Ginny Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone

Chapter Five - Babysitting, and Other Horrors

"MINE!"

"NO, MINE!"

"STUPID!"

"Draco, the brat called me stupid! She's not supposed to do that!"

"Sirius took my pig! Get me my pig!"

"BOTH OF YOU PLEASE BE QUIET! NOW!"

Draco's outburst had momentarily stunned Sirius and Elizabeth Potter into awed silence. They looked at each other and then Elizabeth grabbed the toy owl, which bore a remarkable resemblance to Ron and Hermione's ancient but still enthusiastic family post owl. Draco assumed that this resemblance explained Elizabeth's odd nickname for her toy.

"Draco! Elizabeth pushed me!

"You stole my pig!"

Draco didn't bother to give chase when Sirius took off after Elizabeth, who seemed to think that she could escape her brother in the kitchen. The thud of a three-year-old girl hitting a throw rug, followed by a high-pitched squeal and girlish laughter, indicated that Sirius had caught his sister and was tickling her.

Draco offered up a silent prayer that the two siblings would keep each other occupied for five minutes...just five minutes.

Fifteen seconds later, Draco realized it was probably harmful, somehow, to allow the youngest Potter to be tickled so long. However, before he could intervene, the laughter stopped, followed by Sirius's disgusted voice, "Oh, GROSS!"

Draco ran into the kitchen to see Sirius jumping up and down, shaking his arms. Drops of water flew onto Draco's face and robes. He glanced around to see the source of the latest mess, but could find nothing obviously destroyed or spilled - a state that made the kitchen look quite different from the rest of Ginny's house. Elizabeth, who looked at Draco with wide, innocent eyes, recognized his obvious puzzlement.

"Uh oh. I peed."

Elizabeth then started to tremble, her breath coming in hitches, before she gave up any pretense at self-control and started wailing at the top of her lungs.

Sirius attempted to explain by yelling over the sound of Elizabeth's cries.

"Elizabeth always pees all over the place!"

"I - DON'T - ALWAYS - PEE! I - DON'T!" Elizabeth's defense was long and drawn out, coming as it was in bursts interrupting her crying.

Draco closed his eyes and breathed deeply.

The scent of crushed, fresh grass, spilled alcohol and toddler pee all blended together. His perfectly tailored and extremely expensive robes could be cleaned, but he'd never be able to wear them again without remembering this day. The unusual combination of smells, combined with the sound of Sirius chastising his sister made it impossible for Draco to clear his head. He opened his eyes and attempted to take charge.

"Both of you, stop it. Sirius, go take a bath. Elizabeth, calm down, please, and let's change your clothes. It's ok, everything's going to be fine."

Draco said this with his best voice of authority. He spoke with the cold confidence of someone who was used to being obeyed, immediately, without question. After all, he was Draco Malfoy.

He was the heir of the Malfoy family name, and its impressive, although not always lawful, heritage.

He was one of the top Aurors of the Ministry of Magic.

He had been bred, born and trained to rule.

He was one of the most powerful wizards in the world.

He had survived several face-to-face adversarial encounters with Voldemort himself.

He was also totally ignored by the Potter children.

Sirius had climbed up onto the kitchen counter and was washing himself off in the sink. The fact that in the process he was also flooding the kitchen did not seem to concern him. Elizabeth had run off, leaving a trail behind her. Draco went in pursuit; it wasn't that difficult since the trail was quite visible indeed on Ginny's carpet.

"Elizabeth, please, come back, you're making a mess. I...have some candy for you."

The sound of breaking glass from the kitchen told Draco that Sirius must have knocked something off of the counter. Several somethings, judging by the different pitches and sheer duration of the shattering glass sounds.

"SIRIUS!"

"Sorry, Uncle Draco!"

Draco gave up any attempt at control. This, after all, was why Draco was much more proficient at Contraceptive Charms than at child rearing. He slouched into an especially comfy armchair, which murmured in his ear, "I was wondering when you would sit in me, handsome." The magical armchair started to arrange itself in such a way that his neck and shoulders were being massaged.

