Unbidden Desires

Chapter 7 - Close Encounters

Draco found himself in a most precarious position: pressed up against the wall, hiding under Harry Potter's invisibility cloak, and sharing it with the muggle-loving blood traitor, Ginny Weasley. She was standing so close to him that he was having trouble concentrating, yet she kept squirming to get closer. He knew she was only trying to stay out of range of the surly crew that was now coming directly toward them, but he secretly wished she had some ulterior motive for her constant wriggling.

"Could you possibly hold still?" he hissed.

"Sorry, your hiney-ness!" she sniped rudely. "Just trying to keep one of those gorillas from crashing into my backside. Or would you prefer to trade places with me?" He gave her a fierce look in reply.

The approaching group was comprised of five male students, including Grant, Goyle, Nott, and Pucey. The fifth was a young boy, no more than 14, that neither Draco nor Ginny knew. All of the boys were wearing cloaks, the hoods hanging loosely on their heads. They were now just 20 feet away; the criminally insane Grant was in the lead. They strode along purposefully, as if they were expected somewhere and the appointed time had nearly arrived.

As far as Draco was concerned, their timing couldn't have possibly been worse. To be discovered would certainly spell his doom. Now that his father was taking the occasional day trip from Azkaban, he'd be dead for sure. Mother's not too old to conceive another heir. And Father is so smart, I'm sure he'd find some way to make it all legal. He could only watch helplessly as impending disaster fell on him.

Ginny's heart was in her throat, beating frantically. Praying that one of the new arrivals wouldn't accidentally brush up against her or kick her with a clumsy foot, she edged forward once more. Draco whispered sarcastically, "Careful, Weasley -- if you get any closer, you'll be in back of me!"

It seemed they waited an eternity for them to arrive. But when the boys finally reached their hiding spot, they breezed right by, moving so briskly that Ginny she felt the cloak stir. She exhaled softly, her mouth hanging open in disbelief at their good luck. "Whew, that was close! Where do you think they're going?" Ginny wondered aloud.

"I don't know, and I don't care. Let's just get the hell out of here," Draco said forcefully.

When the others were a good distance away, she slipped the invisibility cloak off. "You may be right," she said. Then she thought about what he had said about Grant and asked, "But you're not the least bit curious what they're up to?"

"No, why should I be? The area is utterly deserted. Nothing but cold, empty rooms with no fires in them and--"

Then she gasped, "Do you think maybe they're looking for the mirror, too? There's nothing else of any value in these dismal rooms." Ginny had been anxious to return to her tower, but her natural curiosity and daring spirit prevailed. She added impulsively, "Let's go after them!"

Draco scoffed, "Are you crazy, Weasley?!" Then he added sternly, "I am only saying this once, so listen carefully. We are leaving this hellhole, and I never want to see that blasted mirror again. And I am not about to traipse around this castle, wandering Merlin knows where, to follow a bloody lunatic!"

She stepped back and crossed her arms. In her most innocent voice, she said, "Just a moment ago, you knew nothing about him. Now he's a lunatic, is he? What would make you think that, Malfoy?" Her eyes were sparkling mischievously.

"Never you mind," he scowled. She just stood there smirking at him, so he elaborated. Sort of.

"It's none of your frigging business, Weasley. Finding that mirror was my project, and I say it's over. You are released of your obligation, Weasley -- your brother's stupid mistake is safe with me. I'll even sign a little magical contract, if you like. Let's just go!"

When that still did not dissuade her, he grudgingly explained, "All right, let's just say that -- I . . I've seen another side of Grant that I find . . mildly . disturbing," he finished slowly, concentrating on each word.

She cocked one eyebrow and looked at him smugly. She laughed, "This, coming from the son of Lucius Malfoy, 'The Poster Child for Disturbing Behavior'? Does this mean you can still find behavior that disturbs you? I didn't think that was possible."

He clenched his teeth at her wicked barb and stared at her, trying to think of a clever, witty comeback. When nothing came to him, he began with, "You insufferable little, orange-haired, poorhouse bi--"

She interrupted him sharply, "Well, if that's the best you can do, forget it!" She pleaded, "Look, we have to go now; they're getting away! I want to know what they're doing." She started to leave, but when she saw that he wasn't about to follow, she turned and grabbed his wrist.

