Omnividence

In the Bleak December

"Pain hurts, just as greed intoxicates and lust burns." - Neil Gaiman, American Gods

***

Draco returned to the Slytherin dorm in a reflective mood. He had seen Ginny safely on her way to Gryffindor tower, feeling calm and benevolent. When footsteps signalled the approach of another student, he'd hardly taken the trouble to snub Ginny. It really had been a most unusual evening.

He was not the sort of person to either enjoy or expect confiding in others, especially if it was about personal matters. Something was changing, though. He wasn't at all sure he liked it. So killing Potter is a bad idea, he thought sourly, So joining the Death Eaters is a bad idea... Just because I realize that, it doesn't mean I have to kiss Potter's arse. Or Dumbledore's. He shook his head. Whoa. Bad mental place.

As he hung up his cloak, he noticed a strand of long red hair clinging to it. He plucked it off and was about to drop it on the floor, but something made him pause. He shook his head again. Okay. Rethinking my options is one thing, but getting misty over a Weasley is another. He let the hair fall to the ground and ignored a small twinge as he did so.

All in all, it had not been a productive evening. The more he looked at his options, the more he realized he didn't have any. A knock at the window made him jump. It was his father's eagle owl. Blast. He threw the window open, took the letter from the owl's talons and sat on his bed, tearing open the envelope. The letter read:

Dear Draco,

I understand that you are planning to come home to us at Christmas, rather than attend the Yule Ball. This is, of course, your prerogative; although I must say that when I was your age, I would never have dreamed of missing it. But, you are, of course, always your own person.

I am also aware of a new student at your school; a girl from Durmstrang, which is quite unusual, and I confess myself highly curious. As she is a former student of Karkaroff (whom, as you know, I always disliked intensely, although I wouldn't think of holding it against the girl), I believe we ought to do our best to show her the charms of British wizards. You had also mentioned in your last letter that you were endeavoring to make her acquaintance, (if she is the reason you are not attending the Ball, then I apologize for broaching a painful subject. However, a mere girl is no excuse to shirk your responsibilities as a representative of the Malfoy family. I leave this up to your conscience.) I think it would be social if you invited her to dinner the day before Christmas. I would be very pleased to entertain her at the Three Broomsticks, as I understand that as always been the 'hang out' of Hogwarts students. It certainly was in my day.

If, as I surmise, she is the reason for you wishing to come home at Christmas, then again, forgive me for mentioning it. I must tell you, though, that there are ways to get around a woman's reticence. Certainly a Christmas gift, either to woo or to show willing to let bygones be bygones, would not be amiss. Let me know if I might suggest anything.

Do write back with your reply, soon. If I am to put entertainment plans into motion, then it is always better to have advance warning. Perhaps she would like to visit the Manor over the holidays? It is up to you, my son.

Sincerely,

Your father,

Lucius Malfoy

Draco read it three times. He and his father were on friendly and dimly affectionate terms, but when his father told him to do something, however friendly the language, he meant it seriously. In this case, he had to do several things: Go to the Yule Ball, introduce Aliset to his father and get her a Christmas gift.

Whatever his father's stated intentions were, undoubtedly he had his reasons for wanting Draco to do these things. As things now stood, none of these reasons would likely be in Draco's best interest.

"Oh, shit."

***

Three weeks later, Harry sat at his desk, crumpling up yet another piece of parchment. Why is this so difficult? He thought, scowling at his quill. Poetry is just words, right? Just a paragraph broken up into short lines, right? Wrong.

"Damn!" He flung his quill on the floor. "I don't even know what I'm feeling, so how can I put it to paper?"

"Um, Harry?" Ron said, hardly looking up from his comic book. "I hate to point this out, but speaking as your best friend, I think I ought to tell you: You're the worst writer to ever to drag his knuckles across the planet's surface."

A short shower of ink fell over Ron's bed.

"Agh! Harry! Look what you've done!" Ron held up his comic, now black and illegible. "I hadn't finished reading this one!" The characters in the comic were trying futilely to wipe the ink off themselves. Small speech-bubbles appeared above their heads, mostly filled with stars and spirals and thunderclouds, before becoming occluded with dripping ink.

"Maybe you should have thought of that before you started ragging on me," Harry said. He sighed and sprawled across his desk in despair. "You're right, though. I am a terrible writer. It's just... I really like Hermione, and I wanted to write something special for her for Christmas. Guess I'm going to have to go shopping after all." He made a face. "I hate shopping... especially for a girl. It was easier before, when we were just friends but now I have to find a gift that means something!"

"At least you have money for shopping," Ron muttered darkly, shaking his head, his ears flushing. "Anyway, maybe you should read some poetry before you try writing it. Your breadth of ignorance knows no bounds," he said at normal volume, trying a cleaning charm on his comic with no visible success.

"Ron, you're no better. I saw those poems you threw away," Harry said slyly.

Ron dropped his comic. "You what?"

Harry jumped up onto his chair, the better to declaim: "Aliset, my one and only, my love is deep and true. I'd walk across the world for you, and sail the oceans - " He was abruptly cut off as Ron brought him down with a flying tackle.