Draco tuned out the sounds of Sirius sweeping up glass. He fervently hoped that Sirius was using a cleaning broom to sweep with and not one of Harry's Quidditch brooms. He could faintly hear the sounds of Elizabeth holding a conversation with her dolls, which were doing their best to make baby noises.

Draco wondered how he had come to this.

He realized that he was lucky to have lived long enough to experience something as simple as children making a mess. His thoughts turned serious, as he closed his eyes and thought back to six years ago.

Draco was nervous. He knew his father did not approve of his girlfriend, and he had never, in all his twenty-four years, defied his father until now. Draco did not count the lack of the Dark Mark on his arm as a defiance of his father; it had been his father, after all, who had dismissed Draco's pleas to serve the Dark Lord.

"Ah, Draco, I had such hopes for you. The Dark Lord and I continue to be disappointed. The Mark is not lightly given; you must earn it. And, while you carry out simple tasks with borderline competence, the same could be said for any house elf. You have yet to distinguish yourself in any notable way. It is not enough to desire to serve the Dark Lord; one must have some value to him to be accepted. You have not shown any desire to impress anyone, least of all our Master. Sometimes I wonder if the Sorting Hat made a mistake when it didn't put you in Hufflepuff."

Draco flushed with anger. What did his father want? He did as he was told, but the few times he tried to take the initiative and strike a blow against the cause of Dumbledore and the Mudblood-lovers his plans were belittled for their amateurishness and he was mockingly told to leave adult matters to adults. The fact that he was eight years past the age of majority in the wizarding world seemed to be overlooked by his father.

He had no way of knowing that his ideas had been twisted, slightly, by his own father and then presented to Voldemort as if his they had originated with Lucius. Lucius knew there would come a day when he could no longer pass off his son's plans as his own; he was convinced, however, that there was softness, a sentimentality hidden within Draco that had not been driven out yet. His taste in women has proof of that. Lucius reasoned that until his son became harder it was foolish to let some of his ideas go to waste.

"Father...I will try...to do better. You said I could bring Jennifer to the Manor, I would not have done so if I had known you had wished otherwise." Draco, like his father, kept his voice down to avoid any chance that he would be heard by the young girl who was sitting quietly in the next room.

"Bringing her to the Manor is of no consequence. The mere fact that you are involved with her at all brings your loyalty, judgment and sincerity into question. I expected better."

Draco knew better than to protest. He turned away and went into the room to join Jennifer, followed by his father. Years of conditioning to hide his emotions kept him from showing his disgust as his father did his best to appear the gracious host to Jennifer DePorter. Jennifer, to her credit, behaved absolutely properly, never giving a sign that she saw through the charade.

Later, as Draco lay in bed with Jennifer, he idly twirled her hair, filled with confusion. Torn between hate and love, the desire to please his father and the desire to live his own life, he had taken his frustration out on Jennifer, as usual, who bore his caustic remarks with her usual reserve and dignity. Only a slight twitch by her left eye gave testimony to the pain she felt with every hurtful remark that came out of Draco's moth.

Now, spent, he forced himself to breathe in the scent of her hair, and tried to push his thoughts away and imagine a world where there was no war, no family - just this woman, and the feeling he had when he was with her.

"Well, Malfoy Manor isn't the depressing, dark chamber of horrors we all imagined in school. Unless you count your father. Your mother is kind of sweet." Draco smiled, and wondered just how his house had become a topic of speculation amongst a group of Hufflepuff girls. Jennifer's house affiliation had been the first cause of raised eyebrows by Lucius. Ravenclaws were acceptable mates to Slytherins in the eyes of the Malfoys, but Hufflepuffs were only fit for each other, and the occasional bottom-dwelling Gryffindor.

"My father...is a great man. I know it's difficult understanding that. But..great men have to be hard. They have to make tough decisions. And that makes it difficult...to be around them sometimes."

"That sounds like an excuse."

"I don't make excuses for my father." Draco's voice had turned cold. There was a time when Jennifer would have backed off upon hearing that tone. No longer.

She sat up, grabbed Draco's chin with her hand, and looked straight into his eyes.

"Bugger your father. Bugger his stupid war." Draco opened his mouth to protest, but stopped when she put a finger on his lips.

