heroes shed no tears -- 08
by virtualfaerie
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Ginny sat in an overstuffed armchair near the fire, her legs tucked up under her and a book lying open in her lap. There were a lot of books in the Ravenclaw common room—not to her surprise, what with the Ravenclaws being the most studious (minus Hermione) out of the four houses. But, even though she did have a book—Healing Spells: A Mediwizard’s Advanced Guide—she wasn’t reading it. Her eyes were trained to the small, dark haired girl she had seen earlier. The one that Draco had talked to, the one whose hair he ruffled just as affectionately as he would have done for Haven.
Draco confused her. He was so sharp and cold most of the time, but when he was around Haven, he was so gentle and caring it sort of scared her. She shook her head, willing herself to stop thinking about such stupid things. Why should she care about Draco’s mood swings? She needed to be brushing up on her healing spells.
She took one last look at the dark haired girl, then looked back down at her book. She read for about five minutes before she felt a small tap on her shoulder. She looked up and saw the timid face of the little girl peering up at her from under her disarrayed hair.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly. “Can you tell me how to say this word?” She pointed to a word in the book that Ginny had seen her reading earlier.
“Comatose,” said Ginny. She looked back up at the girl.
“What does that mean?” asked the girl.
“Unconscious,” said Ginny. “That’s when a person becomes unconscious because of an illness or injury, it’s like they’re asleep and they don’t wake up. It can last days, months, and even years, in some cases they don’t ever wake up.
“So it’s like dying?”
“It might seem that way because they don’t wake up or show any signs that they know you’re there, but they’re still very much alive.”
“Oh.”
She closed her book and set it on a small table near her chair. “What’s your name?” she asked carefully.
The girl blinked. “Sara.”
“I’m Ginny,” she said with a faint smile.
The corner of the girl’s mouth quirked up. “Hello.”
“What are you reading?” Ginny asked, motioning towards the book. She uncurled her legs and scooted over in the big chair, trying to make room for Sara to sit next to her.
Sara eyed the space warily, but climbed up into the chair next to Ginny anyways. She showed Ginny the book. “Magical Ailments: Curses Gone too Far,” Ginny read off the cover. She furrowed her eyebrows. “Why are you reading that?”
“My mother,” said Sara, softly. “She was under a Crutiatus Curse for a long time.” She swallowed. “She’s been in a coma ever since. Or at least that’s what my dad tells me.”
“I’m so sorry. Who’s your father?”
“Bane Pritchard,” said Sara.
Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed. Pritchard? That sounded familiar—a name she had heard at school, perhaps? She tried to remember…but her mind came up with a blank. “Oh?” Ginny asked softly. “What’s your mother’s name?”
Sara looked at her hands. “Penelope.”
Penelope? Ginny thought. “Penelope Clearwater?” Ginny asked.
Sara shrugged, “I think so.” Penelope had dated Percy for the longest time…then just left him for no apparent reason. Had it been because of Bane Pritchard?
“How old are you?”
“I’m nine,” Sara said proudly.
“That’s a good age,” Ginny said, nodding approvingly. Sara looked up at her a smiled; she had pale blue eyes and pink cheeks. “How—How do you know Draco?” Ginny asked a bit hesitantly.
This question brought a grin to her face. “He’s Haven’s daddy. Haven’s my friend. When he was staying here, Draco would sometimes come and play with us, or take us for swims in the lake,” Sara said.
“He played with you?” Ginny asked, trying to keep most of the disbelief from her voice. Despite Draco’s tenderness with Haven, it was hard imagining him playing with children. She never would have guessed that Draco Malfoy had a tender spot for children.
Sara smiled. “Yes, he played with us lots.”
“Well imagine that….”
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Draco left Hogwarts the same day that he’d arrived, only telling Dumbledore. He needed to get back to the Death Eaters before they noticed his disappearance, what Ron had said rang through his ears, reminding him of the dangers that would arise should he be found out.
