Terminus Est

Two days later, Draco went down to the kitchen. He had decided to swallow his pride. Also, he was damn hungry.

As he walked into the kitchen, the conversation trickled off. The Fantastic Four, as he had taken to calling them in his head, stared at him. Ron stared with his jaw agape, showing a large mouthful of half masticated beef. Harry watched warily, as if Draco was a time bomb which would go off with the slightest provocation. Hermione looked astonished, as if she had forgotten he was even there. On the other hand, he could tell Ginny hadn't forgotten him. She stared at him with a mixture of confusion and something else he couldn't identify. It looked disconcertingly like pity. He hated pity. The weak and the poor were to be pitied, but certainly not Draco Malfoy. So when he glared at her he saw a new emotion, surprise, which was quickly replaced with anger as she turned to her beef stew.

He silently walked over to the table and sat down. He smiled gratefully at Mrs.Weasley as she sat a bowl of stew down in front of him. If he hadn't been so hungry, he might have cared that everyone was still staring at him. Eventually they went back to their conversations, but their voices were noticeably strained.

They didn't trust him, he realized. Then he grinned, because he knew why. Three days ago he'd have handed them all over to the Death Eaters the first chance he got. He'd have relished it. But things were changing now.

He wasn't sure why. Maybe it was because in the last three days, he'd had a lot of time to think. Seen the trust they were putting in him, just by having him here. Maybe it was because he had heard Ginny shouting at the Terrific Trio, and felt glad she had stuck up for him.

Maybe it was because he had sat in the kitchen with them for the past two nights. He didn't know when it had started. When he had gotten this sudden surge of longing. He wasn't sure what he was longing for, only that it was something that just barely eluded him. He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but it was real all the same.

Maybe it had started when Hermione had looked over his shoulder while they were doing Potions homework one night and corrected his essay. She had corrected him so flippantly, as if he were just another Harry or Ron. "Two drops of hellebore, Malfoy, not three."

Maybe it was when Harry had made a crack about Ron in Draco's ear. Hermione had been leaning over Ron's shoulder at the time, and her proximity was clearly making Ron uncomfortable. "Bit of a thickheaded prat, isn't he?" Harry had said to Draco in a low voice. Draco had heartily agreed.

Maybe it was when Ron had looked at him, for once, without Killing Curses in his eyes. "Listen," Ron had said, in a voice that told of his reluctance. "I don't really blame you for the whole 'Weasley is Our King' thing. I just didn't like you having a go at my mum."

Draco had been taken aback. He didn't know why these Gryffindors were suddenly being nice to him. He felt sure that it had something to do with Ginny Weasley's little 'chat' with the Trio. If they were making an effort, he probably should make one too. But he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys did not act nicely towards Mudbloods, Potters and Weasleys. But Draco didn't know whether the old standards applied in this case. In fact, he hardly knew anything for certain any more.

All he knew was that it should be easier to be nice. He'd give it a try. But he wasn't going to like it.

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Okay, what was Malfoy's deal? Sitting there, eating his dinner, and grinning like a fool. Not insulting anyone. Of course, Ginny had always thought Malfoy wasn't as bad as he seemed. That if you got him away from his dear father, he had a chance of being something quite unexpected.

She had always been interested in Draco Malfoy, from a purely curious point of view. What could cause an eleven year old boy to be so evil? As he grew older and got more and more evil, her interest increased. If you chose to take it in a literal sense, there was no such thing as evil, only an absence of good. Just like there is no darkness, only an absence of light.

She had learned about natural law in Muggle Studies. It's what the United States Constitution is based on. You don't need a law to tell you murder is bad, that you shouldn't cheat, steal, and lie. That's what your conscience is for. But what caused an eleven year old boy to lose his conscience? What caused it to mostly implode, shrinking as he aged? Was it a birth defect? Is there a gene for having a conscience? She'd be willing to bet that genetics had nothing to do with it, and that it was purely Lucius Malfoy's influence.

