The Empty Children

He was handsome. Not in the classic sense, shiny smiles and muscles, but handsome because he looked fragile, as if he had never really grown up. She had always found him handsome, but it had never really meant anything – it was like admiring a beautiful house or a classy dog. She never gave it much thought, it was just a fact of life: he was handsome, not in an obvious way, it didn’t make girls pursuit him or desire him above others – to most of them, he’d be just above average – but something inside Ginny thought that need for protection very attractive.

(Maybe that happened because she couldn’t handle boys that were too sure of themselves; they frightened her and made her remember things she’d rather forget.)

Harry had the same kind of charm, and that may be the reason she could find beauty in the details that repeated themselves in the Slytherin: the air of an overgrown boy with old eyes and an aura of loneliness. But never before had Draco Malfoy had those eyes and it caught her attention. There was something wrong in the way he looked around, like someone who wants to hide what they know, who doesn’t want to admit what happened, or what exactly he’s doing.

She knew that feeling way too well. She could feel her skin shivering just watching his sly glances, the way he tried to pretend that everything was still perfectly well. No one seemed to notice, but every word out of his mouth seemed forced and painful, a never-ending play that would never fool anyone – although it seemed to fool everyone.

He had a secret, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what it was. The details were irrelevant; their source was what made all the difference. Whatever impossible task it was, Ginny Weasley had no doubt about who had asked it of him. She had seen, for years, the same foolish and innocent admiration she had herself felt one day. The belief in something that could keep him safe, hold him in place. She knew that feeling way too well, and even if she didn’t like Malfoy at all, her heart sunk, empathizing with the inevitable disappointment that would come soon enough.

It wasn’t really surprising. After Lucius Malfoy was arrested, things would have become too complicated for them, easy targets for a man who wasn’t capable of understanding what family meant. She knew they had picked their side, but she was much more capable of understanding than most of her brothers. Before she considered their “wrong” choice, their prejudiced beliefs, she’d remember the ability to seduce that Tom Riddle had when he was only 16 – and she could only imagine how much more he’d have as an adult. She could remember how he was able to justify anything – from a smile to her own death – he knew exactly how to entangle, conquer and annihilate those around him.

Even if they had completely different beliefs, she could still pity him. She could anticipate the pain that would inevitably come, and watch it develop even if she didn’t know his purposes.

It didn’t matter. Any goal that Lord Voldemort might have could only be for worse. And Draco Malfoy’s fear and fascination might as well be the downfall of them all.

---

From the little she managed to overhear, Ginny gathered that Harry believed Malfoy was responsible for Katie’s accident. She could only, secretly, agree. Whatever was his goal (for Katie surely was just a mean to something else); it was undeniable that her destiny had been altered by Draco’s plans.

She wanted to stop him, but still, she could understand his reasons. Tom had known how to play with her worst fears, and made her attack her friends while toying with her insecurities, turning her against Penelope and Hermione, women who had been good to her, but were unwanted competition in a girl that craved for attention. She doubted he’d even be that kind to the boy. Nowadays, he could make direct threats, and the subtle manipulation wasn’t necessary. Being alive was a benefit Malfoy had received, and not for long.

Ginny worried, for she hated to see someone go through the same mental torture that she’d been through. But, there was no way for her to say anything. She could only wait until the right moment would present itself, and hope that nothing would go wrong until then.

Yet, she knew that when Tom Riddle was involved, hoping that something didn’t go terribly wrong was absolutely foolish.

---

Those ideas never left her head, although no one would ever imagine it had crossed her mind. She laughed, made jokes, teased people and, in general, seemed very happy. No one could even fanthom what was going through her head – she had learned to pretend all too well, years ago. She knew how to hide fear and act as if she was carefree. She knew how to hide where she was looking and control her gestures. Ginevra Weasley was a girl that one couldn’t possibly figure out.

It was during Ravenclaw versus Hufflepuff Quidditch match that she first managed to speak to the boy. Most of the castle was already out when she came back to the Gryffindor Tower to get her scarf and Draco Malfoy was alone, near the tapestry that hid the entrance to the room that they had used for DA’s practices. The pair of them stared at each other for a hostile second, without moving. Slowly, she walked towards him on her way to the stairs. He crossed his arms, scowling at her. A first year showed up and yelled when she saw her, what made him even angrier.

She didn’t say a word until she was very close to him. She just stopped dead, without looking at him.

“He will never stop until he kills you.”

