The Violin: A Ginny/Draco Instrumental

1st of June, 2002

"Draco, get off me!"

Throughout the course of the night, Ginny and Draco's positions had changed exorbitantly. Draco was now sprawled across Ginny's lower half and the bottom of the bed. Her torso was curled around his head like a cat and her own head rested on Draco's left shoulder.

"Mmmph," he replied and buried his face into her hip.

With that she pushed him off the bed with all of her muscle, still heavy and uncoordinated from the after effect of alcohol, and he landed with a thud onto the hard wood floor. It creaked and cracked under his weight.

"Fuck!" yelled Draco this time more awake. He rubbed the back of his neck that had landed on and been stabbed by a plastic Muggle doll's outstretched arm.

"It's your own fault, you were supposed to be my pillow," said Ginny grumpily.

"How the hell do you even remember that?" Draco mumbled.

Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "That's about the only thing I remember," she paused. "No, wait. You said something about stars being named after you, I think." She grinned.

Draco cocked on eyebrow up then laughed bizarrely. "The constellation of Draco."

Ginny evidently disregarded his last comment and said, "My head hurts." She sounded awake but her actions said otherwise. She attempted to get up off the bed to grope for her wand but that proved to be too much for her sleep-deprived body and she slumped back down in defeat.

Draco, not one to usually be in a drunken stupor on the ground, dragged himself across the floor to his discarded robe with a wand drooping out of a side pocket. Ginny watched with interest but was too out-of-it to register what was going on or say anything.

Draco's hand wrapped around the wand gratefully and he tugged it out. The tip pointed at his right temple and he muttered, "Salix." His head stopped pounding and feeling like it was going to explode at any second and he sighed with relief. Draco turned the wand on Ginny and did the same. Her brain didn't feel fogged anymore and her limbs moved more accessibly though still a little sluggishly.

"I'm going down for some breakfast," Ginny announced to no one in particular. She would have offered him food but she still wasn't thinking clearly.

She had reached the door before noticing Draco wasn't going anywhere. "Well?" she asked. "Aren't you coming with me?"

He was still laying face down on the floor apparently too tired or lazy to move. He opened his mouth to respond but instead got a mouthful of dust bunnies that caused an uncontrollable coughing fit.

"Don't your parents ever clean this place?" mumbled Draco.

"They don't feel like trying to get past the spells Fred and George put on this room to keep Mum away," smirked Ginny.

She still remembered when she'd finally convinced them to help her. She was attending Hogwarts so she couldn't technically do magic and they had left only a few months before. To this day they used it as an excuse, too, whenever they needed something for not being fully paid back in the agreement.

"Besides," Ginny added, "no one uses the room anyway."

She still stood at the door way staring down at Draco with her hands on her hips. Draco's arms shuddered under the pressure but obliged to lifting him up off the dusty floor anyway.

"I'll meet you down there," mumbled Draco. He picked up a small mirror laying on a dresser and began to fix his hair from the rough night.

Ginny shrugged and started for the stairway. The smell of cooking bacon and eggs wafted up to her nose and she sniffed gratefully. Her mum's cooking was exactly what she needed right now.

The table had already been set to feed eight people; the Weasleys excluding Bill and Charlie who had Apparated back to work late last night and Draco. Molly was hovering above a basket of eggs that cracked themselves into a pan on the stove one at a time and discussing the finer points of the Ministry with Percy.

"Mr. Bartly says my last report was excellent. He's thinking of promoting me, though I could hardly expect such a nice thing from him, even if my work has greatly improved."

"Percy, my boy, it's time you started propelling yourself in the Ministry. You can't work under people all the time, you know," said Arthur.

Percy nodded in agreement. "I quite agree, father, but right now the Ministry needs me where I am."

Molly wiped up a bit of egg goo and said, "Following in his father's footsteps."

Ron covered his mouth in a horrified and awkward manner when he caught site of a dishevelled Ginny trudging down the stairs. Her father had his own face hidden behind a copy of the Daily Prophet and a steaming mug of hot coffee.

"Ginny, dear!" said Molly suddenly, discreetly taking into account her only daughter's appearance. "You got another owl from the Orchestra."

"I did?" asked Ginny stupidly.

