Dark Lord's Little Helper

Chapter Five: A Snake's Tongue

Draco Malfoy was weeding like he had never weeded before when Ginny was finally allowed out of her room to join him. Of course, he never had weeded before, so this would pretty much have been true regardless of whether or not he actually pulled any weeds, but he felt he was doing rather well. Ron had made a couple of trips past him carrying boxes of junk, and Malfoy felt strongly that it would not do to let those freaks in the attic best him at...housework? Well, regardless, he was still a Malfoy, and Malfoys did not tolerate loss.

He cheated and used his wand at every opportunity, of course, but this was well within Malfoy gardening guidelines, he was certain. Or would have been, if Malfoy's deigned to garden. He gave himself a magical pair of clippers and chopped some of the weeds to tiny bits, imagining his mother's flowerbed. This is the daphne. Dangerous, deadly daphne. Chop, chop, daphne! Snick, snick, went the clippers. And here's the foxglove. Lovely hacked up foxglove. The magical blades reduced the weed to tatters. Ah, and some sweet narcissus...HAVE SOME KNIFE, NARCISSUS!

Draco was so busy imagining the weeds as his mother's flowers that he didn't notice Ginny until she'd crept up behind him and placed a tentative hand on his shoulder. "Auuuugggggh!" he screeched, jumping. He hit her with Impedimenta, ducking and rolling at the same time. Wild eyed, he came to rest facing her, wand still at the ready. "Are you a sodding imbecile?" he demanded hotly. "Don't you know that I'm Voldemort's Most Wanted at the moment? I could have killed you before you'd had time to draw a breath!"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Yes, with you're marvellously fatal impediment curse. Uber impressive, Malfoy. Look, I just wanted to apologize for sticking you with weeding the garden by yourself most of the morning. I should have kept my temper, but it's difficult when Harry's acting like the world's biggest prat." She tossed her head like a filly that wanted free of its reins, and her red ponytail swung gracefully.

Malfoy smirked. "Well, when isn't he? I'd expect you to be used to it by now. At any rate, you can tell me how the bloody hell we're supposed to be able to rid the garden of these...damnable pests without using any magic. They're incredibly agile, they re-root themselves as soon as they've been dug up, and they bite."

"Not unlike yours truly, right?" Ginny replied archly, and Draco smiled broadly. Obviously, the girl had calmed down and gotten into a better mood. "Look, that whole 'no using magic' thing is clearly a farce, at least when it comes to stuff like this. Technically, we're supposed to drag them out behind the shed and pour Vanishing potion on them, put it usually takes several doses and way too much effort. Like you said, they bite. So instead, what I usually do is this." Pulling out her wand, Ginny checked round to make sure none of her family was looking out the windows at them. "Incendio." The small weed immediately dried out, shrivelled up, and crumbled to ash. She wiped her hand on her trousers. "There. Easy enough, right?"

"Not bad...Firecracker," Draco teased, and had to duck the bat-bogey hex she immediately shot at his head. "Why do you keep attempting to injure me?" he asked in a hurt tone. "One would think you're developing an obsession."

"Well, it's the only thing I'm obsessed with doing to you, I can promise you that," Ginny retorted, yanking up another weed and setting it alight.

Draco gave her a playful grin as he lit a weed of his own. "Oh, you'll come around, I'm sure," he said with confidence. "Trust me, they always do." His smile continued in the face of her grimace, and they worked side by side in silence for some time. "Dumbledore believes you, you know," he finally said.

Ginny looked up, eyes wide. "What? How do you know?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Because Trelawney had a vision, what do you think? He said so. He stayed a bit afterwards and talked with Harry and your father. Said he was going to post guards round Harry's family, or something like that. Your father volunteered for a shift at it. And he's going off to research black snakes, and see if he can't find out what it all meant. See? All taken care of, nothing to worry about."

Ginny felt herself flushing. Badly. As badly as when she'd had that terrible crush on Harry. But why was she doing it now? Draco wasn't teasing her. He wasn't even patronizing her. If anything, he was being reassuring. He was trying to make it better, and without being condescending. It was bizarre. And suspicious. And frightening. And...and welcome. Ginny didn't know anyone else that showed her that kind of consideration. The last person she'd ever expected to do so was Malfoy. Very, very weird.

