ILL MET BY MOONLIGHT

Chapter Five- Chrysalis

Ronald Weasley was, to put it mildly, worried. The Quidditch season was starting in less than a week, and Gryffindor was ready to be slaughtered. From his completely undisturbed vantage point by the goal hoops, it was painfully obvious. Painfully, disgustingly obvious.

“THAT’S IT!” he shrieked, his always short temper pushed right past the breaking point as Denis fumbled with the Quaffle, lobbing it clumsily at Natalie, who dropped it. “TEAM! LAND! NOW!” One by one, they obeyed, each staring at the ground in varying states of shame as their enraged Captain glared at them like an angry bull. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING OUT THERE?” He pivoted on Natalie. “NOTHING! THAT’S WHAT YOU’RE DOING! ABSOLUTELY NOTHING!” She flushed and dropped her eyes. Next to her, Denis shook slightly. “YOU THREE HAVEN’T MANAGED TO COME WITHIN TEN FEET OF THE GOAL POSTS IN THE PAST HALF HOUR! YOU HAVEN’T MADE A SINGLE SUCCESSFUL PASS! YOU HAVEN’T EVEN LOOKED EACH OTHER IN THE EYE, FOR GOD’S SAKE!”

“Ron,” said Harry, trying to placate him. “Ron, just calm down for a....”

“Calm down?! CALM DOWN?!” Ron looked as though he was restraining himself from committing murder. The color of his face was downright alarming. “Do we have a match with Slytherin in three days or not? Do you six care about winning that goddamn match or NOT?!” Harry subsided, staring intently at the brown and dying grass of the pitch with all the rest of his teammates. All, that is, except for one.

Ron turned slowly around and regarded his sister with a death glare. She stared coolly back at him, one corner of her mouth twitching slightly.

“Ginny,” said Ron, with such iron control in his voice that Natalie and Denis were too frightened to even tremble. “Is this somehow funny to you? You, who weren’t even paying attention to what your teammates were doing? You, who didn’t notice when....”

“Yes.”

Ron became very still.

“What?” he asked, all his rage boiled down into that one quiet word.

“Yes,” she repeated. “I find it hilarious. You,” she said, mocking him with icy precision, “Who didn’t block a single pass for ten straight games last year. You, who wouldn’t know Quidditch strategy if it hit you in the face. You, who wouldn’t even be Captain if Harry hadn’t turned it down first. You’re lecturing us on how to practice?” At the look of shock on his face, she laughed, a cutting sound. It fell flat in the dead silence that surrounded them. “God, you’re so pathetic, it’s a wonder the rest of the team isn’t laughing with me.” She peered appraisingly at him again. “You look like a cow when you do that, Ron. Just so you know.” She spun sharply on her heel and walked away.

===============

The moment she was out of sight of the team, Ginny began to run, her feet pounding furiously on the cobblestones, her breath coming in sharp jerks as she dashed up towards the school.

He doesn’t understand, she thought wildly. God. No one understands any more. The stupid bastard.

Completely winded, Ginny leaned against a tree and slid slowly to the ground, staring out at the lake. Just look at me, she thought bitterly. Right back where I started. Pathetic. Even I think I’m pathetic. No wonder Draco.... But she stopped that line of thought firmly in its tracks.

She didn’t want to hurt her brother. Not really. But when he was so stupid, so clueless, he was just asking for it, really. He didn’t care about her anyway. Why should she care about him? He never noticed her until she did something wrong. He never bothered to notice when something was wrong. Ginny’s mask of ice and burning rage melted, and her face crumpled. Angry tears overflowed in her eyes, spilling on to her cheeks and scalding there like fire.

In the intervening days since Halloween, nothing had gotten any better. Despite the perfectly logical theory that her depression had been due merely to the four year anniversary, it hadn’t just melted away after the day was passed. On the contrary, it seemed to be getting worse. And as for the flashbacks... Ginny shuddered. Now she was barely getting through the hour without one, let alone the day. In fact, the only time she hadn’t had one in the past week was when she was with... Draco.

The memory filled her, mind and body, stilling her tears. The brush of his lips against hers, sending heat all through her, throbbing and desperate as she pressed herself into him and snaked her arms around his neck. Slut, whispered a quiet voice in her head. But she didn’t care. All that mattered was that they didn’t stop, they didn’t ever stop. His hands burned her even through her robes. But then he had.... No. Don’t think about it.

It didn’t make any sense, really. Being around Harry never felt like this, not even when she was crazy about him. It felt... safe, simple, even innocent. But there was something inherently wrong with touching Draco. It wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t the way things were supposed to be. It felt sick, and wrong, and guilty and that’s just what made it so sweet. Fire burns when you get too close, but what’s the real difference between pain and pleasure to begin with? There’s a knife edge and one side is agony, but the other is ecstasy. One side is hate and the other is love. One side is night and the other is day.

