The Enemy of Souls

Chapter Four

***

January, 2005

"I must say, Draco, it's quite a surprise to find you here."

Draco sighed. "It's a surprise to be here," he said dully.

Lupin eyed him calmly over the desk. "Oh?"

"If someone had told me half a year ago that I'd be here, in this position, I would have laughed in their face," Draco said, more out of musing to himself than in response to Lupin.

"Then why are you here?" Lupin prompted.

Draco set his attention back to his former professor. "I... was thinking I could maybe be of some-" He swallowed, "-use to you."

"In what way?"

"Well, with the war, of course," Draco snapped. "What else? I'm not so skilled in potion-making that I could drudge up the Wolfsbane Potion for you every month, like Snape-" He cut himself off abruptly, wishing he hadn't mentioned Snape.

Lupin's gaze grew very intent, but apart from that, Draco couldn't tell whether he was angry or suspicious or just plain indifferent at the mention of Snape. "Who killed him, Draco?" he asked, watching Draco closely, as though for some hint of an answer. "And why?"

"I don't know." Draco shrugged uncomfortably, an edge of irritation lining his voice. He didn't come here to talk about Snape, and what did the werewolf care, anyway? Snape was dead. Did it really matter whose side he'd really been on? "One of your lot Stunned me pretty early on, so I didn't see who killed him, or what happened."

"My lot?" Lupin raised his eyebrows.

"Yes," Draco drawled, "your lot. Your order."

If Lupin was either affronted or surprised by these words, he didn't show it, which only irritated Draco even more. "So you want to help with the war," Lupin said quietly, returning to the matter at hand. He paused, looking as though he were considering his next words very carefully. "I'm curious, Draco, as to why you thought to come to me about this?" Lupin's expression was carefully mild, deceptively innocent.

"I've just told you," Draco said flatly.

Lupin eyed him with an expression of innocence. "Told me what?"

Draco bit his tongue on a sarcastic reply and simply said, "Look, I- I've heard rumors."

"From fellow Death Eaters?"

Draco stared at him, somewhat petulant in his desire to remain silent.

Lupin sighed. "Do you have some information regarding Voldemort or the Death Eaters?"

Wishing the werewolf didn't so readily say the Dark Lord's name, Draco answered guardedly, "I might. Depends on what you want to know."

Lupin seemed to take this into consideration for some time. Draco was not a patient man, but he forced himself to remain silent and wait for a response. When it came, it was much as he expected. He would have been suspicious if Lupin had blindly trusted him.

"Why do you want to do this, Draco?"

"Well, mostly," he drawled, "because the alternative leaves... much to be desired."

Lupin studied him over the steeple of his fingertips. "Being a Death Eater, you mean?"

"That," Draco said dryly, "and being killed."

"So you want protection?" Lupin pressed.

Draco's mouth twisted. "My father seems to think I'll be protected enough if I return to... serving the Dark Lord faithfully." He laughed shortly, but there was no mirth in it. "The Dark Lord. Bleeding sack full of dung, more like. That's all that's left of him, isn't it?"

"So it appears." Lupin's eyes narrowed. "And you think your father might force you to continue as a Death Eater?"

Draco cocked his head to the side. "He would never force me, but there are... complications." He expected the next query to be about these 'complications,' but instead, Lupin asked,

"About your father... you know where he is?"

"No," Draco said without batting an eyelash. He felt no remorse over the lie. After all, he wasn't offering to help the order because he'd had a sudden attack of conscience. He was offering to help the order because it was currently the best way to stay alive and well, and to keep what was his alive and well. He would do what was necessary to stay alive, and betraying his father's whereabouts was not necessary. "But my father has his ways. I've had... messages." Draco was deliberately vague, and he hoped that this wasn't obvious to Lupin.

Lupin raised an eyebrow. "But these messages gave you no indication of where he might be?"

Damn him. "Look, I don't know where he is," Draco said shortly, "and truthfully, even if I did, I don't know that I'd tell you."

Lupin nodded and eyed him appraisingly. "So Lucius wants you to renew your... commitments to the Dark Lord. But you say he won't force you?" he asked, frowning.

"No, he wouldn't, not precisely," Draco agreed, relieved to lead the subject away from his father's whereabouts, "but there are ways- things- he could use to control me."

Again, Draco waited for a request to explain how he could be controlled, but something else came. "This may seem an odd question to you," Lupin said, "but... why don't you want to serve Voldemort anymore?"

