Chapter 12: The Unexpected Knight
“You have to go back there,” Crabbe called, as he rushed to follow his friend, who was storming away. Draco halted abruptly in his tracks, stopping and turning around to face the two that had followed him so quickly that they nearly ran into him. His face was impassive as stone. “You know you have to go back there, right?”
“I don’t think I do,” Draco answered coolly.
“You’ve just fed the girl to the wolves – your wolves, I might add. The least you could do is listen to her explanation,” Goyle said exasperatedly, blocking off Draco’s path as he tried to walk away from his two friends.
“I don’t see any reason why I should. Besides, why do you care about it?” Draco demanded angrily. The fuse of his temper had already been lit; they could tell that it was just waiting to blow, and neither wanted to be the catalyst that set it off. But they were friends, and because of that friendship, they had certain rights. They were among the very few who were allowed to challenge him when his stubborn mind wouldn’t listen to reason.
“Because you yelled at us,” Crabbe answered immediately. “You yelled at us because of her, for teasing her about being seen with another guy. You jumped up and defended her honour and you yelled at us. And now you won’t give her a chance?”
“Doesn’t seem right, that’s all. You owe it to us to go and talk to her. Besides, are you mental? This is Pansy Parkinson we’re talking about here. She created that first round of photos, the one from that party, and they were complete bollocks – why should this time be any different? I thought you’d be smarter than to fall into one of her pathetic schemes,” Goyle added slyly, shooting Crabbe a knowing look. When in doubt, challenge his pride.
“Enough!” Draco shouted furiously, before storming off. Crabbe and Goyle watched in dismayed silence as he marched away. They looked at each other and shrugged, more used to their friend’s self-destructive behaviour than they cared to admit.
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Ginny stood up shakily, trying to brush off the snow that had caked into the folds of her skirt, and looked around her warily. It was times like this that when she was truly grateful she grew up in a chaotic household, where she was far more than out-numbered by all her brothers who enjoyed teasing their only sister every opportunity they had. Reacting more instinctively than anything, Ginny had cast a few well-aimed Bat Bogey Hexes, and the rest of the crowd had backed off almost immediately as her victims shrieked from the curses’ effects. After that, they’d satisfied their need for bullying with a few rounds of snowball attacks before her frantic hexing sucked all the fun out of it.
And now, she was all alone in the middle of that icy field, her left eye throbbing from where that first snowball had struck, along with a few other welts from being pelted. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly while combating the urge to just sink back down in the snow. She didn’t know what to do next; she didn’t know where to go or who she should talk to. She didn’t even know if it was safe to go anywhere – every student at the school was her enemy. Once again.
“Why wouldn’t he just listen to me?” she muttered pitifully to herself, as she bent down to gather her bag, which had been dropped and disregarded as the newest crisis in her life had begun.
“Ginny! Are you alright?” she heard an anxious voice call out. Claire was running towards her, prancing gingerly through the snowy patches on the grass as she made her way towards her friend. “I heard about what happened from some of the other Ravenclaws!”
“Oh, I’m just peachy,” Ginny laughed bitterly. Claire knelt down in front of her, examining her face, grimacing as she spotted the swelling around her left eye. “Can’t you tell just by looking at me?”
“You’re bleeding!” Claire cried, reaching out tentatively to Ginny’s face. Ginny flinched, ducking away, her face stinging already from the snow ball. “Oh, what are you going to do about this? What actually happened? Are those photos for real?”
“I don’t know,” Ginny said softly, a far-off look in her eye. She shuddered as the memory of that morning crossed her mind, and then forced herself to stand up, brushing away the snow clinging to her clothing. “But you can be sure that I’m going to find out.”
“What did Malfoy say about it?” Claire asked seriously. Ginny let out a sound of frustration.
“Nothing. The arrogant git just walked away, he wouldn’t even listen to my explanation. Besides, it has nothing to do with him anyway,” Ginny stated angrily. Then she sighed, her emotions bouncing back and forth between anger and despair. “Why wouldn’t he just listen to me?”
“You mean, there is an explanation for how you ended up in bed with someone else?” his voice called out. Freezing on the spot, her heart leaping into her throat, Ginny turned around slowly and felt as if a million butterflies were released into her stomach as she saw Draco Malfoy, glaring at her stone-facedly, standing a few feet away from her, his arms crossed in front of him confrontationally. “An explanation that would make all of this a giant misunderstanding?”
“Of course there’s an explanation, but you walked away so you don’t get to hear it anymore. I don’t give second chances,” Ginny cried defensively.
“What a coincidence, neither do I. You betray me once, and I never let you do it again,” he said accusatorily.
“Betray you? I betrayed you? You’re the one who just finished spouting all that bollocks this afternoon about how you ‘look after you own’ and yet, the very first change you have to prove if you’re actually sincere about it, you turn and run away!” Ginny shouted, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she struggled to maintain a grip on her emotions. Malfoy flinched slightly as she shouted, and looked away from her. “You’re nothing but a coward, Draco Malfoy!”
“Ginny! Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair to Draco here?” Claire asked, her voice sounding shocked. Ginny looked at her friend in confusion. Unfair? He was the one who had turned around and walked away, after making such a big fuss about her being “his” and taking care of his own, even if “they” didn’t like it. “You’re his girlfriend, what is he supposed to think when he sees this kind of picture? It’s only natural to need time before wanting to listen to your explanation.”
“I’m not his girlfriend!” Ginny snapped, while staring at Claire as if she’d never met the girl before. After everything that Malfoy had put Claire through, just for the indiscretion of speaking to Ginny while she’d been given a Howler, Claire was taking his side?
“You should tell him your side of the story. I mean, he came here to hear it, didn’t he?” Claire said, her voice quietly authoritative. Ginny watched as the tall, blond girl bent down into the show, and picked up one of the discarded photographs, now streaked from the snow. As Ginny took in the distorted image of her and the unnamed stranger, she felt another wave of nausea threatening. Ginny gaped at her friend, all the while feeling horribly betrayed, as she had walked towards Malfoy, putting her hand on his arm in a show of solidarity. Malfoy just glared at her and nonchalantly shrugged her hand away. "Think about it from his perspective - all he sees are these photos, and they ARE rather incriminating. That IS you in the photo and it does look like you are with someone else. Another boy. How did you happen to be in this picture? What happened that night?”
Ginny was barely paying attention to what she was saying. She was too busy staring at Malfoy, who was looking anywhere but at her. She could see his eyes flick towards her, but he refused to look at her, preferring to watch her out of the corner of his eye as he focused on the area above her shoulder. It made her furious - he was the one who was always watching her, always causing her to jump and get flustered every time she felt those ever-observant eyes on her ALL THE TIME, and now he was refusing to look at her? Suffering under the injustice of it all, situations that she had no control over, Ginny decided that she didn't care if he hated her, she didn't care if he never spoke to her again or if he sent all of his minions after her for her supposed betrayal, but dammit, he was going to look at her.
"I mean, Ginny... how could you do this to him?" Claire asked, her voice chastising. Ginny's head snapped away from Malfoy, and she turned to her friend, an expression of utter disbelief on her face as she felt something deep inside her break. She was tired; tired of being unable to rely on anyone, tired of being constantly disappointed when those she thought she could trust let her down, tired of the world she lived in and how deceptive and twisted it all was.
"By all means, of COURSE he's the victim here," Ginny cried, the echo of despair in her voice drawing Malfoy's eyes to her even as she looked away from him. "I'm the stupid, horrible girl who committed the terrible crime of going to a dance club with a group of friends, who doesn't know what happened that night or where those pictures came from."
"Ginny..." Claire said sadly. Ginny ignored her, taking a step forward. Malfoy was looking at her now, those grey eyes cold and unreadable as always, but they were looking at her now. She was blinking, trying not to cry, determined to say all that she had to say before her voice broke.
"I am sixteen years old and I woke up in a hotel room this morning, with no memory of how I got there, or any idea what happened. I've been hoping, every single second of this day, that I would wake up and that this would all be some kind of terrible nightmare and that the absolutely sick feeling," she said, her voice breaking. She paused, trying to swallow the large lump in her throat, taking a deep breath as she struggled to continue, "that this sick feeling of NOT KNOWING what happened would go away. But, by all means, HE is the victim here."
"That's your explanation?" he said, his voice low, his eyes unflinchingly locked on hers.
"Haven't you been listening? I don't HAVE an explanation. I'm sorry if your precious pride may have been hurt by all this, but it's nothing compared to the horror of not knowing if what you think happened really did happen or not," she cried, her voice adamant. "Let me tell you this. I am going to find out what happened and I don't care what you think about it because it has NOTHING to do with you. I need to know for the sake of my own sanity!"
Ignoring Claire's cries of sympathy, she carefully gathered her things and slowly walked away, feeling the weight of his eyes on her the entire time. Claire ran a few steps behind her, but gave up when she ignored her repeated calls. Turning back to face Malfoy, she just shrugged her shoulders hopelessly. Mafloy stared after her, seemingly lost in thought.
"Well, that settles that then," he said quietly, as if to himself. Then, with a start, as if he just realized that Claire was standing in front of him as if waiting further explanation, he shot her a cold look, before walking the in the opposite direction, followed by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Wait!" she cried, running after him.
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After wasting time in front of the mirror at home, trying to remember whatever charm Malfoy had used the day that he'd healed the laceration on her forehead after the incident with the Whomping Willow, Ginny had dashed off to the Three Broomsticks to meet Hermione. The left side of her face, particularly underneath her eye, was a lovely shade of redish-purple, and she had a giant scrape down her cheekbone and nothing she had tried would make it appear any less apparent. She would just have to make sure Rosmerta didn't see her - she could just hear her mother's reaction to hearing about this, because there was no way Rosmerta wouldn't contact her immediately. It would be bad enough dealing with Hermione.
But she needed her. Hermione, that is. Because, while Hermione could lash out with her temper and act according to her emotions instead of reason, she was still the most rational and cautious person Ginny had ever met. She could think clearly in a crisis, could formulate plans and solutions when everyone else was still caught up in being emotional and most importantly, she was analytical. She could analyze situations and see connections that others would overlook. Clutching one of the crumpled photos she'd taken with her that afternoon in her hand, Ginny planned on using Hermione's intellect to help her figure this whole thing out. That is, so long as she didn't expire from the lengthy, slightly hysterical lecture she was bound to get first. The one problem with seeking Hermione's help was that she'd have to tell her friend what had happened, how stupid she'd been, and that would undoubtedly lead to demands that she inform her parents.
"Well, I guess my first questions would be, who on earth took these photos to begin with?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined the photo Ginny had handed her. Still feeling slightly stunned over the lack of lecturing or rebuking she'd received, Ginny felt a surge of affection for her best friend. When she'd greeted her as she was leaving the restaurant at the end of her shift, Hermione had taken one look at her face, grabbed her hand and led her away from the restaurant. After she'd worriedly demanded to know if Ginny was alright, she sat back and listened quietly as Ginny explained the whole sordid mess. As soon as she'd finished speaking, Hermione had just said, "Well, this is obviously just a bunch of rubbish. Let me see that photo." Remembering how earlier that day, Ginny had felt hopeless over the fact that it seemed like there was no one she could count on, and wondered how she could have possibly overlooked the frightfully dependable Hermione.
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, leaning forward, trying to see what it was in the photo that Hermione was fixated on. Hermione looked up, her eyes shining with discovery.
"Well, there's the two of you in the photo, which means that there was a third person in the room, the person who took it. That means there's someone out there who knew what was going on, someone else that was in the room," Hermione explained.
"But why would anyone want to take those photos to begin with? I mean, unless this is some sort of set-up." Hermione gave her a pointed look. "But why?"
"Is it common for wizards to use Muggle film? Every picture in the paper and everywhere I've seen in Hogsmeade always use moving wizards' pictures - even the paintings," Hermione commented.
"No, it's not..." Ginny said softly. She sighed heavily, dropping her head into her hands. "Because the film replicates not just your image but who you are and how you are reacting in the moment the picture is taken... if it was a wizards' picture, it would show my reaction, movement. Well, knowing me, you probably wouldn't be able to see me at all, because my image would try to get as far out of the frame as possible. There are very few people at my school who are even aware of Muggle pictures, beyond the simple knowledge that they don't move. They wouldn't have any idea how to get the film, how to get it developped, any of this. Certainly not any of the Slytherins – they wouldn’t ever want to touch something from Muggle origins, they think it would contaminate their very being."
"Who do you think is behind all of this? Because it seems to me that someone is definitely trying to set you up," Hermione said, her voice so full of certainty that the tight band of nausea that Ginny had been feeling since she'd woken up finally eased slightly. Hermione was an intelligent girl who was hardly ever wrong and this fact made Ginny all the more receptive to her certainty.
"My first thought would be Parkinson. After all, she is the one who passed them out to everyone, who confronted me and showed them to Malfoy," Ginny said grimly, remembering that incident with a shudder. The look in his eyes... she couldn't get it out of her head. She tried to shrug it off, needing to focus on the moment. "But it's not really her style. She's all bluster and bark, there's rarely any bite to her threats. Plus, the girl would rather die than be associated with anything Muggle-related."
"Who else does that leave, then?" Hermione prodded. Ginny shook her head, unable to think of who would want to do this to her. While she was well-aware that she was rather despised by most of the students at the school, she found it hard to believe that any of them would go this far - especially if it meant upsetting the mighty Draco Malfoy, who they were normally breaking their backs trying to please. Given the way they'd all flocked to her, seeking her approval, as soon as they thought she was going out with him, she found it hard to believe that any of them would be brave enough to try anything like this, and risk his wrath.
Of course, considering his wrath was aimed directly at Ginny, perhaps it was just a rather ingenious plan that had worked perfectly.
"I can't think of anyone. I don't think there's anyone out there who hates me enough to upset Malfoy like this." Hermione's head snapped up at this comment, and she looked at Ginny as if she'd just been struck with an epiphany. She jumped up, grabbing her robe as she moved towards the door.
"Ginny! The boy, the one you danced with - do you think this is him in the picture?" she asked quickly. Ginny looked down, biting her lip nervously before nodding.
"You can't see his face, but that's the only answer I've been able to come up with," she said, her face burning hot with shame. No matter how much of a 'set-up' this incident was appearing to be, confessing that she didn't know who was in the photograph with her was still embarrassing.
"You said his uncle owns All Hallows'. We're going there, to ask him some questions," Hermione stated, gesturing for Ginny to grab her robe. Ginny shot out of her hair.
"I don't want to go anywhere near him!" she cried.
"I understand, but he may be able to give us some answers, so we'll know what actually happened!" Hermione said. Ginny met her friend's eyes with her words still ringing in her ears and nearly burst into tears. Hermione had said "us" and not "you" and with that simple sentence, had told her that they were now in this together, and that it wasn't just Ginny's problem anymore. She had an ally, someone she could depend on. Shaking off the memory that this wasn't the first time that day she'd felt that way only to be proven wrong, Ginny nodded and gathered her things.
"You just have to promise you'll keep me from cursing him. Or, that you'll help me curse him, I haven't decided which yet," she mumbled, as they headed out the door.
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"Why are you following me?" Draco snapped viciously, as he stopped and turned suddenly, causing Claire to almost run into him. Flustered, she began to stutter nervously as she attempted to explain herself, hardly able to meet the furious pair of eyes bearing down on her.
"I just thought that... with what Ginny said... maybe you'd want to find out for yourself?" she stammered. Looking up, she drew a deep breath and tried to speak confidently. "I mean, she doesn't know what happened, but someone out there has to. What about the other person in the photo, what about the staff at the bar or the hotel? Someone must have seen them... I think it's the only way to know one way or the other, and like Ginny said, for the sake of your sanity!"
"You're her friend, aren't you? Why aren't you following her?" he snapped. Staring at the blond girl in front of him who was cringing at his words, he sighed in exasperation. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, not deflecting the attentions of a weak, terrified girl with a flawed sense of loyalty.
"I just want to help somehow. Ginny took off on a rampage, and with the way that she is, it's hard to think of her as actually needing help. She wouldn't accept it anyway. She could take on the whole world single-handedly if she had to," Claire said, looking down at the ground as she fidgeted, before glancing back up at Draco, her eyes hopeful. "That's probably what you like about her, after all, but it can be rather frustrating just standing on the sidelines, unable to do anything... and you just looked like you were going to... do something."
"What exactly do you think I would do in this situation?" he asked coolly. Claire visibly paled and looked about her wildly, as if expecting the answer to appear out of thin air.
"Well... I've heard the stories... about what happened with your last girlfriend and what you did to the boy she was cheating on you with..." Claire trailed off uncertainly, sensing a dangerous feeling in the air.
"You mean the inherently foolish piece of trash who actually tried to take what was mine while laughing at me behind my back? The one who is now a permanent resident in Saint Mungo's, a fitting punishment for daring to take what was mine? Is that what you are referring to?" he asked tersely, his eyes dark and dangerous. Claire almost buckled under the weight of his glare and backed away. "This situation is completely different."
"Really?" she asked, her face brightening, striking an odd note with Draco as he watched her. "How is this different? I mean, I'm glad you see it that way, for Ginny's sake, but... to me, it seems as if it's the same."
"Remind again me why you've followed me," Draco ordered, frowning suspiciously.
"I told you, I'm just trying to help," Claire exclaimed defensively.
"Then do your friend a favour and keep your mouth shut," he said angrily. It was hard enough keeping a grip on his anger - his desire to just destroy something, anything - with the image of her with someone else floating around in his head. Her reminding him of that incident and comparing it to this one certainly wasn't very helpful. The very thought of it made his blood begin to boil. "And stop following me."
"I think I know where that picture was taken!" Claire cried as he started to rush away. "We can go there, and ask a few questions, find out if anyone saw them. At the very least, you might get a name to put with the other person in the picture."
He stopped, a breathless moment of suspense for Claire as she wondered what he would do. When he turned back around, she smiled in relief. It had worked.
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Hogsmeade was a city where the rich and powerful ruled supreme. As they demanded that their every whim and unreasonable demand was met, they unknowingly created a network of those they looked down on. The bartenders, the waitresses, the servants; they all relied on each other, gossiped about the rich behind their backs and traded favours whenever possible. A union of sorts, bound together by their disdain for the ones who thought themselves superior. This was how Ginny and Hermione found themselves talking their way into All Hallows', joking with the servers who were setting up for what was promising to be a very busy Friday night.
“Oh, that Parkinson girl! You don’t need to say anything more about her!” Jeremy Morgan, a friend of her brother Charlie’s, was saying as he lugged a case of Butterbeer behind the bar. “She was a holy terror here the other night. If I remember correctly, I saw you giving her a hard time, young lady.”
“Yeah, Pansy and I don’t really see eye-to-eye on pretty much anything there is to disagree about. Did you see that guy confront her? I never caught his name, but he threatened to have security remove her and everything, it was beautiful!” Ginny exclaimed breezily, forcing herself to sound jovial and carefree.
“That was Justin. I sent him over there when I spotted the trouble. Gotta look out for Charlie’s kid sister, after all,” Jeremy said with a smile, ducking beneath the counter for a moment. Ginny closed her eyes, flinching against this new piece of information. Good intentions, why did they always seem to have such terrible consequences in her life? “He’s the boss’ nephew, so he doesn’t have to watch what he says to that harpy.”
“Well, thanks for the help! I could have taken her all by myself, but it’s nice to know I have someone looking out for me,” Ginny said, casting Hermione a pointed look to indicate that she was going in for the kill. “Hey, do you know where I can find Justin? I never got a chance to thank him for coming to the rescue.”
“Uh, yeah. I think he’s working tonight, he should be somewhere around here. Check out back, he’s probably doing some inventory. If anyone stops you, just tell them I said it was alright,” he said, with a teasing smile. “Never thought that the only Weasley girl, the little terror that ordered around her big brothers, would fall for all that chivalry nonsense.”
“I’m just going to say thank you,” Ginny said coyly, ignoring the stirrings of nausea in her stomach. She gestured to Hermione to follow her, waving goodbye to Jeremy. As they walked down the hallway, Hermione reached out and grabbed her hand, trying to comfort her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she whispered. Ginny sighed heavily, before squeezing her friend’s hand reassuringly.
“At this point, I don’t think I have a choice,” she said softly. “But thank you.”
