Oaths and Allegiances


***********************************************


PROLOGUE

Smoke filled the battlefield and hung in the air, thick and putrid. The stench from hundreds of spells hitting flesh filled his nose as he made his way through the bodies, looking for a glimpse of Pansy and Blaise.

Before he could register the sound and dodge the beam of light, a Slashing spell hit him and he crumpled to the ground in pain. Curse after curse hit him and he was sure that he was screaming; in fact, he could hear himself, as if from a distance, but was unable to stop it. He wasn't even sure that the spells weren't coming from his side. At this point, he didn't trust anyone.

A voice rang out in the fog, clear and bell-like, stopping his assailant, he supposed. The pain was no longer so great. When he was able to open his eyes again, he found himself into Ginny Weasley’s concerned brown eyes.

“Get up, Malfoy, you’re embarrassing yourself,” she said as she hauled him up and dragged him to the shelter of a nearby building.

Draco looked at her quizzically. Shouldn’t you be stopping me?” he asked her. “Death Eater, and all that?”

“Stopping you from what?” she asked wryly. “Watching your friends’ backs? Throwing up impediment charms when the higher-ups of your outfit have someone captured? Healing wounds on the battlefield?” She scoffed. “Why would I stop that, Malfoy? You’re a greater asset to the Order of the Phoenix than some of our actual members.”

“I don’t do all that.”

She laughed. “Okay.”

“I don’t.”

“Whatever it takes to get you through the day, Malfoy,” she said, rolling her eyes.

He scowled at her and raised his sleeve, baring the arm that held the Dark Mark. “If you’re in doubt, little girl, as to what I actually am, here’s your proof.”

Ginny gave a cursory look at the lines on his forearm, and shrugged. “I have a butterfly on my arse,” she said, unimpressed. “Do I like butterflies? I did when I was seventeen. I’m rather over them, now.”

Draco re-buttoned his sleeve and looked at her skeptically.

She wore an blank expression. “Right. I have to go. Don’t get yourself killed, Malfoy. You’ve been a huge help. We’d hate to lose you,” she quipped over her shoulder.

And then she disappeared into the smoke.

Draco sat still for a moment puzzling at what had just happened to him. The Weasley girl had likely saved his life.

***

As the months dragged on, so did the war. Ginny noticed on more than one occasion after that incident that it felt as if she were being watched. Every so often, she knew that she felt someone's eyes on her back, but when she'd turn around, no one was there. It irked her, and one afternoon she got so fed up that she pulled a complicated little move that she had learned from Fred and doubled back on the man following her.

She couldn't stop the smirk that crept onto her face when she realized who it was.

Sneaking up behind him, she whispered, "You're spectacularly bad at stealth, you know."

Startled, Draco turned around and scowled. "Am not."

"Are so." Ginny shrugged. "But you can lie to yourself if you like. I think it's cute, Malfoy."

"I am not cute."

Ginny grinned at him and shivered as a sharp wind seemed to blow right through her cloak. "Are so."

Draco frowned. "Do you want to get a cup of tea?" he asked, pointing to a shop across the road from them.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Is this the sort of thing they teach you in Death Eater intimidation school? If so, you might want to change the curriculum. It's really not scary at all. Not even a little bit."

Draco bit back a chuckle and looked at her, amused. "Not even a little? I got really high marks on intimidation and terror."

Ginny nodded. "Oh, yes. I changed my mind. You're truly frightening," she replied, laughing. "But I really have to finish my patrol and get back."

Draco's face morphed into a scowl and he exhaled heavily. "Listen Weasley. You're at the corner of Fuck and All and no one in that shop will recognize me. Or you, for that matter."

"It's not a matter of being recognized."

"Oh?" Draco asked. "What is it a matter of then? I'm not asking you to commit to a binding ceremony, Weasley. I'm asking you to tea."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Alright," she replied slowly. "A cup of tea sounds lovely, thanks."

He nodded his approval, and strolled over to open the door of the shop, gesturing towards the inside. "After you."

George is bound to pop out and say 'gotcha' at any second, she thought to herself. Looking up at Draco's face as she passed by him, entering the warmth of the shop, she smiled. But I rather hope not.

****

Every few days he'd pop out of nowhere and they would exchange pleasantries. Ginny found that she liked him a great deal. He was cordial, and even charming on occasion. He conversed easily, although they had to stick to neutral topics for the most part. She learned that he was fiercely loyal to his friends, and that he'd do anything to protect them.

On her rotation to patrol the town and surrounding villages and ruins of Bath, she ran into him unexpectedly, yet again.

"Fancy meeting you here," she commented

"Oh, yes, well I live--" He stopped abruptly, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "I forget I can't say anything to you."

She nodded. "Yes. That happens to me, too."

"I'll just stop talking. That fixes that."

"Or you could switch sides," she suggested. "Then you could talk to me all you like."

"Is that all it would take?"

"No," Ginny replied with a grin. "But it would certainly make it easier."

He smiled lazily and leaned against the wall of a building. "Easy isn't always better, Ginny. Sometimes it's just easy."

"Would you prefer difficult then?" she countered, tipping her face up to his.

"Honestly?"

"Preferably."

"I'd prefer whichever gets me you." He leaned down and gazed at her intently, his face just centimetres away from his, and brought his hand up to touch the soft skin of her cheek. His fingertips tangled in her hair as he closed the space between them, his lips fixed a gentle pressure on hers, teasing and brushing until she took hold of the collar of his robes and pulled him down and claimed his mouth, taking his bottom lip, sucking and biting it lightly, swirling her tongue with his in a dizzying dance of pleasure.

