Chapter 17
Dane Harcourt cursed all Gryffindors and their innate – some could say paranoid – wariness of Slytherin plots. Weasley was on the verge of backing out - William’s death and the message it had hammered home had shaken him badly, had brought home the true height of the stakes and the reality of everything they were risking for Malfoy. He wanted out, and so now Dane had to convince him that it was worth his while to stay in. He had lured Weasley into this by appealing to the things that most Slytherins understood – his ambition, his desire to remake things according to his own desires – and now, it seemed that he would have to appeal now to the man’s Gryffindoric instincts.
Idealistic values, such as making the world a better place, rather than focusing on what he could get out of this particular situation. It was like viewing the world through a skewed lens, and he wasn’t quite comfortable with it. For the slightest moment, he wished that he had Lucius’ eloquence…
But look where that ready tongue and quicksilver mind had gotten him.
Even so, it had taken some very quick talking to get the man to come with him today. Weasley’s loyalty and concern for his family was admirable, but Dane had had to point out that he was already risking everything every time he took Potter into his own home, had become associated with an enemy – the enemy – of the Dark Lord when the Weasleys became identified as Potter’s surrogate family. Illogically, Arthur had said that that was an entirely different thing. Evidently it was acceptable, even admirable, to risk everything for Harry Potter, but not for Draco Malfoy. Dane very rarely indulged in Slytherin anti-Gryffindor sentiment anymore, but there were some times when it was unavoidable.
He didn’t have Snape’s almost certain faith in young Malfoy – so out of character in such a cool, analytical and scientific man as the Potions Master – but nor did he share most of the wizarding world’s just as irrational faith in Potter, either. He didn’t believe that a sixteen-year-old boy could single-handedly take the fractured, divided High Clan into a new golden era, or even hope to defeat the worst Dark Lord of the century. But he did believe that, given enough support, both things could be done – after a fashion, and at a terrible price.
Hence this small meeting, in his club – the exclusive gentleman’s club that guaranteed discretion in all things, and charged accordingly. They went up the steps leading up to the old establishment, and he remembered the first time he had come here, when his father had put him up for membership on his sixteenth birthday. He himself had taken William for his first time, because by then their father had been dead…
“Good morning, sir,” said the impassive footman, taking his cloak. “I’m sorry to hear about your brother.”
Dane stiffened; there had been far too many condolences these last few days, and not all of them sincere. But the footman was blameless, so he automatically murmured something appropriate in return, and then hesitated, turned back. “Oh, and Timms,” he said casually, staring into the footman’s eyes, “this gentleman is with me.”
The footman looked at Weasley dubiously, but was very well trained, and Harcourt was a very influential patron, and so he only said “very good sir.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Dane’s mouth, and he took Weasley’s cloak and held it out to the footman, transferring a few gold coins as well as the cloak into the other’s hand. “Good man,” he said softly, and went in.
**************************************
Harcourt was pulling out all the stops for this. Arthur had been in politics for a long time, he had been courted before and he knew all the signs – the attention, the flattery, the lunches in expensive restaurants – but this was the first time that a Slytherin High Clan Lord had focused his whole attention on him, and he had to admit that, had he been less experienced, less suspicious of Harcourt’s motives, he might have been tempted.
He had been tempted before, but that was when it had been an intellectual exercise, when he had not had to risk his family. Now it was all too real – but he was sure that Harcourt would not let him go just because he wanted out. And that was where it got complicated. This subtle campaign – lunch at White’s, that most exclusive High Clan club, the entrée into the most powerful circles of influence in wizarding Britain, the information and the inside gossip that he could not, as simple Mr. Weasley, have ever dreamed of hearing – could turn dangerous, the courtship could turn into a more sinister pursuit…
But Arthur was determined, refused to commit himself to something he was not utterly sure of. Why should he support the Malfoy at all? Despite what Harcourt said, there was a very real difference between risking his life and family for Harry Potter, whom Arthur thought of as a son in everything but blood and name, and risking his life and family for Draco Malfoy, with whom he had absolutely nothing in common.