They stepped out through the back door, and saw a group of guys standing around in a circle, talking loudly and laughing. Ginny felt a jolt run through her body when she saw the one from that night, Justin, standing with his back to them. Instinctually, she reached into her pocket, her fingers squeezing tightly around her wand. She inhaled deeply and prepared herself.
“Hey Justin!” she called out, summoning every ounce of her courage to keep her wand in her pocket. He turned around, still laughing at some comment his friends made, and froze when he saw her. It was only for a moment, but Ginny could see his surprise at seeing her there, before he quickly covered it with a smile she assumed was meant to be charming. It made her feel sick.
“Well, if it isn’t the redhead from last night. Why did you take off so suddenly this morning?” he asked, slinking towards her and Hermione with an infuriatingly arrogant swagger. Before she could think, her wand was out of her pocket, and she was cursing that idiot with his arrogant swagger with a full-body binding spell. He groaned, and fell backwards with a thud. His friends laughed in surprise, figuring it was some kind of joke and having sensed no danger from the petite redhead, they assumed it was just another angry ex-girlfriend.
“Ginny!” Hermione protested. Ginny ignored her, and marched forward with determination, kneeling down over Justin, whose eyes were darting back and forth furiously as he tried to figure out what had happened.
“I have put in a full-body binding curse. That’s why you can’t move,” she said coldly. “But there’s a bit of a fun twist on the curse I used, because I’m pretty much the only person who can end the spell, unless by some miracle the reincarnation of Dumbledore or someone similarly powerful comes along and is able to figure out how I cast it and can reverse it – which, let’s face it, that’s not bloody likely. I have a few questions to ask you, but I guess you already knew that.”
She pointed her wand at his face menacingly, feeling a delicious sense of power. For the first time in weeks, she was in control of a situation and that knowledge brought her nothing more than a blessed sensation of relief. His panicked eyes met hers, obviously thinking she was insane. She murmured a spell, releasing the curse’s hold on his mouth, allowing him to speak.
“Get away from me, you psychotic witch!” he screamed, causing his friends who were still hovering around, watching the scene, to howl with laughter.
“Careful what you say, or you’re going to lose your speaking privileges again,” Ginny said lightly, with a veiled threat in her voice.
Hermione bent down beside her, holding out one of the photos Ginny had brought with her.
“Who is the photographer?” Hermione asked. “That’s all we want to know, and she’ll let you go.”
“If you’re nice,” Ginny muttered darkly.
“Look, I just did what the girl paid me to do,” he exclaimed. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from standing up and placing a few well-aimed kicks to his ribcage.
“Yeah, you’re going to have to elaborate on that,” Ginny demanded viciously.
“Courtney – her name is Courtney. She’s a regular here, and she asked to help her get some photos that would cause a bit of a scandal, that’s all!” he cried. Ginny glanced at Hermione, sharing a similar hopeful thought that she barely dared to think.
“Just photos?” she demanded, her voice desperate. Justin met her eyes and looked away.
“Just photos. She had me slip something into your drink and bring you to the hotel so she could take the pictures. I didn’t ask why, she paid me enough to keep me from asking too many questions. I just thought it was some kind of girl-drama revenge plot or something,” he cried. Ginny stood up, needing to get away.
“Well, you’re a real stand-up guy, I hope you were paid handsomely to become a soulless cretin,” she said, disgusted. She started to walk away, hearing him protest that she hadn’t released him from the curse yet. She turned around, and in the same breath she cancelled the spell, she cast her patented Bat Bogey Hex, feeling a small sense of satisfaction as she heard him shriek in surprise.
She made it all the way around the corner and out of sight of her audience before she started running, running until she couldn’t anymore, collapsing to the ground in relief, half-sobbing and half-laughing. Just photos, he’d said. As horrible as that was, it was so much better than everything that she’d been so afraid of. The giant ball of fear and nausea that had been sitting in her stomach since she’d opened her eyes that morning was finally dissolving. Gasping for breath and feeling the telltale rush of saliva to her mouth, she crouched in the corner, and vomited.
By the time she had finished retching, Hermione had caught up to her, looking relieved to have found her. She knelt down beside her friend, hugging her tightly, sharing in her relief. Ginny smiled, a genuine smile, feeling empty of the demons she’d woken up with. She leaned back against the concrete wall behind her, breathing easily, closing her eyes and wanting nothing more than to sleep for weeks.
“Who is Courtney?” Hermione asked, and Ginny laughed, a bitter and weary laugh.
“I should care, I really should. I don’t know any Courtneys and I should be furiously trying to figure out who she is and why she wanted those damn pictures in the first place… but I’m just so tired,” Ginny said quietly. “I’ve got the answer I wanted for now, the rest can wait until the morning.”
“You are quite the feisty one – Greg, remind me never to cross a redhead, especially one with some scarily adept cursing skills,” Crabbe’s voice called out, sounding highly amused. Looking up in surprise, the two girls were faced with Crabbe and Goyle standing in front of them.
“It’s no wonder why Draco has developed quite a thing for you,” Goyle commented. “You’ve got a temper and a vindictive streak that matches his.”
“What are you two doing here?” Ginny demanded, standing up on shaky limbs, praying that they didn’t just see her throw up, not wanting them to see her in such a moment of weakness.
“Because someone is trying to mess with our friend, using his decidedly obvious weak spot – the weak spot being you, Weasley – against him. And when Draco gets all stroppy, he tends to take it out on us. Plus, there’s the fact that only a idiot, which Draco can be from time to time, would ever believe that you would be the type of girl to do that,” Crabbe said.
“We’re here to help you figure this out, and clear your name so that Draco doesn’t start terrorizing the entire wizarding world because he’s an immature idiot with a bad temper,” Goyle said.
“Unless you know a girl named Courtney, there’s not much you can help me with,” Ginny said, feeling rather shocked by this sudden occurrence, that Draco Malfoy’s best friends would show up and offer to help her. She was even more surprised when they exchanged knowing glances.
“We know quite a few Courtneys,” Crabbe said, arching his eyebrow, reminding Ginny that these two were not only Draco Malfoy’s best friends, but they were also, inexplicably, the most notorious playboys in the school. “What else can you tell us about her?”
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“I didn’t think you would come!” Claire exclaimed happily, trotting forwards as she spotted his tall form striding towards her. He’d ordered her to meet him at noon, and it was now an hour past that, but she hadn’t given up hope that he would eventually show up. Her exuberance wasn’t at all deterred by the cold glare he greeted her with. Draco breezed past her, barely acknowledging her as he strode forward, marching into the lobby of the hotel. Once he was inside, out of the cold, he paused, waiting for her to catch up.
He wasn’t going to show up. He had never intended to, he’d just wanted the annoying blond girl to leave him alone, to get away from her pestering before he lost all control of his temper. He’d spent a rather long, sleepless night dwelling on the events of the day before. Parts of Weasley’s speech kept running through his mind, and that combined with the image of her bruised and tear-streaked face had made it almost impossible to think of anything else. He wanted to dwell on his anger, to allow it to sweep over him so he could forget the other emotion that was plaguing him, the way it just burned all of his senses to see her with someone else that way, but instead, he was left with nothing more than a heavy sense of guilt. She had a point; he had turned his back.
But the stroppy little witch had made a fool of him! And if he was going to feel guilty about it, then he was damn well going to get to the bottom of the entire mess, so that he could just hate her in peace, without feeling that he had done anything wrong. He wanted to be absolved of all guilt in the matter. It had been this desire, the need to free himself from feeling any responsibility for the stupid girl so that he could focus on his anger without the image of her looking so sad and broken constantly replaying itself in his mind, that had lead him to meet her friend outside the hotel that morning.
The whole situation was rather cruel – if he was right, then he’d been wrong about the one girl he thought was different from everyone else in his life, the one he thought was worth caring about. But if he was wrong, then he had turned his back on the one girl he thought was worth caring about. A definite Catch-22. Either way, it wasn’t going to end well, and despite the knowledge that knowing was going to be just as horrible as not knowing, he still needed to know. So that he could go back to being nice and numb with rage. It kept him from feeling, and right now, with her words floating around in his head, he wanted nothing more than blissful numbness.
“I’ve already checked in with the staff, and one of them was on duty Thursday night. We should start by talking to him,” that annoying friend of Weasley’s said earnestly as she caught up with him. Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Do we even know that this happened Thursday night?” he muttered to himself. Something was definitely out of place when it came to her. She claimed that she was Weasley’s friend, but she seemed to be taking this matter a little too lightly, almost as if it were all some kind of game to her. She was definitely hiding something, a little too transparently for Draco’s liking. But it didn’t matter, she was just a means to an end, anyway. She had the connections, she claimed she knew the bastard that was in the photograph, so he needed her around.
“Come on, he’s at the front counter. We can probably even get him to check the records, to see who checked in that night,” she exclaimed, trotting off.
“I thought you said you had a name for me. That’s all I want,” Draco said, reluctantly following after her. She turned and smiled sheepishly at him.
“Well, I said I knew who it was, but the truth is that it’s only an idea. I overheard the girls that went to the club with Ginny talking about something that happened that night and so I have an idea of who it might be, so I want to look into it before I tell you, just in case it’s the wrong one. I mean, given your history in these matters, it’s safer for everyone involved, don’t you think?” she answered. Draco glared at her and fought to control his temper. He needed her, he repeated to himself, and cursing the girl for her repeated demonstrations of stupidity wasn’t the best way to get the information he needed from her.
“Don’t ever bring that up again,” he said threateningly. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with concern.
“Oh, you’re right, how terrible of me. I should stop reminding you of that, it must be terrible to hear about it, especially when it seems to be happening all over again. But look, there he is! Marcus!” she called out, waving at a uniformed clerk standing behind the marble front counter, who looked up and then seemed to do a double take as he recognized that Draco Malfoy was now standing with the girl who’d been grilling him an hour earlier about what he might have seen.
“Were you able to check the record from that night I asked about?” the annoying blond girl asked in what looked like a pathetic attempt to work her charm on the witless slug behind the counter, who was all but drooling in response as she batted her eyelashes.
“Oh, of course! As it turns out, it was a really slow night – just the usual types of things; last minute check-ins from some Ministry officials and the like. But there was one name that stands out, that I think is what you’re looking for…” he said excitedly, stumbling over his words as he spoke, his eyes never looking away from hers. As he slid a piece of parchment across the counter to her, his eyes glanced up and he seemed to jump with the recognition that the Draco Malfoy was looming grumpily behind the girl he was trying to impress. Eyes wide with panic, he backed a few steps away, staring down at the counter. Draco, despite himself, felt a faint glimmer of satisfaction that his mere presence was enough to instill fear among the witless.
“I see…” she was saying, valiantly trying to appear crestfallen. “The name, the one that I promised I’d give you if we had any proof of it being him? We have proof now… it was Justin Hallow, he was the one who is in the photograph.”
She was holding out the piece of parchment, which contained a register of names and their check-in times. Row after row of scrawled signatures and times lay in front of him, but near the bottom, beside a hand-written 12:32 am, was the name that she’d mentioned. The nephew of the old man who owned All Hallows’, a man who knew his father very well.
Justin Hallow. Well, now he had a name. Turning away, Draco found that he felt rather numb. Still holding the piece of parchment in his hands and ignoring the clerk’s pleas that he needed to have it returned, Draco was surprised that he didn’t feel the firestorm of anger he’d anticipated. Rather, he was numb – and even more surprisingly, he was calm.
He walked out into the street, ignoring the chirping of that annoying girl as she followed him out, cooing over his now broken heart and shattered illusions about the bloody Weasley idiot. He did have tangible proof now, and that should have made everything all the more real, yet all he could do was stare at that blasted piece of parchment in his hands.
“Draco, I’m really sorry about this. I wanted to prove that Ginny was innocent, that what she was saying this afternoon wasn’t just a bunch of lies. But I guess now… now we know what she really is,” she said, her eyes misty with tears. Draco watched her performance curiously, wondering why she was addressing him by his first name and why she was still talking to him. He was finished with her now; she’d served her purpose.
“And what is that?” he asked tersely.
“You must be so upset, to be taken in by her performance and the way that she tried to use you like that,” she said, her voice soft and breathy as she stared up at him with her big blue eyes.
“Yes, all of her repeated declarations of eternal hatred really did make for quite a convincing attempt to lure me into her clutches,” Draco said. Apparently impervious to sarcasm, she tried to make her move, placing one hand on his shoulder and leaning towards him. He allowed her a second to believe that he’d fallen into her trap before viciously shrugged away from her touch.
“Don’t ever touch me,” he snapped viciously. She looked surprised, but not the least bit chagrined, and she made a move to step closer to him and Draco just turned and walked away. She called after him, but he ignored her, desperate to be alone with his thoughts. Still clutching the incriminating piece of parchment, the annoying girl had certainly given him a lot of things to think over. Even as he walked away, though, the numbness he’d felt earlier began to drain away, leaving his limbs feeling heavy and a spark of fury igniting deep within him. He needed time alone to process everything.
But first, he had plans. There were a whole lot of pictures he never wanted to see again waiting to be burned.
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Through the haze of exhaustion, both physical and emotional, Ginny found herself listening to the conversation taking place in front of her with a strange detachment, wondering what sort of alternate universe she’d found her way into, that Crabbe and Goyle would be sitting at a table with her, trying to help her out. If someone had told her a month ago that she’d be sitting there now, with two of the most popular Slytherins, who were voluntarily sitting with her in a bid to assist her with a rather serious problem, she would have laughed in their face and advised them to give up their drug habits, as it was obviously addling their sense of reality.
“What about Courtney Jones? The brunette we met on the French Riviera last summer break?” Crabbe suggested, a wicked grin on his face.
“She wasn’t a brunette, mate. She was blonde, and she was probably in her thirties. I doubt our Weasley friend here would have attracted the wrath of anyone that much older than her,” Goyle had countered. “What about Courtney Harper? The girl from Durmstrang?”
“I don’t know anyone who would even consider going to Durmstrang, let alone who does,” Ginny said, crisply, shaking herself out of her stupor. “Not exactly my circle in society, if you catch my drift.”
“Right. Goyle, know any girls named Courtney who are self-righteous little Gryffindors who tend to get a little snarky with fellows who are only trying to help? Is that more suited to your social circle, Weasley?” Crabbe said, glowering slightly at her.
“I just don’t know anyone by that name who would want to do this to me,” Ginny cried, finally growing too frustrated at the maze of suggestions that didn’t lead to any answers. They’d been at it for hours, and Ginny didn’t think she could stomach any more of the anecdotal way they were recalling the names of all the Courtneys they’d come in contact with. She’d been observing them closely in between bouts of lucidity, and she still did not understand why they were as popular as they were. They were nice enough, but they didn’t compare to the other Slytherins, such as Blaise Zabini… and Malfoy.
“Ginny, maybe it’s time to stop thinking that they were trying to do this to you. Does Malfoy know any Courtneys who’d want to get back at him for something?” Hermione asked exasperatedly, sending the assembled group into a stunned silence. She’d been swooping by the table intermittently between orders, trying to cover tables at the Three Broomsticks without leaving Ginny alone with the two of them, and it was obvious that her patience had worn thin with the back-slapping and knowing looks the two were occupying themselves with as they scrolled through their list of names.
“Have you ever met Draco? There are many people by many names who want to get back at him for many things,” Goyle answered her, casting Crabbe a knowing look. “Hell, if weren’t friends, I’d probably want to take a crack at him myself.”
“Lovely. So, I’m basically looking for a needle in a haystack,” Ginny sighed, heavily.
“Not, but the Mudblood’s right – it’s entirely possible that this has more to do with Draco than it does with you. That would explain why you don’t know any Courtneys,” Goyle said thoughtfully, as Ginny bristled at the offhand way he threw out the derogatory term.
“Don’t call her that!” Ginny snapped, the control she was keeping on her emotions brittle at best. Goyle looked at her, clearly perplexed, as if he didn’t understand what she was upset about. After a moment, realization seemed to set in, and he shrugged sheepishly.
“Right, forgot you were one of those politically-correct-overly-sensitive types,” he said, sounding completely unremorseful. He turned to Crabbe. “In any case, I think we should go and have a chat with Draco and warn the sulky little princess that he should be on the lookout while he’s embarking on his rampaging tantrums.”
They quickly said goodbye and left the restaurant, and Ginny slumped forward, laying her head down on the table. After her confrontation with Justin and their unexpected intervention, Hermione had insisted they give the “poor girl” a night to herself before meeting again to ponder the identity of this mysterious Courtney. While Ginny appreciated her friend’s concern, she hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and worries that wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how much she needed the reprieve.
She had claimed that it didn’t matter what he thought, but now that she had the answer, now that the gnawing weight of fear had been eased, she discovered that it was all that she did care about. She’d told him in no uncertain terms to bugger off, and he’d just laughed it off. She’d turned him into a giant canary. When she’d spent a night frozen with terror and barely able to breathe because of her claustrophobia, he’d held her hand the whole time and listened without comment. But now he wouldn’t look at her.
As Hermione sat down next to her and placed a comforting arm on her shoulder, Ginny asked herself why his reaction would bother her so much. Hadn’t she already learned, so long ago, that there were no heroes, no noble characters who came through for the heroine just in the nick of time, no self-sacrificing gestures - at least not in this world. Just because Malfoy had a strange habit of appearing whenever she seemed to be in trouble, and claimed he looked after his own, it was hardly reason enough to think he would be any different. His reaction was exactly what she should have expected, but she couldn’t tell if she was upset by him, or just upset because she’d allowed herself to hope he might act differently.
“Did your friend Claire tell you she was planning on meeting with Malfoy this afternoon?” Hermione asked quietly. Ginny lifted her head, feeling dazed. “I just saw them across the town square. She’d been waiting for quite a while, and I was wondering what she was doing out there, when he just showed up.”
“Hopefully not making things worse,” Ginny said softly, recalling the way Claire had acted the other day during her confrontation with Malfoy. “I told you what she said to him the other day, right?”
“Maybe you should pay her a visit tonight, find out what’s going on there,” Hermione suggested.
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“So now I’m trying to figure out who this Courtney girl is and why she would want to do something like this to me, because I’m fairly certain I’ve never even met a Courtney,” Ginny explained wearily after finishing the dregs of the cup of tea Clair had served her. After an afternoon with Crabbe and Goyle reminiscing about their various female conquests (what was it with those two and women?), Hermione trying to gain some type of useful information from them, and Ginny just trying to keep herself on her feet, she had very little energy left. But she had to know why Claire had been meeting with Malfoy, she had to know if he’d learned anything new…
“Maybe you’ve already met her and don’t even know it. It’s not that difficult to use a fake name, even around here where everyone is so paranoid about being caught by a Death Eater without their papers,” Claire said knowingly.
“Even so, why me?” Ginny asked ruefully. She sighed heavily, and had to bite back a yawn. Her vision began to swim a bit, and she had to blink to clear her sight, her body suddenly feeling very heavy. She stretched her arms out above her head, stretching, trying to rouse her tired body, and then smiled at Claire sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve just been completely wiped out by all of this. I want nothing more than to just go home and sleep for about a week… At least sleeping will help me forget about this whole mess, and make me stop asking so many questions.”
“Oh, I think you’re going to be asking yourself a lot of questions for a long time about this,” Claire said, standing up. The tone of her voice had changed so suddenly, from that of a sympathetic friend to something completely different. She would have sounded amused, if it hadn’t been for the sharp edge to her tone that had Ginny’s head snapping up in confusion. She had to squint to see her, her vision had become rather blurry, but Claire was standing over her, watching her expectantly, with a rather cruel smile on her face.
“Claire?” Ginny asked, extremely confused. The teacup she’d been holding slipped from her fingers, and clattered against the table, and Ginny nearly tumbled after it. She grabbed the edge of the table, finding purchase enough to hold herself up.
“For instance, you’re going to ask yourself why you ever decided to play a bloody hero that day in the Great Hall, and why that need you have to stand up for others ruined all of my plans, and caused this entire mess to happen. You were never supposed to be involved, but you stuck your nose in anyway and almost ruined everything! And you are also going to wonder how, for someone who seems so smart, you fell for the same trick twice. Didn’t you learn the other night not to accept drinks from other people?” she snapped viciously. Ginny gasped, a cold jolt hitting her hard in the stomach as she realized what Claire was saying.
“It was you? You’re the girl who paid for him to… it was you?” she asked, feeling dizzy and weak. “And now, what did you put in my tea? Why did you drug me?”
