Ginny Weasley and the Heirs of Darkness

Chapter 19: The Girls of Hogwarts Quidditch

"Ginny, hurry it up!" Ron hollered up the stairs.

Ginny frowned at her reflection in the mirror. She had been fussing with Draco's scarf for the past twenty minutes, trying to decide how, or even whether, she should wear it.

"Be proud of who you are, dear," her mirror advised.

That decided it- tugging her cloak on, Ginny looped the scarf around her neck, letting the ends drape over her shoulders. The silvery "Malfoy" was blatantly visible. Bracing herself with a deep breath, Ginny levitated her trunk down the stairs.

"About time, Gi-" Ron started to say as his sister bounced her trunk into the front hall. He took in her attire, eyes narrowing. "What is that?" he asked, disdainfully eyeing the Slytherin scarf as if it were, like the snake it represented, going to uncoil from Ginny's neck and bite him.

"It's a scarf, Ron," Ginny said snidely, directing the trunk toward the kitchen, where it would join her on the Floo trip to London.

"Malfoy's?" he demanded.

"Believe that's what it says on it, yes," Ginny replied, her concentration deliberately focused on her trunk. She pushed her hair out of her eyes. "Any other inane questions, or are we finished discussing my outerwear?"

"Ginny, that's hardly fair," Hermione said gently, appearing behind Ron. "You haven't told him yet?"

Ron raised an eyebrow at Hermione. "Told me what? No, she hasn't told me. Gin, what are you supposed to tell me?" He looked uneasy, as if he knew he wasn't going to like her response.

Ginny scuffed the toe of her boot on the pine floor of the kitchen. "I've patched things up with Draco, Ron."

"When?" Ron exploded. "You haven't seen him since-" He glanced at Hermione, and comprehension dawned. He turned back to his sister. "Bronwen Zabini's clothes emergency?" he asked acerbically.

Ginny just looked away, continuing to mar the wax of Molly Weasley's shiny kitchen floor. To her surprise, Ron didn't finish his tirade- one look at the expression on Hermione's face seemed to resign him to the situation. "I take it you knew about this," he said rhetorically.

Hermione answered him anyway. "Yes," she said, chin tilted in an almost defiant manner. "I don't like Malfoy any more than you do, Ron, but I do believe Ginny has a right to make her own decisions about her life." Her eyes glowed with the same fervor they had when she spoke about S.P.E.W. "And the more you push her to do what you want her to do, the more likely she is to run in the opposite direction. Towards Malfoy."

"Much as I love having the two of you talk about me as if I'm not here," Ginny interrupted loudly, "as usual, Hermione's right," she continued, lowering her voice. "Ron, I know you were awfully happy about my break-up, but you promised before that you wouldn't interfere, and that's all I ask for. Please?"

He nodded reluctantly, and Ginny added, "Besides, there are more important things to worry about. Like the dragon pox."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but before she could get anything out, Harry and the twins tumbled into the kitchen.

"Harry, my boy," George was saying, "it's right good of you to volunteer like this."

"Sporting," Fred chimed in.

"What did you volunteer to do, Harry?" Hermione asked suspiciously. "These two haven't put you up to any of their schemes, have they?" She shot Fred and George an unpleasant look.

Fred gasped, and George mimed a heart attack. "Who, us?" they asked innocently. "Why, my dear, dear Hermione," Fred continued, "it's almost as if you suspect us of doing something-"

"Nastily nefarious," George finished for his twin.

"Or deadly dangerous," Fred supplied.

"Downright dastardly," George quipped.

"Mightily mischiev-"

"Enough!" Hermione cried, throwing up her hands in exasperation. She gave Harry a warning look. "I just hope you don't do anything that merits a detention," she said with a sigh.

"Surely ol' Harry here isn't going to get a detention, not with three prefects covering for him," said Fred, gesturing at Ron, Hermione, and Ginny. He seemed to notice his sister for the first time. "Say, Gin, what's that you're wearing?"

"Looks a bit too Slytherin for a Weasley to wear," George mused aloud, a subtle edge to his voice.

Ginny looked at Ron in amazement. "Fred and George don't know?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I never told them."

Ginny felt a new surge of respect for her favorite brother. She turned back to the twins. "It's my boyfriend's," she said simply.

At this, George grinned evilly, and Fred cracked his knuckles menacingly. "You're dating a Slytherin, eh, Gin? Which one, we'd dearly love to bash his skul- er, shake his hand and welcome him to the family, that is."

