The Rebirth

Chapter 8

The Offer

December 25, 1997

Ginny was yanked out of a sound sleep by Gwen's loud squeal. "Gin, presents!" Ginny pulled the covers over her head; it was slightly chilly in the room; getting up on cold mornings was one of the hardest things in the world. "Mmph," was the most coherent sound she could muster.

Gwen laughed. "You've got a big, lovely pile of gifts out here, Gin, and if you're not up in five minutes, I'm going to unwrap them all!"

Ginny's arm emerged from behind the bed curtains, groped around her night table until she found her watch, and then disappeared again. A moment later, Ginny made an aggravated noise. "Gwen, it's not even ten o'clock yet. Give me another hour."

"Absolutely not. You can sleep in every other day of the holidays, but not today. And by the way, you have three minutes to open those curtains and wish me a Merry Christmas."

Ginny groaned. "Go ahead and open the presents. See if I care."

"I'll eat your mum's Christmas cookies."

"Is that a threat?"

"It's a promise. Two minutes, Gin."

"Okay, hang on. I'm up." Ginny shut her eyes and reached inside herself; she checked to make sure the wall that closed off her Pendragon sight was firmly in place. After she had woken from her sensory-overload coma, Ginny had stayed up the entire night in the hospital wing, building a solid wall around the new power. It was a much more difficult enterprise than the wall in her link with Harry, which was really more of a permeable membrane that allowed their thoughts to pass freely back and forth. The wall around her sight was a true blockade; Ginny was ruthlessly determined to see the world just as she always had. The wall prevented any of the sight from leaking through unless Ginny specifically wanted to use it. Ginny still heard the music in the back of her mind; it was something she'd probably never be able to stifle completely. Still, every morning she checked the blockade for cracks; so far, she had been lucky.

"Thirty seconds, Gin!"

Making sure the diamond ring was hidden beneath her shirt, she yanked her curtains open and gave Gwen a sunny, fake smile. "Merry Christmas!" The grin slipped from her face as she yawned. "There. Have I fulfilled my obligation? Can I go back to sleep now?"

"Not yet," Gwen said. "After presents."

"I'm not a morning person."

"Everyone's a morning person on Christmas."

"Gwen—"

"Ginny, come on. I don't want to open presents by myself on Christmas morning. I've been laying here since six waiting for a decent time to wake you up."

"You're as bad as a little kid," Ginny teased.

Gwen grinned back. "I'm as good as a little kid. I never would've gotten so many gifts if I was bad."

She had to admit that Gwen did have a sizeable pile. "Do you want to go first?" Ginny offered. "You've been waiting patiently, sort of."

"For three and a half hours?" Gwen said. "You bet your wand I've been waiting patiently."

"Sort of."

Gwen laughed, and tore open a gift from her parents—a new dress made of a shocking red fabric.

"It's a great color for you," Ginny complimented.

Gwen held the dress up and looked in the mirror. "It's very festive, isn't it? I'll have to wear it today."

Ginny then tore open the package from her parents. As expected, it was a Weasley sweater, a turtleneck, hand-knit by her mother. Ginny pressed her face to the snowy white garment; it was extremely soft and felt heavenly. She couldn't wait to wear it. There was a tin of cookies as well, and Ginny and Gwen each had a few.

Although they started the Christmas festivities with the good intention of taking turns with opening their presents; it soon degenerated into a free-for-all. Wrapping paper flew as the girls tore into their gifts. Ginny opened her gift from Shannon; a silver ID bracelet with Virginia Weasley written in delicate script on one side. She smiled at her friend's thoughtfulness; name bracelets were the accessories of the moment among the girls at Hogwarts, but Ginny never would've spent the money on one for herself. From Ron she had a new pair of elbow pads for Quidditch; hers had belonged to George and were scuffed beyond repair. Gwen gave her a book of charms to construct complicated hairstyles, and from the packaging Ginny could tell that Ria's gift was also a book. She tore the wrapping off, read the title, and then dropped it like it was on fire.

"What is it?" Gwen asked.

Ginny sounded slightly choked. "The Once and Future King."

Quirking an eyebrow at Ginny's reaction, Gwen said, "What with all the mythology you read, she must have thought you'd love it. It's a great book; my dad has a copy."

"No doubt. I can't see Ria buying me a bad book, can you?" Ginny agreed, but she didn't pick the paperback up from the floor.

Gwen sat on her bed, surrounded by crumpled wrapping paper and opened boxes. "You still have one more," she said, pointing to a small, flat package.

Ginny quickly took the paper off and flipped it open. Nestled on a bed of black velvet were earrings made from small, clear stones that glowed from within. Ginny pulled one out and examined it closely. A red light shone inside of the studs, but the surface of the rock was cool. "Firestones," Gwen breathed. "Wow, Gin. They're wonderful."

"Firestones?" Ginny asked, still turning the earring around in her hand. "I've never heard of them."

"They're fished out of volcanoes by trained salamanders."

Ginny gently replaced the stone in its velvet bed. "What kind of charm is it that makes them glow?"

"No, Gin. It's not a charm," Gwen explained patiently. "That's real fire. It never burns out. Firestones are extremely rare." Her smile turned sly. "These wouldn't happen to be from your orchid friend, would they?"

Ginny gently touched the glowing stones; she could feel Harry's imprint on them. His essence clung to everything he touched, and left a sparkling impression behind. The earrings were beautiful. "Absolutely," she confirmed. "I'll have to send him a thank you note."

Gwen whooped with laughter and threw a pillow at Ginny. "A thank you note! That's nothing! For a present like this?"

As Ginny fended off another pillow attack, the earrings dropped to the bed. "Have you got a better idea?" she asked through her laughter.

"I'll have to let you know," Gwen said. She nodded towards Ginny's pile of gifts. "What say we put that hair book to good use?"

"What, now?"

"After we take showers, anyway. It's the best day of the year; I don't want to spend it all ratty. We've got two hours before the Christmas feast, so let's get dressed up. Sounds good?"

Ginny grinned. She had lost count of the number of times Gwen had made her over, and still her friend couldn't get enough of transforming people's appearances and making them beautiful. She was happy for Gwen, that she had found something that gave her so much pleasure. "Sounds like fun."

* * * * *

Shannon's wireless played boisterous Christmas music from the WWN as Gwen sat in front of the mirror and struggled to keep her face neutral. Ginny said, "You know, if you didn't trust me with your hair you shouldn't have made the suggestion in the first place."

Gwen braced herself. "I trust you. Just get it over with quickly."

Ginny waved her wand over Gwen's head. "It won't hurt a bit." She eyed the results. "Well, maybe just a little bit."

"Try it again, with a bit more of a flick to the wand."

Ginny reread the spell. "Sorry. Hair has never been my strong point." Gwen had already pulled Ginny's hair into a sophisticated updo; she had offered hair extensions but Ginny had turned her down. So instead, she twisted Ginny's hair into a topknot and spent ages styling it into just the right level of messy carelessness. Ginny would've preferred something sleeker, but Gwen swore that the wisps of hair that curled around her face and neck made the look. And now it was Ginny's turn with Gwen's hair. Although Gwen professed to have the utmost confidence in her abilities, Ginny could tell that Gwen was forcibly restraining herself from grabbing the book and doing it on her own.

"Nobody gets it on the first try," Ginny said defensively.

"You've had five," Gwen pointed out.

"Sixth time's the charm."

"How do you figure?"

Ginny thought for a moment. "Well, we're sixth years, aren't we?"

Gwen snorted. "That's some faultless logic you have going on, Gin."

Ginny crossed her eyes at her friend. While Gwen was distracted with laughter, Ginny waved her wand with just the right amount of flick, and Gwen's hair wound into a smooth French twist. Gwen surveyed Ginny's handiwork critically. "Not bad," she complimented. "Not bad at all, for someone who took six tries to get it right."

"And how many times did you have to make that Shrinking Solution in third year before Snape gave you a passing grade?"

The corner of Gwen's mouth curved up in a rueful smile. "Point taken, but that's the last time you'll mention Snape on Christmas. Got it?"

"Understood." Ginny gave Gwen a mock salute and put the book on the shelf.

Gwen slipped her dress over her head and examined her reflection in the mirror. Ginny reassured, "You look lovely. It's a great outfit."

Gwen tugged on the bottom of the dress. "It's a little too short, isn't it? Not the thing for Christmas day." She took her wand and lowered the hem until it fell to just past her knees. "Better?"

Ginny eyed the new length critically. "Actually, yes. I like it. It's a good thing you're tall, though. I'd never be able to pull it off."

She opened the wardrobe and rooted through until she found a pair of jeans. Gwen frowned. "You're not going to wear those, are you?"

"Sure I am. With my new sweater."