“If you hadn’t been just too damn stubborn to duck your head out of the way, I never would have had to involve you, but now… now you’ve become too useful to my goal, and I have no choice,” Claire said. Ginny tried to croak out another question, but the world was spinning too much and her head was just so heavy, she couldn’t hold it up any longer. The last thing she remembered was the coolness of the table’s surface as she slumped forward.
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They really had meant to go straight to Draco’s house after they left the Weasley girl and her friend. The serious mousy-haired Mudblood had been pretty convincing in her belief that there really could be someone after Draco, but as they’d left the restaurant, they’d been sidetracked by a couple of the girls they’d encountered the night before. A few minutes’ flirtation had turned into a full afternoon, and it was almost midnight by the time they finally made their way over to the Malfoy estate. As they were shown through the gate, they were nearly bowled over by their best friend as he brushed past them, seemingly unaware of their presence until they called out to them.
“Draco! Where are you headed at this hour?” Goyle asked, catching Draco’s arm as he passed, pulling him to stop. Draco violently shrugged off his friend’s arm, pushing him back. Crabbe and Goyle shot each other a look, immediately able to sense that something was seriously wrong. Draco hadn’t said a word yet, but it was written all over him, from the intensity in his eyes, to the jittery way he began pacing around, as if he were a lion trapped in a cage. “What’s going on?”
“I have to go somewhere,” Draco answered, his tone inviting no objections. Goyle thought back to the mudblood’s words about how Draco might actually be the one in trouble, and he realized she was probably very right about that. And that they were probably a little late in showing up.
“We’ll come with you,” Crabbe spoke up. “You look like you’re heading into a fight, and with that temper of yours, you should have us around to keep you from doing something really stupid.”
“No, I have to go alone,” Draco said distractedly. He was clutching a piece of parchment in his right hand and he was pacing around like a caged animal, circling around, seemingly unable to stop. He was agitated, it was clear, and the air of intensity surrounding him was almost suffocating. His friends could tell that it was completely unwise to let him go anywhere alone. He seemed more upset than when Parkinson had presented him with the photos of Weasley and that wanker from All Hallows’.
Goyle stepped forward, determined to try again, and grabbed him by the arm, halting his agitated pacing.
“You’re not going anywhere without us, and certainly not until you tell us what the hell is going on with you,” he said, in a tone that would have brokered no argument, had he been speaking to anyone other than Draco Malfoy. Draco stared at him, dead in the eye, but after a few minutes, realizing that his usual scare tactics wouldn’t work on those who had never been afraid of him, Draco relented.
“I have to go to the school. I left my broomstick there, and if I don’t go get it right now, there’s no way to tell what will happen to it. And I have to go alone,” he said, his voice quiet despite the intensity.
“If it’s just a broomstick, it’s not worth all this nonsense for it! You can always get another one, it’s not the end of the world,” Crabbe said, dismissing his reason with a scoff. Goyle, who had broken Draco’s eye contact, remained silent, sensing that there was a great deal more than just a broomstick at stake.
“But it’s my broomstick, and I can’t just leave it to fend for itself. They might break it. Even if it is stupid, difficult and slow and jerks to the left when I want it to go right, it’s still mine,” Draco snapped furiously. “Now let go of me, I have to go.”
“What’s really going on?” Goyle asked, eyeing the piece of parchment Draco was clenching in his fist. Draco followed his gaze, and his hand involuntarily tightened around the crumpled wad, turning his knuckles white.
“I have to go now,” he said, pushing Goyle away, much more violently than before. Goyle stumbled away, caught off guard by the sudden movement, and after a few attempts to regain his balance, he tumbled heavily to the ground.
“Malfoy! What the hell, mate?” Crabbe yelled, stalking towards Draco as he moved towards the gate. Crabbe grabbed at him, but Draco swiftly dodged him, ducking out of the way and dashing towards the street. With a look over his shoulder, Draco saw Crabbe and Goyle regrouping and knew they’d follow him. Without any further thought, he pulled out his wand and cast a curse, immobilizing his best friends with a flash of white light that neither of them saw coming. Draco didn’t look back as he took off at a dead run.
“What the bloody hell was that about?” Crabbe muttered, through his magically-gritted teeth, as both lay motionless on the ground, neither able to move much more than their mouths and eyes.
“That Mudblood girl was right – they were using Weasley to get to Draco. It worked, and we were too late.”
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Claire sighed impatiently, tapping her wand against a desk, trying to tune out the sound of her hostage furiously smashing against the walls of the wardrobe they’d locked her in after Ginny had practically twisted off Claire’s arm as she struggled against her captors. Remembering the girl’s odd reaction when Professor Snape had sent her in there to fight a Boggart, Claire had decided that it might subdue the furious witch, who’d been nothing but unexpectedly difficult since she’d been roused from the potion Claire had drugged her with.
“If you keep banging around in there, you’re just going to hurt yourself. Promise to stay quiet like a good little girl and maybe we’ll let you out,” Claire called out, hoping to put an end to the infernal banging. She needed to concentrate, to stay on top of her game. It was all going to come down to this – three years of anger and hatred had lead her to this night, and she needed everything to go right
She walked over to the wardrobe and leaned against it. She frowned, unsure why Ginny was practically sobbing. Claire could hear her hands scratching along the doors, as if trying to find a way out.
“Honestly, Ginny, it’s just a closet. What’s so horrible about being in there for a few hours? You know, this really had nothing to do with you in the first place – you’re just the bait.”
“Bait for what?” her muffled voice asked, granting Claire a relief from the banging. Her relief was tempered by the sharp edge of hysteria in Ginny’s voice, evident even through the thick walls of the wardrobe, which grated her ears.
“Why, your boyfriend, of course! I told you that I had to rethink my entire plan when you came along and ruined everything. But I’m actually glad of it, as this is a much more suitable arrangement. A form of poetic justice, if you will. Right about now, he should be receiving an owl, demanding that he meet us here, alone, should he not want anything to happen to you,” Claire explained coyly. “Oh, and in the note, I put that perfect Muggle Polaroid photograph that we took of you while we were trying to shove you in the wardrobe – a little visual incentive, if you will.”
Claire glanced over at the other boys – all three of them friends of her older brother, and smiled widely. Mark and Sean were still nursing the nasty scratches to their face they’d received as Ginny had tried to claw herself free as they tried to force her into the wardrobe, kicking and screaming like a cat being forced into a lake, and James was hovering by the door, anxiously awaiting their guest of honour’s arrival.
“He’s not my boyfriend. That’s the flaw in your whole plan, Claire. You made him hate me; remember the way he looked at me yesterday?” Ginny asked, her voice was quiet and weak. “There’s no way he’d ever come after that. He’ll probably applaud your threat as the best way to get his revenge without sullying his designer robes. This is just another opportunity for him to walk away.”
Ginny’s voice was barely above a whisper, but even through the thickness of the wood, Claire could hear how despondent she was. For that second, she almost relented, remembering that Ginny was the only person that whole school who had been nice to her, and she was the one who’d defended her – twice – without regard for her own safety. And had forgiven her after she’d turned her back on her. But then, she remembered the reason she was there, why they were all there, and her resolve hardened once again.
“You better hope that he shows, or you are going to be spending a lot of time in there,” Claire snapped cruelly. Ginny took a few sobbing breaths that Claire could hear clearly, and then the hysterical smashing began again with a renewed fervor.
“Claire, I’m getting tired of this,” Sean said. “Why are we even waiting here? Let’s go get him and get this over with! Enough of this nutty plan of yours.”
“It’s not at all a nutty plan, as you will soon see. It’s actually quite brilliant because it mirrors what happened last time, but instead, he’s going to be the one who suffers. It’s my chance to make it right,” Claire said, her voice drifting off as her eyes clouded with memory.
“Just as long as that bastard shows up and we get a chance to make him pay,” Mark said threateningly. Claire smiled knowingly.
“Of course.”
“But he’s not going to come! He’s not, I know he’s not, he has no reason to!” Ginny started calling out, her voice desperate and tight with panic, echoing with an irrational amount of fear that began to grate of Claire’s nerves. Her attempts to smash open the door became furious, as she began to cry out her pleas to be released, punctuated by the sound of her fists banging against the heavy door. “You have to let me out here, please please let me out, please!”
Claire turned back to the wardrobe and kicked at the door, her head ringing with all the noise of Ginny’s shrieking cries.
“Just shut up, already!” Claire yelled. “This is all your own fault anyway, if you hadn’t interfered, if you hadn’t been so bloody stubborn… I mean, in any other circumstances, you would probably appreciate what we’re trying to do here, but because all you did was interfere and get in the way, you’ve brought this on yourself!”
“Now remember, she’s a Gryffindor, don’t begrudge her her one talent. As a whole, they’re not an overly talented group,” Draco Malfoy’s voice said. Though low and rough, it cut through Ginny’s cries and pulled all attention in the room to him, freezing Claire to the spot. Sean and Mark jumped to attention, holding out their wands threateningly as they moved in towards him. Claire turned slowly, determined to stay in control of the situation, as she spotted James moving in behind Malfoy. They had him surrounded. Even so, she flinched involuntarily as she met his eyes. While he was standing docilely as Sean and Mark grabbed his arms and searched his pockets for any hidden wands, Claire could see the well of rage that was boiling just below the surface. It was barely hidden; all you had to do was look him in the eye, and you’d see exactly how dangerously furious he truly was. It was exactly what Claire had been hoping for.
Mark found his wand, and fishing it out of his pocket, he tossed it away. It landed on the floor with a dull clatter that was nearly drowned out by Ginny’s banging and thrashing.
“Let her out. I came, I’m alone. Now let her go,” Malfoy said, his voice full of authority. Claire felt her temper erupt as she took in the arrogance of his tone. He was trapped, out-numbered, defenseless and alone, and he was still barking orders as if he had the right.
“And what if I don’t?” she snapped viciously, vindictively planning to keep Ginny locked in there as long as it took to crush the arrogance from Malfoy, if that was what it was going to take. Malfoy met her eyes and, despite the fact that he was surrounded and had three wands hostilely pointed at him, he moved forward, his eyes dark and intent.
“If you don’t let her out right now, I am going to kill you where you stand,” he said, his voice incredibly calm and infused with so much conviction that it made Claire utterly certain that he was entirely capable of doing what he threatened, despite his current state of captivity. Shaking slightly as a shiver ran down her spine, Claire glanced over at Mark and nodded slightly. Sighing loudly, and moving as slowly as possible, just to demonstrate that although the others in the room may be terrified of him, that didn’t mean that they were completely inclined to do as he said, Mark backed away from Malfoy and walked resignedly towards the wardrobe, where Ginny’s squealing and thrashing against the door had reached a feverish pitch.
With a grunt, Mark removed the locking spell they’d put in place to hold the fiery girl, and the heavy wooden door was violently flung open as a tangle of flailing limbs burst out of the small dark space, tackling Mark, clawing him out of her way. Tumbling forward as Mark dashed out of the way, eager to save his own skin, Claire had to look away as she caught a glimpse at Ginny, sprawled on her knees on the dusty classroom floor, drawing heaving breaths as if she’d just fought a battle to the death.
Her hands and knuckles were raw and bloody from her repeated attempts to smash her way through the wooden panels of her prison, and there were streaks of blood along her face. Coupled with the bruises from the incident at the Quidditch pitch the day before, she looked horrible. Her face had a transparent sheen to it, from the sweat that had plastered her wild hair along her forehead and neck, and she was gasping for air as she leaned forward, putting her weight on her injured hands, almost bowing to the floor as she took in the fact that she had been freed. She looked up, and Claire felt a knot of guilt tighten in her stomach – her eyes were positively wild with fear, and it seemed as if she had no idea where she was. She was lost in the world of her own terror.
A strangled cry of outrage erupted from Malfoy, and he darted forward, but Sean and James grabbed his arms and held him back. Their restraint was short-lived, however, as Malfoy effortlessly shrugged them off, and killed any new attempts to regain their hold of the Malfoy heir with a deadly look which froze them in their tracks. Walking forward slowly, as if approaching a crazed and wild animal, Malfoy knelt down when he was a few feet away from the gasping and trembling girl on the floor.
“Weasley,” he said, his voice gentle. Claire watched the scene with a sick fascination, wondering if the person who had appeared in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was the real Draco Malfoy, for how was it possible that the boy who’d done all that he’d done could have such tenderness in his voice? “Weasley, look at me. Look at me.”
Ginny’s wild eyes looked up at his through the mess of hair that had fallen into her face, and as their eyes met, her panicked breathing seemed to slow to a normal rhythm. He reached out a tentative hand, brushing the stray hair out of the way and pulled it away as she flinched, ducking out of the way as if she’d been struck. He held her gaze, however, and gradually, as she stared back at him with uncomprehending eyes, the haze of terror and confusion around her seemed to dissipate, and she came back to herself.
“No way,” she gasped in disbelief, her voice hoarse from all her screaming. “You… you actually came?”
Feeling that the happy couple had had enough of a reunion, Claire strolled over to Ginny, grabbing her shoulder with a tight grip, pressing her nails into the skin, making the weakened girl hiss in pain. Mark and Sean jumped to action, grabbing for Malfoy, restraining him as they pulled him to his feet. Claire smiled wickedly; it was all coming together, everything that she’d wanted. Soon, he’d be the one lying on the floor, bleeding and begging for mercy, and all of this would have been worth it for that alone. With her other hand, she pulled out a vial of glittering charcoal-coloured liquid and held it up.
“Do you know what this is, Malfoy? I’m sure a wizard from a family such as yours is more than familiar with its properties,” she said acidly as James stepped forward, and cast a magical restraint on Malfoy’s hands, binding them behind his back. Malfoy’s eyes flicked to the vial she was holding up over Ginny’s head, and there was a split-second of recognition that betrayed a flash of fear, before he was staring straight ahead, locking his eyes on Ginny Weasley, who was whispering the words “he actually came” over and over again under her breath, lost in a daze of amazement. “This is a lovely concoction that Death Eaters discovered during the war, which they aptly named Witch’s Spit. Do you know why they named it that?”
“If this is going to be yet another one of those long, prolonged speeches examining history for yet more evidence that Death Eaters tend to have rather misogynistic views, you can save it, because I’ve heard it all before,” Malfoy answered, with a sigh of boredom. Claire smiled; a cold, cruel smile. They had no idea what she had planned for them. Her first step was going to be wiping that smug look off of Malfoy’s face, no matter the cost, even if that cost was the pretty face of Ginny Weasley.
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She was sure she was going to die. The walls had been caving in on her, and no matter how hard she pushed against them, clawed against them, it made no difference. She was stuck in a small, small space and it was going to kill her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except scream to be let out.
Sweat was burning her eyes, causing tears to run down her face, causing the cut across her cheek to sting. Her hands were screaming in pain every time she smashed her fists against the wall, hoping to find a way out before the walls caved in and she died. It was going to kill her. She couldn’t breathe and she was going to suffocate in that small dark space, a victim of her own fear.
Until the door cracked open, and she was suddenly tumbling out into the open, into the light. Oblivious to everything except the blissful freshness of the air and the comforting feeling of largeness about the room she was in, all she cared about was breathing and that no one came close enough to put her back in that small dark space. Never again.
Through the haze of her terror, she heard a voice calling her name. Her hands were throbbing, but she couldn’t move because then they’d see her, and if they saw her, they might force her to go back. She shook it off, focusing on breathing. But he called again, and she looked up, her frayed nerves making her jump at the noise.
She met a pair of grey eyes staring at her, staring right through her. Familiar eyes, eyes that knew because they saw everything there was to see. They were furious, but not at her. Furious because of what had been done to her, furious that they hadn’t been there to stop it.
“Look at me,” he commanded, unnecessarily, because in that moment, she knew she never wanted to look anywhere else.
A jolt of recognition ran through her. Draco Malfoy. It was Draco Malfoy, kneeling in front of her, staring at her with a mixture of rage and concern, his voice tenderly commanding her to look at him.
“No way,” she breathed, shocked. After everything that had happened, after the way he’d looked at her the other day, and he’d actually come? “You… you actually came?”
Unable to look away from the one sight that was keeping her terror at bay, Ginny was surprised to notice that tears were running down her face. Hours of being shut in the darkness with her own fear, feeling as if she were completely alone and abandoned, never daring to hope that he’d be stupid enough to come, and here he was. Staring at her, saying her name and smiling at her with that hint of a teasing grin that made the butterflies in her stomach dance furiously, Draco Malfoy had actually come to her rescue.
The sharp pain of nails digging into her skin ripped her from the wonderment of her realization, drawing her violently back down to earth. Struggling against the hazy confusion that the remains of her panic attack had left, she tried to focus on what was being said by her captor, but his eyes were still on her, and she knew that no matter what happened, he would make sure she would never have to go back in that wardrobe ever again. The look in his eyes was promise enough.
“They named it Witch’s Spit because it is one of few magical substances that can actually melt skin. They claimed it had the same acidic properties of the words that come out of an angry witch’s mouth. Clever lot, don’t you think? Didn’t stop them from using it a few dozen times during Voldemort’s Revolution – they prefer it because it can disfigure its victim’s face into something horribly unrecognizable as human without killing that person. There’s no way to reverse the process, they are just stuck that way forever. Quite a way to send a message, don’t you think?” Claire’s voice, so unfamiliarly cold now, was saying. Ginny’s foggy brain suddenly cleared, and everything snapped into place.
“What the hell are you doing here? Are you a complete idiot? Don’t you know that this was just a stupid trap?” Ginny shouted at Malfoy, who scowled at her.
“Of course I knew it was a trap, you silly girl. As you’re the one who fell into the trap to begin with, I don’t think you should be asking me if I’m an idiot, because if anyone is an idiot in this situation, that would have to be you,” Malfoy sneered back at her.
“If you make any move, either to free yourself or try to defend yourself, I’m going to open this bottle and spill it all over your girlfriend’s face,” Claire threatened, her voice shrieking with the demand to be heard.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Ginny snapped at the same time as Malfoy protested, “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“If I’m not your girlfriend, then why did you even come here? I would have been perfectly fine on my own without your help,” Ginny cried indignantly.
“Did you hear me? I’m going to use the entire contents of this vial on her if you even make a move to defend yourself!”
“Oh, I can see that. About ready to unleash some hidden Gryffindor talent none of us have witnessed and free yourself from a locked wardrobe, were you?” Malfoy asked, with his infuriating teasing smile that indicated that he didn’t believe a word she said. “If you were doing so well on your own, perhaps I should just leave then?”
“SHUT UP, both of you!!” Claire shrieked, the fact that her threats were being completely disregarded by her two captives finally shattering her patience. “You don’t seem to understand the situation here! I have an entire vial of Witch’s Spit hovering over your girlfriend’s head, and unless you want to spend the rest of your life staring at a scarred little mountain troll, you will SHUT UP!”
“I still can’t believe you were stupid enough to come here,” Ginny muttered under her breath, smiling slightly at the annoyed look Malfoy shot her. Claire’s grip on her shoulder was becoming rather unbearable, especially with the utter throbbing of her bleeding hands to bear as well. The largest of the three thugs Claire had recruited for whatever plot she’d been planning suddenly stood a few feet in front of Malfoy, blocking Ginny’s view of his face. Despite the death grip Claire had on her arm, Ginny struggled to move to the side, so she could see him. Claire held her back.
“Why are you doing this, Claire? What could Malfoy have possibly done to you to make you completely lose your mind?” Ginny asked. “I thought we were friends. Why are you doing this?”
“Why? WHY am I doing this? Why don’t you ask your boyfriend, Ginny? See if he has an answer for you,” Claire said, her voice so full of pain that it caused Ginny to twist her head up to try to meet her (former) friend’s face. “He won’t. He doesn’t even remember who I am.”
“Should I remember you? What’s your name again?” Malfoy spat his question. Ginny tried to shuffle to the side, desperate to see his face, but Claire’s grip remained tight and painful, not allowing her enough movement.
“Claire. Claire Carmichael. CLAIRE CARMICHAEL!” she shrieked, tears now running openly down her face. “Does that name not mean anything to you at all? CARMICHAEL!”
At her sudden hysteria, James stepped back, his wand still fully trained on Malfoy, but as he turned, he moved out of Ginny’s line of sight, and she could see Malfoy again. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes had grown dark and downcast. Ginny frowned, wondering what history there was between the two, and why Claire’s last name seemed to be having such a profound effect on Malfoy.
