DISCLAIMER: All these characters were thought up in the brilliant mind of JK Rowling and they are owned by a bunch of people who aren’t me. Don’t sue! It’s just a fanfiction!
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Big thanks to everyone who’s helped me out with this especially Amy, Tessie and my DracoGinnyFanFic list. You’re all awesome and you make me want to write. And I love every single person who reviewed. I even had to email some of you personally you touched me so. This is shaping up to be pretty long. I hope you all stick with me throughout the journey. This chapter is in the same vein as the last one, hopefully you won‘t ditch me now. All of this chapter, last chapter and parts of the next chapter were supposed to be chapter one, so they’re all very similar.
* *
Once the shock wore off, Draco went to the library to do some research. The Malfoy family library had extensive volumes on all sorts of magic and spells, particularly Dark Magic. Young Draco had spent hours pouring over them, thinking of ways to torment his enemies. Most of the ideas he had never panned out but it gave him a great sense of superiority to know that he could do a spell that made everything you ate taste like cod liver oil.
He had never before gone into the library looking for a book on something other than magic. There was a first time for everything, he supposed. He knew what book he was looking for. He had found it once when looking for a spell that impregnated someone with demon spawn (one of those ideas that had never panned out).
Apparently, his mother purchased it when she found out she was pregnant with him. She was an only child and her mother had died just after Lucius and she were married. The neighbors still spread gossip about Lucius having killed his own mother-in-law. Anyhow, she hadn’t known what to expect when she was expecting so she bought this book. It was one of those guidebooks that explained having babies to dummies. Draco hated to admit it, but he definitely fell into that category.
Draco quickly located the book, which seemed thicker and filled with more words he didn’t understand than the last time he looked at it. He trudged up the stairs to his room with it in his hands. A tag team of bigger, meaner looking ones had replaced the single Death Eater. Draco sighed. He really wanted to get in there and talk to Ginny but he didn’t see how it was possible.
He was still pretending that he didn’t know the Dark Lord’s plan. He tried to conceal the book from the Death Eaters as he marched to his room. He wasn’t sure they were bright enough to have mastered reading but one could never be too careful. He didn’t know what Voldemort would do if he found out that Draco knew his plan. Would they do something to him? Or worse, do something to Ginny and the baby? Draco didn’t want to scare them off. If they moved her from Malfoy Manor then he’d lose what little chance of contacting Ginny he had.
He stopped and listened. There were no sounds coming from her room. Good, he thought. Maybe she was finally getting some sleep. She needed the rest. He wondered if she was freaking out like he was. In a matter of a few weeks, his entire world had been turned upside down.
The morning after he finally remembered what happened, Draco couldn’t even bring himself to get out of bed. His mother believed he was sick and told everyone he had the flu. He wished that was all that was wrong with him. He couldn’t get over the look on his father’s face when he had done that spell. It was as if he had been turning toothpicks to needles or something completely mundane like that. It was just another day. Draco actually became physically ill when he thought about it.
But everyday he reported to breakfast, lunch and dinner without fail. He was not surprised to find that nothing had changed. They all carried on exactly as before. If there was one thing he had learned from his family, it was how to pretend that nothing was wrong even if the world was falling down around you. Someone outside watching them would never be able to tell the difference between the Draco who respected and admired his father and the Draco who hated his father with all his heart.
It made him curious as to what was going on behind his parents’ facades. Was Lucius planning to murder the both of them? Or was he really a good guy deep down and he was just doing what he thought was best for his family? Was Narcissa perfectly happy with just having things look nice on the outside? Or did she want to get the heck out of these walls as much as Draco did? Really, who could tell?
He couldn’t believe he had been fooled by them for so long; he had always fancied himself smart. When he was young he thought his parents were perfect. He imagined that their love was like it was in children’s storybooks. When they met each other the sun truly shown for the first time and angels of heaven (or somewhere else) came down to sing their chorus. Then little baby Draco had come along and he was just the apple of their eye, their ideal son.
The baby book fell open to a page that Narcissa had dog-eared. It was the story of a single mother dealing with her pregnancy alone. Had it been like that for her? Would it be like that for Ginny?
Inevitably, all thoughts on his parents led down the hall to Ginny. In his mind he pictured her tiny figure getting swollen up like she were nine months pregnant already, although according to the book the baby was probably only about the size of a grain of rice. He desperately wanted to see her, to ask her how she was doing and to see if there was anything he could help her with.
Mostly, he just wanted to know what was going on. Was she feeling all right? Did she blame him? Did she even know what had happened? He wanted to be more involved, not just some guy who knocked her up then handed her over to the Dark Lord. Basically, he wanted to be a better father than Lucius.
However, there wasn’t much he could do. Every day that passed, Draco realized there was something else he didn’t know. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know how pregnant she was. Conception could have happened any of the nights they were together and he wasn’t exactly sure how many of those there were. It had probably been several weeks.
The book wasn’t much help. It only served to frighten him by telling him absolutely every little thing that could possibly go wrong. For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing he were a Muggle because then the pictures wouldn’t move. He could’ve surely done without the dancing diagram of the ten-week-old fetus shouting ‘I can pee’ because its genitals had formed.
Every other page was lined with instructions and warnings that made Draco’s head spin. Worries flooded his mind like a tidal wave. What if something happened to Ginny? Or worse, what if something happened to the baby? There weren’t any mediwizards here and it wasn’t like they could take her to the nearest hospital. If there were a problem, there would be no one to help her.
Even more frightening than the possibility that something would go wrong was the chance that everything would go smoothly. Then, in a few short months there would be a tiny sack of flesh that did nothing but cry, eat and poop, needing constant supervision. As much as Draco wanted to be a good father, he knew there was a high probability that he would suck royally at it. Look who he had for a teacher.
Children made Draco nervous. Whenever someone handed him a baby he handed it back as soon as possible. He didn’t like kids. Heck, he didn’t like grown-ups. People in general were perhaps the most loathsome, vile creatures ever put on the face of the Earth as far as he was concerned. Every person he had ever met had something horribly wrong with them. They were full of themselves, stupid, ugly, dirty, whiny, sniveling, poorly bred, or made loud noises when they ate. And the kid would have to grow up with these people all around him.
He stayed up every night listening for sounds coming from Ginny’s room. He needed some hint as to what was going on with her. Mostly the nights were silent. Occasionally he could vaguely make out the sound that could only be her quiet sobs. He could see her in his mind’s eye, crouching on the ground between the large bed and the nightstand clutching her knees to her as the streams of tears found their way down her face.
He wanted so badly to go and say something that would make it better. But he knew even if he could get in to see her, there wouldn’t be anything that he could say. She had been ripped from her family, imprisoned in a strange place and forced to bear a child for the Dark Lord. Most people would probably have lost their minds by now. He wasn’t very good at comforting others anyway.
The mere thought of her tears made Draco want to cry with her and also rage against her captors. He wondered how those Death Eaters could just stand outside her door, listening to her moaning and not feel moved to do something. Were they such horrible people, so dead inside, that it didn’t bother them in the least?
It occurred to him that just a few months ago he would’ve done the same thing. If he had ever heard Ginny Weasley crying at Hogwarts, he would’ve ignored it. Or even more likely, he would’ve ridiculed her in an attempt to get her to cry some more. He had been happiest when a Weasley was crying.
He was a horrible person and he knew it. Pretty soon, he would have the dubious distinction of being a horrible father too.
* *
Draco rubbed his temples. The clock told him it was around 3 a.m. Ginny hadn’t made a peep tonight. He hoped everything was all right. His greatest fear was that something important would happen and he wouldn’t even know about it. Draco hated being so cut off but there weren’t really any other options. He could stay, and pretend to be a good boy as he had been doing or he could leave. Then he’d be shut off completely and that simply wouldn’t do.
He sighed and reread the passage. He didn’t understand it at all. Normally he’d blame it on the fact that nothing made proper sense at 3 a.m. but that wasn’t it. Things hadn’t made sense since he had come home. Perhaps he hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around what was going on. It was a lot to process. Add all the funny terms in the baby book and his brain had gone into complete meltdown. What was "Cephalopelvic disproportion" anyway?
A rustling in the dark hallway snapped him out of his thoughts. Who the hell would be up and around at this time of night?
There were voices. Draco leapt from the bed. He needed to get closer if he wanted to make them out. He pressed his ear against the door hoping that the thick wood wouldn’t muffle the sounds too much.
