Unbidden Desires

CHAPTER 23 - Turn the Page

"Yes, Ginny -- rather dodgy company, indeed," the other twin echoed. "Boys."

"And not just any boys."

"Slytherin boys," George whispered conspiratorially.

Fred made a face of mock surprise and brought his fingertips to his O-shaped mouth. "Oh, dear! What would Mum think?"

"Oooh, I know -- let's tell her," his brother suggested.

But the littlest Weasley was not amused by their banter. Her eyes flashing, she growled, "What do I care what Mum thinks? Or you, for that matter? These two have been very kind to me!"

George tutted, "Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. They're Slytherins. If they were kind, then they must have done it for their own gain."

"You're wrong!" she barked, poking a finger at his chest. "And I'll thank you very much to stay the hell out of what you don't understand!" She inhaled deeply to catch her breath after her rant. That was when she noticed a heavy smell emanating from one of the twins.

"Have either of you two been -- drinking?" She sniffed the air. Then she scoffed, "Gods, you absolutely reek of firewhiskey . . Ha! I think I have more to tell Mum than you do!"

"Well, we're not really drunk--" George countered.

Fred pointed his index finger in the air authoritatively and added, "No, not technically, anyway."

"Technically?" their sister drawled. "How can you be 'not-technically' drunk? You either are or you aren't."

Looking quite pleased with himself, George bragged recklessly, "We took a Sobering Potion. So most of the alcoholic effects are gone by now."

But Ginny was not appeased, and it showed on her face. The twins were starting to get a bit nervous, as she was starting to get that -- Molly look about her . . . She crossed her arms and made . . that face . . . the one that struck fear in both of their hearts.

She was beyond ticked off. And when she was in that mood, even the twins knew that she was not to be trifled with. Fred tried coaxing her. "Now, sis, we can work this out--"

Draco cut him off in mid-sentence and snarled, "Look here, you freaks of nature! I've just had the most horrible day of my entire life, and all I want to do is get back to the castle and see my mother. Now, are you two idiots here to escort us or just to harass your sister? 'Cause believe me, you don't want to mess with her -- not today."

Blaise, meanwhile, watched in silent admiration. He adored Marianne, and although he definitely missed her, he was so glad to be back in England, among wizards . . . back where things were just so ruddy normal.

Ginny came back, saying, "Draco's right. We've had the day from Hell! We did battle with Bellatrix LeStrange, then we got lost in the Floo network and ended up at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, where we faced off with Draco's father, who is now dead--"

"What?" George asked, snapping to attention.

"Lucius Malfoy's dead?" Fred gasped, as if he couldn't believe his ears, which along with his cheeks were turning a deep shade of scarlet.

Damn, Ginny chided herself. It had slipped out before she'd really thought about it, or how it would sound to someone who wasn't actually there. She gauged Draco's reaction, which was tepid at best.

"Yes," she sighed heavily. "Incredibly, Kreacher did it. But it was an accident."

The twins were stunned. For the first time Ginny could ever remember, they were both completely speechless. Finally, George muttered something that sounded strangely like, "Sorry, Malfoy."

"Yeah, sorry," Fred mumbled.

After a nervous pause, he cleared his throat and explained their presence. "Actually, er, we were just, you know, standing outside for some fresh air -- it helps the, uh, Sobering Potion. You guys . . just go on," he stammered as he waved his hand dismissively. Ginny shot them a final glance as the three of them moved along.

As they left the actual town, a carriage rolled up to meet them and take them back to the school. It was the same as the ones that took all Hogwarts students, other than first-years, up to the castle. Only this time, they could all see the thestrals; they were strange-looking creatures, and in the dark, they could almost pass for jet-black horses. That is, if a person ignored the wings and the strange gleam in their pure white eyes, not to mention the discomfiting way in which they sniffed vigorously at any blood they could find on the students.

"Geez, these thestrals are even creepier than I had imagined," Ginny remarked as she climbed inside. As soon as they were seated within, the carriage bolted away.

Draco, having put most of Hagrid's lessons out of his mind, wrinkled his brow in confusion. "You see them, too? I thought I was the only one. That maybe I was so bloody tired, I was hallucinating."

"No, we can all see them," Ginny said calmly.

"But . . why can we see them all of a sudden -- what's different now?"

Staring at the floor of the carriage, she whispered, "We've seen death."