He walked to Hogsmeade, to check up on the Serpent League, of which he was a part of, no matter how much Mathilde might blantly ignore the fact. He arrived at a small building that was situated at the end of the main road in Hogsmeade. The building had a looming dark presence that seemed to haunt its vicinity. Draco shuddered inwardly as he stepped into the building.
The acrid smell of blood invaded his senses as soon as he stepped inside, and he heard screams from a room not to far off --- torture. He shook his head and made his way to the front desk. He needed to check in with Zabini, and in order to do that he needed a fireplace. Maybe he could get Flint to let him use the one in his office—that way he could find out what he and Mathilde were really doing in Ollivander’s earlier that day.
“Hello,” he said.
The secretary looked up at him. “Your business?” she asked curtly.
“I need to speak to Marcus Flint, and require the use of a fireplace,” Draco said shortly.
She nodded and pressed a button on a speaker-like device that was on her desk. “Mr. Flint,” she spoke to it. “There is a…” she paused the looked up at Draco.
“Draco Malfoy…” he prompted, raising an eyebrow. Hadn’t this woman been taught proper secretarial procedures?
“There is a Mr. Draco Malfoy here to see you.”
Draco heard Flint’s rough voice crackle through the speaker. “Send him up,” he said tersely.
The secretary nodded to Draco. “He’s on the second floor, to the right…second door.” She had barely finished before Draco had taken off towards the stairs. He reached Flint’s office and raised a hand to knock, but it was pulled open before he could.
Mathilde was standing in the doorway, her black eyes blazing, but her face otherwise composed. She was impeccably groomed, as usual. Her long, black hair was fixed behind her shoulders, not a single hair out of place, and her luxurious crimson robes were completely unruffled. She stuck her nose up as she took him in. “Malfoy,” she said coldly, eyeing him with disdain.
“Lestrange,” he returned, his voice holding the same cold bite. “If you would…ah…remove yourself from the doorway?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I have something to discuss with Flint.”
She pursed her lips angrily, and brushed past him brusquely, hitting his shoulder with hers viciously. Draco’s lip curled up in disgust as he watched her storm down the hallway, her long robes billowing out around her legs. He snorted and entered Flint’s office.
Flint was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, fingers massaging his temples lethargically. He didn’t raise his head as Draco entered the room. “Sit,” he said, motioning with his head towards the two chairs that sat facing his desk. He finished his massage and looked up at Draco. “She’s getting more and more arduous everyday. I swear that woman….”
“Has a wand up her ass?” Draco supplied helpfully, remembering what Ginny had said earlier.
Flint cocked his head to the side as he gave Draco a thoughtful look. “Not what I was going to say…but it’ll work.” He smiled slowly. “So…what’re you here for?”
“I wanted to know what you and Mathilde were doing at Ollivander’s yesterday,” said Draco, bluntly, he wasted no time getting to the subject at hand. “And I need to use your fireplace,” he added, jerking his head to the fireplace behind Flint’s desk.
Flint eyed Draco suspiciously for a moment. “We were getting wands,” he said.
“That much was obvious,” Draco said, restraining the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes he wondered how Flint had even been initiated into the ranks of the Death Eaters, most of the time he was intolerably stupid. Then again, old Voldemort had always wanted as many supporters as he could get.
“I wasn’t finished,” Flint bit off. He let out a loud sigh and continued. “The Dark Lord wanted wands for…he hasn’t told us exactly, but from what we’ve heard, from the grapevine and such,” he said, waving his hand around airily. Draco resisted yet another urge to roll his eyes, wishing desperately that Flint would just out and say things clearly. “He wants them for some dark creatures he’s managed to win over. We’re assuming that he’s going to hand them a wand and let them go at it with the remaining Resistance since he knows they’re going to try again for a comeback.”