"...which room?" said the first voice Draco couldn’t place.
"The one at the end of the hall." He pushed his head closer to the wood. Were they talking about Ginny’s room?
"Not that one," said a third voice that he immediately knew as his father’s. "The library with the red oak door."
Draco’s heart sunk. That wasn’t Ginny’s room, it was across the hall and a few doors down. Still, he was curious. What were they doing there? The Death Eaters always met in Lucius’ study or the main ballroom. He waited for their voices to fade, then tentatively pushed the door open silently cursing it for squeaking.
He peaked his head out, looking both ways down the hall. No one was coming. Clothed only in his silk pajamas, Draco padded down the long corridor without a sound. He could sneak around Malfoy Manor like no one else could, but he could never be too careful. His bare feet unconsciously stopped in front of Ginny’s door. It wasn’t guarded anymore. He wanted to knock. He had so many questions.
He looked from Ginny’s door to the library door. He knew he couldn’t. They were too close. They’d hear him if he did anything. Silently, he resigned himself to the fact that now was not the time. It was foolish to try anything under their noses. Maybe the Death Eaters could answer some of his nagging questions. That was better than nothing.
The door to the library was left slightly ajar. Draco had to be careful that no one saw him standing outside, listening to their every word.
"I trust everything went smoothly, Lucius?" The voice cut through the night. It was softer than the others were but more sinister and high-pitched, almost like a woman. No, more like nails on a chalkboard. It made Draco shudder. He had never heard Lord Voldemort speak before. He sounded bored as if it were run-of-the-mill to do such Dark Magic. When Draco thought about it, he realized it probably was.
"Yes, Master." Draco flinched as his father murmured the words. He pictured him wearing the same statement he had that night in Draco’s room. Submissive, hallow, evil.
"Lucius performed an intricate spell beforehand on the girl," Voldemort announced to the other Death Eaters. A faint ripple of chatter swept across the room. Draco imagined them all hissing to one another wondering why Lucius had been the one the Dark Lord chose. They were silenced when the Dark Lord spoke again. "It will ensure that my heir is born with powers comparable to my own. He will be a great addition to our Cause. I suspect Dumbledore and his Muggle loving followers won’t stand much a chance against us once he has risen to full strength."
Draco scoffed. He had never had much respect for Dumbledore, none in fact, but he knew that once people went around saying things like "they won’t stand a chance against us now!" a painful death was usually not far off.
"Unfortunately," Voldemort continued, "that will take time. I have waited over a decade for this; a few more years will not matter. However, we need to protect ourselves these coming years."
The Death Eaters sounded their assent. Some nodded. Others clapped. Draco rolled his eyes.
"I lost many faithful followers in the years I was without my body and since this war began we have only lost more. Our numbers are dwindling."
The hooded men began to cry out promises. They had children, nephews, brothers, and cousins who would join Voldemort’s ranks. They heard that so-and-so was thinking of joining the Cause. They all reminded Draco of the way the house elves ran around to find anything for Draco to eat when he was hungry. Lucius Malfoy was noticeably silent.
"Lucius..." the Dark Lord hissed.
"Of course, my Lord," he sputtered. "The entire Malfoy family is at your service."
Draco felt like being sick right there on the shiny, marble floor. Was dear old dad about to sign him up for more extracurricular activities?
"Good," said Voldemort seemingly pleased. He spoke louder so the other Death Eaters could hear. "Let it be known that we are now recruiting new purebloods to take the Dark Mark. I expect you all to bring new Death Eaters to me." His voice got colder, if that were possible. "Be warned, the Resistance will try to infiltrate us with spies," he paused. Draco assumed he was glancing suspiciously around the room. "This cannot occur. Anyone who brings a spy into the fold will be killed."
They collectively breathed in sharply.
"I’ll tell Draco," Lucius assured Voldemort who chuckled mirthlessly.
"No need. He’s right outside the door."
Draco’s stomach fell into the floor. Had he been that obvious? How long had Voldemort known? Suddenly, the door in front of him swung open revealing Draco’s father. He was not pleased.
"Draco!" he barked ashamed that his son was eavesdropping on his personal conversations and worst of all, hiding in the shadows like some common criminal.
For the first time, Draco got a good look at the people in the room. He had never seen Voldemort up close before. The man was hideous. He couldn’t imagine what kind of hatred would drive a person to do magic that would make himself look that way. He tried not to look too repulsed when the Dark Lord stepped nearer to him. Pretend this is the greatest moment of your life, he instructed himself. Evil boys and girls could only dream of the day they would stand before Lord Voldemort and tell him that they would serve him loyally. Draco knew this because he had been one of those poor, deluded fools.
He tried not to focus on the disgusting, snakelike face. He looked away pretending it was a sign of respect. He recognized some of the faces that dotted the room. Crabbe and Goyle’s fathers were standing in the back looking just as vacant as their sons. The executioner, MacNair was idly leaning against the stacks. None of this surprised him. He had suspected they were Death Eaters all along. But the man standing directly behind Lucius did give Draco a start.
The dark eyes of Severus Snape stared back at him. The thought that his former Professor had been in league with Voldemort had never crossed his mind. He had always thought Snape was a good man. He was a mean and nasty man, sure, but that had nothing to do with whose side of the war you were on. His father put on a polite, respectable face to the world, and look what he was. Snape was a trusted friend of Dumbledore and a Professor at Hogwarts. Draco had never known the old coot to be so wrong about someone.
Snape’s face twisted in a way Draco had never seen it before. Then he shook his head and looked away seemingly unable to stand the sight before him. Draco couldn’t make out the emotions playing across his teacher’s face. Was that shame? Fear? Pity? But somehow, whatever the emotion was, it made Draco feel ten times worse than all of Lucius’ yelling could ever hope to. He wished now that he had just stayed in his room.
"Draco! What are you...?!?" Lucius began only to have Voldemort cut him off.
"Curiosity is not a sin, Lucius." He even seemed impressed that Draco was sneaky enough to get pass the Death Eaters. He turned and addressed Draco. "Do you know what we were discussing, Draco?"
"Yes," he stammered concentrating on not being frightened. "You want new Death Eaters."
The Dark Lord nodded. "Before that, boy."
Draco tried not to react to being called ‘boy.’ He hated that but he couldn’t let them know. "You were talking about the baby."
Voldemort smiled sadistically. "So you know of the plan to give me an heir?"
Draco nodded. There was not point in concealing the truth.
"Figured it out on your own have you?" Again, Draco nodded. Instead of being angry, as Draco had thought he’d be, the Dark Lord seemed pleased. "You’re a smart boy, Draco. You’ll be a worthy addition to the cause. I trust you’re ready to accept the Dark Mark."
"Yes," Draco said dully, trying to pretend he wanted nothing more than to have a repugnant snake burned into his forearm.
Voldemort smiled, if that were possible with his face. "Good, good." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You would have it done this very evening?"
Draco panicked. Of course he didn’t want to have it done at all but if he refused the Dark Lord then Lucius would kick him out. And if Lucius kicked him out he would surely never see his child. "Yes," he said again his voice wavering audibly.
In front of him, Lucius beamed proudly. The Dark Lord wanted his son to join their ranks! Snape scowled darkly and turned away. He couldn’t take this anymore.
"It won’t be done tonight," Voldemort said simply. Relieved, Draco let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. "I wish to wait until my heir is born. You will both be branded in the same ceremony. It will be a symbolic gesture. You, the boy’s biological father will hand him over to me, his true father."
Draco forced a smile. He wanted to shout that he would never give his baby over to Voldemort. But then his gray eyes met with Snape’s calm black ones, and somehow he managed to restrain himself. He gritted his teeth. He would be composed like his teacher was if it killed him.
"As you wish," he stated emotionlessly never taking his eyes of Snape.
"It’s settled then," replied Voldemort obliviously. "You will be seeing much more of me in the future, Draco." A chill ran throughout Draco’s entire body. That was the last thing he wanted.
Voldemort’s voice had a note of finality that made the Death Eaters disapparate with sudden ‘pops.’ They asked no questions nor said another word. They just left as if he had commanded it. Only Snape offered Draco a strange, half smile-half grimace then disappeared. Finally with a slight nod of his head to his future Death Eater, Voldemort too disapparated from the room leaving Lucius and his son alone.
