Saint-Seducing Gold

Chapter Nine: In the Air

"My life were better ended by their hate, than death prorogued wanting of thy love."

-----

For the next few days, Grahm took Draco's command to heart and did nothing whatsoever to sabotage the Gryffindor Quidditch team. He did, however, resent the fact that he so many of his ingenious plans had been put on hold, and spent every free moment he had terrorizing the rest of the school to make up for it.

On Wednesday, he charmed several dozen clapboard erasers to follow the Ravenclaws to all their classes and drum up clouds of dust every time one of them tried to speak. He bewitched the Hufflepuff's dinner table to float up to the ceiling every time food appeared on it, and none of the teachers could figure out how to bring it down again. And somehow he managed to frighten the Fat Lady away from her portrait so that none of the Gryffindors could get into their common room all day because none of the other portraits would volunteer to be her substitute (Sir Cadogan had already been denied the privilege).

Not being caught on Wednesday, Grahm continued his reign of terror into Thursday. Every door within the school had been enchanted to rain a torrent of water upon every student who wasn't a Slytherin. The teachers spent most of their day dealing with students complaining that their homework had been ruined by water, and that they needed some decent drying spells.

Friday morning however, the rain clouds had gone. The day ran smoothly until lunchtime, when Grahm was studying alone in the library. All too soon, he'd transfigured one of the tables into a green dragon and was conducting it in a mad rampage about the room. After wrecking the library, the dragon escaped into the halls where it menaced the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and shot silver flames at the Gryffindors. But Madam Pince had already caught Grahm in the act, and - once he had restored the library for her - she marched him up to the Headmaster's office where he got three weeks worth of detention and lost the Slytherins almost two hundred House points. The Slytherins weren't angry though; they made up for it in Potions where it transpired that even the basest amongst them could do no wrong, much to the other three House's outrage. Whatever the consequences, Grahm was highly satisfied with himself, and the Slytherins threw a party in his honor. Dumbledore did nothing to intervene in any of this, and the day of the Quidditch match dawned with many a student plotting their own personal revenge against the Slytherins.

Draco and Ginny spent Friday night alone in the unused classroom on the third floor. Ginny sat next to the window in silence, staring at the Quidditch pitch. Draco was trying to sketch her expression, but her pensive frown kept turning into a smile beneath his pencil. Finally, as he wasn't much of an artist anyway, he gave it up and crept to her side, entwining his arms around her waist as he leaned his cheek against her shoulder. Ginny turned and kissed the top of his head, before resuming her stare out the window.

"Do you want to talk?" he asked softly, aware that she was struggling with inner demons.

"About what?" she replied absently.

Draco puffed out a breath against the window, and watched the spread of condensation on the glass. "We could decide what to dress as for the Yule Ball. It's next week, you know."

Ginny smiled. "I'd almost forgotten," she said. Draco smiled because she was smiling, and wished more than anything that they could just go as themselves. It'd been naught but a week since Ginny had come to her senses, and the two were enjoying the kind of easy-going love that was hard for most people to find. It only furthered the idea in Draco's mind that they were soulmates.

"I know what you should go as," Ginny announced, breaking Draco's reverie. She laughed a bit and tapped his nose. "Remember what you told me that night on the roof? Before you kissed me?"

Draco didn't have to think about it too hard. That night was forever etched into his memory. "You think I should go as a vampire?" he asked her, incredulous.

She grinned up at him. "Why not? It would show everyone the 'real' you."

"The real me..." Draco wrinkled his forehead. "I don't know..."

"Oh, come on!" Ginny cried, escaping his embrace and standing up. "Let's give them what they least expect - a Draco Malfoy without illusion."

Draco sighed, leaning against the cold window. "But then you'd have to go as yourself."

She frowned.

"Because you'll be with me," Draco elaborated.

A radiant look blossomed upon the redhead's face. She blushed and turned away from him, trying to hide it. Draco smiled and stood up. "No, really," he said, gathering up his sketches. "What should I go as?"