Except…
Harcourt’s eyes gleamed as they spoke, fencing, almost feral in their knowledge, in their challenge.
Except for Ginny, who wanted to be an Auror; fifteen year old Ginny, who had no idea of the golden charisma that could so ensnare even the most wary of opponents, who willingly gave herself over to learning everything – everything – that Malfoy could teach her. Ginny, his youngest child, and his only daughter…
Her experiences in her first year had changed her, that was true enough, but the changes had only reinforced her strength and bravery – despite, or perhaps because of the Slytherin traits she had picked up, Ginny was Gryffindor to the bone. And if she decided that Draco Malfoy was worth fighting for, she would not count the costs.
“But why are you supporting Malfoy, Harcourt?” Arthur asked, turning the focus back onto the other man. “Why are you willing to risk so much?”
“Why?” mused Dane Harcourt, the High Clan Slytherin who had turned his back on almost all of his peers when he became an Auror. “Because I want to see Voldemort dead once and for all, and I don’t believe he can be defeated by idealists who have no real understanding of him. I hope Malfoy will join the Order, and bring to it everything that he has learned of the darkness. Is that enough for you?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t try to recruit Lucius, then,” Arthur said dryly.
Harcourt grinned. “I did, actually. But he declined.”
“Then what do you need me for, if you say you have no use for idealists with no true knowledge of what we face?”
“I did not say that, I said that idealists must be backed up by those who know the darkness. That’s why Snape is so invaluable. That’s why Lucius’ sins would have been forgiven – or at least conveniently forgotten – had he chosen to come over to us. And that’s why, in the absence of any other traitors of the same sort, I believe Draco is vital to the Order’s success.”
“And you would do…much to persuade him so, then.”
Harcourt lifted his brows, but the look in his eyes was completely and utterly serious. “No, Arthur. I would do everything.”
Arthur drew in a breath as he absorbed the enormity of that statement. Finally, reluctantly, he relented. “I have no right to make such an important decision without first discussing it with my family.”
Slowly, Harcourt nodded. “As you will, then,” he said softly. “As you will…”
*******************************************
Millicent Bulstrode was not stupid. She may be ugly – she had no illusions that she was in any way good looking – but she was most certainly not stupid. So that was why she had never given away even the slightest indication of her attraction to Draco, why she had played the role of occasional indifferent friend for so many years – because she knew that her feelings were girlish, adolescent and most certainly not reciprocated. And because she had no liking for playing the fool.
Millicent hated giggling girls who cared for nothing more than sex, clothes and gossip; her mother and two sisters were a perfect example of the type – her maternal grandmother, the only one who really understood her, had told her that they had more looks than brains and she should not envy them because they were popular and well liked, and she was…
Well, she was what she was. Solid, frumpy and socially awkward, her only redeeming feature was her intelligence, which she could not use directly because she was a female, and not even a pretty one, which might have given her some leverage in the matter. The Bulstrodes, unlike some of the elder Clans, were fiercely patriarchal – daughters and wives were ornamental, and good for nothing more than spending money and bearing children.
Perhaps that was why she felt some small admiration for Ginny Weasley, who was trying to break out of her own mould. Of course, Gryffindor girls had quite a lot more freedom, but still, with a mother like Molly Weasley…
And perhaps that was why, despite her Clan’s nominal alliance with Nott, she had kept quiet about the true depth of the Weasley girl's involvement with Malfoy. Slytherins understood shallow physical attraction and manipulation – they even admired it – but genuine intellectual interest, and, of all things, friendship? An alliance, with the Weasleys?