She pulled back and smiled at the slightly dazed look on his face. "Difficult enough for you?"

Draco nodded, pulling her back to finish what she'd started.

From an alleyway adjacent to where the couple were standing, a man stood and watched, displeased. Very, very displeased. He bared his teeth, ran a hand through his hair, and Disapparated.

**************************************


CHAPTER ONE

Ginny crouched low behind the fountain at the end of High Street that commemorated the death of Voldemort, her breath coming in shortened gasps. The starry night sky lit up Hogsmeade; the beams of light from the random curses cast ethereal red and green glows over the deserted streets and abandoned shops. Just because the leader was dead didn't mean that his followers were going to follow meekly. Ginny flinched as a jet of red light narrowly missed her, and she ducked down just a bit more. Turning, she fired a Blasting Curse at her attacker, and heard a yelp for her trouble as the spell clipped his shoulder.

Take that you bastard, she thought, her face set in a grim expression.

When the members of the Order of the Phoenix Apparated into the fray, they had been met with an already bloody battle. The shopkeepers and townspeople obviously weren’t going to concede to the Death Eaters without a fight. Madame Puddifoot was battling well; Dolohov looked to have a face full of boils and was on the ground writhing in pain. Mr. Scrivenshaft flung curse after curse from the doorway of his shop, his small gnarled form hunched and ducking return curses like a man half his age. Good for you, Ginny thought. Give them hell.

She cast two more gouging charms in quick succession and before she could roll out of the way, a masked Death Eater backed her into the fountain; freezing water soaked the back of her robes and the stone bit into her back painfully. The man squeezed her wand arm so tightly that she was sure that there would be a mark. He beat her wrist against the lip of the fountain, and her stomach dropped as she heard the clatter of her wand hitting the pavement below her feet. She could see Harry out of the corner of her eye and Neville next to him, both engaged with targets of their own. No one was coming to save her this time.

The attacker leaned into Ginny, breathing heavily and pressing her further against the stone slab housing the pool of water. He shoved his knee between her legs and she could smell the foul breath coming from behind the man’s Death Eater mask.

“Ain't you a pretty ickle fing, then?” he rasped into her ear. “Might ‘ave to ‘ave a bit o’ fun wiv you ‘afore ay kill ya, pigeon. ‘Ow's that sound, eh?” he asked huskily, nuzzling her neck with his mask askew, the days worth of growth rubbing against her face uncomfortably.

Ginny opened her mouth to scream, and the man in front of her mirrored her expression, mocking me, she thought idly, and raised her eyebrows in surprise, momentarily frozen, as she watched the man fall over, his stiff and Petrified eyes staring straight ahead, features still arranged in a lecherous leer.

Ginny quickly picked up her wand and crouched low again; she looked in the direction that she thought her attacker's curse had come from and saw nothing. She turned slightly and caught the edge of a black cloak disappearing down the alleyway between Zonko's and Gladrags.

Running stealthily, she followed the figure, arriving at the mouth of the alley just as she heard the soft pop of Apparition.

“Thank you,” she said to the empty spot where the person had been, and then turned quickly, running to re-join the fight.

************************************************


The members of the Order of the Phoenix were a ragtag group as they staggered back to Grimmauld Place, some cut and bloody, some inured more seriously, all tired beyond belief.

Ginny sustained only bruises and scrapes, so she helped get the more seriously injured witches and wizards to the makeshift infirmary, where the healer on duty was busy mending broken bones and weaving lacerations back together, but he was never too busy for a quick exchange with his favorite redhead.

“Hello, lass,” said Cormac McLaggen, his handsome features arranged in an enigmatic smile, winking at her as he pulled bandages from the pocket of his green healer’s robes and flicked them around Neville’s injured wrist. Cormac flashed her a row of even, white teeth and asked, “When will you let me take you away from all this, mmm?” He sidled up to her as he finished watching the bandages bind the wound, and put his arm around her, leaning her into a dramatic dip, his nose mere inches from hers, blue eyes crinkling at the corners.

She smiled at him and shook her head. “Cormac. You never give up, do you?”

“Yeah, McLaggen,” came Neville’s voice from the exam table. “If Gin were going to date someone, it’d be me. And I’m right here.

Cormac didn’t so much as spare a glance for Neville. “You don’t stand a chance, Longbottom.”

Neville huffed. “I stand as much of a chance as you do, you ponce,” he muttered under his breath. “Oi, McLaggen! Are you going to finish this or what?” he asked angrily, waving his injured wrist in the air.

Cormac ignored Neville and brushed his nose with Ginny’s, leaning her down a fraction of an inch further. “Really, love,” he asked Ginny with a smirk. “Longbottom? You won’t let me show you what a healer’s hands are really capable of?”

Ginny giggled. “Not right this minute, no. Sorry, Cormac.”

Cormac sighed dramatically and swept her back up, spinning her around once. “Very well, lass,” he said in his soft brogue. “I’m hurt, though.”

His mock pout made Ginny smile. “You’ll be the first to know if I change my mind,” she said, putting an arm around Neville and helping him off the exam table.

“Oi,” Neville ground out in exasperation. “What about me? I’d be a much better boyfriend than that berk.”

“Sure you would, Nev, old boy,” Cormac assured him. Winking at Ginny again, he whispered, "No contest."