Draco stared at him. "That is an odd question, especially from you."

"From me, yes," Lupin agreed, "but not for you."

This implication aggravated Draco. "Look, if you think that, just because my father-"

"Forgive me, Draco, but my reasons for asking have nothing to do with your father," Lupin interrupted, his eyes hardening. "They have to do with the mark on your arm and the actions you committed which earned you five years in prison."

Draco clamped his mouth shut, his emotions shutting down. He would not discuss that. He would not even think of those years, he just couldn't.

"And forgive me for being frank, Draco," Lupin went on, "but I think you generally hold the same beliefs as your father, and that of the Death Eaters, and of Voldemort himself."

Draco's lips twisted. "You're talking about Muggleborns now."

Lupin gave a single nod. "That I am."

There was a silence. Draco considered many lies, and then decided to go with honesty, as overrated as it was. "Yeah, all right," he heard himself say. "I don't like Muggleborns. I don't think they should be... allowed. Period. But I..." A shock of fear ran through Draco, and he shook his head. "Leave it to someone else. Not me. It's too far, too dangerous. I don't want to kill like that, I don't want to-" He stopped, well aware that he was babbling and coming across as a frightened, edgy rat.

"That's all well and good, Draco," Lupin broke in, a dismissive air to his tone, "and I believe you completely, but you said it yourself- leave it to someone else. That doesn't explain why you yourself want to join me and others in actually fighting against-"

"For Merlin's sake, Lupin, there are bigger things at risk here!" Draco burst out furiously, unable to contain himself any longer. "Don't you understand? It's not just me, it's-" He caught himself a second before he let it all out. Breathing very heavily, he got to his feet. He couldn't stand it any longer. "Look, if you're not going to help me, and I suppose I'm not surprised, then I should just-"

"This has to do with Miss Moon," Lupin said very calmly.

Draco froze. He stared at Lupin. "What?"

Lupin nodded for Draco to take his seat, but when he didn't, the werewolf went on anyway. "You're doing this for Carina," he said, his manner suddenly pleasant, "and for your child."

Draco felt as though his insides were frozen. "I don't know what you mean."

"Mr. Malfoy-" and Draco nearly jumped with the change of address, "-I think you know very well what I mean. Please, sit down."

They were polite words, but Draco collapsed into the chair as though it were the only act that could save his life. "She told you," he said flatly. "She wasn't supposed to tell any-"

"Yes, she did," Lupin confirmed, "though you needn't worry. I assure you I am not about to tell your father, or anyone else, that Carina is expecting your child."

Draco was no longer breathing hard, in fact, he had forgotten to breathe at all. He shook his head, utterly overwhelmed.

"So I would assume," Lupin went on, "that you fear that, should your father discover that Carina's child is yours, he, along with the rest of the Death Eaters, might use this as a method to control you."

Draco nodded, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He let out a huge breath and slumped in his chair. "Why?"

"Pardon?"

"Why did she tell you?" Draco demanded. "I mean, are you honestly- I mean to say, what did she expect you to do about it?"

Lupin eyed Draco with a scrutinizing gaze. There was a very long pause. He seemed to be considering Draco.

"She wanted advice," Lupin finally said, "and that is really all I can, at my discretion, say. If you want to know more, I suggest you ask her yourself."

But Draco wasn't really listening. He narrowed his eyes, the gears in his mind working furiously. "She works for you, doesn't she?" he demanded, glancing up at Lupin to see the werewolf's reaction. Secretly, he was hoping it wasn't true; the idea was ludicrous, surely?

Lupin coughed uncertainly, averting his eyes. "Draco, that is not-"

"She-" Draco blinked in astonishment, feeling as though he'd been gutted with the realization. "She told you about the baby because she's reporting to you," he finished, his eyes widening. "She's- she's been spying on me?"

"Draco-"

"She's been spying on me!" Draco thundered, springing out of his chair. "That's what this is all about, that's what's been going on for- how long, Lupin? Since you found out we were dating, and decided to use it to your advantage? Or before that, is that why-"

"Draco, sit down." Lupin rose to his feet, looking quite cross. "That is irrelevant. What matters-"

"No, no what's irrelevant is this entire meeting!" Draco shouted, "because all that matters is that you and your lot, you self-righteous Mudbloods and half-breeds and blood traitors, will never trust me, will you?"

