Summary: The tragic death of their daughter has brought the Weasley family to do the unthinkable: bring Ginny back to life. Yet the risen Ginny is no longer the sweet girl they knew and loved. With the help of one Draco Malfoy, she lives the life she was condemned not to live since birth… and learns the ways of the darker side in the Wizarding community.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.
Contra Mundum
Chapter One: The Drawbacks
By: Lillian
“Absence is one of the most useful ingredients of family life, and to dose it rightly is an art like any other…”
-Freya Stark
Wearing a grim grey dress with a dark purple sash around her waist, Narcissa Malfoy was the model perfection of a dark, cold gothic princess, an ice queen with an unnatural calmness about her. She sat, back straight, on a stiff cushioned chair, imported from her husband’s ancestral estate in France.
It was an old thing, an ancient thing that she detested upon the first sight of the wedding gift. Thus, she sat now, in the back of the manor, away from prying eyes, waiting in the dead of night for her prodigal son to return. She waited in the solemn darkness, with the trees rustling from her vantage point of the window.
She expected the back door to swing open any second now, expected to hear the squeaking noise from the hinges. The door was neglected and in rather poor shape. Not even the servants roamed this part of the manor. It was why her son had favored this wing of their home, for its epitome of privacy. And it was why she continued to sit and wait for the door to move and see her foolish son of sixteen appear through the threshold.
As for what she would do once she saw him, she would greet him with a hug and a kiss, as per usual to her greeting. It will be then that she’d stare into her boy’s guilty grey eyes, and perhaps not forgive him of his crime till tomorrow morn.
The grandfather clock from a distance chimed three times. Three o’clock, already. Where was her son? Worry crept up on her. He was a big boy, strong enough to protect himself. Yet worry flickered through her eyes nonetheless. Her only son was missing, stowing away with him a precious tome that Lucius would surely miss and rave about upon noticing its disappearance.
Chance had made her check the library late at night. The tome was usually beneath a glass encasement, lit up for all the guests to see and marvel. It was rare and valuable, its containments bordering on the dark arts, but it had been a gift from the British Minister of Magic oh so long ago. To find it missing made her nearly faint. Of course, she didn’t. She was still a Black after all, and Blacks did not faint despite the situation.
She took matters into her own hands; asking and threatening the house elves on who was the last person they saw enter the library. With mixed relief and anger by their replies, she headed off to scold her son.
She had opened his chamber doors, ready to scream at him for his foolish acts, but there was nothing to yell at but an empty room and no tome in sight. It was then that she grew livid.
She may act like a cold person to the public, but she showered her son with love and affection. It was the least she could do with Lucius force-feeding the boy his own morals and values. She herself couldn’t fully agree with her husband’s radical ideals, but it was the way of the Malfoys in which she and her son must follow. However, no love towards her son could stop her from punishing him for his actions.
Yet time had cooled her temper, and with time, she was left to contemplate her son’s foolhardy exploit. There had to be a logical reason why her son sneaked off at the dead of night with a priceless tome within his hands.
Speak of the devil. Draco was home.
“Bloody Weasel,” she heard her son say, a nickname for the youngest Weasley boy her son used frequently. He had yet to see her as he turned his back to her and shoved the door close. He ran his pale fingers through his very pale blond hair, his face agitated perhaps by their encounter. Enough with her wondering; it was time to make herself known.
“Draco,” she called out sharply, making her son jump, startled.
“Mother,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I myself couldn’t possibly picture myself here at this late hour, waiting ever so patiently for her prodigal son to return home.”
His pale cheeks blushed. “I didn’t know you knew I was gone.”
“I know a lot that goes around in my household Draco. I know for a fact that you left late into the night like a thief, and like a thief, you carry around with you something forbidden.” Her eyes locked onto his. “Care to explain yourself?”
He looked truly afraid now. “Does Father know?” he whispered.
