Part 4: Shatter
Fifth year – spring
“Stay in your dormitory,” his voice said behind her, hovering near her ear. The sound of it sent a chill down her spine, even as the sound of his voice startled her to the core. He sounded desperate and deadly serious, and the fact that he was standing right behind her, his body so close to hers… she grappled with her desire turn and lunge at him, to experience everything she had a few weeks ago during that stolen hour in the soggy grass under the willow tree. But the need to keep that entire interaction a secret from everyone in her life won out, and she ignored it. She braced herself against the bookshelf she was facing, needing to feel something solid supporting her as her eyes darted around wildly, wondering if anyone could see them.
“No matter what happens, no matter what you hear… stay in your dormitory. Lock the door and stay there,” he whispered roughly. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she just knew that his eyes would have that piercing look that set her heart racing.
“Why should I?” she asked suspiciously, the first words she’d spoken to him ever since that day she encountered him in the owlery. Suddenly, his hands were gripping her elbow roughly, forcing her to turn to face him. His eyes bright and rimmed in red, he stared at her, a hard and penetrating look, and she felt a spike of fear cut through her.
“Just stay in your dormitory,” he spat furiously. With that, he released her arm, and turned sharply away from her and marched away. She watched him as he walked away, her fingers shaking slightly with fear. Something very terrible was on the horizon – it had been palpable in the atmosphere ever since the horrible incident at the Department of Mysteries the year before. But now it seemed as if it was all coming to a head, and Ginny felt deep within her soul that Draco Malfoy was somehow in the very center of that storm.
By the time that night was over, everything about her life would change. Death Eaters would attack the school, her brother would be permanently scarred and Dumbledore would be killed. And Ginny had been warned that something was going to happen, and had kept that warning to herself, and would have to, forever after that night, live with the terrible weight of the guilt that she’d known and hadn’t breathed a word to anyone.
* * * *
A few weeks later…
A permanent sick feeling lodged in her stomach, Ginny had crawled through her days since that night, playing along. When Harry Potter, the unknowingly noble character that he was, had ended their relationship, she’d gone through the motions, said exactly what was expected of her and was able to shed a tear or two rather convincingly. But deep inside, she was relieved. She wasn’t a match for the hero of the story, not after what had happened and the inadvertent and indirect part she’d played.
She had known, deep inside, that his warning was very serious. It was the only reason he ever would have spoken to her in such an exposed location, where anyone in the school could see. She had known that something terrible was going to happen, but didn’t say anything – because she was terrified they would ask how she knew, and then she’d have to reveal not only her source, but her recent interactions with him. And it was too private and precious to her. They were her stolen moments, her glimpse into “what could be” if only the world was completely different, and she hadn’t wanted to share them, to allow them to be dissected by Harry and her brother as they suspiciously examined every moment, looking for the hidden motive.
She didn’t want to find a hidden motive.
But now, she wanted nothing more than to be free of the endless refrains of ‘what ifs’ that were plaguing her every waking thought and haunting her dreams. Every idle second, her brain would spin out a new scenario where she did something differently, where she told the right person – who wouldn’t ask too many questions – and everything would turn out differently. They haunted her, added to the knot in her stomach and to the weight on her shoulders.
And she had barely a moment’s rest. She missed the wide open expanse of Hogwarts, the numerous hidden corridors and external buildings where she could lose herself for hours without coming across another person. Even the less-spectacular scenery of the Burrow would have been enough to satisfy her craving for space, but that was not to be. After the funeral, her family – except for Ron, who was off with Harry and Hermione, had returned to dark safety of Grimmauld Place, and the narrow space and general darkness of the building made her skin itch to be outdoors.
She had trouble sleeping at night, and her mum had explained it away, figuring that it was the anxiety and uncertainty of the times that was affecting her. There were a lot of mysterious comings and goings, always late at night, and her mother still insisted that “the children” be as sheltered from the brutal reality as possible. It only served to increase her sense of isolation.
One night, after the rest of the house was sleeping, she crept out the back, needing to feel some fresh air on her face before she completely lost her mind. But there was more to it than just guilt and the terrible sense that she’d played a part in some terrible destiny; it was as if something was calling out to her.