"Bugger anything that stands in the way of your happiness, Draco. I'm sorry, you feel some need to please your father, but I'm scared you'll never be able to make him happy. All I know is that in the time we've been together, I've learned much about you Draco. You're better than he is. That's not saying much -" at this, Draco looked like he was about to go into shock, "- but you are far, far better than you know. And, just the few times you've stopped worrying about pleasing everyone else, you've made me so happy I could burst. Damn you, Draco!" Jennifer had maintained a level tone throughout her lecture, but her voice had started trembling at the end. Now, she closed her eyes, tightly, and lines crossed her youthful face, before she opened her eyes again. A single tear ran down her face.

"Damn you. I'm falling in love with you Draco, and you are incapable of loving anyone back until you get over all this...this...bullshit in your life. Your father. Voldemort." At this, Draco flinched, but Jennifer continued, "He's just another man, Draco. Just another man who wants things. There's no need to avoid his name. He's not a god. He's just a man. And, the sooner you stop living under his shadow, and your father's, and God knows what else, the sooner you will be the man I know you can be."

"I don't know what you're going to become, Draco. But I know what you can be. I know you're too good for this. I don't know what I can do. I'm sorry, I shouldn't be saying all this, but I can't handle it anymore. Has anyone, ever, been honest with you just once in your whole life?"

She looked at him, and her combative expression could not mask the fact that she was scared she had pushed him too far, questioned things that shouldn't be questioned and challenged things that shouldn't be challenged. She knew that this was a crucial moment and that a door in Draco's soul was either going to crack open or slam shut. She waited to hear his response, to see what it would be.

"I...I...don't know what I want anymore. I'm just...tired. Just tired. I don't want to think about these things. All I know is that when I'm with you -" at this, his voice dropped almost to a whisper, "- sometimes, those things don't matter any more, and I'm just with you, and that's where I want to be."

Cracked open, slightly, she thought. Draco was refusing to meet her gaze now, and she wondered how someone could look both broken and relieved at the same time. She held him, gently stroking his hair, for quite a while before he stirred and made a tentative gesture towards her. She responded, gently, but Draco's usual expert, confident touches that were both stimulating and frustrating in their arrogance were missing. He was hesitant, gentle like he had never been before and it was a long time before they were finished. She didn't mind.

Later, he said very softly, "Do you think you could ever really love me? Could you ever really trust me?"

She couldn't quite tell him the truth. Love, yes, trust, not yet. He had so far to go. She was not blind to Draco's ability to take any attractive witch to bed with scarcely a thought. She had her own scars from his countless thoughtless remarks, his cruel taunts, and his never-ending mockery of everyone and everything that he seemed to think was beneath him. But she had made the choice to try to see him through to what she thought he could be, and it wouldn't do to shatter what little trust he had in her by saying she couldn't trust him.

"I'm only too aware of how certainly I could love you, Draco."

Draco smiled. On some level, he knew, objectively, how poorly he had treated this petite brown-haired witch who had somehow gone from being another conquest to becoming very important indeed. He couldn't figure how she had penetrated the defenses he had set up, long ago, against the pull of emotions that could distract from his pursuit of power, both magical and political. All he knew is that when he was with her, he felt a sense of rightness that he could not find anywhere else. Jennifer DePorter has certainly attractive enough, and clever as they came, but her family was of no real importance and she was a bit too sharp with her tongue to ever be pleasing to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius had not seen that side of her, but Draco knew it was there, and knew what his father's reaction would be. It was not helpful that her older brother was an Auror, and a particularly troubling one at that. He had even gone so far as to publicly disparage the Malfoy name, having been quoted in the Daily Prophet as saying, "Lucius Malfoy is living proof that good breeding and money alone can never be enough to buy decency, much less sophistication. He's just another petty thug, albeit a very powerful one."

Draco's musing was interrupted by a house elf cracking open the door, looking downward so as not to see Jennifer and Draco in their state of undress.

"Begging your pardon, sir, but Master Lucius requests your presence, and your lady friend, in the wine cellar."