Draco tried not the wrinkle his nose in disgust. Voldemort was employing the help of dark creatures? And he was giving them wands no less? There was a rule that magical creatures were not supposed to be in possession of a wand—but then again, the Ministry that had served with those rules was long gone. The creatures didn’t even know any spells, was Voldemort just going to let them…. Maybe he was just going to use them as a distraction to wear down the Resistance before he sent his own men in?
“Let me get this straight,” Draco said with a small frown. “The Dark Lord is handing out free wands to any dark creature willing to sacrifice his life? He’s just going to use them as pawns to wear down the Resistance should they try to attack again?” He paused for a moment. “What kind of creatures has he won over?”
Flint scratched his head. “From what I’ve heard…vampires, trolls, grindlylows, boggarts, pogrebin, and veela. I think he’s working on the giants and werewolves at the moment.”
Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. Werewolves? He would have to talk to Lupin as soon as he got back to the castle. They needed to prevent anymore creatures crossing over to the dark side. He may even have to speak to Charlie Weasley about dragons. The Resistance would have a huge advantage if they had the dragons on their side.
“What about dragons?” asked Draco.
“We haven’t heard much about them. But so far they’ve stayed neutral…I don’t know if they’d change opinions,” said Flint. “You said you needed to use my fireplace?” he asked, hastily changing the subject.
Draco nodded, he needed to speak to Zabini as soon as possible.
“Alright then,” Flint said, getting up out of his seat. “I’ll let you use it in private. I’ll be back in ten minutes…if you need anything else.”
“Okay,” said Draco, waiting until Flint had closed the door behind him before he approached the fireplace. He took one of the pots from Flint’s desk and threw some powder in the fire. “Blaise Zabini!” he called into it, sitting on the chair in front of the fireplace.
Within seconds, there was a ‘pop’ and Zabini’s face appeared in the fire. “Why hullo there, Malfoy,” he said. “Long time no see, been busy?”
“Yeah, busy. I’ve been in Hogsmeade looking up on things,” said Draco.
“Ah,” said Zabini. “That’s alright. Not much has been going on around here anyways. You probably are doing better there, what with the Serpent League being there and all. Probably more action, eh?” he asked with a small grin.
“Hardly,” said Draco. “I’m sure it’s just as boring anywhere.”
Zabini shrugged. “No matter. Just calling to check in?”
“Yes,” said Draco. “Are you sure there isn’t anything new happening?”
“Oh,” said Zabini, realization dawning in his eyes. “We’ve got an infiltrate in the Resistance.”
“Have you?” Draco asked, masking his surprise.
“Oh yes, genius isn’t it?” He looked back over his shoulder and frowned. “Sorry, got to cut it short, Malfoy. I’ve got a meeting to attend.” Zabini raised his hand and gave Draco a mock-salute before disappearing from the fire.
Draco cursed under his breath and stalked out of the room.
---------------------
Ginny entered the old Charms room that night. It was after dinner and Dumbledore had called a meeting. In place of all the desks, there was a large round table in the room, chairs scattered all around it. Most of them occupied by: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Dumbledore, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Fred and George, Bill, Charlie, Snape, Seamus Finnegan, and a man that Ginny didn’t recognize.
“Hello,” she said, taking a seat next to Harry, who gave her a small smile.
Dumbledore looked at a clock that was hanging above the doorway. “We’re just waiting for Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore cleared his throat, “It seems that he got held up in Hogsmeade, but…he has something very important to tell us.” He glanced at Ginny, who he noticed was glancing askance at the man she didn’t recognize. “I suppose a few introductions are necessary. Ginny Weasley,” he said, holding out a hand towards Ginny, “meet Bane Pritchard,” he held out another hand towards the unfamiliar man. “Bane, Ginny,” he finished.