“You’re David Carmichael’s sister,” Malfoy said, his voice dull and flat. He was staring at the ground, seemingly unable to look up at Claire. Ginny’s mind reeled with this sudden development. “Aren’t you?”
"Yes, I am. All this time, and you didn't even recognize my name," Claire spat. Ginny, heedless of the painful restraint of Claire's grip, fidgeted, maneuvering herself closer to Malfoy, needing to gain a better view of his face. He'd grown pale, his eyes dark and impassive. "That's just part of your arrogance, the arrogance of the whole lot of you. You forget the names of those whose lives you've ruined as soon as you no longer have to see what you've done."
"You two know each other?" she asked, surprised. Malfoy's reaction to this new relevation was starting to scare her. He seemed... almost chastised, as if he were a repentant boy accepting a scolding because he knew he deserved it - wanted it, because then it would relieve him of the guilt.
"Your boyfriend and I have quite a sordid history, but mostly through association. Do you want to tell her, or should I?" Claire asked, her voice tinged with an edge of hysteria that gave her an almost genial demeanor.
"Leave her out of this. It has nothing to do with her," Malfoy ordered darkly. "You never should have involved her in the first place."
"Name a better way to get you where it hurts the most," Claire shot back defensively.
"Name a better way to ensure you end up exactly like your brother," Malfoy retorted, his eyes suddenly blazing with fury.
"Shut up! Don't you ever mention him!" Claire shrieked, as one of the boys guarding Malfoy turned and jabbed him in the stomach with his fist. Even as he jolted forward, as the air was knocked out of him, he didn't make a sound, and quickly recovered, straightening back up and facing Claire with the same impassive face and authoritative presence that he usually wore.
"What is going on here?" Ginny demanded slowly, trying to keep a tremble out of her voice. Her body was in shock from her ordeal in the wardrobe, and she was finding it difficult to keep from shivering uncontrollably.
"Do you remember the story I told you, about how he is the youngest person ever reported to have actually used the Cruciatus Curse on a human being? When he was only 14 years old? He got so angry with someone that he nearly killed him, but that because of who his father is, no one dared punish him for it?" Claire asked, her voiced hushed as she addressed Ginny. Ginny did recall the story that Claire had wide-eyedly recounted when Ginny had claimed that Malfoy had never done anything to justify the amount of fear people regarded him with.
"Yes, I remember. I didn't think it was actually true," Ginny said, with a quick glance at Malfoy. He was standing frozen as the conversation went on around him, staring at the ground in front of him. His eyes wouldn't meet Ginny's.
"It's almost true. I had to lie a bit because I didn't want you to think I knew more than I did. But I know only too well... The boy he almost killed was my brother. He and a group of his brainless followers grabbed him, and they held him down while Malfoy cursed him. Repeatedly," Claire spat out, her voice thick with emotion. "He was alone, wandless and out-numbered, and they nearly killed him. Do you want to know what it is my brother did to deserve that?"
"He took what was mine," Malfoy said, his voice terrifyingly cold. Ginny felt a jolt of fear seize her body, and as she looked at him, she finally understood why people could possibly be afraid of him. The air of ridiculousness that shrouded his arrogance and authority, that had given Ginny the courage to finally challenge him because she believed that he was ultimately harmless, had completely dissipated. Malfoy was glaring at Claire with an expression that spoke of such cold, furious rage that Ginny was amazed that Claire didn't turn and flee, just to get away from that look.
"He kissed your girlfriend!" Claire snapped furiously. "You were all fourteen years old! It could hardly have meant anything, and it didn't warrant what you did to him! You see, Ginny, even though they didn't kill David, they may as well have. Because he's probably going to spend the rest of his life at St Mungo's, unable to remember his own name."
"Claire, enough of this! Let's get on with it!" Mark grumbled, his eyes fixed on Malfoy.
"Yes, let's do that. Here's what we have planned for you. James, here, has been practising for almost two years, haven't you James? It only took a couple of months for him to learn the Cruciatus Curse, but he wanted to make sure it was quite right - as powerful and painful as possible, as befitting a Malfoy," Claire said, her voice rising with excitement.
"Rightly so," Malfoy commented arrogantly.
"If you make a single move to defend yourself or try to escape, I'm going to use this entire bottle of Witch's Spit to ensure that you never have to worry about someone trying to steal this pretty little girlfriend, because no one would ever want her after that," Claire threatened viciously.
"You can go right ahead and do it, because I have absolutely no intention of being used like this," Ginny exclaimed, struggling to her feet. Claire grabbed her wrist, sending a firestorm of pain from her injured hands running down her arm.
"That's my girl," Malfoy commented, with a proud smirk.
"I'm not 'yours', you ignorant baffoon. That kind of thinking is what got us here in the first place," Ginny snapped angrily, before she cried out in pain as Claire reached her breaking point and grabbed a fistful of Ginny's hair, snapping her head back.
"I've had ENOUGH of you two! James, what are you waiting for?? Get to it, already!" Claire screeched. Using that moment of distraction, Ginny tried to twist herself out of Claire's grip, ignoring the pain of her scalp at Claire's stranglehold on her long hair. Slipping free, Ginny made a triumphant dash of three steps before her hands were simultaneously pulled behind her back, and a strong magical bind wound itself around them. Claire had managed to cast a spell, magically binding her hands, even in the middle of the fray. As her injured hands were jostled together, a firestorm of pain traveled down her arm, and Ginny's knees gave out. She collapsed to the floor, gasping from the exertion and pain.
“Don’t try that again, Ginny! I swear I’ll use this whole bottle on you!” Claire shrieked. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been planning this? I had everything all arranged, and when I bumped into Malfoy that day in the Great Hall, it was all part of my plan! But you nearly ruined everything when you interfered. Who asked you to stand up for me?”
“I have to congratulate you on your acting abilities, at the very least, Claire. I actually believed you were my friend,” Ginny hissed between gasping breaths. The burning pain of her hands made her want to close her eyes and lay down, succumbing to the agony.
“Weasley,” Malfoy said, his voice so demanding that she looked up, slowly, as every movement caused her pain. His face was grey and pallid, and she frowned in confusion as she looked back at him, trying to understand what was going through his mind. He smiled at her, a slight and sad little smile, before he spoke again. “Close your eyes. I don’t want you looking at me with those red and puffy eyes of yours. Ghastly, really.”
Biting her lip and struggling to keep a fresh batch of tears at bay, she released a shaky breath and complied with his order. But not before she gave him one last, lingering look, trying to understand why. Why he had even come, why he hadn’t even tried to free himself yet. And why he was submitting to Claire’s demands.
“Go ahead James,” Claire said, her voice tinged with cruel excitement. Ginny, her eyes shut tightly, held her breath, her stomach clenching into knots, anticipating what she knew was going to come, what she was powerless to stop.
“Crucio,” James’ husky voice growled, and Ginny felt a wave of nausea, and had to squeeze her eyes shut as she heard the heard the rush of power leave his wand, and the strangled groan that escalated into a scream as it struck its victim. After a few seconds, silence fell over the room again, except for the sound of Malfoy gasping in pain.
“Again,” Claire demanded, her grip on Ginny growing stronger as she reveled in witnessing her captor’s pain. The second time, the screaming was more prolonged, and Ginny couldn’t stand not seeing what was happening. As she opened her eyes, she saw Draco Malfoy struggling to his feet. His eyes were bright, there was a thick sheen of perspiration on his forehead, and a tiny trickle of blood coming from his nose, and from the slow and deliberate way he was moving, he was in a great deal of pain. Ginny had never seen him like that – had never thought it was possible to see him like that. He made it to his feet, and stood up straight, shrugging off the hands of the thugs guarding him as he looked at Claire defiantly, daring her to order another round.
Claire looked down at Ginny, took in her expression of horror and the tears that had started to run down her face, and turned back to James.
“Again. And again. And again. Don’t stop, James,” Claire ordered shrilly, releasing her grip on Ginny, and walking over to where James stood. James smiled, nodding maliciously before pointing his wand at his victim again, casting the Unforgivable Curse yet again. As she watched the curse strike him dead in the chest and as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain, emitting strangled screams, Ginny found her voice.
“What aren’t you fighting back?” she cried out. “You’re Draco bloody Malfoy – you don’t let anyone push you around! Why aren’t you doing anything to stop this?”
He was struggling to stand up again, and as he lifted his head, he smiled at her. Before he could stand, James hit him again, causing him to collapse to the floor with another shriek of agony.
“Stop this! Claire, this isn’t going to fix your brother! You have nothing to gain from this,” Ginny yelled desperately, overwhelmed by how helpless she was. She struggled against the magical bonds around her wrists, crying out as they began to burn against her skin. “Revenge won’t get you what you want!”
“I just want him to feel the same way my brother did,” Claire said, her voice detached and distant. She was entranced by the sight before her, as James hit Malfoy with another curse. Mark and Sean had moved away from their perimeter around Malfoy, and Ginny could see them exchange dubious glances, both looking rather green from what they were witnessing. They obviously had underestimated their ability to witness this kind of torture. “Again, James.”
But James was looking rather worse for wear. He was panting, and was doubled over, obviously rather exhausted from the toll the curse was taking on him. He didn’t have the stamina to keep it up.
“I need a minute,” he gasped. Malfoy, meanwhile, had managed to push himself up to his knees. Looking at him, sitting on his knees on the floor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, blood now gushing from his nose as he gasped in pain, Ginny felt as if she’d been physically struck. “It wasn’t supposed to take this many times to break him.”
“DO IT AGAIN!” Claire shrieked, and James weakly complied, and down Malfoy went again. Claire watched, her eyes lit with wonder, as he writhed on the floor. But the curse was short-lived, and all too soon, he was pushing himself back up. She let out a shriek of outrage, and stomped forward towards him.
“Have you not had enough of this yet, Malfoy? Just beg for mercy, beg me to let you go, to make it stop, just like David did, and it can all stop. You just have to beg,” she spat at him. He rolled his eyes up to look at her with contempt, before fixing his eyes back on Ginny, and making another move to stand up.
“Just do it, Malfoy. Please, I can’t watch this anymore,” Ginny cried, her voice breaking. She was openly sobbing now. Malfoy stared at her with that same probing look that always made her feel so vulnerable and naked, as if he could see every facet of her being, and shocked the hell at her as he scowled at her.
“I thought I told you to close your eyes. Stubborn little weasel, when will you ever do as you’re told?” he asked fondly. Claire screamed in outraged.
“I can’t stand you two anymore!” she cried out, looking around her desperately. Ginny saw her pick up one of the heavy wooden desk chairs, and as she stomped her way back over to Malfoy, raising it over her head, Ginny’s body moved of its own volition. She jumped to her feet, and dove forward, knocking Malfoy over as she landed on top of him just as Claire swung the chair at them.
A mighty crash and the sound of splintering wood filled her ears, and she screamed in pain as it struck her ribcage. The wind knocked out of her, she struggled to suck enough air into her lungs despite the sharp pain washing over her body. Her face was pressed against Malfoy’s chest, and he struggled to lift himself up but her body weight was pinning him down. She cried out again as he moved too swiftly, aggravating her injuries.
Claire was standing over them, a splintered piece of wood still clutched in her hand. She looked half-crazed, her eyes wide and unblinking, even as tears streamed down her face. As Malfoy managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position, with Ginny cradled in his lap as he hunched over her protectively, he glared up at Claire, a furious look in his eyes.
“Why?” Claire whispered in shock, addressing Ginny. “After everything… why would you do that? For him?”
“Claire! There’s a light out there, someone’s coming towards the school!” Mark called out from where he was standing at the window.
Claire stood still, as if she hadn’t heard them. She was staring at the sight of Ginny and Malfoy, both injured and exhausted yet more than willing to stand their ground, and was frozen as if she was in a trance. Ginny finally made a move, wriggling her way out of the shelter that Malfoy had formed with his body, in an apparent attempt to shield her from further attacks. As she sat up, she grew dizzy, and had to lean back against Malfoy’s chest, which was rather awkward, considering her hands were still bound behind her back. She glared up at Claire.
“You’d never understand. I don’t even understand most of the time,” Ginny muttered, and Claire, looking deeply disturbed, just shook her head uncomprehendingly. She dropped the broken chair leg, letting it clatter to the ground, breaking the loaded silence that had fallen over the room as she stared at them, uncomprehendingly. Slowly, looking as batty as Hogwart’s Headmaster, she walked away, muttering to herself. Mark and Sean dashed forward, taking her arms and steering their unseeing ringleader towards the door, discussing ways out of the castle that would ensure they wouldn’t get caught. James followed behind them slowly, still wheezing from the exertion his repeated attempts to curse Malfoy.
As soon as they’d gotten far enough away, Ginny felt the binding spell on her hands dissipate, and she collapsed backwards in relief, covering her face with her hands. She expected to hit the floor, but a pair of arms wrapped around her, holding her up, pulling her close. Shifting his body, and showing remarkable strength for someone who’d just had the snot cursed out of him, he pulled her into his lap so he could see her.
“Are you hurt? Stupid girl, did you break anything?” he asked gruffly, masking his concern for her as his hands ran carefully along her sides, checking to see if anything had been broken. “You’re lucky I don’t break your neck for that stupid stunt.”
“You’re welcome,” she said blithely. Suddenly, the whole situation struck her as incredibly hilarious, and she started to laugh. Throwing her head back and just laughing with all the energy she had left, she let go of the death grip she’d had on Malfoy’s shoulders (that she wasn’t even aware she’d had), and tumbled backwards. As she hit the floor, she just giggled uncontrollably, ignoring the stabbing pain in her side and the throbbing of her hands. Covering her mouth, attempting to stem her laughter, she realized that her hands were badly shaking.
With a prolonged grown, Malfoy slowly lowered himself to the ground, propping himself up on one elbow as he leaned over Ginny, his eyes scanning over her as if trying to determine if she were injured. He reached down with his other hand, and brushed a stray hair out of her face, stroking her cheek gently as he did. He frowned as he trained his eyes on her hands, still covering her mouth as she tried to stifle the laughter that was swiftly becoming hysterical. Carefully, even as she flinched and tried to pull it away from him, he took her right hand, lifting it up to inspect the damage she’d done to herself while locked in the wardrobe.
“If they’ve been courteous enough to leave my wand lying around here somewhere, I can fix that up for you. If not, you’ll just have to hang on a bit longer,” he said, as he gingerly stroked her fingers with his thumb.
“I’ll be fine,” she choked out, between giggles.
He leaned closer, pressing his palm against hers, fanning her fingers out as if he were comparing them. He smiled down at her with half-lidded eyes, the first indication of just how exhausted he truly was and how much of a toll the Cruciatus Curse had taken on him.
“You have such small hands,” he murmured with wonderment.
Suddenly, she was crying uncontrollably, unable to stem the flood of tears or the sobs wracking her body. Malfoy looked down at her as if she was barking mad, and seemed unsure what he’d done to cause such a reaction. She tried, feebly, to push him away as she struggled to sit up.
“Why? Why did you come? You knew it was a trap, you knew that they wanted to hurt you. Why did you come, you incredible idiot?” she cried out, a burst of anger overwhelming her just as suddenly as her tears had. Malfoy sat up so that that were on an even level, and he reached forward, and roughly pulled her against him. Once again, her body reacted unconsciously and she buried her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, relaxing against his body as his arms wrapped around her, pressing her tightly against his body. As she cried, he stroked her hair soothingly while the other arm remained firmly wrapped around her waist.
“If you have to ask me, then I’m not going to tell you,” he murmured softly into her hair. The warmth of his breath against her neck and the wonderful safety she felt as he held her had lulled her enough to stop her tears, and it took a few moments for his words to register. As soon as they did, however, she pulled away, her eyes blazing furiously.
“What do you mean by that?” she demanded. Malfoy laughed, and before she could open her mouth again, he leaned in and kissed her tentatively. Her eyes instantly slid shut as she remember the wondrous thrill of the second time he’d kissed her, and the flurry of pleasure that stirred in her stomach was a welcome relief from her various aches and pains that that night had brought. Over far too soon, he pulled away slowly and Ginny was about to protest, but figuring that the he had, after all, come to her rescue, decided not to chastise him. Placing a hand against her cheek and brushing his fingers gently over the bruise she’d received from the snowball the day before, he bit his lip as if he was trying to decide what he wanted to say.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. About the pictures,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. Feeling as if she were about to start crying again, she just leaned forward until she was resting her head against his shoulder, reveling in the knowledge that she literally had someone to lean on. “Especially as it turns out that it was my fault, anyway.”
“Thank you for coming, even if you knew it was a trap,” she murmured. Her body felt limp and she realized just how hard it was getting to keep her eyes open.
“Have you figured it out yet, little weasel? Why I came?” he whispered, as he wrapped his arms around her again, sighing contentedly as she fit against his body. He was stroking her hair again, and Ginny could care less what he had to say, she was too comfortable and sleepy.
“Because they tried to take what was yours?” she asked, only half-serious. She could feel Malfoy smiling against her neck.
“Because I’m in love with you, silly girl,” he said off-handedly. Ginny chuckled softly, not quite registering the meaning of what he’d said. Malfoy moved to disentangle their bodies, gingerly pushing himself to his feet. She looked up at him, disappointed to lose his body’s warmth. It was then that the fact that he still had quite a bit of blood on his face registered in her mind, and she remembered everything he had gone through, how he’d been repeatedly tortured with an Unforgivable Curse. She started to shiver.
“What did you just say?” she chattered. Malfoy just rolled his eyes in exasperation and reached down, and with a loud groan, he helped Ginny to her feet.
“I’m an unfortunate fool who has fallen in love with someone who is quite possibly the most stubborn and difficult girl in the wizarding world,” he said, meeting her gaze. Setting an arm around her waist to help her walk as she made a move to do the same for him, he paused. “That stubborn, difficult girl would be you, weasel. Appreciate this moment, for there are thousands of witches who would kill to be in your shoes right now.”
“Wanker,” Ginny muttered. Too much had happened in such a short span – she was just emotionally incapable of processing this newest development. “If you are quite finished with the self-aggrandizing, I would really not like to have to spend any more time in this blasted room than necessary.”
“Wait, just one more thing,” he said. He spotted his wand on the ground near the door, and releasing his hold on Ginny, he walked forward, picking it up. He turned back towards Ginny, a mischievous smile on his face, before he pointed it at the wall on the far end of the classroom. Ginny watched him through her haze of exhaustion, slightly confused, until he muttered a spell, and a blast of energy shot from his wand. A second later, the wardrobe where she’d been trapped erupted into a million wooden shards, effectively destroying the wooden prison that had been her torture for hours that night. “Now we can go home.”
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Author’s Notes:
1) Claire’s backstory, about her brother, comes from both the manga and the live-action drama, which handles that whole situation very differently. In the manga, the character was seeking revenge for a friend who’d been attacked by the “Draco” character. In the live-action, it was a scorned girl who’d been teased by him and his friends, and THAT character fused the original one from the manga with another character. If that’s not confusing, the best way to describe what I’ve done here is to say that I combined both of them into MY character, making Claire the product of about 4 separate characters.
2) The major plot points of this chapter – Claire convincing Draco to help her find out the truth, Crabbe and Goyle helping Ginny out, Claire kidnapping Ginny and holding her hostage until Draco comes alone, are all drawn from the HYD plot. Also, the ultimatum that he not defend himself or else Ginny would suffer, him telling her to close her eyes, and the way she threw himself in front of him when Claire went for the chair are from HYD as well.
3) While it sounds like a great deal of this chapter comes from HYD, I have taken some major liberties with that plot, sketching out my own character tweaks. While Claire’s backstory is from the manga and the dorama, everything to do with her brother and Malfoy’s history with him is a product of my own twisted mind. Everything other than what I’ve mentioned is safe to assume came from me.
4) Thanks for being patient with me. I know I don't update as frequently as other authors, but I try to make up for it by writing longer chapters. The next update may be a while in coming, as I've signed up for the DG Fic-exchange, so that will take up my time devoted to fic-writing for awhile, but I hope it won't be as long for the next update. And thanks to those who review, I read every single one (sometimes more than once) and they mean a great deal to me. See you next chapter!
“You have to go back there,” Crabbe called, as he rushed to follow his friend, who was storming away. Draco halted abruptly in his tracks, stopping and turning around to face the two that had followed him so quickly that they nearly ran into him. His face was impassive as stone. “You know you have to go back there, right?”
“I don’t think I do,” Draco answered coolly.
