Opening the Gate

Only love can ease the pain

Of a boy caught in the rain

-Weezer (December)

Once they landed on the lawn outside the Black House, Draco hurriedly wiped off his trousers and made his way inside. Ginny got up to follow him but Harry grabbed her shoulder.

"Hold on, I think we need to talk," he said sternly, and obediently sat down on the grass with him and the others.

"You need to quit following Malfoy around like that. It's stupid on your part," he said harshly.

"Why is that?" she retorted, the anger she had towards Draco slowly switching towards Harry.

"Don't play stupid, you know what I'm talking about." Harry stopped for a few moments, but when she didn't answer he continued. "Does the Chamber of Secrets ring a bell?"

Everything went silent; no one had mentioned that incident for over three years. Ron looked nervously at Harry and then at his sister.

"That was an accident!" Ginny said defensively

"So what?" spat Harry. "That's not the point. The point is the Dark Arts always gets the best of you. You are so easy for them manipulate."

"What about the Mysteries Department? I did fine there."

"First off," he said arrogantly, "it's the Department of Mysteries. Secondly, what happened to Ron? How come you couldn't save him?"

"Don't go there, Harry," spoke Ron, quietly.

"It's true though! She should have been able to protect her own brother, as he does for her!"

"I tried," she said between the slowly falling tears. "I honestly did. I turned my back for one moment and-"

"One moment is all that it takes to lose everything," Harry said, coldly.

As if on cue Draco came back outside, still dressed in the suit and robes he wore to the funeral.

"Mrs. Weasley wants all of you guys to come back inside and get ready for dinner."

"Excuse me," Ginny said viciously to Harry, then ran into the house.

When she got back inside she kept running up the stairs and threw herself onto her bed. She laid her face down on the cool crimson sheets, gripping the cotton material tightly in her hands as she sobbed. Why was all of this happening to her? And now she didn't even have Draco to talk to. Ginny felt her eyes getting heavier with each falling tear until she fell asleep.

***

"Ginny? Ginny, are you okay?"

Ginny groaned and turned over to see whose voice it was.

Hermione smiled nervously down at her.

"Oh, it's just you," Ginny said and rolled back over. Her eyes were feeling sore from all the crying she had done.

"Just listen to me for a couple of seconds," Hermione begged.

"I can hear you fine from here," mumbled Ginny through the sheets.

"Well, I guess we got off to a rough start at the beginning of the summer," began Hermione slowly. "You have to understand that Harry and I have genuine feelings for each other, not that your feelings for him are any less real or important, it's just-"

"I don't care about Harry," said Ginny, and surprisingly she felt much better admitting this.

"I know all those things he said out there were pretty nasty, and a bit uncalled for, but-"

"No," interrupted Ginny, sitting up and looking into Hermione's eyes. "No one ever listens to what I have to say or takes me seriously, except for one person. I don't care about Harry."

A smile spread across Hermione's face as if she knew something Ginny didn't.

"Did someone take Harry's place?" she asked.

"No."

She just smiled back and nodded. Ginny was really starting to hate how people told her not to "follow" certain people and how her "friends" were constantly making choices for her. No one ever believed what she said, they acted as if they knew something about her that she didn't. Who could possibly know her better than herself?

After a long, awkward silence between the two, Hermione spoke.

"So are we friends again?"

"We've never been friends," said Ginny skeptically, "but we're okay."

Hermione smiled a weak sort of smile.

"Do you want to go downstairs and get some brunch?" she asked.

"What?" Ginny bolted up. "I slept through dinner and breakfast? And no one woke me up?"

"Well Draco came in last night, but he said you were sleeping. He offered to bring you some dinner, but your mom said it was best to wait," said Hermione.

Ginny suspected Draco had taken another peek in her underwear drawer last night too, the pervert.

"Your mum saved you breakfast," assured Hermione.

Ginny got out of bed and followed Hermione to the door. As she was turning the knob, a thought struck Ginny.

"So if I slept through breakfast Draco already left for the Manor, right?"

Another one of those smiles crept across Hermione's face again. Just because she was at the top of her year didn't mean she knew all.

"Right, he left after he finished eating," said Hermione. "Come on, you must be starved."

Ginny was hungry; she hadn't eaten since noon yesterday. She just nodded, and followed Hermione out of the bedroom.

***

Draco stood in the completely empty front hall of Malfoy Manor. The walls were stripped of everything, and the floor was bare. He walked into the left wing drawing room. It too was empty, even the giant painting above the fireplace was gone. Draco made his way room by room inside the Manor, picking up objects that had been left behind. He stopped in front of a window. It framed a perfect view of the Malfoy Graveyard. He knew his father was dead, but it was still a bit unnerving to know that he was just outside as he was dismantling a house that had never been empty before. He might have sounded stupid admitting that he sill feared his father, even though he was dead, but he had been brought up in a household where not even death could stop someone.