Ginny giggled. She could always count on the twins to make a joke of any situation. "Draco Malfoy," she replied, forgetting that Fred and George had had a few of their own unpleasant encounters with Draco in the past.

The twins' expressions darkened. "That slimy little git?" Fred demanded.

"The one who called Hermione a Mudbl-" George couldn't even finish the word, and he shot the Muggle-born girl an apologetic glance that she waved away.

"He's promised not to say that word anymore," Ginny replied lamely. She abruptly felt a wave of guilt about her selfishness. This whole time, she'd expected her family and friends to just cheerfully accept Draco the way they'd accepted Harry, forgetting all the horrid things Draco had done to them in the past. She couldn't look at Harry; suddenly, she had some awareness of how much she'd hurt him; how much she was still hurting him. Tucking the scarf inside her collar, she said, "I don't really want to talk about it."

Fred and George glanced at each other. "Well," George said finally, "it could be worse."

"Yes, indeedy," replied Fred. "Ginny could be dating a paving stone."

"Or the Whomping Willow."

"Or Peeves!"

In spite of the twins' joking and cajoling, however, the cheery mood of the afternoon had been spoiled. After hurried hugs from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Hermione made the trip to Diagon Alley and then King's Cross in relative silence. Ginny could tell the other three were eager to get away from her so they could talk about her, and that was just fine- she didn't particularly want them around, either; not for her reunion with Draco.

"We're going to find a compartment together, Ginny," Hermione told her when they arrived at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. "You'll be sitting with, ah, your friends?"

Ginny nodded. Hermione smiled encouragingly at her, and even Ron seemed quietly resigned. Harry avoided her gaze. "See you all when we get to school, then," Ginny said.

Nods, and then the Trio disappeared into the crowd. Hastily, Ginny untucked her Slytherin scarf from her cloak. Earlier, she hadn't wanted her parents to see it, but now, she didn't want Draco to think she'd forgotten it. Patting it primly in place, she stood on her tiptoes, scanning the crush of students for the familiar glint of blond.

"Ginny!"

Startled, Ginny spun around. "Bronwen, you scared me half to death," she accused.

"Sorry," replied the pretty Slytherin, not looking the least apologetic. "Are you excited?"

Ginny frowned. "About what?"

"Draco, of course," Bronwen said, looking at Ginny quizzically. "You are back together with him, aren't you?"

"How did you know?" Ginny asked. She hadn't told her friends, wanting it to be a surprise.

"Draco, of course," Bronwen repeated. "At his parents' New Year's Eve celebration; my family goes every year." Bronwen's brow furrowed. "Though I couldn't understand why you weren't there- if things are fine for the two of you, why didn't you come? Was it your parents? If I'd known, I would have invited you to stay at my house...."

The Malfoy New Year's party. It was something she wanted to ask Draco about; why hadn't he re-invited her? Ginny shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe he didn't want me there."

"Hardly."

Bronwen turned to see Draco off to the right of where she and Ginny were standing. Upon noting the none-too-subtle glare he was directing at her, she decided to make herself scarce. "Ah, look, there's Fiona," she said brightly, pointing at a short blonde Ravenclaw who looked nothing like their friend. "Talk to you later, Gin!"

"Bye, Bron," Ginny replied absently, her eyes on Draco.

The two of them stood there awkwardly for a moment, Ginny wishing desperately that he'd say something. Anything. Finally, she sighed. "It certainly seemed like you didn't want me to come."

Draco was silent for a moment, then his mouth curled into just a ghost of a smirk. "Well, you'd already seen my bedroom, Weasley, so what was the point?"

Ginny scowled at this less-than-satisfactory answer as Draco raked his fingers through his hair in an uncharacteristically edgy gesture. "Fine, Weasley, you want the truth?"

She nodded mutely.

"I didn't trust you." He looked a bit embarrassed, but she could tell he was smug, too, and she knew precisely why- revenge for all the times she'd told him she didn't trust him.

"Why not?" she asked, confused and a bit hurt.

Now Draco just seemed exasperated. "Well, you had no qualms about making a fool of me in front of Godswift," he growled. "How was I to know whether or not you'd pull something like that again?"

Ginny's eyes widened. She hadn't thought of it that way. "Oh."

"Oh," he echoed mockingly.

Ginny glared at him. "I hope you had a wretched time without me."

"Without you stepping on my feet and trying to count my nonexistent freckles?" Draco asked.

"Malfoy, I have never stepped on your feet-" Ginny started to retort indignantly.

"Ginny," he interrupted.

"Yes?" Her tone was impatient and irritable.

