The Darkness Presides

Draco Malfoy ran his aching fingers through his silver hair for the forty-third time in an hour, muttering to himself under his breath. Again and again he raked his eyes over the pages of Dark Arts: A Thousand and One Spells and Enchantments. Technically, the book was not supposed to be in circulation. If truth be told, he´d stolen it from his father´s private store, in the hopes he knew the contents so well he wouldn´t miss it. He searched the unyielding text for some sign of what he was looking for.

He glanced over at the well-documented list of the curses; it had caused him such pain to write each curse with a detailed account of the effects and counter-curse. He flexed his wrist. Such an annoyance, such a strain on his time and patience, but it had to be done. He would die to protect the contents of those notes; they were already armed with many repelling charms. They were invisible to anyone who he didn't wish to see them. And he was so afraid it wouldn't be enough that it was killing him.

There. There it was, staring him in the face. Blinking his bleary eyes, he lowered his quill to a piece of parchment and forced his fingers to make notes on this particular curse. For a prolonged period of time he wrote, quoting the book word for word, hoping beyond all hope that this would be enough - enough to end this once and for all.

~***~

"Ginny!" Mrs. Weasley called anxiously.

"What Mum?" Ginny called back, the exasperation evident in her voice.

"Aren't you ready yet? Your father and I are going to leave with or without you in a minute!" Her voice held a hint of motherly annoyance and Ginny smiled. She knew they wouldn't really leave her here by herself, no matter how mad they became.

Ginny ran her brush through her long red hair again, grinning at her reflection in the oblong mirror. She had to look absolutely perfect for this job interview. If she was to work undercover for the Ministry, it was vital she blend into the Muggle world. She would, of course need the money too; apparently Sickles and Galleons didn't go over too well in the non-magical community. Ginny chuckled at the thought of handing the landlord in her apartment complex a dozen silver wizard coins for rent.

Straightening her most schoolgirl-like blouse one last time, she bounded down the stairs two at a time, clutching a black messenger bag.

"Coming!"

Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had offered to drive Ginny to her interview in London 'for that Muggle touch', in a beaten old Pinto Mr. Weasley had borrowed from a friend. Since Ginny was staying with her parents for the weekend anyway, she had accepted. Really, she was thankful to have someplace to go when she had to escape the noise and generally drunken population of her apartment building. She'd only been there a month, living on Ministry money, and already she'd grown sick of the place. Her boss thought it best to lay low for a month or two before she began her job in earnest. Today was the last step in assimilating her into her new environment.

"You look lovely, Gin. They'd be fools not to hire you." Her father grinned at her from the front seat of the car.

"Somehow the job description gave me the impression they didn't hire for looks alone," she teased, then, in a mock stern voice, "'Business minded, serious individual required to fill sales representative position. Room for promotion.'"

"Well, you do look professional...in a lovely way." Ginny smiled at her father, then sank back into her seat, gazing out the window as the car pulled away from the Burrow.

After many reproaches from Mrs. Weasley, ("Arthur! Right! No, brake, brake! For mercy's sake, watch for that dog!") they finally screeched to a halt in front of Turncoats, a Muggle fashion store.

"Thanks for the ride, Dad, Mum."

"Be careful d..." Her mother's words were lost as Ginny shut the door and strode confidently into the brightly lit store. She weaved her way through the racks of clothes and headed up the stairs.

"Third door on the left..." she muttered to herself as she knocked firmly on said door. It opened almost immediately, and she was greeted with the image of a stern woman in a large leather chair. The person who had opened the door smiled nervously. He couldn't be more than twenty-one - her own age. She smiled back at him, watching him fiddle with the end of his sports coat uncomfortably.

"Hello. Miss Weasley, I presume?" Ginny's smile faltered just a little as she took in the icy tone in the woman's voice, but bravely she took a few more steps into the room.

"Yes, that's me."

"Please, sit down." The woman's voice suggested that she'd rather Ginny not infect her chair, but was too polite to say so. Ginny glanced at the nameplate on her desk. It read 'Melinda Fairleisse' in scrolling script. Somehow the fanciful name and equally fanciful italic writing didn't suit the starchy woman.

