope when I was starting to lose some in redeption!Draco.
Eiko: For being as quirky as you are (it's Fatum! XD), and having so much faith in Ron that inadvertently helped me have as much in Draco.
And finally, my reviewers: Without you guys, this fic would be nothing! You're all the reason I write! Thank you!
With Love,
Jonah