Deeper Than Blood

I´m going in,

One, two three and four

Like a Kamikaze

Like Geronimo

A leap of faith

And I finally feel alive

• Kamikaze, Five Iron Frenzy

Pushing for Faith

Chapter Four

Falling.

With a thump that rattled the dishes and pretty china stacked up high all about, Ginny landed on her own dining room table, thoroughly winded. How she had fallen through the kitchen ceiling, and why, had yet to be answered in her own mind, but there she was. Slowly, she lifted herself up onto her hands and knees, noticing that she was in her school uniform as she did so. So she was somehow at home--in her school uniform--on the table. She groaned silently as she looked about.

She was not alone at the table, either. Assembled around the table was her family, not perplexed in the least to see her crouched there among the breakfast dishes. In fact, Molly even looked up at her daughter and asked, "Ginny, would you mind sitting in your regular seat? It´s rude to have your feet on the table."

"What--oh, yes." Feeling like an errant child, Ginny picked her way through the dishes full of kippers and eggs and bacon, crawling over steaming mugs of coffee to reach her seat. All of the Weasley children had seats to keep them from bickering over who sat where. Ginny´s seat was in between Ron´s seat and Charlie´s seat, nearer her mother than her father. Charlie was sitting on her left, but Ron was not in his seat at all. Looking across the blank expanse, she could see Percy, right next to their father.

It was then that she got her first proper look at the family members placed around the worn table. Molly looked unchanged since the last time Ginny had seen her, vibrant in her old black robes. Her frizzy hair was pulled back into a bun, and she was browsing through some magazine or other, listening to the conversation Bill and Percy were having with one ear. "Bill!" Ginny cried suddenly, thoroughly surprised and pleased to see her oldest--and favorite--brother. "When did you get here?"

"What do you mean, Ginny?" Bill looked up and Ginny drew in a sharp breath, realizing for the first time that he had changed quite a bit. He had lost a considerable amount of weight, so that his face seemed a lot sharper. The fang earring that she had always adored was gone; his hair was chopped short. His clothing, which used to be so

cool, was now simple robes of black not unlike Arthur´s. There was a scar above his left eyebrow that Ginny did not remember, and a look of confusion on his face that Ginny was not used to. Bill was supposed to know everything. "I´ve been here the whole time, Gin."

"Oh--oh, right." Ginny nodded and shifted her gaze to Percy, to see how much he had changed. Maybe all of her brothers had taken the time to grow up while she and Ron were at Hogwarts. And where was Ron, anyway?

Percy had not changed as much as Bill had, but there were differences. He looked a lot less uptight, for one. Tired lines had carved themselves into his youthful face, marring the laughter lines that Ginny knew had always been there. Percy may have seemed like a stuck-up prig at times, but Ginny had always liked him. His robes were a bit nicer than Bill´s or Molly´s, but a little more worn. The robes were nothing like the polo shirts and jeans that the twins were sporting. They still looked identical, but Ginny could see that time had finally set in on their boyish faces. Like Bill and Percy, they had both lost weight--none of Molly´s delicious cooking, perhaps? Ginny wondered.

Her family seemed to be talking about something rather avidly, but Ginny could not figure out what they were saying for the life of her. "Where´s Ron?" Ginny asked, filling her plate up with eggs and sausage.

The conversation did not falter, but Percy did glance over at Ginny. His gaze lingered on Ron´s seat for awhile before returning to his coffee, lost to his own world of thought. Ginny furrowed her brow at this. Why was everybody acting like Ron did not exist? And why did they all appear older?

Her questions were never answered, for it was right then that Ginny awoke on her last day of her fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

*

"Ginny! Wait up!"

Colin Creevey pushed his trunk ahead of him, moving as fast as his legs would allow with the levitating trunk in front of him and students packed all about. Even though he had grown to a height that was almost awkward, Colin was still used to being short and thin, and thus easily able to slip through crowds. Ginny turned in time to see Colin accidentally plow through a crowd of Slytherin third-years, most of which shouted obscenities after the hurrying Gryffindor. Colin was not fazed; he even tossed a devilish grin over his shoulder at them and hurried on. "Gin!" he cried, and upon reaching her, swung her around in a big bear hug. "How´s my favorite surrogate sister doing?"

Ginny laughed as Colin set her down, positively grinning. Colin´s recent enthusiasm was certainly very infectious; one could not help but smile whenever the eldest Creevey was around. Ginny half-suspected that he was putting it on for both her and Dennis. The younger Creevey, after all, had been looking severely depressed at having to return to a safe house for the holidays. "Would you believe that you only saw me an hour ago at breakfast, Colin?" she asked, shaking her head so that the red waves flopped all about her face.

"Yup!" Colin pushed his trunk forward again, careful not to ram into a group of teary-eyed Hufflepuffs. "Dennis and I are really excited about coming to visit you and Ron at the Burrow for the last week of the holidays. Dennis was talking about it just this morning. Speaking of Dennis..." He turned slightly, scanning the crowd for his much-shorter younger brother. "There he is! C´mon!"