Ginny seated herself on one of the empty desks, and considered Draco with a calculating gaze. He stopped what he was doing and struck a pose for her, making her laugh. "How about Prince Charming?" she giggled. "Don Juan? Eros?" He made a face and shook his head at each one, recognizing the names she had learned from her Muggle Studies class. "Romeo?" she offered finally.

"Romeo!" he exclaimed. "What? Would you dress me in tights, and commit me to an untimely death?" Ginny laughed all the harder at the indignation on his face, and nearly fell off the desk.

"You!" she gasped. "In tights!" She pressed her hands to her mouth in an attempt to control her mirth, and merely succeeding in making Draco quirk his eyebrows at her in confusion.

"What's wrong with tights? I'd probably look damn good in them," he told her confidently, promptly making Ginny lose all self-control and fall to the floor with the force of her laughter.

-----

Saturday dawned unusually warm for the time of year. As Draco stepped out onto the Quidditch pitch, he took note of the fact that most of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were wearing red and gold in blatant blazes of color. He spotted Grahm sitting in the stands, and silently cursed the boy's untrained genius. If only he'd used his brains to see what he had cost the Slytherins this morning...

Draco stopped, mid-thought, and took a more calculating view of his young cousin's actions. Yes, perhaps he had known. Perhaps he had done it to punish Draco for his lack of Slytherin manner these past days. Perhaps he thought Draco had become too weak to be the leader of their House anymore, and was challenging his authority. It was something that a Slytherin would do after all, and Draco had to admit that Grahm had never been one to have his intelligence overlooked by anyone, including someone who was not only family but friend as well.

He cast his eyes toward the Gryffindor team, just now exiting the locker room, and caught sight of Ginny's red hair as she followed Harry out onto the pitch. At least he knew going into it that the game was going to be hell. He touched his wrist guards, absentmindedly adjusting them, and led his team out to where Madam Hooch was waiting.

"All right," she said as Draco and Harry stepped together and shook hands. As both of them were new captains this year, Madam Hooch still felt the need to spell things out for them. "Play fairly," she said, glaring at each of them in turn. Draco sneered in order to keep up pretenses, and still felt a brimming of satisfaction when he threatened under his breath, "Feeling lucky, Potter?" and Harry's green eyes went flinty.

Draco turned back to his team with a smirk, ignoring the Gryffindor's muttered retort. Madam Hooch blew her whistle and the game began in earnest.

"Slytherin's in possession of the quaffle," the voice of Stewart Ackerly, the Ravenclaw boy in charge of providing the commentary at Quidditch matches, announced excitedly. And no wonder. Draco circled the pitch on his broomstick, eyeing Harry warily. This game was no doubt going to be one of the bloodiest games ever played at Hogwarts if the way students had been acting in the hallways lately was any indication of their feelings in the game.

As if thinking about it made it happen, a Gryffindor Beater sent a well-aimed Bludger at one of the Slytherin Chasers, and she only pulled away just in time. The Bludger screamed past her ear by mere millimeters. Draco cursed as his teammate swayed on her broom, and the Quaffle was taken by one of the Gryffindors.

Caught off guard by the excellent Gryffindor Chasers, Slytherin's Keeper let in the first goal of the game and the stands erupted with cheers. Draco touched his wrist guards again, and nudged his broom a little higher up. He eyed the crowd below him with wariness. A tension filled the air that reminded him of the atmosphere before a duel. Things were about to explode, and he didn't want to be distracted from looking for the Snitch. The sooner he ended this game, the better. Ginny was down there and if he saw her hurt, he wasn't sure what he would do. But he trusted that, whatever it was, he would be revealing their secret, and that was unimaginable when house hostilities were running this high.

"That's ten-zero, Gryffindor!" Ackerly declared as the stands let out a roar of approval. "Slytherin in possession... And the Quaffle is stolen by Ginny Weasley! She barrels down the pitch and passes to Dennis Creevy... And it's Weasley, Creevy, Weasley, Creevy...Goal! Gryffindor has scored again!"

Draco shut his ears to the noise below, and cast his eyes about in search of that bit of gold which would make it a fast game.