"There will be other parties at the manor. You can start stepping on my feet at the next one." Draco reached out, fingering the fringe of the scarf that hung around her neck. He smiled ever-so-slightly as his thumb traced the embroidery of his name, then his eyes flicked up to meet Ginny's.

She smiled back at him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He lowered his head, assuming she was going to kiss him, but Ginny feinted to the left, her lips landing just below his ear. "I look forward to it," she whispered. "Shall I wear these boots or a pair of nice, sharp heels?"

"I was somewhat hoping you'd wear nothing at all," Draco muttered in an undertone.

Ginny pulled away, raising her eyebrows in mock horror. "Just what sorts of parties are your parents having?"

"I assure you, my parents would not be invited to that particular type of party," Draco replied, his mouth twisting into a sly little smirk as he lowered his head to kiss her.

Eyes bright with mirth, Ginny danced out of his reach. "Not yet," she said, thoroughly enjoying the disappointed look on his face. She hesitated cruelly for a few moments, then said, "If there's going to be any of that, we need to hurry and find a compartment of our own."

Realization dawned in Draco's eyes, and his smirk returned. "I'm rather fond of the way you think, Weasley," he said as he followed her onto the train. Ginny glanced at him over her shoulder, wearing a smirk of her own.

"You're only fond of the way I think?" she asked, just a hint of petulance seeping into her tone.

Draco flicked his eyes over her, deliberately taking just a bit too long, making her flush. "No, not just the way you think," he answered, voice pitched low. In spite of her embarrassment, Ginny grinned happily, leading him toward the closest compartment.

Unfortunately, it was occupied. "Hello, Ginny," Seamus greeted her pleasantly. "How was your holiday?" If he noticed that Draco Malfoy was with her, he didn't comment.

"It was fine, Seamus," Ginny said, noting that Dean Thomas and Colin Creevey were also seated in the compartment. "What about all of you?"

"Decent enough," Dean said.

"It was alright," Colin replied.

"Listen, Ginny," Seamus said before she could leave, "we were hoping to talk with you. Well, not just you, but Katie and Mimi, too."

"Oh?" Ginny asked. "What about?"

"Well, as I'm sure your brother and Hermione have told you, there's only been a small bit of progress towards finding a cure for dragon pox."

Ginny nodded. "And Charlie mentioned over Christmas that they're running short of funding."

"Yes," Seamus said. "Which is why we want to talk to you. The idea came from Fred and George, actually, but they wanted to wait until they heard from Harry. We just talked to him, and he's in."

"Seamus, you're talking in circles," Ginny said. "What do you need my help with?"

"We're making a calendar. As a fundraiser for the dragon pox. 'The Girls of Hogwarts Quidditch.' Are you willing to be in it?"

Draco made a half-choked sound from behind her; Ginny ignored him. "Do I get to wear clothes?" she asked Seamus suspiciously. Draco started to cough, and Ginny stomped none-too-gently on his toes.

"Of course!" Seamus squeaked, his cheeks tinged with pink. "Yes, yes, you'd, er, you'd be wearing your Gryffindor Quidditch uniform."

Noting Seamus's discomfort, Dean took over the conversation. "Colin here will take the photos, Fred and George are going to market it, I'm doing the accompanying artwork, and Harry's agreed to fund the initial costs of printing and things. Seamus is working on recruitment."

"I see," Ginny replied, still ignoring Draco's background coughing fit. "Well, who's agreed so far?"

Seamus made a big show of scanning the list in front of him. "All the Hufflepuff girls- that's Pauwlonia Smythe, Laurana Godswift, and Iphigenia King- plus Cho Chang and Bronwen Zabini. Padma Patil is undecided, and we still need to talk to Katie, Mimi, Fiona Wolfswaite and Georgine Belleton."

Ginny counted quickly in her head. "Including me, assuming everyone agrees, that's only eleven. What are you going to do for the twelfth month? Madam Hooch?"

At this, Colin turned bright red, and Dean and Seamus both made faces; Draco's coughing increased. "Er, no. George suggested either a group shot or one of four girls, one to represent each house."

"Alright," Ginny said with a shrug. "I'll do it, I guess. When do you need to take the picture?"

Colin checked a sheet of paper. "By this Friday, if you've got time."

Ginny nodded. "Will taking the picture at practice work for you, Colin? Otherwise, you can find me in the common room."

Colin scribbled this in the margin of his notes, and after a bit more discussion about the calendar, Ginny disengaged herself from the conversation, sliding the compartment door closed and turning to glare at Draco.

"What is your problem?" she demanded.