The rest of the ride back to Hogwarts passed in silence. Time was a blur. Filch let the students in the gates then escorted them to the front doors. Once they were inside, he shooed them along and groused, "Now get yourselves straight up to the hospital wing. Dumbledore's orders." The caretaker hobbled away, jingling his keys and grumbling something about having to readjust the effing Floo system. His beloved Mrs. Norris padded along behind him and meowed softly, almost as if she'd understood him.

Knowing they were finally back in safe harbor and that nothing could hurt them, the boys heaved a collective sigh of relief. For Ginny, however, the tension that had been building inside her all day now threatened to implode and unravel her brave facade. Without warning, she began to sob. She flung herself at Draco, knocking him against the wall and not caring that she looked a fright, or that her hair and face were now tainted with remnants of his father's blood.

He kissed her lips fervently in response; when their lips finally broke contact, he laughed nervously as he gently stroked her cheek. Somehow, his feather-light touch calmed her, and she smiled as she too let go an awkward laugh. Both of them were amazed that they had all survived this evening relatively unscathed.

Suddenly, emotions hit him from all sides. They ranged from guilt and dutiful grief to sadness at losing his father so young, never really knowing the man he was. And now that he never would, he felt emptiness and outrage and frustration. He didn't know which feelings to latch on to, what to cling to . . . Which ones meant something, which ones were real.

He grabbed Ginny once more and held her close; as Blaise strolled up, Draco reached out with his right arm and pulled him in. They could both feel him shaking as he started to break down and cry.

His girlfriend looked up at him with questioning eyes but said nothing. She knew she would have to be strong for him. He had lost his father -- his world, for Merlin's sake; she knew he would speak when he was ready.

At length, he was.

"I-I don't know -- what to feel," he confessed halfheartedly. "All these conflicting emotions . . Hate, love, loss, relief . . wh-what do I do, Ginny? Which one's right?"

She simply answered, "They all are."

Releasing Blaise, he turned to Ginny and held her tightly in his arms. Stroking his hair, she cooed gently as she rocked him. When his tears had finally stopped, he sniffed then said, "I didn't want him to die. I -- never wanted him to die . . I only wanted him to love me."

Blaise rejoined their circle and patted his friend's shoulder assuredly. "He did, mate. In his own way, he did." Draco looked at his friend as the last few tears lingered in his eyes; he sometimes thought that Blaise Zabini was wise beyond his years. Knowing that his best friend was right, the blond nodded.

"Now let's go see your mum."

*****

Once they arrived at the hospital wing, Madame Pomfrey magically whisked them all into gowns and assigned each of them a bed. She swiftly began checking them and tending to their remaining injuries. The Healer soon enlisted the help of Ron, Harry, and Hermione, who were just standing there with their mouths agog.

Ron started to shout in protest, saying he would never help a Slytherin -- but before he could get a word out, Madam Pomfrey shoved a stack of warm, moist towels at him. "Able bodies needed!" she snapped as she forced a pitcher of cool water into Harry's hands. "Go on! You wanted to help them, now help!" she ordered.

When Neville Longbottom walked into the room a few minutes later carrying two half-full mortars -- charmed not to spill, of course -- of ground potion ingredients from the greenhouse, she took them away and recruited him as well.

All the while, Ginny was secretly amused at watching her brother sponge the sweat and grime off the face of his sworn enemy, who also happened to be her boyfriend. His freckled face was so red, she thought the poor fellow might burst a blood vessel. And seeing Harry Potter, the ultimate Gryffindor, fill water glasses for two Slytherins was simply priceless. She had to bite the inside of her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.

When a snicker eventually slipped out, Ron just glared at her. He saw nothing funny about this. Still, he wiped at the dried blood on her forehead gently with a towel.

"Ewww," she grimaced, "not with that one. It's filthy."

Frustrated, he sighed then slowly rose and ambled toward the vacant bed where he had left the fresh towels. They were lying there next to Ginny's enchanted diary. Studying the book intently, he sulked to himself, wondering, Whose side is she on, anyway? With his ability to foresee the future, not to mention that crystal-clear vision of Lucius Malfoy he'd had a few weeks ago, he was sure he had solid proof of Ginny's doom at the hands of this -- son of a Death Eater. What the hell was wrong with her?

It was obvious: she was going mental.

Ron touched the diary. He fingered its edges absently, recollecting what it was Bill had said earlier . . .

If you don't have the best of intentions for her, you can't even hold it. It would literally scorch the skin right off a Death Eater's fingers.

