Unbidden Desires

CHAPTER 14 - A Momentary Lapse of Reason

Ginny and Draco watched cautiously as Gregory Goyle, Theodore Nott, and Michael Grant came up the hallway toward the kitchens. Perched in their hiding spot, she whispered to him, "Maybe we'll find out why they're here in the first place." Thinking how utterly stupid that sounded, she added, "I mean, aside from the obvious goal of getting something to eat." She cast a quick Silencing charm to help them remain undetected.

The three boys were unaware they had a small audience, and their discussion grew quite loud. As it did, Kreacher slunk out of sight. Fortunately for Draco and Ginny, eavesdropping was not difficult, and Grant started things off swimmingly. "So, Gregory," he asked with a smirk, "how are things going with you and Susan Bones? Is she convinced that your way is the only way, or does she still need -- persuading?"

Goyle blushed at the mention of Susan's name. Knowing he had yet to say more than three words to her, he confessed sheepishly, "I'm working on it. I've sat next to her at the library a couple of times, brushed up against her hand -- I almost kissed her once, but I lost my nerve at the last minute." He mumbled the last part then blushed again, causing Grant to roll his eyes and give him a thoroughly disgusted look. The expression was so blatant that even the empty-headed thug caught its meaning and asked him testily, "What?"

"Gods, at this rate, she'll be someone else's wife before you even lay one of your fat fingers on her breast!" Michael laughed incredulously. Yet his tone made it clear that he was quite serious. He groused, "Can't you do any better than that? You've had more than a month. She should be eating out of your hand by now, you stupid lout! Or are you just ignorant of how to get a girlfriend?" When he didn't respond, Grant suggested, "Maybe you should ask Malfoy. I hear he can probably guide you in that department."

He said nothing to this but tried changing the subject. Chuckling nervously, Goyle began, "Hey, Nott, I've been meaning to tell you something, but I keep forgetting to."

Draco thought, Wow, I didn't know Goyle could think of two things at once. I'm impressed.

Perplexed, Nott asked, "What?"

Goyle said admiringly, "Great job, sending that mirror to Zabini. That was classic; getting him to do himself in! A stroke of bloody genius."

Draco forced himself not to cry out loud. He looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him, and Ginny's face grew pale on hearing the thug's caustic remarks. When the lovers' eyes met, they both felt a calming sense of peace, something about Blaise that was -- well, odd, yet rather comforting. He was no longer angry and focused on hearing Nott's response.

"What?! It wasn't me. I wish it were."

To say that Goyle was shocked was an understatement. Even Grant looked mildly surprised. "It wasn't you?" he asked, dumbfounded. "Then who did it? That was an utterly brilliant move."

"I don't know," Nott replied unapologetically. "I had something else in mind that involved his muggle slut; I was just waiting for her to send me a lock of her hair."

Goyle wondered aloud, "Why would she send you some of her hair?"

"I wrote and told her I was a friend from Blaise's school, and I wanted to make him a collage of her for his birthday." He sighed, "Damn, the Polyjuice would have been ready any day now. I had it brewing under my bed with an Odor Removal charm." Waggling his eyebrows, he said, "I even had Milicent all set on the idea; muggles call it 'role-playing'. I was really looking forward to it."

"Well, whoever sent that mirror has a real future in the business," Grant observed proudly. "A very promising future indeed." When the point of Kreacher's unusually large ears appeared from behind the kitchen doorway, Michael turned around and quickly Stunned both boys. He spun on the ugly little elf and hissed sharply, "Well?! What is it? What do you need to tell me that demands I leave the comfort of my House to meet with you -- you little peckerhead? This had better be good!"

He stammered then said with respect, "Kreacher is terribly sorry to disturb you, Mr. Grant . . sir . . . but he has seen them again. They were here, but they left."

"And you're sure it was them? The both of them, together?" Grant asked suspiciously. Draco understood perfectly; he knew that while house-elves were fiercely loyal, they were also notoriously stupid.

"You -- you said to watch for red hair, right?" Kreacher asked. As if begging for confirmation, he rapidly waggled his head up and down, causing his floppy ears to droop even more. "Kreacher would know it anywhere." Grant's eyes narrowed and his lips pursed as he nodded slowly. His expression grew even tighter as he clenched his wand, clearly intent on aiming it at someone.

