An Ideal Death-Eater

Authour's Notes:

I'd like to thank Claire and Alexis, as usual, for their fabulous work beta reading. I love you girls. And my faithful reviewers, of course. Both Draconia and Tegan have submitted some fanart for chapters 12 and 15. If you'd like to see them, they're in the files section at my yahoogroup.

On Draco's first day back at Hogwarts, Pansy Parkinson had turned his charming offer of a quick tumble down flat and it had ruined his entire week, especially considering that none of the other females in his house would touch him, either. The little squash-nosed bitch was on the same side as every other Slytherin. At least they hadn't done anything other than hurl insults and leave nasty presents in his bed. Yet.

Draco didn't feel the need to explain his actions to his housemates; after all, self-preservation was certainly a Slytherin trait. For some reason, though, they didn't seem to remember that. Then again, it could have been the fact that half of them now had fathers in Azkaban. The Ministry had even raided the Bulstrode estate in Chalfont St Peter, which was not far from his own home, even though the Bulstrodes had had the remarkable sensibility to not get involved in Voldemort's mess.

So here he was, trudging through the halls with only ten minutes left before curfew. He'd been having difficulty sleeping for ages and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had a descent night's rest. A book would have to take the place of sleep and, if he was lucky, a nice boring one would send him straight out.

As he rounded the corner, he saw a familiar redhead walking out of the library with a couple of rolls of parchment in her hand. Draco smirked to himself. If he couldn't sleep anyway, he may as well have some fun.

Draco caught up to her easily as she stepped into a dreary looking corridor, his voice making her freeze.

"Are you up for another go, gosling?" he purred into her ear before stepping back to admire the blush that rose on the nape of her neck.

Ginny didn't turn to face him, but to her credit, she didn't run either. Draco reached up to trail his hands suggestively over the back of her arms. It had been over a week since he'd come back to Hogwarts and he was feeling a more than a little frustrated and . . . peckish for company.

She sucked in a shuddering breath and continued to stare straight ahead. "We can't do this again, Draco. We had fun, but that's all it was."

"Who says I want more than a spot of fun?" Draco asked, leaning down to trail his lips along her neck. "Or maybe, just your fun spot." He could feel the muscles in her arms bunch and tighten, shivers coursing through her body; now to give her the proper motivation.

"Mmmn, you're a hot little tart." Draco stuck his nose in her hair and inhaled her scent. "Oh, an apple tart, it seems. How long have you been steaming away under these robes, Ginny? Just itching for me to give you-"

Ginny abruptly turned to face him, her nose almost squashing into his chest. The graceful blush from a moment ago had darkened to a florid red. "Don't speak to me that way," she ground out, staring him directly in the eye. "I'm not your personal sex slave, and you can't have me whenever you want. In fact-"

Draco pulled Ginny up into a searing kiss, cutting her off and smothering her body with his. When Ginny moaned into his mouth, he almost smiled. He knew she fond of a good snog more than anything else; girls were like that. Her scrolls dropped to the floor unheeded as her hands slipped down to fumble at the clasp of his robes. Draco gave in to his amusement and smirked against her lips.

It was just that easy.

*~*~*~*~*

He didn't think it would ever be possible in a million years, yet it was. He, Ronald Weasley, was getting sick of all the attention. Okay, so the parade down Diagon Alley was nice. And all of the companies that came to ask for his endorsements were wonderful. But frankly he was starting to get annoyed by all the girls. And the staring, that was tough, too.

Every time he had walked into a room for the past two months, the females would freeze and gawp like star-struck fools. All right, so that wasn't too terrible after all, rather nice actually. But when he went to the lav and a girl hopped down from the top of the stall to land on his shoulders, Ron decided then and there that enough was enough.

As quickly as possible, he pulled the girl down and was about to gently send her on her way when he received a well-aimed punch to the jaw, quickly followed by the sound of a chant and a burst of green light.

"What the-" Was all Ron managed before he fell to the ground, stunned by both the blow and the binding curse on his legs. In front of him was a pair of fancy black heels. Ron allowed his eyes to trace their way up the black stocking covered legs and further until he saw a pair of frosty blue eyes above a decidedly pug-like nose. Merlin's teeth! She was tall for a girl.

"Parkinson?" Ron groaned, shaking his head and trying to sit up, even though his legs were bound by magic. His wand had been thrown over near the stall and there was no way he could possibly reach it.

"That's right," she said. Her jaw was clenched and her wand in danger of snapping from her tight grip.

