Behind the Facade

"Join us." Came Draco's voice from the darkest corner of Ginny Weasley's room at the Burrow. Ginny woke with a start. "Join us," he repeated, "And The Dark Lord will be pleased." They had been going out for two years now, ever since Ginny had left Hogwarts, some would say ever since she had left Dumbledore's protection. Ginny had never let anyone know about their relationship. She didn't want to know what they would say. Well, she did know. "He doesn't care for you." And sometimes, she wondered about that herself. But she cared very deeply for Draco, and never wanted anything to hurt him, something that he constantly used in his favour.

"No."

She had always known that a little piece of Tom was left in her heart. The part left in her mind, she had worked hard throughout her second year to tame. She had succeeded, for a while at least. But now, the temptation to do evil would spring up in her occasionally. What worried her was that it was becoming more and more frequent with each passing day. This temptation came almost daily now, made worse by her relationship with a Death Eater. Which was why that 'no' had been extremely hard to say.

"Please, Ginny," said the slim man. "The-the Dark Lord will punish me, so much, so much pain..." his eyes became haunted.

Why me? Thought Ginny, not for the first time. Why does he want me? He can't be that desperate for purebloods that he's asking so much for a Weasley. Or maybe he's trying to kidnap me, to play on Harry's heroic personality again, just like in the fifth year...

Voldemort had been desperate to get at Harry while he was still a boy, then a teenager, and now a young man, convincing himself he would still be easy to beat before he came into his powers fully. It was getting harder to convince himself, and Voldemort, though immortal, still hadn't found out how to get younger. So, Voldemort was now in his seventies, and Harry was in his twenties. Ginny had known this from things Draco had inadvertently let slip. And she knew that Harry was desperate to meet Voldemort-he wanted an end to this as soon as possible whatever the outcome. He had told Ron and Hermione about the prophecy early in the sixth year, and then told the closest people to him after them in his seventh year. But she couldn't tell Harry that Voldemort wanted to engage him in battle too, as she wasn't supposed to know. And she didn't know, she had just taken an educated guess. She knew Hermione suspected Ginny had a secret, and knew more than she told, but that was Hermione. None of the rest of the Order suspected at all. And she couldn't tell Draco because she knew he would tilt the balance so it weighed in Voldemort's favour. It really was difficult. And now Draco said the Dark Lord wanted her to become a Death Eater.

And least of all she wanted Draco to get hurt.

She had known the whole time that this relationship would destroy her in some way, whether physically, emotionally or mentally, it would destroy her.

But she couldn't help it. She lo...liked Draco, certainly, but love? She wasn't so sure. But she cared deeply enough not to want anything to happen to him; so much that she would sacrifice her own life for him. But she hadn't taken leave of her senses. She didn't want anyone else who hadn't been given the power of choice to have to die.

"We'll see." She found herself saying, and knew that Tom had his first victory-of how many?-over her better self.

She's giving in.

Draco was willing to bet it wasn't entirely of her own will, though. His Master, even at the age of sixteen, at which point Draco was still having doubts about being a Death Eater, was so powerful as not to let prey go easily. He alone out of all the Death Eaters knew the extent of the Dark Lord's power-he had taken over the second-in-command after his father refused to murder his mother, and they both died-at the hands of Draco.

Patricide and matricide were powerful convincing agents for the Dark Lord. He accepted Draco into his inner circle. But Draco had a terrible secret from him. He would never, no matter what his punishment, kill Ginny Weasley, or anyone she cared for. That was his problem. He kept the depths of his affection for her even from her, afraid of the consequences. He had entertained the possibility of them running away together, away from Voldemort, away from the resistance group that Potter and Weasley had joined, away from all the problems. But then he came to his senses. The Dark Lord was far too powerful for that. He would find them, no matter where they lived. Even with Fidelius Charm. The Dark Lord had broken that charm with the Potters. Draco didn't know how; that was the one part the Dark Lord would never tell anyone about.

But Ginny Weasley was giving in. She would join them, and then she would never have to die. She would be a Death Eater, a great one, who never had to risk their lives unnecessarily. And his terrible secret need never be told.

Draco had, at one point, thought himself an empty emotionless hole. He felt nothing when he killed his parents. That had worried him slightly, until he realised that was to his advantage. The Dark Lord needed all the cold-blooded killers he could get. They weren't exactly common. That was until the day he'd gone to Diagon Alley (he was perfectly respectable on the surface, as his alter ego, Devereaux Bastien) and there he'd seen Virginia Weasley. At that point, he tried to avoid her spotting him and recognising him, as 'Draco Malfoy' was a well-known, feared and hated name. So he ducked into his coffee and used that to disguise his face, while getting his wand out of his pocket just in case. And she did spot him. As her face grew surprised, then angry, he pointed his wand at her under the table and whispered 'Silencio.' Her mouth opened, plainly going through the motions of yelling, then she realised what had happened. Her look of plain indignation that he had seen so many times on her brother's face was refreshing to him after such a long time of sombre faces and no emotions. And he fell in love with it.

He didn't know how he'd got away that day, but he did know he spent many hours teaching his eagle owl, Tom, how to recognise a Tracing Spell before attaching a letter to him and sending him off with it. He waited many long days, hoping Tom had reached her safely, hoping she wouldn't trace him back to where he was hiding, hoping she would reply. And she had. Oh, at first her letters had been full of hateful words, but he knew better. She would have traced it if she hated him. She didn't hate him. And these hateful words had soon turned into loving ones.

And now the Dark Lord wanted her (of all people) to become a Death Eater. He had many times wondered why, but decided the Dark Lord's designs were best kept to himself, and didn't ask.

And now she was giving in.