Dark Lord's Little Helper

Draco Malfoy, Arachnid Hunter

When Ron and Harry saw Draco, Ginny was almost certain there was going to be a fight. Fred and George had Floo'd back to their flat over the shop, so they wouldn't add to the commotion, but Ginny knew there'd be quite enough without them, although they'd be sorry they missed it.

Draco scowled horribly at them before following Mrs. Weasley into the kitchen, while Ron howled, "What is HE doing here?"

Harry merely pushed his glasses up his nose and glared at Malfoy as if his life depended on it. Which, Ginny had to admit, it very well might--at least in a way. Glaring wasn't going to help anything, but Draco may have been sent to get at Harry, so he certainly warranted keeping an eye on. Ginny was determined to do just that.

So thinking, she plunked herself down in the chair beside him, while her mother scooped extra-large helpings of kidney pie onto plates for Harry and Draco, and more regular sized servings for everyone else. Harry dug in happily, while Draco tried valiantly to mask his disgust. When Molly was finally finished serving, she got a plate for herself, and Draco leapt to pull her seat out for her.

Everyone stared.

"What. Are you. Doing?" Ron enquired through clenched teeth, his face red.

"Pardon me," Draco responded superciliously. "That's just what we do where I come from, when a lady is about to sit. I'm sorry if that was some sort of gross faux-pas, in your world."

"Not at all," Molly immediately countered, obviously taken with the lad. "That was a very sweet gesture." Ron looked like he might explode, and Harry put a hand on his arm. "Now, Arthur. Tell me what's going on, that Dumbledore felt we could be of service."

As Arthur explained, glossing over some details, Ron and Harry glowered at Draco with seething ire, while Draco picked non-existent bits of lint from his sleeves with great nonchalance.

Ron and Harry tried to interrupt a couple of times to ask questions, but were told that it was 'you-know-what business,' and they oughtn't ask poor Draco anything, either. Ginny's mum was of the opinion he'd been through enough. Ginny overheard her saying so later, explaining to Ron and Harry that they should be nice to the other boy.

"Just think how you'd feel, if your father and I had sent you off to serve a madman, without a second thought," she admonished Ron.

"Couldn't be worse than when I was younger and you let the twins sit for me," Ron countered.

"That isn't funny, Ron," Molly said in a scandalized tone. "Imagine your own family turning against you like that! It's a crime, is what it is. And now that poor boy is all alone, and you're to be nice to him, do you understand? It took a great deal of bravery for him to do what he did."

"What; chicken out and run to Dumbledore for protection?" Harry later whispered to Ron in a scoffing voice.

"It's a plot to get you, Harry," Ron replied in a tense voice. "You mark my words. We'll have to sleep in shifts, to make sure the bugger doesn't try anything funny."

"Right," Harry nodded seriously. "And if he does try something, I'm ready to hex him to Haiti. Who got the best Defence end of years in the school? I did. Who lived through an attack by Voldemort before he was old enough to walk? I did. Who--"

"--Brags so much you'd think his head would burst like an overripe fruit?" a teasing voice came from the hall, and the kids turned to see Remus Lupin standing in the hall with his arms crossed, leaning against the wall.

"Remus!" Harry crowed, running over to the man. "Why are you here?"

The werewolf sighed. "Checking in on the runaway," he explained. "And dropping in to see my favourite students. How've you been, Harry? Did the two of you see the Puddlmere-Chudley game?"

"It was great!" Harry responded with enthusiasm, and Ginny retreated to the living room.

As she took her favourite book of the shelf and settled into the springy sofa to read a while, Ginny reflected that she agreed with Ron and Harry about the whole thing. Malfoy had to be after Harry. It was the only possible explanation. After all, he was a total creep, and had practically bragged about his father being a Death Eater. He did everything he could to make Harry's life a living hell. Harry...

Ginny's head fell back as she began fantasizing. She'd always had a crush on Harry. He was just so brave and nice and honest. And totally not interested in you, a dry voice in her head spoke up, and she sighed unhappily. It was true; Harry had never shown the slightest inclination that he might fancy her. Well, it wasn't so bad. She was pretty much over Harry. Part of it had to do with growing up. Another part just had to do with her own sense of pride.

Ginny had tried being what she though Harry wanted; sporty, cute, dependant, daring. Nothing worked. She'd studied Cho Chang, and eventually decided that the only thing Chang was that she wasn't was Asian. And while Ginny liked Harry an awful lot, she wasn't going to go changing her race to make him like her. That was just stupid. Besides, she was proud of being a Weasley, and being a Weasley meant red hair and freckles. If she didn't have red hair, she wouldn't be a Weasley, and then what would she be?