"Gin, I didn't spend half an hour on your hair so you could wear an old pair of jeans. It's Christmas! I'm going to look like an idiot in this dress if you're not wearing one too."

"My robes from the ball are all wrong though. I'd freeze," Ginny pointed out. "And I don't...ooh!" She rifled through the hangers in the wardrobe until she found the green velvet dress that had mysteriously appeared on her bed last month. She held it up and grinned. "What do you think?"

To Ginny's surprise, Gwen didn't go into raptures over the robes. Instead, her friend took the hanger and examined the outfit carefully. "Is this from Gladrags?" she asked, her brow creased in surprise.

"Yes," Ginny confirmed.

"How did you get it?"

Ginny shrugged and took the hangar back. "It was from a very nice, very anonymous person. I thought it was...my orchid friend, but it turns out I was wrong."

"I'll say. And it just, what, showed up? Without a note?"

"No, there was a note, but no name. Why? Do you know something I don't?"

"Nothing," Gwen said, still looking confused. "It's just that I was still in the store when someone bought this dress. I noticed because you had been looking at it. But I don't see why--"

"Who?" Ginny asked eagerly.

"That one Slytherin girl who's been hanging around you lately. You know, the one who went to the ball with Seamus?"

Ginny blinked in surprise, and looked down at the dress in her hands. "You're kidding. You mean Dana Silvermoon?" Gwen nodded, and Ginny let out an astounded breath. "You must have made a mistake then. Why would she spend three hundred Galleons on someone she had only met the day before?"

"Trust me," Gwen confirmed, fingering the deep green velvet. "It was this dress, and she bought it."

"That's...really weird." Ginny replaced the dress in the wardrobe and reached for her jeans again.

"Wait!" Gwen exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"I can't very well wear it, can I? I mean, why would someone I barely know spend so much on me?"

"Obviously she saw you admiring it and thought you would enjoy wearing it."

"But still, Gwen. I don't care how big her trust fund is. She can't just—"

"You had no problem wearing it when you didn't know who it was from," Gwen pointed out wryly. "Come on, Gin. She wouldn't have given it to you if she didn't want you to have it."

"I can't just accept this dress from someone I hardly—"

"It's a bit late to give it back," Gwen interrupted, taking the dress out again. "You can't return it after it's been hanging here for two months."

"So what should I do?"

"You should wear the dress, and when you see her at the noon feast, tell her 'Thank you for the lovely gift.'" Gwen thrust the hangar into Ginny's hands. "Plus, think how in season we'll be, with our red and green."

"I guess," Ginny said doubtfully; she still felt uncomfortable about wearing it, but Gwen was right. She couldn't very well give it back after two months.

"No guessing," Gwen chirped with a grin. She dug Ginny's glass slippers out of the back of the wardrobe and said, "Your new jewelry will be perfect. Just right for the best holiday of the year. Now get dressed, and we can go to lunch."

* * * * *

The moment Gwen spotted her Ravenclaw, she said to Ginny, "I'll see you later," and raced over to his side. Ginny scanned the people milling around. There couldn't have been more than twelve students there, and she didn't know any of them very well. She walked down the rest of the steps, careful to not step on the hem of her dress or drop Mike's gift, and spotted Dana Silvermoon coming up the stairs from the Slytherin dungeons. Ginny didn't even have to move. Dana came right to her.

"Ginny! Merry Christmas!" Dana was glad to see Ginny in the green dress; buying it had been an impulse, and Dana had very nearly kept the outfit for herself. But she was glad she hadn't. The dress suited Ginny infinitely better than it would have Dana.

"Merry Christmas." Ginny decided to jump right in. Gryffindors weren't known for their subtlety. "Dana, I know you sent me this dress."

Dana's eyes widened, then an impassive mask slipped over her features. It was a patented Slytherin maneuver to put on a poker face when hiding something. Unfortunately, Dana had not yet perfected her technique; there was always a split-second when she gave herself away. This was not lost on Ginny. "Pardon?" Dana asked innocently.

"This dress. Gwen saw you buy it on the last Hogsmeade weekend, and then it was left on my bed the next morning."

Dana knew she was caught, and shrugged. "Call it a combination birthday and Christmas present."

Ginny smoothed her hands self-consciously down the velvet skirt. "It's too much."

Dana snorted inelegantly. "It's Knuts compared to how much those earrings must have cost." Ginny put her hand to one of the firestones as Dana continued, "They probably set someone back a good six hundred Galleons, at least. Trained salamanders don't come cheap."

Ginny was momentarily stunned at the figure Dana named, but she recovered quickly. "That's different. The earrings are from somebody I know very well. It's not that I don't appreciate the thought; I was just wondering why—"

She was cut off as Dana's twin emerged from the Ravenclaw corridor and made straight for them. "Day!" Delia called, a smile of genuine affection on her face, "Merry Christmas!" The sisters hugged. It was obvious to Ginny that Delia really cared for Dana, no matter how unpleasant she might be to everyone else. The smile slid from the Ravenclaw's face, though, as she turned to Ginny. "Your family didn't want you this year, Weasley?"

Dana gave her sister a warning look. "She could say the same thing to us, and it would actually be true."

"Speak for yourself, Day. I stayed to work on our project for Binns. The holidays won't be a total waste of time this way. Although I suppose that Weasley actually stayed behind to keep her orphan friend company, since he doesn't have any real family of his own."

Ginny wanted very badly to point out that the Silvermoons were orphans as well. She would've done, had she been alone with Delia, but since Dana was standing there Ginny held her tongue. Instead, Ginny asked the Slytherin, "What project are you doing for History of Magic then?"

"Researching the Druids, and comparing the powers the Old Ones had to the ones modern wizards and witches are born with."

"Oh?" Ginny asked. "Have you found anything interesting?"

"Actually, we have," Dana said, warming up to the subject. "The Old Ones were especially interested in channeling the magic of nature. They discovered animagism, which—" Delia elbowed Dana sharply, and Dana smoothly continued without missing a beat. "And their powers back then were especially close to the Otherworld."

At the mention of the Otherworld, Ginny's interest was piqued. "Were they?"

Dana nodded enthusiastically. "It's really interesting, that. Back then, magical powers had roots in the Otherworld; as opposed to now when magic is something that comes from inside us. It's a trade off, I guess, because people's powers were lots stronger back then. But at the same time, even though our magic might be weaker now, at least it never runs out."

"Runs out?" She didn't like the sound of that.

"Well," Dana explained, "we found some records written by real Druids. They describe that, if they ever use a whole bunch of magic at once, afterwards they sort of had to...recharge."

"Recharge? Like a battery?" Ginny thought of her father's collection.

"A bit like that. They had to wait for their powers to come back. But now, even though our magic isn't as strong, at least we always have it."

"Do you know why?" Delia suddenly burst out, as though it was killing her to ask, but would kill her even more not to. "We've been through every book in the library and haven't found a reason for the change. Have you learned anything about it, or..." Delia trailed off and gave Ginny a look that mixed hope that the Gryffindor would know the answer with resentment that she even had to ask.

Ginny recognized the frustration on Delia's face. It was the same expression Hermione and Mike had when they ran up against a problem that wasn't answered in a book. Ginny decided to take pity on the Ravenclaw, but only because Dana was her partner in this assignment. Plus, it was Christmas. "It was because of King Arthur." Ginny saw Delia's mind immediately shift into gear; the girl was going over everything she had read, and figuring out where this new information fit. Ginny continued, "By welcoming Christianity to the island he caused the rift between this world and the Otherworld, and the Otherworldly connection between mortals and divine beings was severed."

"Wow," Dana said. "That's rough."

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "You don't know the half of it."

"Maybe you can answer another question for us then," Dana said. "It's come up in our research a few times. Well, more than a few, actually. You know how some people have special talents for Transfiguration or Charms or whatever? Well, have you ever heard of anyone with a special aptitude for the Old Ways?"

Luckily, Ginny's poker face was much better than Dana's. "No, I haven't. Even the smallest bit of druidic power would have to come from the Otherworld, and that's been closed off to mortals for nearly a thousand years." Ginny looked at Dana very hard; her gaze so piercing that the Slytherin had the oddest feeling the older girl could see right through to inside of her. "Why do you ask?" Ginny said, her tone of polite curiosity a sharp contrast to the intensity of her eyes.

"It's probably nothing," Delia said quickly, not liking at all the way this girl was looking at her sister.

"Probably," Dana agreed, "but you can never be too sure. See, these old books list all kinds of abilities that the Old Ones had, and some of them are things that Dee and I can do. We were wondering if you've ever heard of anything like that happening before."