They dressed quickly, and Jennifer gave him a quick but intense kiss before saying, "Remember, Draco, you're better than he is." Draco didn't respond, and he would curse himself for that later.

They went down many stairs, but just as he was about to enter the wine cellar, Draco saw that Perkins, one of his father's associates, was blocking the way. "Your father and his guest would like to see you and Ms. DePorter in the dungeon." Draco was a bit surprised; his father only allowed a select few to enter the dungeon. Draco didn't understand, since if truth be told the dungeon was rather boring.

Jennifer reached out and grabbed Draco's hand, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it. Draco felt a wave of shame that he didn't have the courage to hold Jennifer's hand in front of his father, and the fact that Jennifer knew and understood only pained him deeper.

Draco was quite horrified to see that his father was entertaining another guest.

"Draco Malfoy. I have been looking forward to this." Voldemort's voice, surprisingly high pitched, stunned Draco. He looked at his father, whose face was a mask.

"My Lord. How can I be of service?" Draco bowed his head low, and said the first thing he could think of. What do you say when a being of incredible power tells you that you he has been looking forward to meeting you?

"Be of service. Yes. That IS the question, is it not? There was a time...you were quite the rival to Harry Potter in your school days, were you not? You were positioned so well. I must confess, I am at a bit of a loss to come up with a direction for you now. But then, I forget my manners. And you forget yours. Draco, you haven't introduced me to your lovely companion."

"This is Jennifer DePorter. She's...with me." Draco stammered stupidly, not knowing how to describe his relationship with Jennifer. "Girlfriend" seemed like such a silly word.

"Miss DePorter. Of course, I know your family. And your brother. He and I, though we've never met, certainly don't see eye-to-eye on a good many subjects. I trust you don't share his views?"

"I try to keep out of politics. I just want Draco to be happy." Jennifer's flat statement was the first she had spoken since entering the dungeon.

"Politics? Such a trite way to describe the times we live in. It is an exciting time, you understand. Surely you wish to see the traditions of our world continue; surely you want to halt the co-mingling of blood between us and the Muggles. It is a time to take sides, if there ever was one, for what we do today will affect the world for hundreds of years to come."

"I don't care about the Muggles. They leave us alone, we leave them alone. Sounds pretty simple to me." Jennifer allowed a trace of anger to enter her voice. Draco felt his heart plummet. What was she saying? She was being almost insolent to the Dark Lord. He gave her a look with his eyes open wide, trying to tell her to tread carefully.

"There is nothing simple about the situation. We are in a war to change the world, and those who are indifferent to our cause may as well be our enemies." Voldemort's voice was becoming animated, and Jennifer began to be alarmed. For the first time, she noticed the two Death Eaters flanking Lucius in the dark shadows of the room.

"I certainly hope you don't think I'm your enemy. Like I said, I just want Draco to be happy. If serving you puts him on that path, then I am pleased."

Voldemort had mistaken the tone behind her words. Jennifer was trying to pacify him, but it had failed. "I tell you how I define my enemies, and you presume to tell me that you know that you're not my enemy, when I said quite clearly that I viewed the indifferent as being just as hostile to me as those who actively oppose me? Do you mock me, girl?"

Jennifer was confused. His words didn't seem to make sense to her. She looked at Draco, who just stood there, his eyes wide.

"No...I...you misunderstood."

"You tell me I misunderstand? Girl, you seem to have a lack of respect for your elders. Have you never been disciplined properly? CRUCIO!"

With that, Voldemort waved his wand and sent Jennifer crashing to the floor in a fetal position. He eyed her coldly, and watched her spasm as he flicked his wand back and forth and followed the contortions of her body. Each time he flicked the wand, Jennifer's body was jerked in a different direction.

Lucius stepped forward, and put his hand on Draco's arm. "It is time to find where your loyalties lie." Draco looked at his father with horror.

Voldemort released Jennifer from the spell, and watched in a detached way as she sprawled out on the floor, panting. Her eyes rolled up to Draco, met his, and in that moment, she knew she was going to die, and that Draco was not going to be able to save her. She knew that he was most likely going to die, too, but she realized that she had a chance to let Draco die with his soul intact.

