Ginny watched Draco’s form disappear into the castle. Her head of house did not give him a chance to talk before he was ushered through the doorways.
Ginny shivered as the wind picked up. The top of the castle was not the warmest place. She couldn’t even Accio her broom from here. If only she had Draco to keep her warm.
“Wanting something?” a voice hissed somewhere nearby.
She whirled around. At the corner of the platform was a small snake statue. “You weren’t there before,” Ginny murmured.
The stone snake hissed again. “Neither were you my dear, but that’s not the point.”
“What do you want from me?” Ginny said, watching the statue warily.
“What do I want from you? Nothing at all, my dear. No, the question is what do you want from me?”
“What do I want?” Ginny echoed.
“Yes, of course.” The silky voice laughed. “With our lovely snake that left just now.”
This broke Ginny out of her trance slightly. “With Malfoy? You’ve got to be kidding! I hardly know him. Don’t even like him that much.” She physically recoiled at the thought.
“Now what’s all this?” the statue purred, a glint in its lifeless eye. “I would think you’d be a little more appreciative of Draco. He did save your life.”
Her eyes were drawn to the statue’s green emeralds.
Ginny saw her reflection deep in the depths of those stone eyes. She looked so plain and ordinary. No one would want her. Not like this.
As she watched, her image twisted and distorted. Her lips became redder, more prominent. Her features became more mature, curvier. Her freckles cleared up as her body became more attractive.
Ginny didn’t notice any of this though. All she saw were the robes. The dark green Slytherin robes. She wanted that more than anything.
The snake just laughed.
Ginny looked up when someone shook her shoulder.
“Ron?” she said calmly. “How did you know I was up here?”
Her brother put a finger to his lips and gestured her over. “Someone told Colin you were up on the roof,” Ron whispered. “He wouldn’t tell us who.”
Ginny smiled and said a silent thank you to Malfoy for remembering her.
She swung her leg over Ron’s broom, settling in front of him. His warm body reminded her of the Slytherin who had just left.
They flew in the common room window, gently setting down next to the fire. When Ron tried to guide Ginny to her room she pulled away.
Noting the expression on her face, Ron nodded and walked up the stairs to his own room.
Ginny knelt down in front of the fire, picturing the face there. The face she hadn’t seen in many years.
“I don’t understand, Harry,” she spoke into the flames. “I loved you. I still do. Why? Why did ‘The Boy Who Lived’ have to die?” A few tears fell to the ground in front of the flames. “Should I let go, Harry? Even if not him, do I let go of you?”
She rose from the fire and picked up a piece of parchment. On it she made a loose heart.
Ginny went to the window looking out at the Forbidden Forest.
“I release this heart that I may know where mine own does lie. Should you hold my heart yet, so also hold this one. But if my heart be my own, return it free from harm. Let it be done.”
She let go of the paper watching the wind take it until she couldn’t see it anymore. Across the room the fire flashed.
Draco sat in his empty room. The room had been empty since Crabbe’s death. Greg hadn’t felt right in the room with just him and Draco in it. Not that he blamed him.
Still, these days the room seemed gigantic. There wasn’t anything to take up the space. No conversation or merriment. Not even someone snoring across the room. Draco had nothing but the cold stone walls.
He sighed. McGonagall hadn’t given him any punishment. Punishments had not been given all year. Not since Potter and Voldemort had died in the middle of the past year.
He spat at the fire and rose, heading back outside.
The air hadn’t warmed any, even though he could see the sun poking over the horizon. The sight reminded him of the red-head that he’d seen not too long ago. “Ginny,” he murmured. Her name felt odd on his lips.
Draco wandered into the forest. The dangerous wood was not that frightening to him these days. Not after last year. He sat down by a big tree. Its bulk blocked the wind nicely.
It wasn’t long before he heard a voice. “You are on our turf human.”
Draco looked up into the face of a centaur. The huge creature’s dark features were much the opposite of Draco’s near albino ones. Combining this with his size made him an imposing figure. He swallowed nervously, but stood calmly. “I apologize most humbly,” he said.
The creature sniffed the air. “You smell like a Malfoy. Are you mocking me, son of the arrogant family?”
Draco eyed the weapons at the creature’s side- a sword and crossbow- and swallowed nervously a second time. “In the past, I would have been.” He paused, but continued under the centaurs’ steady gaze, “Lately however, I’ve been trying to be less like my father and his ancestors.”
The creature eyed him closely. “You appear to be telling the truth, human of arrogant birth. I know not the reason for it, or for your presence in my home, but sit. Rest.”
He did, and the hulking figure lowered itself as well, folding its legs under it. After they had sat for awhile Draco spoke, “My name is-”
“Don’t!” the creature cut him off sharply. “The name is power. To share your name with one of the forest is a symbol of trust. Without trust comes death, or worse.”
“What’s worse than death?” Draco asked.
His companion looked at him. “You are one who should know this.”
Draco said nothing.
The forest dweller continued. “Here we describe one another in place of names. There are a fair amount of rules, but for now just pick something a bit longer.”
“So I could call you ‘Dark Protector of His Trees?’”
