Dark Lord's Little Helper

DEDICATIONS: This story is dedicated to Nori, who told me I was brilliant. She may be right. What am I talking about? Of course sheÕs right!

Oh, and if any of you would like to ask a question of Severus Snape, try tangle_foot on my live journal account. He IS a complete bastard, though, and there are many slashy references. But I like to think he's amusing.


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Prince Charming, or at least Prince Petulant

"One...two...three!"

Ginny turned the knob and threw her weight on it, almost falling into the room. A flash of movement to her right caused her to react by flinging a hand out, snatching hold of the robe of the escaping aristocrat. "Get back here, you bloody chicken!" she growled at him. Draco reluctantly followed her into the room.

There was no sign of Voldemort in Ron's darkened bedroom--just Ron, kneeling on the floor, and Harry stretched out next to him. Harry was twitching in his sleep, and he let out a pained whimper. One hand fumbled blindly up to cover his scar.

Ron looked up at Ginny as she entered the room, his face worried. "I can't wake him up," he told her. "You reckon we ought to wake Dad?"

Draco studied Harry over Ginny's shoulder. He pointed his wand at the sleeping youth, and Ron leapt in front of it.

"Don't even try it, Death Eater in training!" the redhead snarled, arms out defensively, his own wand still sitting on his nightstand.

Draco's face seemed to freeze for a moment, before it took on its characteristic sneer. "Don't be such a drama queen," he retorted, and brushed Ron's hand away, stepping past him and crouching beside Harry. Yanking Harry's hand away from his face, Malfoy pointed his wand at Harry's scar and said crisply, "Cessa Somnia!"

Harry sat up with a gasp, his eyes popping open wide. "Oh my God," he said in a ragged breath.

Ron turned to Ginny, eyes flashing with anger. "Did that sound like a dark spell to you? That sounded like a dark spell to me. Was that a dark spell you just cast on Harry?" he demanded of Malfoy.

Draco inclined his head, acknowledging, without shame, that it was.

"That figures," Ron muttered. "Daddy probably tutored him in the Dark Arts after studies in hair maintenance every morning."

"Oh yes, right after the hour allotted for practicing poisoning the house elves, and just before training to be obsequious to the Dark Lord," Draco responded sarcastically.

Harry rubbed his forehead, groaning. "What happened?"

Ginny leaned over, scrutinizing him with concern. "I think you were having a nightmare. D'you remember what it was about? Was it--was it him?"

Harry nodded, his face in his hands. "I don't really remember much, though."

"You yelled something about a snake; we heard it from the hall," Draco pointed out, and Harry's head snapped up.

"That's right," he said, eyes narrowing. "A black snake. And--and my mother. I think. Voldemort was talking about a snake, and my house and my mother--or her family. Or something," he said. Harry bit his lip. "Reckon he meant the Dursleys?" He looked to Ron.

Ron shrugged uncomfortably. "No knowing, mate. Er...what do you want to do about it? Should I--should I wake Mum and Dad?"

Harry frowned. "I don't know. It's all such a jumble in my head, you know? I kind of want to...think about it awhile. Let's not wake everyone up over it. Let me go back to sleep and see if I dream anything else about him, and maybe I'll have decided what to do by morning."

Even Ron was eyeing Harry uncomfortably. "Er...if you're sure, mate," was all he said.

Draco was less courteous. "You want to have more nightmares? You want to dream about Voldemort? Are you insane?"

Ginny gave Harry a stern look. "Look, Harry; this is what happened...before. When Sirius died. I think you ought to tell someone. You don't want to make the same mistake twice, do you?"

Harry gave her a dark look, his temper beginning to flare. "Why don't you stay out of it?" Ron tried to interrupt, but Harry waved him to silence. "Don't you dare compare this to Sirius getting killed; I'm not rushing off to save the day, am I? All I said is that I want to sleep on it, and I do. Besides, this really isn't any of your business."