He yanked it away and asked her snidely, "So you're not worried about curfew anymore? As a prefect, it's my duty to report you."

"Oh, bugger curfew! This could be big-time stuff! Besides, if anything happens, Harry can find us with his map--"

She stopped in mid-sentence. This revelation piqued Draco's curiosity almost as much as the mirror and the polyjuice potion incident had. It was his turn to raise an eyebrow, which he did as his lip curled. He inquired sweetly, "What map would that be, Ginny dear?"

"That's none of your business! I'm going, and I'm taking this cloak with me. If you want the only security you have against Filch and Mrs. Norris, you'll just have to tag along!"

He groaned then followed her reluctantly. She grinned to herself, thinking, Yay, I won! One hundred and fifty points for me! They pursued the boys, walking as quickly yet as quietly as possible, so that the sound of their footsteps didn't expose them. While their voices had been magically hushed so that no one else could hear them talk, their other physical movements could not be silenced.

Then she got a brilliant idea: "Malfoy, take off your shoes! We'll need to run to catch them up."

"But don't we know where they're going?" he whinged.

She pointed out the obvious. "Maybe we don't. What if they go somewhere completely different and we end up getting lost? How will we find our way back without their leading us -- even if they won't know they're doing it?"

He sighed, "Oh, all right." Removing his expensive shoes, he muttered, "Honestly, woman, the shit I go through for you . . . "

"Aww, poor baby -- however will you manage?" she teased. "Your little toesies might get cold, wearing those scrawny 'rich-boy' socks."

But it was a good idea; they could move faster, more smoothly, and with less noise while carrying their shoes. Damn, I hate it when she's right, Draco thought. Freckle-faced brat.

When the room that housed the Mirror of Erised was in sight, they slowed down. "Here," she whispered, hastily tossing the cloak over both their heads. As they approached the room, they heard voices inside. The door was still open, and the same soft grayish light radiated into the hallway, but it felt much spookier. Less hospitable. Something in the atmosphere had definitely changed. Ginny shivered and gathered the cloak around herself, as if the paper-thin material might actually warm her.

She gulped, edging the both of them as close to the doorway as she dared. She stood there, hoping against hope that none of the boys inside would decide to turn and suddenly dart out of the room. They would surely run directly into herself, as well as her reluctant companion.

"Weasley, I don't want to be caught!" Draco urged, "I told you, I don't trust this guy."

"We'll just watch them for a few minutes," she begged.

Something weird began to happen in the room. Ginny and Draco watched as Michael Grant instructed the others to get down on one knee and bow their heads; they did so with reverence. They were chanting some bizarre speech about their devotion to the greatest wizard that ever lived, each of them swearing that their faith in him would never waiver. How they would give their blood and even their flesh for him. How they would rather kill their friends, their parents, even themselves, before betraying him.

Geez, Ginny speculated, Draco's right for once. This guy is a loon. She whispered, "Gods, he's completely barmy."

"Don't I know it," he snorted softly. "He's power-hungry to the point of insane. He's nearly as bad as my father."

The make-shift ceremony within continued. As if on cue, the boys on the floor all pulled back their hoods, fully exposing their faces. They looked up at Michael respectfully, who was pacing slowly in front of them. He was holding up a small vial, and he spoke quietly and very seriously. "Now each of you will take one drop of this: Veritaserum. You will speak truthfully, so I will know what is in your heart. That way, I can inform my Master of your sincere willingness to join him. It is the first test of your devotion."

After he had given one drop of the potion to each of them, he set the bottle down. Michael turned around and spouted crossly, "And by the way, Goyle -- where is that son of a bitch Crabbe? I thought you were bringing him with you!" Draco's roommate shrugged guiltily but said nothing.

Outside the door, Ginny gasped, "Oh, sweet Merlin. He's going to have them spill their innermost secrets."

"Well, of course, he is. Even an imbecile can see that," Draco mocked.

She replied scathingly, "Oh, good, then he's not moving too fast for you, is he? Not just the potion, you dolt! He's going to use it with the mirror, in case they don't know what's in their hearts." Then she murmured to herself, "Like me."

He snorted, "It would be more likely that they'd get scared and try to lie." He paused then started to quiz her about her experience with the mirror. "I forgot to ask you, Weasley. Exactly what did you see in the mirror?"