“You’ve just fed the girl to the wolves – your wolves, I might add. The least you could do is listen to her explanation,” Goyle said exasperatedly, blocking off Draco’s path as he tried to walk away from his two friends.
“I don’t see any reason why I should. Besides, why do you care about it?” Draco demanded angrily. The fuse of his temper had already been lit; they could tell that it was just waiting to blow, and neither wanted to be the catalyst that set it off. But they were friends, and because of that friendship, they had certain rights. They were among the very few who were allowed to challenge him when his stubborn mind wouldn’t listen to reason.
“Because you yelled at us,” Crabbe answered immediately. “You yelled at us because of her, for teasing her about being seen with another guy. You jumped up and defended her honour and you yelled at us. And now you won’t give her a chance?”
“Doesn’t seem right, that’s all. You owe it to us to go and talk to her. Besides, are you mental? This is Pansy Parkinson we’re talking about here. She created that first round of photos, the one from that party, and they were complete bollocks – why should this time be any different? I thought you’d be smarter than to fall into one of her pathetic schemes,” Goyle added slyly, shooting Crabbe a knowing look. When in doubt, challenge his pride.
“Enough!” Draco shouted furiously, before storming off. Crabbe and Goyle watched in dismayed silence as he marched away. They looked at each other and shrugged, more used to their friend’s self-destructive behaviour than they cared to admit.
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Ginny stood up shakily, trying to brush off the snow that had caked into the folds of her skirt, and looked around her warily. It was times like this that when she was truly grateful she grew up in a chaotic household, where she was far more than out-numbered by all her brothers who enjoyed teasing their only sister every opportunity they had. Reacting more instinctively than anything, Ginny had cast a few well-aimed Bat Bogey Hexes, and the rest of the crowd had backed off almost immediately as her victims shrieked from the curses’ effects. After that, they’d satisfied their need for bullying with a few rounds of snowball attacks before her frantic hexing sucked all the fun out of it.
And now, she was all alone in the middle of that icy field, her left eye throbbing from where that first snowball had struck, along with a few other welts from being pelted. She took a deep breath, releasing it slowly while combating the urge to just sink back down in the snow. She didn’t know what to do next; she didn’t know where to go or who she should talk to. She didn’t even know if it was safe to go anywhere – every student at the school was her enemy. Once again.
“Why wouldn’t he just listen to me?” she muttered pitifully to herself, as she bent down to gather her bag, which had been dropped and disregarded as the newest crisis in her life had begun.
“Ginny! Are you alright?” she heard an anxious voice call out. Claire was running towards her, prancing gingerly through the snowy patches on the grass as she made her way towards her friend. “I heard about what happened from some of the other Ravenclaws!”
“Oh, I’m just peachy,” Ginny laughed bitterly. Claire knelt down in front of her, examining her face, grimacing as she spotted the swelling around her left eye. “Can’t you tell just by looking at me?”
“You’re bleeding!” Claire cried, reaching out tentatively to Ginny’s face. Ginny flinched, ducking away, her face stinging already from the snow ball. “Oh, what are you going to do about this? What actually happened? Are those photos for real?”
“I don’t know,” Ginny said softly, a far-off look in her eye. She shuddered as the memory of that morning crossed her mind, and then forced herself to stand up, brushing away the snow clinging to her clothing. “But you can be sure that I’m going to find out.”
“What did Malfoy say about it?” Claire asked seriously. Ginny let out a sound of frustration.
“Nothing. The arrogant git just walked away, he wouldn’t even listen to my explanation. Besides, it has nothing to do with him anyway,” Ginny stated angrily. Then she sighed, her emotions bouncing back and forth between anger and despair. “Why wouldn’t he just listen to me?”
“You mean, there is an explanation for how you ended up in bed with someone else?” his voice called out. Freezing on the spot, her heart leaping into her throat, Ginny turned around slowly and felt as if a million butterflies were released into her stomach as she saw Draco Malfoy, glaring at her stone-facedly, standing a few feet away from her, his arms crossed in front of him confrontationally. “An explanation that would make all of this a giant misunderstanding?”
“Of course there’s an explanation, but you walked away so you don’t get to hear it anymore. I don’t give second chances,” Ginny cried defensively.
“What a coincidence, neither do I. You betray me once, and I never let you do it again,” he said accusatorily.
“Betray you? I betrayed you? You’re the one who just finished spouting all that bollocks this afternoon about how you ‘look after you own’ and yet, the very first change you have to prove if you’re actually sincere about it, you turn and run away!” Ginny shouted, her eyes burning with unshed tears as she struggled to maintain a grip on her emotions. Malfoy flinched slightly as she shouted, and looked away from her. “You’re nothing but a coward, Draco Malfoy!”
“Ginny! Don’t you think you’re being a little unfair to Draco here?” Claire asked, her voice sounding shocked. Ginny looked at her friend in confusion. Unfair? He was the one who had turned around and walked away, after making such a big fuss about her being “his” and taking care of his own, even if “they” didn’t like it. “You’re his girlfriend, what is he supposed to think when he sees this kind of picture? It’s only natural to need time before wanting to listen to your explanation.”
“I’m not his girlfriend!” Ginny snapped, while staring at Claire as if she’d never met the girl before. After everything that Malfoy had put Claire through, just for the indiscretion of speaking to Ginny while she’d been given a Howler, Claire was taking his side?
“You should tell him your side of the story. I mean, he came here to hear it, didn’t he?” Claire said, her voice quietly authoritative. Ginny watched as the tall, blond girl bent down into the show, and picked up one of the discarded photographs, now streaked from the snow. As Ginny took in the distorted image of her and the unnamed stranger, she felt another wave of nausea threatening. Ginny gaped at her friend, all the while feeling horribly betrayed, as she had walked towards Malfoy, putting her hand on his arm in a show of solidarity. Malfoy just glared at her and nonchalantly shrugged her hand away. "Think about it from his perspective - all he sees are these photos, and they ARE rather incriminating. That IS you in the photo and it does look like you are with someone else. Another boy. How did you happen to be in this picture? What happened that night?”
Ginny was barely paying attention to what she was saying. She was too busy staring at Malfoy, who was looking anywhere but at her. She could see his eyes flick towards her, but he refused to look at her, preferring to watch her out of the corner of his eye as he focused on the area above her shoulder. It made her furious - he was the one who was always watching her, always causing her to jump and get flustered every time she felt those ever-observant eyes on her ALL THE TIME, and now he was refusing to look at her? Suffering under the injustice of it all, situations that she had no control over, Ginny decided that she didn't care if he hated her, she didn't care if he never spoke to her again or if he sent all of his minions after her for her supposed betrayal, but dammit, he was going to look at her.
"I mean, Ginny... how could you do this to him?" Claire asked, her voice chastising. Ginny's head snapped away from Malfoy, and she turned to her friend, an expression of utter disbelief on her face as she felt something deep inside her break. She was tired; tired of being unable to rely on anyone, tired of being constantly disappointed when those she thought she could trust let her down, tired of the world she lived in and how deceptive and twisted it all was.
"By all means, of COURSE he's the victim here," Ginny cried, the echo of despair in her voice drawing Malfoy's eyes to her even as she looked away from him. "I'm the stupid, horrible girl who committed the terrible crime of going to a dance club with a group of friends, who doesn't know what happened that night or where those pictures came from."
"Ginny..." Claire said sadly. Ginny ignored her, taking a step forward. Malfoy was looking at her now, those grey eyes cold and unreadable as always, but they were looking at her now. She was blinking, trying not to cry, determined to say all that she had to say before her voice broke.
"I am sixteen years old and I woke up in a hotel room this morning, with no memory of how I got there, or any idea what happened. I've been hoping, every single second of this day, that I would wake up and that this would all be some kind of terrible nightmare and that the absolutely sick feeling," she said, her voice breaking. She paused, trying to swallow the large lump in her throat, taking a deep breath as she struggled to continue, "that this sick feeling of NOT KNOWING what happened would go away. But, by all means, HE is the victim here."
"That's your explanation?" he said, his voice low, his eyes unflinchingly locked on hers.
"Haven't you been listening? I don't HAVE an explanation. I'm sorry if your precious pride may have been hurt by all this, but it's nothing compared to the horror of not knowing if what you think happened really did happen or not," she cried, her voice adamant. "Let me tell you this. I am going to find out what happened and I don't care what you think about it because it has NOTHING to do with you. I need to know for the sake of my own sanity!"
Ignoring Claire's cries of sympathy, she carefully gathered her things and slowly walked away, feeling the weight of his eyes on her the entire time. Claire ran a few steps behind her, but gave up when she ignored her repeated calls. Turning back to face Malfoy, she just shrugged her shoulders hopelessly. Mafloy stared after her, seemingly lost in thought.
"Well, that settles that then," he said quietly, as if to himself. Then, with a start, as if he just realized that Claire was standing in front of him as if waiting further explanation, he shot her a cold look, before walking the in the opposite direction, followed by Crabbe and Goyle.
"Wait!" she cried, running after him.
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After wasting time in front of the mirror at home, trying to remember whatever charm Malfoy had used the day that he'd healed the laceration on her forehead after the incident with the Whomping Willow, Ginny had dashed off to the Three Broomsticks to meet Hermione. The left side of her face, particularly underneath her eye, was a lovely shade of redish-purple, and she had a giant scrape down her cheekbone and nothing she had tried would make it appear any less apparent. She would just have to make sure Rosmerta didn't see her - she could just hear her mother's reaction to hearing about this, because there was no way Rosmerta wouldn't contact her immediately. It would be bad enough dealing with Hermione.
But she needed her. Hermione, that is. Because, while Hermione could lash out with her temper and act according to her emotions instead of reason, she was still the most rational and cautious person Ginny had ever met. She could think clearly in a crisis, could formulate plans and solutions when everyone else was still caught up in being emotional and most importantly, she was analytical. She could analyze situations and see connections that others would overlook. Clutching one of the crumpled photos she'd taken with her that afternoon in her hand, Ginny planned on using Hermione's intellect to help her figure this whole thing out. That is, so long as she didn't expire from the lengthy, slightly hysterical lecture she was bound to get first. The one problem with seeking Hermione's help was that she'd have to tell her friend what had happened, how stupid she'd been, and that would undoubtedly lead to demands that she inform her parents.
"Well, I guess my first questions would be, who on earth took these photos to begin with?" Hermione asked, her brow furrowed in concentration as she examined the photo Ginny had handed her. Still feeling slightly stunned over the lack of lecturing or rebuking she'd received, Ginny felt a surge of affection for her best friend. When she'd greeted her as she was leaving the restaurant at the end of her shift, Hermione had taken one look at her face, grabbed her hand and led her away from the restaurant. After she'd worriedly demanded to know if Ginny was alright, she sat back and listened quietly as Ginny explained the whole sordid mess. As soon as she'd finished speaking, Hermione had just said, "Well, this is obviously just a bunch of rubbish. Let me see that photo." Remembering how earlier that day, Ginny had felt hopeless over the fact that it seemed like there was no one she could count on, and wondered how she could have possibly overlooked the frightfully dependable Hermione.
"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, leaning forward, trying to see what it was in the photo that Hermione was fixated on. Hermione looked up, her eyes shining with discovery.
"Well, there's the two of you in the photo, which means that there was a third person in the room, the person who took it. That means there's someone out there who knew what was going on, someone else that was in the room," Hermione explained.
"But why would anyone want to take those photos to begin with? I mean, unless this is some sort of set-up." Hermione gave her a pointed look. "But why?"
"Is it common for wizards to use Muggle film? Every picture in the paper and everywhere I've seen in Hogsmeade always use moving wizards' pictures - even the paintings," Hermione commented.
"No, it's not..." Ginny said softly. She sighed heavily, dropping her head into her hands. "Because the film replicates not just your image but who you are and how you are reacting in the moment the picture is taken... if it was a wizards' picture, it would show my reaction, movement. Well, knowing me, you probably wouldn't be able to see me at all, because my image would try to get as far out of the frame as possible. There are very few people at my school who are even aware of Muggle pictures, beyond the simple knowledge that they don't move. They wouldn't have any idea how to get the film, how to get it developped, any of this. Certainly not any of the Slytherins – they wouldn’t ever want to touch something from Muggle origins, they think it would contaminate their very being."
"Who do you think is behind all of this? Because it seems to me that someone is definitely trying to set you up," Hermione said, her voice so full of certainty that the tight band of nausea that Ginny had been feeling since she'd woken up finally eased slightly. Hermione was an intelligent girl who was hardly ever wrong and this fact made Ginny all the more receptive to her certainty.
"My first thought would be Parkinson. After all, she is the one who passed them out to everyone, who confronted me and showed them to Malfoy," Ginny said grimly, remembering that incident with a shudder. The look in his eyes... she couldn't get it out of her head. She tried to shrug it off, needing to focus on the moment. "But it's not really her style. She's all bluster and bark, there's rarely any bite to her threats. Plus, the girl would rather die than be associated with anything Muggle-related."
"Who else does that leave, then?" Hermione prodded. Ginny shook her head, unable to think of who would want to do this to her. While she was well-aware that she was rather despised by most of the students at the school, she found it hard to believe that any of them would go this far - especially if it meant upsetting the mighty Draco Malfoy, who they were normally breaking their backs trying to please. Given the way they'd all flocked to her, seeking her approval, as soon as they thought she was going out with him, she found it hard to believe that any of them would be brave enough to try anything like this, and risk his wrath.
Of course, considering his wrath was aimed directly at Ginny, perhaps it was just a rather ingenious plan that had worked perfectly.
"I can't think of anyone. I don't think there's anyone out there who hates me enough to upset Malfoy like this." Hermione's head snapped up at this comment, and she looked at Ginny as if she'd just been struck with an epiphany. She jumped up, grabbing her robe as she moved towards the door.
"Ginny! The boy, the one you danced with - do you think this is him in the picture?" she asked quickly. Ginny looked down, biting her lip nervously before nodding.
"You can't see his face, but that's the only answer I've been able to come up with," she said, her face burning hot with shame. No matter how much of a 'set-up' this incident was appearing to be, confessing that she didn't know who was in the photograph with her was still embarrassing.
"You said his uncle owns All Hallows'. We're going there, to ask him some questions," Hermione stated, gesturing for Ginny to grab her robe. Ginny shot out of her hair.
"I don't want to go anywhere near him!" she cried.
"I understand, but he may be able to give us some answers, so we'll know what actually happened!" Hermione said. Ginny met her friend's eyes with her words still ringing in her ears and nearly burst into tears. Hermione had said "us" and not "you" and with that simple sentence, had told her that they were now in this together, and that it wasn't just Ginny's problem anymore. She had an ally, someone she could depend on. Shaking off the memory that this wasn't the first time that day she'd felt that way only to be proven wrong, Ginny nodded and gathered her things.
"You just have to promise you'll keep me from cursing him. Or, that you'll help me curse him, I haven't decided which yet," she mumbled, as they headed out the door.
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"Why are you following me?" Draco snapped viciously, as he stopped and turned suddenly, causing Claire to almost run into him. Flustered, she began to stutter nervously as she attempted to explain herself, hardly able to meet the furious pair of eyes bearing down on her.
"I just thought that... with what Ginny said... maybe you'd want to find out for yourself?" she stammered. Looking up, she drew a deep breath and tried to speak confidently. "I mean, she doesn't know what happened, but someone out there has to. What about the other person in the photo, what about the staff at the bar or the hotel? Someone must have seen them... I think it's the only way to know one way or the other, and like Ginny said, for the sake of your sanity!"
"You're her friend, aren't you? Why aren't you following her?" he snapped. Staring at the blond girl in front of him who was cringing at his words, he sighed in exasperation. He needed to be alone with his thoughts, not deflecting the attentions of a weak, terrified girl with a flawed sense of loyalty.
"I just want to help somehow. Ginny took off on a rampage, and with the way that she is, it's hard to think of her as actually needing help. She wouldn't accept it anyway. She could take on the whole world single-handedly if she had to," Claire said, looking down at the ground as she fidgeted, before glancing back up at Draco, her eyes hopeful. "That's probably what you like about her, after all, but it can be rather frustrating just standing on the sidelines, unable to do anything... and you just looked like you were going to... do something."
"What exactly do you think I would do in this situation?" he asked coolly. Claire visibly paled and looked about her wildly, as if expecting the answer to appear out of thin air.
"Well... I've heard the stories... about what happened with your last girlfriend and what you did to the boy she was cheating on you with..." Claire trailed off uncertainly, sensing a dangerous feeling in the air.
"You mean the inherently foolish piece of trash who actually tried to take what was mine while laughing at me behind my back? The one who is now a permanent resident in Saint Mungo's, a fitting punishment for daring to take what was mine? Is that what you are referring to?" he asked tersely, his eyes dark and dangerous. Claire almost buckled under the weight of his glare and backed away. "This situation is completely different."
"Really?" she asked, her face brightening, striking an odd note with Draco as he watched her. "How is this different? I mean, I'm glad you see it that way, for Ginny's sake, but... to me, it seems as if it's the same."
"Remind again me why you've followed me," Draco ordered, frowning suspiciously.
"I told you, I'm just trying to help," Claire exclaimed defensively.
"Then do your friend a favour and keep your mouth shut," he said angrily. It was hard enough keeping a grip on his anger - his desire to just destroy something, anything - with the image of her with someone else floating around in his head. Her reminding him of that incident and comparing it to this one certainly wasn't very helpful. The very thought of it made his blood begin to boil. "And stop following me."
"I think I know where that picture was taken!" Claire cried as he started to rush away. "We can go there, and ask a few questions, find out if anyone saw them. At the very least, you might get a name to put with the other person in the picture."
He stopped, a breathless moment of suspense for Claire as she wondered what he would do. When he turned back around, she smiled in relief. It had worked.
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Hogsmeade was a city where the rich and powerful ruled supreme. As they demanded that their every whim and unreasonable demand was met, they unknowingly created a network of those they looked down on. The bartenders, the waitresses, the servants; they all relied on each other, gossiped about the rich behind their backs and traded favours whenever possible. A union of sorts, bound together by their disdain for the ones who thought themselves superior. This was how Ginny and Hermione found themselves talking their way into All Hallows', joking with the servers who were setting up for what was promising to be a very busy Friday night.
“Oh, that Parkinson girl! You don’t need to say anything more about her!” Jeremy Morgan, a friend of her brother Charlie’s, was saying as he lugged a case of Butterbeer behind the bar. “She was a holy terror here the other night. If I remember correctly, I saw you giving her a hard time, young lady.”
“Yeah, Pansy and I don’t really see eye-to-eye on pretty much anything there is to disagree about. Did you see that guy confront her? I never caught his name, but he threatened to have security remove her and everything, it was beautiful!” Ginny exclaimed breezily, forcing herself to sound jovial and carefree.
“That was Justin. I sent him over there when I spotted the trouble. Gotta look out for Charlie’s kid sister, after all,” Jeremy said with a smile, ducking beneath the counter for a moment. Ginny closed her eyes, flinching against this new piece of information. Good intentions, why did they always seem to have such terrible consequences in her life? “He’s the boss’ nephew, so he doesn’t have to watch what he says to that harpy.”
“Well, thanks for the help! I could have taken her all by myself, but it’s nice to know I have someone looking out for me,” Ginny said, casting Hermione a pointed look to indicate that she was going in for the kill. “Hey, do you know where I can find Justin? I never got a chance to thank him for coming to the rescue.”
“Uh, yeah. I think he’s working tonight, he should be somewhere around here. Check out back, he’s probably doing some inventory. If anyone stops you, just tell them I said it was alright,” he said, with a teasing smile. “Never thought that the only Weasley girl, the little terror that ordered around her big brothers, would fall for all that chivalry nonsense.”
“I’m just going to say thank you,” Ginny said coyly, ignoring the stirrings of nausea in her stomach. She gestured to Hermione to follow her, waving goodbye to Jeremy. As they walked down the hallway, Hermione reached out and grabbed her hand, trying to comfort her.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she whispered. Ginny sighed heavily, before squeezing her friend’s hand reassuringly.
“At this point, I don’t think I have a choice,” she said softly. “But thank you.”
They stepped out through the back door, and saw a group of guys standing around in a circle, talking loudly and laughing. Ginny felt a jolt run through her body when she saw the one from that night, Justin, standing with his back to them. Instinctually, she reached into her pocket, her fingers squeezing tightly around her wand. She inhaled deeply and prepared herself.