Ginny's cheeks burned, and she dug her nails into her palms to keep from bursting out about how stupid and arrogant he was being. "You're not going to let him, are you Ron?" she asked her brother.

Ron didn't meet her eyes. "Well...it's not as if I can stop him, and anyway, it is his decision. I mean...just let up, would you Gin? Harry's okay. Let him get some rest, would you? This happens all the time; you don't need to make such a big deal out of it."

Ginny shook her head, hair fanning out behind her wildly. She glared at Harry. "Fine, then--go back to sleep, you--you half-wit hero. I'm going to bed, too--and if anything happens to you or your Muggle family, it won't be my fault."

"But I'm still hungry," Draco whined.

Ginny let out an exasperated breath. "Fine. Fine!" She grabbed hold of his robe again and dragged him out the door. "Harry can go to sleep like a selfish prick, Ron can do everything Harry says like a gutless wonder, and Draco can come downstairs and be spoon-fed like a big damn baby." She turned and marched out the door, shooting over her shoulder, "You all make me sick." Ron and Harry watched her go, mouths hanging open.

Draco yanked his sleeve back when they were halfway down the stairs. "You needn't lead me about like a dog on a leash," he said. "And while we're at it, I shall not require 'spoon feeding.' I simply need to be pointed in the correct direction of available foodstuffs, and, if you like, monitored so that you all know I was eating said foodstuffs, as opposed to poisoning them."

"Wouldn't put it past you," Ginny grated.

"Thank you," Malfoy replied graciously. "It's an honour to have earned your mistrust."

"You're an idiot."

"Well, perhaps once in a while, but I am not a 'big damn baby.' I do not need nappies or bottles. Although the occasional breast feeding would be an offer to consid--OW!" He rubbed his bicep where Ginny's sharp knuckles had scored a direct hit. "You know, for someone under five feet tall, you're dangerous," he told her, his voice frankly admiring. "Just a bit too blunt to make a good Slytherin, though," he added, trailing behind her as they entered the kitchen.

Ginny ignored him, yanking a plate out of the cupboard and thumping it on the table.

"Slytherins have got to be cunning, and you lack subtlety," Draco went on, not oblivious to her scowl as she stomped over to get the bread, then set about spreading jam on it in a way that indicated she'd much rather be using the knife in a different fashion. "You're mangling my sandwich," he pointed out. In truth, Draco was rather enjoying himself. Potter so rarely rose to his baiting these days, and the Weasel was hardly a challenge. This one's quicker on the uptake, he thought, leaning back as Ginny whipped round, almost hitting him the face with her hair. But rather feisty, and it's quite gratifying that she thinks I'm a trusted agent of evil, sent to destroy Potter and her brother. No one else takes me seriously.

"Here's your stupid sandwich, you chauvinistic pig," she spat, smacking the dish in front of him.

He gave her his most innocent look in response. "Ah, that's what I like about these little roadside Bed and Breakfasts--service with a smile!" He prodded the offering with a well-manicured finger. "Cut the crusts off," he ordered.

Ginny looked at him in disbelief. First he goes making smutty remarks about her breasts, and now he thought he could get all heavy-handed about her cooking? "Look, buddy," she told him, poking him in the chest with the butter knife, "If you want your sandwich all la-dee-da sans crust, you can do it your stuck-up self! I'm getting more than a little sick of you, and your Death Eater on Vacation routine."

Draco glanced down at the still-jammy butter knife, amused. "What are you going to do, saw my head off? I'm nearly ready to stand patiently and let you. If this is some kind of holiday, it's quite the worst I've ever experienced. The hostess has frightful cooking, the maid bites, the bellhops refuse to carry my luggage--and look as though they'd assault me as well, if they could--and the only one in the whole place that's been particularly friendly so far is the ghoul. Don't expect a tip."

Ginny found herself horrified when the corner of one of her lips fought to twitch upwards. "Yeah? Well don't expect a mint on your pillow. And don't call me the maid--and I don't think it's a coincidence that Harry has his first nightmare of the summer the exact time that you show up."