Draco had managed to rein in his amusement, but only just. "'The Girls of Hogwarts Quidditch?'" he mocked. "Oh, that's rich. I can't believe you agreed to do it, Gin."

"You're just jealous they're not doing a calendar that you can be in," Ginny huffed. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Or is it the fact that they asked Harry to finance it?" she asked perceptively.

Draco scowled at the mere mention of Harry's name, and Ginny wished she hadn't said anything. She and Draco were still on rather tenuous ground, post-reconciliation. "I'm sorry," she said. "Seems I can't say anything right today."

"Well, I'm really not in the mood for talking," Draco hinted, sliding open the door to a compartment that was blissfully vacant. He grinned mischeviously at her, and Ginny couldn't help but smile back, knowing exactly what he had in mind.

"Neither am I," she replied.

***

"Ji! How was your Christmas?"

Georgine turned, spotting her brother. As usual, he was accompanied by Damian and Laurana Godswift. She didn't understand the situation between Frédéric and Laurana- last she'd heard, they hated each other.

"It was good to be home," she said simply. She narrowed her eyes at her brother. "And yours?"

Frédéric grinned. "Laurana made my life a living hell," he said, turning to grin at the blonde fourth-year. "So it was fairly decent."

"That's nice," Georgine said, at a loss for words. She noticed that Frédéric's fingers were laced with Laurana's, and she felt a sharp pang. Was there nothing her twin would share with her anymore? Georgine thought of her best friend, Simone Dillavou, and the romance that had been budding between Simone and Frédéric. Had her brother forgotten everything of their old life? Of France? There were so many things about the trip home to Chateau Belleton that Georgine wanted to tell her twin, but she wondered if he would even care.

A sneaky glint appeared in Frédéric's eye, and he switched to French. "Est-ce que Maman m'a envoyé les cadeaux?" Did Mother send gifts for me? So that was all that mattered to him, then.

"A few," Georgine replied in English, frowning. "They're in my trunk. There's a letter from Honorine as well."

A shadow briefly crossed Frédéric's face, and Georgine hoped it was guilt. "Oh, good," he said quickly. He fidgeted from one foot to the other. "We're going to find a compartment- would you like to join us?"

Georgine shook her head. "No, thank you. I'm, ah, looking for Pansy. Have you seen her?"

They hadn't, but that was fine, as Georgine was actually looking for Harry. He wasn't too difficult to find; however, he was also inconveniently accompanied by his two best friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger. Georgine was actually a bit curious about those two- for all that they were supposedly Harry's nearest and dearest, he didn't mention them very often.

"Hello," she said, rapping lightly on the door to their compartment as she slid it open.

The three of them had had their heads bent together, and were so startled by the intrusion that they bumped foreheads, causing winces of pain and rueful smiles. "Hello, Georgine," Harry said, looking a trifle uncomfortable about chatting with her in front of Ron and Hermione. "How was your holiday?"

"Actually, that's what I need to talk to you about, Harry," she replied, glancing quickly at the other two. "Could I speak with you alone?"

Harry's brow furrowed, making his scar more pronounced, and Georgine noted, not without a twinge of pleasure, that she'd put him in a difficult position- did he go with her, implying to Ron and Hermione that he kept secrets from them, or did he invite her in, have her share her information, and admit that he in fact had been keeping secrets from them? There was a sigh as Harry gestured at the empty seat next to him. "Anything you have to say can be said here."

Hiding a smirk, Georgine took the seat. "How much do they know?" she asked Harry.

He hesitated, then sighed again. "Not enough. We'd best tell them everything."

Georgine chewed her bottom lip for a moment, then nodded. "Actually, Harry, I haven't been completely honest with you, either." She met his eyes, then looked at Ron and Hermione in turn. "And now that I think on it, perhaps it's best I tell all of you."

***

"What are you reading?"

Draco looked down at Ginny in surprise. "Didn't realize you were awake," he said. He and Ginny had stopped trying to devour each other about twenty minutes before, so he'd diverted his attention to the copy of the Daily Prophet he'd bought at the station. "It's an article about lode."

"About what?" Ginny yawned, wiggling a little so that she was snuggled closer to Draco.

"Lode," he repeated, draping an arm around her shoulders. "The drug."

"Don't know anything about it," Ginny said sleepily.

Draco frowned thoughtfully. "Suppose you wouldn't. As I said, it's a drug, with powerful addictive qualities. When my father and Professor Snape were Death Eaters-"

"Isn't your father still a Death Eater?" Ginny interrupted.

"There's no one to be a Death Eater for, Ginny. So, no. Do you want to know about this, or do you want to debate my father's moral code?"