“Hey Justin!” she called out, summoning every ounce of her courage to keep her wand in her pocket. He turned around, still laughing at some comment his friends made, and froze when he saw her. It was only for a moment, but Ginny could see his surprise at seeing her there, before he quickly covered it with a smile she assumed was meant to be charming. It made her feel sick.
“Well, if it isn’t the redhead from last night. Why did you take off so suddenly this morning?” he asked, slinking towards her and Hermione with an infuriatingly arrogant swagger. Before she could think, her wand was out of her pocket, and she was cursing that idiot with his arrogant swagger with a full-body binding spell. He groaned, and fell backwards with a thud. His friends laughed in surprise, figuring it was some kind of joke and having sensed no danger from the petite redhead, they assumed it was just another angry ex-girlfriend.
“Ginny!” Hermione protested. Ginny ignored her, and marched forward with determination, kneeling down over Justin, whose eyes were darting back and forth furiously as he tried to figure out what had happened.
“I have put in a full-body binding curse. That’s why you can’t move,” she said coldly. “But there’s a bit of a fun twist on the curse I used, because I’m pretty much the only person who can end the spell, unless by some miracle the reincarnation of Dumbledore or someone similarly powerful comes along and is able to figure out how I cast it and can reverse it – which, let’s face it, that’s not bloody likely. I have a few questions to ask you, but I guess you already knew that.”
She pointed her wand at his face menacingly, feeling a delicious sense of power. For the first time in weeks, she was in control of a situation and that knowledge brought her nothing more than a blessed sensation of relief. His panicked eyes met hers, obviously thinking she was insane. She murmured a spell, releasing the curse’s hold on his mouth, allowing him to speak.
“Get away from me, you psychotic witch!” he screamed, causing his friends who were still hovering around, watching the scene, to howl with laughter.
“Careful what you say, or you’re going to lose your speaking privileges again,” Ginny said lightly, with a veiled threat in her voice.
Hermione bent down beside her, holding out one of the photos Ginny had brought with her.
“Who is the photographer?” Hermione asked. “That’s all we want to know, and she’ll let you go.”
“If you’re nice,” Ginny muttered darkly.
“Look, I just did what the girl paid me to do,” he exclaimed. It took every ounce of her willpower to keep from standing up and placing a few well-aimed kicks to his ribcage.
“Yeah, you’re going to have to elaborate on that,” Ginny demanded viciously.
“Courtney – her name is Courtney. She’s a regular here, and she asked to help her get some photos that would cause a bit of a scandal, that’s all!” he cried. Ginny glanced at Hermione, sharing a similar hopeful thought that she barely dared to think.
“Just photos?” she demanded, her voice desperate. Justin met her eyes and looked away.
“Just photos. She had me slip something into your drink and bring you to the hotel so she could take the pictures. I didn’t ask why, she paid me enough to keep me from asking too many questions. I just thought it was some kind of girl-drama revenge plot or something,” he cried. Ginny stood up, needing to get away.
“Well, you’re a real stand-up guy, I hope you were paid handsomely to become a soulless cretin,” she said, disgusted. She started to walk away, hearing him protest that she hadn’t released him from the curse yet. She turned around, and in the same breath she cancelled the spell, she cast her patented Bat Bogey Hex, feeling a small sense of satisfaction as she heard him shriek in surprise.
She made it all the way around the corner and out of sight of her audience before she started running, running until she couldn’t anymore, collapsing to the ground in relief, half-sobbing and half-laughing. Just photos, he’d said. As horrible as that was, it was so much better than everything that she’d been so afraid of. The giant ball of fear and nausea that had been sitting in her stomach since she’d opened her eyes that morning was finally dissolving. Gasping for breath and feeling the telltale rush of saliva to her mouth, she crouched in the corner, and vomited.
By the time she had finished retching, Hermione had caught up to her, looking relieved to have found her. She knelt down beside her friend, hugging her tightly, sharing in her relief. Ginny smiled, a genuine smile, feeling empty of the demons she’d woken up with. She leaned back against the concrete wall behind her, breathing easily, closing her eyes and wanting nothing more than to sleep for weeks.
“Who is Courtney?” Hermione asked, and Ginny laughed, a bitter and weary laugh.
“I should care, I really should. I don’t know any Courtneys and I should be furiously trying to figure out who she is and why she wanted those damn pictures in the first place… but I’m just so tired,” Ginny said quietly. “I’ve got the answer I wanted for now, the rest can wait until the morning.”
“You are quite the feisty one – Greg, remind me never to cross a redhead, especially one with some scarily adept cursing skills,” Crabbe’s voice called out, sounding highly amused. Looking up in surprise, the two girls were faced with Crabbe and Goyle standing in front of them.
“It’s no wonder why Draco has developed quite a thing for you,” Goyle commented. “You’ve got a temper and a vindictive streak that matches his.”
“What are you two doing here?” Ginny demanded, standing up on shaky limbs, praying that they didn’t just see her throw up, not wanting them to see her in such a moment of weakness.
“Because someone is trying to mess with our friend, using his decidedly obvious weak spot – the weak spot being you, Weasley – against him. And when Draco gets all stroppy, he tends to take it out on us. Plus, there’s the fact that only a idiot, which Draco can be from time to time, would ever believe that you would be the type of girl to do that,” Crabbe said.
“We’re here to help you figure this out, and clear your name so that Draco doesn’t start terrorizing the entire wizarding world because he’s an immature idiot with a bad temper,” Goyle said.
“Unless you know a girl named Courtney, there’s not much you can help me with,” Ginny said, feeling rather shocked by this sudden occurrence, that Draco Malfoy’s best friends would show up and offer to help her. She was even more surprised when they exchanged knowing glances.
“We know quite a few Courtneys,” Crabbe said, arching his eyebrow, reminding Ginny that these two were not only Draco Malfoy’s best friends, but they were also, inexplicably, the most notorious playboys in the school. “What else can you tell us about her?”
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“I didn’t think you would come!” Claire exclaimed happily, trotting forwards as she spotted his tall form striding towards her. He’d ordered her to meet him at noon, and it was now an hour past that, but she hadn’t given up hope that he would eventually show up. Her exuberance wasn’t at all deterred by the cold glare he greeted her with. Draco breezed past her, barely acknowledging her as he strode forward, marching into the lobby of the hotel. Once he was inside, out of the cold, he paused, waiting for her to catch up.
He wasn’t going to show up. He had never intended to, he’d just wanted the annoying blond girl to leave him alone, to get away from her pestering before he lost all control of his temper. He’d spent a rather long, sleepless night dwelling on the events of the day before. Parts of Weasley’s speech kept running through his mind, and that combined with the image of her bruised and tear-streaked face had made it almost impossible to think of anything else. He wanted to dwell on his anger, to allow it to sweep over him so he could forget the other emotion that was plaguing him, the way it just burned all of his senses to see her with someone else that way, but instead, he was left with nothing more than a heavy sense of guilt. She had a point; he had turned his back.
But the stroppy little witch had made a fool of him! And if he was going to feel guilty about it, then he was damn well going to get to the bottom of the entire mess, so that he could just hate her in peace, without feeling that he had done anything wrong. He wanted to be absolved of all guilt in the matter. It had been this desire, the need to free himself from feeling any responsibility for the stupid girl so that he could focus on his anger without the image of her looking so sad and broken constantly replaying itself in his mind, that had lead him to meet her friend outside the hotel that morning.
The whole situation was rather cruel – if he was right, then he’d been wrong about the one girl he thought was different from everyone else in his life, the one he thought was worth caring about. But if he was wrong, then he had turned his back on the one girl he thought was worth caring about. A definite Catch-22. Either way, it wasn’t going to end well, and despite the knowledge that knowing was going to be just as horrible as not knowing, he still needed to know. So that he could go back to being nice and numb with rage. It kept him from feeling, and right now, with her words floating around in his head, he wanted nothing more than blissful numbness.
“I’ve already checked in with the staff, and one of them was on duty Thursday night. We should start by talking to him,” that annoying friend of Weasley’s said earnestly as she caught up with him. Draco narrowed his eyes suspiciously.
“Do we even know that this happened Thursday night?” he muttered to himself. Something was definitely out of place when it came to her. She claimed that she was Weasley’s friend, but she seemed to be taking this matter a little too lightly, almost as if it were all some kind of game to her. She was definitely hiding something, a little too transparently for Draco’s liking. But it didn’t matter, she was just a means to an end, anyway. She had the connections, she claimed she knew the bastard that was in the photograph, so he needed her around.
“Come on, he’s at the front counter. We can probably even get him to check the records, to see who checked in that night,” she exclaimed, trotting off.
“I thought you said you had a name for me. That’s all I want,” Draco said, reluctantly following after her. She turned and smiled sheepishly at him.
“Well, I said I knew who it was, but the truth is that it’s only an idea. I overheard the girls that went to the club with Ginny talking about something that happened that night and so I have an idea of who it might be, so I want to look into it before I tell you, just in case it’s the wrong one. I mean, given your history in these matters, it’s safer for everyone involved, don’t you think?” she answered. Draco glared at her and fought to control his temper. He needed her, he repeated to himself, and cursing the girl for her repeated demonstrations of stupidity wasn’t the best way to get the information he needed from her.
“Don’t ever bring that up again,” he said threateningly. She looked up at him, her blue eyes wide with concern.
“Oh, you’re right, how terrible of me. I should stop reminding you of that, it must be terrible to hear about it, especially when it seems to be happening all over again. But look, there he is! Marcus!” she called out, waving at a uniformed clerk standing behind the marble front counter, who looked up and then seemed to do a double take as he recognized that Draco Malfoy was now standing with the girl who’d been grilling him an hour earlier about what he might have seen.
“Were you able to check the record from that night I asked about?” the annoying blond girl asked in what looked like a pathetic attempt to work her charm on the witless slug behind the counter, who was all but drooling in response as she batted her eyelashes.
“Oh, of course! As it turns out, it was a really slow night – just the usual types of things; last minute check-ins from some Ministry officials and the like. But there was one name that stands out, that I think is what you’re looking for…” he said excitedly, stumbling over his words as he spoke, his eyes never looking away from hers. As he slid a piece of parchment across the counter to her, his eyes glanced up and he seemed to jump with the recognition that the Draco Malfoy was looming grumpily behind the girl he was trying to impress. Eyes wide with panic, he backed a few steps away, staring down at the counter. Draco, despite himself, felt a faint glimmer of satisfaction that his mere presence was enough to instill fear among the witless.
“I see…” she was saying, valiantly trying to appear crestfallen. “The name, the one that I promised I’d give you if we had any proof of it being him? We have proof now… it was Justin Hallow, he was the one who is in the photograph.”
She was holding out the piece of parchment, which contained a register of names and their check-in times. Row after row of scrawled signatures and times lay in front of him, but near the bottom, beside a hand-written 12:32 am, was the name that she’d mentioned. The nephew of the old man who owned All Hallows’, a man who knew his father very well.
Justin Hallow. Well, now he had a name. Turning away, Draco found that he felt rather numb. Still holding the piece of parchment in his hands and ignoring the clerk’s pleas that he needed to have it returned, Draco was surprised that he didn’t feel the firestorm of anger he’d anticipated. Rather, he was numb – and even more surprisingly, he was calm.
He walked out into the street, ignoring the chirping of that annoying girl as she followed him out, cooing over his now broken heart and shattered illusions about the bloody Weasley idiot. He did have tangible proof now, and that should have made everything all the more real, yet all he could do was stare at that blasted piece of parchment in his hands.
“Draco, I’m really sorry about this. I wanted to prove that Ginny was innocent, that what she was saying this afternoon wasn’t just a bunch of lies. But I guess now… now we know what she really is,” she said, her eyes misty with tears. Draco watched her performance curiously, wondering why she was addressing him by his first name and why she was still talking to him. He was finished with her now; she’d served her purpose.
“And what is that?” he asked tersely.
“You must be so upset, to be taken in by her performance and the way that she tried to use you like that,” she said, her voice soft and breathy as she stared up at him with her big blue eyes.
“Yes, all of her repeated declarations of eternal hatred really did make for quite a convincing attempt to lure me into her clutches,” Draco said. Apparently impervious to sarcasm, she tried to make her move, placing one hand on his shoulder and leaning towards him. He allowed her a second to believe that he’d fallen into her trap before viciously shrugged away from her touch.
“Don’t ever touch me,” he snapped viciously. She looked surprised, but not the least bit chagrined, and she made a move to step closer to him and Draco just turned and walked away. She called after him, but he ignored her, desperate to be alone with his thoughts. Still clutching the incriminating piece of parchment, the annoying girl had certainly given him a lot of things to think over. Even as he walked away, though, the numbness he’d felt earlier began to drain away, leaving his limbs feeling heavy and a spark of fury igniting deep within him. He needed time alone to process everything.
But first, he had plans. There were a whole lot of pictures he never wanted to see again waiting to be burned.
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Through the haze of exhaustion, both physical and emotional, Ginny found herself listening to the conversation taking place in front of her with a strange detachment, wondering what sort of alternate universe she’d found her way into, that Crabbe and Goyle would be sitting at a table with her, trying to help her out. If someone had told her a month ago that she’d be sitting there now, with two of the most popular Slytherins, who were voluntarily sitting with her in a bid to assist her with a rather serious problem, she would have laughed in their face and advised them to give up their drug habits, as it was obviously addling their sense of reality.
“What about Courtney Jones? The brunette we met on the French Riviera last summer break?” Crabbe suggested, a wicked grin on his face.
“She wasn’t a brunette, mate. She was blonde, and she was probably in her thirties. I doubt our Weasley friend here would have attracted the wrath of anyone that much older than her,” Goyle had countered. “What about Courtney Harper? The girl from Durmstrang?”
“I don’t know anyone who would even consider going to Durmstrang, let alone who does,” Ginny said, crisply, shaking herself out of her stupor. “Not exactly my circle in society, if you catch my drift.”
“Right. Goyle, know any girls named Courtney who are self-righteous little Gryffindors who tend to get a little snarky with fellows who are only trying to help? Is that more suited to your social circle, Weasley?” Crabbe said, glowering slightly at her.
“I just don’t know anyone by that name who would want to do this to me,” Ginny cried, finally growing too frustrated at the maze of suggestions that didn’t lead to any answers. They’d been at it for hours, and Ginny didn’t think she could stomach any more of the anecdotal way they were recalling the names of all the Courtneys they’d come in contact with. She’d been observing them closely in between bouts of lucidity, and she still did not understand why they were as popular as they were. They were nice enough, but they didn’t compare to the other Slytherins, such as Blaise Zabini… and Malfoy.
“Ginny, maybe it’s time to stop thinking that they were trying to do this to you. Does Malfoy know any Courtneys who’d want to get back at him for something?” Hermione asked exasperatedly, sending the assembled group into a stunned silence. She’d been swooping by the table intermittently between orders, trying to cover tables at the Three Broomsticks without leaving Ginny alone with the two of them, and it was obvious that her patience had worn thin with the back-slapping and knowing looks the two were occupying themselves with as they scrolled through their list of names.
“Have you ever met Draco? There are many people by many names who want to get back at him for many things,” Goyle answered her, casting Crabbe a knowing look. “Hell, if weren’t friends, I’d probably want to take a crack at him myself.”
“Lovely. So, I’m basically looking for a needle in a haystack,” Ginny sighed, heavily.
“Not, but the Mudblood’s right – it’s entirely possible that this has more to do with Draco than it does with you. That would explain why you don’t know any Courtneys,” Goyle said thoughtfully, as Ginny bristled at the offhand way he threw out the derogatory term.
“Don’t call her that!” Ginny snapped, the control she was keeping on her emotions brittle at best. Goyle looked at her, clearly perplexed, as if he didn’t understand what she was upset about. After a moment, realization seemed to set in, and he shrugged sheepishly.
“Right, forgot you were one of those politically-correct-overly-sensitive types,” he said, sounding completely unremorseful. He turned to Crabbe. “In any case, I think we should go and have a chat with Draco and warn the sulky little princess that he should be on the lookout while he’s embarking on his rampaging tantrums.”
They quickly said goodbye and left the restaurant, and Ginny slumped forward, laying her head down on the table. After her confrontation with Justin and their unexpected intervention, Hermione had insisted they give the “poor girl” a night to herself before meeting again to ponder the identity of this mysterious Courtney. While Ginny appreciated her friend’s concern, she hadn’t been able to sleep at all. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts and worries that wouldn’t leave her alone, no matter how much she needed the reprieve.
She had claimed that it didn’t matter what he thought, but now that she had the answer, now that the gnawing weight of fear had been eased, she discovered that it was all that she did care about. She’d told him in no uncertain terms to bugger off, and he’d just laughed it off. She’d turned him into a giant canary. When she’d spent a night frozen with terror and barely able to breathe because of her claustrophobia, he’d held her hand the whole time and listened without comment. But now he wouldn’t look at her.
As Hermione sat down next to her and placed a comforting arm on her shoulder, Ginny asked herself why his reaction would bother her so much. Hadn’t she already learned, so long ago, that there were no heroes, no noble characters who came through for the heroine just in the nick of time, no self-sacrificing gestures - at least not in this world. Just because Malfoy had a strange habit of appearing whenever she seemed to be in trouble, and claimed he looked after his own, it was hardly reason enough to think he would be any different. His reaction was exactly what she should have expected, but she couldn’t tell if she was upset by him, or just upset because she’d allowed herself to hope he might act differently.
“Did your friend Claire tell you she was planning on meeting with Malfoy this afternoon?” Hermione asked quietly. Ginny lifted her head, feeling dazed. “I just saw them across the town square. She’d been waiting for quite a while, and I was wondering what she was doing out there, when he just showed up.”
“Hopefully not making things worse,” Ginny said softly, recalling the way Claire had acted the other day during her confrontation with Malfoy. “I told you what she said to him the other day, right?”
“Maybe you should pay her a visit tonight, find out what’s going on there,” Hermione suggested.
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“So now I’m trying to figure out who this Courtney girl is and why she would want to do something like this to me, because I’m fairly certain I’ve never even met a Courtney,” Ginny explained wearily after finishing the dregs of the cup of tea Clair had served her. After an afternoon with Crabbe and Goyle reminiscing about their various female conquests (what was it with those two and women?), Hermione trying to gain some type of useful information from them, and Ginny just trying to keep herself on her feet, she had very little energy left. But she had to know why Claire had been meeting with Malfoy, she had to know if he’d learned anything new…
“Maybe you’ve already met her and don’t even know it. It’s not that difficult to use a fake name, even around here where everyone is so paranoid about being caught by a Death Eater without their papers,” Claire said knowingly.
“Even so, why me?” Ginny asked ruefully. She sighed heavily, and had to bite back a yawn. Her vision began to swim a bit, and she had to blink to clear her sight, her body suddenly feeling very heavy. She stretched her arms out above her head, stretching, trying to rouse her tired body, and then smiled at Claire sheepishly. “Sorry, I’ve just been completely wiped out by all of this. I want nothing more than to just go home and sleep for about a week… At least sleeping will help me forget about this whole mess, and make me stop asking so many questions.”
“Oh, I think you’re going to be asking yourself a lot of questions for a long time about this,” Claire said, standing up. The tone of her voice had changed so suddenly, from that of a sympathetic friend to something completely different. She would have sounded amused, if it hadn’t been for the sharp edge to her tone that had Ginny’s head snapping up in confusion. She had to squint to see her, her vision had become rather blurry, but Claire was standing over her, watching her expectantly, with a rather cruel smile on her face.
“Claire?” Ginny asked, extremely confused. The teacup she’d been holding slipped from her fingers, and clattered against the table, and Ginny nearly tumbled after it. She grabbed the edge of the table, finding purchase enough to hold herself up.
“For instance, you’re going to ask yourself why you ever decided to play a bloody hero that day in the Great Hall, and why that need you have to stand up for others ruined all of my plans, and caused this entire mess to happen. You were never supposed to be involved, but you stuck your nose in anyway and almost ruined everything! And you are also going to wonder how, for someone who seems so smart, you fell for the same trick twice. Didn’t you learn the other night not to accept drinks from other people?” she snapped viciously. Ginny gasped, a cold jolt hitting her hard in the stomach as she realized what Claire was saying.
“It was you? You’re the girl who paid for him to… it was you?” she asked, feeling dizzy and weak. “And now, what did you put in my tea? Why did you drug me?”