"I suppose you aren't here for a snog then?" He smirked sarcastically at her while rubbing his aching jaw. It probably wasn't the most intelligent thing to say, he reflected later. Pansy's eyes darkened to an even colder shade of blue and she swiftly kicked him in the stomach.

"I hate you," she shrieked. "You can't imagine how much I loathe the very sight of you and your slut of a sister."

Ron's forehead crinkled and he attempted to gather his breath to speak. "Ginny?" he squeaked. "What does she have to do with anything? For that matter, what did I do to you that's so horrible?"

"As if you don't know." Pansy crossed her arms and paced above him, her heels clacking against the tiled floor. "You killed the Dark Lord and my father was arrested with all the others who raided your house on Christmas."

Ron tried to speak but she cut him off with a sharp downward slash of her hand. "I don't want to hear your excuses. It's bad enough that you killed the Dark Lord, but your sister . . ." Pansy trailed off and pulled a small knife out of her robes, testing the edge with her thumb. "Your sister stole my boyfriend."

The gleam in Pansy's eyes did little to ease Ron, and the knife in her hand was making him nervous, bringing back memories of Christmas and Percy and Voldemort. He swallowed hard and forced himself to focus on what was just said. "Who's your boyfriend?"

Pansy sniffed and tossed her perfectly coiffed, pale blonde hair. "Draco Malfoy," she said, as if it were flawlessly obvious.

Ron stared at her. He had forgotten all about that bruise on Malfoy's neck when he and Ginny were brought downstairs. Everything had happened so fast that it just didn't occur to him afterwards that- oh God. "Malfoy? Malfoy and my sister?"

The knife in Pansy's hand gleamed as she tilted it in her hand. "Yes, your sister and Draco. They've been at it like mooncalves all over the castle since after hols. You honestly haven't noticed?"

"No." Ron choked, shaking his head to clear the image of Ginny clinging to Malfoy on Christmas morning. Voldemort running his fingers down her cheek and how she cringed, how she held onto Malfoy. "I didn't know anything about this."

Pansy lifted one eyebrow. "Interesting. Everyone must have been too afraid to tell the 'saviour' of the wizarding world about his slag of a sister. You may have killed the Dark Lord, but I, for one, am not afraid of you. You're still a freckled beanpole named Weasley and I don't see how anyone in their right mind could possibly think that you killed the Dark Lord." She idly twirled the knife in her hands, flickering the blade between her slender fingers while she gathered her next thoughts. "It isn't as if I care about Draco; he's a traitor and we all despise him. But this is a matter of pride for both myself and Slytherin." She studied Ron a moment longer before reaching a conclusion. "I'll allow you to live today." Pansy pointed at him with the knife. "Provided of course that you keep your sister in line. But I can't speak for the other Slytherins, and I can't say I won't kill you later."

Ron narrowed his eyes and glared but didn't say anything. She was still holding a weapon, after all.

"I'll be watching you; we will all be watching you. One false move on the part of you or that strumpet you call sister and I'll cut you to ribbons." Pansy waved the knife around and Ron followed it with his eyes. "Won't it be fitting?" She smirked. "To be killed by Muggle means, since your family loves them so much."

Shaking his head, Ron mumbled his agreement if for no other reason than to keep the peace. She couldn't possibly know how he had killed Voldemort, very few did and they were sworn to silence.

"I'll keep Gin away from Malfoy. I would have done it anyway, had I known what they were doing." He lifted his face and looked Pansy directly in the eye. "Next time though, maybe you should consider ways to keep your boyfriend interested. If this is a trend, I don't want Crabbe or Goyle to be next on my sister's list."

Pansy's eyes widened at his last sentence before she brought up her foot and slammed it down on Ron's hand, her pointed heel digging into his knuckles. "I would never!" she screeched. "I'd almost rather sleep with a Muggle-lover like you before I'd touch either of those two idiots!"

Ron inhaled sharply and smirked while rubbing his hand. She was so incredibly thick. "Join my fan club then; seven sickles gets you a signed photograph and a romp in the sheets with the famous Ron Weasley."

"How dare you speak to me that way!" The girl trembled with rage, stamping the ground like a horse. After a moment, Pansy composed herself and stared at him coldly, her lip curling around one side of her short nose. "You'll pay for this, Weasley. But I'm late for Charms so it'll have to be later."

Ron rolled his eyes. The girl must be squeamish about bloodshed; otherwise, he'd be a puddle already. "Yeah, remind me to write it down on my calendar: Chelsea smile courtesy of Pansy Parkinson at three sharp.

With a delicate sniff, Pansy turned up her pinched nose and strode out of the bathroom, her robes swirling around her angrily.