Dennis, while still a photocopied version of what Colin had been two years before, was nearly as tall as his brother now, something that nobody had foreseen. He had left Hogwarts after his second year, four feet tall, eighty pounds, and with a boyish soprano. He had returned a foot taller, thirty pounds heavier, and with a deeper voice--and a clumsiness that beat all Ginny had ever seen. Like Colin, his hair was starting to darken and his eyes were slowly turning the color of Honeyduke´s chocolate. Unlike Colin, he had not learned the wit of silence yet.

"Hullo, Ginny!" Dennis cried, reaching down to hug her. It felt strange knowing that Dennis was two years younger than her, but still had to stoop to give her a hug. What was it with Hogwarts boys and growing so terribly tall? Ginny had not reached anywhere near the height of even her shortest brother, but she was by no means short. "I´ve saved us a compartment, but it´s kind of near the back--where the Slytherins sit." He wrung his hands nervously about this.

"That´s all right, we´ll just beat the stuffing out of them!" Emma Rogers, Dennis´s daredevil friend, chimed in, looking eager to do just that.

Colin sighed as his maneuvered his trunk onto the train. "As much as we dislike them at times, no beating up the Slytherins," he called over his shoulder. Emma snapped her fingers and jerked her head at Dennis and Ginny, signaling them to get on the train. It was difficult maneuvering such a large, tattered trunk (it had been Charlie´s before it became hers, and it had been Molly´s old trunk from school, as well), but Ginny had been doing so with and without magic for five years. She moved in and out of groups of students, saying "Excuse me, excuse me," more times than she wished to (honestly, why couldn´t she have been sorted into Slytherin and be given the right-of-way to be downright rude?).

The compartment Dennis had picked was practically the last compartment--and right next to the Trio´s normal compartment. Dennis, not noticing the stricken looks on the faces of Colin and Ginny, bounced up beside them and chirped, "And it´s right by Harry Potter´s compartment! Isn´t that great?"

"Yeah...great..." Colin levitated first his, then Dennis´s trunk onto the luggage rack, studiously avoiding Ginny´s eyes. Ginny studied him, trying to figure out why he would be so uptight about this, but Colin still did not meet her eyes as he took the trunk from her and levitated that onto the luggage rack as well. "Den? Emma? Can you head up to the front and pick up some drinks?" He passed a few Sickles and four Knuts to Dennis, and the two fourth-years to be scampered off. "Sorry. His heart´s in the right place, I s´pose."

Ginny´s eyes widened as the older Creevey winced. "So what do you have against our wonderful Harry Potter?" she asked, drawing a green ribbon out of her wand to put her hair up for the long ride. She stuck the wand between her teeth to hold it there while she fixed her hair and sat down.

"Nothing, really." Colin paused and chewed his lip as he pocketed his wand. "Harry´s a great guy, I´m sure." He looked up, slightly puzzled, when Ginny let out the softest of snorts. "Well, anyway, I just hate feeling like the insignificant pest, you know?" From somewhere, he withdrew a simple rubber ball and threw that at the wall opposite. The ball was like Colin´s camera: it never seemed to leave his presence. It bounced back into his hands as though it belonged there. "That´s all I ever was from the beginning. I used to think as Harry as some all-powerful--I don´t know what to call it...superior being?--because he came from a place like me and he came out on top."

Thunk.

The ball hit the wall above Ginny´s head and came back same as before. "It´s a heartbreaking thing to realize that your idol has clay feet, you know that? That´s exactly what Harry was--my idol. I adored him because he was small like me, but he was so huge, he stood up to creeps like Snape and Malfoy and even Voldemort." Thunk. Thunk. "I´m sure he´s a great guy, but I´m never going to be anything but the pest to him."

Now that her hair was back in a successful red plait, Ginny pulled her wand from between her teeth and rubbed it off, producing white gold sparks. "I´ve been the pest my entire life, Colin. I know how you feel." The only one who hadn´t considered her a pest for the longest time was Ron, but even that had changed when Hogwarts arrived for him. Feeling insignificant was something Ginny was good at, it seemed. In the family photos, she was always cooed over and pointed at because she was the only girl. People cooed over Bill because of his grades, Charlie because of his athletic ability, Percy because of his responsibility, the twins because of their mischievous pranks, and Ron because he had managed to survive so much. Ginny was merely a girl; it did not matter that she was top of her year, or that she a natural aptitude for advanced magic. And to her brothers and everybody they knew, she was nothing but a helpless pest. A chatterbox (which she wasn´t anymore) and a pest.

Colin let out a world-weary sigh and shifted so that his elbows were on the tops of his knees. "Everything you do when you´re young just never leaves you alone," he observed glumly. "I haven´t done my Harry-worship routine since maybe halfway through third year--and that´s pushing it--and Ron still treats me like I drool on the ground Harry walks on. So maybe I´ve said hi to the guy a few times since then, but so does everybody." He shrugged, looking more tired than Ginny had ever seen him. "And now that Dumbledore is trying to make me a spy amongst the students, this could be a real problem."

"You, a spy?" Three words could not serve to convey the astonishment evident on Ginny´s face.

