Tentatively, Ginny poked her head into the grand ballroom from one of the landings of the sweeping staircase. Narcissa overlooked the room from the top of the stairs, directing House Elves in their preparations. The elves scuttled about, decking the enormous room in navy blue and tannish-gold, the colors of the Aurors. The room itself stood nearly three stories tall, floor-to-ceiling windows looking out on a stunning view of the garden and Quidditch pitch beyond, framed between arching pillars of marble.

As she watched, a navy banner unfolded against the far wall, emblazoned with the Ministry of Magic seal in brilliant gold.

Narcissa smiled at Ginny as she climbed the stairs, dismissing the House Elf she’d been talking to. “I think the decorations are coming along quite nicely. What do you think?”

Ginny nodded, nearly awe-struck. The dark, neutral wood of the walls and floor finally made sense--they beautifully complemented the new tapestries, making the room itself feel completely changed. “I think it looks smashing.”

"I'm glad," Narcissa smiled. "It's been awhile since we've hosted anything. I know Draco doesn't miss it, but I certainly do."

“Ginny!”

She turned at the voice. Blaise hustled down the stairs, already dressed in his tux, and looking sharper than ever. She felt hilariously underdressed, not having bothered to even change out of her sneakers yet. He flashed her a charming grin. “I’d love some help, if you’re not otherwise occupied.”

Ginny accepted his proffered arm, grateful for the interruption. “I’d love to. What do you need?”

Strolling down the stairs with her, he supplied, “It’s about the Quidditch match. I’m assuming you’ll join Warrington and me as a Chaser?”

She raised an eyebrow. “What makes you think I won’t play for the Weasleys’? I am one, you know.”

But Blaise chuckled. “You wouldn’t have suggested the match if that were the case. Unless it’s your goal to see Slytherin Squad get it’s arse handed to it?”

“Is that a thinly veiled compliment I hear?” Ginny grinned.

Reaching over with his other arm, Blaise mussed her hair. “Only if you’re playing for us. If you’re playing for the Weasleys, then good riddance.”

Ginny squawked at his hand, trying to restore some semblance of order to her hair. “Of course I’m playing for the squad! What do you have in mind?”

“I crunched the positions. You, me, and Warrington are Chasers, Draco’s our Seeker, Goyle and Daphne are our Beaters--”

“Daphne plays?”

He nodded vigorously. “Her parents disapproved, and Crabbe was always better back in school…” Blaise trailed off, distracted by memories. Abruptly, he cleared his throat and continued. “But the point is that we’re down a Keeper. Know any Aurors who don’t hate our guts?”

“That is a tough one. Don’t know about Malfoy, but you they can’t stand.”

“And here I always thought you were the repulsive one, Weaselette.”

Draco waited silently at the bottom of the stairs. Also already in his dress robes, he looked the epitome of Wizarding elegance. "Done flirting with my girlfriend, Zabini?"

Blaise grinned, kissing the back of Ginny's hand. "Never."

Rolling her eyes, Ginny walked the last few steps down to Draco. "Did you need something?"

"Yes, actually," Draco replied. "Are you still in touch with Oliver Wood?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "We're not bringing in a professional Quidditch player to an Auror party. That's totally cheating."

"But we'd win," Blaise whined.

"I thought the idea was to get the Weasleys to like us," Ginny said.

"Also to win," Draco responded. "Winning is important."

A wonderful, devious idea hit Ginny, of someone who loved Quidditch, but had never gotten the chance to play. "I have someone in mind. But both of you have to promise to be extra nice."

Blaise frowned. "I'm always nice. When they can't catch my sarcasm, at least."

Draco sulked. "My list of people I have to be extra-nice to is already too long."

"I could have sworn our squad was desperate for an Auror who'd play," Ginny taunted them. "If I was wrong, you're both more than welcome to find your own Keeper."

With an overly dramatic sigh, Draco relented. "Time for a self-control marathon!"

