Unbidden Desires

Chapter 6 - What Do You Know of My Heart?

"Weasley, do you have a bloody clue where you're going?" Draco asked irritably.

Ginny was trying her best not to pay him any mind. She didn't acknowledge his accusation, which aggravated him even further. Clearly, he did not take to being ignored. Instead, as if to confirm her stupidity, he pointed exasperatedly at the nearest door and griped bitterly, "I assure you, we have passed by that very door at least six times now."

It was Thursday evening, and they had met by the kitchens as planned. Ginny had 'borrowed' Harry's invisibility cloak, just in case they ran into Filch, Mrs. Norris, or Peeves and needed to disappear in a hurry. She didn't tell Harry she needed the cloak; while he knew she was looking for the Mirror of Erised, she wanted to be sure that he never knew why.

Ginny was looking around the hallway, trying to find a certain painting that would indicate their next turn. Suddenly, Draco stopped directly in her path, causing her to stumble awkwardly into his backside, knock him over, and nearly fall on top of him. He bellowed, "Christ, Weasley!" As he lie on the floor, she groped to find her way back up. He leered suggestively, "Well, if you really wanted to feel me up, why didn't you just ask?"

She was not amused. Being careful not to touch him, she gathered herself up as quickly as possible then snapped, "Shut it, you imbecile! I was not feeling you up!" She hated it when people made her feel incompetent, and she certainly didn't like his implications. Feeling a mild panic set in, she started to question whether they would actually be able to find the stupid mirror.

No, she told herself, I can do this. Once she had composed herself again, she tried to recall Harry's instructions to the letter. In spite of Draco's constant bitching in the background, she silently reviewed them once more in her mind:

"Listen carefully, Ginny. You go past the kitchens and take a sharp left. The corridor sort of winds to the right and then back to the left again. It may feel like you're going in circles, and I don't know -- maybe you are. Look for a door with a painting on the right side of it that has a young witch riding a unicorn. You really can't miss it. There's a red velvet curtain on the other side of the door next to an old suit of armor. Once you go through that door . . . "

She was pretty sure they were in the general vicinity. But where was that frigging door? By now, she was extremely vexed, and Draco certainly wasn't helping with his constant badgering. Insults and snide remarks just naturally seemed to slide off his tongue, and he kept them coming:

"Face it, we are hopelessly lost. Tell me, how do you manage to find your way around the Quidditch pitch without stopping to ask for directions?", and "What did I expect? You are a Weasley; you probably couldn't find your bum with both hands and a roadmap," and her favorite, "Are we there yet, Mummy? I gotta go wee-wee!"

Shite, what a whinger! Ginny grumbled to herself. Does he ever stop? Even Fred and George know when to back off, and they haven't an ounce of maturity between the two of them.

She was slowly losing the battle that was waging inside her, and it took all she had not to turn around and simply bite his head off. She even contemplated hexing his mouth right off his face. Her mum had done that to George once, shortly before the impish lad went to Hogwarts, and it had made quite an impression on the young girl. I've always wanted to try that. But today, she decided against it; they were on their own, and she wasn't entirely sure what the counter-curse was. But then, who would really care? she wondered.

Eventually, she couldn't take any more of his cutting remarks. She got right in his face and yelled, thrusting an accusing finger into his chest. "All right, you prick, I've had it with you!! Just run along and tell your precious Professor Snape everything -- I don't care! Tell him how my brother and Harry purposely distracted him so Hermione could pinch the supplies from his shelves! How they brewed and took a highly dangerous substance so they could infiltrate your beloved Common Room to slum with you and your fellow Slytherins! And, just for good measure, don't forget to mention that the boys were in a girls' loo on several occasions, when they bloody well knew they weren't supposed to be there in the first place! See if I care -- 'cause I've had enough of your effing shit, Malfoy!!"

When she had finished her rant, he thought, Impressive. And she barely took two breaths the whole time.