But now she was always in twilight.

Ginny buried her head in her arms and wanted to start crying again. But somehow, she couldn’t.

=================

He hadn’t meant to run away from her. In fact, if he’d had his way, they might have stayed out there all night. But then she pulled away, just slightly, just for a moment, and looked at him.

It was completely dark, except for the scant light of the moon, and her half-lidded eyes were dilated to an inky black that overwhelmed the normal warm brown. In that moment, under the suddenly icy regard of those eyes, Draco felt... disturbed. As a Death Eater’s son and someone who had seen more Dark spells worked than he could count, Draco had considered himself just about beyond disturbing.

The shadows he saw in Ginny Weasley’s eyes proved him very, very wrong.

He stifled the shiver that rose involuntarily within him and pulled slowly away from her. But it was gone without a trace, a cloud passing over the moon. Her eyes were filled only with hurt as he pushed her away.

“Why?” she whispered.

But he didn’t answer. Ignoring the ache that her presence always seemed to spark in him somehow, he backed up farther and farther, sliding away into the forest, his eyes locked on hers as the murky darkness swallowed him up.

“Goddamn you, Draco,” she hissed after him, though he didn’t know if she thought he was gone or not. “What are you trying to do to me?”

In his mind, he echoed the question back at her. But he didn’t say anything aloud, oh no. A good spy knows how to keep his mouth shut. A good Death Eater knows not to talk back.

A good Malfoy knows not to care.

================

Ginny took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and marched into the open portrait hole, only a few seconds behind the chattering crew of after-dinner Gryffindors. Rather, that was what she fully intended to do. In reality, she loitered uncertainly for a moment, staring uneasily over the heads of her housemates.

Lord, this is ridiculous! What am I scared of? They’re my family, for Pete’s sake! My friends! They’ll forgive me. There’s nothing to be scared of from them. If two weeks ago someone had told her that she would be afraid to face the Trio, but would be perfectly comfortable making out with Draco Malfoy on the edge of the Forbidden Forest... well, honestly, it was completely insane! Stop stalling, Ginevra Weasley. Get in there and beg for forgiveness!

She composed herself mentally, which had the unfortunate side effect of making her face look very cold. Slytherin cold.

The first person she met as she entered the common room was Harry and when she saw his face, she had an uneasy feeling that her fears might not be so baseless, after all.

“I see you’ve come back, ” he spat at her. “Feel the need to ruin someone else’s life, do you?” Ginny stared at him, frozen with shock.

“Ruined... ruined his... what are you......?”

“Oh sure, Ginny. Play innocent. You knew exactly what you were doing when you said those things to him. He is your brother, after all.” He threw the word like a dagger. “You knew exactly what would hurt him the worst, and you said it. You said it and you didn’t even care.” He was on the verge of shouting now. He took a deep breath in, restraining his rage with an iron self-control that was almost more frightening than the anger itself. “God, Ginny. We’ve tried to make allowances. We know you’ve suffered, but you’re not the only one who matters. You’ve gone too damn far this time,” he hissed.

Ginny felt all her guilt and repentance washing away, drowned by harsh realization. They didn’t care, after all. How could she have been so stupid as to think they ever had.

“You hypocrite!” she whispered, bitterly incredulous. “You bloody hypocrite! I’ve never thought it was all about me, oh so high and mighty Harry Potter! No, nothing is EVER about me. Ever. Even after the Chamber, after the hell I went through, did anyone care? NO! It was all about you, and your bloody heroics, and your bravery. You didn’t even do it for me! You did it for your own conceited EGO! And as for Ron,” she added bitingly, the pain in her heart making her lash out at him like wounded animal. “You’ve hurt him more than I ever could, more times than I can count.”

Harry glared coldly back at her, completely untouched by her rant.

“Not like this,” he told her, with that same frightening control. Then he turned and walked slowly up the stairs to the boys’ dormitory, not even looking back at her.

She was turning to storm back out of the common room when a soft voice behind her made her stop.

“Ginny.” Her heart rose for one infinitesimal second when she heard the older girl’s voice behind her. Surely, surely Hermione would understand, wouldn’t she? Ginny turned slowly and her heart sank again. Hermione’s eyes were red with sobbing, and tears were running down her face, but her voice was quite steady. “If he ever even looks at you again, it’s more than you deserve.”

Ginny ran from the room and slammed the door behind her.

=============

What have I done? she thought wildly as she ran. What the hell have I done now? She didn’t know where she was going. The corridors were all blurred together in her mind. When she came to another corridor, she picked one way blindly and dashed on, the thoughts in her head racing as franticly as her breath.