 

 

Slytherin Squad formed a greeting line in the foyer of Malfoy Manor, every one of them impeccably formal and on their best behavior. Even Goyle looked presentable, and Warrington had scrounged up a black tie somewhere, even if it was dangling at an angle. Daphne started the line, bedecked in sapphires and an elegant navy gown meant to imitate Auror dress robes, but oh so flatteringly. Ginny, Draco, and Narcissa ended it, welcoming the guests into the Malfoy home.

Draco chuckled at Ginny's choice of dress. "I believe when my mother handed that dress to you, it was a neutral shade of turquoise."

Ginny swished the floor-length skirt of the now-emerald gown. "I thought this color made a better statement." She smiled mischievously at him. "You disagree?"

He wrapped an arm affectionately around her. She looked absolutely stunning in Slytherin's colors, red hair falling elegantly against her bare shoulders. "Not in the slightest."

Hermione and Fred greeted the squad, looking surprisingly sharp as they walked down the line.

Fred kept an arm wrapped reassuringly around his wife, whom Draco belatedly realized looked ill-at-ease in his house. Can't imagine why, he commented sarcastically to himself.

Stepping out of the line, Draco gave her his most gracious smile. "Allow me to show you my home."

Fred looked wary, but Hermione just tried a nervous smile. "Alright."

He led them into the ballroom. Mountains of food heaped onto a side buffet table, with dozens of smaller tables scattered about to sit at, and a string quartet warmed up in the back by the dance floor, but most importantly--

"You've remodeled," Hermione breathed in relief.

Draco gave a sharp nod. "If you spot anything we've missed, do not hesitate to inform me, and it will be incinerated on the spot."

"Thank you," she said honestly.

But Draco shrugged. "It's not like we did it for you--"

Fred glared.

"--but I figured you'd appreciate it," he concluded with a wry grin.

"I do, very much so." She gestured towards the biggest addition, the windows onto the garden. Now that the sun had set, fairy lights glittered from among the branches of the trees, casting a faint, ethereal glow back into the house. "It looks positively magical."

"I thought so myself." Draco excused himself, heading back to his squad, and leaving the Weasleys to mingle.

Soon enough, the majority of the Aurors arrived, and the squad rejoined the guests. Goyle made a beeline for the food.

Kingsley Shacklebolt ambled over, clapping Draco affectionately on the shoulder. “Nearly all of the Aurors are here so far. Apparently no one wants to miss out on a Malfoy party now that they’re invited.”

His mood fell, taking the statement in the opposite way to Kingsley's intended meaning. “I don’t think they would have enjoyed the previous ones,” Draco replied softly.

Warrington stumbled over, completely oblivious. The abundance of food on his plate indicated another futile attempt at an eating contest with Goyle. “It’s the food! It doesn’t stop coming!” He happily plopped next to Goyle at a table.

Kingsley smiled. “I think I’ll take his excellent suggestion.”

Looking at the two normally quiet members of the squad, Draco winced. It wouldn’t be long before Narcissa descended on Goyle and Warrington in indignation at the state of her table.

The mother in question caught his eye, pointedly glaring. With a sigh, Draco made his rounds as the dutiful host, greeting the few he’d missed on the way in.

Potter cleared his throat from behind him. Draco turned reluctantly, wishing there’d been some way to uninvite him specifically. There hadn’t been. Draco had tried.

"I hear you're dating Ginny," Potter offered casually.

"What of it?" Draco snapped. Dealing with Potter as Ginny's ex sounded bloody awful on every level. "I hear you're happily married so what business is it of yours?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "I was going to congratulate you and tell you to treat her right. She's a good girl." With a smirk, he added, "It's called a peace offering."

“Thank you, Potter,” Draco gritted through clenched teeth.

But Potter laughed. “Don’t pull a muscle, Malfoy! Now you know how it feels.”

Slowly, Draco's tension drained. He chuckled. “If this is what friendliness with you is like, I’ve had my fill for a year.”