She started to stomp off in a huff, but he quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her back forcefully. "Oh, no, you don't. Get back over here, you! What's the matter with you, anyway? Having the painters in, hmm? Is it that time of the month?"

Ginny, infuriated by his insolence, slapped him with all the force she could muster. Draco gasped loudly as if he couldn't believe the nerve of this girl. She reached back even further to smack his cheek a second time, but he grabbed her wrist to intervene. Forcing her arm down roughly and twisting it around her back, he commanded coldly, "Don't ever do that again."

Following her outburst, she was breathing heavily. He thought, Turned on, luv? That makes two of us. But he wisely held his tongue, deciding now might not be a good time to provoke her further. She was getting a little too violent. Instead, he took control again and barked, "Well, don't just stand there, let's figure this thing out!"

He turned around and started to retrace their steps to see where they'd gone astray. She followed him without much thought, as she was far too peeved to do otherwise. In hindsight, she would later wonder why she did it. Caught up in the moment, and perhaps a wee bit curious about the mirror herself, she struggled to keep pace with him. All the while, she protested, "Why do you need me here, anyway? You know as much as I do about where the mirror is. Can't I just go back?"

He had to do some quick thinking, but he soon came up with a plausible excuse. "Because I want to prove to you that it does show the future! I know I'm right, and soon you will too," he said, giving her a defiant stare.

As she stood there glaring back at him, something on the edge of her vision caught her eye. There it is! A red velvet curtain hanging next to an unobtrusive, pewter-colored suit of armor. The suit was so dull, she hadn't noticed it before. Based on what she had learned in Muggle Studies, she thought it might date back to the Renaissance. It was undoubtedly ancient.

And there was the painting! It had no light to accent it, so they had walked right past it --apparently, several times. The only light was the unicorn's snow-white body illuminating faintly in the dim hallway. "This is it!" she exclaimed. "It has to be!"

He said in an abrasive tone, "Thank all the gods for that. I thought you'd never find it."

But the door was, of course --

"Locked. Bugger," Ginny commented.

"What did you expect, Weasley? A freaking welcome mat?" Draco sneered. As if bored beyond belief, he muttered, "Alohamora."

The handle jiggled and the door budged slightly, but it still did not open. They rattled off every unlocking and opening charm that either of them had ever learned, but nothing would open it. After several minutes, they were beginning to think their search had reached a dead end.

Ginny said hopelessly, "Without the correct unlocking charm, looks like we're up the proverbial creek --"

Suddenly, the door started to swing open very slowly, apparently of its own accord. Ginny and Draco stood there, dumbfounded, staring into the dark room. Wondering whether would be entirely safe to enter, they looked at each other with wide eyes, mouths agape, a half-smile on Draco's face. They cautiously inched their way inside.

A bodiless voice called out of the shadows. It said, "We meet again, Draco. Hello." He struggled to recognize the strange voice, but he came up blank. Who the hell is that?

"I said hello, Draco. Don't tell me you've forgotten me already?" Whoever it was sounded hurt and slightly upset.

When Draco realized it was only Moaning Myrtle, he breathed a sigh of pure relief. "No, no -- of course not," he laughed. "Good evening, Myrtle. Pleasure to see you again. Do you perchance know Ginny Weasley?"

"Weasley? Is Ron your brother?" she asked, eyeing her suspiciously. Then with a grin, she continued, "And Fred and George? Bill, Charlie -- and I suppose, Percy too?"

"Yes, guilty on all six counts," Ginny admitted.

"Wait, wait -- I know you from somewhere. I know I've seen you somewhere. It's been a while, but you look so familiar to me." Myrtle concentrated intently, working to recall where she had seen Ginny before. Eventually, it came to her, and when it did, her tone changed at once.

"I remember now! You threw a book at me once!" she said indignantly. Then she passed her judgment: "I don't like you." Turning her nose up and sniffling, she started to float away, leaving the two living students standing in her wake, goggling after her then at one another.