His father looked down upon his son, light shining in his eyes. Draco never recalled his father ever being proud of him before. When he had become Seeker for Slytherin, Lucius had threatened to take his broom away if he didn’t beat Harry Potter. When he had been named Head Boy, he was angry that Hermione Granger still beat him at every exam. He hadn’t even bothered to come to his Hogwarts’ graduation because of something Voldemort had asked him to do.
It was a true testament to the character of Lucius Malfoy that he was near tears over the worst moment of Draco’s life. "Well this is a happy day," he declared joyously.
Draco had never wanted to hit someone so badly in his entire life.
* *
The next day, Draco was informed that he was now to be a part of all the Death Eater’s hair-brained schemes. They let him in on all their secrets and showed him all the gruesome things they were doing in other wings of the house. The first thing he found out was that they were once again plotting the death of Harry Potter.
It was particularly elaborate plan. Even though they had failed every year Draco could remember, the Death Eaters were not discouraged. It seemed that every time they failed to kill the Boy Who Lived, they just thought up a more complex and ridiculous way to do it next time. Then they wondered why it never worked. Draco couldn’t help but laugh at them. (Which his father didn’t approve of at all.) It was one of the few things that had made him laugh since the whole thing started. They were just that pathetic. They would’ve made millions if they formed their own comedy troupe.
He wouldn’t call Harry a friend, in fact ‘bitter enemies’ was more like it. He had wished Potter dead more times than he could count. Sometimes, he had even tried to do the job himself. Still, he found comfort in the idea that Scarface was safe. Ginny wouldn’t want him to die.
No matter how devoted he acted or how much he sucked up, Draco still wasn’t allowed anywhere near Ginny’s room. The closest he ever got was in his room at night. He tried not to let it get him down. He was sure he’d be able to get in there one day, he just wasn’t sure how he’d do it. The plotting took up a great deal of his time. He had many ideas but none of them were plausible.
He often pretended to be sick or tired so he could return to his room. He’d wile away the midnight hours with nothing but his wand illuminated as he read his book over and over again. He found far more joy in listening for sounds coming from Ginny’s room than he did doing pony tricks for his parents. He was sorely tempted to just stop getting out of bed in the morning. He could hex himself or something, then they wouldn’t be curious.
Ginny was now nearing the end of her first trimester. The book said that the second trimester was usually the easiest on the expectant mother.
"The beginning of the second trimester usually marks a decrease in pregnancy hormones. This should result in less mood swings and crankiness," he read aloud one night.
At that exact moment there was a loud pounding. She was trying to beat the door down. "You bastards! Let me out of here!" Ginny shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Argh!" she yelled in frustration. Then there was a loud crashing noise that could only be a heavy piece of furniture shattering as it was hurled at the heavy door.
"Thank God for that," Draco muttered wryly as he heard the Death Eater enter her room in an attempt to shut her up. He hoped she had another piece of furniture for him or at least got a good kick in.
* *
The hot summer months soon yielded to the barren winter ones. Thankfully, the Death Eaters shelved most of their plans until the weather was better. It snowed more than Draco ever remembered it. Narcissa was struck with a dreadful bought of the flu. She had to be bundled up and waited on constantly. She demanded the most ridiculous things and insisted they were critical to her healing process. Draco was a bit concerned about his mother, but the whole ordeal made him worry about Ginny more. He hoped she and the baby were comfortable in the drafty mansion. She wouldn’t have the same luxuries Narcissa did if she got sick.
At Christmastime he went scouring Diagon Alley for presents that his mother would approve of with his father. Last year she had reamed them for just sending the house elves to buy her gifts. She said it wasn’t in the "Christmas spirit" but still wouldn’t allow them to take anything expensive back to the store. So this year Draco and Lucius, regretfully, had to spend the whole day shopping together. Lucius glared disdainfully at the people who jostled him as they rushed up and down the street.
"Commoners," he spat.
He didn’t approve of any of the shops either. All the items were "tacky" or "ordinary."
Draco glanced around at all the other families. They were all capable of performing such a simple task. Why couldn’t Lucius just be civil for once? He sighed regretfully. He should’ve just left his father in Knockturn Alley. For a few glorious moments he had an easy time shopping when Nott showed up and engaged Lucius in conversation.
He clutched his bag protectively. He had even managed to buy a gift for the baby without Lucius seeing. He realized that the baby wasn’t due for four more months but he couldn’t help himself. It was just a tiny gift, a fuzzy blanket to keep the baby warm after it was born. He had even resisted buying the ridiculously expensive one that claimed to be woven with hairs from a unicorn. Draco had doubts about its authenticity, besides his was just as good. It was creamy white with blue embroidery and no helpless magical creatures had to have their manes ripped out of their heads to make it.
"Are you done yet?" Lucius asked irritably. Before Draco could answer he made a sound like he had just discovered that he had stepped in something displeasing. "Ugh." He lifted his nose into the hair haughtily. "It’s that Weasely woman."
Draco spun around eagerly to look. Sure enough, Molly Weasley was ambling down the street with tons of boxes shoved underneath her arms. Her face was downcast. The people lining the streets (besides Lucius) looked at her with pity and whispered about her missing daughter. He had only seen her briefly when getting on in off the train to Hogwarts, but she had always looked happy to Draco. There was none of that now. She looked worn out and sleep deprived. The Christmas cheer bubbling up from the surrounding stores seemed to have no effect on her. She was clearly just going through the motions not really "celebrating" Christmas.
Narcissa’s words rung in his head. "I was just thinking how horrible it would be to lose your child."
He wanted to run over to her - to say something so she’d know that Ginny was alive, that she was about to be a grandmother, or at least to help carry her bags. But Lucius was disgusted by the display.
"She should be happy," he said bitterly, "now she’s got one less kid she can’t afford." He grabbed Draco roughly by the arm. "Let’s go," he said with a note of finality in his voice. "I can’t stand being around these peasants anymore."
As Lucius hustled him toward the Leaky Cauldron, Draco looked over his should to get a last glance of Mrs. Weasley. She had dropped all her bags and was hastily picking them up but every time she piled one into her arms another one would drop. She was flustered and completely embarrassed when the boxes opened up spilling their contents all over the street.
No one made any move to help her pick the cheap presents up. And it wasn’t for lack of noticing her. He even heard one woman comment that most of the gifts were second hand. The woman with her laughed. Draco guessed their pity for Molly losing Ginny didn’t extend to actually lifting a hand to help her.
Draco craned his neck to see her until the door to the Leaky Cauldron slammed shut behind him. Last he saw, a man in expensive, black robes had stepped on one of the of the presents crushing its box and destroying whatever had been inside with a loud shattering sound. Draco never heard him apologize.
* *
In January when Ginny was beginning her third trimester, Draco spotted an article in the Daily Prophet that caught his eye. It was about Ginny. He looked up furtively to make sure his father and mother weren’t looking. They were engaged with a house elf who had burned breakfast. He folded the paper over and scanned the article.
DISAPPEARANCE SOLVED BY MINISTRY
LONDON - The Ministry of Magic announced yesterday that it has closed the investigation into the disappearance of Ginny Weasley. As reported months ago in the Daily Prophet, Miss Weasley, 18, vanished from King’s Cross Station in June while returning from her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.
"We are pleased to have finally solved this case," said Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. "It was very troubling for all involved. We can only hope that we have brought some relief to the grieving Weasley family."
The missing girl was the only daughter of Ministry Official Arthur Weasley.
"It came as a great shock to us. We really didn’t want to believe it was possible," said the Minister shaking his head sadly when asked about his reaction to when a team of highly trained Ministry detectives delivered the news. After thorough investigation it was determined that Miss Weasley fell from the platform at King’s Cross only to be tragically run over by the Hogwarts Express.
When asked what the Minister planned to do to avoid future accidents he responded gravely, "I’m afraid there’s not much we can do, the train belongs to Hogwarts. We have asked Headmaster Dumbledore to replace the death trap but he refuses to comply."
"No, I do not plan to get rid of the Hogwarts Express," said Dumbledore via owl. "I am still not convinced that it was the cause of Miss Weasley’s disappearance. After all, when someone is run over by a train there is usually a body found afterward."
The Minister refutes Dumbledore’s position calling it "Poppycock! Of course she was run over by the train. Dumbledore just refuses to see facts."
The Weasley family refused to officially comment on the Ministry’s findings. However the Daily Prophet managed to hear Arthur Weasley calling the matter "Ridiculous!" as he left his Ministry office early yesterday.