Smiling easily, Potter nodded agreement. As Potter was about to walk away, Luna strode up to Draco very seriously in her brilliant pink and green dress. Harry stiffened behind her, subtly shifting his hand to his wand.

Draco swore internally. He’d remembered the Golden Trio’s unfortunate memories of the place, but forgotten about the Lovegood girl entirely. An unfortunate number of people spotted Luna with Draco and grew silent. With trepidation, he awaited her declaration.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she stated seriously, her grey eyes wide. “Your house is much lovelier now. Are those real fairies in the trees?”

“Yes,” Draco responded, still tense. “They flock to the trees when we hang nectar in them.”

Luna nodded thoughtfully. “I was wondering how you’d managed to get them so evenly spaced.” With a smile, she added, “You should re-do the dungeon next. I think it would make a great wine cellar.”

“I’ll get on that,” he replied weakly.

Apparently pleased, she flounced off with a smile. Harry shrugged and followed after.

Ginny appeared by Draco's side, putting a well-needed hand on his arm. "She's a fantastic friend," the redhead added softly. "I wish you'd get a chance to know her better."

"I think I'd like that," he replied equally quietly. It stunned him how quickly Luna had moved past their bloody awful history.

Daphne sashayed over, one elegant eyebrow raised. “Are you two planning to eat at any point? We snagged a table with the twins and Granger.”

“Yay, the twins,” Blaise deadpanned.

Ginny turned to Draco with a smile. “Do you have other host-ly duties to attend to?”

A curl fell into her face, and he brushed it back with a finger. “My mother can handle the horde for a few minutes.”

Piling their plates high with scrumptious foods of all kinds, they joined the group at their table.

"Ok, so I've got to know," Daphne eagerly asked Hermione, "what's the weirdest thing that happened to you while helping Harry?"

Hermione seriously pondered the question. Then laughed a moment later. "Definitely Polyjuicing as Bellatrix to get into her vault."

Luckily, Draco had not yet taken a sip of his drink or he would have spewed it over the table.

She giggled. "It was quite frightening, really. But looking back, knowing we made it out alright on the dragon and everything, it's quite amusing. Easily the most bizarre thing that's happened."

He had to be hearing things. "I'm sorry, did you just say that you pretended to be my aunt and the goblins believed you?"

The conversation stopped cold. Hermione swallowed. "Yes, well, it was quite difficult, and we only took the Horcrux--"

"You misunderstand me," Draco interrupted before everything spiraled out of control. "My aunt Bellatrix gave dead roosters as Christmas presents. Believe me, there was no love lost there." He smiled tightly. "I just can't imagine anyone more completely opposite her than you."

The tension visibly drained from the table. Fred grinned at his wife. "That sounds like a fairly nice compliment."

She laughed. "I'll take it as one. And yes, it was, if you'll pardon my language, bloody hard."

Ginny grinned, immensely enjoying the meshing of the two groups. "Harry got off easy, just hiding under his cloak."

"Harry always gets off easy," Draco growled without thinking.

To his surprise, Hermione and the twins laughed.

"It's either completely true or completely false," Hermione barely managed through her laughter. "He has the most infuriatingly gifted and cursed life of anyone I know. Oftentimes simultaneously."

The twins nodded agreement. "He's handed an invisibility cloak--" George started.

"--stumbles onto the Philosopher's Stone," Fred finished.

"Discovers he's a Parseltongue--"

"--has to fight a basilisk."

"WE give him the Marauder's Map, thank you very much--"

"--fights his parents' murderer and a werewolf."

"Gets drafted into the Tri-Wizard Tournament--"

"Alright, I get it!" Draco threw his hands up in surrender.

Ginny chuckled next to him. "I think fate and time itself might literally revolve around him. It's fairly annoying."

"Let me guess," Daphne volunteered. "It's not really a sane life?"

"Hardly," Ginny snorted.

"Which is why Luna's so good for him," Hermione interjected sagely. "She keeps him sane."

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "How in the world...?"

Ginny just shrugged, taking another bite. "Luna's one of the sanest people I know. She hides it well."

