Stiletto

Stiletto

______________________

January 26

She smiled, running her fingers lightly over the brass nameplate that had just recently been affixed to her desk. Virginia Weasley, Psychological Specialist, St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, it read. Very nice. She was going to like this job.

Ginny had a meeting with Harry Potter today. His team of Aurors had been tracking a group of particularly violent Death Eaters, and they had managed to bring in four of them yesterday. It would now be Ginny's task to question them in the hopes of squeezing out more information. But before she could see the Death Eaters, Harry had to give her a quick briefing.

Closing her office door, Ginny walked down the hallway, enjoying the sharp "click, click" of her five-inch stiletto heels on the tile. Her lover had once told her that the sound the shoes made was "victim, victim." He said that she'd never be able to defend herself in those shoes.

But Draco had changed his mind after seeing her fatally impale one of their more recalcitrant sources with one of her stiletto heels. Now he never said a word about her taste in footwear. Hell, he'd even paid for her newest Manolo Blahniks, a snazzy little custom-made pair of snakeskin slingbacks that made her legs look absolutely to die for.

Ginny liked that particular pun.

Suppressing a wicked smile, she slipped into the hospital's fifth-floor conference room. Unsurprisingly, Harry was already there, pacing in front of the window. He looked like he'd had a rough night- his shirt was untucked and the buttons weren't properly aligned. Even from across the room, Ginny could see the beads of sweat that lined his brow, and the dark rings under his eyes.

"Hello, Harry," Ginny said pleasantly, pitching her voice slightly lower than normal.

Normally cool under fire, with his battle experience and his intense Auror's training, Harry still managed to look like a lost little boy whenever Ginny stepped into a room. "Ginny, love," he said in greeting, bending down to kiss her cheek. "Why don't you have a seat so we can discuss things?"

"Certainly," she replied comfortably, settling herself in a plain folding chair. Ginny smiled. "So, who did you pull in this week?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said evasively. He had taken the seat across from her, but he refused to look into her eyes. "I've decided you're not taking this case. It's not safe for you."

"Two days on the job and I'm already sacked?" Ginny asked, a teasing lilt in her tone. She leaned forward, letting her left hand graze lightly along Harry's thigh. "You've already done the dangerous part of catching them," she purred, "so surely I'm perfectly safe if I have you to protect me?"

Harry flushed, but his expression remained firm. "You're not working on this one," he repeated.

She recoiled, mouth twisted into a flirtatious pout. "Then why ask me to come down here?"

"Where were you on Thursday night, Ginny?"

Oh. So that was what he was so upset about. Ginny had been seeing Harry for about six months now, off and on, but she had refused to commit to anything. As far as she could tell, her nonchalance only made Harry want her more, and it was the sweetest sort of victory imaginable. Retribution for when she'd been merely "Ron's baby sister."

"I was busy," she replied, shrugging. "Harry, you're not keeping me off this case just because you're mad about Thursday, are you?" In one fluid motion she was on his lap, hips flush against his, her warm breath caressing his neck. "Because if you are, perhaps I can make it up to you."

Harry's green eyes locked on hers, filled with lustful hope. Ginny nodded, and within moments she was sandwiched between him and the conference table, his skin searingly hot against her own. Distracted by her own thoughts, she was only dimly aware of him whispering in her ear; swimming to the surface of her consciousness, Ginny struggled to understand what Harry was saying to her.

"... I love you, Ginny," he was repeating, over and over. "I know things haven't been the best for us, but I'll try harder, I promise you that..."

Ginny muffled her laughter against Harry's bare shoulder, hoping he interpreted it as a caress instead. Harry would never change, poor fool. It was his fault she'd gotten involved with Draco Malfoy in the first place. ...

***

She'd been walking down the Potions hallway when she heard suppressed giggling, and the source was visible just as soon as she rounded the corner: Harry Potter pushed up against the stone wall of the corridor, hands slipped underneath Lavender Brown's robes.

It had stung, stung so sharply, because last week Harry had been with Parvati, and the week before it was Susan Bones, and Lisa Turpin before that ... and Ginny knew she was better, better than all of them, but Harry never seemed to see. ...

She had ducked into the first available classroom, eyes blurred with angry tears. "Fucking bastard," she murmured to herself as the door clicked closed behind her.

"No need to be so scathing, Weasley. I've never done anything to you," said a cool, taunting voice, one Ginny recognized immediately.