Neville scowled as he put his good arm around Ginny. “Yeah. Too right there wouldn’t be.”

Ginny grinned at Neville and glanced at Cormac, who’d already turned to attend another patient, as they exited the infirmary. She leaned up to peck Neville’s cheek. “You two are so funny. You ought to take your show on the road, you know.”

“Poncy bastard,” Neville muttered, scowling.

Ginny sighed and walked with him down the corridor to the kitchen, where the Order held their post battle debriefing.

Entering the kitchen, they were hit with a wave of sounds and smells; people talking over each other, the hum a whispered conversations, chairs scraping against the scrubbed wooden floors, the thunk of glasses hitting the table, the tink of cutlery against crockery, and the air was filled with the aroma of what smelled like Molly Weasley's beef stew cooking on the stove top for supper.

Harry looked downtrodden and frustrated, as usual, and Ginny gave his shoulder a squeeze as she walked by. Miles Bletchley looked up from his conversation with Seamus Finnegan and piped up, saying, "Oi! I'd like a little love tap too, eh, Gin?"

Ginny gave a halfhearted laugh, otherwise ignoring Miles and sat down next to Neville, gazing at the other man with a bored expression. The double agent for the Order, Miles had been vouched for by several different sources and had worked for them for almost a year, but she didn't like him. She couldn't put her finger on quite why. Other than he's a smarmy git, she thought.

Miles had repeatedly and persistently asked Ginny to go out with him, and after what seemed like months of politely telling him 'no,' Ginny had started ignoring him completely. It seemed to be working, for the most part. Ginny rolled her eyes as he got up from his seat, obviously coming to sit in the unoccupied chair to her left.

Cormac entered the kitchen just in time and dropped into the chair seconds before Miles got there. "Did I miss anything, love?" he asked, draping his arm on the back of Ginny's chair.

Ginny grinned. "No. No one's started."

"Good," he said, exhaling heavily. "I do so hate to miss the show."

Giving Cormac a look, Miles moved back to his chair and tapped his water glass with a fork. Harry rolled his eyes and Ron sneered behind Miles' back, while George hit him in the back of his jumper with a spitball.

"I have exciting news," Miles said, wincing and running a hand over the back of his neck. "I might've found a way to get you to Parkinson Manor. It'll take some planning, but it'll definitely better for our headquarters than this place," he said looking distastefully at his surroundings.

Harry looked offended, but Ron snorted. "Sure, Neville could disable the wards if we could get there. But it's the Death Eater headquarters, and it's Unplottable, mate. How the hell'd you do that, eh?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Did the secret keeper finally tell you where it is?"

"No," Miles replied sullenly. Parkinson, the bitch, doesn't like me."

Cormac coughed and leaned over to Ginny. "I think I may love her, then."

Ginny nodded. "She can't be all bad."

Miles gave them a disdainful look and said with an air of Father Christmas, "Also, every time I go to Parkinson Manor, which incidentally is where most of the Death Eaters and their associates congregate," he said with a nod of approval at Ron, "I have to be escorted there. The trained monkeys doing this job will be available for capture soon. They're beginning to trust me."

"Which is more than you'll ever be able to say for me," Cormac whispered to Ginny, who giggled behind her hand.

"Who are they?" George asked. "The monkeys in question, I mean."

"Malfoy and Zabini. I would've been able to hand over Parkinson too, she usually tags along with them, but she keeps mouthing off and Dolohov uses her for torture practice . We'll have to wait 'til we take the manor to get her." There was a murmur of approval from all sides, and Miles preened momentarily.

Ginny squirmed uncomfortably. "Malfoy's never killed anyone, you know."

It seemed as if the the noise in the room stopped and the attention of the entire room fell on Ginny at once.

Harry looked at her strangely. "Yeah? And how do you know that?"

"Um, I've watched him in battle. He never tortures either, and he doesn't use Unforgiveables."

Cormac studied Ginny for a moment. "Since when are you Draco Malfoy's cheering section?" he asked

"I'm not," she said quickly. "Really, I just- I dunno. I don't think he's much of a threat." Turning to Miles, she asked, "Can't you give us the bastard that had me backed up against that fountain today?"

"And which bastard, specifically, would that be?" Miles asked with a sneer.

"I don't know," Ginny spat. "He had a mask on, didn't he?"

"If he had a mask then it could have been Malfoy, couldn't it?"

"It wasn't him," Ginny said in frustration. The bloke's accent was different, and it wasn't his body type..." she trailed off, when the stares from Harry and Ron widened.

Neville jumped up and glared at Miles. "If you've got something to give us, give it. Otherwise back off of Ginny."

Miles raised an eyebrow and shrugged slightly. "Makes no difference to me. One or the other, they're all scum."

Harry nodded. "Agreed. Now tell us. What have you got, exactly? How will we get Malfoy and Zabini?"

Miles smiled and laid out some parchment on the table, placing a large pink stone beside it. "The Oath of Allegiance keeps me from telling you outright all that I know, obviously."

There was a collective eye roll from most of the table.

Cormac looked at Miles. "So you've said. Repeatedly. Every day, for the last year. We know, we've all taken the Oath, as well."

"I can't just tell you everything. You know the consequences for that."

Cormac leaned over an whispered, "Tell me how his death would be a bad thing."