"Boys!" said the speech-bubble over the head of the scantily-clad comic book heroine.

***

It was the last day of class before the winter break and Ginny was hoping to get some last minute studying done so she could enjoy her Christmas, but it wasn't going very well. She peered covertly over the top of her book. He was still there. She had been sitting in the library for more than forty minutes, trying to finish her Potions paper before she forgot about it in the Christmas hols, but her thoughts kept wandering off to the next table. Draco had been sitting there for close to half an hour, and she could swear he hadn't turned a page in his book the whole time. Apparently she wasn't the only one distracted by something.

She was fidgeting in her seat, wondering if last night meant she could go over and talk to him without getting her head snicked off, when he looked straight at her.

***

"Bugger." Aliset dug through her bag for the sixth time. Where was that paper that Ron gave her? She could have sworn it was in here! "Hugin? Did you see the Divination notes that Ron took down for me?"

"Why?" Hugin was sitting at the end of the Ravenclaw table, preening his feathers. "You have so many bits of parchment in that sack of yours, it could be the original manuscript for Hogwarts: A History and you'd never find it." He brought his head around to look at her properly. "What was so important about them? You're not even taking Divination."

"My sight isn't working properly. Ron asked Professor Trelawney about things that could block seeing and took down some things he thought might be helpful. I haven't had a chance to look at them... and now I can't find them!" Aliset threw down her bag in disgust.

"Oh that," Hugin said.

"What do you mean that?" Aliset stuck her hands on her hips and glowered at him. "You mean the notes or my problem? And what do you know about it? Harry suggested that you and Munin are blocking me on purpose. I've been meaning to ask you, but I hardly see you anymore. Which brings up yet another question: What are you and your brother up to these days?"

Hugin looked shifty. "Well, which do you want first? Are Munin and I blocking you? Yes, yes we are. This is your first chance to be a normal, well, mostly normal, girl and a nice school and we thought you were having some problems, what with bumping into non-existent students and all... so we tuned you down to what we thought would be a manageable level."

"Thanks," Aliset said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And when exactly were you going to tell me this? After I ended up in St. Mungo's from going insane? I thought I was losing my mind!"

Hugin muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'how would you notice', but all he said aloud was, "We forgot."

"Huh. I'm sure. Now, how come I never see the two of you anymore?" Aliset was still annoyed, but mostly relieved that the answer to what had been troubling her was so simple.

"We're relaxing."

"Relaxing?" She smirked. "You find torturing the owls relaxing?"

"Well, yeah, doesn't everyone? But that's not what I meant. We've been looking after you night and day for two years. We could do with the breather. Not to mention that we're trying to train Potter, which isn't very relaxing at all, come to think of it." Hugin sighed. "Feel better?"

"Actually, I do," Aliset admitted. "I'm not going crazy, I like it here and the only thing that would make it better is if you had told me weeks ago instead of just now!" she shouted.

The bell rang, and Aliset started stuffing her scattered belongings back into her pack. "The two of you would give me grey hair, if it wasn't already," she said as she left for class.

"Glad we can be of use," Hugin replied absently. As soon as she was out of sight, he pulled the crumpled Divination notes from under his wing and dropped them in the rubbish as he flew from the hall.

***

Draco found himself staring into Ginny's eyes. He had seen her go into the library a little while ago, not really thinking anything of it, until he wandered in there himself after ten minutes of idly roaming the corridors. He quickly bent his head back to the pages of his book, an account of the second Goblin War. Why am I reading this? he wondered, but half shrugged and started reading: "...And Grindelwald the Uncivil spake unto the hordes: We shall really stick it to them this time, boys. We'll go through this city like prunes through a short grandmo-"

A shadow fell across the page. Draco looked up and found himself staring into Ginny's eyes at a considerably shorter distance. Her arms were folded across her breasts and her mouth was set in a straight line. She seemed to be waiting for something.

"Do you mind?" Draco said, coolly. "I'm trying to read." Thank goodness the Malfoy genes didn't tend toward blushing. I can't believe this, he thought with disgust. Spend an evening chatting with a girl and they never let it go. That he'd been wracking his brain for an excuse to talk with her, he chose to ignore.

"What I mind is that I'm trying to finish my Potions assignment and you've been staring at me the last thirty minutes," Ginny said quietly. "Is there a problem?" Her tone was equally cool.

Draco felt a trace of admiration for her poise, as well as gratitude that she wasn't speaking at a volume that carried. Although, he noticed uneasily, the other students in the library were beginning to look at them curiously. Uh oh, Malfoy's don't tend toward civility, either.

"Look," he said, brusquely. "I'm just reading about..." He quickly glanced at the cover. "Grindelwald and you come barging over here." He lowered his voice. "The lake. Lunch." He paused. "Please."

She spun on her heel and walked away, every inch of her body proclaiming outrage to the world. Satisfied that everything was normal, the rest of the students returned to studying. But Draco felt something inside him ease a little, because he had seen her slight nod before she left.

***

Ron and Aliset were sitting by the lake. Ron had conjured a small fire to keep them warm, as a light dusting of snow covered the ground. "I'm glad that it's all sorted out," he said.

