Bed Of Lies

Chapter 1 - Nemo Repente Fuit Turpissimus

His eyes followed her. Ginny Weasley shivered and ducked quickly into the library, eager to escape the penetrating gray gaze. With relief she saw that Hermione was already sitting at their usual table, an extremely large and ugly book open in front of her.

"Well, you look odd," Hermione said, barely glancing up from Bubotuber Puss and Other Useful Excretions.

"It's Malfoy, again," Ginny groaned, collapsing wearliy into the chair next to Hermione's as if she had walked all the way from London instead of just the potions dungeon. Then perking up slightly, she asked, "Anything good this month?" referring to the issue of Cosmo for Witches that Hermione had secreted inside her textbook.

Hermione's arched eyebrow conveyed the certainty of a most unpleasant death should Ginny tell anyone about her magazine addiction. "Just the usual...fashion tips, an article on how to keep your wizard happy in the sack and lots of pictures of Harry," she replied sweetly, "Perhaps you want them?"

Ginny blushed, but not as much as she would have five years earlier. While she hadn't actually outgrown her crush (truthfully, she probably loved Harry more than ever) she had learned to feign indifference…in most cases. "Anyway,," she said, conceding defeat and returning to the previous topic, "What can I do about him?"

"Draco?"

"Do you know any other creepy albino who watches me constantly?"

"Creepy albino, is he?" laughed Hermione. "I know quite a few girls who would disagree with you on that."

"If you're trying to get me to admit that Draco Malfoy is one hot piece of man candy, you're going to be severely disappointed."

Hermione just laughed harder. "Maybe he fancies you!" she teased.

"Ugh!" Ginny cringed, she couldn't imagine a boy less like her beloved Harry, "Do you have any idea how disturbing that idea is? Besides, he hates my family, always has."

"That doesn't mean he doesn't want to get in your pants."

Before Ginny could even shriek in outrage, Ron and Harry sauntered into the library. Hermione often made fun of the swagger they had developed over the last few years, but Ginny rather thought that after saving the wizarding world seven years in a row, they were entitled to a bit of pride.

"Who are you two talking about?!? And what do they want?" asked Ron sounding shocked.

Ginny didn't sink into an embarrassed puddle at Harry's feet – but it was a near thing. Only years of practice at ignoring the owner of those adorable emerald eyes saved her. "No one, just…never mind!"

Ron's eyes narrowed. Clearly, he wasn't going to let the subject drop without some significant embarassment on Ginny's part, and possibly some significant physical damage on the part of Ginny's admirer. Ginny through her hands up, resolving that if anyone was going to be embarassed today, it would most certainly not be her. "Fine! If you must know, Neville wants to get in my pants. I keep telling him no, I am, after all, really busy shagging Professor Dumbledore senseless all the time. And taking all those nude photos with Colin Creevy... I simply don't have time in my schedule for anyone else...He is so persistant, though. Do you think I should just sleep with him and get it over with? You know what they say about the quiet ones..."

Ron hated to lose a verbal battle with anybody, especially his baby sister, but as his brain tried to crawl out his ears, he was forced to retreat, still wondering where his sister-teasing had gone wrong. "Harry, help..." he whined pathetically, covering both ears, "Make her stop. I'll never get rid of these mental pictures."

Harry just laughed. Ron decided it would be safer for his peace of mind not to investigate the matter further, so he let the subject drop. Ginny smiled. So much for the king of wizard chess, her tactics were obviously more lethal. Checkmate!

"Why are you still sitting in here, anyway?" Ron asked Hermione testily, "We have a meeting with Dumbledore in five minutes!"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "What do you think I'm doing?" she held up Bubotuber Pus and Other Useful Excretions. "I'm studying!"

Ginny suffered a coughing fit that sounded suspiciously like hysterical laughter. Hermione thumped her helpfully on the back, which had the desired effect of stopping her cough, though it may also have bruised several ribs.

The boys were used to such incomprehensible exchanges, and didn't even bother trying to figure them out anymore. They just filed it under "Girl Stuff" along with everything else mere men weren't meant to understand, like PMS and Lip Gloss.

"Sorry, Ginny, duty calls. You can keep the book," said Hermione with a disturbing grin, "There's a very interesting discussion on page thirty-two about a certain excretion that may have something to do with your problem. And there are delightful instructions on how best to obtain it."