Ginny thought to herself, Oh, no! Had Kreacher seen my brothers while they were at the school?

"Yes, I did, you contemptible fool," he sneered mockingly. Then brandishing his wand, he shouted, "Crucio!" Kreacher's legs wobbled slightly, then he fell to his knees in front of the young wizard, whimpering in pain. When Grant ended the curse, his little victim eventually stood before him and tried to apologize for the error of his ways.

"Not to be . . presumptuous . . . sir, why did Mr. Grant do that? Kreacher must have deserved your wrath, but why?"

Grant explained irritably, "That was for not impeding them like I instructed you to! On the extremely likely chance that you're still not perfectly clear about this, your job is to stop them and then Apparate to me immediately. Is that understood yet?" he asked, strongly emphasizing the last word. The poor house-elf nodded, horror and awe in his eyes.

Ginny had never witnessed anyone actually receive the Cruciatus curse before. Even though she despised Kreacher, she felt a twinge of sympathy for him, until she remembered that the devious little wart was after her brothers. In a hoarse whisper, he said, "Yes." Then in an even lower voice, yet very certain of himself, he said: "If Kreacher sees them again, he will stop them."

The young wizard glanced around then spoke in a very low voice that neither Draco nor Ginny could hear. Oh, what I wouldn't give for a pair of Extendable Ears right now! she thought. The brute continued hissing at Kreacher and even smacked him a couple of times for good measure. He eventually finished, and the elf scurried away, scraping and bowing as he went.

Next, Grant pointed his wand to each of his partners in crime and said, "Enervate." Putting up a good imitation of being slightly dazed as well, he explained that when they tried to enter the kitchens, the door had some sort of shocking spell on it. All three of them were thrown back by its force, and he suggested that they just leave for now. Surprised at his audacity, Ginny thought, That underhanded, lying bastard!

As they left the area, Goyle moaned, "Oh, damn, now all I have to eat is that crappy candy Malfoy traded with me ages ago. It's this rotten mix his mum sends him . . sorry if he hates it, but I don't really like it either; I was just hungry that day . . . Don't know where she gets the shit from . . ," droning on and on until they were well out of earshot.

Ginny stomped her foot in frustration and vocalized what she had been mulling over. "Oooh, I just want to kill that Grant!" She added, "And now those creeps are after my brothers. Why?"

But Draco wasn't so sure. He just shook his head. "I don't know," was his empty reply.

Turning her attention back to him, she asked with concern, "Now are you sure you're all right? Did my brothers hex or punch you? Kick you?" His eyes widened slightly, surprised that she knew exactly how ruthless they could be. "I'll take that as a yes," she smirked. Opening his robes in a no-nonsense, professional manner, she ordered him, "Lift your jumper."

"Yes, Mummy," he teased.

Then she saw it: a purplish bruise surrounded by a red mark that could have been no wider than three or four inches. "So one of them did kick you. Pretty hard, too. Does it still hurt?" she asked, as she touched it gingerly.

His sharp hiss was his affirmative response. She muttered a common Healing spell that eased his discomfort immediately, enabling him to take a full breath for the first time since feeling the toe of that boot strike him in the ribs. "All better now?" she asked, a caring look on her face.

He closed his eyes momentarily, nodded with gratitude, and whispered, 'Thank you.'

"No problem. Hey, someone's got to look after you, even if you are a Slytherin, and a Malfoy to boot," she teased. "You really should go visit Madame Pomfrey, just to be sure there's no permanent damage. She can probably give you a potion to help you rest through any discomfort."

Draco raised his hands in protest, as if she had just crossed a line that she didn't even know existed. "Oh, no," he said vehemently. "I've had enough of her potions to last me a lifetime. When I can get them down without my throat constricting and my stomach trying to vomit them back up, they only do a minimal amount of what I would call actual 'healing.' Everyone says she's wonderful, but I've certainly never seen it."

She tutted irritably, "Fine, we'll just see how it looks tomorrow."

Draco's eyes lit up. "You can meet me again tomorrow?" he asked excitedly.

Shrugging casually, she replied, "It's the least I can do to make up for the disaster that was tonight. Don't you agree?"