Malfoy's face went stony at this. He shrugged tightly. "Might not be, I suppose, although it's hardly any of my doing," he said, deftly removing the knife from her fingers and cutting the crusts off his sandwich. He sank into one of the kitchen chairs, his eyes distant. "I wonder what that was all about--black snake," he murmured.

Ginny shuddered. "The only snake I know much about is the basilisk," she said. "For reasons that I definitely don't want to have to remember."

"Your family is frightened of the oddest things," Draco remarked, taking a small bite. "Spiders, snakes...little things that won't even hurt you if you just leave them the hell alone."

"The snake I saw was not little," Ginny retorted. "And my brother was once attacked by a monster group of spiders." She sat across from him, thinking back to Harry's nightmare. "Do you know what a black snake is?"

Draco shrugged. "It's just a snake that's black. I think they have quite a few of them in Australia. They're venomous, but certainly not the most venomous kind of snake there is. There's nothing particularly special about them that I know of--they're not fast or sly or magical or anything. They're just snakes."

"Huh," Ginny replied, setting her chin on her hand. "I hope Harry tells someone. He can be so stubborn sometimes."

"Perfect Potter? Stubborn? Do tell." Draco shifted and crossed his legs in an overly feminine fashion, and gestured at Ginny with a limp wrist. "And does he wet the bed, as well? Leave the toilet seat up? Come on, dish. I'm in the mood for a bit of gossip. Spill it, Sister. I want to hear all his bad habits, all the details. Don't leave anything out."

Ginny snorted, turning her head to try to hide her smile. "You're an absolute dork," she informed him, shoulders shaking a little.

Draco gave her a wicked grin. "But you're laughing, aren't you? Admit it, I made you laugh! Come now, it doesn't do for good little Gryffindors to lie; you're laughing, and I'm the one that did it. Ah, then my evil plan is working! Surely soon you'll succumb to my wit. Imagine how baffled the investigators will be--'She seems to have died laughing.' Today, a chuckle--tomorrow, the world!"

Ginny shook her head a little, no longer hiding her smile. "All right, so you're kind of amusing, when you're not being a complete jerk. Hurry up with that sandwich, I'm ready to get some sleep."

Draco insisted on walking her back to her room, in case Voldemort was lurking somewhere in the house--and then insisted on her walking him to his, on the same grounds. "After all," he reasoned, "You're the one who bites. If he comes at me, all I need do is cry, 'Sic him, Ginny!' He'll never see it coming. We'll take him by surprise. And then we'll do photo shoots and interviews afterward, and you can describe my brilliant plan while the cameras love me, as they always do."

Ginny rolled her eyes and started to walk away. Partway down the hall she realized that Draco was still standing in the doorway, watching her. She turned to see him silhouetted against the bedroom light. "Are you watching to make sure I get back to my room okay?" she asked accusingly, trying hard not to smile.

Draco jerked as if surprised. "Of course not! I'm merely making certain you don't turn around and attack me again at the last moment. That is the sort of thing you'd do, and I'm already going to have to get an anti-rabies potion, just in case."

Ginny could hear the teasing grin in his voice, and her own smile softened just a little. "Goodnight, you overgrown mama's boy. Just scream like a girl if you need me." She started walking away again.

"Thanks," he called dryly after her. "The service is improving. I guess maybe I won't regret not going to the villa on the Continent, after all."

When Ginny got to her bedroom door, she paused. "And Draco? Thanks...for earlier. The joking, and all that. I needed that. I guess maybe you aren't so bad. Maybe."

"All women fall to my irresistible charm, eventually," Draco said smugly, and she shook her head, closing the door behind her.

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The next morning at breakfast, Ginny watched Harry out of the corner of her eye. He looked suspiciously tired, his shoulders slumped and his hair even messier than usual. Draco, sitting across from him, looked impeccable in a white dress shirt and silvery-grey robes, his gestures elegant, his face serene, and every last hair perfectly in place. If she didn't know better, Ginny never would have been able to tell he'd been running around for half the night.

