Twilight of the Dawn

Chapter Nine

The next morning, Ginny spent a good two hours in the library under the guise of working on a Potions' essay, outlining a plan of attack. What she came to realize, however, after alternating staring off into space and sketching pictures of You-Know-Who melting into a puddle of goo, was that she was not at all good at outlining plans. In fact, she would even go so far as to say she was completely hopeless. It didn't help, of course, that she'd never been in love herself before.

Blaise, the star of by far her longest relationship to date, had been more of a friend than anything else, even from the very beginning. By conscious choice, they'd both preferred spending their time together talking and joking about, rather than snogging in an empty classroom. Which was not to say that they hadn't done that, or that it hadn't been highly enjoyable at the time. There just had never been any real passion in their embraces.

So taking on the task of Malfoy was more than a little daunting.

She yawned wide and rubbed her forehead, blinking down at the scarred library table. The way to a man's heart… his stomach. She snorted. Maybe for Ron, but it was definitely the wrong way to go with Malfoy. While she was on the subject of body parts, however…

Her mind called forth an image of Malfoy, eyes slit and gleaming with want, thin pink lips wet and parted, pale skin slightly flushed. Seduction.

Her heart started pounding at the mere thought. She could seduce him. But would it work? She knew he wanted her, but weren't lust and love entirely different things?

She slumped down in her seat. "I wouldn't have the faintest clue where to start, anyway," she murmured.

"Start what?" Blaise asked, dropping into the seat across from her.

"Oh, noth--" She cut off her words abruptly. Staring at the dark-haired boy, everything finally clicked in her head. Blaise. The library. Malfoy. The claim.

Her lips drew up in a slow smile. She could use the stupid claim, make Malfoy assert his supposed possession on her.

"Gin?" Blaise asked warily. "What's up? You're grinning really… oddly."

Ginny grinned wider. "Blaise, you know how we've been sneaking about to avoid Malfoy?"

"Yeah," Blaise replied, a tad apprehensively.

"Let's not do that anymore."

His brows rose. "You want to stop meeting with me?"

She shook her head. "No, I want to stop hiding it from Malfoy. I want him to know exactly what we're doing." Yes, that would be an excellent first step. She could spend time with him without making him suspicious about her motives. She didn't want him putting up any defenses against her, after all. He wasn't going to know anything about this love business until it hit him square between the eyes. As far as she knew, it was an inevitable thing. The Draco from the future was in love with her, wasn't he? Or, at the very least, extremely fond of her.

"Why?"

Hmmm… What to tell Blaise? She suspected that he really wouldn't look favorably on the make-Malfoy-fall-for-her idea.

As she hesitated over an answer, he narrowed his eyes. "This doesn't have anything to do with Malfoy's letter to Potter, does it?"

She smiled sweetly at him. "Of course not."

"Ginny," he growled a warning.

Damn. "Look, Blaise, I… I need to do this," she said lamely, eyes pleading. "I really don't think I have a choice in the matter, considering what's already happened."

Blaise stared at her silently, a frown pulling at his lips.

"Please," she went on. "It'll just make everything easier if I can see him more."

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine," he said finally, resignation laced through his voice. "But don't think I'm leaving you alone with him."

She gave him a blinding grin, and then spotted the boy in question over his shoulder just striding through the library doors. "He's here," she hissed, nudging Blaise's shin with her foot. "Go away."

Blaise glanced over his shoulder, than turned his incredulous gaze back to her. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Oh, we're not alone, Blaise," Ginny said, rolling her eyes.

"You'll be alone at this table."

"He's spotted us," she said, watching Malfoy's approach from the corner of her eye. "Make excuses and leave."

Blaise scowled darkly at her and pushed back his chair.

"Leaving so soon, Zabini?" Malfoy drawled, drawing abreast of Ginny's table.

The black-haired Slytherin slowly got to his feet, placing a dangerous eye on Malfoy. "Yes," he ground out, and then shifted to look at Ginny again. "Gin…" She gave him her best please-don't-be-mad-at-me gaze and he let out a slow breath of defeat. "I'll see you at lunch," he said finally. With one last warning glare at Malfoy, he strode out of the library.