The envelope Ginny was handed looked less formal then the one yesterday but still bore the moulded wax symbol of a musical note to hold it shut. Ginny silently tore open the letter - less eager this morning to see what it had to say. Maybe it's a rejection letter, her mind thought tiredly, that wouldn't surprise me. Her shoulders relaxed in relief to see it was only a list of practice dates and -

"International performances?" Ginny choked.

"Well you could hardly expect a well-known orchestra like that to only play in Europe, could you? Honestly, Ginny." Percy glanced over Ginny's shoulder with a bemused look on his face.

"Well I...oh, shut up, Percy!" yelled Ginny, louder then she'd meant to.

Percy raised an eyebrow, not impressed with Ginny's lame comeback. Still glaring at her brother, Ginny slumped into a chair letting her hangover take control.

"Oh Ginny, you look peckish. Have a spot of bacon, will you?" Molly fussed.

Ginny, still half way down the chair, began to rub the temples of her forehead to ease the throbbing pain that had sprang up. What was that spell Draco used? she asked herself. Slacks? Sorix? Salix!

"Mum, where's my wand?" Ginny mumbled, her words blending in with the mouthful of coffee she'd gratefully swished around in her mouth.

"Oh, so it was your wand?" Ron pulled the long wooden object from a trouser pocket.

Well, duh, Captain Obvious.

"I found it stuck between a stair. What were you and Malfoy - er, Draco - doing last night?" he mumbled disapprovingly then turned red for asking.

"Ron!" Molly reprimanded. Ginny flinched from the sudden raise of voices. Ron still hadn't given her wand back and her head was throbbing even worse. He breathed hard through his nose and threw the wand across the table. It landed in Ginny's lap.

Draco ambled down the stairs, still half asleep, a few minutes later much to Ron's annoyance.

"Ginny," said Molly, placing a plate in front of Draco habitually, "when's your first practice session? We've got a bit of Floo powder if you need to go that way."

Ginny scanned the letter that she still hadn't properly read her way through and sipped her strong black coffee in silence.

"It says," she took a bite of toast before continuing, "I can get there by Floo or Portkey. The closest one is in Surrey."

Molly interrupted, "Well there's no point in going that way, Surrey's much too far away, you can go by Floo. Arthur, have we got enough powder?"

Her father nodded, still reading the Daily Prophet. He looked tired and overworked, the Ministry had been busy all month and they hadn't given him a holiday in Merlin knows how long. Ginny sighed and continued. "The first practice is next week, in London."

"You can stay here for the week, it will only be your Father and I. You can use your old room to sleep in, Draco you're welcome to stay as well." It was more of an order then a suggestion. Even at twenty-one, Molly still fussed over her youngest child and wanted to make sure Ginny got to London safely.

Draco's face had contorted into a look of horror before he objected. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he forced, "but I really should be getting back to the Ministry. There's been an uproar of illegal dragon egg trading -"

Arthur frowned at the mention of the Ministry. The clock in the living room struck nine and he promptly stood up to Disapparate.

"Well, Weasleys," he said. "Really must be getting to work. I'll see what I can do about the Portkey, Ginny, it would be much easier and less messy." He winked at her good naturedly. Ginny hugged him good-bye.

"Try not to be late tonight, Arthur dear, I'm making a special dinner for Ginny and I don't want it cold when you get back," said Molly, hugging him as well.

He nodded and vanished quietly.

"Yes, well," Molly turned to Ginny, "best be off to make sure you've got everything, Ginny. I'll send an Owl home for you if you've forgotten anything."

8th of June, 2002

"Have a good trip, dear." Molly hovered over Ginny, straightening out her robes and hair.

"I will, mum," replied Ginny.

"Have you got everything? Your violin? Don't forget your violin! It's very important, Ginny!"

"Yes, mum, I have it."

"Remember to put the locking charm on the case."

"I know, mum."

"And don't talk to strangers, unless they're in the Orche -"

"Molly!" said Arthur. His hands grasped Molly's shoulders to pull her away, then drew Ginny in for a tight hug. "Be careful," he whispered.

The flames of the Floo powder nipped at her feet and hair. The ash made its way into her mouth when she softly said, "Madrigal Symphony Orchestra!"

Ginny tried to keep her eyes open to see the blurs of families as she passed, but the combination of her hair whipping around and the pure adrenaline rush kept her eyes shut in eager impatience.

The soles of her feet slammed into the floor first, sending her staggering out of the fireplace. A woman with whispy black hair, who looked to be in her mid thirties, quickly stepped forward to wring Ginny's hand excitedly.