Ginny's book fell onto her lap, forgotten. Still, it'd be nice if someone noticed me, she reckoned. Michael Corner had seemed forever ago, and Dean Thomas had told her flat out that she was too young for his tastes. She thought that might have had something to do with the way Ron looked homicidal whenever Dean got near, though. Leaning her head against the back of the couch, Ginny drifted off thinking about boys, and magic, and princes who knew how to waltz and didn't belch loudly or light things on fire.

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"Draco, dear, you can stay in Bill's old room," Mrs. Weasley informed him. "It's a bit small, but it's got a nice view of the garden. Why don't you run along and take your things up, and get settled in?"

Draco scowled, but did as he was told. They were only trying to get rid of him in order to 'discuss the situation' without him around, he was sure. Bloody Weasleys didn't even offer to carry his things up, and Dumbledore had stressed the fact that he must not use magic before going back to Hogwarts. Bunch of sadists. Once he got upstairs, he found the Weasel blocking the way.

"Where's Potty?" he inquired politely, although it wasn't as though he actually cared.

"Changing," Ron replied. "We take turns, so we don't have to...you know, see each other."

Draco smirked. "Rampant masculinity in the modern age," he remarked dryly. He tried to step around the Weasel, but Ron didn't budge for him. "Move it, you penniless tosser," he ordered. "I need to get past."

"This is my house, Malfoy, and you don't order me around in it, understand?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Your lovely mother sent me to put my things away, so why don't you move so I can do just that?"

"Don't you talk about my mother that way!" Ron shouted, causing Draco to roll his eyes again.

"Don't force me to manhandle you, Weasel," Draco warned, bunching up his fist as Ron towered over him

Suddenly, the redhead screamed. "Aughh! Get it away from me!"

Draco found this very satisfying. "Hah. That's right, chap...now you know what you're messing with!"

"Don't be stupid!" Ron hollered at him, covering his head with his arms. "I wasn't talking about you! I was talking about the spider!"

"There's a spider?" Harry's muffled voice called through the door. "Don't worry," he added, sounding rather hassled. "I'll take care of it in a minute."

Malfoy looked up to see a rather large, hairy arachnid slowly descending from the ceiling. "Ugh," he grunted, disgusted. "And I had hoped you people were the only vermin, here."

"Augh! Augh! It's coming after me!" Ron cried hysterically as the spider dropped another foot, coming within a few inches of him. He squashed himself up against the wall to get away from it, cowering.

"I'll get it in a second," Harry called out, exasperated. "I just need to find my pyjama top. I'm sure I have one..."

Malfoy scowled at the door. "You need Potter to save you from insects, too? Hey, Potter, is that in the job description for Saviour of the Wizarding World? 'Able to wield mighty swords, leap tall buildings, and eradicate small household pests?'" He glanced down at Weasley, who was whimpering. Apparently, he did need Potter to save him from spiders.

"Hurry, Harry," Ron moaned, grimacing.

Draco sighed. "For Merlin's sake, he's not the only one who can vanquish this particular little foe. Just calm down and try not to wet yourself," he ordered, looking around for a likely object. Finally he settled on Molly Weasley's small statue of Yorrick the Yokel, yanked it off the top of the display case, and brandished it wildly. "Ha! I am Malfoy, Lord of the Spider Slayers!" He made a wild swipe at the spider and missed, cutting the thread it was clinging to.

It tumbled to the floor and scuttled towards Ron, who promptly began shrieking like a banshee.

"Oh, stop being such a baby," Draco muttered. He raised the statue above his head.

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When Ginny awoke, she knew she couldn't have been asleep long, because there were still voices in the hallway. Agitated voices. Groggily, she sat up. Was that Ron? Why was he gibbering like that? He sounded frightened. Getting to her feet, she began gingerly making her way toward the commotion.

She turned the corner in time to see her brother crouched on the floor, arms curled round his head and legs protectively. Draco was standing next to him, with her grandmother's heirloom statue held high above his head.

"One whack and it'll all be over!" He brought the statue down in an arc, hitting the floor by Ron's foot.

Ginny gaped in horror.

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Draco missed. The spider ran under Ron's leg, causing the redhead to squeal and writhe away. "Augh! Get away!" Ron screamed.

The arachnid tried to cram itself into the relative safety of the crack where the wall met the floor. "Get back here, I'm not through with you!" Draco shouted, by now rather enjoying himself in the role of Insect Hunter. He raised his arm to give the bug a final whack, when he was suddenly tackled by a small, redheaded fury.

"Don't you dare!" Ginny was screeching angrily. "I'll teach you to try murdering my brother!" They tumbled and rolled across the hall, Draco valiantly attempting to fend off her wild blows, which were going to leave marks, damn it.