“If you hadn’t been just too damn stubborn to duck your head out of the way, I never would have had to involve you, but now… now you’ve become too useful to my goal, and I have no choice,” Claire said. Ginny tried to croak out another question, but the world was spinning too much and her head was just so heavy, she couldn’t hold it up any longer. The last thing she remembered was the coolness of the table’s surface as she slumped forward.
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They really had meant to go straight to Draco’s house after they left the Weasley girl and her friend. The serious mousy-haired Mudblood had been pretty convincing in her belief that there really could be someone after Draco, but as they’d left the restaurant, they’d been sidetracked by a couple of the girls they’d encountered the night before. A few minutes’ flirtation had turned into a full afternoon, and it was almost midnight by the time they finally made their way over to the Malfoy estate. As they were shown through the gate, they were nearly bowled over by their best friend as he brushed past them, seemingly unaware of their presence until they called out to them.
“Draco! Where are you headed at this hour?” Goyle asked, catching Draco’s arm as he passed, pulling him to stop. Draco violently shrugged off his friend’s arm, pushing him back. Crabbe and Goyle shot each other a look, immediately able to sense that something was seriously wrong. Draco hadn’t said a word yet, but it was written all over him, from the intensity in his eyes, to the jittery way he began pacing around, as if he were a lion trapped in a cage. “What’s going on?”
“I have to go somewhere,” Draco answered, his tone inviting no objections. Goyle thought back to the mudblood’s words about how Draco might actually be the one in trouble, and he realized she was probably very right about that. And that they were probably a little late in showing up.
“We’ll come with you,” Crabbe spoke up. “You look like you’re heading into a fight, and with that temper of yours, you should have us around to keep you from doing something really stupid.”
“No, I have to go alone,” Draco said distractedly. He was clutching a piece of parchment in his right hand and he was pacing around like a caged animal, circling around, seemingly unable to stop. He was agitated, it was clear, and the air of intensity surrounding him was almost suffocating. His friends could tell that it was completely unwise to let him go anywhere alone. He seemed more upset than when Parkinson had presented him with the photos of Weasley and that wanker from All Hallows’.
Goyle stepped forward, determined to try again, and grabbed him by the arm, halting his agitated pacing.
“You’re not going anywhere without us, and certainly not until you tell us what the hell is going on with you,” he said, in a tone that would have brokered no argument, had he been speaking to anyone other than Draco Malfoy. Draco stared at him, dead in the eye, but after a few minutes, realizing that his usual scare tactics wouldn’t work on those who had never been afraid of him, Draco relented.
“I have to go to the school. I left my broomstick there, and if I don’t go get it right now, there’s no way to tell what will happen to it. And I have to go alone,” he said, his voice quiet despite the intensity.
“If it’s just a broomstick, it’s not worth all this nonsense for it! You can always get another one, it’s not the end of the world,” Crabbe said, dismissing his reason with a scoff. Goyle, who had broken Draco’s eye contact, remained silent, sensing that there was a great deal more than just a broomstick at stake.
“But it’s my broomstick, and I can’t just leave it to fend for itself. They might break it. Even if it is stupid, difficult and slow and jerks to the left when I want it to go right, it’s still mine,” Draco snapped furiously. “Now let go of me, I have to go.”
“What’s really going on?” Goyle asked, eyeing the piece of parchment Draco was clenching in his fist. Draco followed his gaze, and his hand involuntarily tightened around the crumpled wad, turning his knuckles white.
“I have to go now,” he said, pushing Goyle away, much more violently than before. Goyle stumbled away, caught off guard by the sudden movement, and after a few attempts to regain his balance, he tumbled heavily to the ground.
“Malfoy! What the hell, mate?” Crabbe yelled, stalking towards Draco as he moved towards the gate. Crabbe grabbed at him, but Draco swiftly dodged him, ducking out of the way and dashing towards the street. With a look over his shoulder, Draco saw Crabbe and Goyle regrouping and knew they’d follow him. Without any further thought, he pulled out his wand and cast a curse, immobilizing his best friends with a flash of white light that neither of them saw coming. Draco didn’t look back as he took off at a dead run.
“What the bloody hell was that about?” Crabbe muttered, through his magically-gritted teeth, as both lay motionless on the ground, neither able to move much more than their mouths and eyes.
“That Mudblood girl was right – they were using Weasley to get to Draco. It worked, and we were too late.”
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Claire sighed impatiently, tapping her wand against a desk, trying to tune out the sound of her hostage furiously smashing against the walls of the wardrobe they’d locked her in after Ginny had practically twisted off Claire’s arm as she struggled against her captors. Remembering the girl’s odd reaction when Professor Snape had sent her in there to fight a Boggart, Claire had decided that it might subdue the furious witch, who’d been nothing but unexpectedly difficult since she’d been roused from the potion Claire had drugged her with.
“If you keep banging around in there, you’re just going to hurt yourself. Promise to stay quiet like a good little girl and maybe we’ll let you out,” Claire called out, hoping to put an end to the infernal banging. She needed to concentrate, to stay on top of her game. It was all going to come down to this – three years of anger and hatred had lead her to this night, and she needed everything to go right
She walked over to the wardrobe and leaned against it. She frowned, unsure why Ginny was practically sobbing. Claire could hear her hands scratching along the doors, as if trying to find a way out.
“Honestly, Ginny, it’s just a closet. What’s so horrible about being in there for a few hours? You know, this really had nothing to do with you in the first place – you’re just the bait.”
“Bait for what?” her muffled voice asked, granting Claire a relief from the banging. Her relief was tempered by the sharp edge of hysteria in Ginny’s voice, evident even through the thick walls of the wardrobe, which grated her ears.
“Why, your boyfriend, of course! I told you that I had to rethink my entire plan when you came along and ruined everything. But I’m actually glad of it, as this is a much more suitable arrangement. A form of poetic justice, if you will. Right about now, he should be receiving an owl, demanding that he meet us here, alone, should he not want anything to happen to you,” Claire explained coyly. “Oh, and in the note, I put that perfect Muggle Polaroid photograph that we took of you while we were trying to shove you in the wardrobe – a little visual incentive, if you will.”
Claire glanced over at the other boys – all three of them friends of her older brother, and smiled widely. Mark and Sean were still nursing the nasty scratches to their face they’d received as Ginny had tried to claw herself free as they tried to force her into the wardrobe, kicking and screaming like a cat being forced into a lake, and James was hovering by the door, anxiously awaiting their guest of honour’s arrival.
“He’s not my boyfriend. That’s the flaw in your whole plan, Claire. You made him hate me; remember the way he looked at me yesterday?” Ginny asked, her voice was quiet and weak. “There’s no way he’d ever come after that. He’ll probably applaud your threat as the best way to get his revenge without sullying his designer robes. This is just another opportunity for him to walk away.”
Ginny’s voice was barely above a whisper, but even through the thickness of the wood, Claire could hear how despondent she was. For that second, she almost relented, remembering that Ginny was the only person that whole school who had been nice to her, and she was the one who’d defended her – twice – without regard for her own safety. And had forgiven her after she’d turned her back on her. But then, she remembered the reason she was there, why they were all there, and her resolve hardened once again.
“You better hope that he shows, or you are going to be spending a lot of time in there,” Claire snapped cruelly. Ginny took a few sobbing breaths that Claire could hear clearly, and then the hysterical smashing began again with a renewed fervor.
“Claire, I’m getting tired of this,” Sean said. “Why are we even waiting here? Let’s go get him and get this over with! Enough of this nutty plan of yours.”
“It’s not at all a nutty plan, as you will soon see. It’s actually quite brilliant because it mirrors what happened last time, but instead, he’s going to be the one who suffers. It’s my chance to make it right,” Claire said, her voice drifting off as her eyes clouded with memory.
“Just as long as that bastard shows up and we get a chance to make him pay,” Mark said threateningly. Claire smiled knowingly.
“Of course.”
“But he’s not going to come! He’s not, I know he’s not, he has no reason to!” Ginny started calling out, her voice desperate and tight with panic, echoing with an irrational amount of fear that began to grate of Claire’s nerves. Her attempts to smash open the door became furious, as she began to cry out her pleas to be released, punctuated by the sound of her fists banging against the heavy door. “You have to let me out here, please please let me out, please!”
Claire turned back to the wardrobe and kicked at the door, her head ringing with all the noise of Ginny’s shrieking cries.
“Just shut up, already!” Claire yelled. “This is all your own fault anyway, if you hadn’t interfered, if you hadn’t been so bloody stubborn… I mean, in any other circumstances, you would probably appreciate what we’re trying to do here, but because all you did was interfere and get in the way, you’ve brought this on yourself!”
“Now remember, she’s a Gryffindor, don’t begrudge her her one talent. As a whole, they’re not an overly talented group,” Draco Malfoy’s voice said. Though low and rough, it cut through Ginny’s cries and pulled all attention in the room to him, freezing Claire to the spot. Sean and Mark jumped to attention, holding out their wands threateningly as they moved in towards him. Claire turned slowly, determined to stay in control of the situation, as she spotted James moving in behind Malfoy. They had him surrounded. Even so, she flinched involuntarily as she met his eyes. While he was standing docilely as Sean and Mark grabbed his arms and searched his pockets for any hidden wands, Claire could see the well of rage that was boiling just below the surface. It was barely hidden; all you had to do was look him in the eye, and you’d see exactly how dangerously furious he truly was. It was exactly what Claire had been hoping for.
Mark found his wand, and fishing it out of his pocket, he tossed it away. It landed on the floor with a dull clatter that was nearly drowned out by Ginny’s banging and thrashing.
“Let her out. I came, I’m alone. Now let her go,” Malfoy said, his voice full of authority. Claire felt her temper erupt as she took in the arrogance of his tone. He was trapped, out-numbered, defenseless and alone, and he was still barking orders as if he had the right.
“And what if I don’t?” she snapped viciously, vindictively planning to keep Ginny locked in there as long as it took to crush the arrogance from Malfoy, if that was what it was going to take. Malfoy met her eyes and, despite the fact that he was surrounded and had three wands hostilely pointed at him, he moved forward, his eyes dark and intent.
“If you don’t let her out right now, I am going to kill you where you stand,” he said, his voice incredibly calm and infused with so much conviction that it made Claire utterly certain that he was entirely capable of doing what he threatened, despite his current state of captivity. Shaking slightly as a shiver ran down her spine, Claire glanced over at Mark and nodded slightly. Sighing loudly, and moving as slowly as possible, just to demonstrate that although the others in the room may be terrified of him, that didn’t mean that they were completely inclined to do as he said, Mark backed away from Malfoy and walked resignedly towards the wardrobe, where Ginny’s squealing and thrashing against the door had reached a feverish pitch.
With a grunt, Mark removed the locking spell they’d put in place to hold the fiery girl, and the heavy wooden door was violently flung open as a tangle of flailing limbs burst out of the small dark space, tackling Mark, clawing him out of her way. Tumbling forward as Mark dashed out of the way, eager to save his own skin, Claire had to look away as she caught a glimpse at Ginny, sprawled on her knees on the dusty classroom floor, drawing heaving breaths as if she’d just fought a battle to the death.
Her hands and knuckles were raw and bloody from her repeated attempts to smash her way through the wooden panels of her prison, and there were streaks of blood along her face. Coupled with the bruises from the incident at the Quidditch pitch the day before, she looked horrible. Her face had a transparent sheen to it, from the sweat that had plastered her wild hair along her forehead and neck, and she was gasping for air as she leaned forward, putting her weight on her injured hands, almost bowing to the floor as she took in the fact that she had been freed. She looked up, and Claire felt a knot of guilt tighten in her stomach – her eyes were positively wild with fear, and it seemed as if she had no idea where she was. She was lost in the world of her own terror.
A strangled cry of outrage erupted from Malfoy, and he darted forward, but Sean and James grabbed his arms and held him back. Their restraint was short-lived, however, as Malfoy effortlessly shrugged them off, and killed any new attempts to regain their hold of the Malfoy heir with a deadly look which froze them in their tracks. Walking forward slowly, as if approaching a crazed and wild animal, Malfoy knelt down when he was a few feet away from the gasping and trembling girl on the floor.
“Weasley,” he said, his voice gentle. Claire watched the scene with a sick fascination, wondering if the person who had appeared in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was the real Draco Malfoy, for how was it possible that the boy who’d done all that he’d done could have such tenderness in his voice? “Weasley, look at me. Look at me.”
Ginny’s wild eyes looked up at his through the mess of hair that had fallen into her face, and as their eyes met, her panicked breathing seemed to slow to a normal rhythm. He reached out a tentative hand, brushing the stray hair out of the way and pulled it away as she flinched, ducking out of the way as if she’d been struck. He held her gaze, however, and gradually, as she stared back at him with uncomprehending eyes, the haze of terror and confusion around her seemed to dissipate, and she came back to herself.
“No way,” she gasped in disbelief, her voice hoarse from all her screaming. “You… you actually came?”
Feeling that the happy couple had had enough of a reunion, Claire strolled over to Ginny, grabbing her shoulder with a tight grip, pressing her nails into the skin, making the weakened girl hiss in pain. Mark and Sean jumped to action, grabbing for Malfoy, restraining him as they pulled him to his feet. Claire smiled wickedly; it was all coming together, everything that she’d wanted. Soon, he’d be the one lying on the floor, bleeding and begging for mercy, and all of this would have been worth it for that alone. With her other hand, she pulled out a vial of glittering charcoal-coloured liquid and held it up.
“Do you know what this is, Malfoy? I’m sure a wizard from a family such as yours is more than familiar with its properties,” she said acidly as James stepped forward, and cast a magical restraint on Malfoy’s hands, binding them behind his back. Malfoy’s eyes flicked to the vial she was holding up over Ginny’s head, and there was a split-second of recognition that betrayed a flash of fear, before he was staring straight ahead, locking his eyes on Ginny Weasley, who was whispering the words “he actually came” over and over again under her breath, lost in a daze of amazement. “This is a lovely concoction that Death Eaters discovered during the war, which they aptly named Witch’s Spit. Do you know why they named it that?”
“If this is going to be yet another one of those long, prolonged speeches examining history for yet more evidence that Death Eaters tend to have rather misogynistic views, you can save it, because I’ve heard it all before,” Malfoy answered, with a sigh of boredom. Claire smiled; a cold, cruel smile. They had no idea what she had planned for them. Her first step was going to be wiping that smug look off of Malfoy’s face, no matter the cost, even if that cost was the pretty face of Ginny Weasley.
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She was sure she was going to die. The walls had been caving in on her, and no matter how hard she pushed against them, clawed against them, it made no difference. She was stuck in a small, small space and it was going to kill her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except scream to be let out.
Sweat was burning her eyes, causing tears to run down her face, causing the cut across her cheek to sting. Her hands were screaming in pain every time she smashed her fists against the wall, hoping to find a way out before the walls caved in and she died. It was going to kill her. She couldn’t breathe and she was going to suffocate in that small dark space, a victim of her own fear.
Until the door cracked open, and she was suddenly tumbling out into the open, into the light. Oblivious to everything except the blissful freshness of the air and the comforting feeling of largeness about the room she was in, all she cared about was breathing and that no one came close enough to put her back in that small dark space. Never again.
Through the haze of her terror, she heard a voice calling her name. Her hands were throbbing, but she couldn’t move because then they’d see her, and if they saw her, they might force her to go back. She shook it off, focusing on breathing. But he called again, and she looked up, her frayed nerves making her jump at the noise.
She met a pair of grey eyes staring at her, staring right through her. Familiar eyes, eyes that knew because they saw everything there was to see. They were furious, but not at her. Furious because of what had been done to her, furious that they hadn’t been there to stop it.
“Look at me,” he commanded, unnecessarily, because in that moment, she knew she never wanted to look anywhere else.
A jolt of recognition ran through her. Draco Malfoy. It was Draco Malfoy, kneeling in front of her, staring at her with a mixture of rage and concern, his voice tenderly commanding her to look at him.
“No way,” she breathed, shocked. After everything that had happened, after the way he’d looked at her the other day, and he’d actually come? “You… you actually came?”
Unable to look away from the one sight that was keeping her terror at bay, Ginny was surprised to notice that tears were running down her face. Hours of being shut in the darkness with her own fear, feeling as if she were completely alone and abandoned, never daring to hope that he’d be stupid enough to come, and here he was. Staring at her, saying her name and smiling at her with that hint of a teasing grin that made the butterflies in her stomach dance furiously, Draco Malfoy had actually come to her rescue.
The sharp pain of nails digging into her skin ripped her from the wonderment of her realization, drawing her violently back down to earth. Struggling against the hazy confusion that the remains of her panic attack had left, she tried to focus on what was being said by her captor, but his eyes were still on her, and she knew that no matter what happened, he would make sure she would never have to go back in that wardrobe ever again. The look in his eyes was promise enough.
“They named it Witch’s Spit because it is one of few magical substances that can actually melt skin. They claimed it had the same acidic properties of the words that come out of an angry witch’s mouth. Clever lot, don’t you think? Didn’t stop them from using it a few dozen times during Voldemort’s Revolution – they prefer it because it can disfigure its victim’s face into something horribly unrecognizable as human without killing that person. There’s no way to reverse the process, they are just stuck that way forever. Quite a way to send a message, don’t you think?” Claire’s voice, so unfamiliarly cold now, was saying. Ginny’s foggy brain suddenly cleared, and everything snapped into place.
“What the hell are you doing here? Are you a complete idiot? Don’t you know that this was just a stupid trap?” Ginny shouted at Malfoy, who scowled at her.
“Of course I knew it was a trap, you silly girl. As you’re the one who fell into the trap to begin with, I don’t think you should be asking me if I’m an idiot, because if anyone is an idiot in this situation, that would have to be you,” Malfoy sneered back at her.
“If you make any move, either to free yourself or try to defend yourself, I’m going to open this bottle and spill it all over your girlfriend’s face,” Claire threatened, her voice shrieking with the demand to be heard.
“I’m not his girlfriend,” Ginny snapped at the same time as Malfoy protested, “She’s not my girlfriend.”
“If I’m not your girlfriend, then why did you even come here? I would have been perfectly fine on my own without your help,” Ginny cried indignantly.
“Did you hear me? I’m going to use the entire contents of this vial on her if you even make a move to defend yourself!”
“Oh, I can see that. About ready to unleash some hidden Gryffindor talent none of us have witnessed and free yourself from a locked wardrobe, were you?” Malfoy asked, with his infuriating teasing smile that indicated that he didn’t believe a word she said. “If you were doing so well on your own, perhaps I should just leave then?”
“SHUT UP, both of you!!” Claire shrieked, the fact that her threats were being completely disregarded by her two captives finally shattering her patience. “You don’t seem to understand the situation here! I have an entire vial of Witch’s Spit hovering over your girlfriend’s head, and unless you want to spend the rest of your life staring at a scarred little mountain troll, you will SHUT UP!”
“I still can’t believe you were stupid enough to come here,” Ginny muttered under her breath, smiling slightly at the annoyed look Malfoy shot her. Claire’s grip on her shoulder was becoming rather unbearable, especially with the utter throbbing of her bleeding hands to bear as well. The largest of the three thugs Claire had recruited for whatever plot she’d been planning suddenly stood a few feet in front of Malfoy, blocking Ginny’s view of his face. Despite the death grip Claire had on her arm, Ginny struggled to move to the side, so she could see him. Claire held her back.
“Why are you doing this, Claire? What could Malfoy have possibly done to you to make you completely lose your mind?” Ginny asked. “I thought we were friends. Why are you doing this?”
“Why? WHY am I doing this? Why don’t you ask your boyfriend, Ginny? See if he has an answer for you,” Claire said, her voice so full of pain that it caused Ginny to twist her head up to try to meet her (former) friend’s face. “He won’t. He doesn’t even remember who I am.”
“Should I remember you? What’s your name again?” Malfoy spat his question. Ginny tried to shuffle to the side, desperate to see his face, but Claire’s grip remained tight and painful, not allowing her enough movement.
“Claire. Claire Carmichael. CLAIRE CARMICHAEL!” she shrieked, tears now running openly down her face. “Does that name not mean anything to you at all? CARMICHAEL!”
At her sudden hysteria, James stepped back, his wand still fully trained on Malfoy, but as he turned, he moved out of Ginny’s line of sight, and she could see Malfoy again. His jaw was clenched, and his eyes had grown dark and downcast. Ginny frowned, wondering what history there was between the two, and why Claire’s last name seemed to be having such a profound effect on Malfoy.