"Yes, I do. You owe me at least that much, you heartless wench." He grabbed her tightly at the waist and kissed her soundly. After a few minutes of exploring her with his lips and tongue, he remembered that she had said something about being famished. Besides, hearing a girl's stomach rumble during the throes of passion does make it rather hard to concentrate. He suggested, "So do you want something to eat? We're right by the kitchens, and you know as well as I do that the door is not 'hexed'."

Ginny smiled and sighed. "No, thanks, I'm really not all that hungry anymore. Running into Hogwarts' resident junior Death Eater squad sort of made me lose my appetite," she grimaced. "I just want to go and get some sleep." She kissed him lightly and murmured, "Good night, Draco."

He was mildly disappointed, but then figured it was probably for the best, as he was pretty well knackered himself. He managed a light smile and said, "Good night, Gin. I'll send you an owl before breakfast." His sexy grin made her heart flutter, and she felt somewhat light-headed.

"All right." Turning away from him before she changed her mind, she moved down the hallway rapidly. Curfew had once again come and gone. She knew she was taking far too many chances -- flirting with disaster, as it were. I need to start being more sensible, she chastised herself. This almost isn't worth it.

Her brain was telling her to be reasonable; a relationship she had to hide was never going to work, with or without Morgaine's visions of her future. Besides, why can't I have a normal boyfriend, one of whom my brothers would approve? Then with stark revelation, she stopped in the middle of the corridor and asked aloud to no one, "Why do I need their bloody approval at all?"

She shook her head in frustration then began walking again. Working her way toward Gryffindor Tower, she chose the less-traveled paths whenever possible. She listened intently for any signs of life, but there were none. Just creepy, deafening silence. She found it to be somewhat unnerving, and it made her feel like she were being followed or watched.

But there was no one else there. She wondered, How much farther away is it? In her mild panic, she couldn't exactly remember.

Suddenly struck by inspiration, she snapped her fingers and said in her head, What am I thinking? I'm so stupid! Harry's map -- it's still in my robes! I'll just keep an eye on that, and everything will be fine. She pulled the Marauder's Map out of her robes and spoke an oath, the one that she had memorized years ago, long before she came to Hogwarts. She had picked it up while the map's previous owners were on their summer holidays from school . .

~~~

Ginny bolted out the front door of the Burrow, throwing herself into the sticky August breeze that offered no respite from the heat. Frustrated, she said aloud, "I'm sick of those annoying twins constantly torturing me!" She had had enough of sporting feathers and pink hair for one day and was bound for her place of sanctuary, the old treehouse their dad had built for Bill and Charlie more than a decade before. Clutching her favorite book, she ascended the rickety ladder, intent on reading and just being alone for a while.

She relished these rare moments of solitude. After reading for an hour or so, she laid down for a bit of rest. Shortly after she started to dream, the front door of the house slammed shut, awakening her instantly. She peered out and saw Fred and George coming her way. Determined not to become their latest 'case study', her senses went into overdrive. Feigning sleep was no good; just because one of their siblings was sleeping was no insurance that the impish pair wouldn't try one of their experiments on them anyway.

But this time, she was ready for them. Oh, was she ready. She reached into her pocket and withdrew Ron's brand new wand -- he had just picked it up at Diagon Alley a few days ago, along with his other school supplies, in preparation for his first trip to Hogwarts. Turning over quietly onto her stomach to get a better aim at them, she peeked through a knothole in the floor, fascinated by what she saw and heard.

As it happened, the twins weren't looking for her, nor did they know she was there. Instead, they were studying some sort of enchanted map. Images would appear then disappear as they repeatedly recited what must have been its activation spell and counterspell. Ginny was never sure how or where they learned them, but that day, they inadvertently taught them to her. Soon, both phrases were solidly etched in her mind: "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," and, more importantly, "Mischief managed."

Ginny smiled to herself, thinking that feathers were a small price to pay for such valuable information.

~~~

Truthfully, she didn't know what she would have done with that wand, but having seen and heard countless spells cast by her various family members, she felt certain she could have done something if she'd had to. And as for the so-called restrictions on the use of underage magic, the Weasley children could thank Arthur's paternal great-great-grandfather for having adequately dealt with those irritants.