"Well, why should we?" Lupin came around his desk, suddenly quite furious himself. "Tell me, Draco, what have you ever done that should give us reason to trust you?"

"It was all a lie, wasn't it?" Draco shook his head, laughing in spite of himself. "All that piffle Dumbledore tossed at me the night he died, about you lot helping me-"

"What on earth are you talking about?" Lupin demanded.

"Oh, bugger it," Draco spat. "It doesn't matter. I must have been starkers to think I could come to you for protection-"

"Shall I assume you'll be taking it from the Death Eaters instead, then?" Lupin asked coolly.

Draco stared at him, fury boiling in his chest. Without another world, he whirled around to stalk out of the room.

"Draco!" Lupin called after him. "Draco, we can still help you! You have choices besides death and joining the ranks of Voldemort-"

"Yeah, well, looks like I'm going to have to make my own choices," Draco muttered, reaching for the door handle.

"Draco," Lupin said one last time, a note of warning to his voice.

Draco yanked the door open, but with a sigh, he turned back to Lupin.

"You want to protect Carina and her child." Lupin smiled ironically. "Well, and yourself, of course. And that, we can help you with."

Essentially, his assessment was correct, though Draco wasn't sure about the Carina part. He liked her well enough, he supposed, but had it been her alone, he didn't think he would have taken the risk by offering himself to Lupin. But the baby...

Draco set himself firmly. "It's my child," he said, and he felt an oddly reckless streak come through him. "It's my child, and I'll be damned before I see it in anyone else's power."

- - - - -

Ginny sighed, staring around the massive entrance hall surrounding her. She'd had a long day. An exhausting, miserable, life-changing day, and on top of that, she wasn't at all feeling well. She was fairly certain she'd forgotten to take one of her potions- she had several to take after the curse she'd been hit with in Diagon Alley several weeks before- and all she wanted to do was get this farce of a task over with and get home, so that she could go to bed.

But here she was. Waiting in the entrance hall of Malfoy bloody Manor for that Death Eater ponce to show his ratty face. By the time he actually did show, she'd made herself comfortable in a chair near the stairwell, arms folded over her chest and scowl in place.

Malfoy approached her with a sneer, and he raised his eyebrows when he found her making herself at home in his chair. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" he demanded, his eyes narrowed. "I've enough of harassment from Aurors, thank you very much. I don't know where my father is, and I've done my time in prison, so I haven't anything to-"

"I'm not here on Auror business," Ginny interrupted with some exasperation, the mere mention of Aurors startling her. "So you don't need to recite your polished lies for me."

"I'm touched by your trust in me, Weasley," Malfoy said dryly. "If you're not here officially, then I've nothing to say to you. You can show yourself out," he finished, turning away.

"You're being stupid, you know," Ginny called after him, "though I can't say I'm surprised. You haven't showed much common sense in the past, so why start now?"

Malfoy stopped in his tracks, throwing a speculative glance at Ginny over his shoulder. "You were never really friends with her, were you?"

Ginny blinked. "What?"

"You probably never even saw her," he went on, turning around to face her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "At least, not outside of your little order get-togethers."

"You..." Ginny shook her head, vaguely confused. "You're talking about Carina?"

"You were in on it, too, weren't you?" A fierce glare spread across Malfoy's face, marring his aristocratic features. "Spying on me. I knew I was running into you just a touch too often. And to think-" He laughed suddenly, catching Ginny off-guard, "to think that I actually believed you two were friends. You, friends with Carina Moon."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" Ginny demanded, her temper flaring. She wanted to spring to her feet and slap him across the face, but the thought of coming to her feet tired her even more than she already was.

Malfoy smirked. "Only that you don't seem much her type, Weasley."

"Well," Ginny said coolly, "I guess you aren't really hers, either."

He didn't seem as angry as he ought to have been, considering Carina had cheated on him and gotten pregnant by someone else. He scowled at her, but it seemed half-hearted. "Get out of my house, Weasley. I already told your werewolf pal that I don't want any part of you lot."

"Which is why I'm here, Malfoy." Ginny glared, forcing her next words out between gritted teeth. "Lupin sent me to-"

"Oh, of course!" Malfoy interjected. "Lupin sent you. Sent you to, what, finish his botched job? Convince me to run to your order for help?"

"Isn't that what you did?"