"You must be," she paused to look at a long list of names she held, "Ginny Weasley! Yes, I'd recognise the hair any day. Welcome to the Orchestra."

Ginny smiled politely and set her violin down to move the trunk that still sat peacefully amid the embers. It was covered with soot and slightly burnt around the edges from the flames but you could still make out the vivid initials GW on the front.

"Let me take that for you," she said. "I'm Alice, by the way."

Ginny opened her mouth to ask if she was in the orchestra as well when Alice interrupted. "I'm no musician, I just co-ordinate the practices. You'd be amazed how hard it is to find a place, these days. Of course, we had to add on a bit to the building so everyone would have a place to sleep, but that's all hidden from Muggles so they don't know a thing. Bless the Muggles though, there are some nice ones. The mayor happily obliged to telling the public the cathedral was under routine cleaning so they can't visit it. Makes it much easier for us to walk about without people sticking their noses in our business..."

Ginny nodded as if she were listening but she was quietly taking in her surroundings with inaudible gasps. There were windows fashioned in stained glass with elegant female angels, their hands reaching up to the untouchable heavens above. There was a recurring pattern of blondes and brunettes dressed in purples, reds, and greens and tight fitting dresses. Many of them had their hair in crowns of diamonds and pearls, as well. One window, however, looked oddly out of place. It was normal looking enough but when Ginny passed it and saw Muggle citizens walking in front of it on the other side she couldn't help but notice that they hardly seemed to register she was there.

Alice and Ginny passed several more windows like that one before Ginny got the courage to say anything.

"Why can't they see us?"

Alice, who had been in the middle of a speech about the conductor, stopped abruptly then continued again answering Ginny's question. "The windows are charmed so we can see out but the Muggles can't see in. It stops them from asking questions of why people are inside the building."

"Oh," said Ginny.

Alice immediately began talking again.

"As I was saying, Mr. Chion is a bit hard once and awhile, but he really is good at his job. He's won maestro of the year three times in a row, so that says something. But no one will ever listen to me when I tell them how wonderful he is. Fools, in my opinion..."

Ginny fixed her gaze upon the high vaulted ceilings of the building and the old and ugly gargoyle statues that looked even more old and ugly against the stained glass windows. At one point Ginny knocked right into a statue that threatened to tip over from the blow.

She rubbed her stomach gingerly where the hunched creature's hand had hit the hardest but continued to follow Alice, who continued to chat merrily as if nothing had happened.

They passed a few rooms where groups of women and a sparse count of men huddled together to discuss arrangements of players. Ginny listened eagerly but Alice was walking too fast for her to catch more then drifts of words.

A sign stuck out on a hallway corner reading "Third chair violinists" where, Ginny assumed, her room would be. She noticed, too, that the occupants of the rooms they passed down this corridor were much closer to her age then the others.

The door to the room Ginny would be staying in swung open uneasily on its hinges, making loud creaking noises from the rust.

"Well," announced Alice, flinging Ginny's heavy trunk lightly on an unoccupied bed, "here we are! It's not much but you're welcome to change it to fit your tastes. Mind, there are others sharing the room but they're all older and probably won't care too much."

Ginny thanked Alice before the older woman left, then resolved to practising alone while she still had the chance. She could hear footsteps and Alice's voice echoing in the conjoining halls outside her door but chose to ignore them and drown the sound out with a high pitched E note.

Ginny amused herself for a good portion of an hour or two, after breaking her resolution for more practice, by wandering around the building admiring the medieval architecture. She was stunned when she spotted Colin Creevey speaking in low, excited tones with a flute player but didn't say anything as she walked by. Ginny wasn't sure Colin would even recognise her, the last time they'd talked was the summer after seventh year.

"Miss Weasley!" Alice was advancing at an alarming speed, huffing loudly and going red in the face from lack of oxygen. "The conductor is having me gather up the violinists," she said. Alice stopped in front of Ginny to bend over, with her hands on her knees, trying to catch her breath.

"Are you all right?" asked Ginny nervously.

"Yes, yes, quite all right!" Alice dismissed the girl's outstretched hand.

"You're all scheduled first, in ten minutes. You will find the practice room down the hall and to your right, there's a big sign."

"A big sign" was an understatement. It was more of a huge banner, taking up the width of the door and at least a fourth of the height, with flashing, neon green letters spelling "Practice Area".