So that was Sara’s father, Ginny thought interestedly. He was built sturdily, with dark eyes and even darker hair. His eyes bore into hers smolderingly as she looked at him across the table. “Hello,” he said in a low husky voice, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“Hi,” she said timidly—and was saved from any further conversation with him by Draco, stalking through the door, his robes billowing out around his legs, making sharp cracking noises with his crisp steps. His face was like stone, but his eyes glittering dangerously. He took the only chair left, next to Ginny, pulling it out and sitting down quickly.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore greeted him. “We’re pleased you could make it. You mentioned you had some news?"
“It’s not good, Voldemort has resorted to petty tactics, again.”
Dumbledore inclined his head, urging him to continue.
“Voldemort has enlisted the help of several dark creatures, and is planning giving them all wands to attack the Resistance with. He knows that we’re planning a final attack, and he’s preparing for it. He’s already got vampires, trolls, grindlylows, boggarts, pogrebin, and veela on his side—ready to fight against us. He’s working on recruiting the giants,” he paused and looked to Lupin, “and werewolves.” Lupin raised his eyebrows. “We have to prevent him from recruiting any other creatures, and maybe even try recruiting some of our own.” He turned to Charlie. “Do you think it’s possible to get the dragons to support us?”
Charlie lowered his eyebrows and looked at the table pensively for a moment. “It’s possible,” he said. “But there’s no telling, dragons tend to be fickle.”
Draco shook his head tiredly. “But that’s not the worst of it.”
“What…what is?” Ginny asked, almost afraid of what he might say.
“They’ve got an infiltrate in the castle,” he said impassively.
Neville let out an audible gasp. “No….” he said disbelievingly. “There’s no way…” he frowned. “That’s impossible,” he said with a little squeak.
Fred and George’s heads hit the table at the exact same time. “Oh gods,” Fred mumbled, his voice muffled against the table.
“This cannot be happening,” said George.
Hermione glanced around the table frightfully. “It isn’t anyone in here is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Draco said truthfully. “Zabini had to go before I could ask. So my guess is as good as yours.”
“What are we going to do about this?” asked Sirius, looking to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore shook his head tiredly. “Be careful. Watch what you say around anyone—be suspicious. There’s nothing else I can say really…we don’t know who it is.”
Draco rubbed his eyes. “I’ll go back in tomorrow and see what else I can find out.”
“What a lovely day…” Ginny said morosely.
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“I haven’t seen you around before,” Bane said pleasantly as they were walking back to the Ravenclaw tower. He, Draco, and Ginny had left together. “Did you just get here?”
Ginny looked up at him. “Yes, actually I just got here today.”
“Oh,” he said softly.
“I met your daughter,” said Ginny, fumbling for something talk about. “She’s really sweet.”
Bane smiled. “She is, isn’t she?” Ginny nodded, and they reached the tower. Draco said the password quietly and the entered the common room.
Sara sighted Bane and ran at him. “Daddy!” she squealed, jumping up in his arms.
He picked her up. “Hullo, sweetheart.”
Ginny stood for a moment—transfixed in the act of tenderness between Bane and his daughter—but Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her up the staircase with him.
“What are you doing?” she hissed at him, as soon as they reached their dorm. She jerked her arm away from him, and rubbed it tenderly where his vice-like grip had been.
Draco glared at her. “He’s married—in case you didn’t know. He doesn’t need you leering at him.”
“I wasn’t leering at him!” Ginny objected, glaring right back.
“Then what were you doing?”
“I was…” Ginny paused. “I was admiring his affection towards Sara.”
“Wishing that you were getting some too, eh?” Draco spat. “I hadn’t taken you as a tramp, fancying another woman’s man. But then again…you are a Weasley.”
“Take that back, Malfoy,” said Ginny, narrowing her eyes.
“Make me,” he said, eyes jeering her.
“You’re a bastard.”
“So I’ve been told, countless times,” Draco replied in a bored tone.
“And they were all right!” Ginny fumed. She stomped over to her bed and climbed in, yanking the drawings shut.