Ginny, her eyes still closed, scowled. "Fine."

"In any case, all the Death Eaters took it."

"Why?"

"Because of what it can do. Inflicting pain- when you're on lode, it's like ecstasy."

Ginny's eyes flew open. "Please tell me you don't know this from firsthand experience."

"Oh, honestly, Ginny. No."

"So what's the article about?" Ginny asked, propping her feet on the seat opposite them.

"Well, right now it's discussing how it comes in a solid, rock form with powerful qualities of its own."

"Lodestone!" Ginny exclaimed. "I didn't know it had anything to do with drugs...."

"You're familiar with lodestone?" Draco asked, impressed. Ginny continually surprised him.

Glad she could show him that she wasn't completely clueless, Ginny nodded excitedly. "Magnetic properties, mainly. Overpowers even the most resistant materials."

"Yes. Including the human will to resist."

Ginny frowned. "I don't understand." The way Draco had phrased that sent chills trickling up and down her spine.

"Ginny, do you know the true history of the Death Eaters?"

***

Harry, Ron and Hermione all sat in stunned silence for a moment after Georgine finished her story. In essence, she'd told them everything she knew- about her father's connection to Lucius Malfoy and Voldemort, about the letters they'd made her write to Icarus, about her father's plans and the Muggle woman being kept in the Chateau Belleton dungeon, about the dragon pox. Nearly everything.

"Cousins," Ron repeated to himself. "We're cousins."

"Only very distantly," Hermione snapped, feeling that Ron wasn't really focusing on the important parts of Georgine's story. She turned to the younger girl. "If you don't mind, may I clarify? I want to be certain I understand."

Georgine nodded mutely, already half-regretting telling them. Hermione's brow was wrinkled in concentration, Ron kept saying the word "cousins" over and over, and Harry was just sitting sullenly, not meeting her gaze.

"With the fall of You-Know-Who here in Britain, there was a power vacuum within the ranks of the Dark wizards of Europe. One that your father and Lucius Malfoy hoped to fill together. Yes?"

Georgine nodded again. "That's what my older sister told me. She has Papa's confidence."

"Alright," Hermione said, ever succinct. "So your father and Mr. Malfoy have been working on this together for quite a while, but something that happened fairly recently- perhaps within the past few years- led your father to believe that Mr. Malfoy was no longer supporting him." She peered thoughtfully at Georgine. "But you have no idea what Mr. Malfoy might have done to make your father suspect him?"

"No," Georgine answered truthfully. She knew, now, that her father had stopped trusting Mr. Malfoy long before they met with him and Draco that day in Diagon Alley. But neither she nor Delphine had been able to ascertain why.

"In any case, you believe that your father and Mr. Malfoy are now competing for the attention of You-Know-Who, who was not destroyed last year, but is returning." Hermione was thoughtfully silent for a moment. "I knew he was somehow connected to the dragon pox, I just knew it!" she muttered to herself. "And now I understand."

"You do?" Harry, Georgine and Ron asked simultaneously. Georgine knew for certain that the dragon pox was related to Voldemort's return, and she even knew that her father, not Lucius, was the one who'd done the preparatory spells. But she had no idea how it worked.

"He's draining his victims through it," Hermione pronounced. "I've read about this in the Defense Against the Dark Arts text." She paused to frown at Harry and Ron. "So should have the two of you, actually, but I suppose you haven't. Anyway, there's a particularly nasty spell that allows a wizard to feed off the life forces of others by infecting them with an illness and then using the illness to drain off their strength." She shivered. "Which would explain why, even though Charlie and Professor Snape and I have discovered some temporary cures, no one is getting better."

"It would also explain why Charlie and Katie have frequent spells of weakness. That must be when he feeds," Ron mused. The other three turned to stare at him in surprise. "What?" he demanded. "I think about these things, too, you know."

Hermione smiled to herself; Ron's intelligence could be quite attractive when he actually bothered to exercise the muscle between his ears. "Ron's right," she said, giving him a quick look of appreciation that made him blush. "That makes quite a lot of sense." She took a deep breath. "So now the question is, how do we fight it?"

Everyone turned to look expectantly at Harry. "What?" he snapped irritably, rubbing at his forehead. "I didn't know any of this, alright? My scar hasn't bothered me since last year." He turned away, gaze fixed out the window. "I was preoccupied by other things...."