But Draco couldn't find the Snitch, and neither, it seemed, could Harry. They circled the pitch, occasionally shouting insults to each other, and dodging the Bludgers each team tried lobbing at them now and then. Below, the game was turning into a truly bloody fray. Penalty after penalty was called as Beaters struck at Keepers, and Chasers threw the Quaffle at the Beaters' heads. Madam Hooch's whistle pierced the noise of the crowd every few minutes. Ackerly was got edgy as the game wore on, reporting each new brutality with a shriller voice as he was shocked by the cruelty of his fellow students. Several Chasers had to be replaced by substitutes, and, more than once, Draco's teammates pleaded with him to call a timeout. But Draco only shook his head, not daring to take his eyes from his search for more than a minute.

Some three hours after the game began, a dark shape zoomed up beside Draco. It was Blaise, who was a Beater on the team, and he looked livid. Blood dripped down the side of his face from a blow he'd taken earlier, and his eyes were wild, the whites showing all around his dark irises.

"What is it?" Draco shouted, striving to be heard over the noise of the crowd below as Gryffindor scored a goal, making the score 230-220 in their favor.

"We can't keep going on like this!" Blaise shouted back, leaning forward over his broomstick and beating back a Bludger that was flying in their direction. "We've just lost our best Chaser! We need you to find that Snitch!"

"Well, thank you for pointing out the obvious," seethed Draco. "Get back into the game, Zabini. You're not doing any good up here."

Blaise's mouth curled into a sneer as he said, "Stop screwing around, Draco. Get Potter out of the game so we can win! You know they won't accept anything else." And he pointed down at the shrieking crowd of Slytherin green and silver who were cheering as the rest of the Slytherin team managed to topple the Gryffindor Keeper (one Phineas Casey by name) from his broom with a slough of illegal dung bombs. Madam Hooch went racing for them, her cheeks red from blowing so hard on her whistle, and a flustered group of teachers ran out onto the field to retrieve the fallen Keeper and take him to the hospital wing.

And then Draco saw the Snitch.

It was the first time in his life that he'd ever spotted the Snitch without Harry anywhere nearby. Ignoring Blaise's startled cry, he raced past him and went speeding for the glittery object hovering near the tail of Madam Hooch's broomstick. Halfway there, he heard a muffled oath behind him and saw Harry drawing close out of the corner of his eye. Hurtling through the air faster than he'd ever imagined he could ever fly, Draco stretched out an arm, his senses lost in the thrill of the chase. Everything had ceased to exist except for him and the Snitch. He was going to beat Harry Potter!

-----

"Now," the Ravenclaw whispered. "Do it now."

"But I--" The Hufflepuff hesitated.

"Remember everything he's put us through! Do it!" the Gryffindor urged, gritting teeth and staring at the form of Draco Malfoy as he tore through the air above them.

The Hufflepuff gave up with an agonized groan of resignation, and muttered the words of the spell, white light shooting from the tip of the stolen wand in his hands.

-----

Ginny watched in half-horror, half-admiration as Draco sped toward the Snitch. On the one hand, it looked like Gryffindor was about to lose the match, but on the other hand it was rare to see anyone but Harry fly as well as Draco flew now. Ginny closed her eyes, her heart rising in her throat.

Suddenly everyone sitting in the stands let out a scream of dismay. Ginny's eyes flew open in time to see the end of a flash of light that had enveloped Draco's body. She shrieked as the blonde tumbled from his broom and plummeted to the ground below. Harry, who had been close behind Draco, seemed to have gone temporarily blind. He veered off course, his broomstick obviously out of control.

"Come on, Ginny!" Dennis Creevy yelled at her as he sped off to help Harry.

But Ginny didn't hear him. Gripping her broom handle so hard that her knuckles turned white, she dove downwards, toward Earth. She hit the ground running, and struggled to get through the crowd of students and teachers pouring onto the Quidditch pitch. Just when she had reached the ring of people surrounding the spot where Draco had fallen, someone caught her by her uniform and she was yanked backwards. Scrambling to her feet, she looked up to find Hermione standing there.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, pulling Ginny away from the crowd. "You can't go to him now."

"But, Hermione!" She was almost in tears, trying to fight off Hermione's hand on her shoulder.

