Dark Lord's Little Helper

TITLE: Dark Lord's Little Helper

AUTHOR: StarryGazer

The Good Side: No Fascists, No Fashion Sense

Ten minutes later, Ginny was still waiting for her father to arrive, but that didn't bother her greatly, as Draco was throwing a rather entertaining fit. Somehow she thought it had been provoked by her arrival, but she honestly didn't see how this could be.

He stood there, face now red rather than white, screaming and stomping his foot like a little girl about to threaten to hold her breath until she got her way. The Auror was ignoring him placidly, but Ginny stared without shame. After all, she wasn't acting like the two year old.

"I've been waiting almost an hour!" he shouted.

"Half an hour," the Security Auror corrected calmly, sitting at his desk and flipping through Wartime Wood, a catalogue of assault wands.

"I demand to see the Minister this instant! Or the Headmaster of Hogwarts! Or SOMEONE! I'm a valuable resource with important information!" Draco continued to holler.

"Sure you are," the Auror muttered, not really paying attention.

"Why do you want to see Dumbledore?" Ginny blurted before she could stop herself.

Draco glared at her, hunching his shoulders. "Mind your own business, you filthy little Mudblood lover." Ginny frowned and stepped forward, and he scowled harder. "You stay away from me," he warned. "I don't want whatever diseases you people get from having to recycle your toilet paper to save money."

Ginny didn't bother with a gasp of outrage. She merely swung. And Ginny, unlike Hermione, had grown up in a family of boys, and knew how to fight--with her fists, not any namby-pamby open palms. Even Charlie had admitted Ginny had a mean right hook. She used it to knock Draco to the floor.

"Now, that's enough," the Security Auror said complacently. He stood and put a hand on Ginny's shoulder.

Draco's eyes were wide, and his mouth was open. It opened wider and wider as he stared at her. "You hit me!" he finally noted indignantly.

"Glad you noticed," she replied. "Otherwise it would've meant I did it wrong."

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Professor Dumbledore arrived at the scene before Ginny's dad, and it made Ginny feel rather speculative; where had Dumbledore been that he could have arrived before someone who actually worked in the building? On the other hand, the Security Auror had professed to have sent for the man as soon as Draco had arrived, so Dumbledore had had a good amount of time to get there. Perhaps it was merely a coincidence.

The Headmaster was wearing a rather oriental-looking set of robes, and his eyes were merry. "Hello, Miss Weasley," he greeted her warmly. "How good to see you. And with a plate of your mother's fine meatloaf, as well!"

"I'm over HERE!" Malfoy shouted impatiently. "We don't have time for small talk or little girls or Mrs. Weasley's Famous Mud-on-a-Plate! It's a matter of life and death. And unsightly blemishes on my beautiful skin!"

Dumbledore didn't look at the boy, but Ginny couldn't help her head swiveling round to eye him again. Blemishes on his beautiful skin? Why would Malfoy go to Dumbledore over spots? And the dark arts were chock-full of beauty charms and spells. Maybe Draco didn't know that? His skin looks just fine to me, anyway, Ginny thought to herself. It's as smooth as milk and just as pale. Oh my God. Did I just think that about Draco Malfoy, of all people? Ginny swallowed and looked away from the ferret. Yes, you did, her conscious assured her. You're obviously losing your mind.

Draco was talking now, angry and unrelenting, pointing his finger at Dumbledore and gesticulating wildly. His eyes were dark, and a lock of perfect white gold fell across them, only to be pushed back impatiently by an elegant hand. Ginny stared. She'd rarely seen Malfoy this riled up about anything. He was...passionate. And what was worse; it looked good on him. Please, kill me now.

Ginny wrenched her eyes away from Draco, and looked at the Headmaster instead. He was gazing right back at her, his eyes glittering and shrewd. It was so unlike what Ginny typically experienced with the man that she blinked. By the time her eyes had focused again, Dumbledore was looking elsewhere, his eyes now rather distant. She forced herself to focus on his words. "I agree that it is interesting, Mister Malfoy--but it's also a great pity that you cannot tell me more. Voldemort is 'far' from Malfoy Manor. But I, myself, was far from Malfoy Manor until I received your missive."

"In Asia?" Ginny piped up, feeling left out.

Dumbledore turned those intense blue eyes on her again, and she felt a little exposed. Then, however, he smiled gently, and Ginny pulled herself together. "Why, yes! What gave it away?"

"Your robes, sir. You look like...like you're wearing a kimono." She stared at the outfit, blue silk with gold house elves and dragons embroidered all over it. Ginny wasn't a fashion snob, but she still had to admit the whole ensemble was beyond tacky.

"And the whole ensemble is beyond tacky," Draco muttered, causing Ginny to twitch a little. Had he read her mind? No...probably not. Definitely not. It was just...a weird coincidence. Ginny stared at the boy as he scowled at Dumbledore.

"...and now, here's Arthur, and isn't it perfect?" Dumbledore was saying. As he'd clearly been speaking for some time, and Ginny didn't want him to know she hadn't been paying one bit of attention, she simply nodded.

"What?" screeched Draco, sounding more like his aunt than he knew. "You can't be agreeing with him, Weasley? You'd hate it every bit as much as I would! This is insane! I came here for political asylum, and instead of being treated with the respect I deserve; I get put in with the under-bred, over-procreating peasants? I can't believe this!"

Ginny glared at him. "My family is still better than your inbred, self-important, bigoted relatives."