"No I haven't," Ginny said nonchalantly. "There's some overlap, isn't there, between the powers of the Old Ones and modern magic? There are a million reasons why you two could have these...abilities, and none of them have anything to do with the Otherworld." Ginny hadn't been this unsettled since the day Moody died, although she kept her voice even and her face calm.

"That's what we figured," Delia said in a superior tone. "Come on, Day. I'm hungry."

"Hang on a minute," Dana told her sister. She turned to Ginny and asked, "Wasn't there something you were going to ask me?"

Ginny's gaze flicked briefly between the two sisters, and then she caught Gwen's eye across the room. Gwen gave her a significant look, and Ginny turned back to Dana with a smile. "No, I don't think there was. Thank you for the lovely gift."

"You're welcome," Dana said cheerfully. "Thanks for the tip about King Arthur."

She elbowed Delia, who rolled her eyes and said grudgingly, "Thank you for the information. Although we would've found it eventually on our own."

"No doubt after you'd gone through the entire library a second time," Ginny said sweetly.

The Ravenclaw opened her mouth to make a scathing comment, but Dana pulled her away. Ginny heard the Slytherin say to her sister, "You deserved that."

Ginny leaned against the banister and watched them go. She didn't trust her legs to hold her up after that little scene. Dana and Delia each had a spark of the silver flame burning within them. It was nothing compared to the raging inferno she carried inside, but still, it was there. Two sisters, identical yet different, like day and night, light and dark. It always came back to balance. She had seen it. And they knew her, even if they didn't realize it yet. It was probably just a matter of time. It could be days, or even years, but it would happen eventually.

The front door to the castle swung open, and Ron, Hermione, and Harry came in, laughing and covered in snow. They were all red-cheeked from the crisp winter air and full of energy from their snowball fight. Ron saw Ginny first and crossed the hall on his long legs, squeezing her in a bone-crushing hug. "Merry Christmas, Gin!"

She laughed and hugged him back. "Merry Christmas, Ron." He was freezing, and getting her all wet, but she didn't care. Christmas was a day for family. "Thanks for the Quidditch pads."

When he let her go she was immediately swept up by Hermione, who gave Ginny a quick hug and then pulled out her wand and dried the snow from the green velvet dress. "Thanks," Ginny said. "Merry Christmas."

"You too," Hermione answered with a grin.

Ginny turned to Harry, who had been waiting patiently for her to notice him. Thank you for the earrings. They're beautiful. She didn't think Harry would want Ron to know that he had bought her jewelry.

They reminded me of you.

She smiled, and Ron punched her arm. "Aren't you going say Merry Christmas? Or are you just going to stand there looking at each other?"

"Merry Christmas, Harry," she said, her eyes sparkling.

"It is, isn't it," he agreed.

"It looks like you lost the snowball fight," Ginny observed. He was coated head to toe in the white powder; it clung to his hair and in the folds of his cloak. She set Mike's gift on the stairs and started cleaning him off.

"It wasn't a fair fight," Harry explained. "Two against one, you know."

"Is that so?" she asked, amused. She would think about the Silvermoons later. There was nothing she could do about them right now, and she was determined to have at least a few hours of Christmas as Ginny Weasley before she had to go back to being the Pendragon.

"Ron!" Mike called cheerfully, emerging from the Ravenclaw hallway. "Happy Holidays! You too, Gin!" He walked up to the group and sized up the scene in a glance. Harry and Mike met each other's eyes over Ginny's head; she was still casting drying charms on Harry's robes. Harry raised his eyebrows gave Mike a pointed look. Mike's gaze narrowed slightly, and he said in a tight voice, "Hello, Potter."

"Afternoon, Fletcher." Harry caught Ginny's wrists gently in his hands. "That's good enough," he said, his smirk fading into a genuine smile as he looked down at her. "I wasn't beaten that brutally."

"I'll take your word for it," she said, throwing her brother and Hermione a knowing look.

"Allow him his pride, Gin," Hermione teased. "Let him think he held his own."

She laughed and looked over her shoulder at Mike. "I've got a present for you."

Mike's eyes drifted to her wrists, which Harry still hadn't released. "I've got one for you too, but you'll need your hands to open it." Harry immediately dropped his hold on her and glanced at Ron, who looked back with a decidedly odd expression.

Ginny presented her package to Mike. He tore the wrapping off and looked at her with pleasure. "Is this one of those self-filling quills?"

She nodded. "You'll never have to bother with ink bottles again."

"Thanks, Gin! It's great. Here's mine."

Ginny ripped the paper off of the long, flat box, and looked at the lid. "Monopoly?"

"It's a muggle game. Your dad would love it. We play all the time in the Ravenclaw common room. I can teach you after lunch, if you want."

"You gave me a game that you're already an expert at?"

He gave a cheeky grin and said, "Losing builds character. Haven't you heard?"

"I get a feeling I'm going to find out first hand later."

"It's a distinct possibility."

She grinned, and turned to Hermione. "Maybe you could give me some tips? Since it's a muggle game, I mean."

As soon as Ginny wasn't looking at him anymore, Mike turned his eyes back to Harry. Both of their gazes were hard and challenging; Ron wondered why he hadn't before noticed that they didn't like each other. And, based on their behavior in the past few minutes, he had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly why that was so.

The room began to empty. "I think lunch is ready," Harry said. "Come on, Gin. You and Hermione can plan Monopoly strategy to your hearts' content while we're eating." He put his hand on Ginny's lower back, cast one more severe glance at Mike, and turned her towards the Great Hall.

Mike glared balefully at Harry's back, and then started after them.

Ron turned to Hermione, utterly bewildered. "Did you see that?"

Hermione remembered her conversation with Harry during the Halloween ball. "See what?" He gave her a pointed look and she sighed. "Will you do him a favor, at least? Don't bring it up until tomorrow."

"Why should I do him any favors?"

"Because he's your best friend, she's your sister, and it's Christmas. There are three good reasons for you."

"I'm not sure about this."

Hermione slipped her hand in his as they walked into lunch. "Then just imagine how they feel."

* * * * *

Ginny looked down at the game board in despair. Mike controlled most of the properties, and she had just rolled a four. That meant that she was going to land on Mayfair, where he had a hotel. She didn't have nearly enough money to cover it. "Maybe if I mortgage something?"

"You don't have anything left to mortgage."

She cast her eyes desperately around the table. "There must be something left. I'm almost to Go. Can't you just hold off on the rent until I get the Go money?"

"It wouldn't be enough. Plus, the game doesn't work that way. If you can't pay now, and you can't, then I win. Game, set, match Fletcher."

She gave him a resigned smile. "Good game, then. Thanks for teaching me."

"Thanks for playing. You're a gracious loser."

She arched an eyebrow. "I bet you say that to all the girls."

The corner of Mike's mouth curved up in a half smile as he toyed with the dice. "I've been told I have that special romantic touch."

She began cleaning up the game. "Have you? When?"

"A few weeks ago, during a picnic in the dungeon."

Ginny snorted. "I never said that was romantic."

"Only because you didn't think of it." He folded the board and put it in the box. "A mistake I'm willing to overlook."

"Dungeons aren't romantic," Ginny said, putting the lid on the game, "and the person who told you they are was lying."

"They're not, really, are they," he agreed. "Unused classrooms are much better."

She glanced around at the desks that were stacked against the wall. "Better than what?"

"Well, dungeons. Don't you think? At least there are windows in here."

"Still. With all this dust? It's hardly the thing."

"Anyplace can be romantic, Gin," he said, standing and coming around to her side of the table. "It all depends on what you do once you're there."

"All I've done in this room is lose spectacularly at Monopoly. But I'll get better with practice, right?"

"Definitely." He stopped in front of her chair and looked down at her. She stood, not wanting to crane her neck to see his face. "But now you have to pay a forfeit." He had that look in his eyes again, the one he always got just before he kissed her.

Ginny was really going to have to talk to him one of these days. Most of the time he treated her as he always had, and then every so often she'd come across him in an empty room, or catch his eye in a certain way, and he'd seize an opportunity. Once she had asked him why, and he shrugged and said in that typically careless Mike tone, "Do I need a reason?" She didn't suppose he did; she didn't have one, after all. It was one of those things, and it was easy to just continue as they were. He made her forget that she was the Pendragon, and she made him forget about his father. They were good for each other in that way and Ginny figured that, for now, it was enough. Neither of them needed, or wanted, anything more.

Mike gently brushed his lips back and forth over hers. "You know," he whispered against her mouth, "if this is what I get for winning then I might not help you improve your game."

"What do I get when I win?" she whispered back.

His blue eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. "If you ever beat me, my forfeit will be lots better than a kiss in a dusty classroom."

"Is that a promise?" she asked, wondering just what he had in mind. She almost looked, but stopped herself just in time.

"Mmmm," he said, slipping his arm around her waist. "You can count on it."