"Weasley," Malfoy said as he took the seat Blaise had just vacated.

Ginny stared at him mutely, aware that after she'd protested so much about his presence before, she couldn't very well smile and bat her eyelashes at him. Which was really the extent of her knowledge of flirting.

"Ah, not exactly eloquent at this hour of the morning? Tell me something, Weasley," he drawled, leaning his forearms onto the table and bringing his face closer to hers, "why are you afraid of what--"

"I don't wish to discuss that," she snapped, angry that she'd let him see her that vulnerable, and hurt that he'd throw it back in her face so easily.

"Oh, but I'm incredibly curious. What could you, a brave hearted Gryffindor and cosseted baby Weasley, possibly be afraid of? Have you ever been in the dark?" he nearly growled.

She knew he wasn't simply talking of the differences between day and night, and she bit her lip, curling her fingers into her palms. "You don't know where I've been, Malfoy," she said in a harsh whisper.

His lips twisted up in a mocking grin that didn't meet his eyes. "Enlighten me."

A part of her wanted to tell him, wanted to spill everything. Tell him about the things she'd done in the dark, about the monster who'd made her do them, and how she was afraid that she was capable of much worse if she'd only let the darkness swallow her whole. Tom. He'd lived in the dark, hadn't he? And some deeper part of herself. Sometimes she felt as though a beam of light was all that kept her sane and good.

It was all irrational fancies, of course. Harry had saved her from the fate she'd led herself into, and everyone had said that it certainly hadn't been her fault. That it couldn't have been helped. That it could have been anyone, really. There was no reason that she was singled out, chosen as Tom Riddle's means to an end. Sometimes, what they'd told her made sense.

But she wasn't about to bare her soul to Malfoy, of all people.

"It doesn't matter," she said finally, slamming her book shut and shuffling her notes together. "Was there something that you needed, Malfoy?"

"Other than your charming presence?" he smirked.

Although it was a perfect opportunity to test out her newly formulated plan, Ginny found herself at a loss. She wasn't in a particularly good mood anymore, and Malfoy was doing his best to make it even worse. "Obviously," she drawled, and his brows shot up in mild admiration.

"Impressive, Weasley. Would you care to go for a walk?" he asked.

Ginny tried to hide her surprise. That was not at all the response she'd been prepared for. "What?"

"A walk. Outside, specifically, with all the trees and grass and such."

He wanted to go for a walk? It was to her advantage, of course, but she couldn't help wondering why. It wasn't quite as odd as his attempt at an apology the day before, but it was running along the same lines.

Curious, she agreed to go.

They walked out of the castle in what could only be described as companionable silence, although on Ginny's part the silence was merely a result of mild panic. Should she touch him? Brush against his side? She was holding herself too stiffly and she knew she couldn't fool him into thinking she was relaxed in his presence. Everything felt completely wrong.

"Beautiful day isn't it?" she commented lamely.

He gave a noncommittal hum, gazing off into the distance as he led her towards the lake.

"Bright and, er… sunny," she went on, clasping her hands behind her back in a nervous gesture.

"Let's stick with silence, shall we, Weasley?"

Ginny clenched her teeth in annoyance, but stopped trying to strike up a conversation with the frustrating prat. Strangely, after several minutes of walking quietly along next to the Slytherin, the cool breeze on her face in direct contrast to the warm autumn sun, Ginny found herself relaxing into her stride. It was a beautiful day, and the fact that it was Malfoy walking beside her didn't detract from its uplifting effects.

She could forget, for a little while, that something vital lay in the balance.

They walked halfway around the lake before Malfoy stopped and lowered himself to the grass. After a moment's hesitation, Ginny joined him, curling her legs underneath her and folding her hands neatly in her lap. She felt a bit like a lowly retainer awaiting her lord's bidding.

He slanted her a contemplative look. "You're something of an enigma, Weasley," he drawled.

Ginny's eyes widened. He thought she was confusing?

"I can't quite decide what to do with you," he continued, playing idly with a blade of grass. "You're argumentative, quick to anger and passion. And now you're suddenly being cooperative, and I can't help but think there's a reason for that. Care to explain?"

