This chapter will provide more questions than answers and closes the first section of Fire. As noted on the profile, it will not be completed. Please email or PM me if you want your questions answered.

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Part Three

Char

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You have beautiful hair.

At night, she curled a strand of red lock around her finger, and wondered.

-

It had become a habit.

Ginny was curled in a fetal position on the windowsill, staring unseeingly at the rain. The meetings with Draco Malfoy were dangerous, for her and for everybody else, but it was like an addiction that she could not fight. She knew that in some way, he was her escape from her slums, her poverty, and perhaps she was his escape, from a world that no longer seemed real to him.

"Hey."

Ginny turned. Hermione stood there, her pale face gaunt and hollow under the gray light.

"I guess there's no burning today, at least not here," said Hermione, leaning against the wall. "It's raining so bloody hard."

As the years passed and Harry's condition worsened, Hermione had grown more bitter. Her eyes had lost the ability to shine.

"There are magic spells to change the weather, but I guess not," said Ginny, remembering what Draco had told her.

Hermione gave her a strange look, but did not say anything.

"The potion…has it…?" said Ginny, her voice trailing off. The potion had been completed only days ago, but she had not dared to hope.

"We will have to see," Hermione said, frowning. "So far, the effects of the potion follow the book, but I…" Her voice trailed off too, as if she were too tired to talk.

"Hermione, you need to rest," said the younger girl, suddenly guilty that she had an escape, while her friend did not. "You're wasting away."

But Hermione was no longer listening. She seemed to have lost track of the conversation long ago, and looked confused when she realized that Ginny was speaking to her.

Ginny turned back to the rain.

-

Autumn gave way to winter, which was always the bleakest season. London was often too warm for snow, which made everything seemed even grayer than it usually was.

But it had snowed that day. Ginny raised her face to the sky and felt the coolness on her cheeks. It was so strange. Snow recalled to her happier days, when her mother would cook a grand Christmas feast and make hot chocolates for her and her brothers. She sighed. Memories were so fragile. It was hard to hang onto them.

"It's just snow."

Ginny turned to look at Draco, who was impeccably dressed in fancy robes and a heavy cloak, his hands protected from the cold by leather gloves. She looked at her own hands, worn and chapped from the cold.

"It is not just snow," she said.

Draco shrugged as they began to make their way toward the river, which had frozen overnight. "Looking forward to the holidays?"

She heard the light malice in his question.

"We will have a ball, my parents and I," Draco said, knowing that Ginny would not – could not – answer his question. "The finest food will be served. Have you ever had treacle tart? Or pumpkin pie? Or bouillabaisse? Well, these will seem plebian next to the feast that our house-elves would serve."

Ginny thought of the stale food in the pantry, the burned cakes that Lavender Brown brought home from the bakery where she apprenticed.

"The ballroom has mirrors on all four sides. There will be a chandelier lit by enchanted candles. Our guests will be dressed in the finest robes. I had my newest set tailor-made, just the other day. Silvery gray. And I saw the most beautiful dress when I was at the tailor's. Your favorite color is green, is it not?"

"Yes," said Ginny. The same shade of green as Harry's eyes…

"That dress was emerald green, patterned with silver stars," said Draco. He smirked. "It would've looked nice on you, it goes so well with your hair and eyes."

She studied him, trying to understand what he was saying.

"It's just too bad," he said. "You won't be the one wearing the dress. My fiancée Pansy will be."

"I didn't think I would," Ginny said quietly. "I rather prefer my rags."

Draco only laughed.

As their walk slowed to its usual end, he turned to face her, his gaze direct. "It is just too bad that you can't come to the ball, isn't it?" he said.

Then he cupped her face and leaned in.

His kiss was soft despite its coldness, and his hold on her arms was oddly firm. But by the time Ginny thought to respond, he had already pulled away.

"I will be in France, so I shall see you in the spring," he said, with a smirk, and walked away.

-

Ginny was too dazed to notice the expressions on her friends' faces at first.

"What happened?" she said, when she realized that everyone – Lavender, Ron, Hermione, Luna Lovegood, Dean Thomas, and Neville Longbottom – was standing, their faces pale. There was a lingering smell of smoke in the air. Someone – probably Lavender – had been cooking…and had forgotten…

"It's the potion," Hermione said, in a dead voice.

"The potion…" repeated Ginny, suddenly cold.

"We knew something was wrong," Lavender said. "Hermione had been corresponding with an alchemist for a while now…"

What?

Ginny suddenly felt lost, bereft.

"The ingredient was wrong," said Hermione. "I knew an ingredient was wrong, because it didn't look right." She suddenly seized Ginny's arms. "Where did you get the toad's eyes?"

Oh no oh no no no no no

"Why are you always at the marketplace? You're looking for something."

"It's – you won't understand –"

"Tell me."

"Toad's eyes…it's for…"

"I know what it's for. The Rejuvenation Concoction…rather daring of you, isn't it?"

"You won't understand."

"They don't sell it just anywhere, you know. It's pretty incriminating. Well, it doesn't matter. You shall have some by tomorrow."

"Wh – what?"

"It only takes four to make the potion, doesn't it? I don't think my tutor will notice if I take a handful from his lot."

Ginny sprang away from Hermione, panting. "No!" she cried. "No!"

Then she ran up the stairs and into the room that suddenly smelled of death.

-

The ballroom glimmered with lights.

Draco and Pansy danced well together, having practiced since they were young. But even Pansy could tell that he was distracted that night.

"What is it, Draco?" she said, as they stopped to rest.

"I don't know," Draco said. "Something…is wrong."

Pansy reached over and lightly touched his face. "We will have a fine time in France, this winter," she whispered, and kissed him.

Her engagement ring caught the light of the enchanted candles.

-

The marketplace was oddly deserted. It did not take long for Ginny to understand the reason: Draco was not there. He told her that he was not going to be here, and yet, she still came.

She stood there, waiting foolishly, aware of the danger, and still allowing herself to hope. That was her failing, wherever he was concerned.

Even if she wanted to hurt him.

(Even if she wanted to hurt him and let him tell her it was all right and let everything be all right again.)

It was not until the sun was high in the sky and the early stands had long dispersed that Ginny finally admitted to herself, He is not coming.

She ground her teeth against the pain and humiliation.

And she came back to wait for him the next day, as if supernatural forces would transport him from his wonderland in France to the desolate marketplace in London.

As before, and as expected, he did not show up.

On Christmas Day, Ginny sat in Harry's room, holding his thin hands on her lap. She had locked her memories of the blond, gray-eyed boy away by the time she dried the last of her tears.