She sighed. It was only natural for the boy to fear his father more than her. Lucius was always hard on the boy. “That’s besides the point Draco, but no, I have yet to inform him of your deeds.”
He bowed his head down. “I truly am sorry Mother, but considering the circumstances, I just had to do it.”
Her interest intensified. “What impelled you to do what?”
He looked solemnly back at her. “I made an oath not to tell.”
Narcissa frowned at his response. “Come, let us return that,” she stared at the book in his hands, “and have a heart to heart in the library.”
“Mum, it was a Wizarding Oath. You know I can’t break it,” he argued.
It was a lost cause. Draco would tell her what he was up to, no matter if it took her till morning. Hopefully Lucius would stay asleep in ignorance until the sun rose again.
~~~
A week had passed. Life at the Weasley household had grown more somber compared to when the girl died. Dead. That was how the girl acted now; dead like a porcelain doll. Draco sat next to his mother on the meager Weasley couch, which had become a usual ritual since his mother had found out and decided to muddle in his affairs. “It would disgrace the Malfoy name if this gets out,” he recalled his mother saying as she rushed over to the container of floo powder. She had looked disgruntled that day, unlike her calm and collected self. At least his secret was safe with Mother. If Father had known…
The queen of the household entered the poor excuse of an entertaining room. “Ever so sorry.” Mrs. Weasley took a seat across from them and began to discuss the same drab thing from yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He barely paid attention to what Mrs. Weasley had to say anymore. He had heard it often enough to have it memorized by heart.
The woman’s poor baby, who was better off living in heaven where innocents belonged, was all that the woman rambled about. Why did his mother continue to drag him here? He peered at his mother’s face. She was frowning. That wasn’t a good sign, even if his mother often frowned around lesser beings unlike themselves.
“She continues to stay in her room, not moving from her bed unless she has to use the bathroom. I don’t know what to do.”
Mrs. Weasley had found a companion in his mother, another woman she could share her troubles with concerning her half dead daughter.
“I suppose it is normal,” his mother replied in clipped tones, making sure to not sound too uneasy. “The girl was ripped away from heaven after all. Once she passed through those golden gates, she was met with the greatest bliss man could ever experience.”
Always the two of them would discuss Ginevra Molly Weasley, the girl he had helped rise from the dead. Was that a sin to do? He should go to heaven for alleviating this group of people’s pain, even if it brought a different kind of pain about their hearts.
Perhaps he’d end up in hell after all, where most of his relatives where burning in. He could almost picture himself thinking during his deathbed that he could buy his way into heaven. That would be a laugh.
“It’s settled then,” his mother said. Draco looked back at his mother, confused. “We’ll have the lovely Ginny Weasley in our care until your school term starts,” Mother explained. He looked incredulously at Molly Weasley. Surely Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t trust THEM to take care of her little baby girl?
Yet Mrs. Weasley sat there, a sad smile on her face. “Your mother has informed me about your extensive library. Perhaps you’ll be able to find… a cure to bring Ginny back to her old self. Until then, I think it’s best for Ginny to be in a different environment.”
Draco scowled. Didn’t the woman know there wasn’t a cure for that? The girl was as good as dead. If the youngest Weasley wanted to behave that way, then hell, let her.
“I feel like we’re suffocating her,” admitted Mrs. Weasley, dabbing at a stray tear with her kerchief.
“That’s because you bloody well are,” he grumbled. Mother sent him a stern look and shook her head.
“We’ll be going now Draco,” Mother said to him briskly as she got up from their seat. “Send the girl over to us around noon tomorrow. I still have to convince my husband about these arrangements.” Mrs. Weasley stared at Mother in shock, as if just realizing who it was the woman was married to. Draco sneered.
“You’ll need to make an excuse--” Mrs. Weasley began.
“I have one in mind,” Mother interrupted. “Do not fret Mrs. Weasley, I’ll take good care of your daughter. After all, we Malfoys have soiled our hands in this deed as well.” Draco stared down at his shoes as she said this.