She had been watching them both for a while now, observing the growing connection – despite the pains Draco took to keep their meetings secret – with masochistic fascination. Draco had always been able to draw female attention, even at his most insufferable. Sex was something he could have for the crooking of his finger, but an intellectual connection with a woman was a very different – and far more precious – thing. Millicent didn’t think he had anything more than platonic intentions towards Ginny Weasley at all – yet. But one day…
She was far too rational and intelligent for the small tug of jealousy she felt at that thought. And being rational and intelligent, and having a sincere desire to puncture Theodore Nott’s self-importance, she decided that it would be far better to make sure the Weasley girl came to no harm and continued to aid Malfoy with her confidence that he could actually succeed in this mad gamble, with those great dark eyes willing to believe that Draco was a master manipulator to match the first Malfoy himself…
So, less than a week after William Harcourt’s death, after an interminable dinner spent watching Nott and his cronies observe Draco surreptitiously glancing over at the Gryffindor table – there was always covert observation of some sort going on in Slytherin – Millicent knew that they had discovered Draco’s interest in the Weasley girl. Of course, they had known that there was something going on between them, but tonight, Draco’s eyes had been too openly possessive…
And Nott’s eyes had sparkled with malevolent glee.
Noting Ginny’s departure from the Hall, Millicent made some excuse about working on an assignment in the library and walked out after her, feeling a little foolish to be chasing after another girl in this fashion. Red hair appeared in front of her, actually heading for the library, and Millicent increased her pace, her shoes ringing on the flagstones. She saw the other girl stop and turn around, frowning as she recognised Millicent, a moment of hesitation as she wondered just why she was following her. They had never crossed paths before, but Ginny – wary Ginny, finally learning something – knew enough to be wary of Millicent, simply because she was a Slytherin, and Malfoy would have told her of Clan Bulstrode’s political alignment. The younger girl tensed, as if to turn away, but Millicent held out a hand.
“Weasley, wait!” She felt very foolish now, but having decided to do this, she would not back away now.
“What do you want?” the other girl asked, very wary.
“Just to talk, nothing more.”
Ginny frowned, and Millicent tried her best to look open and innocent. It must have worked, or else her curiosity got the better of her. “What about?” she asked.
For a moment, Millicent wondered what exactly she would say. She was not in the habit of conversing with Gryffindors, and she didn’t know just how much Ginny knew about the situation… “Your relationship with Malfoy,” she blurted out, wincing as she heard herself speak.
The response was automatic, and far too vehement. “With Malfoy? I don’t have a relationship with Malfoy.”
Millicent sighed. “Your…interactions then, if you will. They have been noticed.”
Ginny lifted her chin. “So?”
“So, things could become very dangerous for you, if you continue.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” Millicent lowered her voice, stepped closer, looming over the shorter Gryffindor, who stubbornly refused to back down. “But this is not a game, Weasley, and it is not an inter-house squabble. You must take it seriously.”
“Oh believe me, I do take it seriously,” Ginny hissed, pushed into retaliating. “I am not a fool. I know what I’m doing –“
“Do you?” Millicent challenged. “Do you really? Then why are you still trying to convince yourself that you’re only learning from him, and that you and your family have no involvement at all in this power struggle?”
Ginny sucked in a breath. “I am only…”
“No,” she cut her off. “You’re all in too deep now. Even if your relationship with Malfoy is completely innocent, it is perceived otherwise…”
“By you?” came a very, very cold voice. Millicent fought to keep her face impassive as she writhed in shame inside. “My dear Millicent,” Draco drawled. “I had no idea that you had such an interest in my business. Tell me, what has prompted this concern?”
Draco had always been hatefully perceptive.
She refused to give him any satisfaction. “The fact that you automatically come to her defence,” she said. “She’s become…important to you.”
“Is that a warning?” he asked, too softly. Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Draco waved her to silence, his eyes holding Millicent’s.
“Yes,” Millicent lifted her own chin, refusing to back down from those silver eyes. “It’s a warning. He’ll destroy everything that you hold dear – everything that gives you strength, everything that inspires you to continue fighting.”
There was a slight pause to allow the intensity of the moment to fade. “I have not even said that I will fight,” he pointed out blandly.