Ginny swatted him playfully. "Yes, Miles. We're all aware of how the Oath of Allegiance works. Unless common knowledge, no one can divulge any information. If you do, it will inevitably lead to death. Blah, blah, blah." After Voldemort's death, it had become standard practice for the Oath of Allegiance to be sworn for both sides. Ginny didn't think that it was such a fantastic thing, it made her clandestine conversations with Draco stilted sometimes, as they had to dance around certain topics. "Moving on?" she continued. "Tell us about this great plan of yours, Miles. We're all waiting with bated breath."

Miles huffed. "Do you know what that is?" he asked, pointing a spindly finger at the smooth, opaque, rose-coloured stone sitting innocently on the table.

Hermione leaned forward. "Oooh. A Chimaera Stone," she whispered. "Where did you get that? They're illegal."

Ron frowned. "What the hell is a Chimaera stone?"

Miles looked smug. "Does it matter where I got it? You can't always win a war by legal means."

Ron looked at Harry. "Do you know what a Chimaera Stone is?"

Harry shrugged.

Hermione folded her arms across her chest and looked stonily at Miles. "They're really dangerous, as you don't know to where you're Apparating; you just know you're following the person who leaves it. Where. Did. You. Get it?" she asked in her most imperious tone.

Miles looked at her sourly. "I go to some rather dark places for my job," he said with an authoritative air. "Does that please her majesty?"

"Oi, you bastard," Ron shouted, glaring at Miles. "What the hell is a Chimaera Stone?"

Everyone looked expectantly at Hermione.

Blushing, she folded her hands in her lap. "The Chimaera Stone is ancient Druidic magic. "It tracks people. By Apparition trails. By the traces of magic left by Apparition. It's inescapable, if used properly."

Ron looked confused.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Person "A" Apparates, and then sends the Chimaera Stone back to the coordinates he Apparated from, thus enabling anyone else to follow him to his destination." She looked at Miles. "Aren't you going to tell us where you got it?"

Miles shrugged. "I run into some unsavory types in my travels about the country."

Cormac leaned over to Ginny. "He is an unsavory type," he whispered.

Ginny giggled half-heartedly and paled, sitting back as everyone else leaned forward, pouring over the schematics. How was she going to get past this? She had to tell Draco, but the Oath of Allegiance was very complex magic. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, thinking of the man that the Order was going to take by force, which would, quite probably end in death. She got up and slipped out of the room. She had places to go and people to warn. Even if it hurt her.

Only one pair of eyes saw her go.

****************************



Later, in another part of the country, a young man walked tiredly back to his rooms; he hadn’t been in the mood for socializing after tonight’s fight. He was tired, sore, and in desperate need of a shower. Running a hand through his white blond hair, he sighed in disgust. Wouldn’t be so bad if I didn’t get so horribly dirty every time I went out, he thought, a scowl marring his face.

He silently opened the door to his room, and immediately felt the skin on the back of his neck prickle uncomfortably. Someone was there. In the room. He stood very still, narrowing his eyes, straining to see in the dark. After a moment when his eyes adjusted to the dark of the room, he saw the intruder.

She was asleep. Breathing evenly, her pale skin luminous in the light from the window.

He frowned and set his jaw, walking silently over to the bed, sat down and brushed the girl’s mane of red hair away from her face.

She stirred and opened her eyes sleepily. “’Lo, Draco. Come to bed.”

Draco quirked an eyebrow and sneered. “I don’t think I will, thanks.”

Ginny sat up, propping herself up on her elbows, smiling and rubbing her eyes. “Let me guess. You’re cross with me.”

“Never let it be said that you Gryffindors aren’t clever, as well,” Draco said petulantly, crossing to look out the window at the moonlight washed grounds of Parkinson Manor.

Ginny swung her legs over the side of the bed and moved to stand behind him. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his back, feeling the tension in the muscles underneath his robes. Her hands splayed against his chest and she murmured, “I can’t stay back. I have to go out with the others.”

Draco relaxed slightly at her touch and wondered not for the first time why this little slip of a girl had such a hold over him. He realized suddenly that she was actually soothing him, and he forced his face into a scowl.

“I’m not saying you shouldn’t go out, but you need to watch your back. I may not always be there, you know.”

She squeezed his middle slightly and nodded against his back, not releasing him from her embrace. “I know,” she said softly. “Thank you for that, by the way,” she said, thinking of the man that had attacked her earlier, and shuddered. “Do you know him?” she asked quietly, thinking of the man that he'd saved her from.

He turned in the circle of her arms and brushed her hair behind her shoulders. “We are acquainted,” he said snappishly, running his fingers through the tangles in her hair. “We are not mates. He’s filth. The ranks are getting very thin.”

“I suppose it would fall on deaf ears if I asked you to join us again?” she asked, wondering at the dichotomy between his harsh tone and the softness of his actions.

“You know I can’t. I can’t leave Blaise and Pansy. They need me. If I left…” he trailed off, frowning, not wanting to think of his friends’ fate if he were to leave the ranks of the Death Eaters.

“I know,” she replied, winding her hands around his neck. "Draco?"

"Mmm?"

"Something's happening. Something you need to be aware of." She felt the charm of the Oath of Allegiance pull painfully at the center of her, and winced.

"Stop talking. Stop right now. Don't say another word."

Ginny sighed brokenly. "You have to be careful, though. Of everyone." The charm was causing intense pain, now.

"Quiet," Draco commanded. "Not another word. "

Ginny nodded. “Alright," she said, eyeing him with a pointed look as the pain abated. "You’ve had long enough to sulk. Now come to bed.”