Obviously, Mr. Weasley shares the Ministry and the Daily Prophet’s view that Dumbledore should get rid of that monstrous train.
Draco shook his head gravely. He had never had great faith in the Ministry’s competence but this took the cake. They obviously felt that since they hadn’t been able to solve the case, the next logical thing to do was blame Dumbledore. That put to rest any futile hope of the Aurors coming to rescue Ginny.
If Ginny was ever to be freed then there were only two people for Draco to pin his hopes on. The first was Dumbledore, who Draco had despised and ridiculed for the better part of his life. Even more frightening, the other was Draco himself. He was the only one who knew where Ginny was and what they had done to her. Although he couldn’t see himself ever rescuing her as he still hadn’t even managed to make contact with her. Besides, he wasn’t the brave knight riding the white horse type.
"Draco?" Narcissa called, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts. "Draco, sweetie, are you all right?"
"Hm?" He looked up startled to find her staring at him with a concerned statement on her face. He looked around. Lucius was gone. "Where’s Father?"
"He left," she said simply as if he should’ve know that already. She got even more worried. Was he having blackouts?
He scowled. "Typical." Not hearing what he said, Narcissa came over to him and put her hand on his forehead. "Mum!" he cried as he jerked his head away from her.
"Are you sick?" she asked in a motherly tone. "You look pale. Have some orange juice." She pushed a glass toward him as if that would solve all his problems.
"Mum! I’m fine," he protested as he took the glass.
She looked at him skeptically and sighed. "Ever since you got home, I don’t know what it is...you just don’t seem like my little boy anymore."
He avoided her gaze. "I’m not your little boy anymore," he said sullenly.
She made a disapproving noise. "Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll always be my little boy." He looked up at her to find her smiling at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. "Unless of course you’re arrested," she said thoughtfully. "Then you’re ‘Steve’ and don’t know anyone named Malfoy."
Draco laughed spitting orange juice across the table.
* *
Draco started having trouble sleeping at the end of February. Ginny was due in mid March. What if she went into labor early? Would the baby still be all right? What if something had already happened and he just didn’t know about it. He thought he was going to develop an ulcer from worrying or maybe gray hair, not that it’d make much of a difference with his silvery hair.
He was constantly listening for anything that could give him clues as to what was going on. Mostly he tried to get news on Ginny, but he also collected anything he could on the Death Eaters’ plans. He felt like a spectator in his own home, unable to do anything but watch, wait and listen.
One particularly gloomy evening was supposed to be the attack on Harry Potter’s life. Thankfully, the Death Eaters didn’t yet trust Draco enough to involve him. Lucius had also pointed out that Harry might recognize Draco’s voice since they had been at Hogwarts together. So the Dark Lord was satisfied in leaving Draco behind. No one was more thrilled about it than Draco himself. As the night progressed, he would only get happier and happier about being left behind.
Around 4 a.m. a loud commotion cut through the silence. It sounded like a million people running through the house screaming. Draco had been half-asleep but sat straight up in bed when he heard the noise. The first thing that entered his head was Ginny. He had heard yelling. His pulse began to race with fear he had never known before.
His heart finally started beating at a reasonable pace when he realized the sound hadn’t come from Ginny’s end of the hall. All was well down that direction. It seemed to have been below Draco. The lower level of the manor was being used as home base for the Death Eaters. Then it hit him: the attack. Something must have gone wrong. He couldn’t say he was surprised.
He jumped from the bed and pressed his ear against the door. There were faint voices crying out in the distance.
"What happened?" shouted a voice he couldn’t identify.
"They knew we were coming!" That one was vaguely familiar. It took a moment for Draco to place it. It was MacNair.
"Who’d they get?" the first Death Eater asked.
MacNair listed about a half dozen names. The other cursed. "Dead or alive?" he asked.
"Alive," said MacNair. "But not for long." His last statement hung ominously in the air. Draco knew what came next. It was another thing that separated Draco from the Death Eaters. They were all comfortable with it. He wasn’t.
The Ministry of Magic had ways of making Death Eaters talk. Things that made Draco’s skin crawl. But the Dark Lord had an even better way of keeping that from happening. It was routine. In a few minutes, more Death Eaters would be sent in. They’d get as close as they could without revealing themselves. Then they would use the Killing Curse on everything that moved. Such was war.
Draco hung his head. He hoped Dumbledore was ready for it. The Resistance agents had to get out of there if they didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire. None of the Death Eaters would be sad to see a few Ministry blokes go. Even Harry Potter could deflect only so many Killing Curses. As for the Death Eaters who were about to die, he couldn’t get himself to care too much. All Draco could think was that his mother would be glad there were fewer people in and out of her home. They left stains on the carpet.
Footsteps pounded against the floor. The sound reverberated in the empty rooms. Draco peered out from his keyhole to see what was going on. Every Death Eater they could find was being called to do damage control. A blur of black robes shot past his door. He paused. That was curious. The only Death Eater down that end of the hallway was...
He jerked the door open forcefully. The hallway was empty. Ginny’s door was unguarded.
He could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He cautiously took a step forward not willing to believe his good fortune. His whole body was shaking with fear and anticipation. He looked left and right. There really was no one.
No one to stop him. With that thought, his fear left him. He rushed forward. There was no time to waste. This was his chance! All the things he wanted to say and do flooded his mind.
"Ginny!" he cried before he even reached the door. "Ginny!" He pounded his fist furiously on the heavy wood. "Alohomora!" he barked but nothing happened. "Alohomora!" he said again more desperately. He cursed loudly. "How do you get this damn thing open?"
A quiet voice stopped all his anger. Suddenly he couldn’t think at all. It echoed in his mind and in his heart. "Like they’re going to tell me," she scoffed.
"Ginny," he breathed. He had a million things he wanted to say to her but all of them had left his mind when she spoke.
"Draco?" she asked incredulously.
He nodded then realized she couldn’t see him through the thick door. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "It’s me."
"What’s happening?" she asked in a scared voice.
"There was an attack. A lot of Death Eaters got captured..." he explained all the while thinking to himself that there were more important things to discuss but not being able to vocalize any of his thoughts.
She gasped. "Was anyone hurt?" she asked. She sounded like she was shaking with worry.
He wondered why she cared about the Death Eaters before he realized what she meant. Her family was a large part of the Resistance. She hadn’t seen them in nine months. She must have been going out of her head not knowing what was going on with them. "They’re fine, Ginny," he assured her.
He heard her whimper and knew that she was crying. He wished he could think of something more comforting to say but he had never comforted a girl when she was crying before. He always just walked away because he didn’t care. Now he did and it was killing him.
"Ginny, how are you? How’s the baby?" he asked in a soft voice.
She sniffed trying to stop the crying. He knew she didn’t want to show weakness. "I’m fine," she said indignantly. "Why do you care?"
"Ginny..." he began hurt by her coldness. Didn’t she know he wanted to help? "I’m the father."
As the words left his mouth he felt a great swelling in his heart. That was the first time he had ever said it aloud. I’m the father, he repeated over and over in his head. I’m going to be a father.
She snorted. "I know that," she spat, highly affronted that he was implying she didn’t know who the father of her baby was.
He opened his mouth to say something back to her, to let her know that he wanted to be a real father not just a sperm donor. He wanted to tell her that he was worried about her and that he was staying just for her. Most of all, he wanted her to know that he hadn’t been part of the plan. He wasn’t evil like his father; he had been used like her.
But the words never left his lips.
There was more shouting from the lower level. It was no longer disjointed voices yelling for help. It was one dark mixture of hissing and screaming at the others for their incompetence. The fear gripped him again. It was Voldemort.
"You better go," she whispered with the same level of fear in her own voice.
"Ginny, but I," he protested looking back at the open door of his room. How much time did he have to get back there without getting caught?
"Go!" she hissed. She would get in just as much trouble as he would. He had to leave. She shouldn’t be upset this close to the delivery. But there were so many things he hadn’t told her yet. "Please."
“I’m sorry," he said. He was sorry he was such a coward, that he ran back to his room and hid under the covers. He was sorry that he had hurt her. He was sorry that she was going through so much. He was sorry he couldn’t do more to help. Most of all he was sorry that he couldn’t express how much she and the baby meant to him and that if she ever really needed him he wouldn’t run.