Slowly, Jennifer crawled over to the wall and pulled herself upright. She looked at both Voldemort and Lucius and did her best to speak in a level voice. "Is there anything that you monsters touch, besides Draco, that doesn't turn to shit?" She spat out the expletive with surprising force.

Voldemort just smiled at her insult. "Oh, Miss DePorter, Draco is ours, and he always has been, and always will be. I think it is time for Draco to disabuse you of any notions you may have about his ultimate loyalties. Draco, please show Miss DePorter what we think of her lack of respect."

Draco stood, frozen. As the seconds ticked by, Lucius began to clench his jaw as rage filled him at Draco's inaction.

"Draco! OBEY YOUR MASTER!" Lucius barked at Draco, the anger in his voice not quite masking his fear that Voldemort would punish him for his son's disobedience.

Jennifer just looked at Draco and said, "Draco, you are so much better than this. And we're out of time. I love you, don't forget me." With that, she took her wand and faced Voldemort. "I don't suppose you have the courage to duel with me, do you?"

Voldemort looked shocked at Jennifer's insolence. "It is not a matter of courage. I only duel with my equals. And you, little girl, are hardly that. Perkins - Malmorto." With the last, the Death Eater who had showed them into the room screamed out the Malmorto curse and sent it square into Jennifer's back.

Unlike the Avada Kedavra curse, the Malmorto curse could be blocked and defended against, if the target was quick enough. Jennifer wasn't. Unlike Avada Kedavra, Malmorto did not kill quickly, but tortured its victim by having their internal organs start to shrivel inside their very bodies. It was slow, and exceptionally painful. Jennifer's screams filled the dungeon as Draco stepped forward and cast the countercurse on Jennifer, who lay on the ground with blood pouring from every orifice and her eyes rolling helplessly. She started whimpering as Draco was slammed with three different curses at once by the two Death Eaters and his father.

Draco reeled under the assault, but somehow managed to spin around and raised his arm to prepare to curse Voldemort.

"AVADA KE-" Draco's curse was cut short by Perkins who punched Draco in the stomach and grabbed his wand as Draco doubled over in pain. He then brought down his fist on the back of Draco's neck and sent him sprawling to the floor.

"Oh Draco, you are such a disappointment. I had such hopes for you. Don't kill him yet, we may have use for him. Perkins, Bellingham, amuse yourselves. Do what you like with the girl, but make sure she's dead by the end of the day. Keep Draco alive, for now, but make sure he understands the consequences of his actions. Lucius, with me."

Voldemort turned and left the room. Lucius followed, but before he left he looked at Draco, lying on the floor, and said, "I have no son. Sometimes I wonder if I ever did."

The next hours were filled with the screams of Jennifer and Draco. The two Death Eaters refused to use their magic on Draco, instead beating him with their fists and an assortment of blunt objects from around the dungeon. Draco tried many times to escape, but was beaten back by the sheer physical brutality of his two young tormentors.

Jennifer was not so fortunate. It appeared that Perkins and Bellingham were relatively new Death Eaters, and were not as well versed in curses as one would expect. They viewed it as great sport to practice on Jennifer. Draco wasn't quite sure when she finally died, but when her one remaining eye stared lifelessly at him as her head rolled loosely on her neck, he felt relief that her suffering was over. Perkins and Bellingham were sitting in the corner, drinking mead and laughing, as they watched Draco pull his broken body to Jennifer. They regarded him with amusement as he cradled her shattered body in his arms, rocking back and forth whispering endearments to her corpse that he had never quite been able to say in life.

Draco fought the waves of madness that threatened to sweep his mind. Somewhere, within himself, he swore that he would bring Voldemort down. He knew he had to get away and recover, and he knew that he would need allies. There was only person in all the world who could help him.

Draco tried his best to clear off all of the blood from a small part of Jennifer's forehead, and gently kissed it. He murmured softly as his finger closed her one remaining eye. "I'm so sorry. Please forgive me." He lowered her head gently to the floor, and looked down as he rolled his eyes up so that he could steal a glance at the two Death Eaters without them being aware he was watching them. The young fools were talking amongst themselves, Draco's wand sitting on the table between them.