The smallest curl of a mischievous grin pulled at Colin´s mouth. "Draco Malfoy didn´t recognize me when I went into the Slytherin dungeons last night, did he?" At Ginny´s open-mouthed surprise, he grinned devilishly. "Yes, Colin Creevey, Professor Dumbledore´s own spy. That´s Creevey...Colin Creevey." He then struck a pose, holding some sort of invisible object with one hand cupped under the other by his head. Ginny blinked, shocked and now puzzled. "Sorry," Colin apologized, reddening. "Muggle thing."

"You never struck me as the James Bond type, Creepy," a new voice joined from the door. Both Ginny and Colin jumped at this and turned to see Draco learning against the doorframe. While the two in the compartment had been talking, Draco had obviously slid the door open and had watched them. How long he had been standing there, Ginny was not sure, nor did she really care. Colin, however, turned a lovely shade of maroon and clenched his fists threateningly.

"What did you hear?" the younger boy demanded, his voice tight. Draco just swiveled his head to look at Colin, eyes carefully masked. "I´m not kidding, Malfoy, what did you hear?"

Ginny´s eyes were glued to Draco´s clothing, which was certainly strange for Draco at least. He had surpassed his regular, neatly pressed school robes in favor of, above all things, a pair of Muggle jeans and a black cashmere sweater. While Ginny had seen Draco in jeans once before at night, she had never seen him wear them in public. And the black sweater certainly fit him better than any of his robes did... "Draco, how much did you hear?" she asked quietly, tearing her eyes from his clothing.

Draco shrugged. "That is of little consequence. Perhaps it would intrigue you to know that I intend to give up every aspect of the Malfoy estate and change my name to Richard Thalmus, destined for the Americas this summer in hopes of gaining inner fulfillment?" There was not even a ghost of a smile on his face as he delivered this, and the seriousness in his voice belied his expressionless mask.

Ginny and Colin gaped at him.

"Okay, so maybe not." Draco moved to sit down beside Colin, offering the younger boy his hand as he did so. For a long moment, Colin stared at the proffered hand in open puzzlement before giving it a hesitant shake. "Right, then." He pulled his wand out of his pocket and waved that at his clothing, transfiguring them effortlessly into a much nicer set of slacks and a button-up black shirt. For Ginny, the fact that she was an almost sixteen-year-old girl did not seem interested in helping to stop the flush that crept to her cheeks as she stared at him. Quickly, so that he was not notice her blush, she glanced away, towards the window. "Well, I can´t stay long," Draco said without noticing Ginny´s discomfort, "because I promised my mates in Slytherin that we´d play poker, seeing as I won´t see most of them properly until the first of September."

Despite the overly cheerful note in his voice, Draco´s voice darkened considerably on the word "properly." Ginny turned her head to watch him out of the corner of her eye as he turned towards Colin. "I didn´t hear much, by the way," he told Colin, in an off-hand voice that was meant to reassure the younger boy. "And I promise you can hang me by my intestines if word of what I did hear ever gets out."

"Th-thanks," Colin stammered, caught off guard by such a promise.

"You know, you look different in proper daylight. Less sinister, although that could be deemed as a case of the pot calling the kettle black." Colin had not stopped gaping, obviously unsure of what to make of the loquacious side of Draco Malfoy. "With that said, I think there was a girl up the train--Hayley? Hannah?--asking about you." Draco jerked a thumb towards the door; Colin needed no further prompting. Ginny blinked, wondering if he had left a puff of smoke from leaving the compartment so fast. "Oh, what a coincidence. He left, and now we´re alone. Together. My, my, what would your brother think?"

*

Draco was not sure why he had transfigured his clothing into Muggle clothing, nor was he sure why he had waited on the threshold of the compartment for so long before making his presence known. Even Malfoys knew that it was impolite to eavesdrop, but he had been utterly fascinated at such a simple exchange. Colin Creevey and Ginny Weasley were very popularly known as friends (most of the school rumored them to be together), and Draco could see many characteristics in such a conversation that no Slytherin would dare to show between them. Only when Creevey had made a joke that he recognized as a Muggle joke, despite his upbringing, had Draco remembered himself and intervened politely.

Now that she was left alone with him, Ginny sent him a mock-scowl, which he parried with an insincerely hurt look. "You know," she suggested, leaning forward and dropping her voice as though she were sharing some great secret, "that´s not funny until I imagine you with a black eye. I hear Ron was popular for giving you one of those in your first year." She winked and leaned back, indulging herself as he dramatically threw one hand over his heart and the other over his eye.

"Ginny Weasley, you wound me deeply," Draco cried in fake agony. Before the flirting match could go on, however, he sobered up and fixed Ginny with two pale moonstone eyes. "I´ve been under the impression that you´ve been meaning to talk to me?"

Perhaps she was a bit startled at the turnabout change he had just made, for she did not answer immediately. In fact, Draco had to poke her in the knee to elicit any response at all. "You´ve been under the impression? I wasn´t sure you were--after all, who was it that practically raced out of the Great Hall last night after knocking himself up on Anti-Sobering Potion and scaring the wits out of me yesterday? Did you know that I had to go to Professor Snape, I was so worried about you?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, but apparently the youngest Weasley wasn´t done yet. "I don´t know what you´re trying to pull, Mr. Malfoy, but I hope that if you understand one thing, it is that we are friends. I don´t know what kind of friends you´ve had before, but there´s no need to be afraid of what I think or I know about you. Things may be different in the Slytherin house. I don´t care. This is us, this is not your cronies, this is your not your coddled playmates that you´ve been around since you were two. I am Ginny Weasley, and you are Draco Malfoy. Trying to kill yourself does nothing for either of us!" Finally done, her shoulders heaved once and she leaned back, fixing Draco with a look that even a Gryffindor would have trouble holding.