"I'll say," Blaise snorted.

Hermione, Ginny, and the twins frowned, about to come to her defense.

"She's far nicer than she needs to be," Draco volunteered quietly. Blaise took the hint and backed off.

"Speaking of," Hermione glanced between Draco and Ginny, the mischievous glint making him nervous, "I have yet to receive the appropriate inter-office relations form from either of you."

Blaise tsked at them, shaking his head. "Such debauchery in our squad. Our Lieutenant takes shameless advantage of our Captain and doesn't even file the proper form! What will the Minister say?!"

Fred looked up thoughtfully. "I believe he laughed, and said, and I quote, 'Serves them right.' "

Draco couldn't keep from grinning at the gorgeous redhead next to him. "I didn't even know they had forms."

Ginny looked slightly guilty. "I did. I just would have had to file it with, uh, Harry."

Snickers erupted around the table. "I'll take them for you tomorrow, Ginny," Hermione giggled, enjoying this far too much. "You don't have to hand Harry a form detailing the nature of your relationship."

This time Draco did choke on his wine. "A what?!"

Daphne nearly died laughing. "And any Auror who 'needs to know' can pull up the file! I bet it'll make another front-page article just by itself!"

"Not in the Daily Prophet, it won't," Draco growled. He turned to Hermione. "Why exactly is this any of the Ministry's damn business?"

Hermione sobered. "It would be merely a formality, if you weren't Captain. As such, an appearance of favoritism could be devastating."

"It's not like this is war," Draco scoffed. "I'm not sending anyone to die."

"You might have to," Ginny supplied quietly. "If the squad's in a bad way and someone has to take the fall so everyone can make it--"

"I'll take volunteers, or something."

Fred gave him a level stare. "On a squad with exactly one Gryffindor, you'd ask for volunteers?"

Draco's heart dropped into his stomach. This was why he'd never intended to be Captain. "I'll think of something," he replied hoarsely.

Staring down at his plate, the food suddenly lost all appeal. The table continued chattering on, blissfully unaware of his predicament.

Abruptly, Draco stood. He gave a polite, forced smile to the table. "If you'll excuse me." He strode off towards the nearest door, not caring in the slightest where it led, as long as it was away from human beings.

The clicking of hurried steps followed after him. "Draco?" Ginny called. After they stepped through the door and into the library, she added, "Are you alright?"

By way of answer, he pulled her against him, kissing her desperately. She responded, letting him back her against the books.

Finally, he attempted an explanation. "I can't..." Draco kissed her again, gathering his nerves. He leaned his head against hers, barely speaking in more than a whisper. "I can't even send Warrington to die, let alone you," he breathed. "I don't care if it's the worst kind of favoritism; I'm just not doing it."

She smiled softly, stretching up to kiss him again. "Don't worry. I'm most useful guarding your back anyway. We're excellent partners."

"We are," Draco growled, pleased. "And I'm selfish. You belong to me, not to the squad."

Ginny laughed playfully. "Aye, aye, Captain!"

Dozens of wonderful new ideas bounced around inside his head. "Really? You'll actually take orders from me?"

He knew his eagerness gave him away, but Ginny just smirked. "Of course. Keep in mind, anything ordered in a work capacity will need to be noted on the forms to Hermione."

"Kiss me, Lieutenant," he grinned, ordering anyway.

"Mmm, such abuses of power!" Ginny complied eagerly.

 

 

Blaise and Daphne corned them the moment Ginny and Draco re-entered the ballroom.

"I bet Daphne a good few galleons the two of you were off snogging," Blaise drawled, far too proud of himself.

"We would never do such an immature thing," Draco replied imperiously, straightening his collar. Daphne discreetly motioned to some lipstick on his cheek. Hastily, he scrubbed his hand across it. Looking at his hand in puzzlement, nothing was there. Daphne grinned triumphantly.

"A bet which I refused to take," Daphne clarified. "Because I knew you were off snogging."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ginny replied in equally imperious tones. "Draco, don't you have a party to host?"