Ginny had barely stepped out into the weedy garden when she heard a whispered voice hissing her name. Immediately, her heart started to pound in her chest, and that magnetic force that seemed to overpower her common sense started to tingle in her toes and fingers. She stepped gingerly, dressed only in the large t-shirt she’d inherited from Bill, into the shadows, following the voice.
She was unsurprised when a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. He began pulling her away from the house, and she stumbled along, a thousand words clamoring to heard in her brain as she thought about what she was going to say to him. He stopped, several yards away, and turned to face her – a drawn, tight expression that did not at all resemble the arrogance he’d worn so easily before.
“You can’t be here,” she whispered, pulling her fingers away from his hand. He nodded wryly, before sighing heavily and running his hands through his hair; an exhausted teenager who was no longer simply a teenager and never would be again.
“How did you know I was out here?” he asked. She frowned, wondering the same thing. She just knew. She always just knew when he was in close proximity. It wasn’t a conscious choice.
“Why did you come here?” she demanded, pleadingly. He’d made her life enough of a lie already.
“I don’t know.” His voice was heavy with weariness, but there was also that same sense of dread and foreboding, that there was something terrible on the horizon. But this time, she didn’t want to hear the warning. She didn’t want to know. She wanted to surrender herself to fate and let that determine the course of her life. Not some cryptic whispered warnings that made her sick to her stomach every time she thought of them.
“Then leave,” she said, turning away.
“Wait!” he exclaimed in a whispered cry. He reached out and pulled her back, his hands on her face, guiding her towards him as he kissed her, a furious and possessive kiss that stole her breath away and set her pulse racing. She wrestled herself away from his grip, and, gasping, she pushed him roughly away from her, stumbling back from the force of it, her bare feet catching on a sharp stone in the grass.
“Don’t you understand? You knew what was going to happen that night! You knew it because you were the mastermind behind it all. And because,” she cried furiously, her eyes pricking with hot tears, “…because you knew, I knew. And I just… I can’t breathe knowing that I knew and I said nothing.”
“I couldn’t…” he mumbled, looking away.
“Couldn’t what? From what I’ve heard about this past year, there’s not a lot you couldn’t do!” she snapped, thinking of Katie Bell and Dumbledore.
“I couldn’t do what I was supposed to do without you knowing,” he said finally, his eyes meeting hers, shining in the dark. She fought to keep her face neutral as she stared back, horrified with what he’d said. He stepped forward, grabbing her arm, as if it would force her to listen. “You had to know. I needed someone to know –“
“Know what? That you were behind it all? At how clever you are and how you were able to outwit Dumbledore?” Ginny cried, furious that she had to live with this guilt because of his ego. “That you’re everything a good Death Eater ought to be?”
“NO! That I’m… not! And you’re the only one!” he cried out, grabbing both her arms as she tried to dash away. “You’re the only who could be able to see it. That I couldn’t do it. I needed someone to know!”
“Dumbledore knew,” Ginny said, her soft words like a slap in the dark. She remembered Harry’s recount of Draco’s last conversation with the former Headmaster.
“He did.”
“You need to leave,” she said, tearing herself away. He nodded slowly and she started to back away, when a horrible thought struck her. Fear clamped around her chest like a vice, and it became almost impossible to breath. “How did you even find this place? It’s protected by a Fidelius Charm…”
His gray eyes stared gravelly at her, and Ginny felt as if the world was about to collapse under her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.
She stumbled away, concerned with only one thing – getting back to the house and raising the alarm, getting her family out. As she turned, a brilliant flash lit up the night sky as the house – along with her entire world – burst into flames. It was sudden, as if a lit match had found a fuel line, and the force of it threw her backwards against his body.
She was screaming, and could distantly hear her own shrieks above the din. Strong arms held her back, but she kicked and thrashed herself free, clawing at the arms that struggled to keep her next to him, to keep her safe. She could hear a voice hollering after her as she ran, bare footed, into the burning building, aware of only one thing; that everything she cared about, everything that mattered, was in there.
Weeks later, as she was still recovering from the third degree burns across the right side of her back and shoulder in St Mungo’s, she learned that Harry Potter had been killed, alongside his two best friends. With him died all hope she had of ever reclaiming her fate.