Hermione shushed her. She made a path through the anxious students who were on their tip-toes trying to see Draco, and hustled Ginny off the field and into the locker room. She let Ginny sink to her knees once they were safely hidden from view, and crouched beside her, watching the younger girl fight to keep from breaking down.

"Don't worry, Ginny," she tried to soothe her, patting her on the back. "I'm sure he's fine. The teachers saw him in time to break his fall."

"But the light," Ginny gasped. "What was that? Did it hurt him? Merlin, Hermione, I've got to see if he's all right!" She struggled to stand, and began crying harder when her knees shook so much that she couldn't. Images of her nightmare from the previous week were flooding her mind.

"Shh, be quiet!" Hermione said suddenly, staring at the door. "Someone's coming!" She helped Ginny to a bench, and they sat down just as the door opened to admit a wild-looking Ron and Gryffindor's other two Chasers, Dennis Creevy and Natalie McDonald.

Ron was breathing hard, but he looked triumphant. "We've won the game," he announced, "Harry held on long enough to catch the Snitch."

"Brilliant," Ginny said listlessly, wiping her eyes with the heels of her palms. Ron gave her an odd look.

"Are you okay, Ginny?" Natalie asked. "Harry's all right, if that's what you're worried about. And so is Phineas."

Ginny swiped a hand through the air to show that she wouldn't have cared if their Seeker and Keeper were both being instated as the new gods of Mount Olympus. Hermione grabbed that hand and gave Ginny a not-so-subtle glare.

Ron frowned and sat down next to the two girls. "Well, what are you crying about?"

Ginny yanked her hand away from Hermione and stood. "Nothing. I'm not crying. See?" She glared at Ron with red-rimmed eyes.

Ron drew back from his little sister's vehemence. "Okay..." he said slowly, standing as well. "I'm just gonna go check on Harry," he continued, edging out the door. Dennis quickly followed him, and Natalie retreated to the far side of the locker room to change out of her sweat-soaked Quidditch uniform. Ginny scrubbed her cheeks free of tears and then jammed her hands in her pockets.

"Sorry," she said, sighing. "I shouldn't have done that."

Hermione nodded, but smiled. "I'm sure he's fine," she whispered. "I'll go check if you like."

"Please?" Ginny said, eyes shining. "I need to change and..." She trailed off, staring at the locker room blankly.

"I'll be right back," Hermione promised. She patted Ginny on the shoulder, and slipped out the door. Ginny sighed again, and forced the image of Draco's bloodstained and lifeless body from her head. She slowly began to strip off her gloves.

-----

Draco awoke to the sounds of voices.

"...lucky whoever did this knew what they were doing! That spell is unstable at the best of times, and attempting it from the stands when the target is a moving object..." Draco could almost hear the head shake.

"It's well that we were already on the field when it happened or we might not have been able to save him," another voice added.

"Yes," someone agreed. "And well that no one died today when so much hatred was in the air."

Ah... He knew that last voice. It was Professor Dumbledore. Hearing that, he identified the others as Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout. Wondering if he was completely surrounded, he smiled when he heard Professor Snape intervene to coldly say, "It wouldn't have happened if we'd punished them from the beginning, Albus. You were the one who let this continue."

The shrill voice of Professor McGonagall retorted, "I didn't see you trying to help, Severus. Awarding fifty points to a student for taking out his book. You should be ashamed!"

Draco imagined Professor Snape's cool sneer as he replied, "Not half as ashamed as I'd be with students who try to sabotage a Seeker and can't even properly cover their tracks. Although they were smart enough to use someone else's wand..." he mused.

He heard an exasperated little sigh and then Professor Sprout saying, "It wasn't just a Gryffindor, Severus, but a Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff too. And you know very well that they only did it because of your student's violent behavior in school."

"Practical jokes," Professor Snape said.

"Violence," the Headmaster interjected. "And it won't be tolerated anymore. The three young collaborators will be denied the privilege of attending the Yule Ball. And anyone hereafter committing a crime against another House in this school is to be expelled. We can't have this at Hogwarts."

