The Redemption of Draco Malfoy

Chapter 4: Halloween

Draco was too nervous to enjoy the Halloween feast properly. He picked worriedly at his food, knowing that what he did tonight would determine whether or not he could weasel the appropriate information out of Ginny. Tonight he would not try to play the spy. No, tonight was the night to cement her trust in him. He toyed with various approaches in his mind, weighing their merits and disadvantages.

On either side of him, Crabbe and Goyle sat devouring their food with the manners of a pack of jackals. How could he get away from them without arousing their suspicions?

A thought struck him and he forced down a smile. The dessert had been cleared away, and Dumbledore was announcing that dancing would begin soon. Millicent Bulstrode was making her way towards him.

He turned to Crabbe. "Oh no--I promised Father that I would send him an owl about the--" He broke off and clapped a hand over his mouth. "I've got to go, if he doesn't get the message by tomorrow he'll be furious!"

Crabbe and Goyle looked at him dumbfoundedly (as usual) but nodded as if they understood. Draco got up and swept out of the Great Hall. As he opened the door to leave, he heard a familiar voice wailing, "Oh, Harry--I'd love to dance, really I would, but I don't think that chili agreed with me--I think I'm going to have to go see Madam Pomfrey!"

Draco waited at the bottom of the dungeon staircase, knowing that Ginny would be following him soon. Sure enough, in less than a minute she came clattering down, looking about her worriedly.

"Don't worry, I've already checked that nobody's here." Draco laughed inwardly when he saw Ginny jump. He hoped to give her a much bigger surprise later that night!

He took Ginny's arm gently and steered her into a side passage. "I've been worried about the Potions classroom. Snape's office is too near; if he caught me with you--"

Ginny nodded and let him direct her down the passage, down another flight of stairs, and around a corner into a damp dungeon.

"You know," he said, as they sat down on a wrought-iron garden bench (somewhat rusty from the moisture in the air, and looking distinctly out of place) "I once saw a picture of your house in the Daily Prophet. It looked really, uh, interesting! Is it held together by magic?"

Ginny nodded. "Yep. Mum and Dad had to add on every time another child was born. Sometimes they added sideways, and sometimes they added up--it's fun listening to Bill talk about it, he remembers all the additions--" She continued talking. Draco wasn't interested in the Burrow, so he let his mind wander, nodding and smiling at appropriate places to make her think that he was listening.

Funny, isn't it, he thought to himself, that the ones who can least afford children are the ones who have so many. Not that his parents hadn't tried...he could remember at least three occasions when his mother had told him that a sibling was on the way, and still he had none. Once, the child (a girl) had been stillborn; the other two times, she miscarried in the fourth or fifth month. And there were other times, too, when she had been puffy-eyed for no reason, and Draco strongly suspected that she had lost a child.

Two years ago, during the summer holidays, he had overheard his mother talking to Violet Parkinson, saying that the importance of keeping the bloodlines pure far outweighed the perils of inbreeding. But did they? Look at the Dark community now: the children that were produced (and they were rare) were sickly, or idiots, or both. Look at the Weasleys (whose family, he knew, was pure-blooded for at least four generations). They married who they wanted and reproduced like rabbits.

If the supporters of the Dark Arts were to flourish, they would need an infusion of fresh blood. He, Draco, could recruit new people to serve the Dark Lord...no Muggle-borns, of course, but families like the Weasleys, which were more or less pure-blooded, would add new vitality to the children who would follow in his footsteps...

Ginny Weasley would be his first recruit. He would show her the light (no, the Dark!). He listened to her voice, chattering on, musing that she would add intelligence and vitality to the Dark community that was sorely lacking. And health--her skin fairly glowed--not at all common among his Dark peers (he thought disdainfully of Pansy Parkinson and her anemic complexion).