Ginny's mind raced for a plausible lie. Fortunately for her, Michael Grant began speaking at that very moment. "Now each of you, one at a time, will step up the Mirror of Erised. I will ask some very important questions of you. Those who answer correctly will be given a task. A test of your loyalty. Before we begin, does anyone wish to recant their earlier statements?"

The youngest boy shakily raised his hand. He stuttered, "Mr. Grant, I c-ca-can't -- I can't go through with this. I'm not ready."

He looked down at him from his position of power and smiled. "Thank you for your honesty, Darrin. It will save me a good deal of precious time." Then he uttered, "Stupefy," stunning the boy on the spot. When his victim fell to the floor, he said, "Obliviate."

Ginny let out a gasp. Draco sneered, "What? At least he didn't hurt him." They both expected Grant to move on with the ritual.

But the madman wasn't quite finished with the boy yet. Grant took what appeared to be a pocket watch out of his cloak and spoke into it. "Pettigrew? Put this boy's father into St. Mungo's. I don't care how you do it; just do it. And as for his mother -- do whatever you and the other men -- feel like. We need to send a clear message that such weakness will not be tolerated among our ranks."

"Yes -- yes, sir," a nervous, squeaky voice replied. Ginny was shocked by Grant's callous attitude. She bit her lip to keep from crying for the poor boy and his parents. Draco, on the other hand, was taken aback at the way this 15-year-old boy spoke to a man rumored to be one of the most senior Death Eaters. True, Wormtail was a suck-up and a sniveling coward that he himself despised, but the tone this lad took with him was quite surprising.

Grant closed the device and muttered to no one in particular, "No one gets out of this that easily. I do not like being trifled with." Then to the group at large, he said sternly, "Veritaserum is a precious commodity not easily come by, as is my time. Is anyone else here getting cold feet?"

The remaining members of the party shook their heads to confirm their readiness to move forward. "Good," Grant said approvingly. He turned to Draco's roommate. "Gregory Goyle, if you would step up to the mirror?"

Goyle did as he was instructed, then Grant continued. "Now, look into the glass. Focus, and you will see your heart's desire. Tell me everything, exactly as the mirror displays it."

At first, the boy hesitated to speak, so Michael urged him gently, "What do you want most of all?"

"Susan Bones. I want to shag her till she begs for mercy. She is sooo hot," Goyle moaned. He looked greedily into the mirror and licked his lips on seeing his sexy fantasy girl riding him like a bike. The front of his robes started to protrude slightly just below his ample waistline.

"Ewww," Draco cringed a bit, expressing his distaste with a grimace.

"What?" Ginny whispered harshly to him. "She's very attractive. I could see Goyle wanting her, regardless how repulsive he may be."

"Hmmph," was his first response. "Her? Attractive? That's a matter of opinion."

Meanwhile, Grant slumped a bit then rolled his eyes. He sighed as if he was struggling to maintain his patience. If this recruit failed him, it would require a little extra effort, as his parents were not on the list of expendables -- at least, not at the moment. As if speaking to a dullard or a small child, he prompted, "Besides that, Greg, what else do you see?"

Clearing his throat, Goyle continued, "I see myself being congratulated by the Dark Lord and kissing his hand. He is welcoming me and my wife, Mrs. Susan Goyle, into their inner circle. We've peformed a great service for him."

"Excellent, Gregory!" Michael exclaimed. "Then I charge you with a task. You are to win the heart of your princess and convert her to the Dark Lord's service. I understand her aunt holds a powerful position in the Ministry of Magic. Their family could be of great use to us. Once Susan has been persuaded, both of you will be most welcome to receive the Mark. Do this, and rest assured, you will have her. Whenever you want to." Goyle looked up with a dopey expression on his face. Michael patted his head and said kindly, "Now please sit down and wait for us to finish."

Draco whispered to Ginny, "Poor Greg. That's a fate worse than death."

"More like poor Susan," she countered smartly, giving Draco a look of disdain. But before she could comment further, Grant went on. He called Theodore Nott to stand before the mirror.

"Mr. Nott, what do you see?" he inquired.

