Morality

(4) Frustration

Resisting her urge to rip apart her schoolbooks, Ginny instead settled for picking at loose threads on her bedspread. How dare he, she thought angrily; how dare he bring up Tom Riddle's diary, as if he even cared. He was playing it up, this whole tortured soul thing. Ginny hated him for it; she hated that he was so good at this game. But, in the back of her mind, she couldn't help but wonder if he was telling the truth. Impossible though it seemed, no one could be as one-hundred percent evil as Malfoy seemed. To see him like this, downstairs, apologizing for all his wrong-doings had hit Ginny in the pit of her stomach. Almost as if the weight of his confessions were sitting there, like a stone. She knew that the seed of doubt had been planted in her mind, and that it would be difficult to hate him so implicitly, but nothing could make her trust him. Draco Malfoy was trouble. If anyone could appropriately be called that, it was most definitely him.

Ginny had every reason to hate the boy. He had, aside from school bullyings, done damage like no other to the very foundation of her world. Were it not for Draco Malfoy, she would probably be returning to school at the end of the summer and Dumbledore would be alive and leading their resistance movement against You-Know-Who, protecting them all from the not-so-benign evils of the wizarding world. But, as it was currently, Ginny could do nothing but sit in her room above the shop and contemplate what this new turn of events would bring.

Lupin had said that her mother would be arriving soon, just how soon, no one could be sure. But, if she arrived and interrogated Malfoy herself, and he proved to her that he was true, Ginny had absolutely no idea what would happen. Her mind played out all the possible scenarios: the most hopeful involving Mrs. Weasley getting angry and blowing Malfoy's head up and the least happy including Draco Malfoy being protected by Order wizards at all times. The only place that was constantly occupied with Order members was...

"THE BURROW?!"

Ginny jumped at the shouts from downstairs; Fred and George seemed to have hit the same train of thought as she. She made her way down into the shop and stopped a few stairs from the bottom, only to find her brothers standing before her, hands on hips, glaring at their mother.

"YOU ARE GOING TO ALLOW THAT FILTHY TRAITOR TO STAY AT OUR HOUSE?!" Fred bellowed.

Mrs. Weasley returned his glare, but her voice remained cool and level.

"I shall, of course, do whatever is deemed necessary by the Order. And, as far as anyone can tell, the Malfoy boy is as innocent as either of you. He was offered protection from Dumbledore, and the Order will fulfill Dumbledore's wishes."

"His DYING wishes!" George shouted. "Which wouldn't have been his DYING wishes, if not for that," he launched into a long string of expletives, "cowardly fake!"

It seemed a rather weak ending, but Mrs. Weasley looked angry despite it.

"Do not raise your voice with me. I am still your mother. And he is coming with us. All that is left to be done is to tell our new Head, and alert the rest of the members. Until that point in time, I know you won't mind aiding us by allowing him to occupy your back room."

Fred and George exchanged a look, then began spluttering.

"Enough!" Mrs. Weasley shouted.

Ginny came down the last few steps into the room, and was met with shocked faces. They all struggled to look innocent, but managed only to look extremely pained. She opened her mouth once, and closed it, then tried again.

"So, Malfoy is coming to stay?" she asked quietly. Her mother simply nodded. "Well. Have you untied him yet?" The twins shook their heads. "Alright." Ginny bit her lip and sighed.

"You heard us talking, then?" asked Fred.

"I think people in Scotland heard you 'talking,'" Ginny responded. She took a seat on the stairs, her elbows propped on her knees. "This is going to be hell and back, you realize?" Mrs. Weasley made a face.

"Maybe you'll all be," she looked as though the next word was getting caught in her throat, "friends." Ginny laughed wryly.

"Yeah. Maybe. And maybe a couple people in Scotland didn't hear Fred and George hollering. While we're at it, maybe You-Know-Who's really not that bad at all."

Her mother groaned. "Not you, too. Someone has to be positive about this. You have to understand why we must take him in, don't you?"

Shrugging, Ginny replied, "Dumbledore offered. We have to honor it, for some noble reason or other, and all we'll get out of it is one more leak to You-Know-Who. It's not fair, though. Why us? Why home? Can't we just make him board somewhere unpleasant, like the old Headquarters?"

"He must be watched. Not only to protect him. But to protect us. We can't let him alone." Mrs. Weasley seemed downcast. "I didn't think, when I was called here, that I would believe him. I thought it would be as fake as anything else the Malfoys have ever done, but I was wrong. I do believe him, even if I don't trust him. And I will have to work at forgiving him, just as surely as you will."

"You're asking me to forgive him, too?" Ginny asked incredulously. "Mum, don't you think that's a little much?" She found her mother's eyes on her, searching her face. Mrs. Weasley sat beside her on the steps and looked at her daughter.

"No, I don't think it's too much. I know that you're a good person, and as surely as I know that, I know that you won't always be able to hate him for what he did. You are too good. You have seen too much evil in your life, and I wish I could have spared you that, but it has made you so strong; you know how to handle yourself, just as you should, and you know what is right."

