Whimsically Ginny

Chapter Three: Houses Divided

Do you love
Do you need love
When your angels cry
Does your spirit die

~ Do You Love, Natalie Imbruglia

Blaise walked away from the room where he had left Draco, the petals of his own hysteria starting to awaken and unfurl.

He walked, past the rows and rows of silently moving portraits of a long line of pure-blooded Zabinis, all of whom had the same identical jet black hair and identical alabaster skin and identical metallic grey eyes, too dark to be silver, too light to be black. Too clouded to be clear.

Something in Blaise that had lain dormant and repressed all this while insolently scratched against the numbness of his heart; watching Draco had done it. All Blaise could think, as he watched Draco, was how familiar, how identical Draco was to himself, those years ago - how his own silver eyes had darkened and mirrored Blaise's.

Blaise ached. He hurt with a kind of intangibility that was beyond the grasp of his understanding; it was a phantom noose that Blaise had hung for himself, a ghost whip that bled him.

More than ever, Blaise could feel the dark reaches of his own memories, lurking shadows, prying their way into his wounds and regaining material forms again - more than ever, Blaise wanted nothing but to run. Wanted nothing more than release from this sense of desperate unease, this disease, a blight that crawled into his consciousness, lying on the borders, threatening to launch an invasion of himself at any time. Threatening to eradicate the carefully pressurized, cautiously cultivated control that Blaise had installed around himself.

I, a stranger and afraid;

In a world I never made.

Draco himself had quoted the line - it was because of Blaise that he had ever heard of it in the first place. Ever since then, Draco had used it on and off; it was a favourite phrase of his.

Somewhat amused, Blaise never told him that it was from a Muggle book.

It was no secret between Blaise and Draco that Blaise was Draco's constant. But it was also no true said and promised confirmation that either of them was each other's friend.

Blaise never told Draco about Xander; Draco never asked. Never knew. And, Blaise suspected, never cared.

It was always the same thing - when Draco lost sight of his confidence, Blaise would be there. It was unspoken, as it always ought to be; yet at the same time it was unaccounted for, not remembered, not thanked.

Blaise did not and could not ask for Draco's concern...he knew too well that Draco was Draco, undeniably self-serving, self-centred, self-loving, and yet also self-loathing. Draco saw but did not see; he knew only what he thought he knew he wanted, and Blaise was not deluded enough to believe that he saw him for anything other than a dignified pillow for himself to cry into, and trust that the tearstains would not show as evidence for others to find out.

And Blaise had always taken pleasure in a somewhat darkly masochistic manner, whenever Draco had come broken to him, like the remains of a misused shiny toy, to be mended, repainted, rejuvenated. He derived an odd sense of self-importance in watching Draco's well-crafted face collapse, and then having it lifted back together again into flawless perfection with a few calm words from Blaise's mouth; strangely tentative, boyish embraces that neither him nor Draco would have subjected themselves to had Draco been in a right frame of mind. It gave Blaise a kind of indescribable jolt, and inexplicable exhilaration, almost, to see those silver eyes filling with usually alien tears, lapsing into glass-blown vulnerability, then magically drying, retaining their condescending former selves.

But this time - Blaise felt...he wasn't sure any more. Draco's eyes had never darkened like that; the dark liquid mercury looked more foreign than any amount of tears in Draco's eyes ever could. And Blaise knew, now...it wasn't for Blaise to save Draco any more.

Because now Draco was as flawed, as blemished as Blaise ever was.

~

"What are you doing here?" said both Virginia Isabel Weasley and Charles Bassianus Weasley at the same time.

"Waiting," replied both Ginny and Charlie to each other.

"For who?" asked both Ginny and Charlie.

"Okay, you answer first since you're younger," laughed Charlie, reaching out to hug Ginny. His thickly callused hands felt familiarly rough against Ginny's light milky skin.

"I'm waiting for Bill...he's negotiating with some grouchy old goblin back - er - somewhere..." gestured Ginny vaguely, pointing behind her, sticking an arm awkwardly out of her brother's embrace. "I thought you said that you're coming back only after we go to Hogwarts."

"Well...some little minor adjustments," grinned Charlie evasively, then added, "It was supposed to be a surprise...but I guess that sort of flopped, around, well, three seconds ago when a tiny, angry red ant blindly walked into me..."

Ginny playfully punched Charlie, then asked, curious, "So...who're you waiting for? A friend?"