"Thank you. Here's a copy of my resume." Ginny handed a page of fabricated positions to Ms. Fairleisse. There was silence for a few seconds, as she leafed through the listing of jobs Ginny had previously 'worked'.

"Miss Weasley, I believe there is no need to continue this interview. You are more than qualified, and I'm in a hurry to fill this position. The previous sales rep. has left me in an awkward spot by trying to go on maternity leave. As if I have the time or money to spare just because she feels the need to bring another brat into this world." Ginny nodded dumbly, aghast at the very little regard the older woman showed for anyone but herself. "You start Monday, nine o'clock. Don't be late. Percival, show Miss Weasley out please."

The nervous man grasped Ginny's elbow lightly and steered her out of the office and towards the stairs.

"It's alright, really. Percival, is it? My brother's name is Percival too," she said lightly, extracting her arm from his soft grip and turning to face him.

"N-no, Miss. I-I have to...to show you out." She saw him swallow, and he pushed his rectangular glasses farther up on his nose.

"Now really, Percy, I'm a big girl. I'm sure I can find the door all on my own. Worked rather well for me on the way in." Nevertheless, she heard his footsteps follow her down the stairs and to the door.

"G-good day, Miss." Turning slightly, she reprimanded him. Ginny hated all titles, and despised the forced politeness of the world.

"No more of this 'Miss' business." The twinkle in her eye set the young man at ease. "My name's Virginia. You, however, can call me Ginny."

With a wave, she glided out the door, leaving a stunned Percival in her wake. He pushed his light brown hair out of his eyes to watch her go.

~***~

Slipping the thick volume back on the shelf where he'd found it, Draco glanced around the gloom of the hidden room of Malfoy Manor. The coast clear, he trod quietly back up to his bedroom. He knew the magic employed on the entrance would not alert his father of his presence there, as his was Malfoy blood.

Hurriedly, he threw his most important belongings into a dragon hide suitcase. Wand, as many clothes as he could fit, and his stack of letters fell into the expensive casing. His notes - his precious, protected notes, he tucked into his inside jacket pocket. Picking up a quill, he hastily wrote a note of a different sort to his father.

Father-

I have gone to a place I will not name now to practice on a few Muggles and Mudbloods. I will return when I feel I have made the best possible wizard of myself to devote my life to the Dark Lord. This may take a year or more, but it will be time well spent if I am to serve Him properly. My allegiance is nothing without talent. My execution of the curses must be perfect for my initiation. When I am worthy to bear the Dark Mark on my arm, I shall return. Please do not look for me, I wish to have solitude, and to be inconspicuous.

I tried to contact you, but Meiares returned my letter several times.

-Draco

Snorting at his Daddy's boy choice of words, he Apparated without bothering to let the crimson ink dry. Come what may, he'd do what he had to do.

~***~

Small footsteps went unheard in the chaos that was Ginny's apartment building. People were hanging out of doorways, yelling at each other across the halls. Unconscious men littered the lobby; although, when she'd ridden the elevator to her floor, she wished it were the same on that level. Unfortunately for her, the drunks and the wannabe bad boys were still awake. A few lewd offers followed her on the trip to her front door, but mercifully they faded as she put the key in the lock. Thirty seconds later she was safely in her living room, curled up on a large, battered couch.

No sooner had Ginny propped open her favorite book; a knock startled her out of her relaxation. Cautiously, she pressed her ear to the thin wood. There was no peephole, so she opened the door a slit and peered into the hallway. The book was raised above her head as a weapon against forced entry. When she saw who it was however, she swung the door open on its hinges.

"Hello Percy! What brings you here?" And how do you know where I live? she added mentally. Her mouth ached from the fake smile she'd had pasted on her face all day, and she couldn't wait until Percy left to let it fall completely.

"Ms. Fairleisse in-insisted I bring this to you, Miss. I mean, G-Ginny." He held up her black messenger bag by the strap and Ginny felt her shoulder in disbelief. She couldn't believe she'd been so careless with it. "I g-got your address from your re...resume." Ginny reached out and took the bag, hugging it selfishly to her chest.