"Well. That's good," she said to the weed she was tugging at, keeping her head down. From the corner of her eye, she could see that Malfoy was motionless, staring at her, but he didn't say anything. She knelt, still blushing, and incinerated her weed, then pulled another one. Any moment, she was sure there would be a thin, pale finger pointed at her, accusatory and revealing, and those grey eyes would be wide with laughter, and that smooth voice would say, "But you're blushing, rottweiler! And why exactly is that? I'll bet I could guess..."

Draco wordlessly yanked out his own weed, torching it with aptitude. He did another, and another, and they worked the morning away. Ginny was braced with tension, but Draco never said a single thing about it. Definitely weird.

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After a couple of hours, Ginny was tiring, and Draco was obviously bored with the task. "This is so mind-numbing," he whined. "What on earth do you do around here when you want a little bit of intellectual stimulation?"

Ginny shrugged. "Well, I generally hide out behind the shed with a couple of books, or write to one of my friends, or hold long, drawn out conversations with myself about how to turn lead into gold. I've tried debating some of the others, but that's rarely a good idea. The last time I tried it was when I was eight. Ron just rolled his eyes, Charlie patted me on the head, and Fred and George turned Mum's gold necklace into a great puddle of lead goo and put it in one of my shoes. Bill was always nice to talk to, and Dad listens, but only if he's got time--which is never, and if you tell Mum you're bored, she'll have you cleaning the gutters for the next week and a half. Boredom is not on in the Weasley household. Sorry about that."

Draco glanced up as Ron made another trip outside. "You're not using magic, are you Ginny?" he demanded as he passed by. "You know that's not allowed. Mum'll kill you."

"No," Ginny denied hastily. "We're taking them out behind the shed just like we're supposed to. Right, Draco?"

"Er...of course," he said, slyly tucking his wand away. He rose with the weed he was currently holding and moved fluidly towards the shed, only to feel something wrap itself tightly round his ankle. "Gah!" he yelled, pitching forwards and ripping the material of his robes on one knee as he skidded in the dirt.

When he stood, bruised and discomfited, he attempted to regain his dignity by remaining ultra casual as he brushed the dust from his robes. Ron was doubled over in laughter, and even Ginny was giggling a bit. "That was really slick, Malfoy," Ron told him. "What do you do when people ask for an encore?"

"I usually slice them into thin strips and feed them to my poisonous toad," he replied peevishly. "And it wasn't my fault. I'm always exceptionally agile--it's practically my trademark. Brilliant smile, perfect hair, and marvellous, undeniable suaveness."

"Well, I always thought you had more of an absolutely annoying smirk, overly-slicked hair, and...you've just proven what a complete oaf you are," Ron told him.

Draco scowled. "Yuk it up, Weasel," he growled. "Stupid, stupid creeping ambush! I'm never clumsy. I'm the most wonderfully graceful male in our school."

"Bollocks," Ron replied easily. "What about that time in Potions last year when you had to give a report in front of the class, and you tripped over your words, poured way too many nectarine pits into your Essence of Elegance, then bumped into your cauldron and spilled the lot on the floor?"

"That was Not. My. Fault." Draco said hotly. "You can blame Pansy Parkinson for that, because she'd used flagrate on her tongue, where she'd written, "MARRY ME, DRACO," and kept showing it to me when the professor turned his back. You'd have been a little unsettled by that as well, I can assure you!"

"Ri--iiiiight," Ron told him. "You always have to blame someone else, don't you? Admit, cake eater, you were just nervous about your speech and it made you inept--more inept than you usually are, that is. I mean, come on! Even Snape noticed; he looked like he just might take points off you."

"Snape would never do that," Malfoy replied haughtily. "Snape adores me. He thinks I'm the best student that ever came through his house--after him. And Father, perhaps, and--" Draco shut his mouth, swallowing hard. After Voldemort, who we all know was the 'greatest' Slytherin. And did Snape really think I was any good at all, or was he just sucking up to Father and the Dark Lord? I know Snape must be a Death Eater. Should I tell someone? Would it go worse for me if I did? And...I don't really want to snitch on Professor Snape--the man's had it hard enough, and he's...he's nice to me. Even when I don't much deserve it, he usually tries to give some sort of encouragement or advice. Which is more than Father's ever done.