"Well, erm, sort of," mumbled Charlie, suddenly blushing uncharacteristically, "though I'm hoping that - "

"Charlie?" called a female voice. Ginny spun around, to come face to face to a petite, mischievous-looking young woman -

"Oh..." said Ginny, comprehension dawning as she turned back to a thoroughly red-faced Charlie, "So this is Audrey?"

~

"Young Master Blaise?" came the high-pitched squeak of Binky, the Zabini fortress's youngest house-elf. He was almost running alongside Blaise's confusion-induced destination-less long strides, tiny feet padding softly like a kitten's.

"What?" said Blaise shortly, a little harsher than he would have.

Binky gulped, then panted, eyes wide, "M- Miss Shu Han is here to see you, Young Master Blaise. She Apparated into your room a few seconds ago, and is already demanding your audience."

Blaise stopped abruptly, and Binky did as well, only inertia subsequently caused him to stumble over his feet. Blaise plucked him up offhandedly, ignoring the following diarrhoea of apologies and profound thanks coming from Binky. He turned away, walking back.

More information had come.

~

17th August, 1995

His breath coming short and hurried, belaboured, Draco lowered him and his broom slightly, letting it glide just a few feet above the thick undergrowth of the deceptively quiet Malfoy forest, too low for any aerial attack, too high for any ground attack.

Draco was always cautious, even when his skin was smarting violet and bleeding red and black, even when the Manor he had known all his life had just been taken over by overgrown Aurors and even when his mother had conveniently escaped the country (and for all he knew, which he now knew accounted for nothing, the continent).

But of course. It was a Malfoy thing to do; Father would have been most proud.

Father. A wet mist took over Draco's silver eyes, clouding his vision. Foreign.

His fine-boned hands shook slightly; his head was starting to pulsate with the weight of his tears, the loss, or should he say the losses...of what? He was not sure anymore.

Did it feel like this, when one started going insane? To be sane enough to think of protecting your physical body, but to lose whatever semblance of what you thought you knew? What you thought you believed in?

What did I think?

Or did I ever think?

Or was I just told, and I never thought, and now I've forgotten?

Draco retched suddenly, a horrid revulsion overtaking his previous tangle of emotions, whatever they were. Then abruptly all he wanted to do was laugh, and he did.

It was not a pleasant laugh, but Draco never remembered any pleasant laughter ever issuing from his lips; it was a bitter laugh. Or a laugh that was filled with bitterness. Was there a difference?

Draco didn't know.

But then that could have something to do with the fact that he obviously knew nothing.

Blackness was surrounding him; he knew not what it was. But of course he knew not what it was. Maybe it was night. Maybe it was the broad leaves of the deciduous trees around him, now in full mocking glory. Maybe it was just death.

A fitting end to his ignorance.

A half-smile played on Draco Malfoy's lips, and his last coherent thought was that, should he die, at least no one would find him looking like this.

~

The petite, slender girl stood silhouetted against the dark draping of the room, her brownish-black hair cut short and straight. As Blaise walked in, she turned around with the kind of arrogance and elegance that only a fellow Slytherin would know to cut.

"Shu Han. More news?" asked Blaise as the girl let herself be pushed into a high-backed black velvet chair.

"Quite a lot, in fact," the girl replied. Her amber eyes glinted with a private amusement that only she knew. "Should interest you."

Yong Shu Han was one of those Slytherins whom not many people knew of, but who knew everything about everyone else. With her deceivingly quiet demeanour and delicate wire-framed glasses, she was the kind of girl who somehow always blended in with the rest of the crowd, but at the same time had the kind of power which assured she was far from being persona non gratis within the houses that easily wielded the most power: Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

She was the Slytherins' best-kept secret, and Blaise's second oldest acquaintance.

Her parents also held high ministry positions, and with her natural talent at gathering information, she was Blaise's eyes and ears within the Ministry.

Shu Han never did anything she did for Blaise for any specific benefit; Blaise never provided her any. Blaise secretly suspected that Shu Han enjoyed doing her skulking around just because she was shrewd and daring enough to.

Coincidentally enough, she was also the only Slytherin he knew who had had the guts and the abilities to self-teach herself - successfully -- how to Apparate.

"First things first. How's our dear Draco?" Shu Han leaned back nonchalantly into the large chair, letting her legs dangle carelessly a few centimetres above the highly polished black marble floor. "Not very well, I would presume?"

"Sleeping two doors down."

"Magical over-exertion?" deducted Shu Han. A smile played on her lips.

"Yes."

"How many Ming dynasty vases this time?"

"Around five or six, I think. Destroyed a good couple of Monet paintings as well..."

"I thought he detested Picasso?"

"Well, he destroyed the last one last week."