"No reason, Malfoy," she forced out, thinking quickly. "You've simply piqued my curiosity. An apology, a peaceful stroll around the lake… one would think you're becoming infatuated with me."

Instead of a firm denial, he gave her an unreadable stare. "Perhaps. One never knows."

Ginny's heart was pounding so badly she could feel it in her throat. She wasn't sure if she felt like whooping for joy or throwing up. He all but admitted he was infatuated with her, one step below love. Or, at least, fairly close to it.

"Or," he added, "I could simply be trying to prevent certain… events from coming to light."

For a moment she thought he was referring to the book, but quickly realized that it wasn't possible. This Malfoy had no inklings of that future. Involuntarily, her eyes dropped to his left arm.

"Ah, I see you know what I was alluding to," he said lightly.

She flicked her gaze back to his and licked her lips. "It's none of my business."

"You're right. However, I can't help but suspect you'd share what little information you had gleaned," he said, dancing around the subject, "be it true or untrue."

"I mean it," she said firmly, shaking her head. "It's none of my business. I don't care."

"You don't, do you?" he practically purred, cupping her chin in his hand. "Don't want to be the one who saves Draco Malfoy from a fate worse than death?"

"Is there such a thing?"

"I would think you'd know, Weasley." He quirked an eyebrow, waiting for her response.

"Death's a looming constant, Malfoy," she whispered. "There isn't anything worse than the inevitable."

"Do you honestly believe that?" he laughed harshly.

Taken aback by his laughter, she merely shrugged. His behavior was slightly frightening and entirely what she wouldn't expect from him. "It's almost time for lunch," she said tightly. "I've got to get back."

"Don't let me keep you," he said, but rose to his feet and held out a hand to help her to hers.

Giving his fingers a wary glance, Ginny slipped her palm into his and let him pull her up, then quickly dropped it in the pretense of brushing off her robes. When she squared her shoulders and met his gaze again, she was startled to see a genuine smile pulling at his lips, the good humor reflected in his silver eyes. "What?"

Reaching out, he flicked a thumb across her cheek, catching a stray lock of hair and pushing it behind her ear. "Nothing," he said, then turned and started back for the castle. Ginny couldn't do anything but follow.

******

Hermione had absolutely no idea where she stood with Zabini, and it was causing her no small amount of frustration.

The night before, they'd talked easily, speculating on what Harry was and wasn't telling them about the book, sitting side-by-side on the Gryffindor common room couch. He'd questioned her endlessly about the DA, the Room of Requirement, and the logistics of translating a Centaur map. And when it'd came time for him to go, he had merely stood up, nodded goodnight, and walked from the room.

She would have thought, after all that had happened between them, that she'd at least rated a goodnight kiss.

So now she was sitting in the Tower, Transfiguration book open, fresh scroll awaiting her quill, and she couldn't think about anything except Zabini. She tapped her quill point impatiently on the parchment and huffed when an ink blotch spread out from the tip. He was completely ruining her concentration.

Leaning back in her chair with a sigh, she decided there was only one thing for it. She was going to have to find Zabini and pin him down until he gave her a clear and concise answer about the two of them - she wasn't averse to choking him against a wall again.

She noted with some satisfaction that it was nearly lunchtime and, leaving her books in a neat pile, she stalked out the portrait hole and down to the Great Hall, working herself up into an indignant tizzy and determined to confront the dark-haired Slytherin.

Ron waved at her as she entered the Hall, but she ignored him. She'd been brooding about the boy all morning, and she wasn't about to be waylaid.

Zabini had glanced up at her as she entered the chamber, giving her a tentative smile that quickly melted into a frown as she strode towards him, hands clenched at her sides.

"Zabini," she said tightly, crossing her arms under her breasts.

Pansy's mouth parted on a scathing remark, but was quickly silenced by a low warning growl from Zabini.

"Hermione. What can I do for you?" he asked politely.

Some of her anger melted at his use of her proper name, but his distant tone twisted her heart. "We need to talk."