Ron didn't even notice Draco's distress--and unless you knew him pretty well, it probably wasn't all that obvious. But Ginny saw the thoughts behind Draco's eyes as plain as day. He's worried. He thinks Snape is still one of them. She felt a swelling inclination to tell him the truth, but clamped down on it firmly. After all, what if Draco wasn't on their side? He'd be in the perfect position to get their only spy killed. In fact, that might be the very reason he was there--to infiltrate the people around Harry and find out why Dumbledore seemed one step ahead, at least most of the time.

"Uh-huh. Snape just loooooves you, I'm sure. Now I know why you're his favorite." Ron jumped aside as Draco shot Furnunculus at him. "Malfoy, you're not allowed to use magic," he admonished. Ron left, simmering over the curse sent at his head. "And Ginny, if I see you using magic again either, I'll tell Mum and then you'll catch it."

Now it was Ginny's turn to scowl, although in the interest of retaining her own dignity, she refrained from hexing him as soon as his back was turned. "We'd better at least take the rest out behind the shed before we burn them," she advised. "If Mum does see us, we will catch it--and I wouldn't put it past Ron to tell her. He'd do it just to get you in trouble."

As if on cue, Mrs. Weasley's voice hollered from the doorway. "Ginny Weasley, if you're using your magic outside of school, you're going to be in big trouble."

"I'm not, Mum!" she protested angrily. She lowered her voice and turned to Malfoy. "I knew he would tattle. He might as well be five years old." She started walking over to the shed, but stopped when she realized Draco wasn't following. She turned to find he was eyeing her speculatively. "What?"

"Come on, let's go inside," he suggested, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the house.

"What? Wait! We haven't even finished weeding yet. Malfoy! Where are you taking me?" Ginny groaned as he pushed her up the steps.

"What are the two of you doing back inside?" Molly asked suspiciously, but she was bowled over by one of Malfoy's sunniest smiles.

"Oh, I'm sorry Mrs. Weasley," he said with what seemed like heartfelt sincerity. "I just got...a splinter! Yes, a bit of a splinter, and I'm afraid I can't see it well enough to get it out. No, no, I'm fine--I just asked Ginny to show me to the loo and maybe help me get it out."

"Well, let me know if you need any help," Molly returned. "And I'll expect the two of you to get right back to work when you've finished."

"Absolutely, Mrs. Weasley," Draco assured her, still beaming as he steered Ginny towards the stairs. "It won't take a minute, I'm sure. And weeding your garden is the least I could do after all you've done for me."

"Laying it on a bit thick, aren't we?" Ginny asked out the side of her mouth.

"But she's just eating it up," Draco responded. It was true. Molly Weasley was smiling slightly to herself, humming vaguely as she went back to stirring the stew she was making for supper.

"She does seem to like those blonds," Ginny said under her breath. Then she added more loudly, "Malfoy, what the hell are you doing, anyway?"

"We're going to get back at your brother," Malfoy informed her.

"What? How? Malfoy...I don't think this is a great idea."

"Come on. Stop being such a--a goody two shoes. It'll be fun, and no one'll get hurt. I promise. It'll be great!" She finally relented, and followed him to the top of the attic stairs, crouching on his right in the hallway where they could hear Ron's and Harry's muffled voices above them. Draco leaned forward until he was on his stomach, poking the tip of his wand across the doorway. "Aracnulus," he hissed.

Ginny cautiously peeped above the steps a moment before sinking back down. She scooted closer to Draco so she could whisper in his ear, trying to ignore that he smelled of mint and faintly of some kind of men's scent--aftershave or expensive cologne or something. It was subtle enough that she hardly noticed consciously, and classy enough to make her think of silk and diamonds and other pricey things, and she couldn't help lumping Draco in with them. An odd little flutter rose in her chest, and she shivered a little. Draco looked questioningly at her, and she swallowed. "What did you do?" she whispered. "It doesn't seem like it's having any effect."

Draco put a hand on her arm and leaned across to whisper in her right ear, "Patience, my pet. True works of genius take time; you can't simply drop an anvil on their heads. It lacks subtlety."

Ginny could feel his warm breath on her neck, and she shivered again. She opened her mouth to speak, but found her mouth suddenly much too dry.

Draco pulled back a little to look at her. "Are you cold? Should've worn your cardigan again."