"Are you quite finished?" Draco finally asked, trying very hard not to appear like a fish out of the water with his mouth flapping open. He failed quite miserably, but did not seem too perturbed. Either he was by now used to being startled by Gryffindors, or he was much better than Ginny expected at masking all emotion.

"Um..." Ginny flushed at the intensity her voice had gained. "Maybe." She hadn´t meant to get that worked up!

Any relations Draco had shared to a dehydrated fish disappeared as he fixed on a neutral smirk. "Well, good," he told Ginny. The smirk faded to a mere ghost on his face as he continued to stare in that unnerving way he had. "It would be a waste of both our times to tell you exactly which person in my life affixed me with the lovely scars you glimpsed yesterday." Ginny made a noise of agreement in the back of her throat. "Why he did it, I am not sure."

"Men like Lucius Malfoy don´t need motivation to inflict cruelty," Ginny remarked caustically, slumping back into her seat as though Draco´s admission had taken her energy.

Instead of agreeing, Draco cocked his head as though listening to some celestial voice that Ginny could not hear. "No, you´re wrong about that," he told her, frowning. "Men like my father need every sort of motivation to elicit such a behavior. As to the basis of this motivation, I haven´t done enough research to discover. Sometimes it can be something so simple as personal gain, but I fear there is more behind this." He held up a hand to stop any argument from Ginny. "My father is not a man to be crossed. I have told Professors Snape and Dumbledore the very same thing."

Ginny´s eyes flashed lividly. "Snape and Headmaster Dumbledore know, and they have done nothing to put a stop to this?"

There really was such a thing as the famed Weasley temper, Draco saw now, even if he only saw the fringes of it forming. Ginny´s cheeks were becoming quite flushed, and while this seemed to almost make her crackle with energy, it also made Draco appreciate the beauty of raw danger. None of the other Death Eaters looked this poised or quite formidable when angry. Draco would later begin to think of that flush as a last warning, the only sign that something was going to boil over like the sauce in the pot whenever his mother attempted to cook.

"Professor Snape in particular finds himself in a difficult position to come to in my case. Do not let that sway your judgment of him--believe me when I say that he is doing what he can." Carefully, to show that he was telling the plenary truth, he leaned forward and tucked a wayward strand of red out of Ginny´s eyes, effectively drawing her gaze to his. "My father is a terrible man, Ginny, but it would not do any good to worry about me. He never touched me until last summer. I have reason to believe he will not lay a finger on me this summer."

"But he will force you to become a Death Eater," Ginny said bitterly. She reached up to her ear and took Draco´s one hand in both her own. Even that simple of a touch startled him, but he hid his wince. Ginny´s eyes searched him, seeing more than they should have seen. "I can tell that you don´t want to."

Inwardly, Draco sighed and wished that Ginny were just like the rest of the girls in his year. This way, she would be friendly and flirtatious, never having to deal with troubles with the ones like he and Potter both carried. It really wasn´t fair that Ginny be dragged into this mess because he had saved her life after he had nearly killed her. But even if she had stayed loyal to Potter, there would be difficulties to deal with. "Yes. It has always been his wish that I become a Death Eater. However, even if he never touched me, I would have no choice but to join the Lord Voldemort´s ranks. I am bound by a contract, a spell performed on me on my first birthday. If I were not to take the Dark Mark on my next birthday, it would mean an unimaginably painful death for me." Here was the part that he had spent contemplating all night, the part that he did not want to give. "That is why I think we should end this friendship."

Instead of an expression of dismay or anger, Ginny gave a bitter laugh that nobody so young should have known how to give. "So that´s it, then?" she asked, her voice distant. "Off to join the ranks of Voldemort--" She had said it again, without any inflection of suffering or fear in her voice "--Just like another minion?"

"Ginny, it´s not--"

"You know, I could understand when Harry did this to me." Again, the empty laugh that chilled him down to the very base of his spine came, and Draco hid a shiver. "Nobody ever knew--we were supposed to be this great couple, and I could tell he wanted it, but he pushed me away to join the Order of the Phoenix. I joined to be with him, you know? To give him a normal life." As much as Draco did not want to hear about anything having to do with Potter, he found himself attracted to her words--almost like a moth to a flame. "By that time, he said it was too late between us. I was too much like a sister by then, but he knew absolutely nothing about me. He was doing this to protect me, he said, and that it was better this way."

"Look--"

"No!" Ginny threw up both of her hands, releasing Draco´s to do so. "No! You look! You´re going to say that I don´t understand and that it´s better for me! Well, you know what? I understand. People seem to think that I haven´t seen evil! I´m not a little girl to be cosseted like a doll and then pushed away when danger comes." She looked at him, brown eyes wide and swirling with a mix of emotions that he could not ignore. He could see himself in those eyes, a dispassionate mask thrown against stormy barriers. It was a frightening face. "Draco--I don´t know why we´re even friends, but I know that something is pulling us together. Something deeper. You´re one of my closest friends, and I´m not going to let you throw that away because you´re afraid. You´re making a mistake." Now the eyes were pleading and ripping at him.