He glanced around the table, taking in his housemates' disgruntled expressions before settling his gaze on her again. "What about?"

"What about?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "What do you mean, what about? You know damn well what about."

"Um…" He swallowed, his eyes growing just a tad frantic at the public display Hermione was putting on. "Maybe we should go somewhere more private?"

Hermione huffed and waited, impatiently tapping her foot as Zabini rose from his seat.

They walked silently from the room, many students eying them curiously, and the minute the door slammed behind them, Zabini said, "Is this about the meeting tonight? Because I really don't think it was a good idea to trap me at the Slytherin table. There aren't many I would trust. Millie maybe," he added thoughtfully. "She's got a good sized brain in her head, for a Bulstrode."

"This isn't about the DA, Zabini," Hermione hissed, giving him a sharp poke in the chest. "This is about you and me."

"You… and me?" Zabini asked slowly.

Hermione took a step forward and shoved his shoulder. "Yes."

Zabini eyed her warily, unconsciously bringing a hand up to his neck. "Well, I suppose… that is, I think I… Damn it, Hermione, what do you want me to say? I mean, is this about my kissing you? Because I'm not planning to apologize for it."

"I want you to say that you meant it," she stated stiffly.

His jaw dropped slightly. "That I meant it? What do you take me for, Granger? Do you think I just go around snogging random girls?"

"Don't you?" Hermione asked softly.

"Well, I don't," he shoved a hand through his hair, tipping his head to the ceiling with a muffled curse. "I haven't even thought about any girl but you since the start of term, and you're asking me if I meant it?" Dropping his gaze to her again, he said hoarsely, "I've been working up to kissing you for months, Hermione. Meant it? Merlin, you're thick."

"But… you wanted information… and you…" Hermione stuttered, twisting her fingers together.

"I wanted information because I was worried about you, you twit."

She went on as if she hadn't heard him, eyes trained on his boots. "And then last night you just left and I didn't know what you were about, and I started to think maybe you were just mucking up my emotions, and so… I just want to know, Zabini," she ended emphatically.

At his silence, Hermione shifted on her feet, glancing warily up at his face. He was staring at her with those bright blue eyes narrowed in speculation, his lips pressed together in a firm line. Finally, he said, "I think you should call me Blaise from now on."

Her heart fluttered in her chest, and she knew her eyes had to be filled with as much blatant hopefulness as a puppy's, but she didn't care. "Blaise," she said slowly, as if testing the sound of it on her tongue.

And then he smiled at her, and she hadn't realized until that exact moment that she'd never seen him smile before; a true, happy smile that made his eyes glow.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," a gruff voice bit out behind Blaise as the door to the Great Hall swung closed. Millicent Bulstrode cuffed Blaise on the shoulder, shoving him forward a few steps. "I'm going to be sick if you two don't stop making doe eyes at each other. Get it over with before I shout for Pansy to break this tête-à-tête up permanently."

Blaise shot her a wry look over his shoulder. "Is that your way of warning us about a massive Slytherin exodus?"

"Only moments behind me," she said with surprising cheerfulness.

"We'll have to make this quick, then," Hermione commented lightly, reaching for Blaise's green and silver tie.

Caught off guard, Blaise meekly allowed the Gryffindor to pull him close and press her lips against his, for a split-second holding himself in surprised stiffness. And then his eyes fluttered closed and he melted against her, winding his arms about her waist and slanting his head to kiss her more deeply.

A cough, a loud "Ahem," and a not so gentle push broke them apart. Millicent smirked at them. "I suppose you'll want Malcolm to give up his claim then, eh Blaise?"

"Claim?" Hermione asked, gazing curiously between the two Slytherins.

Blaise shook his head. "You don't want to know."

******

With only an hour left before dinner, Ginny rushed down the hall towards the Room of Requirement, eager to work off some extra energy with her dagger. She'd been wound tight all day, her confusion about Malfoy praying on her mind, his strange behavior making her more than a little wary.

A hand reached out and grabbed her arm as she rounded a corner, and she barely had time to breathe before she was unceremoniously shoved into... Well, she thought, glancing around the chamber as she stumbled inside, at least it was where I wanted to go.