*
AUTHOR’S NOTES: Big thanks to everyone who’s helped me out with this especially Amy, Tessie and my DracoGinnyFanFic list. You’re all awesome and you make me want to write. And I love every single person who reviewed. I even had to email some of you personally you touched me so. This is shaping up to be pretty long. I hope you all stick with me throughout the journey. This chapter is in the same vein as the last one, hopefully you won‘t ditch me now. All of this chapter, last chapter and parts of the next chapter were supposed to be chapter one, so they’re all very similar.
* *
Once the shock wore off, Draco went to the library to do some research. The Malfoy family library had extensive volumes on all sorts of magic and spells, particularly Dark Magic. Young Draco had spent hours pouring over them, thinking of ways to torment his enemies. Most of the ideas he had never panned out but it gave him a great sense of superiority to know that he could do a spell that made everything you ate taste like cod liver oil.
He had never before gone into the library looking for a book on something other than magic. There was a first time for everything, he supposed. He knew what book he was looking for. He had found it once when looking for a spell that impregnated someone with demon spawn (one of those ideas that had never panned out).
Apparently, his mother purchased it when she found out she was pregnant with him. She was an only child and her mother had died just after Lucius and she were married. The neighbors still spread gossip about Lucius having killed his own mother-in-law. Anyhow, she hadn’t known what to expect when she was expecting so she bought this book. It was one of those guidebooks that explained having babies to dummies. Draco hated to admit it, but he definitely fell into that category.
Draco quickly located the book, which seemed thicker and filled with more words he didn’t understand than the last time he looked at it. He trudged up the stairs to his room with it in his hands. A tag team of bigger, meaner looking ones had replaced the single Death Eater. Draco sighed. He really wanted to get in there and talk to Ginny but he didn’t see how it was possible.
He was still pretending that he didn’t know the Dark Lord’s plan. He tried to conceal the book from the Death Eaters as he marched to his room. He wasn’t sure they were bright enough to have mastered reading but one could never be too careful. He didn’t know what Voldemort would do if he found out that Draco knew his plan. Would they do something to him? Or worse, do something to Ginny and the baby? Draco didn’t want to scare them off. If they moved her from Malfoy Manor then he’d lose what little chance of contacting Ginny he had.
He stopped and listened. There were no sounds coming from her room. Good, he thought. Maybe she was finally getting some sleep. She needed the rest. He wondered if she was freaking out like he was. In a matter of a few weeks, his entire world had been turned upside down.
The morning after he finally remembered what happened, Draco couldn’t even bring himself to get out of bed. His mother believed he was sick and told everyone he had the flu. He wished that was all that was wrong with him. He couldn’t get over the look on his father’s face when he had done that spell. It was as if he had been turning toothpicks to needles or something completely mundane like that. It was just another day. Draco actually became physically ill when he thought about it.
But everyday he reported to breakfast, lunch and dinner without fail. He was not surprised to find that nothing had changed. They all carried on exactly as before. If there was one thing he had learned from his family, it was how to pretend that nothing was wrong even if the world was falling down around you. Someone outside watching them would never be able to tell the difference between the Draco who respected and admired his father and the Draco who hated his father with all his heart.
It made him curious as to what was going on behind his parents’ facades. Was Lucius planning to murder the both of them? Or was he really a good guy deep down and he was just doing what he thought was best for his family? Was Narcissa perfectly happy with just having things look nice on the outside? Or did she want to get the heck out of these walls as much as Draco did? Really, who could tell?
He couldn’t believe he had been fooled by them for so long; he had always fancied himself smart. When he was young he thought his parents were perfect. He imagined that their love was like it was in children’s storybooks. When they met each other the sun truly shown for the first time and angels of heaven (or somewhere else) came down to sing their chorus. Then little baby Draco had come along and he was just the apple of their eye, their ideal son.
The baby book fell open to a page that Narcissa had dog-eared. It was the story of a single mother dealing with her pregnancy alone. Had it been like that for her? Would it be like that for Ginny?
Inevitably, all thoughts on his parents led down the hall to Ginny. In his mind he pictured her tiny figure getting swollen up like she were nine months pregnant already, although according to the book the baby was probably only about the size of a grain of rice. He desperately wanted to see her, to ask her how she was doing and to see if there was anything he could help her with.
Mostly, he just wanted to know what was going on. Was she feeling all right? Did she blame him? Did she even know what had happened? He wanted to be more involved, not just some guy who knocked her up then handed her over to the Dark Lord. Basically, he wanted to be a better father than Lucius.
However, there wasn’t much he could do. Every day that passed, Draco realized there was something else he didn’t know. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know how pregnant she was. Conception could have happened any of the nights they were together and he wasn’t exactly sure how many of those there were. It had probably been several weeks.
The book wasn’t much help. It only served to frighten him by telling him absolutely every little thing that could possibly go wrong. For the first time in his life, he found himself wishing he were a Muggle because then the pictures wouldn’t move. He could’ve surely done without the dancing diagram of the ten-week-old fetus shouting ‘I can pee’ because its genitals had formed.
Every other page was lined with instructions and warnings that made Draco’s head spin. Worries flooded his mind like a tidal wave. What if something happened to Ginny? Or worse, what if something happened to the baby? There weren’t any mediwizards here and it wasn’t like they could take her to the nearest hospital. If there were a problem, there would be no one to help her.
Even more frightening than the possibility that something would go wrong was the chance that everything would go smoothly. Then, in a few short months there would be a tiny sack of flesh that did nothing but cry, eat and poop, needing constant supervision. As much as Draco wanted to be a good father, he knew there was a high probability that he would suck royally at it. Look who he had for a teacher.
Children made Draco nervous. Whenever someone handed him a baby he handed it back as soon as possible. He didn’t like kids. Heck, he didn’t like grown-ups. People in general were perhaps the most loathsome, vile creatures ever put on the face of the Earth as far as he was concerned. Every person he had ever met had something horribly wrong with them. They were full of themselves, stupid, ugly, dirty, whiny, sniveling, poorly bred, or made loud noises when they ate. And the kid would have to grow up with these people all around him.
He stayed up every night listening for sounds coming from Ginny’s room. He needed some hint as to what was going on with her. Mostly the nights were silent. Occasionally he could vaguely make out the sound that could only be her quiet sobs. He could see her in his mind’s eye, crouching on the ground between the large bed and the nightstand clutching her knees to her as the streams of tears found their way down her face.
He wanted so badly to go and say something that would make it better. But he knew even if he could get in to see her, there wouldn’t be anything that he could say. She had been ripped from her family, imprisoned in a strange place and forced to bear a child for the Dark Lord. Most people would probably have lost their minds by now. He wasn’t very good at comforting others anyway.
The mere thought of her tears made Draco want to cry with her and also rage against her captors. He wondered how those Death Eaters could just stand outside her door, listening to her moaning and not feel moved to do something. Were they such horrible people, so dead inside, that it didn’t bother them in the least?
It occurred to him that just a few months ago he would’ve done the same thing. If he had ever heard Ginny Weasley crying at Hogwarts, he would’ve ignored it. Or even more likely, he would’ve ridiculed her in an attempt to get her to cry some more. He had been happiest when a Weasley was crying.
He was a horrible person and he knew it. Pretty soon, he would have the dubious distinction of being a horrible father too.
* *
Draco rubbed his temples. The clock told him it was around 3 a.m. Ginny hadn’t made a peep tonight. He hoped everything was all right. His greatest fear was that something important would happen and he wouldn’t even know about it. Draco hated being so cut off but there weren’t really any other options. He could stay, and pretend to be a good boy as he had been doing or he could leave. Then he’d be shut off completely and that simply wouldn’t do.
He sighed and reread the passage. He didn’t understand it at all. Normally he’d blame it on the fact that nothing made proper sense at 3 a.m. but that wasn’t it. Things hadn’t made sense since he had come home. Perhaps he hadn’t quite wrapped his mind around what was going on. It was a lot to process. Add all the funny terms in the baby book and his brain had gone into complete meltdown. What was "Cephalopelvic disproportion" anyway?
A rustling in the dark hallway snapped him out of his thoughts. Who the hell would be up and around at this time of night?
There were voices. Draco leapt from the bed. He needed to get closer if he wanted to make them out. He pressed his ear against the door hoping that the thick wood wouldn’t muffle the sounds too much.
"...which room?" said the first voice Draco couldn’t place.
"The one at the end of the hall." He pushed his head closer to the wood. Were they talking about Ginny’s room?