His face did not change. "Then perhaps you should think again before you befriend a monster."

There was only enough time to register pure fury in Ginny´s eyes before her hand connected solidly with his cheek, eliciting a loud SLAP! Draco recoiled instinctively, his hand flying to his cheek.

"You are not a monster, Draco Lucifer Malfoy!" How she had come to figure out his middle name, Draco did not know; neither did he care, for his cheek burned more fiercely than anything he could dream. He stared at her in complete and expurgated shock.

He could definitely understand why books certainly described angry women as the most beautiful of them all. Ginny´s eyes were great canyons of brown right now, fueled by an outraged fire. Added to that, the flush rising from her neck only made her appear younger, yet sharper at the same time. This woman was a fascinating python when she was angry. This was a cold, fascinating beauty that nonetheless entranced him.

"Well, then, I guess I cannot repeat Potter´s mistake," Draco finally said, realizing that it was up to him to break the silence. "But I cannot avoid the horrors this summer will bring. Affiliating yourself with me is not wise."

"I do not back down from the side of a friend," Ginny said staunchly. She leaned back again, her shoulders slumping dispiritedly. "I wish circumstances could be different."

"As do I!" Draco agreed vehemently. He paused and scrutinized her face intently; her lower lip was quivering, which meant that she was close to breaking down. "We certainly do not ask for our destinies, but I definitely do wish our circumstances could be otherwise. Maybe..." He shook his head, stopping that thought before it could grow its poisonous little roots in his head. "There is no use dwelling on such a thing. Will you be okay attending St. Lawrence´s Summer Academy by yourself? I mean, you and the others. My father has requested that I not attend."

Ginny did not voice her thoughts and instead wiped at her eyes, nodding as she did so. As though ashamed at her earlier actions, she had bowed her head and refused to meet his eye.

"You didn´t get any sleep last night," Draco remarked, finally noticing the bruised circles that had embedded themselves below her eyes. The flush had left her face and in its wake a severe paleness had settled in, worrying him. Feeling very awkward, Draco moved to the other bench so that he was sitting directly beside her. Even though the closeness unnerved him, he wrapped his arms around her. Ginny was probably used to this sort of attention, with six older brothers, but Draco Malfoy definitely was not. He preferred to remain as a stone pillar, touching no one and being touched by no one. When Ginny wrapped her own arms around his ribs and buried her face into his shoulder, it took his entire being not to gasp from the surprise.

Ginny, he found, was neither a loud, nor a dramatic crier. She wept into his shoulder then, the quiet sobs doing little more than shaking her shoulders in the slightest quiver. Draco let her cry herself out. How long they sat there like that, he did not know. He was only content to let the tears flow to an end. Perhaps they were tears of grief over the lost relationship with Harry, never cried about before. He knew that there probably tears for him, angry tears at the injustice served him, possibly mingled in with the sad tears that their circumstances were so difficult.

When her arms grew slack about him, he knew that she had cried herself to sleep. Working around her, he retrieved parchment and a quill from her bag, no easy task. It took considerable time to pen an adequate note and farewell with her warm presence nearly burrowed into his side, but he managed and tucked that under into her bag when he was done. Carefully, he pried himself out of her grasp and conjured up a blanket to keep any summer chills from getting to her. After placing a pillow under her head, the red hair bedraggled from being pushed into his shoulder, he switched to the other seat and merely watched her sleep. She was turned away from him, so that he couldn´t see her face very well. That did not matter to him.

How could somebody he barely knew have so much conviction in his life?

Frowning to himself, Draco trailed a finger along her cheek before turning and leaving the compartment, off to play poker with the people he was supposed to call friends.

*

A black stretch limousine, quite an expensive ride, pulled up a long, curving driveway leading to a castle. Sixteen-year-old Draco Malfoy perched alone on the edge of the seat in the back, trying very hard not to appear nervous as the car took the winding twists and turns with ease. He had not changed out of the nice black slacks and button-up black shirt he had been wearing on the train, but his robes had changed from the typical school robes to a much nicer set of specially tailored robes. He had also found time to gel his hair back. In all, he looked presentable. "Will we be there soon, Winston?" he called to the driver.

"Of course, Master Malfoy," came the cordial reply. "Our destination is almost within sight."

Contented with that answer, Draco forced himself to lean back and not to think of the reunion that would be coming shortly. His mother would undoubtedly meet him at the door to the Malfoy´s expressive manor, lavishing him with motherly hugs and affection and apologizing profoundly that she had not been at the train station to pick him up. Draco would then find himself in the attentions of his father, who would find some sort of negative comment about his son´s appearance before releasing him to tea with his mother. Draco would retire into bed some hours later, thoroughly exhausted from playing the charade.

And then summer would begin.