The worst part was, she knew she was right. As cruel, as heartless, as savage as the things she had said to her brother were, she hadn’t lied. Not once. All she’d done was tell the truth, and they hated her for it. What kind of friendship is that, anyway? You don’t mention what hurts? Ron thought the same things about himself, but he never told Harry, never told anyone. Just let it fester and writhe and spread, till one day, there’d be nothing in his mind but that, tormenting him.

And suddenly, it was clear. They keep it quiet, they never talk about it, too scared it’ll hurt and, instead of going away, it grows. You know it’s there, and so do they, but they think if they just ignore the darkness, and do nothing about it, it’s like it never happened.

She thought back over the years she’d spent at Hogwarts. Whenever had they mentioned it? Whenever had they asked what it had done to her? Never. Not once. Last year, in a fit of anger at Harry’s self-absorbed sulking, Ginny had reminded him that she was the only one of them who knew what it was like to be possessed by You-Know-Who. He told her he’d forgotten. Forgotten. For them it was nothing, an old adventure, a neglected memory. For her, it was an everlasting nightmare.

Then she felt it. The dizzy spiral into the shadows, the unending blind fall, triggered by her anger and pain. Tom’s voice speaking, caressing her, warming her like a fire. A fire that melts and scorches and molds.....

You’re blacking out, she told herself with deceptive calmness. You’re going to hit your head on the stones and no one’s going to find you for hours. You’re going to die here. She saw herself, like she was floating outside of her own body, saw a pale ghost of a girl, staggering, her eyes closed. She almost fell as she leaned against a tapestry and stumbled... into an abandoned classroom. The world spun hard and she grasped desperately at a desk, clinging to it like a drowning man to driftwood.

“Now what have we here?” asked an amused voice above her. A voice that haunted her dreams almost as much as his. Ginny’s last conscious thought was that fainting in front of a murdering Death Eater was probably not her best course of action. But there was nothing she could do about it now. She was plunged headlong into the blackness where he was waiting for her, all ink and blood and tears and, in her mind, she sobbed as she fell.

=================

He hated Herbology. Downright despised it with a rage that he usually reserved for Potter, Mudbloods, and his father. It didn’t really have anything to do with magic. They never used their wands or uttered a single spell. They just potted and pruned and repotted. As long as you had a list of potion ingredients and a good apothecary, who needed to grub around in the dirt learning about bloody plants, anyway?

Draco glared down at the essay question he was supposed to be answering. It seemed extremely unfair that, despite everything going on in the real world, teachers still expected them to care about schoolwork. A grim smile crossed his face. At least academic success wasn’t a requirement for joining the Dark Lord. Merlin knew what Flint and Montague would have done, otherwise. He sighed and pushed his parchment away, tipping back the legs of his chair and leaning against the table, absently making sure that crazy vulture of a librarian wasn’t watching him.

He caught a glimpse of crimson as someone ran by the open library door. Weasley. His thoughts had been hovering around the redheaded girl all day. He’d been doubtful of her at first. It wouldn’t be the first time a goody-goody little Ravenclaw or Gryffindor had messed around with him, trying to rebel, then run off, frightened by what they’d gotten themselves into. A little revenge on her brother, a few days of freedom from her stifling morals, and she’d be scampering back to her little lionhearted friends, wouldn’t she?

But she hadn’t. Not yet, anyway. And the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was: this wasn’t just some fun little game on her part. The fierce look of joy on her face after their first encounter, so rudely interrupted by Finnigan. Her words after he kissed her: “If that’s evil....” Add to that her rather vicious outburst at her brother (news of which had spread from House to House like wildfire) and the strange, frightening look in her eyes that night in the forest, and you had a Weasley unlike any other. The only problem was, she couldn’t accept it. That was understandable, of course. How would he feel if he’d suddenly started acting like a Gryffindor? Draco shuddered a little at the mere thought. Still, her true tendencies were coming a little more into the light with each passing day. You could see it from her pale, tormented face, and from the looks her classmates gave her as they walked by. Stupid little buggers could feel something different about her, even as she tried to reject it. You can’t escape your own heart, no matter how hard you try not to see it.

The memory of his meeting with Bellatrix flooded into his mind. Make me proud. He lifted a hand to his cheek and ran his thumb along the thin cut, hardly healed in the intervening days.

He’d just have to convince her.

============

That’s odd, thought Ginny muzzily, staring at the dark stone walls that surrounded her. I always thought Heaven would look a bit more... heavenly. She thought again for a moment. Unless I’m in hell. The thought was so alarming that she sat up hastily. This proved to be a mistake, as she realized when she almost threw up. She lay back down again, trying to figure out what was going on. Blinking a little, Ginny slowly registered that she was in an abandoned classroom. Then, it all flooded back.