"Pass the butter, would you please?" he sweetly asked Harry, and smiled a little when the Boy Who Lived To Look Like Death Would Be An Improvement glared at him, green eyes glittering with repressed malice.

"Oh, I'm so glad you're eating, Draco," Molly Weasley told him. "You'll need your strength today, to help out with the chores."

"You're pancakes are divine, Mrs. Weasley, particularly with a bit of lemon," he responded, giving her a charming smile, which began to wilt as her words had another chance to run round his brain. "Er. What chores?"

"The garden is full of thorny creeping ambush sprouts, and I need it weeded before they really take root. You and Ginny will need to get that done, and I'm having Ron and Harry clean out the attic."

Ron groaned, and she turned on him. "Don't you take that woe-is-me attitude, Ronald. I want that attic emptied. It's full of old stuff of Bill and Charlie's, as well as various other things that none of us use anymore. I want you to carry it all out to the shed. Your father needs that room to keep some of his things from...work."

By that, Ginny realized her mother was talking about Order stuff, and Ron must have realized the same, because he perked up considerably. "Really?" he said. "I bet Harry and I will be finished long before you and ferret-boy," he added, smirking at Ginny.

"Yeah? Bet you a Sickle you're not," Ginny challenged with a smile. "The attic's full-up of odds and ends. All we have are a few little plants to deal with."

"Correction; you have a few little plants and a Malfoy to deal with," Ron told her gleefully. "Sorry, but I think you definitely got the worse end of the deal."

"Ha, bloody ha," Malfoy said sourly at Ron. "Malfoys are experts at getting their way--be it politics, romance, or horticulture. And I'll raise your sister's Sickle to two Sickles, how's that? Or is that too rich for your blood? Ouch! Why are you constantly doing that?" he turned, giving Ginny a pained look. He gently prodded his ribs where she'd elbowed him. "I swear, Weasel, your sister is some kind of sadist. She takes pleasure in bruising my beautiful body."

"Shouldn't have sat next to her, then," Ron said without sympathy. He nudged Harry, who was falling asleep in his orange juice. "Right?"

"Mph," was all Harry replied.

"You were the one who decided to sit next to me," Ginny noted. "And since you know I bite, wouldn't that make you as much of a masochist as it does me a sadist?" She gave him an arch look over the top of her glass, and got confused when Draco darted a mischievous look at Ron.

Malfoy scooted his chair closer to hers. "But I like a girl with spirit!"

Ron turned flaming red. "YOU KEEP YOUR DEATH-EATING HANDS OFF OF MY LITTLE SISTER!" he hollered.

"Ronald Weasley! You keep your voice down," his mother immediately reprimanded him.

His father glanced up from the paper he was reading long enough to mutter, "Listen to your mother."

Mrs. Weasley plunked his cup down in front of him. "I'm sure Draco was just teasing you." Still, she darted a slightly worried look at the aristocrat as she passed by.

"Oh, don't worry Mrs. Weasley," he responded, eyes round and earnest. "I'd never dream of taking advantage of your daughter. I'm a gentleman."

Ron looked ready to explode. Harry tugged on his sleeve, shaking his head. Clearly, he didn't want trouble this morning. Ginny shifted in her seat. He wasn't telling anyone. He wasn't even mentioning it. What if the Dursleys were in trouble and no one even knew? True, they were horrible people, from what she'd heard, but she still wouldn't feel very happy if Voldemort murdered them.

"Is there...anything in the paper about me?" Draco asked quietly, eyeing the front page of the Daily Prophet with some trepidation.

Mr. Weasley glanced up. "No...no, there isn't," he muttered with some consternation.

Suddenly, Albus Dumbledore's head appeared in the kitchen fire, his eyes searching out Mr. Weasley. "Ah, Arthur, there you are," he said. "And I see you've read the paper as well."