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Thanks to:
Natalie and Elenya for betaing.
by virtualfaerie
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Ginny sat in an overstuffed armchair near the fire, her legs tucked up under her and a book lying open in her lap. There were a lot of books in the Ravenclaw common room—not to her surprise, what with the Ravenclaws being the most studious (minus Hermione) out of the four houses. But, even though she did have a book—Healing Spells: A Mediwizard’s Advanced Guide—she wasn’t reading it. Her eyes were trained to the small, dark haired girl she had seen earlier. The one that Draco had talked to, the one whose hair he ruffled just as affectionately as he would have done for Haven.
Draco confused her. He was so sharp and cold most of the time, but when he was around Haven, he was so gentle and caring it sort of scared her. She shook her head, willing herself to stop thinking about such stupid things. Why should she care about Draco’s mood swings? She needed to be brushing up on her healing spells.
She took one last look at the dark haired girl, then looked back down at her book. She read for about five minutes before she felt a small tap on her shoulder. She looked up and saw the timid face of the little girl peering up at her from under her disarrayed hair.
“Excuse me,” she said quietly. “Can you tell me how to say this word?” She pointed to a word in the book that Ginny had seen her reading earlier.
“Comatose,” said Ginny. She looked back up at the girl.
“What does that mean?” asked the girl.
“Unconscious,” said Ginny. “That’s when a person becomes unconscious because of an illness or injury, it’s like they’re asleep and they don’t wake up. It can last days, months, and even years, in some cases they don’t ever wake up.
“So it’s like dying?”
“It might seem that way because they don’t wake up or show any signs that they know you’re there, but they’re still very much alive.”
“Oh.”
She closed her book and set it on a small table near her chair. “What’s your name?” she asked carefully.
The girl blinked. “Sara.”
“I’m Ginny,” she said with a faint smile.
The corner of the girl’s mouth quirked up. “Hello.”
“What are you reading?” Ginny asked, motioning towards the book. She uncurled her legs and scooted over in the big chair, trying to make room for Sara to sit next to her.
Sara eyed the space warily, but climbed up into the chair next to Ginny anyways. She showed Ginny the book. “Magical Ailments: Curses Gone too Far,” Ginny read off the cover. She furrowed her eyebrows. “Why are you reading that?”
“My mother,” said Sara, softly. “She was under a Crutiatus Curse for a long time.” She swallowed. “She’s been in a coma ever since. Or at least that’s what my dad tells me.”
“I’m so sorry. Who’s your father?”
“Bane Pritchard,” said Sara.
Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed. Pritchard? That sounded familiar—a name she had heard at school, perhaps? She tried to remember…but her mind came up with a blank. “Oh?” Ginny asked softly. “What’s your mother’s name?”
Sara looked at her hands. “Penelope.”
Penelope? Ginny thought. “Penelope Clearwater?” Ginny asked.
Sara shrugged, “I think so.” Penelope had dated Percy for the longest time…then just left him for no apparent reason. Had it been because of Bane Pritchard?
“How old are you?”
“I’m nine,” Sara said proudly.
“That’s a good age,” Ginny said, nodding approvingly. Sara looked up at her a smiled; she had pale blue eyes and pink cheeks. “How—How do you know Draco?” Ginny asked a bit hesitantly.
This question brought a grin to her face. “He’s Haven’s daddy. Haven’s my friend. When he was staying here, Draco would sometimes come and play with us, or take us for swims in the lake,” Sara said.
“He played with you?” Ginny asked, trying to keep most of the disbelief from her voice. Despite Draco’s tenderness with Haven, it was hard imagining him playing with children. She never would have guessed that Draco Malfoy had a tender spot for children.
Sara smiled. “Yes, he played with us lots.”
“Well imagine that….”
---------------------
Draco left Hogwarts the same day that he’d arrived, only telling Dumbledore. He needed to get back to the Death Eaters before they noticed his disappearance, what Ron had said rang through his ears, reminding him of the dangers that would arise should he be found out.