"Ginny," Georgine said. She felt a twinge of lingering guilt, because now she had to lie- lie about the identity of the Muggle woman in the dungeons, lie about what she knew of Ginny's actions this year. Georgine knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that her cousin wasn't culpable; Ginny hadn't had any contact with Voldemort since she was eleven years old. But Georgine planned to make Harry, Ron and Hermione think otherwise, because she had never in her life hated someone, not even the Delacour sisters, quite as much as she hated Ginny Weasley.

Harry's head swung around, and there was an ache in his eyes that Georgine had never seen in someone so young. "Yes," he whispered.

Georgine took a deep breath, prepared for the lie. "You have to give up on her, Harry. She- she's the one who's been spreading the dragon pox at school. I know you won't want to believe it, but it's the truth."

"How dare you say that about my sister?" Ron exploded. "I- she- it can't be!"

Hermione placed a soothing hand on Ron's arm. She and Harry shared a guilt-laden glance, then she said, "Actually, Ron, Harry and I have suspected Ginny for awhile, now." Ron's face turned bright pink, but to his credit, he was silent, listening to Hermione's words. "It all fits. Moaning Myrtle told Harry about seeing 'his girl' come to her bathroom to cast spells; Ginny hasn't been herself since she started dating Malfoy; Ginny has a history of possession by You-Know-Who...."

Ron opened and closed his mouth several times, clearly at a loss for words. He didn't want to believe it, but Hermione's logic was nearly irrefutable. And there was something else, too, something that he didn't want to mention, but that convinced him more than anything else. He had little to no memory of his own attack, but he did remember one thing- the girl who had attacked him had had dark eyes, and she was someone he trusted. Aside from Hermione, and he knew it hadn't been Hermione, he could only think of one person at Hogwarts who might fit that description- Ginny.

"I believe you," he whispered, looking at Georgine. She nodded, expression sad, and he felt a strange sort of shared understanding. He didn't know much about the Belleton twins, but he did know that Georgine and Frédéric weren't as close as they had been when they'd come from France- Frédéric had fallen in with Malfoy's Slytherin crowd, and his twin hadn't.

Hermione and Harry shared a look of pure relief, glad Ron had listened rationally. Hermione hesitated for a moment, then began to speak again. "There are still a few things I don't understand, though. Is Ginny working for your father, or for Mr. Malfoy? Who is Icarus, and how does he fit into this puzzle? And why hasn't Harry had any warning twinges from his scar?"

"That's a lot to answer," Georgine said, "buthink I can guess at some of it. Ginny isn't working for Papa or Mr. Malfoy; technically, she's serving the Dark Lord. Mr. Malfoy was probably the one to reconnect the bond between Ginny and Voldemort-"

"Don't say the name!" Ron interrupted.

"Sorry," Georgine said hurriedly. "Maybe he used Draco for that, I don't know. As far as Icarus, I have no idea. All I know is that I was to write him letters about you, Harry, because Vol- sorry, You-Know-Who- wants you kept out of all this. And I was supposed to include information about you and Ginny if I could, Ron, mainly because of Ginny, but also due to your friendship with Harry. But I honestly don't know who Icarus is or what he's meant to be doing." She stared at her hands for a moment. "I'm so sorry, Harry. I never should have done it."

Harry was silent, so Hermione answered for him. "It's alright, Georgine. What's important is that you've come to us with the truth." She hesitated. "Do you think it might be possible for us to somehow manipulate your letters to Icarus, give him misinformation and catch him out?"

Georgine struggled to hide her surprise. This Hermione girl was wickedly clever; almost dangerously so. "Perhaps," she said carefully. She was treading dangerous ground here, since she truly didn't know Icarus's identity. Delphine hadn't had a clue, either. Georgine thought about the Blood Ink that was carefully hidden in the lining of her trunk- fresh supply from the Muggle woman. Should she really tell these three about it? What would they think of her...? "It's something we can try later, maybe," she said evasively. Hermione nodded distractedly; with lightning speed, she'd already begun to mull over other aspects of the problem.

"And Harry's scar?" she prodded.

"That I can answer," Georgine said confidently, glad to be able to give them a solid answer. Hopefully, it would help her earn their trust. "Harry, it's not your fault- it's not that you've been distracted or careless. Papa and Lucius Malfoy have completely shut you out. Your connection with You-Know-Who has been forcibly severed."

"That can be done?" Harry blurted, forgetting that he was feeling a bit sullen.

Georgine nodded. "The spell requires an immense amount of energy and power, and it isn't permanent. But for the moment, yes- you're as blind to You-Know-Who's activities as any of the rest of us."