“You have not said it,” Ginny chipped in, “but everyone knows it.” Her eyes were sincere – she actually believed what she said. For a split second, surprise and discomfiture flashed across Draco’s face. Millicent wondered if Ginny had the same faith in Draco that she did in Potter, or whether, because she actually knew Draco’s faults, that faith was all the stronger…
“Indeed,” Millicent said dryly. “It is taken for granted – even in Slytherin – that you will reject the Dark Lord’s offer.” But that belief was based on more secular reasons than Ginny’s faith.
Draco flashed her a look. It was clear that he had been considerably taken aback by Ginny’s declaration; he was not used to being the recipient of such belief, of such expectations. Especially not with the only intelligent daughter of Clan Bulstrode looking on.
Millicent took the hint. Having delivered her warning, and seen it received, she left them together to sort out their own problems.
*****************************************
Draco looked at Ginny in profound discomfort. He had no liking for what he saw in her eyes; it made him itchy and uncomfortable, as if he should be doing everything he could to live up to her expectations, and anything that didn’t was somehow unworthy of him. Shrugging his shoulders, avoiding her eyes, he scowled. “Don’t look at me like that, Weasley.”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Why are you so uncomfortable, Malfoy?”
“Because I’m not bloody perfect Potter. I’m not a golden Gryffindor hero. So stop looking at me as though I am.” Unbelievably, she laughed, her eyes dancing, genuinely amused. “What?” he demanded.
“You’re malicious, prejudiced, egocentric and manipulative,” she said, voice unsteady. “Don’t worry, you’re in no danger of being similar to Harry in any way. But,” she continued, “I do believe that you’re not about to join Voldemort, and that you’ll do much to bring him down.”
He sneered half-heartedly – damned by faint praise, indeed. It comforted him inexplicably, to know that she didn’t think him perfect. But then she ruined it.
“And I believe that you can succeed in anything that you put your mind to, if you want it badly enough, believe in it strongly enough…”
Damn. She really believed it. No wonder her father was worried… And then she put her hand on his arm, causing him to stiffen in surprise. “I want to help you, Draco…”
Dane Harcourt cursed all Gryffindors and their innate – some could say paranoid – wariness of Slytherin plots. Weasley was on the verge of backing out - William’s death and the message it had hammered home had shaken him badly, had brought home the true height of the stakes and the reality of everything they were risking for Malfoy. He wanted out, and so now Dane had to convince him that it was worth his while to stay in. He had lured Weasley into this by appealing to the things that most Slytherins understood – his ambition, his desire to remake things according to his own desires – and now, it seemed that he would have to appeal now to the man’s Gryffindoric instincts.
Idealistic values, such as making the world a better place, rather than focusing on what he could get out of this particular situation. It was like viewing the world through a skewed lens, and he wasn’t quite comfortable with it. For the slightest moment, he wished that he had Lucius’ eloquence…
But look where that ready tongue and quicksilver mind had gotten him.
Even so, it had taken some very quick talking to get the man to come with him today. Weasley’s loyalty and concern for his family was admirable, but Dane had had to point out that he was already risking everything every time he took Potter into his own home, had become associated with an enemy – the enemy – of the Dark Lord when the Weasleys became identified as Potter’s surrogate family. Illogically, Arthur had said that that was an entirely different thing. Evidently it was acceptable, even admirable, to risk everything for Harry Potter, but not for Draco Malfoy. Dane very rarely indulged in Slytherin anti-Gryffindor sentiment anymore, but there were some times when it was unavoidable.
He didn’t have Snape’s almost certain faith in young Malfoy – so out of character in such a cool, analytical and scientific man as the Potions Master – but nor did he share most of the wizarding world’s just as irrational faith in Potter, either. He didn’t believe that a sixteen-year-old boy could single-handedly take the fractured, divided High Clan into a new golden era, or even hope to defeat the worst Dark Lord of the century. But he did believe that, given enough support, both things could be done – after a fashion, and at a terrible price.