"I most certainly do," he responded, ignoring Blaise and Daphne's derisive snickers. "And I require your assistance, Ginevra."

After they walked out of earshot, Ginny leaned towards Draco. "I already want to kiss you again."

He grinned. "Perhaps we can grab a quiet moment after a Quidditch victory?"

"Sounds fantastic."

Spotting them from the other end of the room, Narcissa glided over. "Draco darling, I've been looking for you!" With one glance at his hair, she immediately reached to fuss with it.

Draco dodged her meddling hands from years of experience. "What do you want, Mother?" he snapped.

She sighed at the lost cause. "We need to open the dance floor. Are you ready?"

He turned to Ginny. "We'll be ready in a moment."

Ginny's stomach clambered into her throat as Narcissa walked off. "You didn't mention that we'd have to start the dancing!"

Draco shrugged. "I figured you knew to assume it." Studying her closely, he tilted his head inquisitively. "Will that be a problem?"

Forcibly calming her nerves, Ginny shook her head. "I'll be ok."

He gave her a wry grin. "Dancing with me is only 'ok'?"

"It is with every Auror watching!" Ginny retorted hotly.

Laughing, he wrapped an arm around her waist. "It's not that bad. You'll see. Just don't look away from me, and follow my lead." Draco led her onto the floor, where they joined his mother and Minister Shacklebolt.

The string quartet started up again, and they were off, Draco leading her expertly around the floor as his mother danced with the Minister.

"You've definitely had proper lessons," Ginny grumbled at his skill.

Draco smirked. "Of course. What, they had to teach you for the Yule Ball?"

She nodded. "And I don't think I've danced formally since." A thought hit her, and she couldn’t repress her giggles. "How did Snape manage to teach you guys?"

He chuckled fondly. "Snape barged into the Common Room, declared that anyone who didn't know how to dance by now shouldn't be fool enough to try in public, and barged out." Draco smirked. "It was highly instructional."

"McGonagall danced with Ron to show us how," Ginny snickered. "Fred and George still tease him about it."

Draco frowned in concentration. "I vaguely remember seeing you at the Yule Ball, but not with Potter..."

The question hung in the air. "I went with Neville Longbottom. He's a good friend."

Draco made a face. "But he's...Neville."

"And a good friend," Ginny repeated, ignoring Draco's implications. "He's here tonight, if you didn't know. Only stopped being an Auror last year."

"Lovely," Draco drawled. "I haven't run into him or most of your brothers so far--just more things to look forward to."

She laughed, rolling her eyes at him. "You'll survive."

"As this has not been tested yet, I'm surprised at your confidence." He raised an eyebrow.

Other couples surrounded them now, making the dancing far less intimidating. Ginny looked around, surprised that she hadn't noticed.

"See?" Draco drawled, noting her surprise. "It's not so bad." Glancing at the clock on the wall, a wicked grin spread across his face, driving out all other thoughts. “Gather your family. It’s time.”

 

 

 

Guests flocked to the various balconies of Malfoy Manor for a good view of the Quidditch match. Lights flared from atop the house, brilliantly illuminating the pitch despite the dark of the night.

Formal attire discarded, Slytherin Squad stood in emerald green uniforms, a glittering gold serpent writhing on the chest. Daphne’s clever idea lent an air of professionalism to the team, encouraging their thirst for victory.

As his faithful squad clustered around him, Draco gleefully rubbed his gloved hands. “The Weasleys may have fought together before, but we have an advantage--a double agent.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “Don’t you mean played together before?”

Draco shrugged away the insignificant correction. “Ginny? What can you tell us about their strategy?”

Ginny grinned devilishly, thoroughly infected with Draco’s competitive mood. “Their Chasers will be the weak spot. Harry and Charlie are both excellent Seekers, but whichever one is forced to play Chaser will be less than gifted. Bill’s only passable as a Chaser.”