"Not that one," said a third voice that he immediately knew as his father’s. "The library with the red oak door."
Draco’s heart sunk. That wasn’t Ginny’s room, it was across the hall and a few doors down. Still, he was curious. What were they doing there? The Death Eaters always met in Lucius’ study or the main ballroom. He waited for their voices to fade, then tentatively pushed the door open silently cursing it for squeaking.
He peaked his head out, looking both ways down the hall. No one was coming. Clothed only in his silk pajamas, Draco padded down the long corridor without a sound. He could sneak around Malfoy Manor like no one else could, but he could never be too careful. His bare feet unconsciously stopped in front of Ginny’s door. It wasn’t guarded anymore. He wanted to knock. He had so many questions.
He looked from Ginny’s door to the library door. He knew he couldn’t. They were too close. They’d hear him if he did anything. Silently, he resigned himself to the fact that now was not the time. It was foolish to try anything under their noses. Maybe the Death Eaters could answer some of his nagging questions. That was better than nothing.
The door to the library was left slightly ajar. Draco had to be careful that no one saw him standing outside, listening to their every word.
"I trust everything went smoothly, Lucius?" The voice cut through the night. It was softer than the others were but more sinister and high-pitched, almost like a woman. No, more like nails on a chalkboard. It made Draco shudder. He had never heard Lord Voldemort speak before. He sounded bored as if it were run-of-the-mill to do such Dark Magic. When Draco thought about it, he realized it probably was.
"Yes, Master." Draco flinched as his father murmured the words. He pictured him wearing the same statement he had that night in Draco’s room. Submissive, hallow, evil.
"Lucius performed an intricate spell beforehand on the girl," Voldemort announced to the other Death Eaters. A faint ripple of chatter swept across the room. Draco imagined them all hissing to one another wondering why Lucius had been the one the Dark Lord chose. They were silenced when the Dark Lord spoke again. "It will ensure that my heir is born with powers comparable to my own. He will be a great addition to our Cause. I suspect Dumbledore and his Muggle loving followers won’t stand much a chance against us once he has risen to full strength."
Draco scoffed. He had never had much respect for Dumbledore, none in fact, but he knew that once people went around saying things like "they won’t stand a chance against us now!" a painful death was usually not far off.
"Unfortunately," Voldemort continued, "that will take time. I have waited over a decade for this; a few more years will not matter. However, we need to protect ourselves these coming years."
The Death Eaters sounded their assent. Some nodded. Others clapped. Draco rolled his eyes.
"I lost many faithful followers in the years I was without my body and since this war began we have only lost more. Our numbers are dwindling."
The hooded men began to cry out promises. They had children, nephews, brothers, and cousins who would join Voldemort’s ranks. They heard that so-and-so was thinking of joining the Cause. They all reminded Draco of the way the house elves ran around to find anything for Draco to eat when he was hungry. Lucius Malfoy was noticeably silent.
"Lucius..." the Dark Lord hissed.
"Of course, my Lord," he sputtered. "The entire Malfoy family is at your service."
Draco felt like being sick right there on the shiny, marble floor. Was dear old dad about to sign him up for more extracurricular activities?
"Good," said Voldemort seemingly pleased. He spoke louder so the other Death Eaters could hear. "Let it be known that we are now recruiting new purebloods to take the Dark Mark. I expect you all to bring new Death Eaters to me." His voice got colder, if that were possible. "Be warned, the Resistance will try to infiltrate us with spies," he paused. Draco assumed he was glancing suspiciously around the room. "This cannot occur. Anyone who brings a spy into the fold will be killed."
They collectively breathed in sharply.
"I’ll tell Draco," Lucius assured Voldemort who chuckled mirthlessly.
"No need. He’s right outside the door."
Draco’s stomach fell into the floor. Had he been that obvious? How long had Voldemort known? Suddenly, the door in front of him swung open revealing Draco’s father. He was not pleased.
"Draco!" he barked ashamed that his son was eavesdropping on his personal conversations and worst of all, hiding in the shadows like some common criminal.
For the first time, Draco got a good look at the people in the room. He had never seen Voldemort up close before. The man was hideous. He couldn’t imagine what kind of hatred would drive a person to do magic that would make himself look that way. He tried not to look too repulsed when the Dark Lord stepped nearer to him. Pretend this is the greatest moment of your life, he instructed himself. Evil boys and girls could only dream of the day they would stand before Lord Voldemort and tell him that they would serve him loyally. Draco knew this because he had been one of those poor, deluded fools.
He tried not to focus on the disgusting, snakelike face. He looked away pretending it was a sign of respect. He recognized some of the faces that dotted the room. Crabbe and Goyle’s fathers were standing in the back looking just as vacant as their sons. The executioner, MacNair was idly leaning against the stacks. None of this surprised him. He had suspected they were Death Eaters all along. But the man standing directly behind Lucius did give Draco a start.
The dark eyes of Severus Snape stared back at him. The thought that his former Professor had been in league with Voldemort had never crossed his mind. He had always thought Snape was a good man. He was a mean and nasty man, sure, but that had nothing to do with whose side of the war you were on. His father put on a polite, respectable face to the world, and look what he was. Snape was a trusted friend of Dumbledore and a Professor at Hogwarts. Draco had never known the old coot to be so wrong about someone.
Snape’s face twisted in a way Draco had never seen it before. Then he shook his head and looked away seemingly unable to stand the sight before him. Draco couldn’t make out the emotions playing across his teacher’s face. Was that shame? Fear? Pity? But somehow, whatever the emotion was, it made Draco feel ten times worse than all of Lucius’ yelling could ever hope to. He wished now that he had just stayed in his room.
"Draco! What are you...?!?" Lucius began only to have Voldemort cut him off.
"Curiosity is not a sin, Lucius." He even seemed impressed that Draco was sneaky enough to get pass the Death Eaters. He turned and addressed Draco. "Do you know what we were discussing, Draco?"
"Yes," he stammered concentrating on not being frightened. "You want new Death Eaters."
The Dark Lord nodded. "Before that, boy."
Draco tried not to react to being called ‘boy.’ He hated that but he couldn’t let them know. "You were talking about the baby."
Voldemort smiled sadistically. "So you know of the plan to give me an heir?"
Draco nodded. There was not point in concealing the truth.
"Figured it out on your own have you?" Again, Draco nodded. Instead of being angry, as Draco had thought he’d be, the Dark Lord seemed pleased. "You’re a smart boy, Draco. You’ll be a worthy addition to the cause. I trust you’re ready to accept the Dark Mark."
"Yes," Draco said dully, trying to pretend he wanted nothing more than to have a repugnant snake burned into his forearm.
Voldemort smiled, if that were possible with his face. "Good, good." He stroked his chin thoughtfully. "You would have it done this very evening?"
Draco panicked. Of course he didn’t want to have it done at all but if he refused the Dark Lord then Lucius would kick him out. And if Lucius kicked him out he would surely never see his child. "Yes," he said again his voice wavering audibly.
In front of him, Lucius beamed proudly. The Dark Lord wanted his son to join their ranks! Snape scowled darkly and turned away. He couldn’t take this anymore.
"It won’t be done tonight," Voldemort said simply. Relieved, Draco let out a breath he hadn’t known he had been holding. "I wish to wait until my heir is born. You will both be branded in the same ceremony. It will be a symbolic gesture. You, the boy’s biological father will hand him over to me, his true father."
Draco forced a smile. He wanted to shout that he would never give his baby over to Voldemort. But then his gray eyes met with Snape’s calm black ones, and somehow he managed to restrain himself. He gritted his teeth. He would be composed like his teacher was if it killed him.
"As you wish," he stated emotionlessly never taking his eyes of Snape.
"It’s settled then," replied Voldemort obliviously. "You will be seeing much more of me in the future, Draco." A chill ran throughout Draco’s entire body. That was the last thing he wanted.
Voldemort’s voice had a note of finality that made the Death Eaters disapparate with sudden ‘pops.’ They asked no questions nor said another word. They just left as if he had commanded it. Only Snape offered Draco a strange, half smile-half grimace then disappeared. Finally with a slight nod of his head to his future Death Eater, Voldemort too disapparated from the room leaving Lucius and his son alone.