The centaur laughed. “I suppose you could. Now tell me what’s been bothering you?”
Draco looked at him cautiously.
“Come now,” the large creature laughed. “Why else would you be here?”
Draco nodded looking through the dark gnarled trees. “It’s only the Forbidden Forest,” he commented sarcastically, noting the fog drifting across the ground.
The centaur nodded and motioned for him to proceed.
Before Draco knew it the story was pouring from between his lips. He skipped over the statue speaking to him- assuming it would cause more confusion than necessary- but the rest of it flowed freely.
When he had finished speaking his mouth hung open a minute as if he was going to say more. When he noticed this he forcibly closed it.
The centaur was thoughtful a moment. “I would say you’ve had an interesting night.”
Draco nodded. “No shit.”
After another pause the creature asked, “If you like this girl, why do you not show it?”
Draco stared at him, open mouthed. “Like her? When did I say that?”
The other shrugged, “You did not, I inferred it. Was I wrong?”
Silence fell between them.
Finally the human spoke up. “Even if I did there are certain rules in society. I wouldn’t be able to show it even if I wanted to.”
“You and your rules.”
As Draco was about to respond he heard a twig snap in the distance. In one fluid movement the watcher of that which moves, had brought the crossbow from his flank and shot a bolt into the fog. “I think you should go now,” he said calmly.
The Malfoy heir rose. The centaur made no move to follow, so he walked off into the newly risen fog.
As the misty air swirled at his retreat, another form materialized from it. “You think you can trust him, Azlidun?” A female voice asked, the red hair and mane of the woman warming the foggy light from the moon.
“Yes, Naliana. The son of the Death Eater does not yet trust himself. That type of person can always be trusted.”
Draco made his way along the path out of the forest. The fog made it harder to follow, and the walk seemed longer than on the way in. Finally he reached the edge of the forest. A glance back at the path showed nothing, although Draco thought he saw a glint of green and heard something rustle through the invisible leaves.
He slowly made his way up to the castle, the centaur’s words ringing in his ears. “You and your rules.”
Since when had he listened to the rules? In his first few years at school he’d been told that rules were not for Slytherins, yet here he’d been following rules all along.
There was a fluttering sound and he looked up. A piece of paper blew into his chest, and the wind held it there. He looked up at the castle and noted the window of Gryfindor tower closing.
Draco looked at the piece of paper. On it was a lone heart, lightly scratched on the golden parchment.
“Hm…” Draco said, before he made his way into the dark dungeons; his spirits were somehow lighter than they had been before.
Ginny shivered as the wind picked up. The top of the castle was not the warmest place. She couldn’t even Accio her broom from here. If only she had Draco to keep her warm.
“Wanting something?” a voice hissed somewhere nearby.
She whirled around. At the corner of the platform was a small snake statue. “You weren’t there before,” Ginny murmured.
The stone snake hissed again. “Neither were you my dear, but that’s not the point.”
“What do you want from me?” Ginny said, watching the statue warily.
“What do I want from you? Nothing at all, my dear. No, the question is what do you want from me?”
“What do I want?” Ginny echoed.
“Yes, of course.” The silky voice laughed. “With our lovely snake that left just now.”
This broke Ginny out of her trance slightly. “With Malfoy? You’ve got to be kidding! I hardly know him. Don’t even like him that much.” She physically recoiled at the thought.
“Now what’s all this?” the statue purred, a glint in its lifeless eye. “I would think you’d be a little more appreciative of Draco. He did save your life.”
Her eyes were drawn to the statue’s green emeralds.
Ginny saw her reflection deep in the depths of those stone eyes. She looked so plain and ordinary. No one would want her. Not like this.
As she watched, her image twisted and distorted. Her lips became redder, more prominent. Her features became more mature, curvier. Her freckles cleared up as her body became more attractive.
Ginny didn’t notice any of this though. All she saw were the robes. The dark green Slytherin robes. She wanted that more than anything.
The snake just laughed.
Ginny looked up when someone shook her shoulder.
“Ron?” she said calmly. “How did you know I was up here?”
Her brother put a finger to his lips and gestured her over. “Someone told Colin you were up on the roof,” Ron whispered. “He wouldn’t tell us who.”
Ginny smiled and said a silent thank you to Malfoy for remembering her.
She swung her leg over Ron’s broom, settling in front of him. His warm body reminded her of the Slytherin who had just left.
They flew in the common room window, gently setting down next to the fire. When Ron tried to guide Ginny to her room she pulled away.
Noting the expression on her face, Ron nodded and walked up the stairs to his own room.
Ginny knelt down in front of the fire, picturing the face there. The face she hadn’t seen in many years.
“I don’t understand, Harry,” she spoke into the flames. “I loved you. I still do. Why? Why did ‘The Boy Who Lived’ have to die?” A few tears fell to the ground in front of the flames. “Should I let go, Harry? Even if not him, do I let go of you?”
She rose from the fire and picked up a piece of parchment. On it she made a loose heart.
Ginny went to the window looking out at the Forbidden Forest.
