Why Do I Love You?

The first day of classes dawned sunny and breezy, and Ginny awakened in good spirits. Amelie and her closest friend Rochelle, who, had also returned to Hogwarts, were sitting on Amelie's bed, speaking in hushed voices. The sound ceased as soon as Ginny stepped out from under her quilts onto the thickly carpeted floor.

"Morning, Ginny," Rochelle greeted brightly as Ginny rose and stumbled to the dresser to make herself a cup of tea. Ever concerned, she was, but she never really understood what it was like for Ginny to live through what she had. It wasn't like Harry was just another breakup.

"Mmm," Ginny grunted as the bewitched teapot began to whistle. She added a pinch of sugar (not enough to spoil the flavor) as she gazed out at the golden grounds. Taking little sips of her steaming brew, Ginny strolled over to the window and peered out at the sun-bathed Quidditch pitch, thinking, once again, of Harry. She wondered if there was to be a Quidditch team that year. Would be hard to play, or if it would be a nice break from school life, a distraction from her worry? Fewer than half of the players on the Gryffindor team had returned.

Ginny's mind wandered to the other houses. She wondered if they were pondering the Quidditch season as well.

*~*

Draco was reclined on his bed, thinking about something that commonly occupied his thoughts: his new title of Death Eater. He was curious to know if he would be summoned to serve his Master and how it would feel if he was. He had passed his Apparition test, so he could simply find a way to leave the grounds. The question again arose as to whether or not he would go when called. The Dark Lord, Draco guessed, saw him as a little boy, an object to be manipulated, vulnerable and afraid but with potential to be heartless.

Taking a deep breath, Draco threw back the blankets and ambled to the showers, emerging a few minutes later to head up to eat. As he left the Common Room, several of his housemates eyed him suspiciously. Especially the previous year, Draco was seldom found unaccompanied. Now he simply didn't care.

As Draco wound his way out of the dungeons, he felt his temperament evolve from resigned to annoyed and bitter. The other students had no right whatsoever to judge him! He had accomplished more than the lot of them put together the previous year. Draco had worked night and day to carry out his plan, desperately trying to satisfy expectations. None of the rest of them knew how impossible it was to please the ever-implacable Dark Lord.

Ruthless and heartless were kind ways to describe him. None of the other students could really understand that. He was just the mysterious power who gave orders to their parents. If the Dark Lord had told any one of them to choose between following directions and being killed, they, too would be afraid.

Draco had triumphed over the fear he'd felt all year, and he'd done his best to carry out his mission. But had the old man known what he was saying at the end? Was Draco really never a killer? He hadn't killed Dumbledore, but he hadn't had--enough time--to do that. Was that the truth, or was Draco really not like them? In that case, it would be impossible to remain a Death Eater. They were craven, but they were merciless.

Dumbledore had been foolish about many things, Draco's plot and Snape's loyalty in particular, but he had also been wise, something Draco never would have admitted before that fateful day at the Astronomy Tower.

*~*

The first breakfast in the Great Hall was a much more melancholy affair than usual for Ginny. It was very quiet, and the few owls that arrived carrying news and letters from worried parents brought only short and cryptic messages lest they be intercepted.

Ginny wasn't the type to be perpetually sad, but she couldn't seem to pull herself out of her blue mood. So she sat staring down into her oatmeal, waiting for the time to go to class. She was surprised, therefore, when a large, fluffy white owl landed in front of her on the table, sloshing her untouched goblet of pumpkin juice.

Ginny simply gaped at the owl, wide-eyed and disbelieving.

"Hedwig?" she asked incredulously, a wild hope seizing her heart. The owl hopped closer and impatiently extended her leg. Ginny reached out and untied the letter, fingers trembling. She could vaguely hear whispers from along the table.

"Isn't that Harry's owl? Where is he? What's he doing? Ginny, what does it say? Ginny?"

But Ginny didn't hear a word. She was instead staring numbly at the folded piece of weathered parchment. Raindrops had spattered it as it had traveled to her. She decided almost immediately that she wanted to savor it, treasure it forever. Clutching it to her, she slowly climbed out of her seat and left the Great Hall.