"Oi! What about my legs?" Ron shouted. He didn't really think she would come back, and he wasn't disappointed. "Jolly brilliant," he sighed. His wand was still over near the toilet and that was at least ten feet away.

Firming his lips in resolution, Ron attempted to drag himself closer using only his hands and arms. It worked all right, but very slow going. After he had hold of his wand and was whispering the reversal spell, he thought about Ginny and exactly what he was going to do to Malfoy.

*~*~*~*~*

Harry glanced around the garden he was digging in behind Hagrid's hut, looking for Flobberworms to replace Hermione's rapidly dwindling supply. He grinned to himself and shook his head. This was much more interesting than a simple friendship. Then again, when had their friendship ever been simple?

Hermione was everything that was complex and mysterious about a woman, and he especially loved the differences in her attitude towards life since their short stay at The Sparrow. Before she'd always been so . . . perhaps tense was the word for it. Hermione didn't seem to care about things like rules anymore and flagrantly disobeyed several on a daily basis. She was like a butterfly peeping out of her cocoon for the next adventure. What had shocked him senseless though was when she'd snuck into the boy's dormitory one night and climbed on top of him, still possessing mind enough to cast a silencing charm before ripping off his pyjamas. They were having the time of their lives and he always managed to discover a new facet of her every day.

Hermione was insatiable.

Which is why Harry didn't mind so much when she sent him out to collect ingredients for her potion. The way Hermione saw it, her mind being innately tuned to fairness and equality as it was; he was only doing his part to further their night-time explorations.

Seamus and Dean had told him a few days after they returned to school that new relationships were always like that. You'd shag your brains out the first couple of weeks and then not so often after that. Harry mentally counted back and was startled to realise that it had been over two months since they'd first slept together and the passion he felt for her still hadn't dimmed. Possibly it was because she seemed like a completely different person every day so the passion didn't have a chance to wink out before someone new showed up. When Harry thought about it more closely, she seemed a little unstable and he really should talk with her about it.

But he remembered the day they first slept together and his face darkened while he continued to dig, thinking of Christmas and forgetting about Hermione's unhinged behaviour. Harry had thought about it numerous times and he knew with certainty the exact moment Voldemort had died. He remembered how the pain in his scar had flashed white-hot briefly while he was- when Hermione had felt pain their first time. Harry wiped a dirty hand over his brow and continued to dig into the slushy mixture of mud and snow, not wanting to remember anything that had happened after he and Hermione were at the inn. But by refusing to sink to the bottom of his thoughts, Dumbledore's anger at him and Mr Weasley's disappointed face swam to the surface.

He was just about to stand up when the thought of Mr Weasley reminded him that he was supposed to get extra Flobberworms for Ginny. Harry didn't like it. In fact, he hated it. But there was nothing he could do; Ginny would continue to see Draco no matter what anyone said. And he had said. Oh, he had said a lot. So had Hermione. In the end though, it had come down to one thing: Ginny was allowed to make her own mistakes. She wasn't an adult yet, but Hermione made him realise that they had no right lecturing Ginny about her choice in companions. Later that night, Hermione had confided in him that Ginny would likely suffer enough when Draco was through with her so they shouldn't make it worse, but only be there for her when they could.

"But, Hermione," he remembered saying. "This is Malfoy we're talking about! I know he seems to have changed a little, and even Mr Weasley told him that he's always wel . . ." Harry trailed off and had to swallow a bitter lump in his throat before he could continue. "I just don't like this, Hermione. Not one bit. And it may not be our business who Ginny sees, but are you honestly ready to just stand by and watch while Malfoy tears her heart into little pieces?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes and it was one of possibly three times that Harry had ever seen her anger directed at him, even if it was only because of the sheer frustration she felt at the situation.

"Of course I'm not ready to stand by and watch!" she snapped. "But there isn't anything we can do! Ron won't speak to us and I don't think it best that he be involved anyway. He isn't exactly level-headed when it comes to his family. I've spoken with Ginny several times already and she still thinks that she can sleep with that rat Malfoy for a while and come out of it unscathed. She says that she doesn't feel anything for him, that they're using each other, but I think it's all a lie she's telling herself. She won't listen to me, or anyone else, not even Colin. I highly doubt that she'd listen to you, either, so I say we support her feelings if nothing else. I won't lose her, too."

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes, but she blinked them away angrily. Harry knew that as angry as she was, she still missed Ron and the other Weasleys. So did he. Ginny was the only one that still connected them at all to that warm and generally happy family, and now she seemed to take on several empty roles in their lives.

"I'll be there for her," Harry had sighed. "And I'll bite my tongue because you think it best. But just remember that I don't like this at all. Not one bit."