His expression softened as he watched her turn away from him and walk back across the room, her nightgown swinging against the back of her thighs.

“Have I?” he asked, his lips quirking into a small smile.

“Yes,” she said imperiously, smoothing the blankets over her legs as she sat up in the bed. “Besides, I have to be up in a few hours to Floo home.

A shadow passed over Draco’s face and he nodded. “Right,” he answered. “Shower first, then bed.”

Ginny sighed. There would be no changing the man, she thought as she watched him undress and walk into the loo. No changing him at all.

On the heathered moor on the edges of Parkinson Manor, a man watched the flickering candlelight through one of the mullioned windows of the large house, and seethed. He would have her. Nothing would stop him. Ginny Weasley would be his.

CHAPTER TWO

"Where did you get off to last night, darling?” Pansy asked, moving to Draco as he came into the room and giving his cheek a cursory kiss. Fiddling with a bandage on her hand, she said, “We missed you.”

Draco sighed, his eyes moving to her injury. “You’re hurt.” He led Pansy over to sit on the sofa in the corner of the room. “Why did you let that happen, eh?”

Pansy looked at him, and shrugged. “Don’t fuss, Draco. Besides, you know I enjoy a nice stinging hex on a Thursday afternoon. It breaks up the monotony. Spices things up a bit,” she said, wincing as he inspected the injury.

“Is she whining again?” Blaise Zabini strode into the room and flopped onto the other end of the couch. “Been pouting all morning that you disappeared last night after the skirmish in Hogsmeade and then weren’t about downstairs after everyone got back.”

“Shut it, Blaise.” Pansy said in a bored tone, studying her manicure.

Blaise leaned over and brushed Pansy’s hair behind her ear. “Still hurt then?” he asked softly.

“Yeah. A bit.”

Blaise scowled. “Nearly every pureblood worth having, and not a decent healer in the lot.”

Pansy shrugged. “We could always change sides.”

She and Blaise laughed uncomfortably, looking at Draco, who joined them.

“Yeah,” Draco said, scoffing. “I’m sure if we just yell 'ollie ollie oxen free' or 'do-over' and go on over there, that Potter and all his friends would welcome us with open arms."

“Don’t tease Pans, Draco” Blaise chided. “You know she has a thing for Potter.”

“I do not," she said indignantly.” She took a pause. “Maybe the whole ‘good’ thing is intriguing,” she continued under her breath.

“Find good somewhere else, eh, Pans?” Draco asked, kissing the top of her head. “He’s a berk.”

Pansy smiled and nodded, one eyebrow raised. “I shall try.”

**********

Later that morning the Death Eater camp found themselves sitting around the formal dining table at Parkinson Manor, most uninterested in the goings on and the morning report. There was dissension and worse, disinterest in the goings on since Voldemort had died, and as Draco had mentioned, their ranks were indeed getting thin. When they went on raids, inevitably two or three didn't show back up either due to capture, death, or desertion. It was only when Miles Bletchley walked in and sprawled at the end of the table that their attention was captured at all.

Miles ran a hand through his hair and with a smug expression on his face. “Well, all, meet the man with the master plan,” he said with an expansive gesture.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Could you not talk in clichés, Bletchley?"

"Could he just not talk?" Pansy asked under her breath, sitting next to Draco. "What are you on about, Miles?”

Miles smirked at Draco. “I’ve only done something you’ve dreamt about, Malfoy. I can give us the the Weasleys. A few of them, anyway. I only wish the Dark Lord was here to see it.”

"Well he's not, you prat. He's a sort of smudge on the great lawn at Hogwarts," Blaise said, rolling his eyes.

Draco’s heart dropped into his stomach, but his face remained placid. “The Weasleys? Really? And what, pray tell, do we want with a bunch of filthy blood traitors that collude with the scum of the Wizarding World?"

Miles looked at Draco with an amused expression, "Why, I'd think it would be obvious. If you take out the Weasleys, that's the backbone of the Order of the Phoenix. Without them, the organization will crumble, and this whole bloody mess will be over. We can begin to place our people in positions of power, and blood purity will count for something again."

Blaise looked at him with a displeased expression. "You do realize that there are only roughly two dozen of us here full time, fighting for this 'cause' or whatever we're calling it now?"

Antonin Dolohov, his boils still looking painful, pointed his wand at Blaise. "You can get going then, son, if you don't like the way things are being run."

Blaise moved the man's wand away from him with a finger. "Go play big bad Death Eater with someone that it actually scares."

Pansy burrowed more deeply in her chair. "Does it actually scare anyone anymore?"

Draco crossed his arms sullenly over his chest. "No. I don't think so."

Dolohov dragged Pansy up out of her chair roughly and shoved the point of his wand in her neck. "Listen. I think you've forgotten how this works. You do what's expected of you. All of you," he said, eyeing Draco, Blaise, and Miles, "and you do it without a fuss. We're all going to listen to what Bletchley's got to say, and then we're going to make a plan to get the Weasleys. After that, we're going to string 'em up by their red hair and kill them. Maybe torture them a bit beforehand. Just like old times, he said, whispering in Pansy's ear and shoving her back down in her chair. Leaning in to her he asked, "Was that scary enough for you, love?"

Pansy shuddered as if to get rid of the feeling of the man's touch. "You couldn't scare a child, you bastard," she said poisonously, and spat in his face.