Therefore, she reasoned, if you took Malfoy away from his wretched father's influence, maybe he'd grow a conscience. If you could flood light into the dark corners of his soul, maybe it would stay there. She had never expected an opportunity to test her theory.

She slowly came back to the real world, where Hermione and Ron were fighting like cats and dogs. Where Tonks and Lupin were trying hard not to flirt with each other, not that everyone didn't already know they were in love. Where Fred and George (complete with dragonhide leather jackets) were arguing Quidditch with Bill and Charlie. Where Mrs. Weasley was eyeing Mundungus Fletcher with a look of intense dislike. Where Malfoy was looking at her, grinning, as she realized she had been staring at him the whole time.

But, to her immense surprise, instead of making a scathing comment, he dropped her a wink. As he turned to listen to what Bill was saying about the Sweetwater All-Stars (an American Quidditch team), Ginny blushed hotly.

That seemed to be the trend. Malfoy's very presence nearly caused Ginny to blush. But when he actually did something that on a normal person may be called flirting, she was sure her face matched her hair.

Because, lets just face it, Malfoy was totally hot.

Although, so was Harry, and you didn't see her falling all over the place on his account. But then, maybe it takes three years to get over these things. She hoped not. She didn't want to spend the time up until she graduated Hogwarts acting like a little girl over Draco bloody Malfoy.

Speaking of Harry, why was he looking at her?

She had always thought that Rita Skeeter unknowingly caught Harry's essence when she called him a "tragic little hero." Although she preferred to think of him as a dark prince. He had troubles in his soul. But he was brave enough to put them away and enjoy life as it came. Ever since Sirius died, ever since his little chat with Dumbledore, Harry had a new kind of seriousness. Maturity, you might even call it. It was very becoming.

Did she have food on her face or something? Why was Harry staring at her in such a fashion? She mentally rolled her eyes.

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Harry was actually thinking that Ginny had quite grown up. But apparently Dean Thomas thought so too. Or was she just pulling Ron's chain with that? She hadn't been in contact with anyone, as far as he knew.

He wondered how badly Ron would injure him if he asked Ginny out. Would he regain the use of his limbs pre- or post-graduation?

Not that it seemed to matter, as Ginny was apparently lost in the strange workings of her own mind. She had to be, she wouldn't be idly staring at Malfoy for any other reason. At least, he hoped not. Because what Ron would do to him for fancying Ginny would look like child's play compared to how bad he would hurt Malfoy.

A totally pointless train of thought, considering Ginny hated Malfoy's guts almost as much as Harry did. But that verbal beating she had given him, Ron and Hermione three days ago had set him wondering.

But everyone knew that a Weasley liking a Malfoy was inconceivable. He just hoped Ginny knew.

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"Sorry, Weasley," Malfoy said as he bumped into her on the stairs. Great, Ginny thought dryly, Malfoy being nice, and Malfoy up close and personal. I really don't know which is worse.

But she did know. Having Malfoy bump into her was to be expected, running about the house, and everyone up and down the stairs all the time. Lets just say you got a bit closer to your housemates when walking down to dinner involves a cramped staircase.

But Malfoy being nice was totally different. He was even being nice to Ron, who was starting to get suspicious.

"I always knew Malfoy wasn't to be trusted," Ron had said yesterday, completely serious. "He's just trying to get on our good side, so we'll tell him the Order's secrets. Then he'll run off to the Death Eaters and tell them!" Ginny had just rolled her eyes. She didn't think so, for some reason.

These were the thoughts chasing through her head as she walked down to the kitchen. As such, she almost dropped the trash bag she was carrying right on top of Crookshanks, who just managed to get out of her way.

The trash bag was full of dark artifacts from the Black family. They had finally managed to get Mrs. Black's portrait down off the wall, and had put her in the cellar. But there were still lots of questionable items that needed to be disposed of. This particular trash bag held the heads of generations of house elves. She and her mother had thought it best to remove those while Hermione was otherwise occupied.