Draco inhaled deeply, and with his last reserve of physical strength charged forward. He covered the ten feet to the table before they could react, and snatched his wand away before rolling himself into a ball and tumbling back away from the table. His two torturers ran towards him to try to stop him, but it was too late.

The last Draco saw of the dungeon was Jennifer lying on the floor. He gasped out a sob as he Apparated away to the Potter house, and the storm that was waiting to greet him.

Six years later, Draco sat in Ginny Potter's living room. The night he had first came here, and been slammed into the lakeshore by the anti-Apparition field, he had been brought inside by the Potters. He wouldn't speak about what happened in the dungeon, but there was no mistaking his obvious terror and his sincerity when he looked up into Harry Potter's untrusting face and said, "I need a mediwizard. And security while I recover. And after that, I'm yours to command, Potter. Just tell me what to do and I'll do it, no questions asked."

He never understood where Harry had summoned the trust from for him to leave the room, and leave his wife alone with Draco. He knew he never would have done it. He sat there, quietly, as Ginny Potter cleaned his wounds. He didn't know why or how he started telling Ginny about Jennifer, and the dungeon, and his father. He didn't know Ginny Potter, had never treated her with anything besides contempt before that night, but now he told her everything about what happened, and cried in her arms. He never saw the warning look Ginny gave Harry when he poked his head into the room after Draco had let loose a howl of pain, and the silent nod Harry gave Ginny before vanishing upstairs.

He had never spoken of what happened to Jennifer since, to anyone except Ginny. She had a gift for listening, and it was the first of many times he would be grateful to Harry Potter. He didn't know how Potter had known to leave him alone while he told Ginny of what happened, but he shuddered to think what would have happened to him if Harry had never left the room and allowed him to confide in Ginny. He most likely would have eventually gone mad.

"Uncle Draco...why are you crying?" Draco was startled to see Sirius sitting right in front of him. His wide eyes looked at Draco with compassion.

"I'm just thinking, Sirius. It's nothing to worry about."

"Are you thinking about my daddy? Mommy looks at pictures sometimes and cries, but she thinks I don't see her when she does it."

"Yes, Sirius, I was thinking about your daddy, and someone else, too."

"Oh. Ok. I miss my daddy. He was funny."

"I know, Sirius. I miss him too."

"Should I help you put Elizabeth to bed?" Draco smiled at Sirius's last remark. The little five-year-old was so adult sometimes, trying so hard to function as the little man of the house.

"Yeah, Sirius, that would be great. But you've got to help me find her."

"We'll never find her. She's really good at hiding, and she can fit into really small places. We've got to trick her." Sirius had a very serious expression on his face, and Draco suppressed his laughter and fixed his face in a serious expression.

"What do you suggest, Sirius?"

"We have to put her red doll to bed, and make a lot of noise doing it. She'll hear us and want to come help." Draco grinned and put a hand on Sirius's shoulder.

"That sounds like a great plan. What's the doll's name?"

"Emily."

With that, Draco and Sirius made a great show of talking to Emily loudly before taking the red-haired doll upstairs and tucking her into bed. They were on the second verse of a bedtime song when Elizabeth slipped quietly into the room; Draco was relieved to note that at some point she had changed out of her wet clothes and into fresh pajamas. He asked the little girl to keep her doll company and then turned out the light.

Helping Sirius get into bed, he said, "Sirius, I owe you one. I never would have been able to get her into bed that smoothly."

Sirius beamed. "It's easy, you know. You can never find her, so you just find what she wants and make her come to you. Works every time. Good night, Uncle Draco! I had fun today! I hope mom doesn't get too mad at you for wrecking the house!"

Draco did his best to look outraged. "I wrecked the house? Oh, no. Oh no no no. You're going to have to explain this to your mom. Night, Sirius." With that, he left the room and went back to the armchair, which cooed softly in his ear.

"You're so tense, let me work it out." The armchair began to work his neck, and Draco's mind started drifting.

It was a minute later when he sat bolt upright, realizing that a five year old child had given him the key to defeating Voldemort.