Their clever ancestor had placed a few unique charms on the property nearly two centuries ago -- a time when the enforcement branch of the Ministry of Magic was young and had not taken much notice of wizarding families who lived beyond large cities like London or its sprouting suburbs. Aside from the normal security wards and protective spells, he had also cast a few charms that allowed his descendents to completely ignore the burgeoning restrictions on underage magic. He thought they were 'utterly senseless and impeded young people's imagination.' Naturally, Fred and George sang his praises on a regular basis and even went so far as to celebrate the man's birthday every year.

Although Molly had requested that Arthur remove these particular charms ("To avoid any inquiries at work," she had said) on numerous occasions, he felt it was only fair that the other children be allowed to defend themselves, in particular, their poor, hapless Percy. Besides, Arthur thought it might be disrespectful to go against the wishes of an ancestor. It didn't mean Molly liked the idea, but after seeing the twins in action, she learned to accept it. So the children only had their mum to fear; she didn't look much like an imposing figure, but at times, she was more frightening than the Wizengamot itself.

Momentarily banishing all memories of the Burrow, Ginny returned her full concentration to her mission -- getting to Gryffindor Tower without being caught. She stepped into a darkened doorway and whispered, "Lumos." Scrutinizing the magical parchment, she squinted her eyes and surveyed it for tiny dots representing Mr. Filch or any other school employees or prefects. She saw a few, including her own and that of her lover on his way down to the Slytherin dungeons. Again, her heart skipped a beat. Observing that he was about halfway there, she said a silent prayer that he would make it the rest of the way without being caught, or else tomorrow evening was definitely off. Fortunately, the caretaker and his cat were miles away, prowling about the Trophy Room. She breathed a sigh of relief.

Then she saw something that made her do a double-take -- a name that made her think the map had gone all wonky.

'Lucius Malfoy?' she read. But that's . . . impossible.

She felt a deep, unsettling fear at seeing Draco's father's name on the map. As far as she knew, the Marauder's Map was utterly infallible. Eyeing it suspiciously, she wondered whether the map could make a mistake. And who would know for sure? Her mind raced urgently for that information. Then it hit her.

Who, indeed?

She walked as quickly as she could toward her destination, all the while keeping her eyes on the map for any change in the dots. The only one shift in their positions was that Draco had arrived where his father stood. Knowing only a portion of the cruelty this man was capable of, she suspected that this father-son lecture could quite possibly turn deadly. Desperate for the truth about the map in her hands, she sprinted the remainder of the way, heedless of any possible obstacles she might encounter. She just had to speak with the one person on Earth who could still tell her . . .

When she arrived, her heart was thumping in her chest. She took her wand and whispered a Recovery charm, then straightened her robes and her hair, in an effort to look respectable rather than disheveled. She stole another glance at the map. Lucius's dot was still there, but if it were to disappear, she wasn't sure how she would explain what she'd seen without sounding utterly insane. If his name was gone, how could she prove that it had ever been there?

She hesitated but a moment at the entrance to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom; it was very late, but sensing the urgency of the situation, she called out, "Professor Lupin?"

She hoped against hope that he was there and that he was awake. It was simply imperative that she see him immediately! The situation was -- it was . . . well, at the very least, there was a dangerous, escaped convict on the grounds of Hogwarts! How had he managed to do it? Wasn't that physically impossible? Surely, Mr. Malfoy isn't an Animagus? she wondered. She could not comprehend it, nor could she still the fear that consumed her.

Emerging from his private quarters in casual evening robes, Professor Lupin looked mildly shocked. "Ginny! Isn't it a bit late to be wandering the halls?" he asked.

She sighed with relief, "Thank the gods, you're here." At his confused expression, she cleared her throat nervously. She was so frightened, she hardly knew where to begin. "Professor, I'm sorry to disturb you at this hour," she apologized. "But I had to speak with you . . Only you would know--"

She glanced once more at the map and felt her lungs constrict; Draco's father's name was nowhere to be seen.

The professor, who was watching her intently, prompted, "Ginny? What is it? You look as if you've seen a boggart."

"No, sir, but I do have a rather -- unusual situation that I need to discuss with you. A question, actually. You are the only one who would know for sure."

She paused, thinking how bizarre this was going to sound. When she did not continue, he prompted, "Yes?"