"I can hardly wait."

He cupped the back of her neck in his hand. "You and me both."

Then Ginny lost track of time.

The creak of the door pierced the fog in her mind. Mike lifted his head and looked over his shoulder, positioning his shoulders to block Ginny from the view of whoever had entered the room. He said calmly, "Hello, Potter."

Ginny heard Harry's voice. "Sorry, Fletcher. I didn't mean to interrupt anything. I was just looking for—" He abruptly cut off. Around the edge of Mike's black robe, he saw the hem of a green velvet skirt. There was only one person at the lunch feast who had been wearing a dress in that color. Harry didn't speak; he didn't trust his voice. Instead, he stepped fully into the room and around the side of the couple standing in its center. The girl Mike held against him was Ginny. He held her gaze for one horrible moment that stretched into eternity. Then he spun on his heel and left without a word.

She shut her eyes and made a noise that was half way between a groan and a sigh. "Oh my God."

Mike took a step back and looked down at her. "Do you have something going on that I don't know about?"

"I don't know what you mean."

He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned down to her eye level. "Did Potter just catch me snogging his girlfriend?" She was silent, and he said, "You can tell me, you know. If you don't, I'm just going to draw my own conclusions."

"Of course I'm not his girlfriend," Ginny said, stepping out of his hold. "I never have been."

"Then why did he look at you like that?"

"I really don't want to talk about it, Mike."

"Humor me."

Ginny rubbed the back of her neck, took a deep breath, and said, "He says he's in love with me."

Mike's eyes widened. "Is he? Or does he just say he is?"

"What's the difference?"

"There's a big difference, Gin."

Ginny was quiet for a moment. Then, "He is."

Mike swore under his breath.

Ginny started for the door. "I should talk to him."

He caught her arm before she got three steps. "Trust me, you're the last person he wants to see right now. I'll go."

"He'll hex you into tomorrow."

Mike's eyes showed understanding, and even compassion, for her situation. "Your confidence is underwhelming. Don't worry, Gin, I'll straighten it out."

She looked down at his hand, and he quickly let go of her. "What are you going to say?"

He started for the door. "I'll make it up as I go along. See you later."

She stood alone in the classroom, unsure of what to do with herself and the riot of emotions that swirled inside of her. Guilt, embarrassment, and even anger held her in place. She didn't know what would happen now, and wasn't sure she wanted to find out. She couldn't help but worry about Mike. Harry wasn't going to be in a friendly frame of mind. And, as Ginny stood there, she realized that Mike hadn't asked whether she returned Harry's feelings. He hadn't wanted to know. Ignorance, after all, was bliss.

She snapped out of her reverie at an insistent tugging at the bottom of her skirt. A house elf stood in front of her and held out a folded piece of paper. "Miss will take this note?" the creature asked in a high pitched voice.

Ginny took the parchment and thanked the elf, who bowed again and scurried out of the room. She unfolded the sheet; it was from Dumbledore, asking her to meet in his office at seven o'clock.

* * * * *

Draco leaned against the railing above the ballroom and watched his parents' guests below. Narcissa had truly outdone herself tonight. The orchestra's soft, festive music floated around the room, and thousands of candles hovered in the air, making the marble floor and golden walls glitter. With the brightly colored robes of the dancers, it looked as though the ball was taking place in a jewel box. He knew Lucius would be pleased; a house full of happy guests meant that the evening's work could be carried out in secret, without any uncomfortable questions. Each and every Death Eater now had an ironclad alibi.

He flagged down a house elf. "Do you see the girl with blond hair, in the deep purple robes?" he asked, discretely pointing out Shannon Cannon.

"Yes sir," the elf confirmed.

"Bring her to the study," Draco instructed. "Tell her it's an emergency."

The elf scurried off to do his bidding, and Draco took a deep breath. He had been planning this evening for nearly a year, and now it all came down to him. He had set three very specific goals for this night, and his entire plan hinged on whether or not he could accomplish them.

* * * * *

The heavy doors swung open at a mere touch of her hand. Shannon stepped cautiously into the room, and the door slammed shut the moment she was clear. The loud noise made her jump; she was edgy, and had no idea what kind of emergency would require her presence in the Malfoys' study. At least it was relatively well lit; candles were placed strategically on various tables, and a fire crackled in the hearth. There was a massive desk at the other end; a man with white-blond hair sat behind it, his feet propped up on top. She thought at first that it was Lucius, but as she stepped closer she realized that it was Draco.

"Thank you for coming," he said, breaking the silence.

"We had a deal, remember?" she said. "I didn't have a choice."

"I didn't mean coming to the ball." He motioned for her to have a seat.

Shannon perched primly on the edge of the chair, folded her hands in her lap, and looked at him expectantly. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"Is there something I can do for you?"

"There are quite a few things you can do for me," he answered, swinging his feet to the floor and sitting up straight. "I'm glad you offered, because asking right out would've been awkward."

"I didn't mean—"

"I know what you meant," he said with a lazy smile. From somewhere, he produced a bottle of Firewhisky and two glasses.

"No thanks," she told him.

Draco poured the liquor and gave her an inscrutable look. "Indulge me," he said, sliding the tumbler across the desk.

Shannon took a sip and coughed as the whisky burned its way down her throat. His laughter was soft and mocking as he raised his own glass in salute, and then took a swallow. She watched him carefully. The candlelight did nothing to soften his features. Rather, it accentuated the sharp angles and planes of his face, giving him a dangerous, almost satanic air. But she was letting her imagination run away with her. He was just Malfoy, just one of her schoolmates.

She thought then about all the girls at Hogwarts who would die to be in her shoes right now, sharing a drink with Draco Malfoy in a candlelit room. She had never seen him in colors other than black, gray, and green, as those were the shades of his school and Quidditch uniforms. Tonight, he wore black trousers and a dress shirt of deep blue. The top button was undone, and his tie was loosened. She couldn't help but admire; he really was extremely handsome.

He saw with satisfaction that she appreciated his appearance, so he let her have a good, long look. Image was the key to control, after all. When she stopped staring and took another sip of her drink, he began his pitch. "I had Lucius and Narcissa include you on the guest list for a specific reason."

"I wondered," she said, resting her glass on the desk. "There are hardly any young people here. Why?"

"You know that Lucius is on the board of the Daily Prophet." She nodded, and he continued, "I've heard that you want to write for them after you're finished with school. Is that correct?"

Shannon had always wanted to be a writer, and had never made any secret about that fact so she nodded again.

He seemed satisfied with her answer. "Would you like to wait until after school, or would you like to start now?"

"Sorry?" she asked, not understanding his meaning at all.

He drained his tumbler with one long swallow and then leaned across the desk towards her. "The Prophet needs someone to write an editorial, an opinion column."

"I know what an editorial is."

"You are the person to write it," Draco told her. "Everything has been arranged. You can refuse, if you like, but if you take this assignment you'll be guaranteed more, and a permanent position on their staff once you're done with school."

Shannon took another sip from her drink. "What's the catch? Why would you do this for me?"

"No catch," he answered, his lips curving up into a closed-mouth smile. "Well, one small catch. The topic of your article has already been chosen for you."

"By whom?"

"The editorial board," he said with a dismissive wave of his hands. "They're the ones who handle that sort of thing. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Are you going to take it or not?"

"Will I be obligated to you if I do?" Shannon wanted to make sure she had explored all aspects of the deal before agreeing. She wasn't likely to ever get a chance like this again, and wanted to make sure she wasn't being taken advantage of.

"No obligation beyond what you freely offer," Draco told her, his voice smooth and low.

"What's the topic then?"

"The census."

That wasn't what she had been expecting to hear. "The Prophet wants me to write an editorial on the census?"

"The Prophet has agreed to run an editorial, written by you, about the census," he corrected. "It's an important topic. Societal demographics are a key political issue these days."

"Why would they ask me, instead of a real writer?"

"They know what they're doing, I suppose. The numbers you'll need are in a folder over there." He gestured to a long, mahogany table that took up an entire side of the room.

Shannon walked over and found the data. She flipped through the sheets, sizing up the graphs and charts. She had always been good with numbers; Arithmancy was her favorite class. As she read, Draco got up and walked around the desk, quietly moving across the room until he stood right behind her.

Shannon frowned. "This can't be right."

"What's wrong with it?"

She didn't turn. "According to this, less than ten percent of magical people can be considered completely pureblood."

"So?" he asked, smug satisfaction washing over him. She was playing right into his hands.

"So, this also says that, compared to purebloods, half bloods and mudbloods have a higher rate of squib birth, which is apparently on the rise, and, look," she pointed out a graph that Draco couldn't make heads or tails of, but he nodded knowledgeably. "If you extrapolate these numbers then the percentage of wizarding births is about to start a decline, while the squibs continue to increase."