Two servants were waiting to take Draco´s luggage out of the limousine´s trunk when the impressive car pulled up. Draco nodded at both of them, allowing a small smile that he was sure caught them off-guard. Neither remarked on it, however, as they followed him up to the formidable entrance to the manor. Draco was rather fond of the Malfoys´ manor, what with its gloomy prestige and angular appearance. It came directly from many of the horror stories Draco had been told as a child, a gloomy old palace set up on a cliff overlooking an oblivious village. Whenever lightning storms hit, they only seemed to magnify the manor´s splendor in Draco´s opinion.

The ugly gargoyle knocker stared Draco down as he gathered his courage and reached for the doorknob. Doomed to his fate, he opened the door and found...

Nothing.

The entrance hall was deserted of a blonde, voluptuous Narcissa eagerly awaiting the return of her only child from the grasp of his education. Draco looked around at the circular hall in bewilderment, eyes drinking in the normal sights of several of his ancestors´ paintings placed about the hall. The stone floor had been polished recently, obviously in expectancy of his arrival of his homecoming, and two house elves bustled about, sweeping the room beyond. But there was no Narcissa and definitely no Lucius, as there had always been in the past.

"Winston?" Draco looked to his driver in confusion. "Where are my parents?"

"Ah, young Master Draco! I did not hear you enter!" Raymond, the Malfoys´ butler, bustled into the room, smiling in his own way at the young Malfoy heir. "Your parents wish to pass on their regrets that they could not be home for such a momentous occasion..."

"Voldemort´s summons again?" Draco interrupted, arching an eyebrow at the butler.

Raymond smirked quite uncharacteristically. He could get away with so much more when Master Draco was present than he could when Master Lucius was in the room. "What else, sir? Come, you are to take afternoon tea with me while the servants put away your things. Thank you, Winston, go feel free to park the car." He clapped his hands twice and the servants all scurried off to do the butler´s bidding. "I have much to fill you in about, young Draco. Come, give your old butler a hug." Raymond was not much older than his father, but he loved to joke about his old age. Dutifully, Draco hugged him and received a customary pounding on the back.

"I hope you don´t have too much to fill me in on." Draco smirked, trying to fit into his old role and finding it incredibly easy. "I still have a spot of Quidditch to play, and growing boys need their rest, or so I´m told."

At this, Raymond nearly beamed. "Your father has informed us all of your talents in Quidditch. Jessie and I are most fond of your efforts--Mr. Flint sent us photographs and Jessie has one framed in the kitchen. When we were at Hogwarts, the Slytherin team did not see such great captaincy. And is somebody watching out for you at Hogwarts, Master Draco? You make it sound like that." Draco inclined his head, showing his gratitude as gracefully as he could without flushing. Raymond and Jessie Daleford had been serving the Malfoys since Draco was a small boy, Raymond as a butler and Jessie as a cook. The couple was quite possibly Draco´s second family. "And I have to ask, then. Has Master Draco found himself a nice girl yet?"

A smirk twisted Draco´s lips as he was led into the parlor. "Perhaps I have. Only time will tell." He thought briefly of the time spent with Ginny on the train, but declined to tell the butler about her. What he and Ginny shared dug a bit too deep to go throwing it away on assumptions. "I fear that it might not be prudent to disclaim her identity--even the walls have ears here, Raymond."

The aging butler nodded and sighed as house elves entered the room, carrying a tea tray. "Thank you, Jinks and Dinkly." As Raymond took the tray from the two, the house elves bowed themselves out of the room and disappeared with bursts of gold magic. Instants later, Raymond´s wife Jessie entered, smiling in her own way at the two men enjoying tea. "Ah! There you are! Come, we were just about to have tea!"

"Not until I get my hug," Jessie told him, smiling. She was a beautiful witch, but not in the same way his mother was beautiful. Her dark hair was shiny, although streaked heavily with intermingled gray and white, and her looks were even, but there was a glowing light within that made her positively stunning. Raymond always wondered aloud how a poor sod like himself could attain such a beautiful woman. "C´mere, you." Obediently, Draco stood and hugged her, receiving his customary kiss on the cheek as she did so. "My!" Jessie exclaimed, holding Draco at arm´s length so that she could get a proper look at him. "You´re taller than your father by now! When will you ever stop growing?"

If Draco found it disconcerting that he had to duck his head at an odd angle to look at her, he did not say. "When I´m done, I suppose," he said, smiling back. "How have the two of you been holding up?" As he said this, he sat down and reached for the tea Raymond had poured him.

"Oh, beautifully." Jessie waved one hand absently to tell Draco not to bother about them and poured sugar into her tea. "The garden certainly looks lovely at this time of year--perhaps the two of you will join me on a tour later?"

"And then perhaps we can watch Master Draco play his spot of Quidditch." Raymond grinned conspiratorially at his young charge. "Jessie always frets so whenever you get on that newfangled broomstick of yours." Jessie playfully hit him in the arm. "Oh, by the way, your father informed us of your studies. Perfect scores, the whole sweep of them!" Raymond whistled lowly. "You are turning out to be more brilliant than even your father was!"

Unlike the other people in his life, Raymond´s compliments were meant to inspire, not flatter Draco. The young Malfoy heir found himself grinning as he had done when he was a young child. "Thank you," he managed to say before taking a long drink of tea. "I threw myself into my studies in hopes to impress Father. I hope it worked."