She sighed again, this time embarrassed at how ridiculous this might all sound. "Er, I, er, borrowed the Marauder's Map from Harry and--"

He interrupted, "You have Harry's map?", his eyebrows raised in curiosity. "Do you know how it works? What it does?"

"Well, yes. Fred and George are my brothers." He nodded in understanding and bit back a grin. He was beginning to wish that had never been involved in creating this blasted map; it had caused far more trouble than it was ever intended to. Reminding her of her mission, he asked, "Ginny? You had a question?"

She cleared her throat nervously. There was no other way to say it but to . . just say it. She blurted out rapidly, "Professor Lupin, can the Marauder's Map make a mistake or tell a blatant lie? I mean, can it show someone who isn't actually there, yet say they are?"

He shook his head at her unusual question and sighed heavily with an ironic laugh. "Not as far as I know, but Sirius was the one who added the bit about showing the names. He and James discussed the possibility of letting an Animagus slip by undetected, or allowing someone who was Polyjuiced to show up as that person instead. It was sort of their way of giving the person 'bonus points' for being clever and resourceful. But eventually, we all decided it would be best if the name of the actual person appeared."

"Like Barty Crouch, Jr., pretending to be Professor Moody," she said without feeling. At least her question was answered. But should she tell him why she had to know? What would his reaction be to that?

"Exactly. So Harry told you all about that, did he?" he asked dryly.

She shook her head and smiled faintly, "No, Ron did. We talk quite a bit during the summer. I know they sometimes left me out during my earlier school years, but during the summer hols -- I'm all he's got."

"And whose name did you see on the map that alarmed you? What made you want so badly to verify its truthfulness, that you would risk a detention by coming down here to see me, when you should be in your room?" he asked testily. He sounded almost . . Snape-ish.

Urgh, she groaned internally. The professor is coming out in him. Well, here goes nothing.

Waving the map in front of him, she informed him boldly, "I saw Lucius Malfoy's name on this map not ten minutes ago."

"What?!" he asked incredulously. "That doesn't sound right. Let me have a look." Intrigued, he studied the map and muttered to himself, "Malfoy's in Azkaban, he's . . but how could he have gotten here?" Then looking up at Ginny, he asked, "Are you quite sure it didn't say 'Draco Malfoy' and you possibly misread it? I see he's just slipped out of the hallway and into Slytherin House. The map doesn't extend into any of the four houses."

"I'm positive, Professor Lupin. Mr. Malfoy and his son were together in one of the corridors not far from the Potions classroom. Lucius was pacing the floor around his son. If I'm not mistaken," she ventured, "he may well have been threatening him." The fear hit her once again. What had he suffered during his father's visit?

Suddenly, a lilting female voice called from the adjoining rooms, "Remus . . are you coming back to bed, you sexy, hairy beast? I can only stay a little while longer, you know."

"Give me another minute, dear," he replied toward the open door that lead to his office and behind that, his sleeping quarters.

Utterly mortified, Ginny could feel her face turning as red as her hair. Oh, Merlin -- he wasn't alone! I never thought that Tonks would be with him. Seems like she's here all the time anymore - ! Gritting her teeth and squinting her eyes, she apologized profusely, "Professor Lupin, I am so sorry to have interrupted your private time. We can discuss this later, of course. Please forgive me." Taking the map from his open hands, she bolted for the door.

He laughed and gave his student an understanding smile. "Wait, Ginny. At least let me give you a pass to keep you from getting a detention," he suggested kindly.

"All right." Grateful, she nodded and sighed nervously. She fidgeted all the while, thinking, Be quick about it! She grabbed the note hastily then murmured, "Thank you, sir. Good night." Then she darted out of the classroom.

Returning to his bedroom, Remus walked over to where Tonks was lying, sat down beside her, and kissed her temple. She asked, "Who was it?"

His face puzzled, he replied distantly, "Oh, Ginny Weasley. She just had a rather odd question." Tonks raised her eyebrows, to which he replied, "She said she saw Lucius Malfoy's name on the Marauder's Map."

Tonks snickered, "That old, unreliable piece of trash? Lying again, is it? Sirius once told me he charmed it to reveal the name of the actual person, but he made sure it didn't always work right. You know, sometimes it would, sometimes it wouldn't. He thought it would be a right good joke on you lot," she grinned.