Draco rested his hands on the table on either side of her, trapping her in place. "We're a dying breed, Shannon," he murmured in her ear.

Shannon ducked beneath one of his arms and returned to her chair, taking the folder with her. She paged through, concern at the data evident on her face. "There'd be panic if these numbers were made public."

He sat back down in Lucius's chair and fixed her in his intent gaze. He had her right where he wanted her, and now it was just a matter of closing the trap. "Not necessarily. People are a lot stronger than you think. They'd never take the extinction of our race lying down. Already there's a group that's been formed to combat the mudblood problem; a very secret, select organization of wizards and witches, who are loyal to the community and want only to keep it going, free of the taint of muggle blood, which dilutes the powers that are wizarding children's rights by birth."

Shannon gave him an earnest look. "What can I do to help?"

* * * * *

Mike opened the door to the east tower and saw that he had finally reached his goal. Harry sat on the floor watching the sunset. The sky was lit with crimson fire, streaked with the dark purple fingers of night. Harry glanced over at Mike, and then turned his attention back to the window. "How did you find me up here?"

Mike crossed the room. "Process of elimination. I looked every bloody where else."

"You can put your wand away. I'm not going to curse you."

Mike sized up the older boy. Harry didn't seem angry, just sad. An air of resignation hovered over the Gryffindor's features. Mike stuck his wand in his pocket and took a seat on the floor. An open tin of cookies sat between them. "From Mrs. Weasley?" Mike asked.

Harry nodded, but didn't speak. A muscle worked in his jaw, and as Mike watched, he wondered if Harry was going to stand by his promise not to throw any curses.

They sat next to each other in silence for a while, and just as Mike was starting to think that this was perhaps the most surreal experience of his life, Harry said, "How long?"

"How long what?"

"Don't be stupid. How long have you two been together?"

Mike blinked in surprise. "Together? We're not together."

"But what about—"

"We're not together," Mike restated firmly. "That was just a...thing. I don't know. It's fun. She's always up for a good time and she makes me smile. But she doesn't love me, which is what I know you're worried about. And I don't love her."

Harry finally looked at the Ravenclaw. "You don't?"

"Of course not. And that's why she was snogging me just now instead of you. I don't ask for more than she's willing to give."

"Then you're an idiot," Harry said with finality.

Mike chuckled at that. "Maybe, but it works for me." He took a cookie out of the tin. Harry tried to grab it back, but Mike took a big bite.

They sat without talking for a moment more, and then Mike got up to leave. "Anyway, I just wanted to let you know." There was no reaction from the Gryffindor.

Mike opened the door and was nearly bowled over by a little creature, who raced straight over to Harry. "Harry Potter, sir! Merry Christmas, sir!"

"Merry Christmas, Dobby," Harry said, forcing cheer into his voice for the elf's sake.

"Dobby has a present for you, sir." The elf presented Harry with a pair of socks, emblazoned with Gryffindor lions.

"They're great," Harry said, smiling at the elf. Since he was sitting on the floor, their eyes were level with each other. "Thanks." He realized that he didn't have anything to give in return; he had been too occupied with Ginny to remember a present for Dobby. Harry looked frantically around the room and his gaze rested on Mike, who leaned against the doorframe and watched the scene with interest. Mike held up his half-eaten cookie and gave Harry a significant look. Harry was momentarily confused, then he twigged. "These are for you." He handed Mrs. Weasley's tin to the elf, who sobbed in gratitude.

"Harry Potter is so generous! Dobby will share them with the other elves. Thank you, sir!"

"It's no problem, Dobby. Merry Christmas."

The elf dried his round eyes and handed Harry a folded note. "Dobby must go now, sir. But Dobby will never forget your kindness."

As the elf scooted around Mike, the Ravenclaw leaned down and asked, "Excuse me, is that a tea cozy on your head?"

Harry bristled, thinking Mike was making fun of Dobby, but the elf grinned broadly and said, "It is, sir. Yes, sir."

Mike beamed. "I thought so, but I wasn't sure. The ear holes are a wonderful touch." Harry watched in astonishment as Mike reached out and shook Dobby's small, wrinkled hand. The elf was overcome with emotion at being afforded such respect by a wizard, and took quite a few minutes to collect himself before he could leave.

Once he was gone, Mike turned back to Harry, his eyes brimming with good-natured mirth. For a moment, Harry saw how he must be when he was with Ginny. But the humor vanished as their situation came flooding back. He cleared his throat and said, "I'll just go now, shall I?" The Ravenclaw didn't wait for a response, but left the room and shut the door quietly behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Harry unfolded the note. It was from Dumbledore, asking him to meet at six thirty. Password: figgy pudding.

* * * * *

Harry sat in a chair across from the Headmaster and thought for a moment about the question he'd just been asked. "I'm not really sure when I realized that it was what I wanted to do," he mused. "Ever since fourth year, definitely. It's almost like a calling, you know? I'll help any way I can to win the fight against Voldemort."

Dumbledore nodded in satisfaction. "An admirable goal, Harry. You will no doubt be invaluable in the struggle. I called you up here today to let you know that you are registered to begin training in the fall, and I have made special arrangements so that you may remain near Ginny, who will also be in training."

"Ginny's going to be an auror too?" Harry couldn't help but feel pleased, despite what he had witnessed earlier that day. Being an auror meant a life of excitement and adventure. Mike Fletcher was a born pencil pusher, a bureaucrat at heart, who was destined for a boring career of sitting behind a desk. But, somehow, Harry knew that Mike's job would never be boring, because Mike himself was never boring. That train of thought wasn't making him feel better, so he promptly abandoned it and turned his attention back to Dumbledore.

Behind him, the door to the office swung open. Harry didn't turn around; he could tell who it was. Ginny hesitated, looking at the back of his head, and then sat in the chair beside him. He glanced sideways at her; her gaze was focused straight ahead. A faint blush stained her cheeks. "You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"I did," Dumbledore said, folding his hands on the desktop. "I wanted to discuss arrangements for the next school year. Harry will have to remain nearby to fulfill his duties as your protector. To this end, I have arranged for the two of you to begin auror training in the fall."

Ginny frowned in confusion. "You arranged...what?"

"Ginny, I have discussed the possibility of your becoming a part time student with Professors Figg and McGonagall. They both agree that you're ready to take the N.E.W.T.s in their classes a year early. Apparently you display an astonishing aptitude for Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts."

She spoke slowly, "You...discussed with my professors..."

"I didn't go into specifics. Your identity is still secure," he reassured. "As I've said, I have arranged for you to begin auror training in the fall, during the hours that you would normally have Transfiguration and DADA, and on weekends. Harry will arrange for lodgings in Hogsmeade and join your training."

Ginny still wasn't sure she was hearing correctly. "But what if I don't want to be an auror?"

"Auror training will teach you many necessary skills," Dumbledore explained. "Whether it is your career choice or not, the training will be vital to your success as the Pendragon."

"Did you tell the division that I would be going through the training but might not actually work for them once I'm done?"

"How many people have died thus far to keep you safe?" Dumbledore said by way of answer. "You have a responsibility to them to learn to protect yourself."

"People? What...." She trailed off and her mouth dropped open as the Headmaster's meaning dawned on her. In a slightly strangled voice, Ginny asked, "Harry, would you mind giving us a moment?"

"Gin, I'm not sure—"

"Harry," she said sharply, "nobody is going to attack me in the Headmaster's office. You can wait right outside the door."

"You may stay if you wish, Harry," Dumbledore said.

Looking at him, Harry was strongly reminded of the night of the Triwizard Tournament. Once again a sense of power, like burning heat, surrounded the Headmaster. But, Harry realized, at this moment Ginny was no different. The air about her fairly crackled with barely restrained magical energy. Harry knew when to take his leave. "That's okay, sir. I'll just be right outside."

The moment the door clicked shut, Ginny turned back to Dumbledore and said in a hard voice, "What if I don't want to be an auror? What if I want to be a heart surgeon? Or a geodetic engineer? Or a collage artist?"

He gave her a stern look over his half-moon glasses. "You don't want to be a collage artist."

"How would you know? You never bothered to ask."

"Ginny, after all the good people who have died to keep—"

"To keep me safe, I know. You said that part already." She leapt up from her chair and started to pace. "People like Harry's parents, right? Dying so the protector could live."

"Exactly."

Ginny nodded jerkily, her lips pressed into a thin line. "And that's why it was such a nice touch, then, to have him sitting right here when you dumped this on me!" Her tone was cold, her breathing uneven.

"I had him here because he'll undergo the training as well."

Ginny stopped and stared at him, looking slightly wild. "You had him here to guilt me into feeling obligated. Well I'm not going to do it."