"Go to hell, Malfoy," Ginny replied. Insulting Malfoy was a knee-jerk reaction, and she needed to lash out at someone. "In fact, don't just go. Stay there permanently. Work on your tan."

Draco seemed unfazed. "You're pretty when you're angry," he said dryly.

The rage drained out of her, and she swallowed hard around the diminishing lump in her throat.

Later, she learned that it was easy to banish thoughts of Harry. All she needed was Draco's mouth pressed against hers.

***

Bizarrely, they had stayed together- Ginny would go to him whenever she was angry with Harry, and Draco, a typical teenage boy, certainly never refused her.

Eventually, she sought him even when she wasn't livid with Harry. She noticed the change in herself immediately, but she didn't know whether Draco did; he just accepted whatever she gave him. If she snuck into the showers with him after a Quidditch match, he was pleased, but he never seemed upset when she didn't.

Harry finally noticed her. She was in the Gryffindor common room, hunched over a nasty Arithmancy essay, when Harry, irritated by Ron and Hermione's flirtatious bickering, leaned over and tugged on a lock of Ginny's hair. "Hey. Gin."

In spite of herself, she was thrilled to have him notice her. "Yeah?" she replied, hoping she didn't sound desperate.

"Want to take a walk with me around the pitch?"

Ginny's heart started to beat faster. She knew exactly what Harry had planned- this was a part of his routine. It was silly, after all she'd done with Draco, to get hot and bothered by the idea of merely kissing Harry, but she'd had him on a pedestal for so long....

"Alright," she replied shakily. "Let's go." Ron, distracted by Hermione, didn't even notice his baby sister exit through the portrait hole with his rakish best friend.

"Why me, Harry?" Ginny asked him when the were outside, hidden in the shadow of the Ravenclaw stands.

"There's something different about you now, Gin," Harry replied, seemingly entranced by the movements of her mouth. "You're sexier than you used to be."

Ginny wanted to laugh at the irony of his words, at his lack of finesse. It struck her in that moment- Harry was no Draco Malfoy. Suddenly bored by him, she pressed herself against his body, hoping to gain something from this little encounter.

But Harry was no Draco Malfoy.

When Ginny and Harry broke it off a week later, none of the Gryffindors were surprised; Harry's trysts never lasted very long. But only Harry and Ginny knew that she had been the one to end it. Ginny had learned her lesson, and she went back to Draco.

"Is this some kind of fucking game, Weasley?" he had growled. Ginny just stared at him, deadpan, and Draco let her in like he always did; Crabbe, Goyle, and the other seventh-year Slytherin boys were sent packing for the afternoon.

She lay next to him, tracing her nail along the ridges in his abdominal muscles because she knew it annoyed him. "Can't refuse me, can you, Malfoy?" she teased idly.

He glared at her, and she could tell, from the irritation radiating from him, he knew full well that she was correct- he was like putty in her hands.

"I finally have something of my own," she whispered, rolling on top of him. And it was true. Draco wasn't a hand-me-down; she'd been his first, and oddly, he was faithful to her. He was shiny and new and every scrap of him belonged to Ginny. Smiling with sweet satisfaction, she nuzzled against him, content with her new acquisition.

***

After leaving Hogwarts, Draco had gone to work for Voldemort, but the Dark Lord wouldn't accept him into the ranks of the Death Eaters.

"You son reeks of Gryffindor, Lucius," Voldemort hissed to his right-hand servant at a meeting, two years after Draco first started working with the Death Eaters. "I won't have him."

Overhearing the words, Draco had related them to Ginny, who saw her opportunity. "Ask if they'll take both of us," she suggested.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. "You're serious."

"Quite." Ginny certainly didn't want to throw her weight behind Harry and her brother, and this would be her chance to prove herself to them. Besides, she didn't intend to lose Draco. She loved him; or at least, her feelings were a perverse approximation of that elusive emotion. She certainly enjoyed possessing him.

"You know what they'll ask you to do, don't you?"

Ginny nodded. "Infiltrate."

"Ginny-"

"I told you I'd do it," she snapped. A week later, Draco took the Dark Mark, his Ginny by his side.

***

"You're not doing it, Ginny," Draco had told her six months ago. "Not like this. I don't want you anywhere near him."

She tugged a plain black T-shirt on over her head. "Why, Draco," she said sweetly, "are you jealous of Harry Potter?"

Draco said nothing, but Ginny could see his jaw clench. She locked her eyes on his.

"I'm doing this whether you like it or not."

He was the one who looked away first.