Her fiancee looked at her and said seriously, "Well, he might have. But after a few close calls and a couple of detentions, I saw to that personally. It can't lie or be charmed to hide anyone; the name of a person is the real one, regardless of what guise he or she may take." He glanced away and muttered, "And that's what scares me."

He went to his fireplace, grabbed a handful of Floo Powder, and tossed it in, shouting, "Albus Dumbledore!"

~~~

Remus Lupin's concerns were justified. While Ginny sought desperately to reach her professor in time, Lucius Malfoy stood before his son. Only mildly surprised to see him, the boy responded to his arrival in an appropriate, even deferential, manner. "Father," he said, his voice far more serene than what he actually felt. "And to what dubious honor do I owe this visit?"

With bitter malice in his beautiful, cold eyes, the Malfoy patriarch snarled threateningly. His lip was twitching, his nostrils flaring ever so slightly, yet he spoke very calmly to his only child: "You know goddamn well why I'm here. Your behavior is out of control. Someone has to stop you. Your mother has been unsuccessful, so I am taking over, as of right now."

He was clearly in no mood to be toyed with. Draco did not know how to respond, or what his father expected, but he knew better than to remain totally silent. Doing so would risk the man's wrath -- which was known to really, really hurt. Instead he asked blithely, "And what behavior are you referring to?"

Lucius sighed as if he were at the end of his tether. After a moment of heavy silence, he laughed scathingly, "Merlin, you are thick! Sometimes I find it incredible that you are actually my child." More time elapsed; again, the boy said nothing. "What behavior, he asks? How shall I begin?"

He paused once more then enumerated his son's faults, one by one. "Your grades are abysmal. Still. You only win at Quidditch when your opponent is a thin, frail girl." At this remark, Draco's fingers started to draw into a fist, which was promptly released. "And I would imagine that you have no clue why Severus is training you in Occlumency." His son's eyes, which were so like his father's, drew wide. The man hissed in barely a whisper, "Let me say this once: I do not approve of these so-called 'lessons', and they will cease this instant."

Draco was stunned. How had Father known about that? And honestly, he wasn't sure what was he was so upset about. His grades were higher than they were last year. Slytherin was in first place, due in large part to his Quidditch victory, and he had finally mastered his first steps in the difficult art of Occlumency. So what was the problem again? he wondered but didn't dare ask.

His silence only served to aggravate Lucius further, and in a clipped, and slightly more threatening, tone, he clarified, "I will conduct your Occlumency training. It is something all Malfoy men learn from their fathers. Severus does not have the required skills to impart the knowledge you will need. You are to stop this foolishness of studying with him at once. If need be, I will have your mother send an owl to the Headmaster," he paused briefly for emphasis, "tonight. Will that be necessary?"

"No, sir," Draco murmured.

"Good." Lucius sneered then added coldly, "By the way, my boy, did you know that the Dark Lord's faith in Severus is . . how shall we say, hanging by a very thin thread? If he continues to displease him, it will snap. And Hogwarts will find itself one Potions Master short of a full teaching staff."

His son swallowed nervously and replied, "No, Father, I was unaware of that." He tried desperately to hide his fear and replace it with a distinctively Malfoy attribute that Lucius might recognize and perhaps even approve of: haughtiness.

But his disguise would falter with what his father would insist upon next.

"And as for your choice in -- female companionship," he drawled derisively, "I believe your mother made it clear that you are to end your association with that . . Weasley slut. Did she not specify that it was my express wish," he corrected himself, "no, my demand, that you stop seeing her? Normally, I could care less who you screw -- go screw Marcus Flint, if you like. But I do not give you permission to sleep with muggle-loving scum like her!"

Although Draco knew better than to argue, he couldn't keep himself from asking, "Why?" Lucius was clearly taken aback. He straightened himself up, lifting his head and eyeing his son with contempt, yet he remained silent as if he were considering something.

Seeing him raise an incredulous eyebrow, Draco cringed inwardly, wondering if his father would hex him so that it would be . . physically impossible . . . for him to make love to Ginny. He knew that Lucius had done that sort of thing in the past to the husband of one of his own lovers, a striking witch whom he had become extremely possessive of. Fortunately, the hex had been temporary.

