Soutenir pour la Vengeance

The next morning, Ginny woke to the sound of her alarm clock ringing next to her ears. She groaned and rolled out of bed, slapping the noise maker on to the floor. She dragged herself into the bathroom, and came out a few minutes later, wearing a powder white robe.

Ginny made her way to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of orange juice. She didn't care much for coffee, as it made her too jittery. Her mind wandered over to past night, and she slowly put her mug down.

Ginny remembered that day perfectly. Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had been announced murdered earlier that morning, when a house elf walked into their chambers to fluff their pillows. It seemed they had been killed by the Avada Kedavra curse the past night, and no one seemed to have noticed anybody in the house except for the usual family.

Ginny shuddered, thinking of the two Malfoys lying motionless in bed, never waking up.

The news, not knowing if she should call it bad or good, because nobody really liked the Malfoys, was all over the Daily Prophet and the WWN. It had been so unexpected, that all anyone could think about was who had done it. Suddenly, all fingers were pointing at the Malfoy's nineteen year old son, Draco. The Draco Malfoy who had put her brothers and herself through such hell in school. The Draco Malfoy who had tried so hard to get anyone Harry loved hurt in some way. The Draco Malfoy who's heart was so much like ice, that everyone suspected him of the misdemeanor.

He was almost charged with murder, but there was never any evidence found that connected him with the scene. So, he was released from Ministry hands. Nevertheless, the community failed to believe his alibi; they knew he was the one who killed his parents.

But later on the day, Malfoy was charged with attempted murder on Harry Potter and was thrown into Azkaban. Everyone suspected that Malfoy had gone on a killing rampage, first killing his parents, then trying to kill Harry. A chill traveled down Ginny's spine as the thought of what might have happened if she hadn't showed up at that exact moment.

The following week she had to testify against Malfoy. She remembered the hollowness of the large, stone chamber and Malfoy strapped to a cement chair. Sitting there, motionless.

Every time Cornelius Fudge would inquire something of him, he just sat there, expressionless, never saying a word. Those silver orbs he called eyes, staring straight at her, like a shard of glass, tearing at her soul. Never did they stop. Fudge soon got aggravated, and sent him to Azkaban, not announcing for how many years, as he was so furious.

Ginny sighed and sipped her juice lightly. Her hand extended to the folded Prophet, but just as she was about to open it, a large snowy owl swooped in through her window, a small parcel clamped in it's feet.

"Hedwig!" she exclaimed, gently rubbing the beautiful owl's head. "What have you got there?"

She took the package from the owl's ankle, and it took flight out the window. She watched it until it was just a speck in the yellow tinged sky.

She examined the parcel in her hands. It looked like any other package, but she noticed there was a note taped to it, addressing her. Ginny immediately recognized Harry's handwriting and she quickly tore off the brown paper. It was a small, emerald box, with red floral designs circling around the center. She opened it, and her heart leaped a mile.

Inside was a little silver pendant shape liked a rose, with tiny emeralds for leaves. A chain of silver wounded through the loop, so thin, it looked almost invisible. She gasped at how extravagant it looked, shining in the morning light.

"Oh, Harry.." she whispered in pure awe. "How beautiful..."

She tore her eyes away from the trinket, so that they landed on the piece of parchment attached to the back of the box. She unfolded it with trembling hands and read aloud to herself.

She frowned, and reread the note. Well, that wasn't exactly what she had expected. Why was the note so simple? Surely, such a gem cost a lot.....probably all of what he earned in one Quiddich game! Maybe...

She shook her head softly, and hooked the chain around her neck. She quickly gathered her juice and made her way to her wardrobe to get ready for work.

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Draco lay statically in his dingy bed, staring up at the gray ceiling that was caked with mold. Spiders traveled across it edges and bits of stone fell on his abdomen, prickling his stomach. Draco was use to this scene by now. He looked up at it every day. He placed his hands behind his head and glared at the spiders for no apparent reason. Seeing there was no affect, he turned on to his side, facing the stone bars that enclosed him in this prison.

Draco growled softly to himself, remembering for what seemed like the billionth time, who had put him here. If it weren't for her, he would have succeeded in his plan, but no. She just had to interfere. He shivered slightly at the coldness of his prison. Damn that woman! She just had to ruin everything!

He sat up and backed into the corner of his bed, staring at the cell door. Two dementors were approaching him; his back stiffened. After all those years, he still wasn't use to them. The way they hung over people , breathing coldly on the backs of their necks.

He closed his eyes momentarily. Unlike the majority of the people that were sent to Azkaban, he did not go mad.....maybe just a little. He had too much to do before he let his soul get sucked fro him. It wasn't like he had a soul, though, but something kept him alive and sane for several years.

He watched as the dementors slowly slid back the iron door. It stretched out its hand and made a gesture for Draco to come forward.

Draco hesitated, unsure of what to do, but kept his face straight as he sidled out of bed and started towards them. It let out a few rasps and after some time, Draco finally realized they were words.

"Time to go," it said hoarsely. Draco didn't know what to think. Go where? But then he considered the angered tone of it's 'voice', and knew it meant he was leaving.

Draco's eyes lit up with an imaginary fire, his trademark smirk beginning to appear on his face. He laughed mirthlessly inside himself as they led him down the winding corridor, past other peoples cells. They hooted and hollered at him with jealously, but not once did he turn to them. He just kept his face straight ahead, towards the exit.

He felt a huge wave of change wash over him, as he slowly pulled his old robes over himself and tossed them carelessly in a corner. He eyed himself in the muggy mirror, and ran a hand through his silver hair.

He glided out of the giant, wooden doors that had held him in that prison for so long. He walked swiftly, a slight sneer working upon his brow, with only one thing on his mind.

"I hope you're ready, Weasley."

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Ginny threw herself on her hominy white couch, snuggling into the soft cushions. It had been a long day for her at Madam Malkin's. A disgruntled witch had stormed into the little shop, complaining about uneven seams in her daughters dress robes, and that they hardly fit her. Ginny had calmly tried to explain to the woman that maybe her daughter had gained some weight in the month she had sent the order in. But the witch wouldn't have it, exclaiming loudly that what Ginny was trying to inquire was nonsense and trudged out the door, without demanding a refund.

Ginny had started working at the shop about four years ago. She hadn't been really interested in working at the Ministry of Magic, too much political work that she didn't care for.

She dragged herself into her room to change out of her work robes in to something more comfortable, but just as she was about to open her wardrobe, she noticed Hedwig on her window sill. She let out a cry of alarm and accidentally tripped over the trousers she was trying to put on. Ginny quickly pulled her pants on and made her way to the wind.

She scratched Hedwig's head, untying the piece of parchment from her leg. Hedwig quickly took flight out the window again. She unfolded the note and read aloud:

Ginny stared down at the note in complete horror. He's free? Draco Malfoy free? She shook her head violently. No, there must be a mistake. She reread the note, and dropped it in realization. Her mind started to twist and turn with thoughts she never knew she could produce. Horrid, vivid scenes of herself lying in a pool of blood somewhere and Harry with half his head cracked open.

She shivered and thought of what Harry had said. Lock doors! No, he was right. That wasn't good enough. The Hideaway charm should work, if only she new how to do it.

She was about to scrawl a note out to Harry, asking exactly how to produce a Hideaway charm, but her hand ceased as she felt a cloud of warmth hit the back of her neck. She slowly turned around to meet a couple of hoary eyes, glaring malevolently at her.

"Hello, Weasley."