A shaft of piercing sunlight in the eye brought him back to the present. The corners of Harry's mouth tucked themselves into his cheeks and his eyebrows sloped down in a frown at the thought of doing nothing about the Ginny situation. The things he did for Hermione. He looked down into his box and noticed that there were six long, brown, shiny Flobberworms nestled into the old rags covering the bottom. It would surely be enough for the two of them, wouldn't it?

Harry stood up and tried to dust the snow from his robes but only succeeded in making a mess. Classes were over for the day and he noticed, as he walked back toward the castle, that Hagrid was still locked up inside of his cabin. He hadn't seen him since yesterday's Care of Magical Creatures. Harry shrugged and knocked on the oak door, observing that it had lost some of its shine since his last visit. No one answered, and he frowned, knocking again. He finally decided to just open the door and have done with it. The man never came out anymore except to teach classes and he hadn't been that way since Madame Maxime died sixth year in a Death Eater attack.

Hagrid wasn't there, and it looked like he hadn't been there all day. Harry deduced this from the dry, flaky mud tramped all over his floor and the bottles of Ogden's Old Fire Whiskey laying around on their sides, the liquid inside half-evaporated. He sighed and closed the door, focusing on getting the box of Flobberworms back to Hermione instead of the remembered warmth of liquor coursing through his limbs.

Harry stopped and fumbled with the box of cigarettes in his pocket, taking one out and inhaling deeply. He still had them even though Hermione thought she had destroyed them all. She wouldn't know if he had just one with maybe a smoke shop mint afterward. Damn Draco Malfoy for ever putting the things in his hand. He now depended on them the same way he had depended on Fire Whiskey before hols. There were only two things that calmed Harry down when he was feeling nervous or uneasy: Hermione and cigarettes. And since Hermione was still studying in the library, that left his trusty little white sticks.

Despite the fact that Voldemort was dead, and he really was this time, Harry still had the same feeling of impending doom that had haunted him ever since his fourth year. There was a body though; he had seen Voldemort's body along with the rest of the wizarding world since the Ministry had insisted on displaying it to the public as proof that the Dark Lord was no longer a threat. And the Death Eaters who hadn't been captured at the Burrow on Christmas were slowly being rounded up and sent to Azkaban, and weren't much of a threat.

So why were his hands shaking?

*~*~*~*~*

Ginny sighed and stretched. The silk sheets under her back were hot and she squirmed uncomfortably. Usually the dungeons were damp and chill, but in a bed with the curtains pulled shut and a body lying on top of you, it could get too warm for comfort very fast.

"Be still," Draco mumbled against her stomach. "I want a nap before supper."

Ginny's lip curled into a smirk that was very similar to the one Draco usually wore, and deliberately rolled out from underneath him. "I agree; you do need your beauty sleep. But since you may want to leave school one day, I don't suggest it."

Draco lifted an eyebrow and grabbed his pillow instead. "This is better anyway, your stomach isn't as soft as it used to be. You've been playing too much Quidditch." His voice was muffled and distorted by the pillow, but she heard him.

Ginny looked down at her stomach and pressed at it with her finger, noticing happily that it was much firmer than it was the first time they had slept together. It was true; she had been playing Quidditch an awful lot lately, both for practice and for fun, so maybe it was finally paying off. She noted her bottom with a frown though; Quidditch didn't seem to be whittling that down any smaller. Perhaps some more callisthenics were in order.

"If that was meant to be an insult, Draco, find another audience because I'm pleased with myself, thank you very much."

He grunted and lifted his head from the pillow. "I suppose you would be at that." Draco waved a hand at her and flopped his face back down into the feathery softness. "Go on then, you don't want to get caught in my room again, do you?"

"Definitely not." Ginny still remembered her encounter with Crabbe and Goyle one evening with a shiver. Nasty pieces of work they were, too. If Draco hadn't stepped in and proclaimed his 'ownership', they would have had their way with her right there. Even though most of Slytherin house hated Draco for what he'd done and who he was currently associating with, they still curiously feared his wrath. But Ginny was certain that the rules could change any time, so she wasn't about to take any more risks than she was already.

As she rooted around for her clothes and mindlessly put them on, Ginny thought about how much her encounters with Draco had changed. When they had first come back to school, it had just been rough shags against the wall in unused corridors. Now they had settled into a routine that basically consisted of Ginny sneaking down to his room through a secret passageway after classes. They would shag, of course, and occasionally talk. Most often though, Draco would fall asleep and refuse to let her leave until he woke up for supper in the evenings. How she found the time to study and keep her marks up in class, she never knew.