Draco found himself in a rarely used hallway; the paintings on the walls looked at him maliciously and scathingly from behind a thick layer of dust. One of the paintings caught his eye, probably because of the sweetly smiling, strangely familiar woman in the panting.

"No way," Draco muttered and took a step closer.

Through the dust he could make out a man and a woman. The woman was the same redhead from Ginny's vision, and the man, who looked almost like an older version of himself, was her husband. The woman in the painting waved at him and Draco, a bit shakily waved back.

Ginny.

He wished everything had happened differently. Why had he, a Malfoy, have to go and get all caught up in her, a Weasley's, affairs? Why did he even care whether or not she was making herself sick over something that would never happen? Why did he even attempt to warn her that she was different from all of the others in her group? Why did he enjoy teasing her so much? Why was she the only person who could catch him off guard? Did he even want to hear the answer to these questions?

"I know why."

Draco spun around and saw his reflection in the mirror behind him.

"Why then?" he spoke to it.

"Well," started his reflection, "you care for her, possibly as a little more than a friend."

"Sure," muttered Draco, as he took the mirror off the wall.

"You love her!"

Draco glared at his reflection.

"No I don't."

"Ah, denial," spoke his reflection dreamily.

Malfoy let go of the mirror and watched it fall to the floor. Shards of glass flew everywhere when it hit the ground.

"Stupid mirror," he said, but its nagging voice remained in his head.

"You love her!"

***

Ginny was sitting on one of the empty trunks in the attic of the Black house. It was incredibly dark and the only light came from the opening in the floor that she had used to get up there, and through the slits in the tiny window at one end of the room. Unlit candles were scattered and melted on top of all sorts of objects, probably left behind by the last person who had been up there.

Ginny got up and carefully left the book she was holding on top of the trunk. She pulled a matchbook out of her pocket and began to light the candles, the Muggle way. It was a good deal brighter once she was finished, so she sat back down on the trunk and picked up Ginger's Journal. She touched its flawless cover gently. Then, very cautiously, opened the book and began to read it.

December 21, 1591

Of all the horrible luck. William and I were just sitting down for a cup of tea yesterday when we got a message that a whole herd of dragons were heading our way. Luckily, we got out of town just as they got to William's castle. We went back to see the damage the next day, only to find Gryffindor Castle barely recognizable through the rubble, and the treasury empty.

Thankfully, my loyal friend Hidrith is letting us stay at Malfoy Manor with him. He is also being so generous as to have William's castle rebuilt, and he is throwing in some gold as well I only wish William could get along with him.

December 23, 1591

Hidrith and I went out for a stroll through town. William was, of course, too busy to join us. He is always too wrapped up in overseeing construction or doing paperwork to spend time with us. One would think he does it on purpose!

During our walk it began to rain, so Hidrith and I ran into the nearest tavern, the Black Unicorn. We both talked a bit about family and such. I was supposed to be courting William, but neither of us could see more than a Brother/Sister relationship. Hidrith's story was that he was the only member of the Malfoy family to survive a timed killing draft; no one had known such a thing existed until now. So Hidrith had grown up by himself, left to bury all his siblings, including his younger brother. Poor Hidrith, I proceeded to comfort him as we kissed at our booth.

Ginny continued reading, but the entries were pretty uneventful, talking only about day-to-day things or about her and Hidrith. When it came time to move back into William's castle, Ginger stayed with Hidrith. Soon the two of them got married and had a little boy, whom they named Glory. Just as Ginny was ready to close the journal, something interesting happened.

January 1, 1601

We held a brilliant New Years party. Our son, Glory, acting like any other sixteen-year-old, was flirting with one of the raven-haired Feildswamm daughters. Doric, their father, gave me a small basilisk nick-knack he had found in the old Slytherin-Malfoy castle, which Hidrith was renting out to them.

I don't like them, but nevertheless I go out there with fresh towels, laundry, and groceries for them every week. Doric's wife had passed away some time ago, so it is just him and his three daughters. But it bothers me why he would go through so much trouble to deliver useless trinkets to my house.

February 20, 1601

I delivered the laundry and groceries to Doric today and the strangest thing happened. He took one of the chicken eggs I gave him and told me to follow him, because he wanted to show me something. He led me into his study and placed the egg into a little container on his desk. Then he picked up a toad, of all things, and placed it onto the egg as if it where a hen! He began to rant on like a lunatic about how simple it was, and yet so deadly. How simple what was? He must be completely mad.

March 30, 1601

It was horrible. I'll never go back there again. Neither shall Glory. I'll have Hidrith evict them. I want the whole bloody lot of them to burn in the fires of hell. Today I simply went to drop off laundry and groceries at Malfoy-Slytherin castle for Doric and the girls. When I got there Doric said he was just about finished gathering this week's dirty laundry, he was just getting one of the bed sheets as I came in. So I politely asked if I could help with anything. Doric nodded, so I followed him upstairs to the bedroom.