As the trio drifted toward the library door, Harry glanced back at Ginny who was staring in abject horror at Bubotuber Pus and Other Useful Excretions."Erm, Hermione, what on Earth is in that book?"

Hermione laughed all the way to Dumbledore's office, but refused to explain. "I'm sorry, but I've told you - Nerds – It's none of your business."

Harry balked briefly at the uncharacteristic name-calling, but caught on once the gargoyle hopped out of the way. Dumbledore had been using more and more muggle candy names as the war escalated. Evidently in the belief that the Death Eaters, who despised muggles, wouldn't be very familiar with their sweets.

The friends' jovial mood faded as they stepped into the office and saw Dumbledore sitting at his desk. The headmaster looked more tired than ever and the once-bright sparkle had disappeared from his faded eyes. Instead, they shone with barely restrained tears, disappointment…and defeat. "I'm afraid I have some bad news," he said.

Harry and Hermione sank slowly into the chairs in front of the desk. Ron stood silently behind them, his hand protectively on Hermione's shoulder. They waited for Dumbledore to continue.

"The Death Eaters executed a series of strategic attacks last night. They targeted The Order of the Phoenix. Everyone who was not at Hogwarts…" his voice broke, "…is presumed dead."

All color drained from Harry's face. "Sirius?" he whispered.

Dumbledore took a ragged breath and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Harry."

Two years ago, Voldemort had started sending his terror squads against the wizarding world. They attacked suddenly, with devastating violence, and disappeared just as quickly. The Ministry had been powerless against them. Everyone had always assumed that if the dark forces rose again, they would come as a mighty army...the truth was infinitely more frightening. The enemy was entirely invisible. There were no large camps...no easy targets. Actually, there were no targets at all. Even when the individual wizards could be captured, they had no knowledge of the rest of the plan.

Dumbledore had reinstated The Order of the Phoenix to fight back. It was an elite force, of forty to fifty wizards and witches, the best of the best. For a time they had been successful, but the tide had turned against them. Voldemort's forces were like the Hydra; for each soldier they eliminated, two seemed to appear in his place.

The public could see that they were fighting a losing battle. They fled, slowly at first…muggle-borns and half-bloods hid themselves in the muggle world, then, as the terror grew worse, everyone who had the means took their families and left England and the wizarding world behind. Hogwarts was nearly empty. Aside from Harry and his friends, who had stayed to fight, the remaining students stayed only because they had no family left and nowhere else to go. Only professors Snape and McGonagall remained, as much parents and protecters as teachers, now.

"What can we do?" asked Ron desperately, "We need to plan an attack."

"Mr. Weasley," sighed Dumbledore, "I'm afraid there is nothing we can do. Even the three of you can't take on Voldemort's Gestapo alone. Even I am not much help anymore."

Everyone at Hogwarts knew just how much it was costing the Headmaster to keep them safe. He seemed so exhausted, as if only sheer force of will kept him going. "We won't be alone. We'll have our friends…Neville…erm…"

"Ginny," supplied Hermione, earning a scowl from Ron.

"Mr. Longbottom has neither the skill not the temperament to be a warrior, and Miss Weasley is a full year behind the rest of you. They would never survive an encounter with Voldemort's forces." Ron blanched, but Dumbledore continued, "Look around you, Hogwarts is more orphanage than school. Most of the students have either gone into hiding to escape the Death Eaters, or…become Death Eaters themselves. Please. Save yourselves."

Harry stood, face set, "I am not giving up. There must be someone left who can help us."

Dumbledore shook his head, but Harry saw the faintest spark of…something in his eye.

"Who?"

"It won't work," murmured Dumbledore, more to himself than to Harry, "Even if you can convince him, there will still only be four of you."

"So there is someone!" said Hermione.

"You have to tell us!" insisted Ron.

Dumbledore continued to look uncertain, but his eyes shone brighter than they had for months.

"I don't care if it's Malfoy himself," bit out Harry. "I will do anything if it means we have a chance."

Dumbledore winced slightly, but smiled, "It is, actually."

"What?"

"Draco Malfoy is probably the only one left who can help you."

 

 

"Bloody hell," groaned Ron, throwing himself dejectedly into an overstuffed armchair in the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Hermione followed suit, flopping onto the sofa. "What are we going to do?"