Her voice was just above a whisper, but she knew he had listened. He didn’t look at her. It was as if one of them was wearing an invisibility cloak. They didn’t move, just breathed, their hearts racing.

“You think I don’t know that?”

His answer was both desperate and arrogant at once. The red haired girl shook her head before answering.

“Whatever it is he asked you to do; it won’t be the end of it. Even if you’re successful, he won’t stop threatening you.”

“You don’t know that.”

His voice was shaky. It was obvious he had thought about it, and didn’t like the prospect.

“I know that” she said, her voice low and calm, “for I know him very well.”

The blond boy finally looked at her, surprised beyond words.

“The enemies of the heir must be careful”, she said, softly, and then she kept on walking as if that conversation had never taken place. She could feel his gaze following her, and knew that he had understood what she meant perfectly well.

---

They didn’t talk again after that, but they’d cross gazes. He seemed to be begging silently, but if she made any gesture to acknowledge the moment, his eyes died immediately. Draco needed help, they both knew it, but he couldn’t really ask for it. He’d be in a terrible danger if anyone suspected she knew something about his doings.

November turned into December. The snow fell, as pale as his sick face. Ginny laughed and played around, but her heart hurt at every sight of his platinum hair. She had always been strict, she’d always judged everyone, but she knew his situation too well to react as usual. He’d set his jaw firmly, trying to look stronger, and they both knew he was doomed.

In those days, they were all doomed.

---

Coming home for Christmas cheered everyone up. People were happy to have someone to go back to, happy to still have their parents. Some weren’t that lucky, and came home for pain and loss. Dean was all tensed up, and she had no patience for him. Hermione was upset and would communicate through as few words as she could manage. Ginny knew her red hair reminded her of things she’d rather forget.

The following year didn’t improve things much – things got even darker, if that was possible. The whole world seemed to be wary and colorless as she walked around, and the winter’s cold spread through every bit of her body, taking hold of her.

She was walking, eager to find a place where she could just be, comfortably, without having to deal with people snogging, crying, or making foolish speculations that only served to spread panic. Someone took hold of her arm and pulled her into an empty room. She was only half surprised to see Draco Malfoy.

“I’m an idiot”, he announced, and she couldn’t help to smile.

“Hear, hear.”

“Why do you think I’m up to something?”

She frowned, answering without as much as a breath.

“I don’t think. I know.”

He looked away and they didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

“I didn’t say anything about it”, she said, after the silence had stretched for far too long.

“Why not?”

She shrugged, and both knew he had touched a sensitive spot. She was proud enough so she wouldn’t say that people wouldn’t listen to her or take her seriously. He was perceptive enough to know those things without her saying them.

“Thank you.”

She moved her head, uncompromising.

“But that doesn’t mean I don’t think you should ask for help.”

“Like you did?”, Draco asked, moving the conversation away from him.

“Wouldn’t it have been better if I had?”

“And would they have believed you?”

They stared at each other, not saying anything. They knew the answers too well. Alone in the dark, they had asked themselves the same questions again and again, without finding a way out. The darkness around him seemed to creep towards her slowly, making the clock tick backwards, until she was just a little girl again.

Ginny was scared. She felt all too strongly the pains she tried to forget, the guilt she tried to burry, the certainties she tried to ignore. Who was that boy, that could touch her so deeply that all her barriers fell, one by one, making her completely vulnerable? How could Draco Malfoy know so well what she had been through, and his despair reflect everything she had felt?

Of course, they were very alike in some aspects. She knew very well everything he was going through and, if she didn’t admit that it was indeed a difficult situation, it would mean she was too egoistical to understand that other people hurt too – the very thing she had called Harry on the year before. In a few moments, Ginny could fight against it, she managed to get rid of the diary, even if she later had decided to get it back (and she didn’t regret it either, she had good reasons to do it). But Draco, he never had the chance. He couldn’t get rid of Lord Voldemort as she had gotten rid of Tom, it wasn’t that simple. If she knew the man well – and, unfortunately, she believed she did – he’d have guaranteed that there was more than the boy’s life at stake.

The anguish of knowing that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that she could do to help him, or that he could do to help himself took over her. He was stuck in that situation, with no way out, and she knew how much that hurt, how much that bothered him, how it took hold of his life. Living too long around Fred and George had given her the certainty that anything was possible, if you had enough nerve. A year around Tom had shown that some things are beyond your control – they control you. Draco Malfoy was in such a position that he didn’t have any way to fight back. He had been beaten before it had even begun, and no one could have avoided it. There wouldn’t be any friendly gestures or comforting words that would change the rash reality.