He noticed my sweater? But boys don't ever notice things like that. And I cleaned the dishes for three weeks and did Ron's chores, too, just to work up enough money to afford the one I liked. Ron never noticed. Harry never noticed. Ginny felt a decidedly wild desire to laugh, and fought it because she knew it'd be loud if she did, and she wouldn't be able to stop. "I--guess I am a little cold," she said, in lieu of admitting, 'Well, really, I think it's because you smell quite nice and you have a great voice, and would you mind just running those elegant fingers through my hair a bit?' That would go over very well, no doubt.

"Here, give me your hands," Draco commanded, and she let him take them, turn them over gently, and cast a warming spell over them. He held them cradled in his own, whispering, "All better?" All of which merely caused her to shudder again. He laughed softly. "I'll take that as a 'no.' Guess I'm a bit out of practice on my warming charms. Odd, really; I've always used them at home, I'm usually quite good at them. Well, never mind. Here, I'll just..." he tugged her forward, sliding an arm around her shoulders, pulling Ginny into the warmth of his embrace.

Ginny's eyes widened as she felt Draco's hand slide up the nape of her neck. "Shouldn't wear your hair up if your cold," he advised. "You'll be warmer with it down." He tugged on the ribbon holding it back, and it tumbled down around her ears and shoulders. As he drew his hand back, Malfoy's thumb lightly grazed her cheekbone, and Ginny could feel the heat beginning to rise in her face.

Draco meant to smile and be reassuring, but he suddenly found he was having difficulty forming words. Here he'd thought this was the perfect set-up to seduce Weasley's sister into a compromising situation, and...it either wasn't turning out that way, or it was working far too well. As he watched the red waves cascade free of their bind, the world seemed to stop moving, just for a moment. Like some kind of golden, liquid fire, he thought, in awe.

Then she looked up at him with wide, innocent brown eyes, so exactly like those of a doe, that he was absolutely lost. Damnable witch turned the tables on me! he mused, letting his thumb brush against her skin as he drew his hand back. He wasn't sure which one of them took the lead, but they both seemed to lean forward at the same time, and suddenly their lips were touching. Ginny's hand came up and wound fingers in his hair, and Death Eaters and Potter and Voldemort abruptly seemed far less pressing than they'd ever done, and Draco lost himself in Ginny's mouth. Somewhere, Draco's inner Slytherin screamed at him. My hair! My beautiful hair! She's mussing it! Belt up, he ordered it. But you're doing exactly the wrong thing, it moaned. She bites, you know! Could be fun under the right circumstances, he retorted, and gave up his inner dialogue to concentrate on enjoying himself.

Both arms were wrapped firmly round her thin frame, and Ginny was pressing him back, until he was against the wall, and she was half leaning, half laying on him, one of her hands still winding and tugging at his hair, and the other digging nails into his shoulder. She scratches a bit, too, he pointed out to his inner Slytherin with no small amount of glee.

Ron's muffled scream came from the attic, and it was joined by the sound of thumps and scuffling steps as boxes were tossed around and Weasley tried to escape. Draco pulled away from Ginny's lovely lips long enough to remark, "Oh, good. I see your brother's noticed my spider. I did tell you that patience would reap great rewards." He liked the way her lips curled up at the corners at this, and took her chin to kiss her again.

..."Kill it, Harry, kill it!" Ron's frightened yells passed by, almost unnoticed. "It's--coming this way! Harry! AUUUGHH!"

"Calm down, Ron," Harry's voice ordered, frustrated. "You know, I don't reckon that's a normal spider at all. You see the way it's glowing? And kind of pale? Do you typically get that kind of spider round here?"

"Harry! I don't care if it's an albino holocaust spider from Madagascar! Just kill it, would you? AUGH! It's trying to get me! KILL IT!"

"Wait a second," Harry said suspiciously. "That's not a spider, that's a spell. Finite Incantatum!" He yelled, and Ron let out a huge sigh of relief.

"I'm going downstairs to tell Mum. I don't know where it came from and I don't care, but if there's stuff in this attic that causes magical albino spiders, I'm not...--OH MY GOD! GINNY! What the--? MALFOY! What are you DOING to my kid sister?!"