Of course -- that would prove his suspicions, and his divining abilities! He quickly hatched an ingenuous plan. He lifted the diary and spun around. Aiming squarely at Draco, he flung it across the room and shouted, "Here, Malfoy -- catch!"

His Seeker's hand went up reflexively and snatched the flying object from the air. Curious what it was he'd just caught, he examined its scarlet cover. "G, W," he read as he proceeded to flip it from one side to the other, studying it for any magical properties. "What is this, Ginny? Is it your diary?" he asked casually. As he tried to open it, he murmured, "Where are the juicy parts? Am I in them?"

Blushing profusely, she jumped up and snapped, "Give me that!"

"In a minute," he said, wearing a broad grin on his face.

Ginny took on a threatening tone. "Draco--"

Meanwhile, Hermione grinned and said quietly, "Ron, look, he's holding it. You know what that means?"

Annoyed that his plan had backfired, he groaned, "Yes, I know what it means. It means that Malfoy he has no ill will for Ginny."

She smirked at him. Crossing her arms and arching one eyebrow, she whispered, "I hate to say I told you so, but . . . I told you so."

*****

After Ginny had retrieved her diary and stowed it safely away, she and Draco told everybody what had happened: From the discovery of the Soul Window down to Kreacher's arrest, with Blaise adding his own parts to help fill in the gaps. They skirted around the details about Narcissa's curse and completely omitted what they had learned about the Malfoy twins. Her son felt that telling some things should be his mother's decision.

When he turned to face her, she looked more alert than she had in ages. "I'm so proud of you, Draco. I'm sorry things had to turn out like they did -- but as Miss Weasley said, if it had to be you or him . . naturally, I'm quite glad it was you."

He gave her a ghost of a smile. Then he stunned everyone in the room by asking her point-blank, "Did you ever love Father?"

"Of course; I would never marry someone I didn't love. It's just that as time went on, he became more enamored of You-Know-Who and his . . bizarre cult of followers, my oldest sister included. As he did, he got crazier, acted less sensibly, and took unnecessary risks. It really bothered me, and I-I just couldn't do that to my children. So I sought Poppy's help." She stopped and sighed.

"Your father and I had been married for quite a while, and I still hadn't become pregnant. He was beginning to wonder what was wrong with me. By the time he found out about my . . my self-induced miscarriages, he wanted to kill me. It was only my impeccable blood line that saved me. Still, he made it very clear that he would have a good number of heirs -- several little Malfoys that he could mold in his own fashion. To think just like him." She snarled through gritted teeth, "To be just like him.

"His weapon of choice was Magno Imperiatum -- a very strong, almost unbreakable variation of the Imperius curse. Maintaining it only required that we spend a little time together each week. And his going away to prison did nothing to waiver his determination. It was his wish that I visit him regularly, which I did. That made it very easy for him to reinforce the curse . . . to keep it going." She paused then said, "I never stood a chance."

"Excuse me, Mrs. Malfoy," Hermione interrupted cautiously, "but doesn't that curse also transfer to the offspring?"

"Yes, Miss Granger. It does, and the reinforcement visits not only helped secure my obedience, but Draco's as well. Over the past several months, however, my son began slipping away; he started to question his father's infallibility. I mean, after all, the man was in prison.

"Not long after my husband's incarceration, Draco became involved with you, Miss Weasley. This brought out some new emotions in him, some that were truly his own. Without Lucius nearby to stifle these new feelings and stop his behavior, Draco began to migrate outside of his father's control.

"Not that Lucius didn't try his best; I know that you had severe body pains and headaches, Draco." He nodded dumbly, and his mother continued. "It's a sign of this curse going awry. When the victim fights against it by stretching their own will, the curse will eventually attack, trying to strengthen itself by reminding him or her that disobedience means pain."

Draco scoffed, "Is that why Father started visiting me? To keep me under his control?"

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy, that was precisely his goal," stated Professor Dumbledore, who was just now striding into the room, his purple robes flowing freely behind him. He announced proudly, "Well, everyone, I have excellent news. Mr. Filch assures me that the Floo system has been fixed and the culprit found."

Hermione asked, "Who and what caused it, Professor? Was it Bad Floo Powder? Because I read about in a recent article in Modern Wizarding Transport that it has been on the rise--"

"No, not this time, Miss Granger. Although that was found as well -- in an apparently unrelated incident." Every eye in the room was on him.