There were murmurs of general agreement all around, and then the door opened and Draco heard the sounds of footsteps going out. He opened his eyes fully and saw that he was in the hospital wing, tucked into a crisp white bed, and wearing a pair of striped pajamas that most definitely were not his. He moved to sit up, and winced with the pain it brought to his head.

"There now," the voice of Madam Pomfrey soothed as she bustled toward him with a tray. It was laden with what looked like dinner, and a goblet full to the brim with smoking silver liquid. "Eat your supper, and drink this, Mr. Malfoy. It will take the night for the remainder of the spell to wear off, but you'll be right as rain in the morning."

"What happened?" Draco asked her, his voice unnaturally scratchy. He frowned and touched his throat.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Your fellow students decided to resort to spells of violence, rather than see you win, Mr. Malfoy." She clucked and shook her head, smoothing his bed sheets and motioning for him to eat. "I don't know what's come over everybody, but I've had more students in here for hexes lately than I even know what to do with. They used a freezing spell against you," she told him, and smiled gently. "But it wasn't strong enough for its full effect, so you'll be all right very soon." She patted his shoulder, and left.

Staring in bemusement at her retreating form, Draco began to wonder what exactly had happened. The last thing he remembered was his fingers brushing the tiny golden wings of the Snitch. But Pomfrey said he'd had a freezing spell cast upon him...

"We lost?" he whispered to the emptiness of the room. Bitter disappointment flooded through him.

"Damn right, you lost," a voice said at his side. Draco jumped, nearly spilling the contents of the goblet, and moaned at the spasm of pain that blossomed behind his forehead.

Ginny shook off the Invisibility Cloak, and appeared with a frown of concern. "I'm sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

He waved her off, and summoned a smile for her. "It's okay," he said, still wincing. "I didn't expect you, is all."

"Mmm." She sat on the edge of the bed and stared at him for a long moment. He stared back, grateful to know that she hadn't been hurt in the game, and seemed only concerned for him, which meant that everything else was probably all right too. Finally, she said, "I think you were right."

"Huh?" He picked up the goblet and stared into its smoking depths. Was he really supposed to drink this foul substance?

"You would look good in tights."

He spluttered, and she laughed. Leaning forward to kiss his cheek, she gave him an affectionate look. "I'm glad you're all right, Draco. I was very worried."

"You were, were you?" he muttered, not looking at her, but eyeing the strange drink again.

Ginny nodded. "Hermione had to convince me that you weren't dead before I stopped trying to get to you. Think of the disaster I could have caused!" Her eyes lowered to his chest for a moment.

Draco echoed her nod. "Good thing you listen to Hermione," he said. Her eyes lifted to stare at him, as he swallowed his ominous feelings and drank the entire goblet in one gulp.

"Yes, it is good," Ginny agreed, still looking at him suspiciously.

"What?" he said when he'd stopped cringing with the taste of the awful drink.

"Are you angry with me or something?"

"No," he said evenly. "Did you hear what Professor Dumbledore said?"

"About students being expelled? Yes, I did." Ginny's eyes darkened. "And it's about time he did something about this useless fight between our Houses too. He should've done it a long time ago."

Draco leaned back into the pillows and shrugged. Ginny frowned at him. He raised an eyebrow, and her frown melted into a smile.

"Ah..." she said. "You're sore about losing, aren't you?"

Draco couldn't help exploding. "Who, me? Draco Malfoy who's never caught the Snitch in a game against Gryffindor yet, despite having played against them for six years of his life? Draco Malfoy, who's never won a game against the famous and good Harry Potter? Draco Malfoy, who can't win a Quidditch match because so many people hate him that they curse him before he can close his hand? You're bloody right I'm sore!"

"Shush," Ginny laughed. Draco grimaced at her, and was sorry for yelling. "It's your own fault so many people hate you. Look at me! I used to hate you. It's because you never let anyone in, Draco. They don't see you; all they see is an extension of your father."

He sighed. "I know. But that's why I have you, right? I'll wear tights if you want me to," he allowed.

"Draco!" She grinned. "I don't want you to. I still think you should be a vampire. Besides, I already have a costume all planned for myself."