Draco turned to Ginny and whispered tersely, "Way to go, Weasley! She may have been able to help us!" Then he chased after the ghost, calling out to her, "Myrtle, wait!"

Ginny was completely baffled. What book was she talking about? She'd never thrown a book at anyone in all her life! In fact, she'd never thrown anything, except a few hexes, and then only when she was fuming mad, and a quaffle during Quidditch practices and games. As she was a Chaser this year, that was the general idea.

As Draco ran to catch Myrtle up, he panted, "Wait! Hang on! I just wanted to thank you for opening that door. If it weren't for you, we might have stood there for hours."

She stopped, and although she was skittish, she said stiffly, "You're welcome."

Catching his breath while trying to sound as deferential as possible, he asked, "Also, I was hoping maybe you could -- help me?"

Moaning Myrtle hovered next to the paintings and sparse torches. Pointing to where Ginny still stood, the disheartened ghost sobbed, "Only if she apologizes for tossing that book at me!" She moped dramatically, "If I had been alive, that would have really hurt!"

Draco hoped her knowledge of the castle was extensive and that she might know exactly which way they needed to go next. He held his hands out in a sign of peace, trying to reassure the skeptical ghost. "I'll speak to her. Don't worry. She listens to me, and she will apologize," Draco promised. Yeah, she listens to me, all right. Only problem is when she does, she usually tries to hit me.

The ghost hesitated, then asked him warily, "All right, but what do you need?"

"Well, as you might have guessed, we're looking for something. A magical mirror called The Mirror of Erised. Have you heard of it?" he asked eagerly. When her eyes lit up in recognition, he was barely able to curb his enthusiasm. He became more determined and inquired, "Do you know where it is?"

"Yes, I do," she replied and headed back toward the open door.

The two of them returned to where they had left Ginny. Without prompting, she apologized profusely to Myrtle for the book incident. She had worked up a pretty good act, saying how thoughtless she had been and then begging for forgiveness. Hope that'll do it, Ginny thought. She just wanted to get this whole bloody episode over with, get back to Gryffindor Tower, and return Harry's cloak, without getting herself a detention or Harry finding out.

Her obnoxious companion nodded in agreement. "Yes, Myrtle, she was way out of line." When Ginny glared at him, he murmured to her, "One should never miss an opportunity to humiliate a Gryffindor. Slytherin Handbook, page 12."

But Myrtle took no notice of Draco's little aside. She merely accepted Ginny's contrite apology and went on with her afterlife. "I forgive you, Miss Weasley. Now, will both of you please follow me?" She turned and flew away at breakneck speed.

Draco and Ginny practically had to run to keep up with Myrtle. Their pursuit led them through a handful of deserted classrooms that were now used for storage. Long since abandoned, the last lessons taught in this part of the school took place decades, perhaps centuries, ago. A few aged tables, some broken down chairs, and a dusty chalkboard were the only remaining evidence that they had ever been filled with young students, all of them full of vigor and life.

An eerie silence fell over the odd trio as they meandered through the empty hallways and neglected rooms. For several minutes, the only audible sounds were the brisk pace of the Ginny's and Draco's feet and their rapid breathing. The tension in the air was palpable as they moved along toward their goal, and Draco could feel his excitement growing as his prize drew ever nearer.

Myrtle stopped abruptly, pointing to a door that was open about six inches. "Here. This is where it is." A pale, grayish light was emanating from the room, and there was a surrealistic feel in the air. Draco and Ginny looked at each other expectantly, as if they were on the verge of finding a precious treasure that had so far eluded them.

When they walked in and saw a full-length, antique mirror, Ginny smiled, feeling a great deal of relief that their quest was over. Examining the mirror, she noticed there were some letters inscribed at the top:

Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi.

Draco gulped audibly. So this was it. At last, the enchanted mirror he had sought for so long. It didn't look all that special; now that he saw it, it just looked . . . old. He strode up and took a good, long look at the structure, but he didn't behold the glass just yet. Glancing upward, he remarked, "What an odd inscription."