"Crucio," Dolohov whispered, eyes blazing, and Pansy convulsed and cried out in agony. Blaise and Draco went rigid, Blaise holding a hand up to Draco, nodding his head to indicate the other wands trained on them. Dolohov laughed. Letting his wand up, he said, "and I think I'm keeping Miss Smart Arse here with me again to make sure the rest of you behave yourselves out there, eh? Yes, I think that'll be a splendid idea."

There was a general grumbling from the other side of the table, and Miles shot them all an irritated look. "Do you want to hear how to take them down, or not?"

Dolohov lifted his wand that had been trained on Pansy and inclined his head. "By all means, boy. By all means."

Miles smile was simpering. "In the upcoming week at least two of the Weasleys will be with me at our escort point; Harry Potter may even be there for the taking," he said, holding up his hands in deference to the shouts of pleasure coming from around the table. "I'm sure the girl Weasley will be there, and at least one of her brothers, as they hardly ever let her go anywhere without them."

"Excellent," Dolohov replied.

Miles leaned forward to share his plan with the other Death Eaters. Inwardly, Draco was panic stricken. They were going to take Ginny. Ginny. And he knew what would happen to her if they brought her here. It would make what had just happened to Pansy look like a walk in the garden.

Draco listened carefully. He had to know exactly what would happen so he'd know exactly what he could and could not tell Ginny. Damned Oath, he thought for the millionth time.

********************************


Later that evening, he lay on his bed awake, with his hands behind his head. I have to do something, he thought. Not knowing exactly what that something might be made him a little restless.

When Ginny flooed in from the fireplace in his room, he leapt off the bed and wrapped her in an embrace as soon as she stepped out of the grate.

Smiling, Ginny wound her arms around his middle, pressing her cheek against his chest. "What a welcome. Is everything alright?"

Shaking his head, he replied, "No, it's not. There are things you need to know. They're going to be--" He broke off as the pain from the Oath grew to be too much. He gasped, clutching at his stomach, and sat down abruptly on the bed.

Ginny shreiked, "No! Stop it! You wouldn't let me do it, I'm not going to let you. Whatever it is, whatever you need to tell me, just know that I'll be very careful, alright?" She moved over to him and placed her hands on either side of his face. "Please don't do this. I need you alive, yeah?"

Draco nodded. "Yeah. Same goes for me, though. I don't want anything to happen to you, either."

She threaded her fingers through the back of his hair and brought his lips to hers, kissing him fiercely, with bruising, biting kisses that possessed them both. She pushed him back against the bed and he held her about the waist, pulling back and looking into her eyes. "When this is over, I'm never going to let you go."

****************************************

CHAPTER THREE

Miles waited impatiently at the appointed Apparition coordinates where he was always met his escort to Parkinson Manor. He looked pointedly at the hedgerow that he knew the members of The Order of the Phoenix to be hiding behind. Miles knew for a fact that Ginny was there. Potter hadn't come, but Longbottom was definitely there, and one of her red-haired brothers. From this distance, he couldn't tell which one. For his part, Miles hoped it was Ron. The Death Eaters were hot headed enough to kill him, just for sport. Miles would watch them kill Ron, then let the rest of them kill each other, step in and save Ginny, and then she'd see that he was the one for her. It might take time, but Miles was nothing if not patient. She would see who he really was, much better than that putrid Death Eater scum or that poncy healer she was always whispering to. She was his. His Ginny. And he would not be put off any longer.

Finally, just about the time Miles had decided to have a fit, Draco and Blaise appeared before him; Blaise looked bored, Draco, annoyed.

"What took you so bloody long?" Miles huffed. "Where's Parkinson?" he asked, though he knew exactly where she was. Getting exactly what she deserves, the bitch.

"Shut up, Bletchley," Blaise drawled.

"Dolohov has her," Draco said through gritted teeth.

"She shouldn't let her smart mouth overload what her poor wandwork can compensate for," Miles said peevishly.

Draco stepped forward quickly and shoved his wand underneath the other man's chin. "Keep talking, you arse, and I'll make sure you end up nothing more than a pile of dust near the ruins of Bath."

Blaise looked at his fingernails absently. "Don't push him, Bletchley. He's been a bit tetchy lately."

Miles' laughter rang out, echoing off the surrounding trees in the secluded glen. "From what I hear, Malfoy, you couldn't hit the ground if you fell off your broom. Also, you'd get in trouble. I'm the first double agent to actually accomplish anything, they don't want me harmed."

Draco lowered his wand and glowered at Miles. "Yeah, that may be," he said, chuckling blithely, "but Zabini here's got no compunction about killing you, no matter what the consequences."

Blaise smiled lazily and gave a little wave, pointed his wand at Miles, and then stared icily.

From their vantage point behind the hedgerow, Ron began to move, but Ginny held him back. "Wait, Ron. Remember the plan. Stick to the plan."

"But they're going to kill him!" Ron all but shouted.

"No, they're not. They're Slytherins. It's just how they talk to one another."

"Keep quiet, you two," Neville whispered. "Don't give away our position. We have to wait for the Chimaera Stone."

While the members of the Order of the Phoenix were arguing; Draco, Blaise and Miles Apparated away. The others sprinted over to the spot that Miles' party had left, and waited.

Exactly one minute later, the Chimaera Stone appeared at Ginny's feet. She picked it up, linked arms with Ron and Neville, and pointed her wand at the stone, murmuring the incantation.

Seconds later, they stood at the front entrance of a large, rather imposing, and Gothic manor.