He walked to Hogsmeade, to check up on the Serpent League, of which he was a part of, no matter how much Mathilde might blantly ignore the fact. He arrived at a small building that was situated at the end of the main road in Hogsmeade. The building had a looming dark presence that seemed to haunt its vicinity. Draco shuddered inwardly as he stepped into the building.
The acrid smell of blood invaded his senses as soon as he stepped inside, and he heard screams from a room not to far off --- torture. He shook his head and made his way to the front desk. He needed to check in with Zabini, and in order to do that he needed a fireplace. Maybe he could get Flint to let him use the one in his office—that way he could find out what he and Mathilde were really doing in Ollivander’s earlier that day.
“Hello,” he said.
The secretary looked up at him. “Your business?” she asked curtly.
“I need to speak to Marcus Flint, and require the use of a fireplace,” Draco said shortly.
She nodded and pressed a button on a speaker-like device that was on her desk. “Mr. Flint,” she spoke to it. “There is a…” she paused the looked up at Draco.
“Draco Malfoy…” he prompted, raising an eyebrow. Hadn’t this woman been taught proper secretarial procedures?
“There is a Mr. Draco Malfoy here to see you.”
Draco heard Flint’s rough voice crackle through the speaker. “Send him up,” he said tersely.
The secretary nodded to Draco. “He’s on the second floor, to the right…second door.” She had barely finished before Draco had taken off towards the stairs. He reached Flint’s office and raised a hand to knock, but it was pulled open before he could.
Mathilde was standing in the doorway, her black eyes blazing, but her face otherwise composed. She was impeccably groomed, as usual. Her long, black hair was fixed behind her shoulders, not a single hair out of place, and her luxurious crimson robes were completely unruffled. She stuck her nose up as she took him in. “Malfoy,” she said coldly, eyeing him with disdain.
“Lestrange,” he returned, his voice holding the same cold bite. “If you would…ah…remove yourself from the doorway?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I have something to discuss with Flint.”
She pursed her lips angrily, and brushed past him brusquely, hitting his shoulder with hers viciously. Draco’s lip curled up in disgust as he watched her storm down the hallway, her long robes billowing out around her legs. He snorted and entered Flint’s office.
Flint was sitting at his desk, his head in his hands, fingers massaging his temples lethargically. He didn’t raise his head as Draco entered the room. “Sit,” he said, motioning with his head towards the two chairs that sat facing his desk. He finished his massage and looked up at Draco. “She’s getting more and more arduous everyday. I swear that woman….”
“Has a wand up her ass?” Draco supplied helpfully, remembering what Ginny had said earlier.
Flint cocked his head to the side as he gave Draco a thoughtful look. “Not what I was going to say…but it’ll work.” He smiled slowly. “So…what’re you here for?”
“I wanted to know what you and Mathilde were doing at Ollivander’s yesterday,” said Draco, bluntly, he wasted no time getting to the subject at hand. “And I need to use your fireplace,” he added, jerking his head to the fireplace behind Flint’s desk.
Flint eyed Draco suspiciously for a moment. “We were getting wands,” he said.
“That much was obvious,” Draco said, restraining the urge to roll his eyes. Sometimes he wondered how Flint had even been initiated into the ranks of the Death Eaters, most of the time he was intolerably stupid. Then again, old Voldemort had always wanted as many supporters as he could get.
“I wasn’t finished,” Flint bit off. He let out a loud sigh and continued. “The Dark Lord wanted wands for…he hasn’t told us exactly, but from what we’ve heard, from the grapevine and such,” he said, waving his hand around airily. Draco resisted yet another urge to roll his eyes, wishing desperately that Flint would just out and say things clearly. “He wants them for some dark creatures he’s managed to win over. We’re assuming that he’s going to hand them a wand and let them go at it with the remaining Resistance since he knows they’re going to try again for a comeback.”