“Malfoy Manor,” Mother said in a commanding voice into the fireplace.
He chanced a glance up the stairs before he walked into the fire, and was surprised to meet the eyes to Ginevra Weasley, the girl who refused to leave her room. He smirked at her all knowingly, and then stepped into the bursting green flames.
Mother was waiting for him by the fireplace. She had a distracted look about her eyes. “Help me think,” she said, letting Draco in on her troubles, “of a good excuse to give your father. He hates the Weasleys, as do I, but it’s necessary to get this girl back to normal. Society might look down upon us if word gets out…”
Draco shrugged in indifference. “Why not transfigure her to look like one of your relatives?”
“I can’t do that. Your father knows all of my relatives, including the half blood niece of mine,” she sniffed, "and he'll object any one of them setting foot here."
“Father’s bound to figure it out sooner or later with the Weasley girl here, acting like a zombie. Why does she have to be here anyways? My summer’s already ruined as it is. Now I’ll have to have the Weasley brat tagging along.”
Mother took a seat on the chaise longue. “Molly wants her daughter to be back to normal. We as socialites know how to act in front of visitors and the like.”
Draco was confused. What did that have to do with the Weaslette staying at Malfoy Manor?
Mother seemed to take notice of his confused expression. “Think Draco. Ginny Weasley will never be the same again, but with our help, we can make her act like her old self.”
“Mother,” he said exasperatedly. “You and I don’t know how she acts. Only her close friends and family members know the girl’s personality.”
She frowned. “You go to school with the girl, Draco. You must know something about the girl. Is she shy? Is she outgoing? We know she’s poor, so does she know her place in society? The Weasleys are a bunch of Muggle lovers, so she should be fond of Muggles.”
“But we hate Muggles. How are we supposed to teach her to love Muggles when we ourselves can’t stand to be near them?”
Mother simply shrugged. “We’ll overcome that obstacle when the time comes. For now, we’ll teach the girl the basics. Surely she knows the basics in manners. Maybe if we let her play an instrument, that might help her as well.”
“An instrument?” Draco was beginning to wonder about his Mother’s saneness.
“I see the way your face lights up when you play the piano, Draco. Doesn’t the music reach deep in your soul, comforting it? It eases it, just like how Ginny Weasley’s soul shall be healed.”
Draco blushed at his mother’s observations. “Mother, they’re Weasleys. They probably don’t have enough money to teach the girl how to play an instrument.”
“Yet Molly Weasley was a Prewett, if that means anything to you. If they couldn’t afford the girl basic piano lessons, Molly herself would have taught her.”
“Are you sure this will work Mother?”
His mother closed her eyes in exhaustion. “It all depends on how your father takes it. Having a Weasley over for two months isn’t his cup ‘a tea.”
Draco bit his bottom lip. "So there's no other choice then. We'll just have to tell him, just like that."
Mother began to laugh, a glass of brandy magically appearing in her hand before she took several unrefined gulps of the amber liquid. "All this sneaking around, and for what? Absolutely nothing." She rubbed her temple. "I'll take care of this Draco. Go to your rooms and stay there. I'll handle your father, somehow."
"Draco frowned. "Are you sure Mother? It's my fault and I should--"
"No Draco," his mother said gently. "I fear what Lucius might do to you once he knows. It's best if you stay out of harms way."
Draco nodded his head. "If you wish, Mother." He may not be a brave Gryffindor, but he still had loyalty to his family, especially to his mother. He was taking the easy way out, he knew, but if his mother was sure... "Good day, Mother, and good luck." He strode over to her and placed a light kiss against her cool cheek.
"Yes Draco, good day to you too. I'll have a house elf send you your dinner." With that said, Narcissa Malfoy went back to her brooding as Draco Malfoy exited the room.
Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the feedback/advice everyone! Big thanks to dragonfire onna on ff.net for plugging my stories on AI. You really didn’t have to do that. –hugs- As for the Buffy thing, I stopped watching that show once Angel left. –coff- Sad, I know. So if there are any similarities, its just coincidence. Please review! It keeps me motivated. ^_^
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters.