The Room of Requirement was just as she needed to it appear, her practice dummy hanging limply in the center of the room, her targets placed in various positions around the perimeter. The only difference, of course, was the darkened color scheme and the presence of a dozen or so flickering candles surrounding a large four poster bed.

Turning, she glanced up at her captor and snapped, "What?" before she realized it wasn't at all the person she was expecting. "Draco," she whispered, staring up into his gray eyes, alight with a cold fire.

The older version of Draco Malfoy scowled down at her. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Me?"

"Yes, you," he bit out harshly, shaking her. "Just what do you think you're doing? You can't save him, you know. You can only save yourself."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about."

His brows furrowed in an angry line, lips thinning. "I saw you this morning," he growled. "There's nothing you can do to help him. Me." He shook her again and she gripped his arms to steady herself. "My fate's been written, Ginny. You've got to stay away from him or..."

"Or what?" she asked, eyes flashing with defiance. "He'll hurt me? You'll hurt me? I've got news for you, Malfoy. This has nothing to do with saving you." She took hold of his wrist and shoved up his left sleeve, the Dark Mark stark against his pale skin. "Do you think I don't know what path you chose? You're here, aren't you, with this promise of your allegiance?" Her voice gentled and she pressed her palm against the tattoo, the flesh surprisingly cold to touch. "I won't try to save you from your fate, Draco, because I know it would be useless. But your path didn't run smooth, did it? I was a bump, an unexpected detour, a pebble in your shoe, and..." she tipped her face up to his, "you love me."

It wasn't a question and he didn't offer an answer, only pressed his eyes closed, pain writ across his face. "Ginny," he choked out, "something terrible happens--"

She halted his words by placing a finger to his lips. "I don't want to know."

"But you--"

"I don't want to know," she stressed, tightening her grip on his wrist. "This all happened for a reason, this whole..." she floundered for the right word, "mess. Past, present, future. Something had to set it off, right? So why not me? Why not this? God knows I could learn to love you. My body's already half infatuated with you," she added with a quirk of her lips.

His head fell forward to rest on hers, forehead to forehead. "Malfoy doesn't stand a chance."

"Was that encouragement?" she whispered.

"I can't fight you on something I know is true, can I?" he asked just as softly.

A part of Ginny melted inside at his words. "You could, but I'm glad you aren't. Although I suppose I would've felt more justified when I did this," she said, parting her school robes and slipping a hand underneath her skirt, at the same time kicking a foot out and hooking it around his left ankle. Still gripping his left wrist, she toppled him onto his back, and he let out a surprised 'oof' as she landed on top of him, dagger tip pressed to the hollow of his throat.

"Excellent," he wheezed, catching his breath.

"I've been practicing," she said cheekily, rolling off of him and sheathing the dagger.

"I suppose one out of three isn't entirely bad. You aren't that good at taking direction, are you?" he asked as he moved into a sitting position.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you never gave Potter the book and you can't seem to keep your hands off my younger self."

She gave him a confused frown. "But... how did you know I didn't give Harry the book? He has it now."

"I know. I gave it to him," he replied wryly.

"You did?"

"You were sitting on it for nearly three months, Ginny," he said, his voice threaded with reproach. "We were running out of time."

"You were the one who left it on his bed?"

Draco nodded.

"Why didn't you just do that in the first place, then?" she almost huffed.

"Because I mistakenly thought it would be easier if you did it, and because I wanted an excuse to see you," he admitted.

"But why--"

"You didn't want to know, remember?"

Ginny swallowed hard, her mind skittering with all sorts of horrible scenarios. She didn't want to know, of course, but sometimes the imagination could make everything seem ten times worse. "I remember. I haven't changed my mind."

He nodded, and then got to his feet, reaching out a hand to help her up off the cold stone floor. "I won't be coming back," he said as she straightened.

She let out a slow breath. "Okay."

He placed a palm against her face, a soft look in his eyes. Bending down, he brushed his lips across her cheek, burning a path to her ear, then whispered, "I had to love you, Ginny. You never gave me room for anything else." And then he was gone, a flutter of wind in his wake, the shell of her ear still tingling from his breath and tears pricking at the back of her eyes.