Ginny listened carefully, then shrugged. "You're right, Mum. I know you are, but I can't help but hate him. Until I believe he's innocent as you say he is, I can't forgive him. I won't." Mrs. Weasley nodded slowly.

"I know, Ginny, and that's perfectly fine. I'm just asking you to give him a chance. We all have to."

The mother and daughter sat together in silence, both of them watching the twins as they bustled around the room, under the pretense of straightening up the merchandise. Ginny knew as well as her brothers what this meant for their family. If Malfoy was lying, imminent danger awaited them. If he was telling the truth, the outcome was still just as bad. Either way, the Dark Lord would be coming for them.

The rest of the day passed in a flurry of movement as Order members came in and out of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, all talking about protection and how to go about it. They included, but were not limited to: Lupin, Tonks, and Moody, all rotating shifts watching the house, installing several new wards, and keeping everyone safe with other hurried methods.

It was almost dark by the time her mother returned to her.

"It's time to go now. You have all your things together, correct?" Ginny nodded. "Good. I'll have Tonks take them back, and we'll head to The Leaky Cauldron to use their fireplace. Lupin's coming back with us too; he's escorting the boy." Ginny again nodded, and her mother left to give everyone last minute orders.

Malfoy stood across from her near the counter. He was looking rather the worse for wear, Ginny saw, noting the bruised welts around his wrists from being bound to the chair. His eyes scanned the room, then rested on her. She stared right back at him, but his gaze was already elsewhere. In a few minutes, they were all heading down the street to The Leaky Cauldron.

Tom greeted them happily, and Ginny saw Draco talking to him. Lupin noticed too, and stopped beside the two. Mrs. Weasley ushered Ginny to the fireplace, and taking a pinch of powder, cast it into the flames. They blazed bright green, and she stepped it. "THE BURROW!" she shouted, before she was pulled away into darkness.

The swirling motion managed to twist her hair around her face. It blocked the vision of all the fireplaces spinning past her. Then the whirling stopped and she fell out onto the floor of the Burrow, coughing ash. Floo was a sensation one never quite got used to.

Ron and Hermione were waiting anxiously for her. The moment she stood, they pulled her upstairs and into Ron's room.

"What happened?" Ron asked worriedly. "No one bothered to tell us anything at all. One moment we were sitting at the table, having a bit of a late lunch, and then the next, poof! Lupin got out of here so fast; it was amazing. Then Mum left without much of an explanation at all. Do you know what caused such a ruckus?"

The pair watched her eagerly. Ginny sat on Ron's bed, pushing a stack of books out of her way. Then, she took a deep breath before attempting to explain.

"Right, so I need you two to promise not to interrupt me, alright?" They agreed quickly, and she continued. "So, I was sitting in Diagon Alley, right in front of the shop, when..."

It took about ten minutes to explain it all, and afterwards, Hermione stared at her, open-mouthed. Ron seemed to be turning bright red, which was never a good sign.

"You're telling me that Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, is going to stay HERE?" asked Ron. His eyes were fixed on Ginny, as if they might could penetrate her. "I think that is the worst news of my life. Well, apart from finding out that Scabbers wasn't really--"

Hermione elbowed him. "This is so odd. I mean, we were all set believing that he was enjoying working for You-Know-Who, weren't we? And now, he turns up asking for protection. I wonder if he's being honest. I mean, obviously if your mother believes him, there must be some truth to his story. But, still." She seemed to be having trouble getting here head around it. "Honestly, though. I can't believe what he said to you about the diary. That was really weird, you know? I simply can't believe that Malfoy would apologize, much less for his father, but he did. This is pretty unbelievable."

"Unbelievable," stuttered Ron. "That's the right word. As in, I can't believe it. I don't. He's a lying git and I don't trust him as far as I can throw Hagrid. You know, I bet he was put up to it. I bet he's trying to double-cross all of us. That would be the real cherry on the top of this really sick, twisted, evil sundae."

Hermione snorted, exchanging a look with Ginny that clearly meant Ron had fallen off his rocker. "He's not a criminal mastermind, Ron," Hermione scoffed. "He's only seventeen."

"Oh yeah? Then how did he manage to get all those Death Eaters in, huh?" She looked appropriately chastised for half a moment before Ginny spoke.

"Anyway. That's what happened. Have you heard them come back, yet? They were supposed to follow me through, but you two just yanked me up and out of there so quickly I didn't have a chance to see if they made it or not." Ron and Hermione shook their heads. Just then, the door opened and Mrs. Weasley stuck her head in.

"Oh good, you've filled them in? Well, let's all head downstairs for a spot of dinner. I'm famished."

The three made their way downstairs and into the kitchen. They were met with the sight of Draco Malfoy sitting at their table, observing the room. Ginny found the sight moderately disgusting, and could tell that Ron felt the same from the slight gagging sound that he made. Hermione finally stepped forward and sat down across from him. Ron sat beside her, and Ginny across from him. Malfoy stared at them blankly, his cool eyes barely focused. Mrs. Weasley busied herself cooking. They all waited in utter silence, which was made even more awkward by the entrance of Lupin and Tonks, who were both looking falsely cheery.