* * * *
Fifth year – spring
“Stay in your dormitory,” his voice said behind her, hovering near her ear. The sound of it sent a chill down her spine, even as the sound of his voice startled her to the core. He sounded desperate and deadly serious, and the fact that he was standing right behind her, his body so close to hers… she grappled with her desire turn and lunge at him, to experience everything she had a few weeks ago during that stolen hour in the soggy grass under the willow tree. But the need to keep that entire interaction a secret from everyone in her life won out, and she ignored it. She braced herself against the bookshelf she was facing, needing to feel something solid supporting her as her eyes darted around wildly, wondering if anyone could see them.
“No matter what happens, no matter what you hear… stay in your dormitory. Lock the door and stay there,” he whispered roughly. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she just knew that his eyes would have that piercing look that set her heart racing.
“Why should I?” she asked suspiciously, the first words she’d spoken to him ever since that day she encountered him in the owlery. Suddenly, his hands were gripping her elbow roughly, forcing her to turn to face him. His eyes bright and rimmed in red, he stared at her, a hard and penetrating look, and she felt a spike of fear cut through her.
“Just stay in your dormitory,” he spat furiously. With that, he released her arm, and turned sharply away from her and marched away. She watched him as he walked away, her fingers shaking slightly with fear. Something very terrible was on the horizon – it had been palpable in the atmosphere ever since the horrible incident at the Department of Mysteries the year before. But now it seemed as if it was all coming to a head, and Ginny felt deep within her soul that Draco Malfoy was somehow in the very center of that storm.
By the time that night was over, everything about her life would change. Death Eaters would attack the school, her brother would be permanently scarred and Dumbledore would be killed. And Ginny had been warned that something was going to happen, and had kept that warning to herself, and would have to, forever after that night, live with the terrible weight of the guilt that she’d known and hadn’t breathed a word to anyone.
* * * *
A few weeks later…
A permanent sick feeling lodged in her stomach, Ginny had crawled through her days since that night, playing along. When Harry Potter, the unknowingly noble character that he was, had ended their relationship, she’d gone through the motions, said exactly what was expected of her and was able to shed a tear or two rather convincingly. But deep inside, she was relieved. She wasn’t a match for the hero of the story, not after what had happened and the inadvertent and indirect part she’d played.
She had known, deep inside, that his warning was very serious. It was the only reason he ever would have spoken to her in such an exposed location, where anyone in the school could see. She had known that something terrible was going to happen, but didn’t say anything – because she was terrified they would ask how she knew, and then she’d have to reveal not only her source, but her recent interactions with him. And it was too private and precious to her. They were her stolen moments, her glimpse into “what could be” if only the world was completely different, and she hadn’t wanted to share them, to allow them to be dissected by Harry and her brother as they suspiciously examined every moment, looking for the hidden motive.
She didn’t want to find a hidden motive.
But now, she wanted nothing more than to be free of the endless refrains of ‘what ifs’ that were plaguing her every waking thought and haunting her dreams. Every idle second, her brain would spin out a new scenario where she did something differently, where she told the right person – who wouldn’t ask too many questions – and everything would turn out differently. They haunted her, added to the knot in her stomach and to the weight on her shoulders.
And she had barely a moment’s rest. She missed the wide open expanse of Hogwarts, the numerous hidden corridors and external buildings where she could lose herself for hours without coming across another person. Even the less-spectacular scenery of the Burrow would have been enough to satisfy her craving for space, but that was not to be. After the funeral, her family – except for Ron, who was off with Harry and Hermione, had returned to dark safety of Grimmauld Place, and the narrow space and general darkness of the building made her skin itch to be outdoors.
She had trouble sleeping at night, and her mum had explained it away, figuring that it was the anxiety and uncertainty of the times that was affecting her. There were a lot of mysterious comings and goings, always late at night, and her mother still insisted that “the children” be as sheltered from the brutal reality as possible. It only served to increase her sense of isolation.
One night, after the rest of the house was sleeping, she crept out the back, needing to feel some fresh air on her face before she completely lost her mind. But there was more to it than just guilt and the terrible sense that she’d played a part in some terrible destiny; it was as if something was calling out to her.