Contra Mundum
Chapter One: The Drawbacks
By: Lillian
“Absence is one of the most useful ingredients of family life, and to dose it rightly is an art like any other…”
-Freya Stark
Wearing a grim grey dress with a dark purple sash around her waist, Narcissa Malfoy was the model perfection of a dark, cold gothic princess, an ice queen with an unnatural calmness about her. She sat, back straight, on a stiff cushioned chair, imported from her husband’s ancestral estate in France.
It was an old thing, an ancient thing that she detested upon the first sight of the wedding gift. Thus, she sat now, in the back of the manor, away from prying eyes, waiting in the dead of night for her prodigal son to return. She waited in the solemn darkness, with the trees rustling from her vantage point of the window.
She expected the back door to swing open any second now, expected to hear the squeaking noise from the hinges. The door was neglected and in rather poor shape. Not even the servants roamed this part of the manor. It was why her son had favored this wing of their home, for its epitome of privacy. And it was why she continued to sit and wait for the door to move and see her foolish son of sixteen appear through the threshold.
As for what she would do once she saw him, she would greet him with a hug and a kiss, as per usual to her greeting. It will be then that she’d stare into her boy’s guilty grey eyes, and perhaps not forgive him of his crime till tomorrow morn.
The grandfather clock from a distance chimed three times. Three o’clock, already. Where was her son? Worry crept up on her. He was a big boy, strong enough to protect himself. Yet worry flickered through her eyes nonetheless. Her only son was missing, stowing away with him a precious tome that Lucius would surely miss and rave about upon noticing its disappearance.
Chance had made her check the library late at night. The tome was usually beneath a glass encasement, lit up for all the guests to see and marvel. It was rare and valuable, its containments bordering on the dark arts, but it had been a gift from the British Minister of Magic oh so long ago. To find it missing made her nearly faint. Of course, she didn’t. She was still a Black after all, and Blacks did not faint despite the situation.
She took matters into her own hands; asking and threatening the house elves on who was the last person they saw enter the library. With mixed relief and anger by their replies, she headed off to scold her son.
She had opened his chamber doors, ready to scream at him for his foolish acts, but there was nothing to yell at but an empty room and no tome in sight. It was then that she grew livid.
She may act like a cold person to the public, but she showered her son with love and affection. It was the least she could do with Lucius force-feeding the boy his own morals and values. She herself couldn’t fully agree with her husband’s radical ideals, but it was the way of the Malfoys in which she and her son must follow. However, no love towards her son could stop her from punishing him for his actions.
Yet time had cooled her temper, and with time, she was left to contemplate her son’s foolhardy exploit. There had to be a logical reason why her son sneaked off at the dead of night with a priceless tome within his hands.
Speak of the devil. Draco was home.
“Bloody Weasel,” she heard her son say, a nickname for the youngest Weasley boy her son used frequently. He had yet to see her as he turned his back to her and shoved the door close. He ran his pale fingers through his very pale blond hair, his face agitated perhaps by their encounter. Enough with her wondering; it was time to make herself known.
“Draco,” she called out sharply, making her son jump, startled.
“Mother,” he said, surprised. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I myself couldn’t possibly picture myself here at this late hour, waiting ever so patiently for her prodigal son to return home.”
His pale cheeks blushed. “I didn’t know you knew I was gone.”
“I know a lot that goes around in my household Draco. I know for a fact that you left late into the night like a thief, and like a thief, you carry around with you something forbidden.” Her eyes locked onto his. “Care to explain yourself?”
He looked truly afraid now. “Does Father know?” he whispered.
She sighed. It was only natural for the boy to fear his father more than her. Lucius was always hard on the boy. “That’s besides the point Draco, but no, I have yet to inform him of your deeds.”
He bowed his head down. “I truly am sorry Mother, but considering the circumstances, I just had to do it.”