His father looked down upon his son, light shining in his eyes. Draco never recalled his father ever being proud of him before. When he had become Seeker for Slytherin, Lucius had threatened to take his broom away if he didn’t beat Harry Potter. When he had been named Head Boy, he was angry that Hermione Granger still beat him at every exam. He hadn’t even bothered to come to his Hogwarts’ graduation because of something Voldemort had asked him to do.
It was a true testament to the character of Lucius Malfoy that he was near tears over the worst moment of Draco’s life. "Well this is a happy day," he declared joyously.
Draco had never wanted to hit someone so badly in his entire life.
* *
The next day, Draco was informed that he was now to be a part of all the Death Eater’s hair-brained schemes. They let him in on all their secrets and showed him all the gruesome things they were doing in other wings of the house. The first thing he found out was that they were once again plotting the death of Harry Potter.
It was particularly elaborate plan. Even though they had failed every year Draco could remember, the Death Eaters were not discouraged. It seemed that every time they failed to kill the Boy Who Lived, they just thought up a more complex and ridiculous way to do it next time. Then they wondered why it never worked. Draco couldn’t help but laugh at them. (Which his father didn’t approve of at all.) It was one of the few things that had made him laugh since the whole thing started. They were just that pathetic. They would’ve made millions if they formed their own comedy troupe.
He wouldn’t call Harry a friend, in fact ‘bitter enemies’ was more like it. He had wished Potter dead more times than he could count. Sometimes, he had even tried to do the job himself. Still, he found comfort in the idea that Scarface was safe. Ginny wouldn’t want him to die.
No matter how devoted he acted or how much he sucked up, Draco still wasn’t allowed anywhere near Ginny’s room. The closest he ever got was in his room at night. He tried not to let it get him down. He was sure he’d be able to get in there one day, he just wasn’t sure how he’d do it. The plotting took up a great deal of his time. He had many ideas but none of them were plausible.
He often pretended to be sick or tired so he could return to his room. He’d wile away the midnight hours with nothing but his wand illuminated as he read his book over and over again. He found far more joy in listening for sounds coming from Ginny’s room than he did doing pony tricks for his parents. He was sorely tempted to just stop getting out of bed in the morning. He could hex himself or something, then they wouldn’t be curious.
Ginny was now nearing the end of her first trimester. The book said that the second trimester was usually the easiest on the expectant mother.
"The beginning of the second trimester usually marks a decrease in pregnancy hormones. This should result in less mood swings and crankiness," he read aloud one night.
At that exact moment there was a loud pounding. She was trying to beat the door down. "You bastards! Let me out of here!" Ginny shrieked at the top of her lungs. "Argh!" she yelled in frustration. Then there was a loud crashing noise that could only be a heavy piece of furniture shattering as it was hurled at the heavy door.
"Thank God for that," Draco muttered wryly as he heard the Death Eater enter her room in an attempt to shut her up. He hoped she had another piece of furniture for him or at least got a good kick in.
* *
The hot summer months soon yielded to the barren winter ones. Thankfully, the Death Eaters shelved most of their plans until the weather was better. It snowed more than Draco ever remembered it. Narcissa was struck with a dreadful bought of the flu. She had to be bundled up and waited on constantly. She demanded the most ridiculous things and insisted they were critical to her healing process. Draco was a bit concerned about his mother, but the whole ordeal made him worry about Ginny more. He hoped she and the baby were comfortable in the drafty mansion. She wouldn’t have the same luxuries Narcissa did if she got sick.
At Christmastime he went scouring Diagon Alley for presents that his mother would approve of with his father. Last year she had reamed them for just sending the house elves to buy her gifts. She said it wasn’t in the "Christmas spirit" but still wouldn’t allow them to take anything expensive back to the store. So this year Draco and Lucius, regretfully, had to spend the whole day shopping together. Lucius glared disdainfully at the people who jostled him as they rushed up and down the street.
"Commoners," he spat.
He didn’t approve of any of the shops either. All the items were "tacky" or "ordinary."
Draco glanced around at all the other families. They were all capable of performing such a simple task. Why couldn’t Lucius just be civil for once? He sighed regretfully. He should’ve just left his father in Knockturn Alley. For a few glorious moments he had an easy time shopping when Nott showed up and engaged Lucius in conversation.
He clutched his bag protectively. He had even managed to buy a gift for the baby without Lucius seeing. He realized that the baby wasn’t due for four more months but he couldn’t help himself. It was just a tiny gift, a fuzzy blanket to keep the baby warm after it was born. He had even resisted buying the ridiculously expensive one that claimed to be woven with hairs from a unicorn. Draco had doubts about its authenticity, besides his was just as good. It was creamy white with blue embroidery and no helpless magical creatures had to have their manes ripped out of their heads to make it.
"Are you done yet?" Lucius asked irritably. Before Draco could answer he made a sound like he had just discovered that he had stepped in something displeasing. "Ugh." He lifted his nose into the hair haughtily. "It’s that Weasely woman."
Draco spun around eagerly to look. Sure enough, Molly Weasley was ambling down the street with tons of boxes shoved underneath her arms. Her face was downcast. The people lining the streets (besides Lucius) looked at her with pity and whispered about her missing daughter. He had only seen her briefly when getting on in off the train to Hogwarts, but she had always looked happy to Draco. There was none of that now. She looked worn out and sleep deprived. The Christmas cheer bubbling up from the surrounding stores seemed to have no effect on her. She was clearly just going through the motions not really "celebrating" Christmas.
Narcissa’s words rung in his head. "I was just thinking how horrible it would be to lose your child."
He wanted to run over to her - to say something so she’d know that Ginny was alive, that she was about to be a grandmother, or at least to help carry her bags. But Lucius was disgusted by the display.
"She should be happy," he said bitterly, "now she’s got one less kid she can’t afford." He grabbed Draco roughly by the arm. "Let’s go," he said with a note of finality in his voice. "I can’t stand being around these peasants anymore."
As Lucius hustled him toward the Leaky Cauldron, Draco looked over his should to get a last glance of Mrs. Weasley. She had dropped all her bags and was hastily picking them up but every time she piled one into her arms another one would drop. She was flustered and completely embarrassed when the boxes opened up spilling their contents all over the street.
No one made any move to help her pick the cheap presents up. And it wasn’t for lack of noticing her. He even heard one woman comment that most of the gifts were second hand. The woman with her laughed. Draco guessed their pity for Molly losing Ginny didn’t extend to actually lifting a hand to help her.
Draco craned his neck to see her until the door to the Leaky Cauldron slammed shut behind him. Last he saw, a man in expensive, black robes had stepped on one of the of the presents crushing its box and destroying whatever had been inside with a loud shattering sound. Draco never heard him apologize.
* *
In January when Ginny was beginning her third trimester, Draco spotted an article in the Daily Prophet that caught his eye. It was about Ginny. He looked up furtively to make sure his father and mother weren’t looking. They were engaged with a house elf who had burned breakfast. He folded the paper over and scanned the article.
DISAPPEARANCE SOLVED BY MINISTRY
LONDON - The Ministry of Magic announced yesterday that it has closed the investigation into the disappearance of Ginny Weasley. As reported months ago in the Daily Prophet, Miss Weasley, 18, vanished from King’s Cross Station in June while returning from her last year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy.
"We are pleased to have finally solved this case," said Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. "It was very troubling for all involved. We can only hope that we have brought some relief to the grieving Weasley family."
The missing girl was the only daughter of Ministry Official Arthur Weasley.
"It came as a great shock to us. We really didn’t want to believe it was possible," said the Minister shaking his head sadly when asked about his reaction to when a team of highly trained Ministry detectives delivered the news. After thorough investigation it was determined that Miss Weasley fell from the platform at King’s Cross only to be tragically run over by the Hogwarts Express.
When asked what the Minister planned to do to avoid future accidents he responded gravely, "I’m afraid there’s not much we can do, the train belongs to Hogwarts. We have asked Headmaster Dumbledore to replace the death trap but he refuses to comply."
"No, I do not plan to get rid of the Hogwarts Express," said Dumbledore via owl. "I am still not convinced that it was the cause of Miss Weasley’s disappearance. After all, when someone is run over by a train there is usually a body found afterward."
The Minister refutes Dumbledore’s position calling it "Poppycock! Of course she was run over by the train. Dumbledore just refuses to see facts."
The Weasley family refused to officially comment on the Ministry’s findings. However the Daily Prophet managed to hear Arthur Weasley calling the matter "Ridiculous!" as he left his Ministry office early yesterday.