“And the third?” Blaise questioned, but Ginny shrugged.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” The Lieutenant turned to Goyle and Daphne, bats in hand. “Fred and George are the main ones to watch for. They’re the most coordinated Beaters I’ve ever seen, including professional teams. Forget about trying to separate them--it won’t work. Just keep on your toes and protect what you can.”

“I’m plenty good,” Daphne scowled, insulted.

Blaise put a hand on her shoulder. “Did you miss the part where the twins could play professionally?”

“No,” she grimaced, but relented.

“And you’ve all played against the Weasel King before,” Draco drawled. “Keep him off his guard and we should be fine.”

Fiendishly, Ginny smirked. “Oh, we’ll be more than fine. I’ve practiced my shots against Ron too many times to worry. If you think you won’t make it, pass to me. I’ll gladly score on my darling brother.”

His finger bobbing as he counted, Warrington frowned. “Don’t we need another player? Who’s our Keeper?”

Blaise and Draco looked expectantly to Ginny. “He said he’d come…” she trailed off.

Daphne examined the extra uniform in her hands, an empty spot on the back saved for the unknown last name.

Draco sighed. “Warrington, you’ll be Keeper. I guess we’ll play a Chaser down.”

Right on cue, a figure chugged across the field. “Sorry I’m late!” Neville panted. “No one believed me when I said I was playing.”

The Slytherins stared in disgust, amusement, revulsion, and disbelief at the despised Gryffindor.

“Be nice,” Ginny hissed under her breath.

Awkward silence stretched as the Slytherins had nothing nice to say, and hence said nothing at all.

Blaise “accidentally” bumped into Daphne, forcing her to stumble towards Neville. “Here’s your uniform,” she gritted out, magically adding ‘Longbottom’ to the back. Her smile should have peeled paint.

Neville took it happily. “Thanks! Never got the chance to do more than practice before.”

“How perfect.” Sarcasm dripped from Blaise.

Rolling her eyes at her failures for teammates, Ginny stepped forward. “Thanks for joining us on such short notice, Neville. We were tearing our hair out trying to find a Keeper who’d actually play with the Slytherins. The squad and I really owe you one.” The last phrase was pointedly emphasized, with a glare at Draco for good measure.

“If you guys really have turned good, there’s no reason for hard feelings, right?” Slipping on the uniform, Neville shrugged. “Besides, Ginny’s got as much reason as I do to hate Slytherins.”

Blaise raised an eyebrow. “There’s clear proof that her judgment is highly fallible.”

More and more, Draco realized that being Captain had a vastly different definition than he’d always been led to believe. More often than giving orders and expecting them to be followed, it meant sucking it up and doing exactly what you least wanted to.

Barely restraining himself from wincing, Draco stuck out a hand. “Welcome to the team, Longbottom. I hope you’re as good as Ginny’s led us to believe.”

Neville shook it, not much less reluctantly than Draco had offered it. “I hope I don’t let her down.”

Blaise forced a grin. "Ginny, Warrington, and I plan to dominate the Weasleys enough that they forget you exist."

Neville chuckled nervously. "Sounds like a good plan to me."

The Weasley team stalked out onto the other end of the pitch, each one wearing their lettered Weasley Sweater. Ron played Keeper, Fred and George were Beaters, all as expected, but Charlie walked out in Seeker's gear, with Harry, Bill and--

"Luna's a Chaser?" Draco asked, incredulous.

Ginny frowned. "Just a commentator, far as I knew. Guess we'll find out if she's any good."

Minister Shacklebolt launched the balls into the air, and the game was off.

Draco shot into the sky, scanning furiously for the small golden ball. Below him, Ginny clutched the quaffle, weaving past Harry and Luna with Blaise and Warrington trailing closely behind.

Apprehensively, Draco watched Charlie. One could tell a talented Seeker from their stance, the authority and ease with which they surveyed the pitch. Charlie looked as if he felt more at home on a broom than his own feet.

Ginny passed to Warrington for a quick score, Ron barely missing it, 10 to 0 so far.