"One can only hope," Jessie reminded him, and before the conversation could continue into a dark vein, started telling him about how one of the gardeners had had her baby, a healthy boy named Lionel. "And who knows?" she inquired innocently when she was done, "Lionel may attend Hogwarts with your own children. Wouldn´t that be exciting?"

Like any other normal sixteen-year-old boy, Draco winced. "Already talking about children, are we?" he asked.

"Master Draco has met somebody," Raymond told his wife, positively smirking. "He can´t tell me who, though."

Jessie turned an appraising gaze upon her young ward. "Has he now?" she asked her husband, her lips quirked up in a smile. Draco squirmed under the knowing stare and hated himself for it; Jessie was quite possibly the only person that could make him squirm like that. "What is she like, and who is she, for that matter?"

"Spirited." Draco shrugged and seemed willing to offer no more, but Jessie quickly needled him until he gave in. "All right. Her name´s Ginny, is that enough for you?"

"Of course not, dear. What does she look like?" Raymond looked about to say something, but Jessie waved him off and instead fixed her attention on Draco.

Knowing his fate, Draco told them what he knew about Ginny, leaving out their initial meeting and her last name. When he mentioned the unusual color of her hair, Jessie let out a happy sigh. "Your mother once had red hair," she told Draco, beaming happily.

"Just because Ginny has red hair..." Draco began with the full indignation of any proper sixteen-year-old dragged into such an awkward topic.

Raymond threw his head back and laughed. "Dear, stop needling Master Draco."

*

As a rule, as many of Ginny´s older brothers who could came home for a dinner feast the night that the students who had been at Hogwarts returned home. This year, she was pleased to see that even Percy had cleared time out of his busy work schedule to attend the family meeting. With Bill and Charlie constantly in London, it had been no trouble for either of them to drop in, and the twins had even given up on Order of the Phoenix business long enough for a spot of dinner with the entire family. It was nine loud Weasleys and somewhat reserved Hermione Granger that crowded around the table that night, intent on enjoying the full benefit of another one of Molly´s delicious feasts.

Ginny was secretly delighted that Hermione was staying at the Burrow for the first few days before she left to study with Professor Lupin. She loved being home, but Molly was always busy and none of the boys understood the woes of a teenage girl. Hermione had apologized for the way she had been acting, and they were good friends once again. The older girl had been ecstatic that she had been invited to spend the summer with Remus Lupin (and Sirius Black). Ginny knew that Hermione was really doing Order of Phoenix business; her whole family knew, but they were all playing along with the charade.

"Pass the beans, will you, squirt?" Bill asked Ron now, grinning cheekily at his youngest brother. Ron was the tallest Weasley by an inch, surpassing even Percy in height. This, of course, led all of his wonderful older brothers to tease him ruthlessly.

Ron, grumbling, handed the bowl of beans over.

Ginny sat in between Fred and George, a dangerous position at the best of times. She did not mind tonight, however, for their jokes were always rather funny and usually made at Percy´s expense. Even though they did slip her a pastry that turned her hair the most interesting shade of green for a brief moment, Ginny shrugged that off with the excuse that she barely ever got to see any of her brothers except Ron. She was not quite on speaking terms with Ron yet, still waiting for him to apologize about the incident in the Prefect´s Bathroom. Fred and George helped her forget that for awhile.

The conversations were mostly kept congenial; topics ranged from Percy´s growing relationship with Penelope Clearwater to the possibility that the Chudley Cannons could possibly take third in the league. Ginny tuned out the conversation between Ron and Charlie, comparing the Cannon´s aspects of winning with those of the Surrey Sand-Dragons. Secretly, she just thought that Charlie wanted the Sand-Dragons to win only because they had the word "dragons" in their name. It had been rough for Charlie to leave his position in Romania for a brief time to aid in the cause of the Order of Phoenix, Ginny knew.

"How many O.W.L.S. do you think you received, Ginny?" Percy asked after he had swallowed a hearty bite of Molly´s excellent roast.

Ginny shrugged indifferently. "Enough to pass, I´m sure," she said in her airiest tone. "Professor Dumbledore seems to think I do well enough in school. I´ve been offered a scholarship to attend a summer academy in the states at the beginning of next week."

Conversation stopped. "Why didn´t you tell me about this, Gin?" Ron snapped. He received an admonishing look from his mother and Hermione.

Ginny rolled her eyes. The look that passed between Arthur and Molly at opposite ends of the table did not pass her notice. You were being an arrogant prat, that´s why! she wanted to say to Ron, but held her tongue. Instead, she said, "I wanted it to be a surprise. Can I go, Mum? Daddy?"

Arthur floundered for an answer. "The states are awfully far away, dear," he said as gently as he could.

"A simple trip by Portkey, really, Daddy. The Academy is down in St. Louis, where some of the most fascinating magical developments in the states have been taking place. It´s called St. Lawrence´s Summer Academy for the Magically Competent, and it´s in this really old cathedral. Headmaster Dumbledore told me all about it." Ginny carefully did not mention that she was not the only student that had been offered an opportunity to go. Four Ravenclaws had received extended invitations, as well as Draco, Hermione, and herself.

