Eight months later, two days before the infamous Battle of Hogwarts, the door opened at 12 Grimmauld Place. Three wizards stepped inside. Mad Eye Moody and Remus Lupin were flanking a third, who appeared seconds after his invisibility cloak was removed. He was a tall, fully cloaked and hooded wizard in slightly worn black leather boots. When he pulled his hood down, there was an audible gasp from the small crowd gathered around the entryway. A dozen or more wands were immediately drawn into striking position. The tall wizard made no move, only a familiar smirk worked its way across his face as he stood facing them, unflinching and unrepentant.
Out from behind the crowd, Albus Dumbledore quickly made his way toward the trio at the door, now with a semi-circle of the Order holding the intruder at bay. No one spoke. "Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I see you made it here safely," the old wizard said in a gentle voice. "Thank you Remus and Alastor." He acknowledged them with a dismissive nod. The two wizards broke ranks and melded into the crowd. Albus then turned to the members of the Order gathered there.
"Please, everyone, lower your wands. Mr. Malfoy is here in the service of The Order. He has been providing us with very valuable information throughout the War. We both feel the upcoming battle will be crucial to the outcome of the War. It is time that I made his identity known to you. Now, let us gather for the meeting." With that, a buzz of chatter ran through the room as all wands lowered simultaneously to rest.
Everyone present left for the room adjacent to the kitchen to attend the meeting. Everyone except Ginny. She stood leaning against the wall in the entrance hall. The same place she was standing when she saw him arrive, when Harry shoved her behind him and drew his wand. The place where he walked right by her, his cloak brushing her arm. She strained over Harry's form to catch a glimpse of his eyes, but he strode right past her, eyes never wavering from his chosen path. Ginny closed her eyes and sank to the floor, drawing her knees up close to her chest, and hugging them tightly with her arms. No one could make an entrance like that, no one but Draco Bloody Malfoy.
She dropped her forehead to her knees and closed her eyes. She wasn't an official member of the Order. She wasn't privy to their planning or their meetings or their strategy sessions. She was the lone Weasley in the dark. She had given up her place in the Order after Ron died in the Battle of Hogsmeade. It had been a family decision. They did not want to risk the life of their youngest sibling, their only sister, and their only daughter. Ginny had relented without too much of a protest because she saw how much her parents had been affected by Ron's death. She knew her loss would be the end of them both. Now she sat on the floor of 12 Grimmauld Place waiting on the outside while Malfoy spoke to The Order.
He hadn't even glanced at her. Did he realize she was in that crowd of people challenging him? Harry had thrown her behind him so quickly that she barely had time to react. Harry was like that now. They all were. Harry, who had always been Ron's ego and Ron, Harry's id, had turned into a complicated mix of the both. Harry, who felt the loss of Ron more than almost anyone else, stepped up to try to fill those shoes, to be their fallen son, their fallen brother, their fallen friend. He was as overly protective of Ginny as Ron had been. Ginny cringed at this. He was protective of her out of a misplaced sense of duty, and she had no need of his protection. She felt she should be giving him her protection, not the other way around. Since Ron's death, everything had been turned around.
She thew her head back against the wall with a 'thud' and looked up at the ceiling. She recalled with perfect clarity the last time she had seen Malfoy. It was two years ago, but it really seemed like two lifetimes ago. It was just before the War. It was a time when the wizarding world was still pretending that it could go on forever as it was, regardless of the amount of tension in the air. There had been that party and Draco and Pansy. She laughed to think of her jealousy, of her humiliation, of her stark realization that their relationship was a sham and a lie, and she was little more than a plaything for him. She had thought him a fool, a weakling, too entrapped by his own selfish desires and greed for power and money and privilege to understand what real love was all about. She remembered the feeling of his cold, Slytherin like sword piercing her heart, until her body and soul went cold and lifeless.
Why had he turned? When had he turned? She knew Pansy died in the Battle of Hogsmeade, but didn't dare speculate the impact that might have had on him. War was hell. Life was hell. Both sides had lost many, many loved ones. After awhile, she had become so numb and cold and detached that she questioned whether she was still alive or not. And then he had walked in the door at 12 Grimmauld Place, when she saw his face, his platinum blond hair, his magnificent steel grey eyes, she felt something that she had not felt in over two years, she felt her heart stretch its arms and breathe.
Two and a half hours later, Ginny was leaning against that same wall, resting her legs which had become cramped while she sat on the floor pondering. The silence was broken by the kitchen door flying open as members began streaming out of the room. She stood flush against the wall as the front door opened, watching members scatter back to their lives outside. There was the usual hum of banter and discussion. She was straining to see past the crowd of people, looking for that uniquely platinum blond hair, when she caught a glimpse of him walking toward the door, Dumbledore on his heels. She, like many others in the room, was staring at him, following his every movement, still disbelieving the reality of his presence at the heart of the Order.
Then he passed her again, but she had seen him and been so close to him she could have reached out and felt his breath on her fingertips. She closed her eyes. This was enough. It was more than enough. Suddenly she felt a quick arm around her waist and one on the back of her shoulders pulling her into a swift embrace. She opened her eyes in alarm and was met with two fiery, piercing steel grey cannons searing a path to her soul. Before she could think or react or even look away, his lips claimed hers in a fierce stranglehold. This wasn't the gentle, tender, passionate kisses they had shared as teenagers. This wasn't even a close cousin. His kiss pulsed with the desperation, the need, the passion of a dying man. He was rough and demanding, bruising her lips as he forced her them open. Her body was flush against his, and she felt his hands crushing her waist and her shoulders as he held her in a vise-like grip against him. Then, just as suddenly, he thrust her against the wall and was gone. Ginny gasped for air, put a surprised hand to her lips, and saw the eyes of the Order on her.