In comparison, it was nothing close to the room inside. Hundreds of chairs were facing in Ginny's direction, most of them filled by fellow violinists or blocked by music stands.

Black notes floated and hung in the air as if being pulled by invisible strings then scattered by a blow of wind coming from the dispersed fans in the corners of the room.

Witches and wizards alike tuned their instruments in what could only be described as graceful elegance. Ginny was used to seeing violins tuned with a wand but she welcomed the change as something new and fun to watch. The strings being played at the moment, though not all the same, melded together under the beige ceiling to produce a tune never heard before. The musicians' souls, sweat, and blood had been poured into this melody unknowingly by the song's victim.

This is what music really is, what it should be, thought Ginny. Pure, raw, and full of emotion.

She stood, motionless, with the handle of her violin case grasped tightly in her palm, to take in the scene creating itself right before her wide eyes like a starved kitten.

"You must be Virginia." It was more of a statement then a question.

The speaker was a man of average proportion with a horrible comb-over of blonde hair slicked down by at least a tub of gel.

"Yes." Ginny stuck her free hand out but he ignored it and continued on in a rude fashion.

"You will be playing third chair, alongside Miss Clearwater and Mr. Lian."

His eyes narrowed at the sight of her expensive violin case and judged every word she didn't speak. Ginny decided she didn't like the man much, and only hoped their interaction would be limited. She wondered, too, if the Miss Clearwater he mentioned was Percy's ex-girlfriend.

"Thank you, Mr.," she paused. "Chen?"

"Chion," he corrected.

She started to apologise when Mr. Chion stalked off to yell at a older man for knocking over the director's podium.

Ginny made a beeline for the chair with the word "Weasley" hovering over it. The name tag looked lonely sitting in the air. It was a dull brownish gold set with black letters and it slowly rotated around in circles.

She was dismayed to see Mr. Lian was much older then she had been hoping, more in the range of late thirties then around her age. He nodded in her direction as a way of greeting then went back to scanning the pages of music he was trying to master. Miss Clearwater, who would be playing first chair, still wasn't there. Ginny busied herself, something she had been doing a lot of lately, with shuffling through papers absentmindedly while keeping a watchful eye on the people around her.

The man who had directed Ginny to her seat earlier now stood on the podium in front of the sea of musicians and tapped lightly on the wood with a long, thin, flexible rod. The rod instantly muted all sound except for his voice which boomed and echoed throughout the room.

"Welcome stringed instrument players to the first practice session of the season! You will please take notice that many of the first chairs are absent, but they will be with us shortly. For now, the parts originally played by them will be done so with charmed violins. If you will turn to page eleven in The Book of Tvagdi, we will begin."

The sound of papers shuffling reverberated in the huge room, sounding like a huge nest of angry bees. Ginny wasn't even sure what she was supposed to do. No one had given her any direction or instruction and it didn't look as if anyone was about to. Would they play like a round robin? Or do solos? Or as one big group? Ginny tried to casually lean over and ask Lian but the director's pseudo-wand was raised in the air and her violin shuddered with excitement.

Almost without thought, Ginny brought it up to her chin and let the instrument guide her through the music. In the throng of other violins being played, her own seemed to give no ill effect to the others in the room which opened a flood gate of relief on Ginny's part.

The director, who acted more friendly in front of a large audience, led the group in a series of round robins then one by one picked individuals to play a solo piece. Each time it looked as though he would chose her Ginny's hands began to sweat with anticipation and pure nerves and her heart felt like it would burst but every time he would hesitate then choose someone else.

"Miss.." Mr. Chion's eyes would scan the crowd. Thump thump thump. Ginny tried to quiet the pounding by breathing slowly. "Lestar?" Her shoulders would slump and her heart would slow.

An hour into the practice the only door to the auditorium swung widely open and a long line of tired looking witches and wizards filed down the aisles. One by one they took their seats as first chairs. Ginny meant to say a quiet hello to Penelope, if it happened to be her, but when she got a look she wasn't sure who it was.

The woman, Ginny presumed to be in her mid to late twenties, had ear length brown hair. On the woman's nose sat a pair of black rimmed glasses with thick bifocals. She dressed more like an old lady, her shoulders draped with a black shawl and wearing an ankle length brown skirt, then someone would at her age.

Ginny turned away and focused on the music in front of her.