What exactly Hermione was doing, Ginny couldn't say. She, Ron and Harry had barricaded themselves in the boy's room this morning and hadn't been seen since.

"Ginny!" her mother's voice interrupted her thoughts. "Ginny! Come here, please!"

Ginny threw her trash bag on the growing pile in the kitchen, and went back to the sitting room.

"Ginny, do me a favor, dear. Take this up to the attic for me. I don't know whether or not to get rid of it."

She handed Ginny the tapestry with the Black family tree on it. Ginny would have chucked it, but she wasn't in the mood to argue with her mother. She sighed, and headed towards the attic.

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Draco had been in the attic all day, aside from a brief foray into the kitchen for food. He found all this old junk comforting. It reminded him of his father. He grinned at the irony of it. Dark objects with questionable uses were the only things that comforted him. If that wasn't a profession of the Malfoy character, he didn't know what was.

He recognized a lot of the artifacts, come to think of it. Over in the west corner was a tall device with nasty looking hooks all around it. Draco personally knew that it was a punishment device, and he had the scars to show for it.

He also saw an object in the corner that looked strangely familiar. He squinted at it, and realized that his father had one just like it on the desk in his study. It was a small green stone, perfectly round, that shined with a faint emerald light. His father had never told him what it was used for. Maybe it was a paperweight, but Draco sincerely doubted it.

Bloody hell, this trunk was uncomfortable to sit on. As he shifted, something glittering caught the light, off to his left. He got off the trunk and went over there, looking until he saw it. It was a pendant.

A curious pendant, small and round on a gold chain. There were words engraved on it in curly, flowing script. He couldn't make them out, for the pendant was covered in the dust and grime of countless years. He took the hem of his shirt in his hand and wiped the pendant with it. As he wiped, the words became clear. It was latin.

Terminus Est

Fitting, he thought. Terminus Est, this is the line of division. This really was the line of division. He was riding the line between good and evil. The scary thought was that it was becoming easier to be good. What would his father think? But he didn't care. He had lived with these people, and his father hadn't.

He had realized that just because someone is a Mudblood, a Muggle-lover, or a werewolf, doesn't mean that they are second class citizens. This pureblood mania wasn't all it was cracked up to be. As he realized this, he had also realized that these people he had tormented since he could remember were actually not that bad. He was even starting to like Harry Potter. As he thought these words, he imagined his father rolled over in his grave. The thought made him smile.

He heard footsteps. Then he heard a thump, and a curse. His smile got wider. He recognized that voice, it belonged to the little Weasley babe.

The first part of her to become visible was the famous Weasley hair, closely followed by her face. He thought her refreshing, the Slytherin girls he knew wore way too much makeup, it choked him when he kissed them. But he did anyways, because that was the thing to do.

Draco saw her eyes widen as she realized he was there. He had never actually seen someone set their shoulders, but that was as close to the gesture Ginny made as he could get. She climbed the rest of the way up the stairs and smiled at him warily.

"Malfoy," she said, by way of greeting.

"Ginny," he replied. He saw her stiffen as he said her first name, and then he purposely shocked her further by smiling. He got up and took the big bundle, setting it on a handy shelf, still smiling.

It took her a second, but she smiled back at him. A genuine smile, the likes of which she had never directed towards him. All that power focused on him was enough to weaken his knees, or would have been if Malfoys ever got weak in the knees. Which they did not.

Her eyes flicked downward, and he realized she was looking at the pendant he still had in his hands. He held it up for her to take, and as she reached for it, their hands touched. It was as if a spark had jumped between them. He looked into her eyes, and she met his gaze before looking away, a blush on her face.

She looked down at the pendant, and held it for an eternity, or what was more like several seconds. Then she looked back up at him, and this time did not blush.