"Not thoroughly," Arthur replied, looking up in surprise. "Is there something in there that I should have seen?"

"Not exactly," Dumbledore acknowledged. "It's more that you probably anticipated seeing something--something which remains unseen."

Now Arthur just looked puzzled. "You mean the press held back the announcement that the Malfoy family heir happens to be missing from his home?"

"No, Arthur. I mean that Lucius and Narcissa did not report Draco as missing--to the Ministry or the press."

"They didn't report me missing?" Draco echoed in a hollow voice. "You're joking."

"Maybe they just feel well off to be rid of him," Ron interjected cheerfully. "They probably don't really miss him, after all."

Draco, who had been having thoughts along these same lines, turned an ugly face to the redhead. "Shut. Your. Mouth. You insolvent little church mouse." he growled through gritted teeth.

"Now, boys, lets not fight at the breakfast table," Arthur began, but Ron had already leaned forward.

He had both hands planted firmly on the tabletop, his eyes boring holes into Malfoy's. "This is my house, you condescending cretin, and you can't just talk anyway you--"

"Boys! This is no way to behave in front of the Headmaster of your school!" Molly was yelling over them, which had no effect.

To Ginny, it seemed as if the Headmaster was staring right at her. "Harry had a nightmare about Voldemort last night," she announced loudly, and the table went silent.

"Ginny!" Harry burst out, looking angry.

"Is this true?" Dumbledore queried, turning blue laser beams on the youth.

Harry's brow turned to thunder, and he opened his mouth and snapped it shut. "No," he finally announced sullenly. Ginny gaped. "I don't know for sure that it was--it was one of those dreams," he said. "It could have just been a nightmare. Having Malfoy show up for the summer would be enough to give anyone nightmares."

Ginny looked murderous. "It--you--it," she stuttered incoherently. "He was clutching at his scar! Wasn't he, Malfoy?"

"Yes," Draco responded calmly, pushing his food around on his plate and scowling at it. "I had to wake him with a spell. He was writhing and moaning and yelling about a snake."

"What was your dream about, Harry?" Albus asked gently, turning his attention back to the boy.

"I don't remember," Harry said tightly. "Just something about a snake, and maybe my house, and my family. But even just after they woke me, I hardly remembered anything. I don't know if I really dreamed about any of that!"

"You definitely dreamt about the snake," Malfoy informed him. "Rottw--that is--Ginny and I heard you from out in the hall."

"What were you doing up and wandering the house in the middle of the night?" Molly demanded of Ginny, who just barely kept from rolling her eyes.

"Draco wanted something to eat, and--"

"What were you doing up with Draco Malfoy in the middle of the night?" her father interjected. "Never mind." He glanced from Harry to Draco. "Albus, things have been a bit hectic around here," he went on. "We had a bit of an incident last night before bed, and I'm afraid the kids are all a bit worked up over it. It could easily have given Harry nightmares."

"Worked up?" repeated Ginny, her voice wobbling a little, to her horror. "You think I'm worked up? Dad, I heard Harry screaming about the snake! Are you saying that you don't believe me?"

"Now, Firecracker, I'm just saying--"

"Don't you 'Firecracker' me!" Ginny shouted. "I'm telling you that Harry really did--"

"Ginevra Weasley! Don't you take that tone with your father!" Molly Weasley's none-too-meek-at-the-best-of-times manner suddenly erupted into an outright bawling out. "You go to your room until I call you down to do your chores, and don't you give me that look, young lady!"

Ginny, still scowling, folded her napkin purposefully before rising and stalking her way to her room, trying to maintain what little dignity she had left. Sometimes her mother was a real terror. Ginny couldn't believe her mum had dressed her down in front of everyone. Including Draco Malfoy. Dear God. And why, exactly, did that bother her quite so much, anyway?

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Thanks to:

Inkeepingsecrets, flavor of the week, pamie884, Morena Evensong, and Meredith A. Jones. Y'all are just so sweet!