"You're not the only one who has to make sacrifices," Dumbledore told her. "Harry obliviated his best friends to keep your identity safe."

"You obliviated his best friends. We both know he never would've thought of that if you hadn't pushed him into it." The room was practically glowing from their clash of wills. When two powerful mages fought, the results were nearly always pyrotechnic.

"It was his choice."

"Only because you didn't give him any others."

"It was a sound decision."

"It was the wrong decision," she countered through clenched teeth.

"You didn't contest it before."

"There's no point, is there? He feels bad enough. Every time he looks at them he thinks of it."

Dumbledore sighed. "The arrangements have been made, Ginny."

She heard the finality in his tone and shook her head. This couldn't be happening. "Tell me I don't have a choice," she said in a low, terrible voice.

"Ginny—"

"Tell me I don't have a choice. Say the words, Dumbledore. Say that you made this decision for me, and I have to abide by it."

In that moment, Dumbledore looked every day of his hundred and fifty years. He said firmly, "The arrangements have been made."

Ginny turned, yanked the door open, and raced blindly down the stairs, right past Harry, who had been sitting on the floor. He jumped up and went after her.

"Gin," he said, catching up to her as they reached the hallway. "Don't run away just yet. I have to talk to you."

She didn't stop. "It can wait."

Harry blocked her path. "It can't. I need to know what's going on between you and Mike. I need to hear it from you."

"Did you know Dumbledore was going to stick me in auror training?"

"Gin—"

"Did you?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he told me—"

She jerked away and started walking. Harry chased after her. "Gin, you owe me the truth."

She stopped in her tracks and looked up into his face. The emotions he saw there, pain, betrayal, and fear, were raw. "I owe you?" she asked incredulously. "I owe you shit. You promised...you danced with me at the ball and told me you would never...." Ginny was so angry that she could hardly form coherent sentences. "Get one thing straight, Harry James Potter. I don't answer to you. I never will answer to you. And if I want to snog Mike Fletcher, or every other boy in Hogwarts, then I'll do just that and there's not a thing you can do about it. I don't need to clear it with you first. And I don't need to make sure that your feelings won't be hurt. And I sure as hell don't need to explain myself." She raked her hands through her hair, and in that moment, Harry felt an emotion rolling through their link that he hardly would've countenanced had he not known it was genuine. It was grief, rising inside her like a noxious black smoke. She nearly choked with it. "I can't believe you knew about this," she said in a broken whisper. "The two of you sat up there conspiring...I just—" she cut off abruptly and walked away without another word.

Harry stood and looked at her retreating form, but didn't follow. He felt numb. She had meant to hurt him as badly as she was hurting, and she had more than succeeded. In that moment, Ginny's grief became his own—she was being forced into a life that wasn't her choice, she was frightened and alone, and she thought that he and Dumbledore, the only two people she could trust, were making life decisions without consulting her first. And so she had lashed out at him with the only weapon she had, at his weakest spot: his love for her. She had been as hurtful as possible, and mocked his need for the truth. No, he wouldn't go after her. He wasn't even sure he could.

Harry felt a hand rest on his shoulder. "She'll come around," Dumbledore said. "She just needs some time." Harry didn't answer, and Dumbledore sighed. "You can't talk to her yet. Give her a few hours to calm down, at least. Why don't you come upstairs and have a cup of tea while you wait?"

* * * * *

After Shannon left, Draco sat alone in the study and basked in the sweetness of victory. That was one hurdle crossed, and now he had two to go. If they were as easy as Cannon had been, he was in for a good night. She now had a guaranteed career in journalism, and Draco had someone who would be loyal to him and keep her eyes open. All in all, it had been a productive evening thus far.

As he sat with his feet on the desk, savoring another tumbler of whiskey, Lucius and Crabbe, Sr., entered the room. Lucius stiffened at seeing Draco's shoes on the antique finish, but swallowed his reprimand. "He wants to see you."

"He can wait." Draco had no intention of hurrying his drink.

"I saw a girl leave here. You may do what you please when it's just the family, but I'd expect you to be more circumspect when we have guests."

Draco laughed at his father's lack of imagination. "I was establishing a relationship with a potentially vital recruit. He'd be proud."

"The Cannon girl? What could you possibly have to say to a Gryffindor?"

"She may be a Gryffindor," Draco said, amused, "but she's also a pureblood. And I was only imparting a little bit of knowledge, which, as you know, is a dangerous thing."

"Still, I don't—"

Draco swung his feet to the floor and stood. "Are you really so short sighted, Lucius? She shares a dorm with Ginny Weasley, the only candidate who isn't being watched. Alicia Avery might be a Hufflepuff, but her father is loyal to us. Stella Screwtape is a Slytherin, so I can keep an eye on her. But Weasley was the wild card, our one liability. We didn't have anyone inside the Gryffindor dorm, or spies close enough to Dumbledore or her family. But now we do. Thank the gods I thought of it, because if left to your own devices you'd still be floundering around. I'm sure he'll agree with me."

Lucius glowered, but didn't respond. Draco smirked. There had been a time when speeches like that had earned him a sharp slap, or a nasty hex. But no more. Lucius hadn't dared lay a hand on him since the day Draco learned of his destiny. Draco passed his father on the way out the door. "You're slippery, Lucius, but you're not very bright. I'm going to fill him in on my progress."

When the younger Malfoy disappeared through the door, Crabbe turned to Lucius and said, "How can you allow insolence like that? If Vincent ever dared speak to me that way—"

"He is the one who was born to give our lord final victory," Lucius interrupted. "And if you ever accord him anything less than the utmost respect, I'll know the reason why."

* * * * *

Ginny walked without knowing where she was going, rounded a corner, and slammed right into Dana. "Steady on," the younger girl said. "Are you all right?"

Ginny tried to walk past, but Dana blocked her way. "I don't want to talk about it," Ginny said, an expression of thunderous warning on her face.

"Are you sure?" Dana pressed. "You look really upset."

"What do you care?" Ginny asked bitterly.

Dana frowned with concern. "I want to help, if there's anything I can do."

With a look so intent that the Slytherin was a bit nervous, Ginny asked, "Why?"

"Well," she answered, "we're friends, sort of, and—"

"Wrong answer," Ginny interrupted. The words tumbled out of her mouth; she was too angry to censor herself. "You care, you bought me this dress and told me all about your parents and now you're offering to help me because somewhere deep inside, where you hold that spark of silver flame, you recognize exactly who I am."

Now Dana was really uneasy. "And who might that be?"

Ginny spread her arms wide. "I'm the Pendragon. Isn't it obvious?"

There was a moment of silence. Then Dana laughed in her face.

"I was almost fooled!" she exclaimed through her giggles. "I mean, sure, I ran across references to the legend while Dee and I did our research. For a moment you really had me going! Have you ever thought about acting? That was brilliant, Gin."

"Forget it," Ginny sighed. "Just forget I said anything."

Dana's laughter abruptly died, and a glassy, unfocused expression slid over her eyes. It was the look of someone who had been obliviated. "Dana?" Ginny asked, waving her hand in front of the Slytherin's face. There was no answer. Ginny looked around for help, but the corridor was deserted. "Dammit!"

"Gin?" Dana said foggily. "I'm a bit tired all of a sudden. I think I should lie down for a while."

Ginny wasn't sure about letting the girl walk to the dungeons in her current dreamy state. She didn't want Dana to fall down the stairs. "Are you sure you can make it back to Slytherin without help?"

Dana seemed a bit more together when she answered, "Of course. Merry Christmas, then."

"Merry Christmas," Ginny replied, watching her retreat down the hall. Once she was gone, Ginny leaned against the wall and pressed her hand over her mouth, utterly horrified with herself. How could something like that have happened?

* * * * *

Draco walked down the stone stairs to the dungeon where the Death Eaters had congregated. The party was a front, allowing them to meet without raising any eyebrows. The Minister of Magic himself was present, dancing away right above their heads. There would never be any suggestion of impropriety at a ball attended by Cornelius Fudge. The circle parted when Draco entered, revealing the tall, thin figure standing in the center. Voldemort's red, snake-like eyes fixed on the young man and he gave a ghastly smile of welcome.

Draco didn't bow, didn't kiss the hem of the Dark Lord's robes, and didn't lower his eyes from Voldemort's face. It was a privilege afforded solely to him, as the hinge upon which the Dark Lord's entire plan turned. "You wanted to see me?"

"I understand you met with a friend of one of the candidates."

"I did, Master," Draco confirmed. "She will be useful. Now all three of them are watched."

"She was amenable, then, to our cause?"

He smiled at the Dark Lord. "I've never seen anyone so eager to be convinced."