"Oh. Danielle will scream, I presume?"

"Very likely. Well, the least consolation's that she wouldn't be coming back 'til after next Christmas, when we're all safe at Hogwarts."

Shu Han smiled this time. "Ever wondered, Blaise, why Draco never got a letter for his practicing magic? Or me, for my Apparating?"

"No," Blaise sat up straighter in his chair this time, wondering why that slip had never caught his attention. "Why?"

"Never told you?" Shu Han raised a perfectly straight eyebrow. Blaise shook his head. "Well, the Ministry, as you know, keeps those annoying little tabs on all of us."

"Yes..."

"Except that there's a little loophole round the tabs. See, each individual's tracking system is modified every year, according to the individual's presumed abilities. Like the way a first year would, at most, be able to perform a Wingardium Leviosa by the time he reaches June of that year. Of course, there are some tetchy little adjustments per individual. For one, I sincerely doubt Crabbe, Goyle or Longbottom would very likely even be able to do a Summoning Charm...whereas people like you, me, Draco, Potter and the Mudblood Granger would probably be able to do much more than that."

Blaise nodded slightly, allowing her to continue.

"So. There would be a certain trigger once some kid's supposed magical abilities are met when he or she's out of school. Then automatically, an Owl is sent as an official warning to the kid. But the limits put around each individual person, of course, can be easily fooled," Shu Han was almost grinning now, "Like whilst no sane person would doubt Draco's connection to the Dark Arts, they wouldn't know exactly the Dark spells that he would know of. None of the curses used by Draco the past week have been any that a person of our age would practice, were they?"

Blaise realised, belatedly, that she was right. As she always was.

"And nobody else but you and Draco would know that I can Apparate..."

"Got around the system?"

"Yes."

"Clever."

Shu Han smirked in a way that reminded Blaise fully of Draco. "Always am."

"So what news do you have?"

"Just found out how many of our darling fellow Slytherins have disappeared."

"As in?"

"As in disappeared. Vanished." The smirk from Shu Han's face fell away, and she looked serious again. "Turns out Parkinson disappeared with the rest of her pug-nosed family two days ago."

"The Parkinsons' estates in Chelsea and Milan?" questioned Blaise.

"Empty. And no one knows where the whole bunch of bad rubbish has run off to. Last I heard, someone reported a sighting in Laos. There was another report a day earlier that had claimed someone else had seen them in Chiang Mai. Ministry's been sending Aurors everywhere after them; the whole place is in a state of chaos - correspondence between other countries' Ministries to be re-established and whatnot...Myanmar's not very keen on helping out, I hear; contrastingly, Singapore's up to their necks with strengthening security...heard someone made the mistake of tipping off the Muggle Aurors - the CID or something like that - by saying that terrorists were on the loose, so everyone is absolutely paranoid there..."

"But why would the Parkinsons need to run for?"

"Because Fudge's parliament has just passed another Bill." Shu Han's voice had taken on a sharp edge. "All Death-Eaters and purported Death-Eaters are to go under the strongest Veritaserum there is. There's even been a list drawn up. Includes practically all past and existing Slytherin house members, plus quite a few Ravenclaw ones, too."

The roof of Blaise's mouth went dry. "What about -"

"Us?" the tone of Shu Han's voice was close to wintry.

"We're on the list too, of course."

~

Theodore Nott lay in his dark green bed, silk sheets sinfully soft against his typically Slytherin white skin.

It was numbingly quiet, save for Claire Moon's gentle intakes and outtakes of breath, next to Theodore, her ash-blonde hair appearing a burnished gold beside Theodore's dark brown. It was Claire who spoke first.

"So will you?"

"I will only if you would...Father never said I had to," Theodore replied, turning over slowly on his stomach to face his fiancée, the girl his parents had decided he would marry when he was only three years old.

It had been and was a good choice; there was no denying that.

"You do know who we will have to cross, don't you?"

"Well aware."

"But they would never love us anyway, would they?"

"True."

"So if we become His..."

"It is infinitely dangerous."

"But the Dark Lord rewards generously." Claire's clear forest green eyes bored into Theodore's. "And think of the power we can wield in Slytherin, in Hogwarts, more so than even Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, for all their riches, or even Yong Shu Han, for all her mind games..."

"The three will eventually come under the fold, wouldn't they?"

"Malfoy - perhaps. Zabini and Yong, no."

"Why not?"

"Zabini is an emotional wasteland. Yong would be useful, but she is discreet enough not to catch the eye of the Dark Lord; besides, she loves her life too much."

"And by joining we would...?"