He stared intently into the glass. Theodore said quite plainly and very coldly, "I see myself murdering Albus Dumbledore. The Dark Lord is extremely pleased with me. Now I am giving him Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived is about to become The Boy Who Died. He is in shackles, crawling on his hands and knees, crying, begging for his life, and asking me to spare his pathetic friends: Granger and the two remaining Weasleys that continue to pollute this school."

"Such vivid imagery, Nott! You deserve a special challenge, my friend." Grant was fairly beaming with delight.

"Thank you, Mr. Grant," he replied with a smile.

"Do you know Blaise Zabini?"

Draco suddenly felt alarmed. Blaise? What's he done?

"Yes, sir, I do."

"Good. He is dating an American muggle whom he is parading as a pureblood witch. Says she's his cousin, to be precise. For his incredible arrogance, Mr. Zabini is to be destroyed, and you are the one charged with the deed. By whatever means necessary, short of actual murder, you are to get him out of this school," Michael ordered. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir, I shall not fail."

Draco swallowed nervously. Does Blaise really know that Marianne -- is a muggle? What the hell was he thinking, falling in love with her?! The absurd fool!

Grant released Nott to go and sit by Goyle. He then called the third individual to step up to the mirror. It was Adrian Pucey, a seventh-year on the Slytherin Quidditch team. Draco shuddered at what task his vision would earn him. He'll probably get the honor of knocking me off my broomstick during practice. Fewer witnesses than at an actual game.

Ginny leaned over to Draco and said quietly, "If Michael has it in for you, Pucey will probably be asked to knock you off your broom at the next Quidditch practice."

Amazed, he replied, "Damn, you are one scary witch, you know that? Now be quiet, I want to hear what they say."

"Haven't we heard and seen enough?" she asked in a worried tone. "Besides, I think I hear Filch coming."

"You're just making that up because you were in the mirror as one of Nott's victims. You're just scared."

"I am not!" she retorted. "I'm telling you, I can hear his irritating voice a mile away, and it's definitely him."

"All right, all right," he agreed grudgingly. "But if you're wrong and I miss Pucey's task on your account--"

Just then, Mrs. Norris rounded the corner. Draco's breath caught in his throat. Fuck. The uncannily intelligent cat growled low and then hissed. It was as if she could see through the invisibility cloak and actually recognized him.

Ginny and Draco backed away slowly, so as not to uncover their feet and expose themselves. He whispered, "I hope that rumor about Filch and Mrs. Norris being able to communicate telepathically is just that -- a bloody rumor."

She said nervously, "Calm down, uh, she can't see us . . at least, I -- I think she can't."

Argus Filch's dry, grating voice crept down the darkened corridor, saying, "What is it, my sweet, my love? Did my beautiful Mrs. Norris find something?"

Ginny felt sickened. That is one weird guy, she affirmed to herself. He's just a little too close to that cat.

She and Draco instinctively worked their way around and into the next doorway, attempting to stay close together, and thereby, out of reach of Mrs. Norris's inquisitive, searching nose. But the feline's whiskers soon tickled Draco's toes, which were partially sticking out from underneath the cloak. He snickered quietly, but Ginny nudged him the side. "Be quiet, you prat! Maybe she can't see us, but she can probably hear and smell us. Once she leaves us alone and Filch reaches that door, we'll be home free! And Grant will be in so much trouble."

As they kept backed away from her, he commented cruelly, "Well, I'm sure she can smell you, anyway. Malfoys shower daily."

"You are a real arsewipe, you know that?"

"I do my best, sweetheart," was his sarcastic response.

Mr. Filch crooned lovingly to his pet, saying, "All right, my dear, who is it? Who did we find?" The strange cat suddenly turned and moved away from Ginny and Draco. The pair carefully eased their way into an alcove that was diagonally across from the open door, waiting to see what would happen next. Mrs. Norris moved toward the room that the boys were in.

Following her, Argus muttered, "I thought I heard voices. Good work, my girl." Throwing himself into the room, he bellowed, "What are you boys doing out of bed? It's long past curf--"

Before Filch knew what was happening, Nott had stunned the poor old squib. "Wonderful!" Grant congratulated him. "That old man is truly a menace. And don't forget his creepy cat." Smirking, Theodore repeated the spell on her.

As Pucey was standing well away from the mirror, Draco mentioned to Ginny that he must have already seen his vision and received his task. She agreed, "Yeah, it looks like we managed to miss both of them."