Voldemort rested his hand on Draco's shoulder in a paternal gesture. "You are a most valued ally," he said, "and when you finish school you will be promoted."

Draco inclined his head. "You are gracious, my lord."

"I am grateful for such a loyal servant. Have you recruited any more young people to our cause?"

Telling the Dark Lord about his true recruitment efforts would get him Avada Kedavraed faster than he could blink. Draco said, "I'm always watching for students with potential." That part, at least, was true.

"Does your mark pain you?"

"Of course not," he answered, unconsciously rubbing his forearm through his sleeve. "I'm proud to wear it."

Voldemort nodded in satisfaction. Then he said, "There's something you're not telling me. Lord Voldemort always knows. What is it?"

"You are wise, master," Draco said. "There is something I'd like to say." This was task number two, and he thought that, of the three, it was by far the hardest one. But the first had been so easy; perhaps he was on a lucky streak. "If I may be so bold, my lord, you are not seeking power in the most efficient way."

Voldemort's grip on his shoulder tightened. "Do you question me, Draco?"

"Never," he said smoothly, "but I think some disloyal Death Eaters may have misinformed you about the state of the Wizarding World."

Now he had the Dark Lord's interest. "What do you suggest?"

"Less violence," Draco told him, cutting right to the heart of the matter. "Right now the people fear you, but they'll never give their loyalty to you and the loyalty of the people is where true power lies. Make them fear the mudbloods, and they'll look to you as their savior. That's when you'll have true control over their minds and hearts. And they'll give it to you freely. You could kill as many as you want, then, and they'd applaud you for it." Draco knew full well that this would never happen, but it didn't matter what he thought as long as Voldemort believed it. "Concentrate on gaining the loyalty of the people through their fear of contamination by muggles, and you won't need the Pendragon for years yet. She may even come to us."

"Your understanding of the masses is clear," Voldemort said thoughtfully. "I will consider what you have said."

Draco knew it was enough for now, so he thanked the Dark Lord and excused himself from the meeting. That had gone well. Now on to task number three.

* * * * *

Ginny felt completely empty. She sat on the floor of the Astronomy tower, looking at the stars, but her mind was a million miles away. She kept playing the scene with Dana over and over in her head. It had been an accident, she knew, but it didn't make her feel any better. She had let her fear get the better of her. It was exactly as Mórrígan had warned her. She also thought about her tantrum in the hall outside Dumbledore's office. Lashing out at Harry had been a childish defense mechanism and Ginny was thoroughly ashamed.

She knew the moment Harry entered the room, even though he made no sound. The tower filled with a red-orange glow when he lit a fire in the grate. Ginny asked, "How did you find me up here?"

"The link."

She didn't speak, didn't know what to say.

Harry cleared his throat and then said haltingly, "I only found out about the auror training five seconds before you walked in."

Ginny didn't answer. He looked at her back, very straight in the green velvet dress, and then turned to leave. "I believe you." Harry stopped; hardly sure he had heard the quiet words she had spoken.

"Why?" he asked. "Did you use your sight to see I'm telling the truth?"

"No. I just believe you."

Harry stood by the door a moment more, and then crossed the room. He sat on the rug behind her, and Ginny leaned against him, soaking up the reassuring warmth of his chest against her back. She closed her eyes and let Harry hold her. Just for a while, she told herself. They were silent; both wrapped in their own thoughts. Ginny knew he was still hurt, but he also respected her desire for quiet. That was Harry, always so damned noble. Always putting her first. She had given him one more thing to brood over today. Ginny honestly didn't want to add to his troubles, but she seemed destined to do just that.

She opened her eyes and looked through the windows at the forest beyond. The glow from the fire turned the glass into a vague, shadowy mirror, superimposing their transparent reflections over the snowy night outside. "I made a terrible mistake after I left you today."

Harry's arms tightened around her waist. "Whatever it is, we can fix it."

Ginny sighed. "I don't think we can."

He rested his chin on top of her head. "Then we'll find a way to work around it."

"Harry—"

"Please," he interrupted, his voice raw, "please can't we sit here together for just a minute without having to think about...just let me sit here with you. Let me have this, and we'll talk about the rest later."

Ginny's heart constricted with guilt. He was truly hurt, and she was responsible. "I'm scared," she whispered in an attempt to explain. "I'm just so damn scared. Of everything. And I keep telling myself that a true Gryffindor would, I don't know, charge right into the fray, wand drawn, but I'm not sure I even know who the enemy is anymore and that's the most terrifying thing of all. The Pendragon should be fearless and I can't even...maybe this means I'm a failure before I've even started, but I can't just let him...." She was rambling, and cut herself off before she did something really embarrassing, like cry.

Harry pressed a kiss to the top of her head. "It's not brave if you're not scared, Gin," he said, his breath warm against her ear.

She met his eyes in the reflection on the window. "What isn't?"

"Everything." He tilted his head so that his cheek rested against her hair. "Bravery, true bravery, comes from being afraid of something and doing it anyway."

He wasn't talking about becoming an auror. In that moment Ginny felt awful. He loved her, but she wasn't ready to accept such an awesome gift. It was too soon; she was terrified of losing more of herself than she already had. Instead of accepting his feelings, she had thrown them in his face and the magnitude of what she'd done, how deeply she'd cut him, was just sinking in. And now here he was, seeking solace from his pain in the person who was the source of it. "I'm so sorry," she said quietly. "So, so sorry. I misunderstood. I never would've told you—"

"You meant every word," he interrupted, a trembling edge to his voice that she hadn't heard before. "Don't you dare claim you didn't mean every word."

"I never should've said it the way I did. I took my fear out on you, and you deserve better than what I gave you today."

At her statement, something in Harry's chest untwisted. Her apology was completely sincere. It had been offered freely and simply, without rationalizations or excuses. There was nothing but friendship between her and Mike Fletcher. In that moment, he knew it as surely as he knew his own name. Harry pulled her close. "There's nothing I wouldn't forgive you for."

How long they sat on the tower floor, Ginny didn't know. She was just beginning to drift off, though, when a light outside caught her eye. She disentangled herself from Harry's arms and padded over to the window. "Gin?" Harry asked. "What are you doing?"

"I thought I saw something weird," she said, scanning the grounds.

"What is it?"

Ginny opened the window and leaned out, looking towards Hogsmeade. The cold air woke her instantly. Another flash of light went off. "I don't know. I think it's fireworks." Ginny watched the green stars rise into the sky. Perhaps these were the new Filibuster Festive Rockets she'd heard about. Her interest in the display abruptly vanished, however, as the light finally took its form. A leering skull floated above the snow. A thick snake wound out of its mouth like a gruesome tongue.

"Oh my God," she said in a low voice. "Oh my God, Harry, it's the Dark Mark."

Like a shot, Harry was on his feet and leaning out the window beside her. A second mark erupted into the sky. As the two students stood in dumbfounded horror, the far-away screams of the villagers floated to them on the breeze and The Three Broomsticks exploded in flames.

"Come on," Harry said, grabbing her hand. "We have to get Dumbledore."

The two students ran down the stairs and straight for the Headmaster's office.

* * * * *

Draco slipped into the small room off the fourth floor hall. Blaise Zambini waited for him inside. "How did it go?"

"He promised me a promotion."

Blaise gave a low whistle. "Another one?"

Draco smirked. "I'm going to be second in command before I'm twenty five." He stated it as fact, and Blaise knew it would happen.

"Why does he favor you so much? He's barely said three words to me since I signed up; most of my instructions come through your father."

"Isn't it obvious? He wants to keep me happy because he thinks I'm going to hand him the Pendragon on a silver platter."

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "He thinks?"

Draco put his arm around the other boy's shoulders and led him away from the door. One could never be too careful of eavesdroppers. "What kind of Slytherin would I be if I turned that kind of power over to someone else instead of keeping it for myself?"

"You mean—"

Draco nodded, his eyes locked with his dormmate's. "And I hope, my friend, that when the time comes, I can count on you for support."

Blaise could hardly believe his ears. Draco Malfoy was plotting a coup. "How many people have you talked to so far?"

"Some. There will be more. I bought us time tonight, told him to hold off on the killing and torture. They're wreaking havoc on Hogsmeade as we speak, and when it doesn't work he'll be even more convinced that I'm correct. If we're not running around doing his bidding every night, we'll have a chance to fully develop our powers and our faction will gain strength. By the time he catches on, it will be too late."

"What if the Pendragon won't agree to help?"

Draco ticked the candidates off on his fingers. "I talked to Avery several months ago, and she agreed to join our number. If she's the one, we won't have any trouble at all. Screwtape is an idiot. She won't be hard to convince."

"Isn't there a third?"

Now Draco's face was grim. "Ginny Weasley."

"She'll be impossible."