After the second hour, they were dismissed from the room. Ginny again tried to get a better look at Miss Clearwater but she had Apparated in silence. She instead found Colin, who had grown considerably since she last saw him, and accompanied him to dinner being held in a smaller area. The walls were charmed to shimmer in different colours, set with over zealous striped stars dancing across the tables and onto people's heads.

Another surprise awaited Ginny, and a few other ex-Hogwarts students, when they discovered the food system was much like it had been at their previous school. She wondered if there were house elves, like there had been at Hogwarts, or if it was just a spell.

There was an awkward pause between Ginny and Colin as they hugged. Ginny flushed and took a seat at the end of a table.

"I can't believe how much you've changed, Colin," Ginny confessed. He was so well behaved and calm.

"With age comes wisdom," he replied simply.

Ginny blinked. Did he just say what she thought he said?

"I suppose so," she stammered.

Colin smiled warmly at her, fidgeting when Ginny's hand brushed his reaching for a salad fork. Ginny listened in on a debate between a few celloists, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of lettuce.

"Well, Ginny, it's been lovely talking to you," said Colin in the break of the discussion, "but it looks as though it's time for the flute players to begin. Can we catch up another time?" He cleared away his plate with a wave of the wand.

She took a deep breath; he smelled like clovers and mint, and nodded quietly. She hit herself on the forehead for being so stupid once he left. This was Colin Creevey, the boy who liked to take pictures of Harry Potter and was always so excited to learn new magic. Now he acted as if he'd done it all his life and it were merely just an aid in his everyday living.

It didn't feel right. That interaction. It was almost as if someone was just wearing Colin's skin and doing a very poor job at trying to act like him. She suppressed an eerie shudder. Thinking about it gave her the same feeling that she felt the first time she'd used the new violin. Utterly creepy.

"Kill Harry Potter." The voice was high pitched and made the others around it shudder. "The girl, too." He walked around in silence, leering and jeering at the men and lone woman who gathered in a circle around him. The moon cast a glow on his hairless head and lit up his red-tinged eyes.

"But, my Lord, why the girl? She is of no important to us." That was Draco. Draco was no longer standing with the circle but had broken free, to stand in front of Voldemort as he addressed him. He was talking to Lord Voldemort! Ginny wanted to scream for him to get away, to save himself, but her lungs felt collapsed in on themselves. All she could do was watch helplessly with paralysed limbs.

"I want no witnesses," replied Voldemort. "Bring me their heads when you're done. They will look lovely hanging over a fireplace."

He laughed loudly and, slowly, the others began to laugh too. Uncertain laughs masked with terror and a hunger for power. But how many of those appetites for control would be satiated once Harry Potter was dead? Too many, thought Voldemort.

"My Lord." It was Colin. Colin, get away! Ginny wanted to scream. To run to him and push him aside before Voldemort decided to kill him. She was confused. Why was he here? Why had he address Voldemort as My Lord? Colin was standing in front of the older wizard, Draco taking his place back in among the circle of followers.

Colin's upper body was bare. Scars ran down his chest and back, and a skull tattoo with a snake curling out of its mouth was glowing a bright green on his forearm. He looked beaten and worn, like an old favourite shoe a child refused to get rid of. The curious smile that once plastered itself across his face was long gone.

"What about the Weasley girl?" he asked timidly. He was too frightened to raise his voice much higher then a whisper.

Voldemort smiled. It was a thin lipped cruel smile, but one nonetheless. His arms left his side and curled around Colin's shoulders to bring him into a fatherly embrace.

"Yes, the Weasley girl. Draco is taking care of it, my dear boy. Soon you can have her head as well, I will have no use for it. But you must be patient, it will take years. Draco will have to do it quietly, discretely, he will build trust among the Malfoys and the Weasleys, then you will have her head."

Colin was bowing. He got down on his hands and knees to kiss the shoes of Voldemort. No, Ginny thought. No, this is a dream. It's not real. Draco would never do this. He loves me. And Colin. Colin was good, he would never go over to the Dark Lord. What reason did he have? He had none! she yelled into the emptiness.

"Once Harry is destroyed the world will get better for us, boys. We will have to bide our time still, yes, but we won't worry ourselves with the little prat any longer. I will have his head!

Ginny's screams were muffled by her pillow that had been stuffed into her mouth. A cold sweat broke out over her entire body, sending her muscles into spasms. It was just a dream. Just a dream.