“You’re David Carmichael’s sister,” Malfoy said, his voice dull and flat. He was staring at the ground, seemingly unable to look up at Claire. Ginny’s mind reeled with this sudden development. “Aren’t you?”
"Yes, I am. All this time, and you didn't even recognize my name," Claire spat. Ginny, heedless of the painful restraint of Claire's grip, fidgeted, maneuvering herself closer to Malfoy, needing to gain a better view of his face. He'd grown pale, his eyes dark and impassive. "That's just part of your arrogance, the arrogance of the whole lot of you. You forget the names of those whose lives you've ruined as soon as you no longer have to see what you've done."
"You two know each other?" she asked, surprised. Malfoy's reaction to this new relevation was starting to scare her. He seemed... almost chastised, as if he were a repentant boy accepting a scolding because he knew he deserved it - wanted it, because then it would relieve him of the guilt.
"Your boyfriend and I have quite a sordid history, but mostly through association. Do you want to tell her, or should I?" Claire asked, her voice tinged with an edge of hysteria that gave her an almost genial demeanor.
"Leave her out of this. It has nothing to do with her," Malfoy ordered darkly. "You never should have involved her in the first place."
"Name a better way to get you where it hurts the most," Claire shot back defensively.
"Name a better way to ensure you end up exactly like your brother," Malfoy retorted, his eyes suddenly blazing with fury.
"Shut up! Don't you ever mention him!" Claire shrieked, as one of the boys guarding Malfoy turned and jabbed him in the stomach with his fist. Even as he jolted forward, as the air was knocked out of him, he didn't make a sound, and quickly recovered, straightening back up and facing Claire with the same impassive face and authoritative presence that he usually wore.
"What is going on here?" Ginny demanded slowly, trying to keep a tremble out of her voice. Her body was in shock from her ordeal in the wardrobe, and she was finding it difficult to keep from shivering uncontrollably.
"Do you remember the story I told you, about how he is the youngest person ever reported to have actually used the Cruciatus Curse on a human being? When he was only 14 years old? He got so angry with someone that he nearly killed him, but that because of who his father is, no one dared punish him for it?" Claire asked, her voiced hushed as she addressed Ginny. Ginny did recall the story that Claire had wide-eyedly recounted when Ginny had claimed that Malfoy had never done anything to justify the amount of fear people regarded him with.
"Yes, I remember. I didn't think it was actually true," Ginny said, with a quick glance at Malfoy. He was standing frozen as the conversation went on around him, staring at the ground in front of him. His eyes wouldn't meet Ginny's.
"It's almost true. I had to lie a bit because I didn't want you to think I knew more than I did. But I know only too well... The boy he almost killed was my brother. He and a group of his brainless followers grabbed him, and they held him down while Malfoy cursed him. Repeatedly," Claire spat out, her voice thick with emotion. "He was alone, wandless and out-numbered, and they nearly killed him. Do you want to know what it is my brother did to deserve that?"
"He took what was mine," Malfoy said, his voice terrifyingly cold. Ginny felt a jolt of fear seize her body, and as she looked at him, she finally understood why people could possibly be afraid of him. The air of ridiculousness that shrouded his arrogance and authority, that had given Ginny the courage to finally challenge him because she believed that he was ultimately harmless, had completely dissipated. Malfoy was glaring at Claire with an expression that spoke of such cold, furious rage that Ginny was amazed that Claire didn't turn and flee, just to get away from that look.
"He kissed your girlfriend!" Claire snapped furiously. "You were all fourteen years old! It could hardly have meant anything, and it didn't warrant what you did to him! You see, Ginny, even though they didn't kill David, they may as well have. Because he's probably going to spend the rest of his life at St Mungo's, unable to remember his own name."
"Claire, enough of this! Let's get on with it!" Mark grumbled, his eyes fixed on Malfoy.
"Yes, let's do that. Here's what we have planned for you. James, here, has been practising for almost two years, haven't you James? It only took a couple of months for him to learn the Cruciatus Curse, but he wanted to make sure it was quite right - as powerful and painful as possible, as befitting a Malfoy," Claire said, her voice rising with excitement.
"Rightly so," Malfoy commented arrogantly.
"If you make a single move to defend yourself or try to escape, I'm going to use this entire bottle of Witch's Spit to ensure that you never have to worry about someone trying to steal this pretty little girlfriend, because no one would ever want her after that," Claire threatened viciously.
"You can go right ahead and do it, because I have absolutely no intention of being used like this," Ginny exclaimed, struggling to her feet. Claire grabbed her wrist, sending a firestorm of pain from her injured hands running down her arm.
"That's my girl," Malfoy commented, with a proud smirk.
"I'm not 'yours', you ignorant baffoon. That kind of thinking is what got us here in the first place," Ginny snapped angrily, before she cried out in pain as Claire reached her breaking point and grabbed a fistful of Ginny's hair, snapping her head back.
"I've had ENOUGH of you two! James, what are you waiting for?? Get to it, already!" Claire screeched. Using that moment of distraction, Ginny tried to twist herself out of Claire's grip, ignoring the pain of her scalp at Claire's stranglehold on her long hair. Slipping free, Ginny made a triumphant dash of three steps before her hands were simultaneously pulled behind her back, and a strong magical bind wound itself around them. Claire had managed to cast a spell, magically binding her hands, even in the middle of the fray. As her injured hands were jostled together, a firestorm of pain traveled down her arm, and Ginny's knees gave out. She collapsed to the floor, gasping from the exertion and pain.
“Don’t try that again, Ginny! I swear I’ll use this whole bottle on you!” Claire shrieked. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been planning this? I had everything all arranged, and when I bumped into Malfoy that day in the Great Hall, it was all part of my plan! But you nearly ruined everything when you interfered. Who asked you to stand up for me?”
“I have to congratulate you on your acting abilities, at the very least, Claire. I actually believed you were my friend,” Ginny hissed between gasping breaths. The burning pain of her hands made her want to close her eyes and lay down, succumbing to the agony.
“Weasley,” Malfoy said, his voice so demanding that she looked up, slowly, as every movement caused her pain. His face was grey and pallid, and she frowned in confusion as she looked back at him, trying to understand what was going through his mind. He smiled at her, a slight and sad little smile, before he spoke again. “Close your eyes. I don’t want you looking at me with those red and puffy eyes of yours. Ghastly, really.”
Biting her lip and struggling to keep a fresh batch of tears at bay, she released a shaky breath and complied with his order. But not before she gave him one last, lingering look, trying to understand why. Why he had even come, why he hadn’t even tried to free himself yet. And why he was submitting to Claire’s demands.
“Go ahead James,” Claire said, her voice tinged with cruel excitement. Ginny, her eyes shut tightly, held her breath, her stomach clenching into knots, anticipating what she knew was going to come, what she was powerless to stop.
“Crucio,” James’ husky voice growled, and Ginny felt a wave of nausea, and had to squeeze her eyes shut as she heard the heard the rush of power leave his wand, and the strangled groan that escalated into a scream as it struck its victim. After a few seconds, silence fell over the room again, except for the sound of Malfoy gasping in pain.
“Again,” Claire demanded, her grip on Ginny growing stronger as she reveled in witnessing her captor’s pain. The second time, the screaming was more prolonged, and Ginny couldn’t stand not seeing what was happening. As she opened her eyes, she saw Draco Malfoy struggling to his feet. His eyes were bright, there was a thick sheen of perspiration on his forehead, and a tiny trickle of blood coming from his nose, and from the slow and deliberate way he was moving, he was in a great deal of pain. Ginny had never seen him like that – had never thought it was possible to see him like that. He made it to his feet, and stood up straight, shrugging off the hands of the thugs guarding him as he looked at Claire defiantly, daring her to order another round.
Claire looked down at Ginny, took in her expression of horror and the tears that had started to run down her face, and turned back to James.
“Again. And again. And again. Don’t stop, James,” Claire ordered shrilly, releasing her grip on Ginny, and walking over to where James stood. James smiled, nodding maliciously before pointing his wand at his victim again, casting the Unforgivable Curse yet again. As she watched the curse strike him dead in the chest and as he fell to the ground, writhing in pain, emitting strangled screams, Ginny found her voice.
“What aren’t you fighting back?” she cried out. “You’re Draco bloody Malfoy – you don’t let anyone push you around! Why aren’t you doing anything to stop this?”
He was struggling to stand up again, and as he lifted his head, he smiled at her. Before he could stand, James hit him again, causing him to collapse to the floor with another shriek of agony.
“Stop this! Claire, this isn’t going to fix your brother! You have nothing to gain from this,” Ginny yelled desperately, overwhelmed by how helpless she was. She struggled against the magical bonds around her wrists, crying out as they began to burn against her skin. “Revenge won’t get you what you want!”
“I just want him to feel the same way my brother did,” Claire said, her voice detached and distant. She was entranced by the sight before her, as James hit Malfoy with another curse. Mark and Sean had moved away from their perimeter around Malfoy, and Ginny could see them exchange dubious glances, both looking rather green from what they were witnessing. They obviously had underestimated their ability to witness this kind of torture. “Again, James.”
But James was looking rather worse for wear. He was panting, and was doubled over, obviously rather exhausted from the toll the curse was taking on him. He didn’t have the stamina to keep it up.
“I need a minute,” he gasped. Malfoy, meanwhile, had managed to push himself up to his knees. Looking at him, sitting on his knees on the floor of the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, blood now gushing from his nose as he gasped in pain, Ginny felt as if she’d been physically struck. “It wasn’t supposed to take this many times to break him.”
“DO IT AGAIN!” Claire shrieked, and James weakly complied, and down Malfoy went again. Claire watched, her eyes lit with wonder, as he writhed on the floor. But the curse was short-lived, and all too soon, he was pushing himself back up. She let out a shriek of outrage, and stomped forward towards him.
“Have you not had enough of this yet, Malfoy? Just beg for mercy, beg me to let you go, to make it stop, just like David did, and it can all stop. You just have to beg,” she spat at him. He rolled his eyes up to look at her with contempt, before fixing his eyes back on Ginny, and making another move to stand up.
“Just do it, Malfoy. Please, I can’t watch this anymore,” Ginny cried, her voice breaking. She was openly sobbing now. Malfoy stared at her with that same probing look that always made her feel so vulnerable and naked, as if he could see every facet of her being, and shocked the hell at her as he scowled at her.
“I thought I told you to close your eyes. Stubborn little weasel, when will you ever do as you’re told?” he asked fondly. Claire screamed in outraged.
“I can’t stand you two anymore!” she cried out, looking around her desperately. Ginny saw her pick up one of the heavy wooden desk chairs, and as she stomped her way back over to Malfoy, raising it over her head, Ginny’s body moved of its own volition. She jumped to her feet, and dove forward, knocking Malfoy over as she landed on top of him just as Claire swung the chair at them.
A mighty crash and the sound of splintering wood filled her ears, and she screamed in pain as it struck her ribcage. The wind knocked out of her, she struggled to suck enough air into her lungs despite the sharp pain washing over her body. Her face was pressed against Malfoy’s chest, and he struggled to lift himself up but her body weight was pinning him down. She cried out again as he moved too swiftly, aggravating her injuries.
Claire was standing over them, a splintered piece of wood still clutched in her hand. She looked half-crazed, her eyes wide and unblinking, even as tears streamed down her face. As Malfoy managed to maneuver himself into a sitting position, with Ginny cradled in his lap as he hunched over her protectively, he glared up at Claire, a furious look in his eyes.
“Why?” Claire whispered in shock, addressing Ginny. “After everything… why would you do that? For him?”
“Claire! There’s a light out there, someone’s coming towards the school!” Mark called out from where he was standing at the window.
Claire stood still, as if she hadn’t heard them. She was staring at the sight of Ginny and Malfoy, both injured and exhausted yet more than willing to stand their ground, and was frozen as if she was in a trance. Ginny finally made a move, wriggling her way out of the shelter that Malfoy had formed with his body, in an apparent attempt to shield her from further attacks. As she sat up, she grew dizzy, and had to lean back against Malfoy’s chest, which was rather awkward, considering her hands were still bound behind her back. She glared up at Claire.
“You’d never understand. I don’t even understand most of the time,” Ginny muttered, and Claire, looking deeply disturbed, just shook her head uncomprehendingly. She dropped the broken chair leg, letting it clatter to the ground, breaking the loaded silence that had fallen over the room as she stared at them, uncomprehendingly. Slowly, looking as batty as Hogwart’s Headmaster, she walked away, muttering to herself. Mark and Sean dashed forward, taking her arms and steering their unseeing ringleader towards the door, discussing ways out of the castle that would ensure they wouldn’t get caught. James followed behind them slowly, still wheezing from the exertion his repeated attempts to curse Malfoy.
As soon as they’d gotten far enough away, Ginny felt the binding spell on her hands dissipate, and she collapsed backwards in relief, covering her face with her hands. She expected to hit the floor, but a pair of arms wrapped around her, holding her up, pulling her close. Shifting his body, and showing remarkable strength for someone who’d just had the snot cursed out of him, he pulled her into his lap so he could see her.
“Are you hurt? Stupid girl, did you break anything?” he asked gruffly, masking his concern for her as his hands ran carefully along her sides, checking to see if anything had been broken. “You’re lucky I don’t break your neck for that stupid stunt.”
“You’re welcome,” she said blithely. Suddenly, the whole situation struck her as incredibly hilarious, and she started to laugh. Throwing her head back and just laughing with all the energy she had left, she let go of the death grip she’d had on Malfoy’s shoulders (that she wasn’t even aware she’d had), and tumbled backwards. As she hit the floor, she just giggled uncontrollably, ignoring the stabbing pain in her side and the throbbing of her hands. Covering her mouth, attempting to stem her laughter, she realized that her hands were badly shaking.
With a prolonged grown, Malfoy slowly lowered himself to the ground, propping himself up on one elbow as he leaned over Ginny, his eyes scanning over her as if trying to determine if she were injured. He reached down with his other hand, and brushed a stray hair out of her face, stroking her cheek gently as he did. He frowned as he trained his eyes on her hands, still covering her mouth as she tried to stifle the laughter that was swiftly becoming hysterical. Carefully, even as she flinched and tried to pull it away from him, he took her right hand, lifting it up to inspect the damage she’d done to herself while locked in the wardrobe.
“If they’ve been courteous enough to leave my wand lying around here somewhere, I can fix that up for you. If not, you’ll just have to hang on a bit longer,” he said, as he gingerly stroked her fingers with his thumb.
“I’ll be fine,” she choked out, between giggles.
He leaned closer, pressing his palm against hers, fanning her fingers out as if he were comparing them. He smiled down at her with half-lidded eyes, the first indication of just how exhausted he truly was and how much of a toll the Cruciatus Curse had taken on him.
“You have such small hands,” he murmured with wonderment.
Suddenly, she was crying uncontrollably, unable to stem the flood of tears or the sobs wracking her body. Malfoy looked down at her as if she was barking mad, and seemed unsure what he’d done to cause such a reaction. She tried, feebly, to push him away as she struggled to sit up.
“Why? Why did you come? You knew it was a trap, you knew that they wanted to hurt you. Why did you come, you incredible idiot?” she cried out, a burst of anger overwhelming her just as suddenly as her tears had. Malfoy sat up so that that were on an even level, and he reached forward, and roughly pulled her against him. Once again, her body reacted unconsciously and she buried her face in the crook between his neck and shoulder, relaxing against his body as his arms wrapped around her, pressing her tightly against his body. As she cried, he stroked her hair soothingly while the other arm remained firmly wrapped around her waist.
“If you have to ask me, then I’m not going to tell you,” he murmured softly into her hair. The warmth of his breath against her neck and the wonderful safety she felt as he held her had lulled her enough to stop her tears, and it took a few moments for his words to register. As soon as they did, however, she pulled away, her eyes blazing furiously.
“What do you mean by that?” she demanded. Malfoy laughed, and before she could open her mouth again, he leaned in and kissed her tentatively. Her eyes instantly slid shut as she remember the wondrous thrill of the second time he’d kissed her, and the flurry of pleasure that stirred in her stomach was a welcome relief from her various aches and pains that that night had brought. Over far too soon, he pulled away slowly and Ginny was about to protest, but figuring that the he had, after all, come to her rescue, decided not to chastise him. Placing a hand against her cheek and brushing his fingers gently over the bruise she’d received from the snowball the day before, he bit his lip as if he was trying to decide what he wanted to say.
“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. About the pictures,” he said, looking her straight in the eye. Feeling as if she were about to start crying again, she just leaned forward until she was resting her head against his shoulder, reveling in the knowledge that she literally had someone to lean on. “Especially as it turns out that it was my fault, anyway.”
“Thank you for coming, even if you knew it was a trap,” she murmured. Her body felt limp and she realized just how hard it was getting to keep her eyes open.
“Have you figured it out yet, little weasel? Why I came?” he whispered, as he wrapped his arms around her again, sighing contentedly as she fit against his body. He was stroking her hair again, and Ginny could care less what he had to say, she was too comfortable and sleepy.
“Because they tried to take what was yours?” she asked, only half-serious. She could feel Malfoy smiling against her neck.
“Because I’m in love with you, silly girl,” he said off-handedly. Ginny chuckled softly, not quite registering the meaning of what he’d said. Malfoy moved to disentangle their bodies, gingerly pushing himself to his feet. She looked up at him, disappointed to lose his body’s warmth. It was then that the fact that he still had quite a bit of blood on his face registered in her mind, and she remembered everything he had gone through, how he’d been repeatedly tortured with an Unforgivable Curse. She started to shiver.
“What did you just say?” she chattered. Malfoy just rolled his eyes in exasperation and reached down, and with a loud groan, he helped Ginny to her feet.
“I’m an unfortunate fool who has fallen in love with someone who is quite possibly the most stubborn and difficult girl in the wizarding world,” he said, meeting her gaze. Setting an arm around her waist to help her walk as she made a move to do the same for him, he paused. “That stubborn, difficult girl would be you, weasel. Appreciate this moment, for there are thousands of witches who would kill to be in your shoes right now.”
“Wanker,” Ginny muttered. Too much had happened in such a short span – she was just emotionally incapable of processing this newest development. “If you are quite finished with the self-aggrandizing, I would really not like to have to spend any more time in this blasted room than necessary.”
“Wait, just one more thing,” he said. He spotted his wand on the ground near the door, and releasing his hold on Ginny, he walked forward, picking it up. He turned back towards Ginny, a mischievous smile on his face, before he pointed it at the wall on the far end of the classroom. Ginny watched him through her haze of exhaustion, slightly confused, until he muttered a spell, and a blast of energy shot from his wand. A second later, the wardrobe where she’d been trapped erupted into a million wooden shards, effectively destroying the wooden prison that had been her torture for hours that night. “Now we can go home.”
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Author’s Notes:
1) Claire’s backstory, about her brother, comes from both the manga and the live-action drama, which handles that whole situation very differently. In the manga, the character was seeking revenge for a friend who’d been attacked by the “Draco” character. In the live-action, it was a scorned girl who’d been teased by him and his friends, and THAT character fused the original one from the manga with another character. If that’s not confusing, the best way to describe what I’ve done here is to say that I combined both of them into MY character, making Claire the product of about 4 separate characters.
2) The major plot points of this chapter – Claire convincing Draco to help her find out the truth, Crabbe and Goyle helping Ginny out, Claire kidnapping Ginny and holding her hostage until Draco comes alone, are all drawn from the HYD plot. Also, the ultimatum that he not defend himself or else Ginny would suffer, him telling her to close her eyes, and the way she threw himself in front of him when Claire went for the chair are from HYD as well.
3) While it sounds like a great deal of this chapter comes from HYD, I have taken some major liberties with that plot, sketching out my own character tweaks. While Claire’s backstory is from the manga and the dorama, everything to do with her brother and Malfoy’s history with him is a product of my own twisted mind. Everything other than what I’ve mentioned is safe to assume came from me.
4) Thanks for being patient with me. I know I don't update as frequently as other authors, but I try to make up for it by writing longer chapters. The next update may be a while in coming, as I've signed up for the DG Fic-exchange, so that will take up my time devoted to fic-writing for awhile, but I hope it won't be as long for the next update. And thanks to those who review, I read every single one (sometimes more than once) and they mean a great deal to me. See you next chapter!
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