Lupin and Tonks sat on either side of Malfoy and struggle to make conversation.

"So, Ginny," Tonks began, her voice too loud. "How was your stay in Diagon Alley?"

"It was, er, fine."

Lupin tried next, asking Hermione how her research was going.

"Great, really great," she replied, her eyes carefully averted from the boy at the end of the table. "You know, I think I've almost got it, but for a few more details that don't quite add up."

The silence again descended upon them, sitting heavily on their shoulders. Malfoy seemed to be the only one unaffected by it: his eyes continued to roam the room, occasionally stopping on the Weasley clock that displayed all of the family members on hands. Ginny watched his eyes moving, before they settled again on her, for the second time that day. This time, he let them linger there, but still unfocused on her, as if he were seeing through her. His line of sight was obscured suddenly as Mrs. Weasley set a large pot of stew in the middle of the table, proclaiming, "Let's eat!"

"But we haven't got any bowls, Mum," pointed out Ron.

Mrs. Weasley blushed, waving her wand and causing seven bowls to fly out of the cabinets and land on the table roughly. Ginny, in a hurry to have anything other to do with her mouth than talk, ladled some of the watery stew into her bowl and began eating. The rest of the table followed suit.

And so begins a very uncomfortable dining experience for the lot of us, Ginny thought wryly.

Indeed, it turned out to be an extremely unpleasant experience. Ron finished his bowl first, and excused himself to his room. Hermione finished next and followed after him. Ginny tried to eat slower, so as not to give her mother any reason to complain later about manners. Tonks again tried to force conversation, but this time no one responded. Lupin was the only one to even acknowledge that she had spoken, and Malfoy continued to stare off into space, his bowl of stew untouched. Ginny finally finished and removed herself from the kitchen. She had just started up the stairs when she heard it.

"Ginny, darling, you are back already? Eesn't eet early?"

Shoulders drooping, Ginny turned to face Fleur, who was poised at the bottom of the stairs, her eyes fixed on Ginny.

"Early. Right. Didn't you hear about the fiasco that happened today?"

Fleur shook her head. "No, I 'ave been too busy with Gringotts, and taking care of Bill. What 'appened?"

"Ask Mum. She's in the kitchen."

Ginny jogged up the last few flights, leaving Fleur staring at her from below. She pushed open the door of Ron's room, finding Hermione sitting there, reading a book. Ron was watching her interestedly from the end of the bed.

"Is this the research Lupin was talking about?" Hermione nodded.

"You see, I've been thinking of ways to help the Order, and to help Harry. We have to set up even more wards for Harry to come this time, so I've been looking up some of those. I've also been researching Horcruxes, of course, but most of what I've found is disappointing. Vague references don't do much to help, I'm afraid."

"Horcruxes are dark magic though. Any books we have won't do you any good," Ginny told her.

"Yes, I realized that. I had Tonks check out a few books for me from a Wizarding library, but there's just so little about Horcruxes anymore. Apparently, the few books there are left are in foreign languages, or otherwise they're owned by private book collectors. I sent a letter to the library, because they track old and rare books, but they said that the names of the collectors couldn't be released."

"That's rubbish. Why would they keep track of the collectors if they won't tell anyone who they are?" Ron asked. Hermione shrugged.

"Privacy, I suppose, but they probably would want to buy the books if they ever went on sale privately."

"Do you have anything for me to help with?"

Ron looked at Ginny, saying, "But you hate studying!"

"I don't care, Ron. It's to help."

Hermione handed her a book, saying, "I'd like you to read that and tell me anything useful you find. Anything to do with horcruxes, or even general cruxes, or old texts it says to reference. That's one of the last few I haven't got around to reading yet, but I still have to finish this first," she held up a thick, leather-bound book that could have been used as a doorstop. Ginny agreed, turning over the book in her hands.

It was small, bound in simple black leather, with a gold title emblazoned across the front: Ancient Studies of the Dark Arts. Ron caught sight of the title and exclaimed, "I don't want her reading that!"

"It's to help Harry, Ron. Leave it be," Hermione groaned before returning to her overlarge tome.

Ginny sat on the bed next to her and opened the book. It appeared to be handwritten in dark ink that might have been blood, and she realized the moment she opened it that Ron had every reason not to want her to read it. In a casual flick through the pages, Ginny caught glimpses of simple sketches depicting the effects of ancient dark arts when used on humans. Ginny flinched as she closed the book with a snap. Standing, she told Hermione, "I think I'll save this for tomorrow. This is all too much to take in for one day."

"Amen to that," Ron concurred, looking as exhausted as if it was he who had gone through the chaos of earlier. He flopped back onto the bed, sprawling out and upsetting Hermione's ink bottle. She smacked him upside the head, and Ginny bid them goodnight. She wanted desperately to go to sleep and wake up, to find that this was only a terrible dream.

Heading to her room and casting the book onto her dresser, she fell into bed without even bothering to undress. In moments, the dark warmth of sleep overcame her, and she let herself float away.