"Where did all that energy come from?" Hermione asked perceptively. Before Georgine could respond, though, Hermione's mouth quirked into a grim little smile. "No, don't answer that. It's the dragon pox victims, isn't it? Right now, all their energy is being channeled into that spell, which is why You-Know-Who hasn't returned; there's no spare energy left for his healing. But as more people fall ill, he begins to collect enough power to both restore himself and keep Harry out of his head. Yes?"

Georgine just stared. Hermione was a trifle on the frightening side- it was going to be more difficult to keep up with her than Georgine had imagined. "Something like that, yes, I believe so."

The four of them sat quietly for a moment, digesting all the new information. "Well," Ron said, rising from his seat, "I imagine there's only one thing to be done for it, then."

"What's that?" Hermione asked, looking at him in alarm.

"Pummel Malfoy until he begs for quarter," Ron replied grimly.

"Ron, sit down!" Hermione said, snatching at his hand before he could leave the compartment. "You're not going to do any such thing. First off, doing something like that in front of Ginny will only alienate her, and it might also let You-Know-Who know that we're aware of his plans. And secondly, we don't know for certain that Draco had anything to do with it." She hesitated. "Haven't we always suspected him, and haven't we always been wrong? Ron, you know I don't like Malfoy any better than you do, but we have to accept the fact that he's probably just a bully and a prat, not Hogwarts's primary source of evil-doing."

Ron glared at her, taking his seat only with great reluctance. "Just because he didn't know about his father's plans back in second year doesn't mean he doesn't know now, Hermione. He's sixteen, don't you think his father will eventually let him in on the family 'business?'" He pointed at Georgine. "Her father did."

There was a bit of silence as Hermione stared at her hands. Then she took a deep breath, looking both Ron and Harry in the eye. "Neither of you are going to like what I have to say, but I want you to listen anyway. I think Ginny, for reasons of her own, genuinely cares for Malfoy; I also think, in his own bizarre way, he has feelings for her, too." Hermione made a face as she remembered the contents of Draco's notes. "It's not the sort of relationship I'd want to be a part of, but I don't think that it's contrived or forced. And before you interrupt me, Ronald Weasley, no, I don't think Ginny's under a spell." Ignoring Ron's bright flush, Hermione continued. "I don't believe that they love each other yet, but I think that, given the chance, they actually might someday."

Hermione had expected Ron to respond first, loudly and with righteous indignation- his baby sister? Actually love Malfoy? Over his dead body!- but to her surprise, it was Harry who replied, his voice cold and steeled with venom.

"I don't know how you can think that, Hermione. How could Ginny ever love someone like him? She wasn't even capable of loving me." Harry stood and, pushing his way past Georgine and Ron, stormed out of the compartment.

Georgine stared after Harry, a quiet anger throbbing in time with her heartbeat. For what she had done to Harry- it was just one more reason to despise Ginny Weasley.

***

Ginny wriggled out of Draco's arms, turning to stare at him in incredulity. "You actually know it?" Part of her was terrified by how close her boyfriend and his family really were to the center of Voldemort's inner circle, but part of her thrilled to the knowledge.

"Well, perhaps not all of it, no," Draco admitted. "But I know how they were formed, and I know how the Dark Lord kept them under his power." He arched an eyebrow at her. "What have your parents told you? That my father is a Muggle-hating power-crazed maniac who just happened to slip the Ministry's leash?" He leaned closer to her, eyes flinty. "Because I'll have you know it's not true."

Ginny didn't want to confess that he was mostly right- she'd grown up believing that former Death Eaters like Lucius Malfoy had been clever enough to escape the Wizengamot's judgement by claiming they were under an Imperius curse; beyond that, she knew but little. "I- I don't really know the truth, Draco. Tell me."

Draco glanced away for a moment. "I will," he said finally. "But, Ginny, this information isn't the kind that's meant to be shared. Meaning that nothing leaves this compartment."

"I promise," she replied. He raised his eyebrows in brief derision but didn't respond; Ginny could tell he didn't quite believe her. "Draco," she said, gently turning his head so that he had to look her in the eye. "I promise."

He nodded curtly. "Contrary to what you might have heard, the Death Eaters didn't start at Hogwarts, and they weren't some clique of rich, misguided Slytherins with nothing better to do than wait hand and foot on Voldemort. First of all, Voldemort wasn't even at Hogwarts when my father was, since both of my parents are at least twenty years younger than he is.

"It started, in fact, with lode. My father and some of his friends- and yes, that does include Professor Snape- had just finished Hogwarts, and there wasn't much for them to do. The economy was bad, there weren't many jobs available, and any that were weren't the sort that suited a pureblood. From what my mother's told me, my father had just ended a bad relationship with some girl from Hogwarts, and supposedly she was a Mud- er, a Muggle-born."