"Kreacher had tampered with the Floo system. He manipulated it so that if Miss Weasley and Mr. Malfoy were to use any of the fireplaces together, they would be redirected to his beloved home, Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, to help Mrs. LeStrange complete her transformation.

"As for faulty Floo powder, it turns out that it had been scattered in various places throughout the school. It all traced back to a rather large stockpile of it in Adrian Pucey's trunk. It seems that Mr. Pucey's friends were using it to get into professor's offices to pilfer various O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. standards, controlled potion ingredients, and copies of tests."

"Copies of tests? Th-that's just terrible!" Hermione gasped, shocked at a crime so heinous. Ron rolled his eyes, causing Harry to snicker softly to himself. Draco and Blaise smirked openly in amusement. Professor Dumbledore, however, did not dismiss her concerns so lightly.

"Be that as it may, Miss Granger, you need not worry. The tests have been returned, the appropriate memories modified, and the Floo powder Banished. And Mr. Pucey, you will all be happy to know, will be in detention for the remainder of the fall term."

"The rest of the term?" Blaise asked. "But that's nearly three weeks!"

"Correct, Mr. Zabini. Oh, by the way, welcome back," he said in a kindly voice. "And we'll make that trip to see your grandmother tomorrow afternoon," he whispered as he leaned toward the dark-haired boy. He gave him a wink and a reassuring pat on the hand then turned to address the others.

"When Professor Snape and I questioned him a short while ago, he tried to implicate Michael Grant in the scam as well -- something about not wishing to have to study for O.W.L.s again. But when I explained to him that the boy was never actually a student here, that turned out to be a rather moot point," he remarked, the usual twinkle in his eye.

"Good night, all," the Headmaster said as he turned to leave. Draco exchanged a knowing glance with Ginny and called out. "Sir? May I ask what Pucey's punishment will be?"

"He will be rising every morning at 5 a.m. to help the house-elves clean all four house common rooms and then help cook breakfast in the kitchens. Without magic, naturally. It should be an eye-opening experience for him." His face broke into a satisfied smile. "Well, I shall see most of you tomorrow. Pleasant dreams, everyone."

The other visitors followed his lead, and soon, everyone but Madam Pomfrey and her four patients had left the Hospital Wing. Bill kissed Ginny on the cheek and promised his sister that he would notify Mum and Dad that she had been found and was fine. She smiled warmly at him then fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. Two minutes later, Blaise was asleep as well and could be heard snoring heavily.

Thinking he was the only one still awake, Draco groaned to himself, "Cor, I didn't miss that, Blaise."

Suddenly, his mother whispered from her nearby bed, "Is that you, Draco? Are you still awake?" When he didn't reply, she hissed urgently, "I have something important to ask you."

Utterly exhausted, he was fighting to stay awake as he mumbled, "Yes, Mother, what is it?" He hoped this wouldn't take very long.

"Did you father mention -- Helena and Hadrian?"

"Who?"

She fidgeted, her fingers twiddling the blanket nervously. "They were twins, born before you. They didn't make it." She sat upright and looked at him. "Did your father mention them?"

He sighed. "Yes, he did."

"I see." Wiping a single tear from her eye, she sniffed. "Did he blame me?"

"No."

"Oh." She paused. "Good night, son. We'll talk at breakfast, all right?" She paused again then added in a soft whisper, "I love you, Draco."

But he was already asleep.

*****

Thursday morning rose cold and far too early for Draco's liking. Damn, I only got five hours sleep. How will I make it through today's lessons--

He rubbed his eyes then looked about the room. When he did, he noticed two unusual things: a note addressed to him on his bedside table and the fact that he was the only one in the Hospital Wing. Ginny was gone, her bed neatly made and all signs that she had ever been there vanished. Blaise, too, had left without a trace, presumably anxious to get back into life at Hogwarts. Besides, he did have family to get in touch with.

Where's Mother? Draco wondered.

He sat up and rolled his shoulders and neck to work out the kinks that had settled there. The narrow, rather lumpy beds that Madam Pomfrey had to offer were not the most comfortable in the castle, but he didn't think he could have made it all the way down to the dungeons in the condition he was in late last night -- not that the Healer would have let him, anyway.