"A brief lapse in judgment, Weasley." Malfoy sneered. "Needless to say, I've since changed my mind. Get. Out."

Ginny felt her ire rising rapidly. She was so heated with frustration- frustration with this prat, frustration with Lupin for even considering this- that she actually felt as though she were growing hot, a light sheen of sweat dampening her hairline. "Do you think I want this anymore than you do?" she demanded angrily. "Really? You think I want to help you, Merlin's sake, to work with you-"

"I'm quite sure you don't," Malfoy said coldly.

"You're right." Ginny dug her nails into the arms of her chair, both out of irritation and discomfort; it was taking so much effort just to focus on talking to him. "I don't. So I certainly wouldn't waste my time on you if I didn't think-"

"Think what, Weasley?" Malfoy spat. "That it would be worth it, somehow? Well, you're going to be sorely disappointed, then, because I already told you that I don't know where my father is, and I have nothing else to say on anything to do with-"

"Malfoy." Ginny threw a hand out in front of her, as though to stem his sullen tirade. "That wasn't at all what I was talking about. I meant-"

"Wasn't it?" Malfoy's eyes narrowed in a suspicious glare. "What else could you want from me, then? It isn't as though you..." His eyes widened. "No."

"Malfoy," Ginny sighed, wishing he would shut up and let her finish, so she could go home. "Just-"

"No!" he exclaimed, taking her by surprise. His voice was so strident that Ginny felt as though he'd knocked her head around with the word. "She hasn't- I don't believe it- does the whole bleeding order know? Has she told everyone?"

"What?" Confused, Ginny shook her head and shut her eyes. She really was feeling very hot all of a sudden, which was strange, considering it was the dead of winter and she was stuck inside a drafty old manor.

"That stupid little bint!" Malfoy shouted. Ginny winced, wishing he would lower his voice; she really couldn't concentrate over the noise. What on earth was he talking about, anyway? Had he just called her a bint? Or, no, he was talking about someone else... wasn't he?

"...I don't care if she was spying on me!" Ginny shook her head, trying to focus on Malfoy. "How can she expect to keep the baby safe if she runs off prattling to all her friends?"

"Baby?" Ginny murmured, but Malfoy didn't seem to have heard her. Baby... spying on him... was he talking about Carina again? Ginny shut her eyes and swallowed, trying to breathe evenly and think. What possible interest could he have in Carina's baby? What would he care if it was safe; Carina had cheated on him, and the baby wasn't his...

Ginny blinked several times; her vision had seemed a bit fuzzy for a moment, but she hardly paid it any attention, her mind stuck on a sudden realization. The baby isn't his... is it? Ginny's eyes widened. So that was why he'd gone to Lupin, not only for himself, but for-

Malfoy was still yelling about the baby, about Carina, but he finally fell silent when she lurched to her feet, feeling the blood drain from her face.

"Carina... you..." Ginny shook her head, the shock and exhaustion suddenly all too much. "The baby is yours?"

Malfoy's eyes widened and he went rigidly still, as he seemed to realize that she hadn't known. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it suddenly, looking faintly puzzled. "Weasley?"

That was the last she heard. Everything suddenly began to spin uncertainly, and the pounding in her head seemed to reach a crescendo. Then the fatigue, the heat, everything seemed to crash over her, and she fell into a black void of unconsciousness.

- - - - -

"Shit," Draco muttered, for what seemed like the millionth time, as he dropped Ginny Weasley onto a sofa in the drawing room. She'd collapsed. Just collapsed, right then and there, while he was in the middle of shouting at her. What in the bloody hell was wrong with her?

Once she was settled, he stepped back and shut his eyes briefly. She hadn't known. She hadn't known, about the baby, and he'd all but told her. Frustrated, Draco raked a hand through his hair and shook his head. He needed to think, to get his head straight. Right, well, it's not like she'll tell anyone. What did she have to gain by doing that? Even if she wasn't really friends with Carina, they were in the bloody order together, so surely Weasley wouldn't want anything to happen to her. Draco sneered. She was a bloody Gryffindor, of course she wouldn't want anything to happen to Carina. Just on principle, she'd probably keep her bloody mouth shut.

And that was if she even remembered any of this when she woke up. Which she probably wouldn't, Draco reasoned, as he leaned forward to get a better look at her. Her freckled face had gone ashen, though her cheeks were flushed red. Cringing a little as he did so, Draco tentatively reached out and touched two fingertips to her forehead, only for a very brief, very quick moment. Merlin, she was burning up. What in the hell was wrong with her?