"Nothing is impossible, Blaise. If it's Weasley, perhaps she'll be open to persuasion. Everyone has a price. And if she can't be bought, she has six expendable brothers. I'm sure we could make her see things our way. For now, we can hope that it's one of the other two. The odds are in our favor, so I'm not worried."

"But won't you have to protect the Pendragon? How can you use her, whoever she is, to set yourself up in Voldemort's place if you have to keep her safe?" A typical Slytherin, Blaise was determined to test the plan for loopholes before signing on.

"The prophecy doesn't say anything about keeping her safe, only keeping her alive. That won't be a problem, because she's no good to us dead, is she?"

"You've thought this through carefully. A new order of dark wizards!"

Draco laughed. "There is no light and dark. There is only power, and those too weak to use it. The Dark Lord told me that on my initiation day, and I've never had better advice. I want his power, Blaise, and through the Pendragon, I will have it. We'll bide our time and, once we've gained enough strength within the existing Death Eater organization and she's under our control, we'll make our move."

"What then?" Blaise asked in a hushed tone.

The corner of Draco's mouth turned up in a half-smile. "Then I'll be running things, won't I? With the power of the Pendragon behind me, no one will dare challenge my claim. And when that day comes, Blaise, I will remember who my friends and enemies are. Which will you be?"

Blaise knew he would never advance very far in Voldemort's hierarchy. But here was Draco, offering him the chance to get in at the very beginning of a new organization, where he might go far indeed. He stuck out his hand, and Draco shook. The contractual magic flowed between them, and Draco smiled. "I knew I could count on you."

* * * * *

Dumbledore raced down the stairs and saw Harry and Ginny running toward him, hand in hand. Both students looked stricken. "Professor!" Harry exclaimed. He and Ginny talked over each other. "In Hogsmeade—"

"It's the Dark Mark!"

"There's fire—"

"People are screaming—"

"I know," Dumbledore said quickly. "I have to go. Harry, take Ginny upstairs and wait for me there."

"We could help," Harry said, drawing his wand.

"You both have other responsibilities," Dumbledore said firmly. "You can best serve the cause by going to my office and waiting for me there. I'll be back soon." With those words, the second most powerful mage of the time turned and raced down the hall as though he wasn't a day over twenty.

"He'll be all right," Ginny said, sensing Harry's worry. "Voldemort isn't out there. It's just Death Eaters."

Harry laughed humorlessly. "Just Death Eaters. I feel better then. How do you know?"

Ginny thought about that for a moment. "It's in the music," she said. "I'd hear if Voldemort was nearby, and he's not. Plus, your scar would be going crazy if he were as close as the village."

She had a point. "Let's go," Harry said grimly. "At least there's a window up there."

In the office, Harry and Ginny didn't speak. There was nothing to say. They were both glued to the window, watching the far-off skirmish. The village burned beneath the leering green skull and flashes of magic lit the sky like an aurora borealis. The tension was terrible. Just when Ginny thought she could bear it no longer, there was a loud thunderclap, and a light that turned the night as bright as day. Then, all went still.

"What happened?" Harry asked.

"I don't know."

"Can't you look?" He was desperately running through ways to smuggle her out of the castle, in case the Death Eaters had been victorious.

Ginny opened her sight. She had used it earlier that day on the Silvermoons, after all, and this was infinitely more important. "It's over," Ginny pronounced. "The professors drove them away. Dumbledore did a huge spell, but I've never seen it before so I can't tell you what it is." As she spoke, the fires began to extinguish one by one.

Harry sighed in relief and leaned his forehead against the cold glass. "Thank the gods," he whispered, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her close, reassuring himself that she was there and real, warm and safe. And alive. Above all, alive. Ginny recognized that he needed to hold her much more than she needed to be held, so she didn't pull away. That was how Dumbledore found them when he entered the office.

"Is everyone all right?" Harry asked, her voice muffled against Ginny's shoulder. He pulled a back a bit and continued, "Is anyone hurt?"

Dumbledore sank into an armchair and conjured a steaming cup of tea. He looked exhausted. "Professors Sprout and Vector were hexed quite badly. Madame Rosmerta is severely burned, and Professor Figg has a broken arm. They are all in the hospital wing, and Madame Pomfrey has assured me that they will recover."

"Why would Death Eaters attack so close to the school, and come without Voldemort?" Harry asked. "They must have known they'd never succeed."

"They weren't trying to take the school,' Dumbledore said, draining his cup. "They were trying to draw out the Pendragon."

"Maybe not," Harry protested. "How can you be sure?"

Dumbledore stood. "Because all three candidates are in the castle at this moment, it's Christmas so the villagers would be caught off guard, and it's exactly what I'd do if I were in his position."

Harry couldn't argue with that, so he asked, "Did you get any of them?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "We stunned a few, but the Death Eaters took them by portkey as they left."

"What now?"

"They'll try again, and soon. The teachers will take steps to fortify the castle and surrounding areas. But first, we must gather the students together and tell them what has happened. As for you two, go back to Gryffindor Tower and try to get some sleep. That's the best advice I can give."

Harry nodded, and he and Ginny left. The Headmaster watched them disappear down the revolving stairs, and realized that Ginny hadn't spoken a single word during the whole exchange. She had forgiven Harry for whatever his transgression may have been, but she was still angry as hell with Dumbledore.

* * * * *

Harry looked into the fire that burned low in the hearth of the Gryffindor common room. Ginny was curled up against him on the couch, dead to the world. It had been a stressful, emotional day for both of them, and she was thoroughly exhausted. Just being near him had been enough to lull her into sleep, but Harry, though tired, was still awake. He played with her hair, letting the red-gold tendrils shift and fall through his fingers as he thought about Voldemort, the Death Eaters, becoming an auror, and Ginny's role in the struggle. Voldemort was looking for her. Dumbledore had said so, and Harry believed him. That meant constant vigilance, and he knew she wasn't going to like it at all.

The portrait swung open, and Ron and Hermione crawled through the hole. "Where have you two been?" Hermione asked. "Did you hear—"

"We saw Dumbledore," Harry whispered, not wanting to wake Ginny. "He told us all about it. She was pretty shaken up, so I brought her back here. Where's Gwen?"

"I think she was going to sneak a night in the Ravenclaw dorms." Hermione looked like she wanted very much to take points off, but couldn't because technically school wasn't in session. "Are you all right? When you weren't there, we thought something had happened."

"I'm just fine," Harry said, although it wasn't true. There was nothing Ron or Hermione could do about his problems, though, so he wasn't going to trouble them with an account of the day.

Hermione understood. She turned and kissed Ron goodnight, sent a weary smile towards Harry, and then went up the stairs on the girls' side.

Ron stood in the center of the room, watching his best friend stroke his little sister's hair. Harry met his eyes unapologeticly. "Do you have anything to tell me?" Ron asked.

Harry shook his head. "Not that I can think of."

"What's all this then?" Ron's mouth was pressed into a thin line, and he didn't look happy at all. "I'm not stupid, Harry. I saw you and Mike this morning before lunch."

Harry sighed. "Can it wait until tomorrow?"

"No, it can't."

"Ron, please. It's been a long day, and the Dark Mark is still flying over Hogsmeade. I'll answer all your questions in the morning."

Harry could see that his friend wasn't happy at all with having to wait. But still, it would've been pointless to insist on talking now, since Harry wasn't about to say anything.

"Just quit playing with her hair, all right?" Harry's hand stilled, and Ron nodded. "That's better." When he reached the stairs to the boys' dorms, he turned and said, "Tomorrow then. You're not getting out of it."

"I wasn't even going to try," Harry answered, tired and pensive. Ron ascended the stairs without another word.

Ginny was still sound asleep an hour later. Harry was growing drowsy himself, so he shook her shoulder gently. "Gin, it's time to go to bed," he murmured in her ear. She made a sleepy noise and shifted a bit, but didn't wake up. Harry tried a few more times, but it was hopeless. She was out for the night. He carefully picked her up, and carried her up the girls' stairs.

Harry pulled the comforter back and laid Ginny on the mattress. She couldn't very well sleep the way she was, so he slid the glass slippers off her feet and set them neatly under the bed. Next to go were the firestones in her ears and the name bracelet around her wrist; he laid the jewelry on her night table so it wouldn't get lost. Then he took down her topknot, pin by pin. He didn't want any of them to poke her, should she roll over. Harry sat next to her and ran his fingers gently through her hair, making sure he hadn't missed a single one. Then he did it again just for the pleasure of touching her. She instinctively snuggled up against him, and it was just too much temptation. He was only human after all. Harry laid the hairpins on the table next to her jewelry, took off his glasses and set them down too. Then, he pulled off his shoes, closed the bed curtains, and curled up next to her, pulling the blanket over them. He was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.