When he stepped into the loo, there was a fresh change of clothes waiting for him. He dressed slowly and unmussed his hair; when he emerged several minutes later, he saw that he had company. His mother and Madam Pomfrey were sitting together at a make-shift breakfast table, enjoying plates of eggs, bacon, toast, and jam. Between them was a large carafe of orange juice.

Hearing the door latch, Narcissa turned and greeted him cheerfully, "Good morning, love! We've had Dobby bring some breakfast up for us. Come sit down by me," she pleaded, patting the empty chair beside her. Since he was absolutely starving, he complied. And Hogwarts breakfast was normally quite good.

He didn't have much to say that morning, so he ate heartily as the two ladies chattered excitedly. It was clear they had missed one another dreadfully. Seeing his mother so very . . animated . . . was both surprising and refreshing.

After enjoying a delicious and filling meal, he sauntered back to his bedside table to read the still-unopened note. He checked the time once more. He would probably be late for his first class but shrugged indifferently. Across the room, Madam Pomfrey laughed jovially at something his mother had just said.

Thursday -- Transfiguration. Maybe this note is from the old hag herself; hopefully, she'll excuse me from her class this morning, provided Dumbledore told her what happened yesterday.

He unsealed the note. Surprisingly, it was from the Headmaster. The salutations weren't for Draco at all but his professors. It read:

My Dear Professors,

Please excuse Mr. Draco Malfoy from classes today, tomorrow, and all of next week. There has been a death in his family, and he will need time to go home and be with them for a few days. Then he and Miss Ginny Weasley will be traveling to New Zealand to receive honors for their part in rescuing Michael Grant and apprehending Bellatrix LeStrange. Professor Lupin and myself will accompany them. Mr. Malfoy will return to school on December 18th, just in time for Interhouse Cooperation Week.

If you would be so kind, please forward any homework assignments that are absolutely required of Mr. Malfoy to my office so that owl trips may be coordinated. Thank you for understanding.

Sincerely,

Albus Dumbledore

Of course, no homework assignments arrived for Draco, either at Malfoy Manor or in New Zealand. Considering what he'd been through already, none of his professors had the heart to do that to him, not even the Head of Gryffindor House.

*****

Ginny, too, had been excused from lessons for the day, and Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Neville were allowed to sit out their morning classes to recover from the previous night's ordeal.

Tonks arrived later that morning and visited with Ginny, Draco, and Blaise to record their statements of what had happened the night before at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Only Blaise had bothered to use his miniature pensieve. His mind had been so full of everything that he decided it was best to empty it out a bit. In the end, his testimony was the most helpful in the Ministry's case against Kreacher.

After her interview with Tonks in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, Ginny returned to Gryffindor Tower to find her brother and his girlfriend sitting hand in hand on a couch next to the fire. Harry and Neville were sitting on opposite sides in large, comfortable chairs. The four of them were having a right good joke about something.

"What's up?" Ginny asked casually. She plopped down next to Hermione and motioned for her to scoot a bit closer to Ron. Taking advantage of the situation, he put his arm around Hermione's shoulder, and she snuggled close to him; they looked at each other and grinned even more broadly.

"Nothing much," Harry answered Ginny and pointed at Ron. "We were just having him on for claiming that he's a diviner." The Boy Who Lived scoffed, "Some diviner, eh? Couldn't even 'see' that your sister's been dating your least favorite person? Except maybe Snape, that is." When Ginny visualized that, she opened her mouth, put a finger in, and made an awful gagging sound.

Hermione snickered then chimed in, "And that didn't even require you to call on your inner eye!" She croaked the last few words in her best imitation of Professor Trelawney. The others cackled madly, all except Ron, who turned a bit red.

"Hey," he said, getting a bit defensive, "I was only trying to help keep her safe. She is my only sister, you know. And I'm the only brother she has that's still here to watch her; it's a responsibility I take very seriously." The others grumbled softly, even Ginny.

Then Ron added, "Anyway, how do you explain that vision? You know, the one I had of Malfoy's dad?"

His sister sighed and shook her head. "That was no vision, Ron. Mr. Malfoy was using dark magic to visit the school as some sort of specter, to keep Draco in line. Every time he did, he brought a muggle back to Azkaban to give to the Dementor who had let him leave." She paused then said solemnly, "The rotten bastard was going to take me there last night -- but he didn't, thanks to Kreacher. And Draco."

"Urgh! Draco, Draco, Draco!" her brother groaned. "Will you shut up about that prat, already? And why do you keep defending that prick of a house-elf? He's nothing but a scheming, conniving little twit!"