Upon reaching her dormitory, Ginny gingerly sat in the windowsill, still clutching the unopened letter as if it would tell her the meaning of life. Her hands were cold, and it was hard to force them to break the seal and unfold the paper. As soon as she did, she wished she hadn't. She could see immediately there was neither detail nor promise contained in the pages. Sighing, she settled in to read.

Ginny,

The three of us are doing quite well on our mission. We've just left the place we visited right after school was released, and we're now headed back to headquarters for a bit. We may not be able to write again, so I thought I'd see how you were doing while I still can. I wouldn't recommend writing back, though, as we don't want to draw attention to our location. Hope you're well.

Ginny eagerly turned the parchment over, longing for anything more. But that was all, no "I love you" or even a "Don't worry." Just that empty, false cheerfulness and I-don't-want-to-give-anything-away attitude Ginny was so used to receiving from Harry, Ron and Hermione. It was as though fifth year had never happened.

Shaking her head as she fought back angry tears, she stuffed the letter in her bureau and left for her first class, NEWT Defense Against the Dark Arts.

*~*

Draco's first class of the year was Defense Against the Dark Arts, a class he'd taken the previous year as well. However, nothing could have prepared him for the surprise that met him as he strode into the old classroom. The entire NEWT course had been combined. All four houses, both sixth and seventh year--everyone was there.

Draco raised his eyebrows at the other occupants as he settled into a seat on the far left of the back of the classroom. He observed as the room filled with a multitude of sixth years he didn't know and several seventh years he did know. They threw him a variety of nasty looks: accusatory, what-could-you-possibly-be-thinking-showing-your-face-here, or just simply shocked. Apparently the worst of the criticism wasn't yet over. Draco slumped back in his chair, feigning aloof boredom, and waited for class to begin.

When the time came that class was supposed to start, Draco glanced around to see who was missing and who the new professor was. He heard the door burst open behind him and the sound of soft panting, as though the new arrival had been running. He turned around to identify the intruder and beheld none other than Ginny Weasley.

Her eyes were on the front of the classroom. She, too, was watching for their teacher. She took the first seat she could find in the back of the room. After settling herself, she glanced around her and spotted Draco. He watched her impassively, waiting to see her reaction to finding him next to her.

"You again," she stated simply.

"Me again," he agreed.

"Seen the new teacher yet?" she asked, as he simultaneously said,

"Why were you late?" They both gave awkward little laughs. Then Ginny answered first.

"I ran up to my dorm for a bit," she explained curtly.

"Right," he responded with a little condescending half-smile. "Doing a bit of reading?"

Ginny reddened. She supposed Hedwig was more conspicuous than she'd hoped.

Draco shrugged nonchalantly, trying to ease Ginny's alarm. Though he loved to prove he was better than everyone, he couldn't stand uncomfortable people.

"It doesn't matter. What's dear Potter up to now?" he inquired with a bit more malice than he had intended.

"If you actually think I'm telling you that, you have another thing coming," Ginny bristled, focusing her gaze again on the front of the class.

"Or maybe you don't know any more than I do," Draco suggested bluntly, speaking softly.

Ginny gave an exasperated sigh.

"Or maybe I just don't want to tell you!" she snapped hotly. You should talk. Merlin, you're supposed to be nice this year, remember? I wouldn't bother to go around arguing with people if I were you."

Draco rolled his eyes. It was hopeless; Gryffindors were impossible. He opened his mouth to say,

"Why? Will your heroic Harry come rescue you from me? Because I certainly don't see him anywhere," but before he could utter a sound, a stately-looking younger man, with wise eyes and a mischievous, twinkling smile, who had apparently appeared as they had been having their row, admonished them.

"Mr Malfoy, Miss Weasley," he chided, looking, if possible, more surprised that the two of them were talking than they themselves did.

"Please allow me to offer my apologies for my tardiness," he continued, addressing the class as a whole. "I was just finishing up some business with the Headmistress," he explained.

Draco, however, had stopped listening. Both he and Ginny were leaning forward in their seats, each suddenly oblivious to the other, staring hard at their new professor. There was something hauntingly familiar about those dancing eyes. They somehow appeared to harbor a deeper sadness, as tragic a sight as a lost dove sitting by itself in its olive tree.