"Wrench the power from them. Everyone listens to Malfoy because of his money. Everyone is intimidated by Zabini, just because he doesn't talk. Nobody ever does touch Yong, because of her tongue. But they never do have any real power, do they?"

Theodore leant down, letting his lips brush lightly over Claire's. "True."

"So we join the Death Eaters. And then they will be sorry that they never looked to us."

~

There was a moment's pause.

"Well, then -"

"Except we're on the secondary list. Along with Draco, though I'm not quite sure why he's on the secondary list. Anyway, being on the secondary list means that, should we not be mentioned or incriminated in any way when the Ministry's goons are interviewing the unfortunate people on the primary list, we won't be called on for our own nice little interviews."

"And the Parkinsons were on the primary list?"

"Of course. Along with the Montagues, the Flints, the Greengrasses, the Notts, the Moons, the Puceys, the Crabbes, the Goyles... the only ones off the primary list are your family, my family, Draco - Narcissa's already a full-fledged fugitive, and Lucius's already in Azkaban, so the name 'Malfoy' didn't appear, the Pritchards and the Baddocks. So currently the few of us can rest easy, seeing that we don't have any Death-Eater dealings -- not directly, anyway."

"Oh. You said about other disappearances amongst the Slytherins?"

"Well, the others aren't so much of disappearances, really...Crabbe and Goyle left school - about time, anyway; so did Daphne, Deil and Doyd Greengrass and Adrian and Adela Pucey. From Ravenclaw, I heard Cho Chang's younger brother is transferring to some school in Hangzhou; apparently the Changs were not too pleased when their son was implicated..."

"Why would Leslie Chang be implicated? He's only twelve."

"Well, apparently someone saw him talking to one of the younger Averys over July. Stupid, really. Anyway, besides the Changs, I think I heard something about Mandy Brocklehurst and Lisa Turpin leaving the country as well - parents had one too many hastily covered trails...and Su Li told me that the Quirkes have been pretty jittery lately, too."

"Were selling on the black market, were they not?"

"Yes...dealt with the illegal smuggling of exotic pets: hippogriffs and Alaskan Frisk-furred Kneazles...suspicious ties all over the place..."

"So then...any news of Narcissa?"

"Well...that's where we come to the interesting part," Shu Han sighed. "Sirius Black's house elf was hauled into questioning today, in front of the full court of the Wizengamot."

"Sirius Black's house elf?"

"Yes," replied Shu Han. "Ever seen a house elf take Veritaserum?"

It was now Blaise's turn to raise a slim eyebrow.

"Far from pretty, I assure you." Shu Han said delicately, "I'm quite sure I excavated my supper from yesterday while they were at it. Never quite knew caviar could quite retain its shape like that."

Blaise decided it was better not to comment about that. "Well, what did the house elf say?"

"Well, they did manage to get him to confess his undying love for Bellatrix Lestrange," Shu Han rolled her eyes expressively, "other than that, though..."

"Well?"

"Well, that was about as much as they squeezed out of him before he, erm, ruptured, of sorts," Shu Han replied.

"Ruptured?"

"Blew up, essentially...they had to wheel him and the bits of his body that had fallen out by the end of it...seems the Veritaserum can only be used on humans, after all. Amelia Bones looked fit to rupture herself; she was so angry with Fudge...but he should be glad Dumbledore wasn't there, I'll say."

"Oh..." said Blaise, then he turned back, eyes narrowed shrewdly, to Shu Han suddenly as a thought came to his mind. "How did you manage to weasel your way into the Wizengamot, anyway?"

Shu Han smirked again. "Well, if there was one thing those two insane Weasleys were useful for..." She reached out a porcelain hand.

And in Shu Han's well-manicured hands, were a pair of Weasleys' Extra-Sensitive Extendable Ears, as well as Wall-Penetrating Eyeglasses.

~

Breathe.

Sybill Trelawney's chest tightened painfully; she was lost - the voices were swimming, swimming...

"Sybill? Sybill!"

It was coming...she knew...her blood was curdling in her...

"Sybill, are you alright? Sybill!"

"Minerva, sit down! I think she might be Seeing -- "

Black...white...the rainbow of the colours of the spectrum...

Capricorn...Uranus...the lost Pluto...

"The one fresh of age with half a soul, twice protected... will bring the powers of the marked one, the one of memory past, and the one between the Dark and the Light..."

"Good heavens..."

"She will bind them all...protected by one, enthralled by one, loved by one..."

A thin silver thread...

"She will bind them all...and she will destroy one, or destroy all..."

Breathe.

Virginia...

~