***

"He's in cell three, awaiting transfer to Azkaban," Harry said reluctantly, eyeing Ginny as she buttoned her blouse. "I'll go in with you."

"You certainly will not. I'll call you if I need you, but you are going to wait outside the door." Ginny shot Harry a withering look. "How do you expect Malfoy to talk if you're in there? Honestly. Is he guarded by a dementor?"

Harry shook his head, a nauseated expression passing over his features. "One is scheduled to arrive from Azkaban this evening."

"Well, I'm ready," Ginny said, smoothing her skirt. "Let's finish this."

Harry reached for her elbow, stopping her from opening the door. "Ginny, before you go- what I said when we- that is, I- I meant it. I promise you we can make this work."

A promise from Harry wasn't worth the paper it was printed on. Ginny knew he thought he loved her- she could see it in the earnest expression in his eyes. But she also knew that he wouldn't be able to stay true to her; it wasn't in his nature. Harry was a hand-me-down, worn and discarded.

Forcing a smile, Ginny hoped desperately that it came off as sincere. "We'll just have to see, won't we?" she replied lightly, struggling to maintain a serious mien. She could hardly bear the knowledge that Draco was in the building- and she was stuck up on the fifth floor with Harry. Six months without her Draco had been torturous, and Harry was a cheap substitute. "Let's go," she said firmly, picking up her attaché case.

Harry nodded, doggedly following her out the door and down the stairs. "That one," he said, indicating cell three in case Ginny couldn't read the label for herself.

"Thanks," she said wryly, muttering the incantations that would allow her past the locking spells. "I'll call you in if I need you."

Harry nodded again, just a little too eagerly. His glowing, sated expression made Ginny's stomach roil, but she forced herself to reach a hand up to his cheek.

"I won't be long," she murmured, letting her nails drag not-so-softly over his skin. "I promise." Withdrawing her hand, she entered Draco's cell.

It was dark in the cell, and even before her eyes adjusted so that she could see Draco, she could feel him against her. "Ginny," he whispered hoarsely in her ear, his hands already starting to work their magic on her skin. "How long do we have?"

"Long enough for you to give me what I want."

***

Thirty minutes later, the cell door slid open, and Ginny motioned to Harry. "Could you help me?"

Harry jumped to his feet. "Of course." His brow furrowed- Ginny looked strangely shorter than she had when she entered the cell.

No sooner had the door slid shut behind them than Draco hit Harry with a fatal hex from his spare wand, which had spent the last six months masquerading as one of the heels of Ginny's shoes. Wasting no time, Ginny snapped open her briefcase, fetching three phials of liquid. She handed one to Draco. "Add one of his hairs, and give me one of yours," she commanded. The other two potions, one labeled "Polyjuice," and the other labeled "Permanency," she forced down Harry's throat, smiling with sadistic pleasure as the corpse of her former crush morphed into Draco's clone. "Good." Ginny looked up at Draco; she only knew it was him because of the way he held himself. Otherwise, he was the mirror image of Harry.

"Slump your shoulders a little," she advised, changing her shoes for a normal pair of flats that had been tucked inside the attaché case. As a final touch, Ginny mussed her hair, tore her blouse, and forced her eyes to tear up. "Well, 'Harry,'" she said, voice laden with acerbic sarcasm, "are you ready?"

***

January 27

Taking a sip of her coffee, Hermione Weasley passed the morning edition of The Daily Prophet across the breakfast table to her husband. "Can you believe the news?" she asked, indicating the front page headlines.

"Infamous Death Eater Attacks St. Mungo's Employee: Young Woman Rescued By Harry Potter," Ron read aloud. He scanned the rest of the article, shaking his head. "Harry's just always saving Gin's neck, isn't he?" he asked ruefully.

Hermione was about to reply when the doorbell chimed. "Who could it be, this early in the morning?" she mused aloud, rising to answer it. The corners of her eyes crinkled with pleasure. "Ginny, Harry! How good to see you! Ron and I were just reading about your latest adventure in the Prophet."

Ginny smiled, her eyes lifting to meet those of the man next to her. "I'm sure we have many more ahead of us, Hermione," she replied.

***

The Daily Prophet, February 2

The bodies of Mr. and Mrs. Ronald Weasley were found today in the kitchen of their Devonshire home. Death Eater activity is suspected but not yet confirmed by the Ministry. In a related case, the younger sister of the late Mr. Weasley, one Virginia Weasley, has been reported by her family as missing. Ministry officials declined to comment on either case.

***