"Are you MAD?" he howled. "Get off of me, you red haired wench!" He squirmed, trying to shove her off, but Ginny was sitting on his knees and had him well pinned.

Ron was being of no use, still squalling and trying to get away from the spider. The door to the room flew open, and Potter leapt out, shoe in hand. "Where is it?" he panted, ignoring Ginny and Draco. He plonked the shoe down a couple of times, dispatching the unfortunate spider.

Ginny was too busy to take any notice of this. "Ha! You thought it'd be safe to attack him when I was the only one around, did you?" Ginny snarled. "NEVER mess with a WEASLEY!" The ferret was struggling and shoving, but he was no match for the fiery haired girl. "I'll see you in Azkaban for attempted murder!" she yowled. Draco clapped a hand over her mouth. Ginny bit down hard.

Draco yelped. "AAAUUUGGGHH! Your rabid brat of a sister just BIT ME! I'M GOING TO SUE!"

"Ginny!" Ron cried, and hurried to haul the girl off of Malfoy. "Stop it, Ginny; what's the matter with you?"

By now, Mister and Mrs. Weasley had arrived on the scene, as well as Remus Lupin. They were all crowded around, trying to figure out what was going on.

"I saw the whole thing! He was going to bludgeon you!" Ginny declared to Ron dramatically, pointing at Draco. "I had to do something, so I tackled him. It worked, didn't it? I managed to hold him down until you could get up again."

"You little twit," Ron said with amused irritation. "He wasn't going to bludgeon me, he was aiming for the spider."

"I've killed it," Harry said quietly, holding it up by a leg. "I'll just throw it outside, shall I?" he added, as Ron shuddered.

"And there goes my moment of glory," Draco sighed. "All because of a meddling little girl."

"Shut up, Malfoy," Ginny glared. Ron was starting to snicker at her, and even Harry was laughing as he left to dispose of the spider. How was she to know there was a spider involved? It wasn't as though she could even see it from that far away. Her mother patted her shoulder.

"I think it's past someone's bedtime."

Ginny flushed with anger. "Look, all I saw was Malfoy standing over Ron with a statue in his hand, yelling about whacking him. All right? It was an honest mistake."

Remus was helping Draco to his feet, while her dad apologized to the ferret. "I'm sure she didn't mean anything by it," he explained. "Ginny just gets a bit excited sometimes. I'm sorry she overreacted."

With a frustrated shake of her head, Ginny fled to the sanctuary of her bedroom.

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Draco couldn't sleep. Part of that was because of the ghoul in the attic, who had seemed to take rather a shine to Draco and enjoyed stomping back and forth above his head. Draco had yelled at it and thrown a shoe at the ceiling, but this had not improved matters, especially as said shoe had hit him on the head on its return earthward. He rubbed the lump, scowling upward.

The ghoul, however, was a rather minor problem compared to everything else in his life. For one thing, Draco was far from everything he ever knew, minus the Weasleys, which was a damn shame to put it lightly. He was outcast from his own kind. It was a tragedy. Unwanted, unappreciated, he'd been thrown to the wolves, having to make his way amongst the savages and little people, so unlike his ilk. He didn't know what an ilk was, but he liked the sound of it.

It wasn't really like that, though. No one had thrown him out, exactly. They were just ready to turn him into some poor, sacrificial lamb. His own family! Not that he was terribly surprised; his own father had hinted that Grandfather Malfoy had needed the assistance of a pillow over the face in his reclining years; murder was practically a family tradition.

No, the fact that his father had been prepared to shunt him into the service of a whack job who might get him killed hadn't been the bit that bothered him the most. What bothered him the most was that his father was in the service of a psycho. He supposed he saw the sense in Lucius deciding to bow down to Lord Voldemort--after all, it had to be better than dying a thousand fiery deaths. On the other hand, that his father was serving anyone was a painful thought. He was supposed to be a Malfoy, not a--a second banana. He'd never thought of his father as a second banana, a henchman. It was a disturbing idea. Henchhood happened to other people. Henchpeople served the Malfoys. It was the natural order of things.

Suddenly, Draco had an odd panging feeling. Was he lonely? He didn't suppose he knew. He was an only child, after all. And it wasn't as though he had any actual friends. He had Crabbe and Goyle, henchmen in their own right. While it was a fulfilling relationship in a number of ways, there were times when trying to carry on a conversation with one or the other of them left him unsatisfied. As droning henchmen they were perfect, but they were ill adapted for actual friendship. After all, they could hardly keep up with Draco in witty repartee, and it was highly doubtful either of them could spell Machiavellian, let alone truly assist in any grand schemes of that nature. No, Draco was completely alone.