Ginny shrugged in answer, "Probably just part of its mysterious 'hidden meaning' you seem so certain of. But I promise you, it will not show your future -- just your dreams."

"Whatever, Weasley," countered Draco in his most derisive tone yet. With a self-righteous smirk on his face, he murmured, "Now, let's see if it actually knows anything."

Just then, Myrtle slid up from behind him and threw in her two knuts worth. "Oh, yes, it knows everything in your soul." Draco jumped; he had almost forgotten she was still there. She continued, "Headmaster Dippet said it would show a person's innermost dreams, even if they weren't aware of them."

Hmmm . . . How could someone not know what their own dreams are? Draco wondered. Coincidentally, Ginny was thinking much the same thing.

He stepped up to the mirror and gazed into it. At first, the vision was fuzzy and vague. Then as he had expected, he saw himself standing with his parents, who were very pleased with him. He was Head Boy, and he had just beaten his rival at Quidditch. Lucius's face glowed with pride, and Narcissa beheld her son, her eyes misty with love. Standing in front of the mirror, Draco's face resonated happiness.

"What do you see?" Ginny asked, interrupting his idyllic moment.

"It's me and my parents . . . I'm Head Boy, and I've just stomped the shit out of His Highness Potter at Quidditch." A slight grin fell across his face as he took in the sight. "Awesome," he laughed, not believing what he saw, but there was more to see.

"And I'm dating the prettiest girl in school. She's in love with me." He slowly went on, "I have friends -- real friends. Trustworthy people who actually care about me. Loads of them." His friends waved goodbye then faded from view. He started to step away as he summarized in disbelief, "You should try this, Weasley. It's freaky."

But the mirror wasn't finished yet. It showed him alone with his parents again, only this time, it felt different. His father no longer looked proud but shocked and anguished by the long, sharp blade that had been twisted into his back. Narcissa had tears of joy and relief running down her face. Her beloved son hugged her as Lucius collapsed to his knees and died as they both watched.

He was absolutely horrified at the image of himself and his mother standing by calmly as his father died. And one of us probably did it! Draco's stomach lurched as he looked on in astonishment. He murmured to himself, "This isn't right . . It can't be --"

Edging himself away from the mirror, he gasped with fright, trying to comprehend what he was seeing. He rubbed his eyes, as if willing this nightmare to end and the earlier visions to return.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, a touch of concern in her voice. She leaned in as if she, too, would see what he saw, but he seemed not to hear her.

The images blurred horribly and became distorted yet again. That's good. It's changing back. Once more, he looked into the mirror, thinking that it couldn't shock him anymore. He was never more wrong.

While it did change, it definitely wasn't what he had seen before. This time he saw a young woman with long, flowing ginger hair, light freckles, and cocoa eyes. She ran up to him, and he held her, kissing her passionately. She was pregnant with his child. Then from out of nowhere, three little ones, all under six years old, ran up and grabbed their father around his legs and waist.

Bloody hell! I have three ankle-biters and another on the way?? Do I lose my mind in the future?

Both of his little boys had his eyes and thick auburn hair. His daughter had light blonde hair, and her eyes and nose resembled those of the woman he had just been kissing. Mirror Draco returned his family's affection. He laughed euphorically and looked utterly blissful; he was grabbing the older boy, tossing him up in the air, and catching him. I look like an idiot! he thought as he looked on.

As upsetting as the images were, he had difficulty tearing his gaze away from the mirror. He kneeled in front of it, distraught and perturbed by what he had seen. Seething, he yelled, "That's not what I want! This is all bollocks!!!" He fled the room and raced for the nearest loo. Confused, his head was hurting terribly, and he felt like he would be violently ill. He lied down the cool floor to recover himself and analyze the meaning of these disturbing visions.