She didn’t make a conscious move when she threw her arms around him, holding him close. She needed the safety, she needed warmth, but Draco was looking for the very same things, and couldn’t give that to her. His arms were too thin, and his breath was cold. In that moment, their bodies showed how close their souls were. It was just a hug, but it wrapped them both so deeply that they could have melted, two opposites turning into a single person, and they wouldn’t even notice.

Ginny felt his cold tears touching her neck, the same ones that burned as they trailed down her face. Using all of her determination, she bit her lower lip, took a step back, and said the only thing she could think of in that moment, her voice soft and caring.

“Stay away from me, Malfoy, for both our sakes.”

---

She felt guilty when she supported Harry’s attitude in cursing Malfoy, but she could see in his green eyes the same thing that hid in hers: that he’d rather help, or certainly didn’t expect it to go so far. A voice in her head kept nagging that it would have been much worse, had they seen him crying all over her instead of breaking dawn around Myrtle. Humorless laughs echoed through her mind as she pictured the kind of comments that this would have created, turning years of enmity between the two boys into a dispute about her love.

(She wouldn’t admit, not even to herself, how much she wished that this was the case. Life wasn’t that simple).

She knew that his path was one that couldn’t be changed, and that nothing that she did could save him. There wasn’t such a thing as salvation from the duties imposed by his Lord. Many would speak about a personal salvation, but the tears in his desperate eyes made it clear that he had, indeed, changed, even if his acts spoke against him. It was beyond his control, putting an end to it.

Ginny knew all that very well, but she tried to forget about it. She didn’t want to think or worry about his problems, problems that she had already overcome. It was with the steadiness that shaped her triumph against the past that she threw her arms around Harry and kissed him, leaving everything else aside.

Sunny afternoons spent by the lake worked like an Obliviate. Nothing else pestered her mind, and her efforts turned to helping Harry forget how different he was. The past was long gone, it was time to move on to the future, and paint with a colorful radiance that she, deep down, knew it wouldn’t have.

---

When a skeptic Hermione and a worried Ron told her that Harry was sure that Draco would do something that night, her heart froze. That was it. The moment. The Room of Requirement would be his Chamber of Secrets. She took a small sip of the potion that would bring her luck, but it didn’t make her feel euphoric as the others. She just wished, unhappily, that he had the same luck months before.

Which would be his duty? What was his plan? The questions that had wandered through her mind unanswered would soon be solved. At any second now, the world would change completely for Draco Malfoy. Would he find himself strong? Or would his cowardice hide something better? She held her wand firmly in place and refused to wonder about those things.

The darkness took the hall, and she recognized the product at once. Poor Fred and George! That wasn’t what they had pictured when they bought the Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. They heard steps, and they – whomever they were – were running somewhere inside the school. The members of the Order of the Phoenix yelled spells, the Death Eaters answered those, but Draco was nowhere to be seen. But, of course, he had some other agenda, not getting half a dozen Death Eaters inside Hogwarts. They were only a distraction, even if a deadly one.

The battle was like a firework show, screams, laughter, terror and lights. It was like dancing the tune of a funeral symphony, but death would miss her by inches every time. She didn’t think or hesitate for a single second until she saw Draco’s pale face show up, followed close by Snape’s as they came down the Astronomy Tower. Their eyes crossed for just a moment, full of fear, despair, and something else that, she knew, meant goodbye.

She wouldn’t have aimed at him even if she knew about Snape’s treason. It didn’t matter. His life was lost, and the wounds would run too deep, one way or another. She knew that, he knew that. And the blond hair disappeared in the end of the hallway, followed by a desperate and angry Harry.

Ginny Weasley stopped fighting. There was nothing that could be done.

---

“You need to come”. Ginny’s voice was sweet, but her mind was far away. The pain seemed to take over her, every inch of her being. The words came and went, without really meaning anything. Any comfort they might have offered was shattered by the cruel reality around them. Dumbledore was dead, and still, Draco Malfoy had failed. The Wizarding World was lost, and so was the boy. When everyone was already asleep or had already left, she was still awake, alone, looking through the window and wondering if, some day, she might have the future that she had dreamed to herself.

(On the other side of the country, a blond boy saw the sun come up, wondering if he’d ever again see those colors repeated in flaming hair locks.)