Her interest intensified. “What impelled you to do what?”
He looked solemnly back at her. “I made an oath not to tell.”
Narcissa frowned at his response. “Come, let us return that,” she stared at the book in his hands, “and have a heart to heart in the library.”
“Mum, it was a Wizarding Oath. You know I can’t break it,” he argued.
It was a lost cause. Draco would tell her what he was up to, no matter if it took her till morning. Hopefully Lucius would stay asleep in ignorance until the sun rose again.
~~~
A week had passed. Life at the Weasley household had grown more somber compared to when the girl died. Dead. That was how the girl acted now; dead like a porcelain doll. Draco sat next to his mother on the meager Weasley couch, which had become a usual ritual since his mother had found out and decided to muddle in his affairs. “It would disgrace the Malfoy name if this gets out,” he recalled his mother saying as she rushed over to the container of floo powder. She had looked disgruntled that day, unlike her calm and collected self. At least his secret was safe with Mother. If Father had known…
The queen of the household entered the poor excuse of an entertaining room. “Ever so sorry.” Mrs. Weasley took a seat across from them and began to discuss the same drab thing from yesterday, and the day before, and the day before that. He barely paid attention to what Mrs. Weasley had to say anymore. He had heard it often enough to have it memorized by heart.
The woman’s poor baby, who was better off living in heaven where innocents belonged, was all that the woman rambled about. Why did his mother continue to drag him here? He peered at his mother’s face. She was frowning. That wasn’t a good sign, even if his mother often frowned around lesser beings unlike themselves.
“She continues to stay in her room, not moving from her bed unless she has to use the bathroom. I don’t know what to do.”
Mrs. Weasley had found a companion in his mother, another woman she could share her troubles with concerning her half dead daughter.
“I suppose it is normal,” his mother replied in clipped tones, making sure to not sound too uneasy. “The girl was ripped away from heaven after all. Once she passed through those golden gates, she was met with the greatest bliss man could ever experience.”
Always the two of them would discuss Ginevra Molly Weasley, the girl he had helped rise from the dead. Was that a sin to do? He should go to heaven for alleviating this group of people’s pain, even if it brought a different kind of pain about their hearts.
Perhaps he’d end up in hell after all, where most of his relatives where burning in. He could almost picture himself thinking during his deathbed that he could buy his way into heaven. That would be a laugh.
“It’s settled then,” his mother said. Draco looked back at his mother, confused. “We’ll have the lovely Ginny Weasley in our care until your school term starts,” Mother explained. He looked incredulously at Molly Weasley. Surely Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t trust THEM to take care of her little baby girl?
Yet Mrs. Weasley sat there, a sad smile on her face. “Your mother has informed me about your extensive library. Perhaps you’ll be able to find… a cure to bring Ginny back to her old self. Until then, I think it’s best for Ginny to be in a different environment.”
Draco scowled. Didn’t the woman know there wasn’t a cure for that? The girl was as good as dead. If the youngest Weasley wanted to behave that way, then hell, let her.
“I feel like we’re suffocating her,” admitted Mrs. Weasley, dabbing at a stray tear with her kerchief.
“That’s because you bloody well are,” he grumbled. Mother sent him a stern look and shook her head.
“We’ll be going now Draco,” Mother said to him briskly as she got up from their seat. “Send the girl over to us around noon tomorrow. I still have to convince my husband about these arrangements.” Mrs. Weasley stared at Mother in shock, as if just realizing who it was the woman was married to. Draco sneered.
“You’ll need to make an excuse--” Mrs. Weasley began.
“I have one in mind,” Mother interrupted. “Do not fret Mrs. Weasley, I’ll take good care of your daughter. After all, we Malfoys have soiled our hands in this deed as well.” Draco stared down at his shoes as she said this.
“Malfoy Manor,” Mother said in a commanding voice into the fireplace.