Hence this small meeting, in his club – the exclusive gentleman’s club that guaranteed discretion in all things, and charged accordingly. They went up the steps leading up to the old establishment, and he remembered the first time he had come here, when his father had put him up for membership on his sixteenth birthday. He himself had taken William for his first time, because by then their father had been dead…
“Good morning, sir,” said the impassive footman, taking his cloak. “I’m sorry to hear about your brother.”
Dane stiffened; there had been far too many condolences these last few days, and not all of them sincere. But the footman was blameless, so he automatically murmured something appropriate in return, and then hesitated, turned back. “Oh, and Timms,” he said casually, staring into the footman’s eyes, “this gentleman is with me.”
The footman looked at Weasley dubiously, but was very well trained, and Harcourt was a very influential patron, and so he only said “very good sir.”
A reluctant smile tugged at Dane’s mouth, and he took Weasley’s cloak and held it out to the footman, transferring a few gold coins as well as the cloak into the other’s hand. “Good man,” he said softly, and went in.
**************************************
Harcourt was pulling out all the stops for this. Arthur had been in politics for a long time, he had been courted before and he knew all the signs – the attention, the flattery, the lunches in expensive restaurants – but this was the first time that a Slytherin High Clan Lord had focused his whole attention on him, and he had to admit that, had he been less experienced, less suspicious of Harcourt’s motives, he might have been tempted.
He had been tempted before, but that was when it had been an intellectual exercise, when he had not had to risk his family. Now it was all too real – but he was sure that Harcourt would not let him go just because he wanted out. And that was where it got complicated. This subtle campaign – lunch at White’s, that most exclusive High Clan club, the entrée into the most powerful circles of influence in wizarding Britain, the information and the inside gossip that he could not, as simple Mr. Weasley, have ever dreamed of hearing – could turn dangerous, the courtship could turn into a more sinister pursuit…
But Arthur was determined, refused to commit himself to something he was not utterly sure of. Why should he support the Malfoy at all? Despite what Harcourt said, there was a very real difference between risking his life and family for Harry Potter, whom Arthur thought of as a son in everything but blood and name, and risking his life and family for Draco Malfoy, with whom he had absolutely nothing in common.
Except…
Harcourt’s eyes gleamed as they spoke, fencing, almost feral in their knowledge, in their challenge.
Except for Ginny, who wanted to be an Auror; fifteen year old Ginny, who had no idea of the golden charisma that could so ensnare even the most wary of opponents, who willingly gave herself over to learning everything – everything – that Malfoy could teach her. Ginny, his youngest child, and his only daughter…
Her experiences in her first year had changed her, that was true enough, but the changes had only reinforced her strength and bravery – despite, or perhaps because of the Slytherin traits she had picked up, Ginny was Gryffindor to the bone. And if she decided that Draco Malfoy was worth fighting for, she would not count the costs.
“But why are you supporting Malfoy, Harcourt?” Arthur asked, turning the focus back onto the other man. “Why are you willing to risk so much?”
“Why?” mused Dane Harcourt, the High Clan Slytherin who had turned his back on almost all of his peers when he became an Auror. “Because I want to see Voldemort dead once and for all, and I don’t believe he can be defeated by idealists who have no real understanding of him. I hope Malfoy will join the Order, and bring to it everything that he has learned of the darkness. Is that enough for you?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t try to recruit Lucius, then,” Arthur said dryly.
Harcourt grinned. “I did, actually. But he declined.”
“Then what do you need me for, if you say you have no use for idealists with no true knowledge of what we face?”
“I did not say that, I said that idealists must be backed up by those who know the darkness. That’s why Snape is so invaluable. That’s why Lucius’ sins would have been forgiven – or at least conveniently forgotten – had he chosen to come over to us. And that’s why, in the absence of any other traitors of the same sort, I believe Draco is vital to the Order’s success.”
“And you would do…much to persuade him so, then.”
Harcourt lifted his brows, but the look in his eyes was completely and utterly serious. “No, Arthur. I would do everything.”
Arthur drew in a breath as he absorbed the enormity of that statement. Finally, reluctantly, he relented. “I have no right to make such an important decision without first discussing it with my family.”