The bizarre event appeared to be over, as the four boys were standing and shaking one another's hands jovially. Goyle, Nott, and Pucey were eagerly planning how they would accomplish their individual tasks. Rather than revive the others, they all laughed cruelly and left them in the room.

After the foursome had gone several feet up the hallway, Ginny briskly removed the invisibility cloak. "That was pure maliciousness!" she stated, entering the room. "We can't just leave them here."

Following her inside, he contradicted, "Oh, yes, we can. I'm getting my arse out of here -- bugger the lot of them! They'll wake up . . eventually."

She surveyed the room, looking at the bodies, all three of them lying there as if they were dead. "Oh, that's kind of you. I always knew you Malfoys were so charitable." She felt concerned for them, even Darrin, the Death Eater Wannabe. She said, "After being stunned like that, Filch will probably be so disoriented, he won't remember anything that happened. And they memory-charmed Darrin, so he won't even know why he's here. I even feel sorry for the cat."

"You deal with them, then. Blaise is in trouble, and I need to warn him. Even if you Gryffindors don't like us, he's still my best mate," he attested.

"Wait, I think we need to tell Professor Dumbledore about this right away. They can't get away with this! Think of what terrible things could be happening to Darrin's mother right now! And he probably has no knowledge that any of this ever happened -- the poor kid!"

"Well, at least he won't feel any guilt," he offered. Receiving no reply from Ginny, he sighed exasperatedly and walked across the room. "You know, you just beat all, Weasley. A guy just can't win an argument with you." Reaching for the floor, he sat down to put on his shoes and said, "Anyway, I heard in the last prefect meeting that Dumbledore was going away for a few days. I think he left yesterday."

"Shit, you're right. I hate when that happens," Ginny grumbled.

"What? When I'm right or when you're wrong?" he asked her.

"Oh, stuff it," she said. She exhaled noisily as she finished putting her shoes back on. "We'll just have to see McGonagall about this. She's Deputy Headmistress."

"I know that, but there's really no reason to approach either her or the headmaster. Not yet, anyway."

"No reason?!" she jumped on him. "How do you figure that? Darrin's parents are in trouble, as is your best friend!"

"You are a ninny, aren't you? Since Grant is in Slytherin, it could all be handled quietly as an in-house matter. I'll approach Professor Snape first and see what he says. Now let's go, before Filch comes to!"

"Oh, I don't know, I don't know," she fretted, wringing her hands. "I can't just leave them here. My conscious wouldn't let me sleep tonight."

"All right, Weasley. We'll move them first. I'll tell Professor Snape where to find them as soon as I get back to Slytherin. Since I'm a prefect, he might not think it odd that I found them. I'll just say I was doing a routine hall check. He'll buy that." Even though we're miles from anywhere. I think he'll believe me.

I hope.

"All right," she finally relented. "So, Mr. Smarty Pants, how do we move two bodies that are stunned and utterly deadweight?"

"Leave that to me." He pointed his wand to Filch and uttered, "Mobilicorpus." He did the same to Darrin, and both of them soon rose to an upright position and were floating a few inches off the ground. Their feet dangled and their heads bobbed about, as if they were life-size marionettes on unseen strings. Ginny was sure she'd never seen a stranger sight in her life.

"That looks really weird," she commented.

He nodded, "One sees a lot of weird things growing up at Malfoy Manor." When she just stood there staring at him and the two figures hanging in mid-air, Draco asked smartly, "Well, were you planning on getting the cat, or would your conscience let you leave her here?"

Ginny picked her up tenderly. As she walked along, she stroked Mrs. Norris absently. She held her close, nuzzling into her neck and whispering softly, "I'm sorry this happened, Mrs. Norris. And I'm sorry you got petrified a few years ago. I still feel guilty, even though it wasn't really my fault."

The return journey seemed much shorter, as it often does. Draco was still very curious to find out what Ginny saw in the mirror. He pressed her once again to tell him what her vision was. He asked, "So the mirror showed something you weren't even aware you wanted? What was it?"

"Let's just say it was not good," was her vague answer.

Trying to persuade her to tell exactly what was so horrible, he practically sang, "Come on, it's only fair. I shared my vision with you. Now it's your turn."

