For Ginny

A chilling scream pierced the quiet evening. It seemed to go on and on, an endless testimony to true suffering, then suddenly stopped dead. Draco Malfoy sighed with relief and wondered whether it had been 'Silencio' or death that had returned the stillness to the night. Moments later he got his answer.

They dragged her in, thrashing and writhing, her face contorted in a silent scream of agony.

'What's this then?' asked Draco, feigning disinterest. The open display of torture made him cringe.

'This,' his father replied curtly, flicking his wand at the young Muggle in pain, 'we found on the grounds. She wasn't supposed to be there, of course, but she'll make exquisite entertainment for tomorrow night's banquet.'

Draco shivered. He knew Death Eater banquets all too well, and the 'entertainment' usually didn't live to see the dawn. If they were lucky. 'Really?' he drawled, eyes moving over his father's entourage of three other Death Eaters, lower in rank, and a few other followers of Dark Lord, on whom the Dark Mark had not yet been bestowed.

'Take her up to the West Tower,' Lucius commandeered, 'I'll undo the curse in a moment. If we let it continue at this rate I expect she'll be worn out before the night.'

Jugson and Goyle, two of the three Death Eaters under his father's command, levitated the poor girl up the stairs to one of the many towers of Nott Castle, the Death Eaters' secret Headquarters, where she would be held captive until the feast the following night. Lucius, accompanied by the rest, turned to go to the library, but not before prodding his son in the side with his black cane, topped with a silver snake head. 'You'll be there, of course,' he said icily, referring to the banquet. It wasn't a question.

'Of course,' Draco replied, tonelessly. As always when his father treated him like a child, Draco's anger flared up, but he had learned well to hide it. When he was younger, he had continuously tried to please his father, but seemingly always failed to do so. Since then, Draco had become a powerful wizard, and two years ago, at age twenty, had received the Dark Mark himself. Still, Lucius Malfoy never passed up an opportunity to let his son know he was a disappointment, and lately it had begun to anger Draco immensely. 'What does he want me to be?' he often wondered, frustrated. 'What more does he want?' The constant jabs, both verbal as well as with his father's cursed cane, made him want to rebel for the first time in his life.

As his father left the room, Draco's eyes, expressionless, followed the tortured Muggle up the stairs. After he lost sight of her he moved to his own quarters, where he sat down heavily in the large brocade easy chair in front of the blackened, empty fireplace. The arrival of the Muggle girl, cursed with what Draco imagined was the worst of the Unforgivables, had jarred him. Contrary to his pose, he had never enjoyed watching people being tortured, let alone doing the torturing, but now he almost longingly remembered the days when at least he had truly not cared.

This time however, the idea of the girl up in the West Tower, and the purpose she was to serve his father's party the next day, disturbed Draco even more than usual. He knew why, of course. The girl, for all the pain carved in her face, slightly resembled Ginny Weasley. Ginny, who had had the same flaming red hair surround her soft cheeks, and whose eyes, no matter what they had seen, had never spoken the kind of hurt he had seen in the Muggle girl's eyes tonight. Not until the very end at least, he believed, and thank heavens he had not been there to witness it.

Ginny had died a few days after their third meeting. Oh, he had only contacted her that first time to see if her inquisitive mind and Gryffindor stupidity would cause her to agree to a secret meeting, supposedly to discuss the possibility of him becoming a spy for the Order of the Phoenix. Of course, he had never actually considered joining the good guys. The plan had been so simple. Pick one of the essential figures on their side, one of the true insiders, who might be stupid enough to buy his story, and then trap them into giving him whatever information he wanted. It was an act to both defy his father, who had ordered him to stay out of any War business, while at the same time make him proud, which Draco was sure it would have, if it hadn't been for a slight mishap.

What had gone wrong? He still found it hard to place his finger on it, but he had known right away that something was going wrong, very wrong even, when Ginny had arrived at the Mad Dragon that winter night, all bundled up in her dark blue robes and burgundy scarf, red locks falling carelessly around her face. She had grown up so much since he had last seen her at Hogwarts, five years earlier, when she had been a lanky fifth-year, unworthy of his attention, while he had been finishing up his N.E.W.T.S. The smile she had worn to that first meeting was truly delightful, and they had talked over drinks much longer than the hour he had permitted himself to stay.

Afterwards, he had cursed himself over and over for taking a liking to her. The second meeting, which had come about a few weeks later, had possibly gone worse than the first, in the sense that he now no longer even wanted to betray her and bring her to his father. Happy, really happy, she had seemed, that he was going to be joining her and her band of Mudbloods and Muggle-lovers. Of course, strategically speaking, if he really would have joined the good guys, it would have meant a break-through in intelligence for the Order. And Ginny had known all too well that Draco could provide them with the kind of insider information that nearly no-one else could acquire.

She was sweeter than he could have imagined, and so was her mouth, when he had tasted it outside the Mad Dragon, after their third and last meeting. Secretly, he had begun thinking about possibly getting her to join their side, to serve the Dark Lord and be with him. She was a pureblood, after all, and although her Weasley heritage and love for Muggles was most unfortunate, she would likely be accepted in his family were she to denounce the Order and her beliefs about Muggles and Mudbloods.

But even then, in his heart, Draco knew he had been fooling himself. Ginny would have never changed sides, loyal Gryffindor that she was, and he had to admit that was part of the reason he liked her so much.