It was a grand room; inside his three daughters were doing their hair and make-up. I turned to look at Doric, and to my surprise he was taking off his shirt! When I asked him what in the name of Merlin was he doing, he pulled out his wand and did a spell that caused ropes to bind my legs and arms together. Then, Doric continued to take off his pants and undergarments, leaving him stark naked in a bedroom with me tightly bound up, and his three daughters watching, mildly interested. Then he came towards me, and my blood ran cold. He pushed me onto the bed and tied my arms and legs to the bedposts so I couldn't move or even attempt to get free. When Doric began to take off my clothes I told him to stop, but he just grinned like a madman.

Then he began to indulge on my body. Letting out all his lust, groaning and moaning as I screamed. I screamed for the girls to help me, to stop their father. All the bitches did though was watch, horribly interested, while their father used me as he pleased. It hurt like hell and it went on for hours without a break. I was in tears by the end and I had lost my voice from all the screaming I did. There was a horrible mess all over the beautiful bed. When it was over, Doric untied me, but ripped my clothes in a appalling fashion. I quickly apparated home. I never want to go back there again.

Then Ginny finally got to the last entry. It was in the same red, scratchy handwriting as the last entry in Narcissa's journal.

April 18, 1601

Ginger Malfoy - Killed by a Basilisk

Ginny closed the book. She had seen Ginger's last few moments before she died. Doric must have killed her, angry with her for evicting him and his family out of the. He was, of course, breeding a Basilisk.

The sound of rain beating down heavily on the roof was what brought Ginny back to the present. Once again, she got up off the trunk and stretched. Then she gently blew out each candle. She was almost certain that there was a charm placed on them so they wouldn't set anything on fire, but just to make sure she put them out anyway.

For the first time in several days, she felt pretty much at peace with everything that was going on. She was almost thankful that Harry had sat her down and let all of what he was feeling out into the open. She was different from all of them. She had been involved with the Dark Arts while they were only exposed to it. Up until now she had thought it was the same thing because there was such a thin line between the two. But there was a difference, a major one, one that caused people to look at you a bit skeptically. Malfoy was right.

An overwhelming emotion came over her when she admitted he was right. What the emotion was, she didn't know. Forgiveness? Perhaps Draco meant a little more to her than she had thought, after all, why did she miss him so much? All sorts of thoughts came into her head about him. Perhaps it was a friendship she craved with him, maybe that was why she wanted to be with him. It looked like through his rough exterior all this time he's only tried to be friends with her.

The roar of a car engine was heard from outside. Ginny rushed over to the tiny window and could just make out the black car Lupin owned. She smiled and ran, barefooted, out of the attic. Then Ginny quickly scampered down the hallway and down another set of stairs.

"Hi Professor Lupin!" she called as he entered the house and ran past him, almost knocking him over.

She ran outside in the pouring rain, mud squishing underneath her feet. Then, surprising the both of them, launched herself at Draco and kissed him.

It all felt so right to her for some reason. He was definitely no Harry, and she had believed that if she wasn't kissing Harry, it wouldn't be right. But here she was, kissing a Malfoy, in the pouring rain, and everything felt perfect, feeling Draco's arm around her waist, the rain pouring down both of their faces, her standing on the tips of her toes to get the most out of it.

***

When they broke apart Draco opened his eyes and looked down at Ginny through the sheets of rain. She had caught him off guard, again. That kiss, so spontaneous and unexpected, but he hated to admit, it felt so. It was full of innocence too, unlike the one he had shared with Crystilla-- he felt what was missing.

"What was that for?" The words came spilling out of his mouth before he knew what he was saying.

"Just a thank-you," she replied, "between two friends."

Draco sat there thinking, rain pouring down his face, a Malfoy and a Weasley, friends? Suddenly Bartlett's words came back to him.

"Damn, don't tell me you bought into all that Malfoys hate all Weasleys crap," Bartlett said harshly. "My dad brought me up hating everyone below his family, especially Weasleys, and if I listened to him I would have missed out on the best friend a guy could ever have."

"Now Weasley, won't Potter be furious that you're out here kissing me?" spoke Draco, playfully.

"I don't care what Harry thinks," Ginny calmly replied.

Draco blinked, a little confused. What had he missed since she shut him out of her life?

"You don't care what he's going to say when he finds out you were here kissing a Malfoy? But then again, who could blame you?"

"Well, you were right about him, he really didn't get me, and what are the chances of me and him hooking up?" she spoke delicately.

"Slim to none," he replied.

"That was a rhetorical question!" laughed Ginny.

Draco smiled; she had a way with making him do that.

As they both began walking towards the house, Ginny suddenly stopped.

"Draco, what were you doing in my room last night?" she questioned.

"I missed your underwear." He looked at her with a playful half-smile.

"Draco, you are such a- such a- underwear gnome!" she spat.

"Oh so I'm a 'gnome' now?" he laughed.

Ginny giggled and ran into the house.

"Oh don't think you can get away with calling Draco Malfoy a 'gnome' that easily!" he shouted, and ran after her.