"We're going to recruit Malfoy," stated Hermione simply, "We have to."

Harry snorted. "Sure, I'll just go up to him tomorrow at breakfast and say, Malfoy, you great prat, I know you've hated me since first year, but I really think it's time to put the past behind us. Especially since I'll most likely be killed if you don't help us wipe out your old friends.' ...He'd laugh himself to death."

"You might want to leave out the 'you great prat' part" suggested Hermione. Harry and Ron both fixed Hermione with a glare. "What?" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air, "Do either of you have a better idea? Or do you want to just wait like a sitting duck for Voldemort? Because whether or not you want to admit it Harry, he's after you. Dumbledore's told us a way we can prevent any more death or destruction and you're mocking it? Fine then! Throw away our best chance, no - our only chance, because you're too proud and too stubborn to ask Draco Malfoy for help." Hermione paused to take a breath. "Dumbledore's the greatest wizard there is," she said much more calmly, "so we're going to listen to him. Now, we just need to figure out how..." she trailed off.

Ron and Harry were mystified by Hermione's outburst but neither dared to protest. They had known Hermione long enough to realize that when she was adamant about something, she wouldn't stop until she had found the solution to the problem. All they had to do was think.

They were still sitting there in a stupor an hour later when Ginny returned from the library, her arms loaded with books.

"Ginny!" exclaimed Hermione.

"Hullo, Gin" mumbled Harry. Ron just grunted.

"No!" said Hermione, "I mean Ginny is the answer to our problem!" This proclamation earned her blank stares from both the boys and Ginny who was completely unaware that there was a problem, much less that she could solve it.

"I think it's time for you to get some sleep, Mione," Ron smiled, "My sister doesn't have anything to do with Draco Malfoy."

Ginny dropped the books she had been holding. "Hermione..." she said warningly, "What did you tell them?"

Ron gaped

Harry gaped.

Hermione smiled in an extremely self-satisfied manner. "That'll teach you to patronize me, Ron Weasley."

Ginny was still looking aghast. "Hermione!" she hissed, "I can't believe you..."

"Oh, Gin! I didn't tell them anything…yet. But," she said, turning to Harry and Ron, "I bet Ginny could talk to Draco."

Harry looked confused. "Why Ginny?"

"Draco want- er, likes her. He follows her around…watches her… If Ginny would just encourage him a little…"

"No!" said Ron and Ginny simultaneously. "I'll kill him!" continued Ron, a faintly disturbing grin crossing his face.

Hermione looked scornfully at Ron. "You know why this is necessary. Professor Dumbledore said he was probably our only chance."

"Oh, Hermione, you know I'd do anything in my power to help our cause, but I will not sacrifice my little sister! I'm supposed to protect her. That does not include having her prostitute herself to someone like Malfoy."

"Ron!" Ginny spluttered, mortified, "Just what kind of person am I allowed to prostitute myself to? Besides," she continued more quitely, "I'm old enough to take care of myself. Obviously, something important has happened. I know Hermione wouldn't be asking this of me for no reason. Just tell me about it and let me decide for myself."

Hermione briefly explained the situation; the Death Eaters' attack, the conversation with Dumbledore, and Draco's role. When she had finished, Ginny just stood silently for several minutes assimilating the information.

"My God," exhaled Ginny. "They're all dead? I…" she shook her head slowly, unable to fathom the death of so many, "I don't know…I mean, I want to help, but…I don't think I can. This won't work." How could she feign interest in Draco when her heart belonged to Harry? She was no actress. He'd never believe it.

"You have to try, Gin!" begged Hermione.

"No." insisted Ron, with a glare at Hermione, "You don't have to. It was wrong of us to ask," he added with a pointed glance at his friends.

Ginny held her hands out in a helpless, apologetic gesture, all the while cursing herself as a spineless coward, "I can't…there must be some other way…"

Hermione caught Harry's eye over Ginny's shoulder. After seven years of friendship, words were no longer necessary for communication. He knew what she wanted him to do. Ignoring the faint protestations of his conscience, Harry took Ginny's hands in his own. He looked deep into her troubled brown eyes. The thought briefly entered his mind that she really was quite pretty, but he pushed it away. "Gin," he said, "We need you. I need you. Please."