Well, he certainly didn't want anything to happen to her in his house. Not because he cared, by any means, but he didn't want to be blamed for this. Which meant the best thing to do was wake her up and send her packing.

"Right then." Draco sighed wearily and perched on the very edge of the sofa. Leveling his wand at her, he murmured, "Ennervate."

Weasley stirred, her eyelids fluttering. When she turned her head in his direction, it slipped off of the armrest with a thud, and her eyes flew open with a flash of pain. "Ow..." she mumbled.

Draco snickered. "What in the hell is wrong with you, Weasley?"

"Huh... wh-what? Mal- foy?" Struggling to sit up, she turned an unfocused gaze on him, and Draco was startled by the feverish glaze veiling her eyes. Perhaps she was even more ill than he'd thought. "What's..." Her words ended in a soft groan as she reached a hand to her head.

"Are you sick or something?"

"I..." Weasley blinked slowly. "I need my potion."

"What potion?" Draco folded his arms over his chest.

"My..." She flopped back against the sofa, as though she were simply too exhausted to sit upright any longer. "I think I forgot to take my potion," she croaked.

"Oh, sweet Merlin," Draco muttered, dropping his face in his hand. Really, this is just what I needed today. A crazy, feverish blood traitor, collapsed in my drawing room. "Look, Weasley, just get up, and you can Floo home. Unless you want to try Apparating like this and splinch yourself." Now that was an appealing idea.

Weasley, however, didn't seem to have heard him. "Malfoy... just..." The rest of her words were nothing more than an incoherent mumble as her eyes slowly shut and she began to slip back into sleep.

"Weasley. Wake up." Her eyes flew open with a gasp as Draco took her by the arms and forcibly hauled her to her feet. But when she stumbled and pitched forward, knocking her head hard into Draco's chest, he began to rethink the idea of Flooing her home.

"Damn it," he muttered, practically pushing her back onto the sofa. "Well, clearly you shouldn't Floo home like this."

She looked at him through hooded eyes, and for a moment, she seemed lucid. And suspicious. "Why would you care?"

"I don't relish being thrown in prison again for damaging one of the Ministry's prize Aurors," he drawled. When she only blinked in response, he crossed the room and stepped out into the hall to find a house elf and call for a fever-reducing potion. It would make her a little loopy, but then again, she already seemed to be deluded.

Most certainly deluded, because when he came back into the drawing room, it was to find the redheaded bint giggling like a madwoman. "Merlin, Weasley, have you gone completely off your rocker?" he demanded.

"I'm- I'm not," she managed to get out between giggles.

"Not stark raving mad?" Rolling his eyes, Draco crossed the room to face her. "Because that's where you're wrong. You're completely-"

"I'm not an Auror anymore." She stopped laughing abruptly as soon as she spoke the words, as though shocked by her own admission. "I- I'm not..."

Draco shook his head. Not an Auror anymore? She really had lost her marbles. "What do you mean, you're not an Auror? If this is some trick to get me to let my guard down-"

"They said I spent too much time on Blaise." Draco glanced at her sharply and was startled by how somber she'd become within a few seconds. Her eyes had gone wide, but she wasn't looking at him. Instead, she stared at her hands, hanging limply in her lap. She looked... defeated. "They said it was affecting my... work. I guess." She laughed again, or tried to, but it came out more like a half-sob. "Do you think he could possibly be alive?" she asked, glancing up at him suddenly.

Draco couldn't really say why, but the hope in her eyes- raw, vulnerable, so completely exposed- awakened a strange, crushing sensation in his chest. The sensation was foreign and uncomfortable, and Draco turned away suddenly. "Look, Weasley, you- oh, good, here," he said, eager to see that the elf had returned with the potion. "Take this, and I'm going to Floo someone to get you home."

"Are you trying to kill me?" she asked, taking the small vial and staring at its contents with a dubious expression.

"If only," Draco said between clenched teeth. "Just take the damn potion, Weasley," he said, crossing the room to the fireplace. "You may feel a little disoriented, but unfortunately, it won't kill you."