Draco tried not the wrinkle his nose in disgust. Voldemort was employing the help of dark creatures? And he was giving them wands no less? There was a rule that magical creatures were not supposed to be in possession of a wand—but then again, the Ministry that had served with those rules was long gone. The creatures didn’t even know any spells, was Voldemort just going to let them…. Maybe he was just going to use them as a distraction to wear down the Resistance before he sent his own men in?
“Let me get this straight,” Draco said with a small frown. “The Dark Lord is handing out free wands to any dark creature willing to sacrifice his life? He’s just going to use them as pawns to wear down the Resistance should they try to attack again?” He paused for a moment. “What kind of creatures has he won over?”
Flint scratched his head. “From what I’ve heard…vampires, trolls, grindlylows, boggarts, pogrebin, and veela. I think he’s working on the giants and werewolves at the moment.”
Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. Werewolves? He would have to talk to Lupin as soon as he got back to the castle. They needed to prevent anymore creatures crossing over to the dark side. He may even have to speak to Charlie Weasley about dragons. The Resistance would have a huge advantage if they had the dragons on their side.
“What about dragons?” asked Draco.
“We haven’t heard much about them. But so far they’ve stayed neutral…I don’t know if they’d change opinions,” said Flint. “You said you needed to use my fireplace?” he asked, hastily changing the subject.
Draco nodded, he needed to speak to Zabini as soon as possible.
“Alright then,” Flint said, getting up out of his seat. “I’ll let you use it in private. I’ll be back in ten minutes…if you need anything else.”
“Okay,” said Draco, waiting until Flint had closed the door behind him before he approached the fireplace. He took one of the pots from Flint’s desk and threw some powder in the fire. “Blaise Zabini!” he called into it, sitting on the chair in front of the fireplace.
Within seconds, there was a ‘pop’ and Zabini’s face appeared in the fire. “Why hullo there, Malfoy,” he said. “Long time no see, been busy?”
“Yeah, busy. I’ve been in Hogsmeade looking up on things,” said Draco.
“Ah,” said Zabini. “That’s alright. Not much has been going on around here anyways. You probably are doing better there, what with the Serpent League being there and all. Probably more action, eh?” he asked with a small grin.
“Hardly,” said Draco. “I’m sure it’s just as boring anywhere.”
Zabini shrugged. “No matter. Just calling to check in?”
“Yes,” said Draco. “Are you sure there isn’t anything new happening?”
“Oh,” said Zabini, realization dawning in his eyes. “We’ve got an infiltrate in the Resistance.”
“Have you?” Draco asked, masking his surprise.
“Oh yes, genius isn’t it?” He looked back over his shoulder and frowned. “Sorry, got to cut it short, Malfoy. I’ve got a meeting to attend.” Zabini raised his hand and gave Draco a mock-salute before disappearing from the fire.
Draco cursed under his breath and stalked out of the room.
---------------------
Ginny entered the old Charms room that night. It was after dinner and Dumbledore had called a meeting. In place of all the desks, there was a large round table in the room, chairs scattered all around it. Most of them occupied by: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Dumbledore, Harry, Hermione, Neville, Fred and George, Bill, Charlie, Snape, Seamus Finnegan, and a man that Ginny didn’t recognize.
“Hello,” she said, taking a seat next to Harry, who gave her a small smile.
Dumbledore looked at a clock that was hanging above the doorway. “We’re just waiting for Mr. Malfoy.” Dumbledore cleared his throat, “It seems that he got held up in Hogsmeade, but…he has something very important to tell us.” He glanced at Ginny, who he noticed was glancing askance at the man she didn’t recognize. “I suppose a few introductions are necessary. Ginny Weasley,” he said, holding out a hand towards Ginny, “meet Bane Pritchard,” he held out another hand towards the unfamiliar man. “Bane, Ginny,” he finished.
So that was Sara’s father, Ginny thought interestedly. He was built sturdily, with dark eyes and even darker hair. His eyes bore into hers smolderingly as she looked at him across the table. “Hello,” he said in a low husky voice, it made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“Hi,” she said timidly—and was saved from any further conversation with him by Draco, stalking through the door, his robes billowing out around his legs, making sharp cracking noises with his crisp steps. His face was like stone, but his eyes glittering dangerously. He took the only chair left, next to Ginny, pulling it out and sitting down quickly.
“Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore greeted him. “We’re pleased you could make it. You mentioned you had some news?"
“It’s not good, Voldemort has resorted to petty tactics, again.”
Dumbledore inclined his head, urging him to continue.
“Voldemort has enlisted the help of several dark creatures, and is planning giving them all wands to attack the Resistance with. He knows that we’re planning a final attack, and he’s preparing for it. He’s already got vampires, trolls, grindlylows, boggarts, pogrebin, and veela on his side—ready to fight against us. He’s working on recruiting the giants,” he paused and looked to Lupin, “and werewolves.” Lupin raised his eyebrows. “We have to prevent him from recruiting any other creatures, and maybe even try recruiting some of our own.” He turned to Charlie. “Do you think it’s possible to get the dragons to support us?”
Charlie lowered his eyebrows and looked at the table pensively for a moment. “It’s possible,” he said. “But there’s no telling, dragons tend to be fickle.”
Draco shook his head tiredly. “But that’s not the worst of it.”
“What…what is?” Ginny asked, almost afraid of what he might say.
“They’ve got an infiltrate in the castle,” he said impassively.
Neville let out an audible gasp. “No….” he said disbelievingly. “There’s no way…” he frowned. “That’s impossible,” he said with a little squeak.
Fred and George’s heads hit the table at the exact same time. “Oh gods,” Fred mumbled, his voice muffled against the table.
“This cannot be happening,” said George.
Hermione glanced around the table frightfully. “It isn’t anyone in here is it?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” Draco said truthfully. “Zabini had to go before I could ask. So my guess is as good as yours.”
“What are we going to do about this?” asked Sirius, looking to Dumbledore.
Dumbledore shook his head tiredly. “Be careful. Watch what you say around anyone—be suspicious. There’s nothing else I can say really…we don’t know who it is.”
Draco rubbed his eyes. “I’ll go back in tomorrow and see what else I can find out.”
“What a lovely day…” Ginny said morosely.
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“I haven’t seen you around before,” Bane said pleasantly as they were walking back to the Ravenclaw tower. He, Draco, and Ginny had left together. “Did you just get here?”
Ginny looked up at him. “Yes, actually I just got here today.”
“Oh,” he said softly.
“I met your daughter,” said Ginny, fumbling for something talk about. “She’s really sweet.”
Bane smiled. “She is, isn’t she?” Ginny nodded, and they reached the tower. Draco said the password quietly and the entered the common room.
Sara sighted Bane and ran at him. “Daddy!” she squealed, jumping up in his arms.
He picked her up. “Hullo, sweetheart.”
Ginny stood for a moment—transfixed in the act of tenderness between Bane and his daughter—but Draco grabbed her arm and pulled her up the staircase with him.
“What are you doing?” she hissed at him, as soon as they reached their dorm. She jerked her arm away from him, and rubbed it tenderly where his vice-like grip had been.
Draco glared at her. “He’s married—in case you didn’t know. He doesn’t need you leering at him.”
“I wasn’t leering at him!” Ginny objected, glaring right back.
“Then what were you doing?”
“I was…” Ginny paused. “I was admiring his affection towards Sara.”
“Wishing that you were getting some too, eh?” Draco spat. “I hadn’t taken you as a tramp, fancying another woman’s man. But then again…you are a Weasley.”
“Take that back, Malfoy,” said Ginny, narrowing her eyes.
“Make me,” he said, eyes jeering her.
“You’re a bastard.”
“So I’ve been told, countless times,” Draco replied in a bored tone.
“And they were all right!” Ginny fumed. She stomped over to her bed and climbed in, yanking the drawings shut.
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Thanks to:
Natalie and Elenya for betaing.
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