"Thank you so much, Percy. You have no idea how important this is to me. I'd be lost without it." He blushed deeply, reminding her of how Harry had gone red when she'd given him that valentine as a kid. Don't think about him, we've been down that road already... her brain warned. "It was nice of you to bring it over."

"You live here?" he asked in shock, seeming to take in the whole scene all at once. She noticed his stutter disappeared in his indignation.

"It's not much but I call it...something vaguely reminiscent of home," she said with a small, forced laugh. "This job is a godsend, maybe I can get a better place if I save up." Percival nodded at her, still skeptical. "Look, I hate to put you off but I have a lot of work to do on, um, my apartment. I'll see you Monday?"

"S-sure."

"Great! Looking forward to it!" She closed the door on him as he shuffled off down the hall. As soon as he was out of earshot she threw the bag on a chair and screamed. "Virginia you stupid git!" She kicked the sofa in frustration and anger at her foolishness. The black bag contained every briefing, every summary of every suspicious person she was on the mission to investigate.

In sudden panic Ginny rifled through the bag's contents, and was extremely relieved to find everything exactly the way she had left it. Wand, Sneakoscope, important papers...it was all there. She sighed in relief. Thank Merlin Percival wasn't nosy.

Slowly she extracted the most intriguing paper of all. It was a description of her contact, a man who would connect her with those she needed to speak to. He was supposed to arrive tonight. The paper said that they could not reveal his name prior to her meeting him, as it was quite dangerous even to leave a vague summary of his looks in her hands lest he be exposed. According to the Ministry, the man was tall, at least six feet, and blonde. They said he had one distinguishing feature, a tattoo of a coiled python on the inside of his wrist.

Carefully, taking care not to leave a word intact, Ginny shredded the memo into a thousand pieces and set it alight with her wand.

"Incendio." Instantly, it burst into flame and fell to her feet a mere pile of ash. She stepped on it to extinguish the few stubborn embers that burned insistently among the smooth grains. Cleaning her mess with a simple tidying spell, she heard a soft popping noise outside her door shortly followed by a knock.

When she opened the door, she couldn't stop staring at the man in front of her.

Draco let a boyish half smile creep onto his face as he looked down at the obviously shell-shocked Weasley. He looked straight into her heavily lashed brandy colored eyes and winked. The effect was amazing. In a split second she went from a cowering little girl to a stern woman, hands on hips and looking very dangerous.

Draco took the time to appreciate her fully, running his eyes up her curved figure from her toes to her flushed but quickly paling face. Her hair, a beautiful tumble of copper, dark and lighter red fell in loose waves over her petite shoulders. A faint cinnamon sprinkling of freckles dotted her fair complexion. He watched her frown up at him and arch a perfect eyebrow, her gaze traveling over every inch of his face as if desperate to prove his identity false.

Finally, she met his eyes and gave him her best glare. His smirk stretched lazily over his face, taking its sweet time, as the man who owned it often did.

"Hello, Weasel," he drawled.

"Malfoy," she spat, staring into his silver gray eyes with a venom usually reserved for very large and poisonous snakes.

When he took a step into the room she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back. Astonished, he could only look at her.

"Stay out of my apartment, Malfoy. It's dirty enough without someone like you in it." Draco's face instantly darkened in anger and he caught her wrist, twisting it behind her back and pulling her toward him until she was eye level with his chest.

"I suggest you move, Virginia," he said, warping her name into something detestable. "I thought you might be smarter, and try to be pleasant to your contact. But you're just as hot headed as your brother, and twice as moronic." He swore he heard her mutter something along the lines of 'No one's thicker than Ron' but he couldn't be sure. Regardless, she seemed to unconsciously turn up her nose at him.

"How do I know you're my contact? They said tall and blonde, not ugly or Slytherin grease ball." Ginny muttered, attempting to free her arm from his grasp. Allowing his leather jacket to slip down his arm, Draco shoved his unoccupied wrist under her nose. On it was a beautiful rendition of a coiled red and black python with haunting silver, slitted eyes. Ginny refused to like it. "How quaint. Did Al the bartender give you that with a toothpick?" she said, mimicking his drawling voice.