Changing the subject, she interjected suddenly, "I just thought of something. Your vision proves the mirror doesn't predict the future!"

"Oh, it does?" Looking her directly in the eye, Draco asked, "And how did your little Weasley brain come to that brilliant conclusion?"

"You said you were Head Boy, right?" When he nodded, she continued with her theory. "Well, in Ron's vision, he was Head Boy! Since you two are in the same year, you can't both be Head Boy."

He fumed silently over her words and began rationalizing with himself. So what? Her brother doesn't stand a chance of being named Head Boy. A veela has a better chance of dying a virgin than Ron Weasley has of becoming Head Boy.

But bloody hell, the witch has a point. She is so fucking irritating.

On reexamining the evidence, he reasoned that part of what he'd seen was obviously what he wanted most: admiration, leadership, excelling in Quidditch -- even his parent's love. Other images may have been a possible, however unlikely, future. And what of those additional scenes, the ones that were utterly preposterous? Perhaps the mirror itself was another of Dumbledore's sick jokes, and it displayed outlandish visions just to screw with a person's head. It was a bit confusing, as the images seemed to contradict one another. Which ones were his destiny and which were his desires? Feeling confident that he knew, he turned away from her to hide his sneer and said reassuringly, "You know, Weasley, you're probably right about that."

Ginny soon saw a set of stairs that she recognized. She sighed in relief. "What do we do with them?" she asked, pointing to the figures of Darrin and Filch. Both of them were still floating, eerily silent, in a kind of suspended animation.

But they were still a good ways from the kitchens. "Let's drop them off over there," Draco said. "Will that ease your guilty conscience, Miss Goody Gryffindor? Besides, if either one wakes up, we don't want him seeing us leave, right?"

"Right," she agreed heartily. He lowered them both to the floor, first Darrin, then Filch. His careful control slipped ever so slightly as the caretaker suddenly dropped to the floor the rest of the way.

"Ooops," Draco said mockingly, a touch of false pity in his voice. Ginny seemed not to notice. Having already put the cat down, she was now fussing over Darrin (The poor, misguided boy!), making sure he was as comfortable as possible.

When she looked up, she sighed heavily, "Whew! What an experience that was."

"I'll say," he agreed. "Definitely the most bizarre of my life, and I've slept with Milicent Bulstrode." Ginny shot him a glance, but she couldn't help snickering.

She said, "I've got to get back to my room. It must be dreadfully late -- Ron's probably having kittens by now. I'll just remove the silencing charm--"

"Wait," Draco interrupted. She looked at him expectantly. After a few seconds of awkward silence, he offered a truce. "Listen, Weasley, to show my appreciation, let me get us a little something from the kitchens. Perhaps some cake and tea? Just to bury the hatchet and show there's no ill will between us, all right?"

Ginny nearly fell over. Yeah, right! she thought. You want to bury the hatchet, all right -- in my skull! Incredulous, she asked, "What?! You actually want to do something nice for me, just for going along with your little blackmail scheme?"

He winced a little, as if he were offended. "Blackmail has such . . dirty implications. But if you must call it that, well -- yes. I do appreciate your help. That whole mirror thing was taking way too long, and in the end, the visions were rather helpful. Sort of. And, incredibly, you've actually been -- decent enough company," he said, looking down his nose at her.

"Well, gee, thanks. Now I feel all warm and fuzzy inside," she said snidely. "But I thought you had to run off and help your mate, Zabini?"

"Yes, I do need to speak with Blaise, PDQ. It's just that, well, I'm sure he's in a deep sleep by now, and with Goyle returning to the room we all share, I thought tomorrow at breakfast might be a better time." When she didn't respond, he added, "So will you stay and have a bite with me?"

"I'm not really hungry or thirsty," she insisted.

He took her hand and kissed it tenderly. "Just let me do this. Please. Besides, you once brought me something to eat. I just want to return the favor," he said.

She reconsidered for a moment. She couldn't shake the mirror's images from her head. Then she said nervously, "Okay. I'll just wait over here in the nook till you get back." The words, I'm sure I'll regret this, ran through Ginny's mind more than once.

He smiled at her then turned toward the kitchens, tickling the pear on the painting to enter. As he prepared their tea, he snickered to himself, "Oh, yes, Miss Weasley. You will tell me what you saw."