His stomach felt hollow, and he rolled onto it, revelling in self-pity. How thoroughly unappreciated he was! Why could no one see the inherent greatness of Draco Malfoy? His stomach gave a little lurch. Perhaps he was lonely. Is that what this had all led to, then? Was he to be reduced to the ranks of the lowly rabble that assaulted the great castle with their torches and pitchforks? Would he be forgotten, relegated to the footnotes of history? It was so unfair. And he was lonely. What else could explain that empty feeling inside?

His stomach growled. Wait a moment; you're not lonely, you're hungry, you wealthy, charming jackass! You've had nothing to eat all night. He sat up. Perhaps there was something, somewhere in the pantry downstairs that was just edible. He had to try. He owed it to the world not to starve to death. Throwing his silk robe over his shoulders, he padded to the door to find some food. Ha! he thought. I'm not lonely! I'm Draco Malfoy! Draco Malfoy is an island! He needs no one! He needs nothing! Except, perhaps, a lovely bit of pate and a few crackers...

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Ginny tossed and turned. They'd laughed at her. Like she was a stupid child! It was so unfair. Why did no one understand? It was so hard to be the youngest. Nobody took her seriously enough. She had a lot to offer the world--she just wished the world would see that.

Sighing, she sat up. Maybe a glass of water would help her think more clearly. After all, it didn't do to sulk about it. Life with the twins had taught her at an early age that crying never helped anything. If you landed on your tailbone, you got right back up, dusted yourself off, and tried to see where you went wrong. If she had gone wrong. After all, if Malfoy had missed and whomped Ron on the head, the little ferret probably wouldn't have been very sorry.

Stepping into her slippers, she slipped quietly out her door. There had to be something she could do to make them all see what an asset she'd be to the Order. After all, Ron and Harry were the ones who always did stupid things and got into trouble. At least she was sensible.

As she began making her way down the hall, Ginny heard a strange noise and froze, listening. She strained her eyes and saw a shadowy form slinking towards Ron's room from the opposite direction. A beam of moonlight glinted off the prowler's hair, and Ginny held back a gasp. Malfoy. And it looked as though he was still after Harry--or perhaps Ron. He was reaching his hand out and touching the door...

"Malfoy! What are you doing sneaking around the house in the dead of night?" she hissed, grabbing his arm and yanking him away from the door.

"Unhand me, you wretched, redheaded rottweiler!" he responded in an indignant whisper. "I've still got tooth marks across my palm, thanks to you."

"I didn't bite you that hard--and anyway, you deserved it," she shot back.

"You did bite me that hard; I bled," he responded. "And if that's the thanks I get for selflessly attempting to rescue your brother from a venomous, fanged tarantula, then I'm not certain the hero-ing gig is worth it."

"I saw that spider--that Harry killed--and it wasn't fanged or venomous!"

"It might have been! You can't prove it wasn't!"

"Malfoy! What are you doing wandering round the house?" she demanded.

"I'm hungry, if you must know," he informed her. "I couldn't subsist on your mother's various-organ pie, so I thought I'd rummage in the kitchens and see if I could find something."

"My mother is a wonderful cook!" Ginny replied, outraged. "Just ask Harry! He loves everything she makes."

"Excuse me for pointing this out, but wasn't Potter raised in a cupboard and fed table scraps for most of his life? According to popular legend, anyway. Look, I just need a slice of bread or something. I've eaten all the oranges Dixie packed, and the smoked meat is frankly rancid. I'm going to starve if I can't get a snack of some sort."

Ginny frowned. "Well, I--"

A muffled shout interrupted her, and Draco cocked his head. "Did that come from your brother's room?"

Ginny scrabbled for the door handle. "Yes! It must be Voldemort!"

"Auughghh! I knew it! He's here to burn his hideous logo into my beautiful skin!" He turned to flee back down the hallway, but Ginny grabbed hold of his robe. "Let go! You'll tear the silk!" he cried.

"You idiot! He's not after you; he wants Harry," she informed him.

He tried to jerk the fabric from her grip. "How does that improve anything? Let me go so I can polish my running away and screaming skills!"

"Black snake! Black....snake!" Harry's voice yelled hoarsely, and they could hear Ron muttering anxiously behind the door.

"We have to save them!" Ginny roared at Draco. "You stand here and fight like a man, damn it! Or am I going to have to thump you?" She gave him her most menacing look, and said, "Which one of us are you more afraid of? I'm the one that's holding your robe."

Draco sighed. "And I know from first hand experience that you do bite," he said. "Very well." He slipped his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at the door. "We'll do this on the count of three. One...two...three!"