He released her arm, and she rubbed it hard in an effort to get the blood flowing again. Ginny took half a dozen steps away from him, eager to keep her distance. "It's magical. Changes color with my mood. Not that that's any of your business."

"I hope it stays vaguely manly. A pink and purple snake after spending the night with Crabbe or Goyle is hardly acceptable," she said, eyes sparkling with silent amusement while her voice stayed forcibly casual.

Draco scowled in her general direction while glancing about her apartment, but the portion of his tattoo she could see was the dead black of night.

"I don't find that even faintly amusing, Weasel."

"Back to Weasel then are we? And I thought we were making such progress!"

"Virginia..." he said with effort, a warning lingering beneath his voice regardless.

"Alright, alright, I'm sorry I speculated about your private life." Her mouth twitched inadvertently. "It's really none of my business if you wear leather trousers, or that your socks are pink, or that every night you meet your boyfriend in a deserted alley..." Draco snarled at her, obviously restraining himself from attacking her altogether. She smiled at him sweetly, a deceptively innocent turning of her mouth. "Right then," she said. "You know, I wasn't joking about the socks. They are pink."

He looked down and pulled up his pant leg. His socks were the promised color.

"Next time you do laundry, remember that whites and reds do not go in the same load." His mouth twitched in a smile gone wrong that then twisted itself into his trademark smirk.

"Where do I sleep?" He started slightly when Ginny's face turned a deep shade of red.

"You...you're staying here?" His gray eyes slanted down at her, making her duck her head for a moment before she remembered she was no longer eleven years old.

"Yes," he drawled, drawing the word out into two syllables as if explaining to a very slow pre-schooler.

"But there isn't room!" Draco observed with interest as her already flushed skin deepened in its rather attractive blush. It flattered her complexion not to be so pale all the time. Or perhaps it was only the initial shock of seeing him that had drained her face of blood. He forced himself to focus on her words and almost laughed when he realized that she was ashamed to admit there was no room for him to stay. "There's only one bedroom, you'd have to sleep on the couch. And the couch is too small for you to stretch out on and..." she trailed off as it dawned on her that she was babbling like an idiot.

"I'm sure I can make do. Believe me, I don't want to be here even more than you don't want me to be here." He shook his head in a way he knew made his white blond hair fall just so across his forehead. Ginny melted just a little bit.

Well...how bad can one Malfoy be? Inwardly she laughed at her own naivety. Okay, very bad. But hey, eye candy! Gotta love the boys in leather...

Ginny's lecherous side won out, due, in her opinion, to lack of male contact save old Ministry officials for the last few training weeks.

"Okay," she sighed, suggesting with her tone that the word had cost her too much precious breath. "Put your things over there." He watched the movement of her arm to indicate a corner near the cheap TV set.

Draco could feel her eyes on him, observing his every move. Suspicious much? He thought, but when he turned around he saw only an appraising expression set on her features. Smiling to himself, he closed the distance between them in a few strides and bent down to whisper in her ear.

"No need to wait until I turn around, Virginia," he breathed, the familiar drawl coating his words with liquid poison, "I'm used to it."

Backing away from him abruptly, she refused to meet his eyes as she gathered her jacket and thrust her arms in the sleeves roughly. "I'm going out," she declared, and a second later the door slammed hard leaving Draco alone in the apartment. He marveled at the vibration of the floor for a moment before he began rooting through Ginny's kitchen cupboards. He hadn't eaten since the day before.

~***~

Without much purpose or direction Ginny wandered through the streets. She had a vague idea of where she was going, but it hadn't occurred to her to walk down the right avenue yet. Aimless meandering rarely got anyone where they wanted to go, so she made several rights and ended up in front of a Muggle club, an all night ravers' paradise called Death Spiral. The windows had been blacked out so no one could see inside, and Ginny paused to ponder her reflection in the inky glass for a moment. The problem was her outfit, which was perfect for a job interview, but would look stupid in a club. Thoughtfully she touched her fingers to the hem of her skirt, which ended just below her knees. Suddenly it occurred to her that she really couldn't care less what the party-going crowd thought of her. It wasn't like she would ever go there again.