In an attempt to save himself from a similar fate, he scoffed and lied callously, "It's only for fun, anyway. You think I actually care for a Weasley? She's just good in bed, that's all. Not to mention -- eager and very willing."

"I'm not talking about your bloody feelings," his father growled. "Or how 'good' she is. This goes far beyond any of that."

"Then what?" he asked rather indignantly, regretting the words the moment they escaped his lips.

Lucius sneered with disgust, "You stupid boy. How plain do I have to make this for you? If she were to become pregnant with your child--"

He gasped in disbelief, "Is that all? And you think we don't know how to prevent that?"

". . the repercussions would be unimaginable," the man said slowly, as if finishing his last thought.

Draco groaned internally; he wished this day would just fucking end. Besides, he wondered, how can I not be with Ginny? For him, it was out of the question, and he thought -- well, he hoped -- that it was for her as well.

What would Father do if . . . I refused?

He wondered distractedly how many more cracked ribs would he have to endure tonight and whether he would feel the sting of Cruciatus seep through his skin once more. Becoming more apprehensive, his breathing and heart rate seemed to increase exponentially, yet he was not willing to give in to the bastard. Feelings of powerlessness and frustration were making his head feel as though someone were pounding on it with a sledgehammer.

When his sullen expression became defiant, Lucius read its meaning at once. He was not accustomed to his word being ignored or disobeyed, least of all by his own child. His fingers twitched to reach for his wand, and he snarled, "You can't be serious. She is slovenly, low, poor -- in a word, beneath you. Have you already forgotten that that bitch and her friends put me in prison?!"

Serves you right for getting caught, you stupid bugger.

When Draco didn't respond straight away, he knew he would be punished. He'd all but said no -- everything but the word itself. Making the rather rash decision that the shock on his father's face would be well worth a few moments of excruciating pain, which he was sure to receive anyway, he said with a smirk, "Yes, Father, she is beneath me. But sometimes, she gets on top. Either way, she's a cunning stunt who really knows how to work me over."

The man was not amused in the least. His lips thinned even more, and he was seething with thinly-veiled anger. Trying to maintain an illusion of calm, he muttered, "You know perfectly well what I mean. She is not . . suitable for you. You are a Malfoy; you deserve a better class of woman. You will have better."

Draco thought angrily, It's so bloody unfair! Why do I get the world's two most mentally unbalanced parents? He thought of Ginny's mum and dad; they seemed to love and support her. Even if they disagreed with something she did, he couldn't see her backing down, not if she truly believed in it. Not my Ginny, he thought with pride. Then with a pang of jealousy, he reminded himself, Of course, her parents don't go about throwing Unforgivables whenever they feel like it, either.

He suddenly had a momentary lapse of reason, and he didn't care what his father thought just then. The pain was inevitable anyway. Attempting to call on an inner strength he didn't know he had, he did the unthinkable: He lashed out at Lucius Malfoy.

"Why are you and Mother suddenly so fucking interested about whom I choose to spend my time with? You never once gave a shit about me before, you bloody bastard! Never!"

The man's ire was seeping through his normally icy, calm mask; his son knew that he was furious. Lucius drew in a deep breath, and exhaling slowly, he uttered, "Of course, I care about you. That's why I'm here. Believe me, anything she could give you is nothing compared to the power you will have, if you will but reach out and grasp it. Be patient; you will have everything you want, any girl you desire."

Steeling his courage, he looked his father in the eye without flinching and said, "I already have, Father. And I want Ginny." He was far more nervous than he appeared to be.

Lucius struggled to preserve what remained of his composure. In a tone that did not reveal half the frustration he was feeling toward his son, he said, "Think, Draco. If she were to conceive the next . . Malfoy heir . . . I assure you, both of you would be killed before the child was ever born. And since I do -- care for you, very deeply, my son . . ." Grasping his wand, he raised it and said, "I am going to instill some reinforcement to ensure that that will never happen."

Draco awoke a bit later, feeling somewhat recovered from the intense pain that had racked his body earlier. He lifted himself up off the floor and looked around. Naturally, his father was gone. He breathed a sigh of relief then slunk back to his dorm room, falling asleep the second his exhausted, aching body hit the mattress.