"You do?" His curiosity was aroused. "What is it?"

"Uh uh." She shook her head. "You can't see it until next Friday."

He was about to make a clever retort to that, when another spasm of pain passed through him. Groaning, he pushed the dinner tray away and drew the blankets over his head. Ginny bit her lip, trying not to giggle at him.

"Okay, Draco. Sleep it off. I'll see you tomorrow." She kissed the top of his head through the sheet and swirled the Invisibility Cloak over her shoulders.

-----

"So. This is who has been stealing my cloak."

Ginny, who had just taken off the object in question, whirled around to find Harry standing by the fireplace. She was surprised to find him here; it was past eleven at night and she had only just returned from her visit to see Draco.

Blushing violently, she folded up the cloak and pressed it into his outstretched hands. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said. "I needed it for...Um..." She hesitated as there was no good lie she could think of to tell him.

He sighed as he stared at her. "If you needed it, why didn't you just ask if you could use it?" he inquired, green eyes sparkling in the light of the flames. "I wouldn't have said no, Ginny. Why didn't you ask?"

"I..." Ginny stared back at him. Obviously, she hadn't asked because of the questions it would raise; where was she going and why didn't she want to be seen? "I don't know, Harry. I'm sorry."

"Ginny..." He motioned for her to sit down. She did, and he sat next to her on the couch she'd chosen. "I wanted to talk to you about something. You see, lately I--" He hesitated, and Ginny was startled to see that he suddenly appeared nervous about something.

"We're good friends, right, Gin?" he asked her.

"The best of friends, Harry," she replied, wondering what this was all about.

"Well - and please don't hate me for this! - I think that maybe we could be more than friends. I..." He paused, the continued in a rush. "Do you want to go to the masquerade with me?" Not allowing time for her to reply, he went on. "We've spent so much time together lately that I feel as though we could have a lot of fun. And we don't have to call it a date if you don't want to, but could you, I mean, would you... please... go with me?" He broke off, and gazed at her hopefully.

"Harry, this is really... um... I am at a loss for words," she said at last. He looked bemused for a moment.

"Is that a 'yes'?"

Ginny's throat constricted. "I'm sorry, Harry. Any year but this and I would have been thrilled to go with you! The truth is that I'm in love with someone, and we're going to the ball together. I'm really sorry, Harry. You know you're like a brother to me. And I'll always be there if you need me, but..." She trailed off, her heart breaking for the look of loss on Harry's face. She knew exactly how he felt.

"No," he said, struggling to smile. "Don't be sorry. I'm glad you've found someone already. I can see he makes you happy."

Ginny gave him a sad look, and lowered her eyes. "You have no idea," she whispered.

"Do I know who he is?"

Ginny' head snapped up to find an expression of polite wonder on Harry's face. She hesitated, then said, "I can't say."

Looking bewildered, Harry tilted his head. "Okay, Ginny. If that's all you want to tell me, I guess that's fine." She nodded, hoping he wasn't going to try and guilt her into saying any more. Being true to his gentlemanly self, Harry did not pressure her. Instead, he took a deep breath and touched her hand. "But if you ever want to talk, I'm here to listen. You know that, right?"

"Right," she replied gratefully. "Thanks for understanding, Harry." She rose, and kissed his cheek. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he echoed, watching her leave. When she'd gone, he leaned back into the cushions of the sofa, and heaved a sigh. If only he'd been able to tell her just how very much he was in love with her. Every day since their return from summer break, Harry had tried to convince himself that his obsession with Ron's sister was just a stupid crush that would pass in time, but it had been nearly three months and, try as he might to look at other girls, he couldn't stop himself from returning to her. It seemed like every moment he spent in her presence only made him love her more. Every move, every word, was more endearing than the last. It'd nearly killed him to watch her fading away this past month, becoming only a shell of her former self. Then, within this past week, she'd come alive again. And he now knew what had been the cause of her deterioration and recent revival. It had been another boy; someone who Ginny was in love with, someone who made her happy, someone who Harry very much wanted to be.

Sinking into the sofa, Harry stared at the shadows of the fire dancing on the ceiling and wondered who it was.