"Homey," Ron said sarcastically. "No wonder Parkinson was a cold-hearted bitch in school if this is where she spent her childhood," Ron mused.

"Focus, please," Neville muttered. He waved his wand at the wards and expertly disarmed them.

They opened the door and crept stealthily into the dark entryway, the shadows from the statuary casting ominous shadows on the cold marble floor.

Ron looked around. "Cheerier on the inside, though. Looks like a nice place to raise a family."

Neville shot a quelling look at Ron. "Could you quiet down, please? Before you get us caught?"

They heard a loud commotion coming from the direction of the end of the corridor and took off at a sprint, bursting into the room from which the noise had come. When the shouting stopped and the smoke cleared, there were wands pointed everywhere.

Ginny stood in the entrance of the room, wand trained on Blaise. She was flanked by Neville and Ron, their wands pointed at Pansy, who seemed to be incapacitated on the sofa, and Draco, respectively.

Ron spoke first. "Put down your wand, Malfoy. We'll not kill you if we don't have to."

"Why not?" Miles asked, smirking while leaning against the fireplace.

Draco turned slightly and glanced at Miles. "Whose side are you on?"

"The winning side, hopefully," replied.

Draco kept his wand on Neville while looking at Ron. "I can't do that, Weasley. Surely you can appreciate my position?"

Ginny spoke up. "Zabini, who is that on the floor?"

Blaise, who had his wand pointed lazily at a crumpled mess of robes next to the sofa, replied. "Antonin Dolohov. He was going to kill her," he said, indicating Pansy's prone form of the sofa.

Neville peeked around Draco. "Is he dead?"

Blaise turned and looked at Neville, not moving his wand arm. "If he's not, at the very least he's most unhappy," he said, giving Dolohov a little distasteful nudge with his toe.

Neville inclined his head at Pansy. "Is she dead?"

Blaise shot him a look. "I don't rightly know, Longbottom. Are you going to curse me if I go to check?"

Ron glared at Miles. "Floo Cormac. Tell him there are casualties, and that he should be on his guard." At the dirty look he received from Blaise, he said, "I'm just flooing a healer. Is that-" he looked more closely at the brunette crumpled on the couch. "Is that Parkinson?"

"Yes, it's Pansy," Draco answered, watching closely as Blaise took Pansy's pulse, heaving a sigh of relief when his friend nodded. He looked at the floor for a moment and then glanced up at Ginny. "Is this what you wanted to tell me?"

Ginny nodded.

Ron frowned. "What the hell's going on, Gin?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "I wonder if it would be alright if we discussed this later? We have rather a situation here, and I'm sure that there are other people in this house who would love to see us dead. I feel a sense of urgency, yeah?"

Miles laughed. "Oh, I'll tell your brother, Ginny dear." He smiled mirthlessly at Ron. "Your sister has been leaving Grimmauld Place nightly, spending almost every night in the camp of the enemy, with- wait for it - Malfoy, here."

Ron's eyes bugged open and both Draco and Ginny turned to Miles and stared, open-mouthed.

Ron started forward towards the blond man. "I'm going to kill him."

Blaise moved his wand to aim at Ron's head. "No, I don't think you will. Try again."

"No one is going to kill anyone," Ginny said, sheathing her wand. She took a step towards Draco, and Blaise heaved a sigh of relief when she took her aim off of him.

"Thank Merlin,” Blaise said. “I thought I was going to have those unattractive bat things coming out of my nose."

Miles waved his hand at the couple in the middle of the room. "She's consorting with the enemy! What are you going to do about it?"

Ron glared at Miles. "I think I'll listen to what she has to say, first, if that's alright with you."

Draco sheathed his wand as well. Looking at Ginny, he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and put a finger under her chin. "What are we going to do?" he asked softly.

Ginny gazed at him and whispered, "Let me help you."

Draco gave an imperceptible nod and Blaise took his aim from Ron.

Ginny stood in front of Draco and crossed her arms over her chest, giving her brother a hard look. "They want to change sides, Ron."

"We do?" Blaise asked.

Draco shot him a look.

"Oh, right," Blaise replied. "Yes, we do."

Miles scoffed. "They're Death Eater scum! Him!" he said, pointing at Draco. He's sleeping with your sister!"

Ron swallowed visibly and glared at Miles. "Would you please shut the hell up? I don' ever want to know about that. Ever."

Ginny continued, ignoring Miles' outburst. "The only reason Draco hasn't already is because of his friends," she said, indicating Blaise and the unconscious Pansy. "He was afraid what would happen to them if he wasn't here."

"Stupid berk," Blaise muttered.

Miles' face grew red and he stomped his foot. "I brought you here to kill him, you insufferable idiot!" he shouted at Ron. "Could you do your bloody job?"

Neville muttered, "Good grief, man. You're flippin' mad. And you're embarrassing yourself."

Blaise looked at Draco. "I guess we know what side he's on, now."

With a swiftness that no one in the room foresaw, Miles grabbed Ginny and dragged her to stand with him beside the fireplace, shoving his wand into her back. "A year. For twelve months I've been patient. I've been waiting. I'm not waiting anymore. I planned and plotted and generally kissed asses at the Order of the Phoenix; and this lot," he said gesturing around him, "you," he continued, pointing at Ron, "were supposed to kill the bad guys like you've been trained to do. And you," he said jerking his chin at Blaise and Draco, "were supposed to die." He leaned his head forward and brushed his lips on the shell of Ginny's ear. "I wanted this place for our headquarters. For you," he said tenderly, "So that maybe you'd like it. And then like me. I've waited for you, Ginny. Wanted you. And now it looks like I'm going to have you, or kill you. It's up to you, my dear. At this point it doesn't matter much to me."