With a heavy sigh, Draco took a handful of Floo powder and paused before the fireplace. Just who, exactly, was he supposed to Floo? He shuddered at the thought of contacting another Weasley. That was out of the question. Lupin, perhaps? But as silly as it was, Draco simply didn't want to speak to the werewolf again so soon. He'd already tried going to him for help once, and the thought of doing it again- even on behalf of a Weasley- was intolerable.

That really only left him one choice, didn't it?

Snarling to himself, Draco tossed the Floo powder into the fireplace and shouted the name of his location, grimacing at the prospect of speaking to-

"Oy! Granger! I know you're still there; surely you don't-"

"Malfoy?" The Mudblood cut through his words as she came into view in her office.

"-leave work until two in the morning," Draco finished. He smirked. "I see I was right."

Granger scowled, folding her arms over her chest. "Well, I can't afford to leave too early, can I? Not when there are criminals like you roaming the streets."

"I did my time, if you'll recall," Draco answered coolly.

"Not nearly enough time," she snapped. "What do you want, Malfoy? I can't imagine what on earth could prompt you to actually contact Auror intelligence. Usually, we're the ones after you."

Draco bit his tongue on another insult. He didn't have time for this; he just wanted the little weasel gone. "Well, your precious order decided to send someone to my home to pester me-"

"I don't know what order you're talking about."

"Of course you don't." Draco rolled his eyes. "Anyway, so I've got Weasley here, delusional with fever. I don't know-"

"Ron is at your house?" she cut in, horrified.

"I meant the she-Weasley, Granger. Really, I know it's so hard to keep track of them all, but-"

"Oh, dear. Ginny's ill? She must've forgotten to take one of her potions," Granger worried.

At the mention of the potion again, Draco's curiosity got the better of him. "Yes, she said something about that. What potion?"

"She has to take several after she was hit by that curse in Diagon Alley," Granger said absently, looking as though she'd completely forgotten who she was talking to. "It's the same one I got hit by fifth year when-" She broke off, snapping out of her daze, and sent Draco a sharp look. "Are you sure about this, Malfoy, or have you done something to her?"

"Why do you think I'm so eager to get her out of my house, Granger?" Draco bit back nastily. "I know you lot are just looking for another excuse to lock me up-"

"All right, all right. I suppose she's too ill to travel?"

"Would I be wasting my time speaking to you if she weren't?"

"Fine." Granger sighed. "I'll be there in five minutes. I don't suppose you'll let your wards down so I can Apparate straight in there?"

Draco sneered. "It takes hours to get those wards down, Mudblood. Besides, I wouldn't-"

"Fine, then I'll be there in ten minutes. Goodbye."

Scowling, Draco pulled his head from the fireplace. Merlin, but that jumped-up Mudblood irritated him even more than Potter and all the Weasleys put together. Well, maybe not Potter, he mused, ambling over to the sofa.

The little weasel was asleep again, or so he thought, but when he reached her side her eyes flew open. Much to his surprise and utter dismay, she smiled lazily at him. "Hey, you."

Clearly, the fever-reducing potion had worked. If Ginny Weasley, gazing up at him with something almost like adoration, wasn't the craziest thing he'd ever seen, then he didn't know what was. "You're barmy, Weasley," he informed her. "Absolutely nutters."

"Well, that's no way to talk to me." She scowled and folded her arms over her chest, even though her eyes still sparkled in amusement, as though the show of annoyance was just that- nothing more than a put-on. "After you've been gone for so long."

"Merlin, weasel, I was gone for two minutes, talking to that Mudblood Granger." Draco rolled his eyes. "I'd hardly call that lo-"

"Don't, I'm being serious." Before he could react, she snatched him up by the wrist and yanked him into the sofa beside her. He was so startled that he didn't even have time to pull away. Draco opened his mouth to deliver another nasty insult when she added, "And I've told you not to call her that, Blaise."

Draco froze, his wrist still clutched in Weasley's hand. He didn't even notice as her fingers slid down his palm to entwine with his. All of a sudden, the situation- which had been both annoying and amusing- didn't seem very funny anymore.

She thought he was Zabini. She was delirious, Merlin, she thought he was her dead boyfriend. Something violent and unexpected knotted in the pit of his stomach, and Draco felt like he was going to be sick. He couldn't say why this bothered him so much- she was a bloody Weasley, after all, he should have found this perfectly hilarious- and yet, he couldn't help the nausea roiling inside him.