Slowly, Harcourt nodded. “As you will, then,” he said softly. “As you will…”
*******************************************
Millicent Bulstrode was not stupid. She may be ugly – she had no illusions that she was in any way good looking – but she was most certainly not stupid. So that was why she had never given away even the slightest indication of her attraction to Draco, why she had played the role of occasional indifferent friend for so many years – because she knew that her feelings were girlish, adolescent and most certainly not reciprocated. And because she had no liking for playing the fool.
Millicent hated giggling girls who cared for nothing more than sex, clothes and gossip; her mother and two sisters were a perfect example of the type – her maternal grandmother, the only one who really understood her, had told her that they had more looks than brains and she should not envy them because they were popular and well liked, and she was…
Well, she was what she was. Solid, frumpy and socially awkward, her only redeeming feature was her intelligence, which she could not use directly because she was a female, and not even a pretty one, which might have given her some leverage in the matter. The Bulstrodes, unlike some of the elder Clans, were fiercely patriarchal – daughters and wives were ornamental, and good for nothing more than spending money and bearing children.
Perhaps that was why she felt some small admiration for Ginny Weasley, who was trying to break out of her own mould. Of course, Gryffindor girls had quite a lot more freedom, but still, with a mother like Molly Weasley…
And perhaps that was why, despite her Clan’s nominal alliance with Nott, she had kept quiet about the true depth of the Weasley girl's involvement with Malfoy. Slytherins understood shallow physical attraction and manipulation – they even admired it – but genuine intellectual interest, and, of all things, friendship? An alliance, with the Weasleys?
She had been watching them both for a while now, observing the growing connection – despite the pains Draco took to keep their meetings secret – with masochistic fascination. Draco had always been able to draw female attention, even at his most insufferable. Sex was something he could have for the crooking of his finger, but an intellectual connection with a woman was a very different – and far more precious – thing. Millicent didn’t think he had anything more than platonic intentions towards Ginny Weasley at all – yet. But one day…
She was far too rational and intelligent for the small tug of jealousy she felt at that thought. And being rational and intelligent, and having a sincere desire to puncture Theodore Nott’s self-importance, she decided that it would be far better to make sure the Weasley girl came to no harm and continued to aid Malfoy with her confidence that he could actually succeed in this mad gamble, with those great dark eyes willing to believe that Draco was a master manipulator to match the first Malfoy himself…
So, less than a week after William Harcourt’s death, after an interminable dinner spent watching Nott and his cronies observe Draco surreptitiously glancing over at the Gryffindor table – there was always covert observation of some sort going on in Slytherin – Millicent knew that they had discovered Draco’s interest in the Weasley girl. Of course, they had known that there was something going on between them, but tonight, Draco’s eyes had been too openly possessive…
And Nott’s eyes had sparkled with malevolent glee.
Noting Ginny’s departure from the Hall, Millicent made some excuse about working on an assignment in the library and walked out after her, feeling a little foolish to be chasing after another girl in this fashion. Red hair appeared in front of her, actually heading for the library, and Millicent increased her pace, her shoes ringing on the flagstones. She saw the other girl stop and turn around, frowning as she recognised Millicent, a moment of hesitation as she wondered just why she was following her. They had never crossed paths before, but Ginny – wary Ginny, finally learning something – knew enough to be wary of Millicent, simply because she was a Slytherin, and Malfoy would have told her of Clan Bulstrode’s political alignment. The younger girl tensed, as if to turn away, but Millicent held out a hand.
“Weasley, wait!” She felt very foolish now, but having decided to do this, she would not back away now.
“What do you want?” the other girl asked, very wary.
“Just to talk, nothing more.”
Ginny frowned, and Millicent tried her best to look open and innocent. It must have worked, or else her curiosity got the better of her. “What about?” she asked.
For a moment, Millicent wondered what exactly she would say. She was not in the habit of conversing with Gryffindors, and she didn’t know just how much Ginny knew about the situation… “Your relationship with Malfoy,” she blurted out, wincing as she heard herself speak.