Myrtle followed him, concerned for her new friend. "What's wrong, Draco?" she inquired with care in her voice. "Did you see some things you didn't expect?"

"I don't know where those came from. They're certainly not my desires," he stated flatly.

Meanwhile, Ginny was left alone with the mirror. She couldn't resist the temptation of seeing her dreams played out before her eyes. Tentatively, she stepped up to it and concentrated. What do I want? Show me.

First, she saw Harry Potter standing victoriously over a vanquished Lord Voldemort. His Death Eaters surrounded his lifeless body -- Lucius Malfoy, Dolohov, Bellatrix LeStrange, McNair, and all of those she had seen that night at the Department of Mysteries. They were all stone cold dead, killed instantly by their close connection to their controlling master. When he fell, they did too. None of them would ever return.

Then the image blurred, just as it had done for Draco. She saw herself, ecstatically happy. Her father had just been named Minister of Magic, and her husband (My what - ? Husband?) was shaking Arthur's hand enthusiastically and congratulating him. She couldn't quite make out who the man was, but his most striking feature was his pale blonde hair. When she saw his eyes, she hit the ground in a dead faint.

Unsure how long she was out, she woke to see Moaning Myrtle hovering above her. The ghost was shouting her name; as she couldn't touch or shake her, Myrtle had to use what limited physical means she had to rouse the girl.

Sitting up, Ginny grunted, "Ugh. What a nightmare that was."

Curious, Myrtle asked, "What happened? Did it show what you wanted?"

"I don't think so. It must think I'm someone else," she answered despondently.

The ghost gazed at Ginny then drifted back toward the mirror, as if to have a look herself. Myrtle wondered casually whether it would still work for her; no longer having a physical being, she wasn't entirely sure that it would. She muttered, "Oh well, here goes nothing."

As she looked in the mirror, Myrtle got a wistful smile on her face, then quickly turned away. Ginny noticed her reaction. She felt rather curious; after all, what would a ghost want? She asked her, "Well? Did it show you something?"

Nodding, she replied, "I found what I've been looking for. I've decided what I want."

"What?"

"I want to leave Hogwarts."

Surprised, Ginny asked, "Have you been here a long time?" She had always thought that all the Hogwarts ghosts were permanent fixtures, rather like Hagrid and Professor Dumbledore.

"Oh, yes, many decades. I died long before Dumbledore ran the school. And now, I have decided I am ready to leave," Myrtle said, a bit dramatically. It seemed to be her forte.

Ginny nodded. Myrtle asked her suddenly, "Didn't it work for you?"

"I'm not really sure. I saw some of my dreams; most of them I was already conscious of. But to be honest, not all of the visions were comforting. One was downright unnerving." Ginny shuddered to herself. How could I want that? Him? He drives me bonkers!

"That's too bad. You know, Draco didn't look too happy himself. I wonder what he saw?" Myrtle teased. "And what could be keeping him?"

Ginny stood up and asked, "You mean he hasn't come back yet? Where did the prat go? Don't tell me he left without us!"

As soon as she had asked the question, he wandered back into the room. "No, Weaslette, I'm still here," Draco answered dully. His headache had subsided, but he was still feeling a bit shaken.

Ginny said, "We were just wondering what happened to you. What's the matter? See something you didn't like?"

"Leave me alone," he moaned. "I feel like shit."

"And you look like it, too," Ginny agreed.

"Shut your trap, woman! I'm ready to get the hell away from that -- that foreteller of doom!" Then as politely as he could manage, he pleaded with their escort, "Myrtle, if you would be so kind as to guide us?"

"Of course, I would be delighted." Draco thought she sounded different, maybe even happy, as if maybe she'd found a new purpose.

As they prepared to leave, Ginny put an end to his curiosity. "Myrtle has some good news. She said the mirror showed her something useful."

"What?" he asked, not really caring. His stomach was still a bit queasy, and he just wanted to sleep for the next 14 hours.

"I have decided that I am ready to leave Hogwarts," Myrtle announced, as if this were the most exciting thing in the world.