She looked at him coolly. "I know. But it was that twit's loyalty to the Black family that destroyed Lucius Malfoy. Thanks to him, Draco's father will never torture another soul. And yes, Kreacher is still a twisted, rude jerk, but . . if it weren't for him and Draco -- I'd be worse than dead right now."

It was a rather sobering thought. The room was absolutely silent except for the random crackling of the fire.

"All right," her brother finally relented. "I'll give your 'boyfriend' a chance to prove himself. But if I so much as suspect that he's not doing right by you, or if he's learned any of our Quidditch moves -- or if I ever catch him spying on our practices again -- he's a dead man!"

She chuckled to herself then reached out and shook his hand. "Deal."

A few moments later, Hermione got an inquisitive look on her face. "Neville," she began, "I figured out that Draco and Ginny were seeing each other because of what he'd said in Advanced Potions. But how . . how did you know?"

"Pansy told me." Once again, the room was utterly silent.

"Pansy?" she laughed. "As in -- Parkinson? Since when do you and Pansy talk, other than for her to insult you?"

Neville shifted in his seat. "Sh-she's my friend. Ever since that day in Advanced Herbology when I told what had happened to Mum and Dad . . I don't know, I think she felt sorry for me. She said she'd had relatives who were tortured too, and we got to talking, and studying together and . . . Well, I can't rightly explain it, but we found that we really liked each other."

"You're not -- dating her?" Harry asked cautiously. "Are you?"

"Not really. But I'd like to, if I knew she wouldn't laugh at me for asking."

"Oooh," Ron teased as he waggled his eyebrows, "this is interesting. It's much more educational than going to actual classes."

Seeing an opening, Hermione jabbed at Neville and Ginny, "What you two won't do in the name of 'Interhouse Cooperation'. Honestly! Who would have ever thought of it? Gryffindors dating Slytherins. And not once, but twice!" She shook her head in disbelief.

Neville blushed furiously, attesting once more that he wasn't dating Pansy. Ron reached out and patted his shoulder, adding with a smirk, "Sure thing, Neville; whatever you say, mate." Ginny giggled at her brother.

Harry, meanwhile, was flabbergasted. As the laughter died down, he shrugged his shoulders and remarked, "Well, if it helps bring peace to the school and bury the hatchet between our two houses . . then maybe it's not such a bad thing."

*****

The trip to New Zealand came and went before they knew it. The countryside was beautiful, the weather was lovely, and Michael's family was only too happy to take their son's English friends on a lengthy tour to see the islands' best sites. Ginny, who had borrowed Colin's muggle camera, found the place absolutely breathtaking, and Draco was overwhelmed at the Grants' generosity.

The real Michael Grant turned out to be a very normal, very friendly young man. On their last day there, he and his brothers organized an impromptu Quidditch game for their guests, something Draco enjoyed immensely. With no house rivalry involved and the Grant brothers playing like a well-oiled machine, it was the most fun he'd ever had playing the game -- even if his own seeking skills were somewhat dwarfed by Michael's legendary ones.

Riding back to the international portkey station, Ginny remarked that it was sad that Professor Snape couldn't make the trip as well, "To receive his Order of Merlin, First Class, in person," she explained. Instead, the Headmaster had received it on his behalf in a private ceremony. He reminded her that it was all done for the Potions Master's safety.

"After all, Miss Weasley," he said, "Professor Snape does have his mission to consider." She nodded; she knew immediately what he meant, as did Lupin, who turned and gazed out the window of the Ministry car, the inside of which was larger than it appeared from the outside. Draco, however, furrowed his brow.

Before he could inquire about this 'mission' of Snape's, the old man gazed into the boy's silver eyes. He raised his hand, curved two long fingers, pointed them toward him, and quietly murmured an unintelligible spell. He smiled but said nothing more for the duration of the ride. Ginny suspected that this action somehow secured Snape's deepest secret by forbidding Draco to speak of or write about the great service his Head of House had performed for the Ministry of Magic by handing Draco's aunt to them.

On their return to Hogwarts on Sunday evening, the Head of Slytherin House was called into Professor Dumbledore's office. He positively beamed with pride when his employer presented the award to him in a small ceremony with only Order of the Phoenix members in attendance. It didn't matter that the world knew; they knew. The embittered man with the stringy, black hair and the hook nose nearly wept as his pale hands touched the precious medal he had coveted for so long.