He studied at her face. Her features were good; she would bring beauty back to the Dark community (he had to suppress a grimace as he thought of Millicent Bulstrode). Hopefully freckles were recessive, he thought. His gaze traveled downward, to her body, no longer the stick figure that he had always associated with her. She was becoming a woman...the type of woman that would help fill the empty, echoing manor houses he had visited (and lived in) as a child...

"Draco?" Ginny's voice jolted him back to reality. "Are you okay?" Her eyes narrowed. "Are you listening to me?"

"Oh--sorry. I feel sort of, well, drunk...intoxicated...with you..." He had meant to kiss her tonight, to bring her fully into his trust, and now seemed like a good time. His lips touched hers, his arms seemed to draw her nearer of their own accord. He could feel her body trembling...and then, as he drew her closer still, relaxing, surrendering.

She is mine, he thought. Should his mind be so disconnected as he experienced his first kiss, he wondered? He could not help but revel in the surety that he would win Ginny over to the Dark side. The thought of his power excited him, aroused him, and he kissed her even more passionately. It was almost, he thought, as if he were sucking her soul out through her mouth. Like a dementor.

He shuddered involuntarily. Ginny pulled away suddenly. "Draco? Is something wrong?"

His mind groped about for an excuse and latched onto the first idea he could find.

"Do you ever get your Mum talking to you in your mind, Ginny?"

"Oh. Yes. 'Put away your clothes, Ginny' and stuff like that?"

"Well--I just had this glimpse of my Mum telling me off for being with you--she's been arranging my marriage to Pansy Parkinson for several years now."

Ginny giggled; Draco scowled. He disliked Pansy strongly. Trying to change the subject to something more pleasant, he asked, "Were you trying to ask me something earlier?"

"Oh, well--yes. I've done all the talking tonight, and it seems I know so little about you. So I asked about your house."

"There's not much interesting about it," Draco said curtly. He didn't want to talk about himself. He might give himself away.

"Oh, please! I've always wanted to visit a manor house--please tell me what it's like!"

So he started, with only the briefest of descriptions, but with her eager coaxing he began to open up. He told her about the wings of the house, once built to house the huge Malfoy clan, now shuttered up and empty. He told her about the house elves, almost silly with boredom ("It actually helped when we lost Dobby," he admitted). He told her about the cliffs overlooking the sea, the hidden path down to the beach, the smugglers' cave (his name for it) where he had played with Crabbe and Goyle as a child.

He told how Crabbe had spent his first six years in a cottage on the estate, before moving with his parents to take care of Draco's grandmother's house (which became the property of Narcissa after her mother's death) and how Crabbe had always followed Draco around like a puppy dog. He told her how Goyle was the only one of the village children who he had been allowed to associate with.

He had never really opened up about his childhood before, and he found it rather disarming.

Suddenly he noticed that he'd run out of things to say. He was sitting on the bench, holding Ginny's hand, and staring at her. She was staring back at him, enthralled. He struggled with what to say next, and there was absolute silence for a few minutes.

Then, suddenly, he heard the clatter of footsteps echoing down the corridor. "The feast is out! I've got to get back to Slytherin!" he said suddenly.

"Oh, Draco, do you have to?"

"Yes, Ginny...dear. Curfew will be here soon, anyway. But I wish I didn't have to. I could stay here all night, talking with you. When do you think we can meet again?"

"Well, there is the Hogsmeade weekend in a week and a half. Could we meet behind the Shrieking Shack?"

"Hmmm." Draco's mind remembered vividly that the last time he'd visited the Shrieking Shack, he'd ended up with a face full of mud. "Maybe not. Behind the Three Broomsticks, maybe? There are woods not far from there where we could have some privacy." He sincerely hoped that Ginny didn't know that the woods behind the Three Broomsticks were a common place for Slytherin trysts.

"Oh, okay. See you then." Her eyes were shining excitedly.

This was too easy, he thought. She was so easily persuaded. Poor Ginny. Did she know what he had in store for her? He kissed her goodbye. This time he was gentle. He didn't want to scare her.