Indeed, Hermione now jumped to her defense. "It really is a wonderful opportunity, Mr. Weasley," she said, catching Ginny´s eye. "I was offered an invitation, but I turned it down to study with Professor Lupin in Romania for the majority of the summer. St. Lawrence´s offers so many opportunities that Ginny would not receive at Hogwarts, and Professor McGonagall herself informed me that Ginny is quite the adept student. Top of her year, I´m sure." Even though she smiled pleasantly for the Weasleys, her look clearly Ginny that the two of them needed to talk.

"Top of your year?" Molly Weasley asked, her hand flying to her chest. "Ginny, why didn´t you tell us?"

Ginny blushed and looked down at her plate. "The thought just didn´t occur to me, that´s all," she muttered.

"Ginny Weasley, Head Girl." Bill stroked his new goatee thoughtfully. "It does have a certain appeal. Who would have thought? We have two Head Boys, might as well throw a Head Girl in there for variety, eh?"

"I guess," Ginny mumbled. She let the conversation wash over her then, exclamations of disbelief and wonder that the youngest Weasley had grown so much while the others had not been looking. More than anything else, she did not want to divulge exactly why her marks were so much higher than expected. If her parents or brothers truly knew where the extra knowledge was coming from, she was not quite certain they could handle it. After all, she could barely deal with it, and it resided within her own flesh, did it not?

When the feast ended, nobody except Hermione noticed that Ginny slipped up to her bedroom while the others gathered in the living room for quality family time. The bushy-haired girl watched her friend disappear up the stairs and frowned to herself. Ginny had really changed lately, and she appeared to be hiding something. Perhaps Hermione had not been the best of friends to her, but she intended to make that up later. Right now, she let Ron cajole her into a game of chess, knowing that he would win, and laughed at his jokes as he wiped her white knights, bishops, rooks, and pawns quite cleanly from the board and finally took her king. With Ron came comfort, at least.

*

Draco stood in front of the mirror and scowled fiercely at his reflection. When had he gotten so gangly, anyway? He was all sharp, unfriendly angles and he was much taller than Lucius now. At least his shoulders had broadened considerably, giving him a swimmer´s profile with thin hips and wide shoulders. The blond hair that named him as a Malfoy was slicked back properly, and the dark circles had been magicked away by a willing House Elf. He wore black, for he always wore blacks and dark grays, preferring to dress to his sinister side. It was a fetching color on him, even if it made him appear even taller.

Carefully, Draco raised his palms to the glass and stared at the circular line of scars there. Scars inflicted by his own fingernails.

"Master Draco?" Raymond tapped politely on the door before poking his grizzled head in. "Should have known I would find you in front of the mirror. Your mother requests your presence at the dinner table now."

"Thank you. I will be down shortly." Draco lowered his hands and turned away from the mirror, facing a dresser that he used as an impromptu table of sorts. He had not yet had time to organize his things yet, so it took him a minute to find what he was looking for. Holding his prize, he returned to this mirror and fastened the pendant firmly about his neck. It was a simple, short chain with an amulet of a snake´s head dangling from it. It lay as though it belonged there over his robes as Draco checked his appearance in the mirror once again. Finally satisfied, he turned and swept from the room.

His mother and father were seated on opposite ends of the long table they always used for dinner at Malfoy Manor. During lunch and breakfast, Draco was free to get his own food from the kitchens, but dinner was always a formal affair at the manor. When it was only Narcissa and Draco, Draco usually assumed his father´s place at the head of the table, but now he headed for his usual seat in the middle. It was a grand table, set for twenty in all, so there was a lot of cutlery and china in between both Draco and his parents. This was the way he preferred it to be.

"Come give your mother a kiss, dear," Narcissa said, rising as Draco entered the room. Obediently, Draco crossed the room and stooped to kiss his mother on the cheek. He had grown quite a bit taller over the past year, apparently, for now he was taller than both of his parents. Narcissa had Veela blood in her, so she was tall, willowy, and very blond. Both Draco and his father were taller than she was, but not by much. When Draco had left last September, he had been the same height as his mother. Now he almost seemed to tower over her. "Well, you´ve certainly grown to an awkward height." She patted Draco´s shoulder as though he were a small child and dismissed him back to his seat.

Lucius eyed his son as Draco seated himself. "So you´ve returned, then?" he sneered. "Did you learn anything this year, or must I hire another tutor?" As he spoke, the food appeared on the table, very much like Hogwarts.

Draco returned his look. "I don´t know if being top of my year tells if I´ve learned anything or not." His voice was coolly indifferent, iced with an undertow of hatred. Draco would take a dive from the top of the Quidditch stands before admitting that Lucius Malfoy, or the mere thought of him, terrified him so much that he wanted to curl up into a fetal position. Although he wanted no more right now than to run away screaming, he forced himself to give his father a cold look and reached for the plate of crab legs, his personal favorite.

Most sons would receive a smile or even a hug about this news, Draco knew, but he never would. It was with resigned acceptance that he nodded at his mother´s cooing and tried not to flinch as his father berated him for bragging. Draco had long ago learned that there was no pleasing his father.