“I release this heart that I may know where mine own does lie. Should you hold my heart yet, so also hold this one. But if my heart be my own, return it free from harm. Let it be done.”
She let go of the paper watching the wind take it until she couldn’t see it anymore. Across the room the fire flashed.
Draco sat in his empty room. The room had been empty since Crabbe’s death. Greg hadn’t felt right in the room with just him and Draco in it. Not that he blamed him.
Still, these days the room seemed gigantic. There wasn’t anything to take up the space. No conversation or merriment. Not even someone snoring across the room. Draco had nothing but the cold stone walls.
He sighed. McGonagall hadn’t given him any punishment. Punishments had not been given all year. Not since Potter and Voldemort had died in the middle of the past year.
He spat at the fire and rose, heading back outside.
The air hadn’t warmed any, even though he could see the sun poking over the horizon. The sight reminded him of the red-head that he’d seen not too long ago. “Ginny,” he murmured. Her name felt odd on his lips.
Draco wandered into the forest. The dangerous wood was not that frightening to him these days. Not after last year. He sat down by a big tree. Its bulk blocked the wind nicely.
It wasn’t long before he heard a voice. “You are on our turf human.”
Draco looked up into the face of a centaur. The huge creature’s dark features were much the opposite of Draco’s near albino ones. Combining this with his size made him an imposing figure. He swallowed nervously, but stood calmly. “I apologize most humbly,” he said.
The creature sniffed the air. “You smell like a Malfoy. Are you mocking me, son of the arrogant family?”
Draco eyed the weapons at the creature’s side- a sword and crossbow- and swallowed nervously a second time. “In the past, I would have been.” He paused, but continued under the centaurs’ steady gaze, “Lately however, I’ve been trying to be less like my father and his ancestors.”
The creature eyed him closely. “You appear to be telling the truth, human of arrogant birth. I know not the reason for it, or for your presence in my home, but sit. Rest.”
He did, and the hulking figure lowered itself as well, folding its legs under it. After they had sat for awhile Draco spoke, “My name is-”
“Don’t!” the creature cut him off sharply. “The name is power. To share your name with one of the forest is a symbol of trust. Without trust comes death, or worse.”
“What’s worse than death?” Draco asked.
His companion looked at him. “You are one who should know this.”
Draco said nothing.
The forest dweller continued. “Here we describe one another in place of names. There are a fair amount of rules, but for now just pick something a bit longer.”
“So I could call you ‘Dark Protector of His Trees?’”
The centaur laughed. “I suppose you could. Now tell me what’s been bothering you?”
Draco looked at him cautiously.
“Come now,” the large creature laughed. “Why else would you be here?”
Draco nodded looking through the dark gnarled trees. “It’s only the Forbidden Forest,” he commented sarcastically, noting the fog drifting across the ground.
The centaur nodded and motioned for him to proceed.
Before Draco knew it the story was pouring from between his lips. He skipped over the statue speaking to him- assuming it would cause more confusion than necessary- but the rest of it flowed freely.
When he had finished speaking his mouth hung open a minute as if he was going to say more. When he noticed this he forcibly closed it.
The centaur was thoughtful a moment. “I would say you’ve had an interesting night.”
Draco nodded. “No shit.”
After another pause the creature asked, “If you like this girl, why do you not show it?”
Draco stared at him, open mouthed. “Like her? When did I say that?”
The other shrugged, “You did not, I inferred it. Was I wrong?”
Silence fell between them.
Finally the human spoke up. “Even if I did there are certain rules in society. I wouldn’t be able to show it even if I wanted to.”
“You and your rules.”
As Draco was about to respond he heard a twig snap in the distance. In one fluid movement the watcher of that which moves, had brought the crossbow from his flank and shot a bolt into the fog. “I think you should go now,” he said calmly.
The Malfoy heir rose. The centaur made no move to follow, so he walked off into the newly risen fog.
As the misty air swirled at his retreat, another form materialized from it. “You think you can trust him, Azlidun?” A female voice asked, the red hair and mane of the woman warming the foggy light from the moon.
“Yes, Naliana. The son of the Death Eater does not yet trust himself. That type of person can always be trusted.”
Draco made his way along the path out of the forest. The fog made it harder to follow, and the walk seemed longer than on the way in. Finally he reached the edge of the forest. A glance back at the path showed nothing, although Draco thought he saw a glint of green and heard something rustle through the invisible leaves.
He slowly made his way up to the castle, the centaur’s words ringing in his ears. “You and your rules.”
Since when had he listened to the rules? In his first few years at school he’d been told that rules were not for Slytherins, yet here he’d been following rules all along.
There was a fluttering sound and he looked up. A piece of paper blew into his chest, and the wind held it there. He looked up at the castle and noted the window of Gryfindor tower closing.
Draco looked at the piece of paper. On it was a lone heart, lightly scratched on the golden parchment.
“Hm…” Draco said, before he made his way into the dark dungeons; his spirits were somehow lighter than they had been before.
Author notes: Those of you who are confused by Azlidun's actions, don't worry. All shall be explained. Just keep reading, just keep reading...
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