"Now, children, that's quite enough of that," Dumbledore told them, turning to beam at Mister Weasley as he strode up. "Ah, Arthur. Just the man I wanted to see! It seems that young Mister Malfoy, here, has defected, and is desirous of our protection. He flew all the way from Shropshire tonight, in order to bring us news of Voldemort's intentions. I thought that, perhaps, with most of your older children having flown the nest, perhaps you might have room to accommodate the lad."

Arthur looked rather surprised. "Well, yes..." he turned a suspicious eye on Draco, before glancing back at the headmaster. "Perhaps this is something we ought to discuss in private before coming to any decisions. Ginny, Mister Malfoy has come a long way in one evening; perhaps he's hungry. Why don't you make him a plate of that meatloaf while Dumbledore and I have a quick chat."

"Sure, Dad," Ginny said numbly as she watched her father and the headmaster walk down the hall a little ways. The guard went back to his magazine. Gritting her teeth, she turned to Draco. "Did you want some--"

"I'd rather eat my own underwear, thanks very much," Draco replied quickly.

"That could be arranged," Ginny returned, but her heart wasn't in it. She was staring at the back of her father's head, and watching Dumbledore gesticulate. She wished she could read his lips. "What happened, Malfoy? You didn't really switch sides?"

"It's none of your concern," he answered haughtily.

"It will be if you'll be sleeping in my house for the next few weeks before term starts," she pointed out.

"I will not be accepting your...gracious but substandard offer of lodgings," he sniffed. "I am sure the Minister will be able to find somewhere more suitable for a Malfoy to stay."

"Like Azkaban?" Ginny suggested archly. She fully expected him to flare up at this, but the boy merely became pensive and looked away.

After a short while, Arthur returned with the headmaster and led Ginny aside. "Draco is going to be staying with us until the start of term," he informed her. "Dumbledore would like us to get him out of here quickly, before the Minister arrives."

"What? Why? And why does it have to be us? There are plenty of other people in the you-know-what who could take him!" She gave her father a pleading glance, thinking unhappily of how much the ferret was going to laugh at their home, and probably everything in it.

"Ginny, don't argue," Arthur responded. "Your mother and I are well equipped to deal with this sort of thing, none of the others can say the same. After your brothers, Draco Malfoy will be a breeze. Just look at him!" he added. "He looks far too frail to get into much mischief. He's probably used to being waited on hand and foot. Well, your mother will instil some work ethic into the lad. Besides," he added, dropping his voice to a whisper, "We can't rule out the possibility that this is some sort of trick to let the Death Eaters get close to Harry. I'll need your help keeping a close eye on him. You won't let me down, will you, Firecracker?"

"No, Dad," Ginny responded with a sigh. She knew he was only trying to placate her, but it was a good idea. Draco might be out to get Harry. If he did, Ginny would be there to stop him. If not, there was always a chance she'd learn something valuable about the Death Eaters from the son of one of their most prominent members. "He can sleep in Bill's old room." Maybe the ghoul in the attic would get him.

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"Good Lord!" were Draco's first words upon laying eyes on the Burrow. "This is even worse than Stoke-on-Trent!"

Ginny shot him a glare, but Mister Weasley merely smiled tightly. "Well, it's not much, but we like to call it home," he said with forced cheer.

"Home?" Draco repeated scornfully. "You'd be better off calling it condemned." He turned to Ginny with an air of despair. "Why, oh why, of all the things your delinquent brothers have managed to set alight over the years, have they not managed to torch this dump?"

Arthur was already on his way into the house, and so had to turn and come back when Draco started howling. He found the poor guy on the ground, with Ginny straddling his legs, attempting to shove the entire meatloaf down his throat. "Now, Ginny," he admonished, taking her by the arm and pulling her away from the struggling youth. "That is no way to treat guests. What would your mother think if she knew?"

"If I knew what?" Mrs. Weasley's voice came from the doorway. "And where have the two of you been? Ginny, you did not have permission to leave the house, and what happened to the meatloaf I made for supper? I left it on the stove, and now its disappeared. The boys swore that they cleaned out all the brownies, or I would think it had to be them."

"Er. Draco Malfoy's here, Mum," Ginny spoke up, seeing that her father was suddenly having second thoughts about bringing a strange child home to be looked after, without first consulting her famously volatile mother. She gave a sidelong look at the pale-haired young man beside her. "And he ate the meatloaf."

Her mother squinted in the porch light. "Who on earth is Draco Malfoy?"

"I categorically deny devouring any of that...stuff," Draco announced with great distaste.

"Let's all go in," Arthur suggested. "Molly dear, I know you're not going to be terribly pleased, but Albus has a bit of an undertaking for us. I'm not sure where to start explaining. I'm starving--do we have anything in the house to eat, besides the meatloaf?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake; come inside, all of you," Molly ordered. "Of course I can make you a plate of something. What about you, dear?" she asked, turning to Malfoy. "You're a willowy little thing, aren't you? You haven't been fed right; I can tell. You're even thinner than Harry, and I swear that boy is more concaves than curves. You're peckish, aren't you? Come in; come in, boy. We have some leftover kidney pie, you can have a nice serving of that."

Draco trailed behind the others, looking vaguely horrified. "Kidney pie? You've got to be kidding me."

Ginny elbowed him, hard, and hissed, "Don't you insult my mother or Fred and George will put a venomous spider in your ear while you sleep."

Draco stared at her for a moment before deciding she was serious. "No thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he told her in a voice resigned to its awful fate. "I've already had a large serving of your delicious meatloaf."