Draco pulled away, usually colourless cheeks flushed with warmth, lips looking pink and entirely too well-kissed. He gave Ron a lazy smile. Draco opened his mouth to say, 'You remember that talk Madam Pomfrey gave us all back in third year about where babies come from?' but stopped when Ginny's hand clapped over his mouth.

"Don't," she advised him. Whipping out her wand, Ginny levelled it at Ron's head and announced firmly, "Obliviate."

The spell clearly wasn't strong, and Draco wasn't certain it was going to work at all. Ron blinked, clearly confused. "What's...going...on? What happened to the spider?"

Harry appeared in the doorway. "What happened? Ginny, are you all right?" he gave Malfoy a hard look, and barely glanced at Ron. He tumbled down the steps to them, looking back and forth between Ginny and Malfoy. "What's wrong? What was Ron yelling about?"

Ron still looked puzzled, so Ginny piped up quickly. "Draco and I were having a fight. I was winning, but then Ron had to come and big brother me, so he pretty much spoiled the whole thing. Everything's okay, though."

Harry gazed at them suspiciously. "Huh. Well...I know you did that spider, Malfoy. It wasn't funny."

"It was, though," Malfoy contended shamelessly. "The Weasel had been very rude to me, and I thought it my duty to teach him that good hosts do not insult their guests. Plus, he went and whined to his mother, which is so pathetic that it is beneath even me. Now...if you'll excuse us, Ginny and I have weeds to deal with. Ta."

Harry scowled at them, but dragged an increasingly annoyed looking Ron up the stairs after him. "Yeah, he's a jerk. Tell me something I don't know. Come on; let's get back to work. We're almost finished."

Ginny followed Draco as he practically skipped almost merrily down the stairs, pausing only long enough to pop his head into the kitchen and inform her mother that the splinter was all gone, and was she doing something different with her hair, because it sure looked lovely! Then he gave her a brilliant smile and tugged Ginny outside, where he suddenly turned on her.

"What was that about?" he demanded in a cold voice.

Ginny swallowed. There were really only two possibilities here; either he was scornful of her hypocrisy in casting a spell like obliviate on her own brother when she was supposed to be 'good,' or he was disturbed by her lack of restraint when she'd practically jumped him in the hallway. In either case, she understood that this particular confrontation would not be a pleasant one. Bracing herself, she said, "What?"

"You were winning?" he said indignantly. "Really, rottweiler, winning? Because that implies that I was losing--and I wasn't. That's important to keep in mind, as it wouldn't reflect well on either one of us, otherwise. I am a Malfoy. Malfoys do not lose."

"Really?" Ginny raised a brow. "Because now that you're on our side, and your father is still on You Know Who's side, it seems to me that one of you will eventually have to lose. It just kind of stands to reason, you know?"

Draco seemed to sober. "Well, yes, but you never know. There might be a draw. Or! My father could come around. It could happen," he insisted, in the face of her dubious look. "Whatever else my father is, he is not a fool. Surely he'll ultimately come to the same conclusion that I did, and realize he's backed the losing horse. In which case I shall be gracious and only force him to grovel for several weeks to get back into my good graces. Ordinarily, there would be flogging and public humiliation as well, but one ought to make allowances for one's father, I suppose."

Ginny, not fooled by Draco's forced, flippant manner, laid a hand on his arm. "Draco..." she murmured, unsure what to say.

He shrugged it off, his chin held high. "You really cast obliviate on your own brother, hmm?"

Ginny's ears burned. "I was careful. I moderated the amount of magic being cast, and I only took off a couple of minutes," she said defensively.

"Well done, in any case," he responded approvingly. "I always knew you had a bit of bastard underneath it all. I'll make a passable Slytherin of you yet, mark my words." Ginny shook her head, but let him continue. "You'll need a Slytherin to defeat him, you know. When you're fighting a monster, goodness and nobility will only take you so far. Takes a snake to catch a snake." He wiggled his tongue at her, and Ginny blushed brightly and turned her head.

"Speaking of snakes," she quickly changed the subject, bending down and plucking a weed. "Have you had any thoughts on Harry's dream? Because I'm really worried about it."

Draco began weeding as well. "Nothing useful," he admitted, and then fell silent for several moments. "Do you think you could winkle some information out of your father this evening?" At Ginny's nod, he smiled grimly. "That's good, because I'm rather worried, as well."