Ginny had barely stepped out into the weedy garden when she heard a whispered voice hissing her name. Immediately, her heart started to pound in her chest, and that magnetic force that seemed to overpower her common sense started to tingle in her toes and fingers. She stepped gingerly, dressed only in the large t-shirt she’d inherited from Bill, into the shadows, following the voice.
She was unsurprised when a hand reached out and grabbed her arm. He began pulling her away from the house, and she stumbled along, a thousand words clamoring to heard in her brain as she thought about what she was going to say to him. He stopped, several yards away, and turned to face her – a drawn, tight expression that did not at all resemble the arrogance he’d worn so easily before.
“You can’t be here,” she whispered, pulling her fingers away from his hand. He nodded wryly, before sighing heavily and running his hands through his hair; an exhausted teenager who was no longer simply a teenager and never would be again.
“How did you know I was out here?” he asked. She frowned, wondering the same thing. She just knew. She always just knew when he was in close proximity. It wasn’t a conscious choice.
“Why did you come here?” she demanded, pleadingly. He’d made her life enough of a lie already.
“I don’t know.” His voice was heavy with weariness, but there was also that same sense of dread and foreboding, that there was something terrible on the horizon. But this time, she didn’t want to hear the warning. She didn’t want to know. She wanted to surrender herself to fate and let that determine the course of her life. Not some cryptic whispered warnings that made her sick to her stomach every time she thought of them.
“Then leave,” she said, turning away.
“Wait!” he exclaimed in a whispered cry. He reached out and pulled her back, his hands on her face, guiding her towards him as he kissed her, a furious and possessive kiss that stole her breath away and set her pulse racing. She wrestled herself away from his grip, and, gasping, she pushed him roughly away from her, stumbling back from the force of it, her bare feet catching on a sharp stone in the grass.
“Don’t you understand? You knew what was going to happen that night! You knew it because you were the mastermind behind it all. And because,” she cried furiously, her eyes pricking with hot tears, “…because you knew, I knew. And I just… I can’t breathe knowing that I knew and I said nothing.”
“I couldn’t…” he mumbled, looking away.
“Couldn’t what? From what I’ve heard about this past year, there’s not a lot you couldn’t do!” she snapped, thinking of Katie Bell and Dumbledore.
“I couldn’t do what I was supposed to do without you knowing,” he said finally, his eyes meeting hers, shining in the dark. She fought to keep her face neutral as she stared back, horrified with what he’d said. He stepped forward, grabbing her arm, as if it would force her to listen. “You had to know. I needed someone to know –“
“Know what? That you were behind it all? At how clever you are and how you were able to outwit Dumbledore?” Ginny cried, furious that she had to live with this guilt because of his ego. “That you’re everything a good Death Eater ought to be?”
“NO! That I’m… not! And you’re the only one!” he cried out, grabbing both her arms as she tried to dash away. “You’re the only who could be able to see it. That I couldn’t do it. I needed someone to know!”
“Dumbledore knew,” Ginny said, her soft words like a slap in the dark. She remembered Harry’s recount of Draco’s last conversation with the former Headmaster.
“He did.”
“You need to leave,” she said, tearing herself away. He nodded slowly and she started to back away, when a horrible thought struck her. Fear clamped around her chest like a vice, and it became almost impossible to breath. “How did you even find this place? It’s protected by a Fidelius Charm…”
His gray eyes stared gravelly at her, and Ginny felt as if the world was about to collapse under her.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low.
She stumbled away, concerned with only one thing – getting back to the house and raising the alarm, getting her family out. As she turned, a brilliant flash lit up the night sky as the house – along with her entire world – burst into flames. It was sudden, as if a lit match had found a fuel line, and the force of it threw her backwards against his body.
She was screaming, and could distantly hear her own shrieks above the din. Strong arms held her back, but she kicked and thrashed herself free, clawing at the arms that struggled to keep her next to him, to keep her safe. She could hear a voice hollering after her as she ran, bare footed, into the burning building, aware of only one thing; that everything she cared about, everything that mattered, was in there.
Weeks later, as she was still recovering from the third degree burns across the right side of her back and shoulder in St Mungo’s, she learned that Harry Potter had been killed, alongside his two best friends. With him died all hope she had of ever reclaiming her fate.
* * * *
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