He had learned of her death five days later, when he overheard some of his father's cronies brag about murdering one of the Weasleys. It had pained and angered him more than it should have, and he had spent the next month pondering her, her death, and whether or not she had really liked him. Maybe she had just pretended to in order to get information from him, to use him in the way he had planned to use her. For one thing he had learned was that she had been much smarter and alert than he had anticipated.

Another scream, loud enough to break walls, tore Draco away from his memories. Like earlier, the scream stopped rather suddenly, and Draco slowly got up. It was around dinnertime, but he was not hungry. Absent-mindedly, he pointed his wand at the fireplace. 'Incendio!' As the flames roared and began to lick the logs, he sat back down, his mind spinning with thoughts and memories, from the mix of which began to emerge the beginnings of a plan.

~*~*~*~

Around five in the morning, Draco woke up. His bedroom was still shrouded in darkness, but through the curtains of his four-poster her could glance out the window, and noticed the sky was beginning to turn a pale grey. At first he didn't realize what had stirred him, but then he heard a loud bang followed by the sound of something breaking. Jumping out of bed, Draco threw on his robe and accio'd his wand to him, and ran toward the staircase. He could hear voices yelling and screaming now, and more breaking noise. The ruckus seemed to be coming from downstairs.

Reaching the balcony overlooking the main hall, the sight that met Draco was spectacular. The hall had turned into a battle field. Furniture lay destroyed everywhere, and curses where flying to and fro, shot from wands and drawing small green, red and purple lines in the air.

There seemed to be at least thirty members of the Order of the Phoenix, battling a dozen or so unsuspecting Death Eaters. There was Potter, of course, jumping into the fight head-over-heels and trying to be the leader, as well as that Remus Lupin who had once taught them Defence Against The Dark Arts at Hogwarts, fighting his father. Lupin hadn't been half-bad as a teacher, Draco had to admit, but the fact that he was a werewolf of course made him completely unworthy of having a place in the wizarding world. All around he saw other familiar faces. Granger was there, and Moody, the auror, the Weasley twins, McGonagall, and many more that he knew by face, name and sometimes character.

'Know thy enemy,' Draco thought wryly as he descended the stairs, not very eager to participate in the fighting. It looks like the battle had not been going on very long, as the stage was still the main hall and the duellers hadn't moved to any of the other rooms just yet.

'Malfoy!' Draco had reached the bottom of the stairs and spun around to face Ron Weasley. The same brown eyes as Ginny. The same freckled nose. Pointing his wand, Draco readied himself for the duel.

Ron battled with a fury that could only be expected from someone who had recently lost his little sister at the hands of the people he now fought with. It almost made him dangerous. Surveying the room from the corner of his eyes, Draco estimated every single one of the members of the Order present knew at least one loss inflicted by Death Eaters. Spell after spell emerged from Draco and Ron's wands and were swiftly blocked. They were well-matched in battle. After about thirty minutes of intense one-on-one fighting, Draco began to consider the duel pointless. Especially since all he was doing was trying not to get killed himself, while trying to look like he was killing Ron without actually doing so. Ginny wouldn't have liked it.

'Weasley,' he snarled through clenched teeth, before blocking yet another spell from Ron. 'There's a Muggle in the West Tower. If you don't get her out, she'll die tomorrow.'

The words came as such a surprise that Ron stopped his attack for a split second. Annoyed, Draco realized he could have easily killed the weasel in that moment. 'Damned idiot,' he thought.

'Nice trap, Draco,' said Ron, pointing his wand again and ready to start churning out spells again. 'But I'm not that stupid.'

Draco shrugged. 'Then don't believe it,' he said, really not caring all that much.

Ron took a long look at his enemy. Lowering his wand a little, he asked: 'Which way?'

~*~*~*~

The Muggle girl was sleeping soundly upstairs at Twelve Grimmauld Place. Ron sat silently by her side, watching her. She reminded him of Ginny somewhat. For the first time since his little sister had died, almost five weeks ago now, Ron fully let the thought of her into his heart. All this time he had fought so hard to not to think of her. He had feared that if he allowed himself to think of Ginny gone, he would be rendered unable to take part in this cursed war any longer. But as the emotions washed over him now, all he could think about was continuing, about fighting more battles and winning them, and about saving more like the girl sleeping in the bed next to him. For Ginny. Burying his face in his hands, Ron cried.

Downstairs, the other members of the Order of the Phoenix gathered around the kitchen table. Tired, they discussed the events of the previous night and morning in hushed tones. They had managed to come out of the battle with but one loss, which grieved them endlessly nonetheless. But the reward had been great. Their enemies' Headquarters destroyed, seven Death Eaters left dead, Voldemort's supporters were now forced to relocate, and the Order had gained much intelligence; information which could possibly lead to Voldemort's defeat, someday. But that day lay far ahead, and today, the members pondered another question.

The Order of the Phoenix never did find out whom had been the secret informant, who had not only tipped them of on the location of the Death Eaters' Headquarters, but had also provided them with all the spells they needed to take it.

~*~*~*~

Instead of a banquet, the ruins of Nott Castle witnessed a mass funeral that night, conducted by Lucius Malfoy and the remaining Death Eaters that had survived the battle. More of the Dark Lord's supporters had arrived throughout the day, but they had been too late to keep their side from losing the battle.

A few short words, eloquently spoken, and the funeral pyre was set alight. Lucius' face betrayed no emotion as the flames consumed his son's body.