"Terminus Est?" she queried. "Do you know what that means?"

"It means 'This is the Line of Division.' I found it up here," he replied softly.

She looked at it again, before looking up at him. "You should probably keep this," she said, holding it out to him. "We've already thrown it away twice, but Kreacher keeps pulling it out of the trash bin. So no one would mind if you kept it."

Then, to Draco's surprise, she walked around behind him. She lifted her hands over his head (a hard feat, since he had shot up to about 5' 11" recently, and she barely topped out at 5' 4"), and fastened the chain around his neck.

When she pulled her hands away, Draco felt a most peculiar sensation in the pit of his stomach, similar to the feeling he had after portkeying to the World Cup. As if something vital had been torn away.

He turned around to face her, and saw something in her eyes that nearly made his heart stop. No one had ever looked at him like that before, with that strange emotion shining out of their eyes. He felt certain he had never looked at anyone else like that either, but he had a funny feeling he was looking at her that way now.

She looked at him as if he were someone special. He had seen a shadow of this same gaze back in his second year, when she followed Harry Potter around like a fool puppy. But this was different, deeper somehow. He knew, because he felt it himself. It was confusion and uncertainty, like and lust, trust and (dare he say?) love.

Well, there was only one thing to do about that.

He bent his head and kissed her hard on the mouth. He could tell she was surprised, but that didn't stop her kissing him back. They wrapped their arms around each other, oblivious to everything but the two of them.

He felt like she was the only thing keeping him from drowning, if he let go of her he would surely be swept away. He thought dryly that if his father hadn't turned over in his grave before, he would surely be doing so now. That was the last coherent thought he had until a quick gasp caused them to jump apart.

They turned as one to see Hermione standing with her head and shoulders above the trapdoor, with the rest of her body on the stairs below. Her hand was clapped over her mouth and she looked as if she had opened a lovely Christmas present to find a basilisk egg inside.

"Hermione," Ron's voice came from somewhere below. "Hermione, what's the holdup?"

Draco and Ginny turned to each other, blood draining out of their faces. Oh, Draco was in trouble, with a capital T. He was sure that Ron would tear him limb from limb when he found out what Draco had just been doing with Ron's sweet, innocent baby sister. But, Draco reasoned, at least he'd die with a smile on his face.

But to both Draco and Ginny's surprise, Hermione took a deep breath, composed herself, and looked down at Ron. "Nothing, Ron, just saw a rat. You'd think that Kreacher would have gotten rid of those horrid things, seeing how much time he spends up here."

The sound of Ron and Harry laughing could be heard all through the house.

"A rat, Hermione? Since when have you been scared of animals?" Harry called, between guffaws.

"Oh!" Hermione then exclaimed, with a look that clearly said 'you owe me.' "Malfoy! Ginny! I didn't even see you two!"

Draco and Ginny dived for a trunk and threw the contents---as quietly as possible---onto the floor.

"Er...just sorting out this trunk," Ginny said, her voice sounding strained. "Mum asked me too, and Draco is helping me."

Draco? Since when had he become Draco? He supposed the whole snogging thing might have had something to do with it, but you could never tell with Weasleys.

As Hermione, Ron and Harry climbed up into the attic, Harry shot Draco and Ginny a searching look, clearly taking in their disheveled appearance and making the connection. Ron, in typical Ron fashion, was totally clueless. Harry thankfully didn't say anything.

A grin came unbidden to Draco's face. "So," he said nonchalantly, "are you three going to help us or what?"

The trio dived into the task with unusual exuberance, at least on Harry and Hermione's part. The trunk was soon restored to orderliness, and they all exited the attic together, and went down to the kitchen to eat something.

Draco thought sardonically that, two weeks ago, he never would have been caught dead walking anywhere with this bunch of people. But, he thought, two weeks ago he wouldn't have been caught dead snogging Ginny Weasley either.

Oh, how times have changed. Terminus Est indeed.