Ginny knew she probably looked a fool with her mouth hanging open in surprise, but she was certain she'd misheard Draco. Lucius Malfoy had dated a non-pureblood girl? "What?" she asked eloquently.

Draco scowled. "Yes, you heard me properly. Apparently she was quite a bitch, just like Granger."

"Draco-" Ginny said warningly.

"Whatever," he replied. "Anyway, he was angry, and bored, and some of his friends were, too. So they started to experiment with lode. It got a bit out of hand, and they hurt a Muggle family. Badly." Draco wouldn't meet Ginny's eyes. "A little girl died."

Ginny's eyes widened in shock, and she swallowed hard around a lump that was developing in her throat. All of this Dark Arts business had been a bit of a game to her- yes, she'd been hurt by it, but she'd escaped, and now she liked to dance close to the fire. But what Draco was telling her- it wasn't a game anymore.

Draco was staring out the window, still avoiding Ginny's gaze. "Voldemort- well, then he was still just Tom Riddle- heard about what they'd done, and decided their goals meshed well with his own. He kept them supplied with lode, and eventually they became his Death Eaters. I imagine the name makes a bit more sense to you, now."

Ginny nodded numbly, not certain what she should say. To keep herself distracted, she asked another question. "But, Draco- what does this have to do with lodestone?"

"Voldemort fashioned a lodestone of his own, a very special one. Lode was one of its components, but there were other things, too, and a Dark spell to hold it all together. It was a L.O.D.E. stone."

"L.O.D.E.?"

"League of Death Eaters." With the short fingernails of his left hand, Draco was picking almost brutally at one of the cuticles on his right; anything, apparently, to avoid looking directly at Ginny. "Long before Voldemort invented the Dark Mark, he summoned them, and forced them to his will, with the L.O.D.E. stone." Draco finally dragged his eyes away from his hands, meeting Ginny's gaze with a bit of defiance. "So you can see why my father preferred to tell the Wizengamot that he was under the Imperius. And in a way, he was."

Ginny felt sickened. She knew Draco wanted her to sympathize with his father's story, but she couldn't bring herself to feel anything except disgust. To bring so much suffering into the world, to torture innocents, all because of a girl, because of a relationship that hadn't succeeded.... "What happened to the girl?" she whispered.

"The girl? I told you, she died." Ginny just shook her head mutely. "Oh, you mean the one my father dated?" Draco looked away again. "My mother told me she's dead. I don't really know what happened to her."

The compartment felt like it was moving faster than the train itself; Ginny could feel the walls rushing toward her. Something was nagging at her about this whole story, something even deeper than the horror she felt. Something that was connected to her own encounter with Voldemort. "Can you find out?" she asked.

"About the girl? Why?" Draco was looking at her like she'd lost her mind. "Ginny, why?"

"I don't know, I just need to know. Please, Draco. Please."

***

Narcissa Malfoy tore the gibbous moon pendant from her throat so roughly that it left a bright red streak on her throat. As soon as the vertigo of returning to her own body left her, she reached for the bell beside her bed, ringing it vigorously. One of the house elves scrambled into the room.

"Yes, Mistress Narcissa?"

"Fetch Master Lucius for me, and don't accept his excuses. I want him here now. Go!" The elf, terrified by the rage in his mistress's eyes, nearly sprinted from the room. Narcissa tossed the pendant on the bedside table, shaking partially from her fever, and partially with emotion.

"Oh, Draco, what have you done?"

***

The Beauxbatons carriage bounced to a stop in front of Chateau Belleton, and the gleaming white stallions that pulled it tossed their silvery manes and whickered, exhaling plumes of misty breath into the chilly winter air.

"You've packed everything?" Seraphine Belleton was calling to her children. "I don't want letters saying that things need to be sent from home...."

"Oui, Maman, we've packed it all," Celeste groused, shepherding Eliane and Honorine toward the carriage. Delphine was the last to load her things into the rear of the car, and was just about to board when a hand on her shoulder kept her back.

"Delphine."

"Yes, Papa?" she asked, turning to face her father.

"Did you tell Georgine all that I asked you to? Did you show her the woman?"

"Yes, Papa, I did just as you asked."

Nicodème Belleton smiled, gazing fondly at this daughter, his favorite child. Benoit was the eldest son, and would be his heir, but Delphine was his successor in all the ways that mattered. He leaned down to kiss her forehead. "Good girl."

***