"Get your hands off her," Ron and Draco said in unison.

Miles laughed. "I don't think I will. And after I kill her, I'm going to take care of all of you. Can't have everyone knowing about this little incident, can we? You'll want to lower your wands," he said, backing toward the door. "Or before I kill her, I'll show her what a real man can do for her."

Draco clenched his teeth and lowered his wand, nodding at Ron, Blaise and Neville to do the same.

"You won't know where I am, or where I'll pop up. Say goodbye to your little girlfriend, Draco, and your sister, Ron. She's going to be much, much happier with me."

There was silence in the room for a split second before he was hit in the head with a jet of red light and fell backwards, crumpling to the ground.

The entire group in the room turned to look behind them.

"Someone had to shut the bastard up," Pansy said from her recumbent position on the sofa. "He was giving me a bloody headache."

A voice spoke up from the fireplace. "My god, I do love her," Cormac McLaggen murmured, smiling at Miles' prone form, having stepped from the Floo moments before. "What do we have here, then?"

"Get in here," Neville growled.

Ron and Draco crossed to Ginny. "Are you alright?" Draco asked, enfolding her into his arms.

"Yes," she nodded gratefully, her attention on the brunette on the sofa. "Cormac? It appears that Miss Parkinson is hurt."

Cormac walked purposefully over to the sofa, giving a cursory glance to the man on the floor. "Hello, love," he said, waving his wand over Pansy in diagnosis. "Feeling alright?"

"I've actually been better," she replied weakly. "But even at my worst, I'm better than most. And things are starting to look up," she replied, appraising him.

"I thought you were brilliant," he said, winking at her and taking her hand, pointing his wand at her wrist. "Now, tell me. What happened?"

"Dolohov was using me to perfect his curses." Pansy sighed. "Blaise stopped him," she said, looking gratefully at her friend that stood behind the sofa.

Blaise sniffed. "Yes, well, he had it coming."

Neville walked over to the group surrounding the sofa and Draco led Ginny to an armchair. "Are you alright? Really?"

"Yes." She pressed her palm to his face lightly.

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. "I hate to break up the party, but Gin? Neville? We seem to have some extra Death Eaters lying about. What do you think we should do with them?"

"Actually," Pansy said, sitting up with Cormac's help, "The others should be back soon. You need to go."

Cormac toed the man on the floor. "I don't suppose there'll be any use in helping him." He looked at Ron. "She needs medical attention," he said, jerking his head toward Pansy, "or she'll have permanent spell damage."

Draco turned to Ginny. "We don't have any decent healers left."

Ginny looked pleadingly at Ron. "I can vouch for them," she assured him.

Ron frowned. "It sounds like you can vouch for him," he said, nodding his head at Draco. "What about the others, though?"

Neville sat on the arm of the sofa that Pansy was on, and watched Cormac bind her wounds and perform counter curses. "She doesn't look like she'll be much trouble."

"That's where you're wrong," Blaise said under his breath.

"Actually," Neville continued, "I think I'm on her side after that," he said, throwing a cushion from the sofa rather forcefully at Miles' head.

Pansy looked up at him. "Aren't you sweet?"

Cormac winked at her. "Forgotten me already, love?"

Pansy's lips curved into a smile and she looked at Blaise and then Draco in succession. "Can I keep them?" she asked sweetly. "Please?"

Ron cleared his throat. "I could use a little focus, please."

Neville exhaled heavily. "They'll still be prisoners of war 'til we get it all sorted out, but we can take them with us. We explain to the Order. They didn't kill us when they had the chance, so perhaps everything will be fine, in time. Zabini took out Dolohov, who has been a thorn in our side for years, Malfoy and Gin are," he swallowed visibly, "together, and Parkinson here has my vote."

"You can call me Pansy if you like," she said gazing at him through her lashes.

"What can I call you love?" Cormac asked, sitting next to her.

"Whatever you like, darling," she replied, smirking.

Ron shook his head. "Fine. You're explaining this to Harry, though, he said with a pointed look at Ginny. "I'm not sure that I understand it all, myself."

Ginny smiled up at Draco. "I finally get my way, then eh?" she asked cheekily.

Draco smirked, offering her a good natured roll of his eyes. "When do you not?"

*************************************



EPILOGUE

Banks of fragrantly scented flowers spilled from ancient stone urns in the gardens of the stately manor. Children dressed in white laughed and played, tossing rose petals along the curved earthen pathways. A strange assortment of witches and wizards sat on either side of a long aisle that ended with a strikingly beautiful young woman staring adoringly up at her soon to be husband.

At the back of the crowd, Draco leaned over to Ginny. "She looks happy, doesn't she?"

Ginny nodded. "And very beautiful. Who wouldv'e thought? Pansy Parkinson actually marrying a former Gryffindor?"

Draco shrugged and looked at her. "I don't think it's all that strange, actually." he passed her a small, grey, velvet box and looked at her expectantly, a smile hovering on the corner of his mouth. "I want one as well." Leaning over to her, his lips brushing the shell of her ear, he whispered, "I want to make you happy, Ginny."

Ginny turned to him and pressed her lips against his in a teasing kiss. "You already do."