The strange impulse made him want to run, but with Weasley's hand locked around his, her dark eyes boring into him, he found he couldn't move an inch. "Everyone thinks you're dead, you know," she said, and her tone was so completely unruffled that it unnerved him even more, "but that hasn't stopped me. And look, now you're back. I knew you would be."

Draco couldn't stand to hear anymore. "Weasley, I'm not-"

"But why were you gone for so long?" And if she'd been calm and composed before, she was anything but now. Without warning, her eyes filled with tears, her expression twisting into a picture of distress. "I missed you so much," she whispered shakily.

"Weasley, I'm not Blaise." Practically squirming in discomfort, Draco tried to pull his hand away, but her grip tightened and she grabbed a hold of his other hand, pulling him closer.

"Don't," she said sharply. "Please, Blaise... don't leave. Not again."

Draco couldn't think, not with her so close to him, with her hands entwined in his. He couldn't breathe; he felt as though he were going to pass out. She leaned closer, and everything around her seemed to be fading into blackness.

He couldn't get his head straight. He tried to conjure up familiar thoughts and feelings; he tried to remember that she was a Weasley, and a Gryffindor, part of the bloody Order. He tried to recall every old prejudice, tried to focus on the fact that she was a blood traitor, a filthy disgrace to any pureblood.

But he couldn't remember any of those things. He could only remember the strange feeling he'd always had around her, the strange thoughts that ran through his mind when anyone mentioned her name.

Like the time he'd first seen her, when he was only twelve years old and trading jibes with Potter in a bookshop, and she'd stood up for Scarface and something almost like... envy had surged through him. And when she'd sent Potter that ridiculous Valentine, and it was so pathetic that it enraged him, far more than it should have. And when she'd cast that Bat-Bogey Hex on him... and he should have hated her for it, and he did hate her for it, but at the same time, her fierceness had awakened something in him, something that was frighteningly like... respect.

He'd always squashed these feelings as soon as they'd surfaced, before he could really decipher what they meant. But now, as she gazed at him, thinking he was her dead lover, for a moment- just a moment- he let those strange feelings surface... and stay.

So when she leaned in towards him, he didn't even think twice as he brushed his lips over hers. Once, twice, before she deepened the kiss, closing the last bit of distance between them. And any last thoughts Draco had about her being a Weasley, a blood traitor, completely slipped from his mind as he lost himself in the sheer intimacy between them. But then she slipped one of her hands from his to wrap it behind his neck, and something inside of him snapped- the touch of her fingers on the back of his neck was like a sharp jolt of reality, and he pulled back so quickly it stung.

The intimacy wasn't between them. It was between her and Zabini.

Weasley's expression was startled and confused when he broke away, so startled that she let go of his hand in surprise. Before either one of them could say anything- before Draco could discern whether or not she still thought he was Zabini- a house elf entered to announce the Mudblood's arrival, and Draco leapt off the sofa so fast that he barely remembered making his way into the entrance hall.

He traded a few halfhearted insults with Granger in a daze as he led her into the drawing room, his thoughts muddled with strange feelings he couldn't sort out quickly enough. As he stepped into the drawing room, he experienced a fleeting panic that Weasley would say something about the kiss, especially if she was still out of it. But when he brought Granger into the room, they found the little weasel once again asleep, her fiery red hair covering the sofa around her.

"Oh, dear." Granger sighed. "Well, I suppose she can side-along Apparate with me like this."

Draco didn't answer, due to the fact that he really wasn't listening. He only stared at Weasley, entranced by the vividly red mass draped over his sofa. Before he could stop himself, he asked, "Whatever happened to the nephew?"

"Excuse me?" Granger turned on him with a suspicious gaze. "What on earth are you talking about?"

Feeling rather stupid now, Draco snapped, "Her nephew, Granger, wasn't he at Diagon Alley when it was attacked, last month?"

"Ye-es." Granger watched him astutely, and Draco had the uncomfortable feeling that she could see right through him. "He's fine. I got to him before Ginny was even knocked out. Why do you ask?"

Wishing he hadn't asked, Draco shot back, "Never mind, Mudblood. Just get out of my house."

Once they were gone, Draco retired to the lounge and poured himself glass after glass of Firewhiskey, in an attempt to purge himself of the tumultuous storm raging through him. But no matter how much he drank, he couldn't seem to see anything past that vividly red hair, spread over his sofa like a blanket of rose petals.