"Brilliant," he said sarcastically. "And praytell, what would a ghost have to do to achieve that lofty goal?"

"The same thing all ghosts need to do before they can leave. Make their peace. For me, that means solving the mystery of my death."

Ginny staggered slightly. "You mean you don't know -- how you died?"

"No, I don't," she whimpered, her lower lip starting to tremble.

"Great," Draco sniped quietly to Ginny. "Now you're going to start her crying, Weasley. The fun just never ends with you, does it?"

"Shh," she whispered. "I know."

He frowned at her and asked in an undertone, "You know what?"

"How she died."

"Well, don't go telling her until we make it back to civilization, all right?" he snarled.

"I won't, you moron!" she whispered.

They worked their way back in silence, each of them reflecting on what the mirror had shown them. Myrtle began humming happily to herself. Ginny started to ask her a question, saying, "Myrtle, --"

But Draco interrupted, "Shhh!" He stopped walking and cocked his head as if he were listening for something. I thought so. He commanded softly, "Be quiet. Someone's coming."

Ginny looked stricken, as there were no open doors into which they could easily slip. Then she remembered that she had the invisibility cloak. She had shrunk it down so it could fit inside her pocket. She took out the tiny fabric and whispered, "Engorgio," restoring it to its original size. "Harry's invisibility cloak," she explained on seeing Draco's bewildered expression.

She then turned to the ghost and said quietly, "Myrtle, I believe we can make our way back from here. Thank you so much -- you've been very helpful. I hope we meet again soon."

Myrtle nodded and smiled. "Me too. Goodbye, Draco, Ginny," she said, then she vanished through the nearest wall.

Ginny looked around nervously. The voices were getting closer, and she prepared to toss the cloak over the both of them. "Here, Malfoy. Stand next to me so we can share Harry's invisibility cloak."

"No, thank you. I want nothing of Potter's to touch my body," he replied indignantly.

"Oh, come on! Now's not the time for that!" she pleaded. If either of them were spotted, it would surely mean a week's worth of detentions, and she had Quidditch practice tomorrow evening.

He sighed loudly. "Oh, all right." She draped the cloak over his head and her own. She squeezed as close to him as possible so that whoever it was did not walk right into them. Feeling her breasts pressed against his chest once more, his heart rate sped up slightly. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, attempting to drive away what he was starting to feel. Oh, no -- now is definitely not the time for that. Focus. Yes, that's it. I don't want her. I don't even like her.

A thought came to her and she gasped, biting her lip. "Is it past curfew?" she asked.

Trying to concentrate on what she'd just said, he whispered in reply, "How would I know, and why would I care? As a prefect, at least I have an excuse. If we are found out, you will be the student I caught out after hours. You will, naturally, receive a detention, and I will receive points for Slytherin. It's a perfect arrangement, really," he finished smugly.

She implored, "Stop talking, you git! They're almost here." At the last possible moment, she cast the same silencing charm over them that he had used in the library the evening before last. It seemed like it was a lot longer ago than that, she observed.

Ginny inched even closer to him to ensure they were well out of the way. His brain was pleading, Oh, please don't do that. Normally, I wouldn't mind, but . . He forced his brain to focus on other things, in case he needed to face off whoever was in their corridor.

Soon afterward, four students rounded the nearest corner. They were led by --

"Michael Grant," Ginny said, astonished.

Draco was surprised as well, not that his housemate was coming down the nearly-deserted hallway, but because she seemed to recognize him. "You know him?"

"Of course, he's in my year. We have a few classes together. He seems very intelligent. Is he?"

Thick silence followed. When he made no attempt to respond, Ginny needled him, "Well, I just thought since he's in your house, you might know what he's up to. Why do you think he would be here at this hour?"

"No idea," was the only reply she received. As the small group approached the spot where the two of them were standing, Draco wondered, Now, why would Michael Grant and his entourage have followed us?