"Draco, I'm leaving now. I won't see you tomorrow though, I promised Hermione that I would spend some time revising for my Potions exam next Friday."

His head snapped up quickly and he frowned. "Why the devil do you have to do that? You're almost at the top of your year. Tell Granger to go shag Potter and leave you alone."

Ginny's eyebrows rose at this. "So you'll miss me tomorrow?" she asked hesitantly, afraid to break the unwritten rule.

"Of course, even you said I need my beauty sleep. How am I supposed to do that without wearing myself out first?"

She nodded and turned away to pull on her shoes. It wasn't as if she expected more; to Draco she was just a convenient shag and a piece of furniture for him to lie on afterwards. Ginny hated the fact that she wanted more now than she had before, when it was obvious that he would never change. Hermione was probably right after all, but Draco was an addiction she wasn't ready to give up yet.

Draco surprised her with a peck on the lips when she turned to say good-bye. But his eyes were blank pools when she looked up into them. "You will come to me tomorrow?"

It wasn't a request and Ginny simply nodded. He played her like an instrument, and he always seemed to know just how to make her do what he wanted. With one small kiss he melted her like putty in his hands. She hated it.

Ginny stood up and grabbed her books, walking out into the corridor after making sure that no one was there to see her leave. She went to the panel that hid the secret passageway and knocked on it twice with her wand before it opened and she climbed the stairs. The other end was close to Dumbledore's office and she always had to make sure that no one was around before closing the panel behind her.

Today was different from other days because she saw her brother Bill pacing anxiously in front of the entrance to Dumbledore's office. Ginny dropped her books and ran to hug her brother.

"Bill! Where have you been? We tried so hard to find you and Mum sent you-"

He embraced her carefully before cutting her off. "I know, I received a stack of letters when I came back to Cairo. I've been on business for Dumbledore for almost three months now and I wasn't able to owl you all to say I couldn't make it to the funeral. I was barely able to owl Mum saying that I would miss Christmas." Bill blinked back a few tears and swallowed hard. "Poor Percy. Did they catch the one who killed him?"

Ginny realised with a start that he didn't know anything about how Percy had died and she wasn't sure that she was the one to tell him. "Yes, they're dead."

Bill nodded grimly. "Good. I would have done worse if I'd been able to catch the bastard. How's Mum holding up?"

"Haven't you been home yet?"

"No, I had to come here straight away."

"Oh." Ginny sighed. "Well, she's doing all right. We all are. I suppose that you heard about Ron?"

At this, her brother grinned and his chest puffed out with pride. "I did. My little brother defeated You-Know-Who, I couldn't believe it."

"Neither could I," she whispered. "Ron has a huge head about the whole thing now," Ginny said in a louder voice. "He struts around as if he owns the world and he always has a gaggle of girls following him everywhere; it's positively sick making."

Bill threw his head back and laughed wholeheartedly, his fang earring dangling. "Knowing Ron, he enjoys every minute of it."

Ginny could feel her lip twitching in amusement. "I suppose he does."

Bill smiled and hugged her close to him again. "I've missed you all so much. Perhaps after I've finished my business with Dumbledore he'll let me come up to Gryffindor tower and say hello to everyone."

Her eyes lit up. "Oh, that would be wonderful! Maybe we ca-"

At that moment, the spiral staircase descended behind them and they turned to see Dumbledore walking toward them.

"Mr Weasley, Miss Weasley, I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"Of course not, Professor. Ginny and I were just talking about some family things."

Dumbledore nodded and fixed his gaze on Ginny. She felt uncomfortable and began to squirm; it was almost as if he knew where she had been. "I see. And what were you doing in this part of the castle, Miss Weasley?"

"I was- I was j-just, um . . ."

"Remember, Miss Weasley, Mr Filch guards this hallway a little more carefully than most. You may return to your house now where I assume that you'll be revising for your upcoming exam in Potions?" He lifted an eyebrow at her, his blue eyes twinkling, and she blushed. Dumbledore probably knew about her and Draco, everyone except Ron already did.

"Yes, Headmaster. I was just on my way back." She stretched up on her toes to give her brother a quick kiss and bent down to collect her books. "I'll see you later, Bill."

Her brother gave her an odd look, but shrugged and waved all the same. "Good bye, Gin. Say hello to Ron for me."

Ginny had just picked up her last book and was about to head off to Gryffindor tower when the tiny smile on Dumbledore's face stopped her cold. He was such an odd old man, and he probably did know about her and Draco.

"I will." She promised Bill, and walked down the hall. Halfway down, she stopped to see if they were still there, but Bill and Dumbledore had gone.