Obviously, Mr. Weasley shares the Ministry and the Daily Prophet’s view that Dumbledore should get rid of that monstrous train.
Draco shook his head gravely. He had never had great faith in the Ministry’s competence but this took the cake. They obviously felt that since they hadn’t been able to solve the case, the next logical thing to do was blame Dumbledore. That put to rest any futile hope of the Aurors coming to rescue Ginny.
If Ginny was ever to be freed then there were only two people for Draco to pin his hopes on. The first was Dumbledore, who Draco had despised and ridiculed for the better part of his life. Even more frightening, the other was Draco himself. He was the only one who knew where Ginny was and what they had done to her. Although he couldn’t see himself ever rescuing her as he still hadn’t even managed to make contact with her. Besides, he wasn’t the brave knight riding the white horse type.
"Draco?" Narcissa called, pulling him abruptly from his thoughts. "Draco, sweetie, are you all right?"
"Hm?" He looked up startled to find her staring at him with a concerned statement on her face. He looked around. Lucius was gone. "Where’s Father?"
"He left," she said simply as if he should’ve know that already. She got even more worried. Was he having blackouts?
He scowled. "Typical." Not hearing what he said, Narcissa came over to him and put her hand on his forehead. "Mum!" he cried as he jerked his head away from her.
"Are you sick?" she asked in a motherly tone. "You look pale. Have some orange juice." She pushed a glass toward him as if that would solve all his problems.
"Mum! I’m fine," he protested as he took the glass.
She looked at him skeptically and sighed. "Ever since you got home, I don’t know what it is...you just don’t seem like my little boy anymore."
He avoided her gaze. "I’m not your little boy anymore," he said sullenly.
She made a disapproving noise. "Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll always be my little boy." He looked up at her to find her smiling at him. He couldn’t help but smile back. "Unless of course you’re arrested," she said thoughtfully. "Then you’re ‘Steve’ and don’t know anyone named Malfoy."
Draco laughed spitting orange juice across the table.
* *
Draco started having trouble sleeping at the end of February. Ginny was due in mid March. What if she went into labor early? Would the baby still be all right? What if something had already happened and he just didn’t know about it. He thought he was going to develop an ulcer from worrying or maybe gray hair, not that it’d make much of a difference with his silvery hair.
He was constantly listening for anything that could give him clues as to what was going on. Mostly he tried to get news on Ginny, but he also collected anything he could on the Death Eaters’ plans. He felt like a spectator in his own home, unable to do anything but watch, wait and listen.
One particularly gloomy evening was supposed to be the attack on Harry Potter’s life. Thankfully, the Death Eaters didn’t yet trust Draco enough to involve him. Lucius had also pointed out that Harry might recognize Draco’s voice since they had been at Hogwarts together. So the Dark Lord was satisfied in leaving Draco behind. No one was more thrilled about it than Draco himself. As the night progressed, he would only get happier and happier about being left behind.
Around 4 a.m. a loud commotion cut through the silence. It sounded like a million people running through the house screaming. Draco had been half-asleep but sat straight up in bed when he heard the noise. The first thing that entered his head was Ginny. He had heard yelling. His pulse began to race with fear he had never known before.
His heart finally started beating at a reasonable pace when he realized the sound hadn’t come from Ginny’s end of the hall. All was well down that direction. It seemed to have been below Draco. The lower level of the manor was being used as home base for the Death Eaters. Then it hit him: the attack. Something must have gone wrong. He couldn’t say he was surprised.
He jumped from the bed and pressed his ear against the door. There were faint voices crying out in the distance.
"What happened?" shouted a voice he couldn’t identify.
"They knew we were coming!" That one was vaguely familiar. It took a moment for Draco to place it. It was MacNair.
"Who’d they get?" the first Death Eater asked.
MacNair listed about a half dozen names. The other cursed. "Dead or alive?" he asked.
"Alive," said MacNair. "But not for long." His last statement hung ominously in the air. Draco knew what came next. It was another thing that separated Draco from the Death Eaters. They were all comfortable with it. He wasn’t.
The Ministry of Magic had ways of making Death Eaters talk. Things that made Draco’s skin crawl. But the Dark Lord had an even better way of keeping that from happening. It was routine. In a few minutes, more Death Eaters would be sent in. They’d get as close as they could without revealing themselves. Then they would use the Killing Curse on everything that moved. Such was war.
Draco hung his head. He hoped Dumbledore was ready for it. The Resistance agents had to get out of there if they didn’t want to be caught in the crossfire. None of the Death Eaters would be sad to see a few Ministry blokes go. Even Harry Potter could deflect only so many Killing Curses. As for the Death Eaters who were about to die, he couldn’t get himself to care too much. All Draco could think was that his mother would be glad there were fewer people in and out of her home. They left stains on the carpet.
Footsteps pounded against the floor. The sound reverberated in the empty rooms. Draco peered out from his keyhole to see what was going on. Every Death Eater they could find was being called to do damage control. A blur of black robes shot past his door. He paused. That was curious. The only Death Eater down that end of the hallway was...
He jerked the door open forcefully. The hallway was empty. Ginny’s door was unguarded.
He could hear the blood pumping in his ears. He cautiously took a step forward not willing to believe his good fortune. His whole body was shaking with fear and anticipation. He looked left and right. There really was no one.
No one to stop him. With that thought, his fear left him. He rushed forward. There was no time to waste. This was his chance! All the things he wanted to say and do flooded his mind.
"Ginny!" he cried before he even reached the door. "Ginny!" He pounded his fist furiously on the heavy wood. "Alohomora!" he barked but nothing happened. "Alohomora!" he said again more desperately. He cursed loudly. "How do you get this damn thing open?"
A quiet voice stopped all his anger. Suddenly he couldn’t think at all. It echoed in his mind and in his heart. "Like they’re going to tell me," she scoffed.
"Ginny," he breathed. He had a million things he wanted to say to her but all of them had left his mind when she spoke.
"Draco?" she asked incredulously.
He nodded then realized she couldn’t see him through the thick door. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "It’s me."
"What’s happening?" she asked in a scared voice.
"There was an attack. A lot of Death Eaters got captured..." he explained all the while thinking to himself that there were more important things to discuss but not being able to vocalize any of his thoughts.
She gasped. "Was anyone hurt?" she asked. She sounded like she was shaking with worry.
He wondered why she cared about the Death Eaters before he realized what she meant. Her family was a large part of the Resistance. She hadn’t seen them in nine months. She must have been going out of her head not knowing what was going on with them. "They’re fine, Ginny," he assured her.
He heard her whimper and knew that she was crying. He wished he could think of something more comforting to say but he had never comforted a girl when she was crying before. He always just walked away because he didn’t care. Now he did and it was killing him.
"Ginny, how are you? How’s the baby?" he asked in a soft voice.
She sniffed trying to stop the crying. He knew she didn’t want to show weakness. "I’m fine," she said indignantly. "Why do you care?"
"Ginny..." he began hurt by her coldness. Didn’t she know he wanted to help? "I’m the father."
As the words left his mouth he felt a great swelling in his heart. That was the first time he had ever said it aloud. I’m the father, he repeated over and over in his head. I’m going to be a father.
She snorted. "I know that," she spat, highly affronted that he was implying she didn’t know who the father of her baby was.
He opened his mouth to say something back to her, to let her know that he wanted to be a real father not just a sperm donor. He wanted to tell her that he was worried about her and that he was staying just for her. Most of all, he wanted her to know that he hadn’t been part of the plan. He wasn’t evil like his father; he had been used like her.
But the words never left his lips.
There was more shouting from the lower level. It was no longer disjointed voices yelling for help. It was one dark mixture of hissing and screaming at the others for their incompetence. The fear gripped him again. It was Voldemort.
"You better go," she whispered with the same level of fear in her own voice.
"Ginny, but I," he protested looking back at the open door of his room. How much time did he have to get back there without getting caught?
"Go!" she hissed. She would get in just as much trouble as he would. He had to leave. She shouldn’t be upset this close to the delivery. But there were so many things he hadn’t told her yet. "Please."
“I’m sorry," he said. He was sorry he was such a coward, that he ran back to his room and hid under the covers. He was sorry that he had hurt her. He was sorry that she was going through so much. He was sorry he couldn’t do more to help. Most of all he was sorry that he couldn’t express how much she and the baby meant to him and that if she ever really needed him he wouldn’t run.
*
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