But as Draco looked down at the game below, he started to feel uncomfortably warm and lightheaded. Shaking off the jitters, he tried to focus again on the game. With no Snitch in sight, it was not an easy task. Soon, he felt bloody awful.

The warmth intensified, spreading out into his arms. Specifically, his left arm.

Horrified panic hit a moment before the pain. His left arm exploded, white hot agony searing through it. This particular brand of pain was all-too-familiar. Draco's vision swam as he desperately clutched his broom with the other arm. Even so, concentration came only in brief snatches.

Charlie looked over with concern. "You alright, Malfoy?"

Swearing internally, Draco knew it wouldn't be long before his sudden ailment attracted attention. Attention from Aurors that he could desperately do without.

Only one option in mind, he dove furiously, clutching his useless left arm to his chest. Charlie chased after him, assuming Draco was hot on the tail of the Snitch. At the last second, Draco swerved, slamming his side into the base of the goalpost. He collapsed dramatically from his broom.

Actual crippling pain simplified faking an injury. "Time out!" he wheezed.

The squad swooped down, flocking around their Captain. Ginny's face contorted with concern. "That looked like a hard blow. Are you ok?"

Draco violently shook his head. Clasping his arm protectively, he gritted out, "Can't play. Figure something out."

Hoping that qualified as a plausible excuse, but done caring if it didn't, Draco whipped out his wand, Apparating to the privacy of his room.

The moment his familiar walls surrounded him, Draco ripped open his sleeve. Gone was the faded scar of The Mark. Instead, it glowed an angry red on his skin. As he watched, the black ink resurfaced into the familiar pattern, the snake writhing as it emerged from the skull.

The pain intensified. Draco dropped helplessly to his bed, clutching the arm in a futile attempt to deaden the pain. Never had the burning been this terrible--not even when Draco originally received it. None of the angry summons from Voldemort held a candle to this pain.

Distantly, he realized the fireplace was ringing. Obviously ignoring it, Draco caught sight of the face. Instantly, he leapt towards it, dropping to his knees to keep from collapsing.

"Snape!" Draco clamoured desperately. "It's burning for you too?"

"Yes," the older man gritted out, face contorted in agony. "I hoped you'd have an idea as to why."

Draco shook his head. "I was playing Quidditch. There are hordes of Aurors in my house right now."

"No one did anything...suspicious?"

"Not that I know of," Draco ground out. A trickle of blood dribbled out between the clenched fingers wrapped around his forearm. "Do you know anything?"

Thin-lipped, Snape shook his head. "Nothing unusual," he barely managed around his own pain. "I must go." He severed the connection.

Draco understood all-too-well. Without the will to make it back to his bed, he toppled onto the carpet. All he could do was wait it out.

Wave after wave of agony washed over him, blurring time into obscurity. After what seemed an eternity, a knock sounded at his door.

"Go away!" Draco yelled furiously.

The door crept open. "Draco?" Ginny's worried voice called. "Your mother said I'd find you here."

Before he could stop her, she stepped into the room. Her eyes widened at the sight.

Lying on the floor curled into a ball, blood coated Draco's arms, spreading into a rapidly-growing puddle beneath him.

Wordlessly, she dropped to her knees beside him, summoning a bandage. Gingerly, she pried his Marked arm from his bloody fingers. She wrapped his arm with the bandage, fingers lightly brushing his raw skin.

"I'll be fine," Draco whispered hoarsely. "It's not the first time."

Ginny's mouth drew into a line. "It is for me. Does ice help?"

Weakly, he nodded. She summoned that as well, the cold seeping in through the now-bloodstained cloth. It distracted from the pain, if nothing else. "Just don't tell my mother."

She barely managed a small grin. "Your secret's safe with me."

Pulling his head onto her lap, she gently ran her now-bloody fingers through his hair. Draco didn't mind. Ginny distracted wonderfully from his throbbing arm. It already felt better from her care.

Her fingers gently caressing him, Draco dropped off to sleep.

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