Satisfied, she pushed open the door and was immediately taken aback by the sight she was greeted with. Strobe lights of many colors played across the walls, illuminating each person in red, blue, pink and yellow by turns. It was beautiful, cheapened only by the (most likely high) people the lights streamed across.

Dazedly she walked over to the bar in a corner and ordered a melon margarita from a girl Ginny presumed was called 'Morgana' judging by her nametag.

"Sure, hon!" bubbled the girl, snapping a large wad of gum loudly and turning away to the rows of alcohol behind her. It took her barely a minute to throw together the drink, and she plopped it down in front of Ginny without ceremony. "Three ninety-five, doll."

Ginny paid her, which Morgana seemed to take as a rarity and an invitation to chat. She leaned across the bar to whisper to Ginny, her cheaply dyed orange hair trailing on the polished surface of the bar. "That bloke's been watching you since you walked in here," she said, eyeing a man somewhere over Ginny's right shoulder. Ginny followed her gaze to find a man with his eyes trained on hers. She turned back to Morgana with a puzzled look on her face.

"So?" she asked, trying not to be blinded by the pinkness of Morgana's outfit. Mentally she was flipping through the files on her case, trying to fit the man into a slot occupied by 'Death Eater' in bold letters.

"So! He's cute! Go talk to him."

"But the odds are he's trying to ki..." She stopped, recalling that very few except select Ministry members knew she was here. He probably only wanted a quick dance. The odds weren't in favor of his being a hit man. "...kiss me," she finished lamely, knowing Morgana was looking at her as though she'd grown a few extra heads.

"Honey, you're a strange one." That said, she walked off to serve a group of rowdier customers. A few moments passed and Ginny looked behind her again. The man, whoever he was, had gone.

"Fancy some company?" asked a deep voice beside her. The only sign of Ginny's inner panic was a faint twitch of her hand. She held said hand over her heart, and breathed deeply to clear the lump from her throat.

"You frightened me," she said in a small voice, and then frowned at herself. She was supposed to be an empowered woman, and at it took was this man to scare her nearly out of her wits? He chuckled softly and Ginny found herself hating the sound.

"Can I buy you a drink?" Roughly Ginny pushed away from the bar, knocking over the stool she'd been sitting on. Not one person in the entire club so much as blinked at this disturbance. Ginny vaguely wondered what sort of Muggle drug they were on as she faded into the crowd, throwing a few words back at the darkly handsome man.

"I've had one, thanks." She shoved her way through the throng of people, moving some of them a good foot away from their original place on the dance floor. Rude phrases came at her from all sides, but she kept going, propelled by a bad feeling about this entire situation and a single thought that echoed off the confines of her mind.

I don't have my wand.

When she hit the street Ginny broke into a run. She was grateful for wearing her flats if she could not have sneakers, but they made a swift clicking noise that was unmistakable. The clicking seemed to grow as loud as a car horn in her ears, all other sounds were surpassed by the sheer strength behind her own footsteps. Fear filled her then, and she could barely breathe for fright of the sound. All the same, she kept running.

It was seconds before she heard the heavy thud of a man's boots behind her. To her it seemed hours and hours, waiting with bated breath and hoping beyond hope she'd strike it lucky.

Ginny had never had much luck.

Chancing a glance over her shoulder, she saw a shock of black hair falling over shaded eyes. It was, as she had known it would be, the man from the club. She forced her legs to move faster, harder, until they burned with the effort. She couldn't have stopped then if she'd wanted to, her legs were moving too fast. An object set in motion is likely to stay in motion. Even so, Ginny sensed him gaining on her. It seemed such a waste, she was barely two blocks from home, and in thirty seconds he would reach out and drag her down to do Merlin knows what with her.

She let out a high pitched, bloodcurdling scream, the like of which might never have been heard by man except that Ginny Weasley was afraid. Nothing happened. He gained still. Again she screamed, but this time the sharp note also carried a name.

"MALFOY!" Ginny had no idea whether or not he could hear her, to herself she was merely whispering, and she cursed her lungs for their size. Possibly she didn't know that everyone within a five-block radius could hear her, because if she had, she would have ceased to be afraid. For Ginny believed in the common decency of even the lowest member of the human race, and in her heart she believed someone would save her. "MALFOY!"