The response was automatic, and far too vehement. “With Malfoy? I don’t have a relationship with Malfoy.”
Millicent sighed. “Your…interactions then, if you will. They have been noticed.”
Ginny lifted her chin. “So?”
“So, things could become very dangerous for you, if you continue.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I think you do,” Millicent lowered her voice, stepped closer, looming over the shorter Gryffindor, who stubbornly refused to back down. “But this is not a game, Weasley, and it is not an inter-house squabble. You must take it seriously.”
“Oh believe me, I do take it seriously,” Ginny hissed, pushed into retaliating. “I am not a fool. I know what I’m doing –“
“Do you?” Millicent challenged. “Do you really? Then why are you still trying to convince yourself that you’re only learning from him, and that you and your family have no involvement at all in this power struggle?”
Ginny sucked in a breath. “I am only…”
“No,” she cut her off. “You’re all in too deep now. Even if your relationship with Malfoy is completely innocent, it is perceived otherwise…”
“By you?” came a very, very cold voice. Millicent fought to keep her face impassive as she writhed in shame inside. “My dear Millicent,” Draco drawled. “I had no idea that you had such an interest in my business. Tell me, what has prompted this concern?”
Draco had always been hatefully perceptive.
She refused to give him any satisfaction. “The fact that you automatically come to her defence,” she said. “She’s become…important to you.”
“Is that a warning?” he asked, too softly. Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Draco waved her to silence, his eyes holding Millicent’s.
“Yes,” Millicent lifted her own chin, refusing to back down from those silver eyes. “It’s a warning. He’ll destroy everything that you hold dear – everything that gives you strength, everything that inspires you to continue fighting.”
There was a slight pause to allow the intensity of the moment to fade. “I have not even said that I will fight,” he pointed out blandly.
“You have not said it,” Ginny chipped in, “but everyone knows it.” Her eyes were sincere – she actually believed what she said. For a split second, surprise and discomfiture flashed across Draco’s face. Millicent wondered if Ginny had the same faith in Draco that she did in Potter, or whether, because she actually knew Draco’s faults, that faith was all the stronger…
“Indeed,” Millicent said dryly. “It is taken for granted – even in Slytherin – that you will reject the Dark Lord’s offer.” But that belief was based on more secular reasons than Ginny’s faith.
Draco flashed her a look. It was clear that he had been considerably taken aback by Ginny’s declaration; he was not used to being the recipient of such belief, of such expectations. Especially not with the only intelligent daughter of Clan Bulstrode looking on.
Millicent took the hint. Having delivered her warning, and seen it received, she left them together to sort out their own problems.
*****************************************
Draco looked at Ginny in profound discomfort. He had no liking for what he saw in her eyes; it made him itchy and uncomfortable, as if he should be doing everything he could to live up to her expectations, and anything that didn’t was somehow unworthy of him. Shrugging his shoulders, avoiding her eyes, he scowled. “Don’t look at me like that, Weasley.”
She didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Why are you so uncomfortable, Malfoy?”
“Because I’m not bloody perfect Potter. I’m not a golden Gryffindor hero. So stop looking at me as though I am.” Unbelievably, she laughed, her eyes dancing, genuinely amused. “What?” he demanded.
“You’re malicious, prejudiced, egocentric and manipulative,” she said, voice unsteady. “Don’t worry, you’re in no danger of being similar to Harry in any way. But,” she continued, “I do believe that you’re not about to join Voldemort, and that you’ll do much to bring him down.”
He sneered half-heartedly – damned by faint praise, indeed. It comforted him inexplicably, to know that she didn’t think him perfect. But then she ruined it.
“And I believe that you can succeed in anything that you put your mind to, if you want it badly enough, believe in it strongly enough…”
Damn. She really believed it. No wonder her father was worried… And then she put her hand on his arm, causing him to stiffen in surprise. “I want to help you, Draco…”
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