She glanced around wildly, expecting Bellatrix to leap out from a dark corner and attack her. But the classroom remained just as empty as before. The only sound to disturb the dust-laden air was her own harsh breathing. Ginny slumped back against the legs of the nearest desk, her heart pounding wildly with relief.

Why am I alive? she thought wonderingly. The fall to the stone floor, if nothing else, should have injured her badly. Yet here she was, practically unhurt. And once she’d blacked out, why hadn’t the Death Eater tried to kill her? Or at least waited until she woke up, so that she could cast a memory charm on her? Unless... Ginny froze with shock. Unless the woman had stopped her fall? Saved her life?

That didn’t make any sense at all. The Death Eater knew perfectly well who Ginny was; at the Department of Mysteries, Bellatrix had threatened to torture her to death if Harry didn’t give them the prophecy. But now... she’d spared her? She’d saved her? No. Impossible. But what other explanation was there? And what was the Death Eater doing in Hogwarts anyway? How had she managed to get in? Ginny’s head spun more than ever.

Still, she wasn’t getting anywhere by just sitting in this classroom. Stumbling to her feet, Ginny clutched at the desk again for support, then carefully drew out her wand. Threading her way unsteadily through the rows of desks, she finally reached the door and stuck her head cautiously out. An unfamiliar, empty corridor met her gaze. Easing the door shut behind her, Ginny set off down the hall, confused and lightheaded, yet oddly... exhilarated.

It took her nearly twenty minutes to find her way back to Gryffindor Tower, but she didn’t see a single person along the way. She wondered nervously if it was after curfew; the last thing she wanted today was to get a detention from Filch. When she finally reached the Fat Lady and gave the password (pretending not to notice the stern look of disapproval on the portrait’s face), the common room was all but deserted. She heaved a sigh of relief. They were all at dinner, then.

“Ginny?” She froze. Not all of them. Turning slowly toward the chairs in front of the crackling fire, she found herself face to face with her brother.

“I’m sorry.” She stared at him, shocked.

“What?”

“I’m... I’m sorry.” Ron took a deep breath. “I mean, I thought about it, and I reckon that you wouldn’t have said...” here his voice cracked slightly, “...wouldn’t have said all those things if I hadn’t done something that really, you know, pissed you off, and well, I guess....” He trailed off, staring very fixedly into the fire, pointedly not looking at her. “Because, you know, it’s always sort of been you and me. Fred and George, right, they always had each other, and Bill and Charlie, well, they were like best friends. Never really bothered with us younger ones. And Percy, ‘course, he was just on his own. And then it was you and me, sort of, you know, stuck at the bottom like, and....” Ginny could see him struggling for the words, fighting himself in a way she’d never seen before. She knelt next to his chair and slid an arm around his neck, resting her head on his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers, red hair mingling, indistinguishable in the dim firelight.

“You’re my brother,” she whispered. “I love you.” But he was wrong. It hadn’t been the two of them together, not for years. Not since he went to school and left her fighting tears of her own on Platform 9 3/4. Not since he’d met Harry and Hermione and become someone else entirely. Ever since that year, he’d gone places and done things she could never dream of. But now... now she was the one who had gone, gone somewhere where he could never follow, never dream of, never know.

He’s my brother, she repeated to herself. I love him. But I’m not going to apologize. Not for telling him the truth. Not for doing what’s right.

===============

Having finally finished his ridiculous Herbology essay, Draco went down to the Great Hall to see if there was any food left, or if Crabbe and Goyle had eaten it all. It had happened before. When he arrived at the Slytherin Table, it was almost empty except for a few scrawny first years and his dorm mate Blaise, who greeted him with a scowl.

“See if I get your mail for you next time, if you’re not going to bother to come and eat.” The slim, dark boy threw him a letter and swung himself up from the table. “Why’re you getting mail this late anyway?” He ignored him and Blaise left, but he threw a calculating over his shoulder at Draco as he went. Absorbed in reading his letter, Draco didn’t notice. In comparison to the first correspondence from his aunt, this one was downright verbose.

You’re ahead of schedule. Meet me again tonight. Bring your little girlfriend with you, she seems delightful.

Carefully hiding his surprise at Bellatrix’s unexpected knowledge, Draco glanced quickly over at the Gryffindor table. She wasn’t there. Neither was the Weasel. He sucked in his breath. Had he read her wrong? Was she running away after all? He tried to block the fear that she might cause him to fail his duty to the Death Eaters, because of her idiotic Gryffindor morals. The inexplicable anger he felt at the thought that she might leave him was harder to ignore.

===========

Safe in her hiding place, Bellatrix’s eyes snapped open.

“Well,” she whispered, her cold eyes dancing with wild mirth. “Isn’t that interesting?”

==========