He chanced a glance up the stairs before he walked into the fire, and was surprised to meet the eyes to Ginevra Weasley, the girl who refused to leave her room. He smirked at her all knowingly, and then stepped into the bursting green flames.
Mother was waiting for him by the fireplace. She had a distracted look about her eyes. “Help me think,” she said, letting Draco in on her troubles, “of a good excuse to give your father. He hates the Weasleys, as do I, but it’s necessary to get this girl back to normal. Society might look down upon us if word gets out…”
Draco shrugged in indifference. “Why not transfigure her to look like one of your relatives?”
“I can’t do that. Your father knows all of my relatives, including the half blood niece of mine,” she sniffed, "and he'll object any one of them setting foot here."
“Father’s bound to figure it out sooner or later with the Weasley girl here, acting like a zombie. Why does she have to be here anyways? My summer’s already ruined as it is. Now I’ll have to have the Weasley brat tagging along.”
Mother took a seat on the chaise longue. “Molly wants her daughter to be back to normal. We as socialites know how to act in front of visitors and the like.”
Draco was confused. What did that have to do with the Weaslette staying at Malfoy Manor?
Mother seemed to take notice of his confused expression. “Think Draco. Ginny Weasley will never be the same again, but with our help, we can make her act like her old self.”
“Mother,” he said exasperatedly. “You and I don’t know how she acts. Only her close friends and family members know the girl’s personality.”
She frowned. “You go to school with the girl, Draco. You must know something about the girl. Is she shy? Is she outgoing? We know she’s poor, so does she know her place in society? The Weasleys are a bunch of Muggle lovers, so she should be fond of Muggles.”
“But we hate Muggles. How are we supposed to teach her to love Muggles when we ourselves can’t stand to be near them?”
Mother simply shrugged. “We’ll overcome that obstacle when the time comes. For now, we’ll teach the girl the basics. Surely she knows the basics in manners. Maybe if we let her play an instrument, that might help her as well.”
“An instrument?” Draco was beginning to wonder about his Mother’s saneness.
“I see the way your face lights up when you play the piano, Draco. Doesn’t the music reach deep in your soul, comforting it? It eases it, just like how Ginny Weasley’s soul shall be healed.”
Draco blushed at his mother’s observations. “Mother, they’re Weasleys. They probably don’t have enough money to teach the girl how to play an instrument.”
“Yet Molly Weasley was a Prewett, if that means anything to you. If they couldn’t afford the girl basic piano lessons, Molly herself would have taught her.”
“Are you sure this will work Mother?”
His mother closed her eyes in exhaustion. “It all depends on how your father takes it. Having a Weasley over for two months isn’t his cup ‘a tea.”
Draco bit his bottom lip. "So there's no other choice then. We'll just have to tell him, just like that."
Mother began to laugh, a glass of brandy magically appearing in her hand before she took several unrefined gulps of the amber liquid. "All this sneaking around, and for what? Absolutely nothing." She rubbed her temple. "I'll take care of this Draco. Go to your rooms and stay there. I'll handle your father, somehow."
"Draco frowned. "Are you sure Mother? It's my fault and I should--"
"No Draco," his mother said gently. "I fear what Lucius might do to you once he knows. It's best if you stay out of harms way."
Draco nodded his head. "If you wish, Mother." He may not be a brave Gryffindor, but he still had loyalty to his family, especially to his mother. He was taking the easy way out, he knew, but if his mother was sure... "Good day, Mother, and good luck." He strode over to her and placed a light kiss against her cool cheek.
"Yes Draco, good day to you too. I'll have a house elf send you your dinner." With that said, Narcissa Malfoy went back to her brooding as Draco Malfoy exited the room.
Author’s Notes: Thanks for all the feedback/advice everyone! Big thanks to dragonfire onna on ff.net for plugging my stories on AI. You really didn’t have to do that. –hugs- As for the Buffy thing, I stopped watching that show once Angel left. –coff- Sad, I know. So if there are any similarities, its just coincidence. Please review! It keeps me motivated. ^_^
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