Merlin, she already was in love with bastard. She wouldn't have to learn anything at all.

******

Ginny arrived early for the DA meeting after dinner, slipping inside to watch Harry pace back and forth in the center of the room, his empty hands clenching and unclenching behind his back.

"Harry?"

The dark-haired boy paused mid-stride and blinked over at her. "Yeah?"

"You'll need this," Ginny said, moving towards him and holding out her hand.

"Is that…?" He trailed off as she released the Orb into his palm.

She nodded, then whispered softly, "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, his gaze locked on the small sphere, clutching it desperately with his fingers.

"For not giving it to you earlier."

"It was never yours to give," he said, lifting his eyes finally, the green irises overly bright. "He shouldn't have left it with you in the first place."

She opened her mouth to say more, but her words were cut off by the arrival of Hermione and Blaise, followed closely by Ron. Ginny retreated to the back of the room, leaning against the wall as she watched the DA members trickle in a few at a time. When the room was packed, Harry motioned for them to take a seat on the ground, then didn't waste any time starting.

"This," he began, lifting the gold orb up to the crowd, "is a Pulse Orb. Its major function is to disable magic."

A low murmur of apprehension rose from the students.

"It causes a magnetic pulse that renders any Witch or Wizard within approximately one mile of it to lose all magical abilities," he continued.

"But a magnetic pulse that large," Padma tapped her fingers to her chin, "it'd cause an earthquake at the very least."

"Doesn't matter," Harry shook his head. "In two months time, it'll give us five to ten minutes among completely powerless Death Eaters."

The murmur exploded into cries of dismay and disbelief.

"B-but," Neville sputtered. "We'd be powerless too, wouldn't we?"

"Where did you get that thing, Harry?" Susan shouted over her housemate, Zacharias, who'd snorted out, "How d'you know the time, Potter? Two months?"

Harry shook his head and called for everyone to settle down. Hermione, who'd been standing slightly behind him with Ron, stepped forward and placed a hand on his forearm. "What exactly are you suggesting, Harry?"

"What I'm suggesting," Harry said slowly, his gaze wandering over the collected students, "is that we take advantage of our knowledge and the power of the Orb. We're two steps ahead of them at this point; they won't be expecting us to know of the attack, and they definitely won't be expecting to lose their magical abilities."

Understanding dawning, Ginny's arm shot up in the air and she struggled to her feet. "I'm," she straightened her back and stared fixedly at Harry, "I'm fairly proficient with a knife."

He didn't question why, merely nodded, and asked, "Anyone else know how to handle Muggle weaponry?"

"I fence," Blaise offered, giving Ginny a small smile.

Zacharias lifted a hand. "Me, too."

"Grams," Neville blushed, "Grams made me learn how to chop firewood. I'm good with the axe. I think," he added, obviously not wanting to brag about his abilities.

"Good, good. It's a start, anyway," Harry said, absently rubbing his forehead. "We'll need to train, and train hard, because we won't be able to use curses and hexes at all," he went on. "I'm--" he choked on his words and Ron sidled up next to him, clasping a hand on his shoulder in mute support. "I'm not making any promises about this. It could be a disaster. We could be destroyed. And I can't tell you why we have to do this," his voice grew stronger, "or why it's important, or why the alternative would be ten times worse. We have to accept the fact that some of us will die, and that we'll have to live with the memories of killing another human being without benefit of the distance wands give us. It's just the way it is. The way it has to be.

"But you all have a choice." He steeled his gaze and faced his fellow students with a fierce gleam in his eyes. "I can't make you do this, nor would I ever want to. And I can't say that if you don't fight, I'll understand, because that would be a lie. Because to me, the fight is all we have left."

Hermione clutched his upper arm. "You know something we don't, Harry. Don't you?" she asked desperately, his words having chilled her to the bone.

"No," he said loudly.

And Ginny knew he was lying. They all knew it. And perhaps it was because of that, that everyone left the room determined to fight with every last breath in their body.