"Me too," Aliset replied. She had told Ron about her conversation with Hugin. "Honestly, I'm glad that they're trying to help, but I was so worried..." She broke off as she felt Ron's arm tighten across her shoulders. "What?"

"That bastard..." he growled, his voice full of menace.

Aliset followed his gaze to where, on the opposite side of the lake, Ginny and Draco were also sitting together by a fire.

"Wait, Ron!" she said urgently. But it was too late. Ron was already striding towards his little sister.

***

Ginny read the letter from Draco's father. "I don't understand. What's the problem?" She looked at the paper, creased and battered from being in Draco's pocket. "How many times have you read this?"

"Give it back," Draco sighed, and pulled the parchment from her grasp. "My father wants to see Aliset in person. Ostensibly because she's a former student of Karkaroff, presumably neck-deep in the Dark Arts and he enjoys cultivating potential allies. However, my father undoubtedly has ulteriour motives, since he never has anything else. Given that all of his motivations boil down, in the end, to Voldemort and given what we now know, this is almost certainly not in Aliset's best interest. And, also given what we know, this is probably not in my best interest either." He flourished the letter in front of her. "Now do you understand?"

"Oh," Ginny frowned. She stared into the middle distance for awhile before she finally spoke. "Do you care about anything besides yourself? I mean, I'm glad that you're not joining the Death-Eaters, but beyond what could happen to you, do you really care what Voldemort could do?" She looked at Draco, "You keep talking to me, which you wouldn't have done three weeks ago. Nice, as far as it goes. But how far does it go? If you hadn't seen the future, would you even care if my whole family got wiped out by You-Know-Who?"

Draco's face contorted with fury, and for a moment Ginny was truly frightened.

"Weasley," he spat.

Hurt and confused, Ginny stood and started to go, which was when she saw her brother Ron bearing down on them like a Viking berserker.

***

I'mgoingtokillhimI'mgoingtokillhim. That was all Ron could think. That Malfoy, whose reputation was becoming legend at even Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, was trying to... to... with Ginny was too much. I'm going to beat him to death. I'm going to strangle him.

***

Draco was thinking much the same thing. It was one thing to be spending time with Ginny who, despite the deficiencies in her background and upbringing, was actually pleasant company. But just because one Weasley wasn't entirely repulsive, didn't mean that the rest of them weren't utterly useless parasites on the Wizarding world. And nothing short of radical surgery would make him like her brother. Especially since he had a knack for turning up at exactly the wrong time. Like this century, Draco thought caustically.

So it was to the surprise of both Draco and Ron when Ginny moved defensively to Draco's side.

***

Ron halted, suddenly confused. "Ginny? What's going on?" He glanced at Malfoy, who had opened his mouth. "I'm not talking to you. Yet."

"Nothings going on," Ginny said, quite calmly. "I'm talking with Draco, that's all."

"Draco? You're actually on a first-name basis with this - with this - " Ron sputtered.

Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I'll wait while you find something simple in your vocabulary," he said, his stance precisely calculated to annoy.

"Shut up!" said both Weasleys simultaneously.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, but he said nothing, to Ron's relief.

"I don't think this is any of your business," Ginny said, not angry, but very definite. "Whatever you think is going on is not my problem."

"Fine," Ron said shortly. He turned to Malfoy. "Then I'll tell you this. Stay the hell away from my little sister or I'll kill you."

Malfoy curled his lips into the ugliest sneer Ron had ever seen. "I give you points for brevity, if not originality. But, as your sister so eloquently pointed out, this is none of your business." Malfoy stalked forward and Ron was slightly disturbed to find that the Slytherin was actually a little bit taller than him. "And as for killing me, Weasley... Not on your best day. Potter I can respect, much as I despise him. He has charisma. Grandeur. You only have delusions of."

"Draco?" Ginny moved between them. "Shut up right now, or I'll make you regret it." She fixed him with a pointed stare, reminding him in a glance that he'd just been showing her family correspondence. Seething silently, he backed up, so she could stand in front of her brother.

"I'm fifteen, Ron, not a little girl. I'm also a prefect, which means that at least someone thinks I'm half-way intelligent. If I find I need your help, I'll ask for it. In the meantime, I don't go barging after you and Harry, demanding to know what you're up to. Extend the same courtesy to me." She cocked one eyebrow, a gesture inherited from their mother.

"Fine," Ron said again, his voice strangled. "For now. But you're making a mistake trusting him. He'll turn on you in heartbeat, if he ever thinks it'll benefit him."

He turned away and started walking back towards Aliset who, thank goodness, hadn't witnessed him being humiliated by his little sister in front of Malfoy. He entirely missed the expression on Malfoy's face at his parting comment.

It was only later he realized that Ginny had said 'you and Harry', not 'you and Aliset'. On the one hand, it was a relief. Unless she had a really skewed perception of his and Harry's friendship, that meant there was nothing romantic going on. On the other hand, that implied that she and Malfoy were actually friends, which was horrifying. Not to mention Ron had spent about half his friendship with Harry in mortal peril. Ron's stomach lurched. Now he was terrified.

***

Harry was reclining against the arm of the sofa, one foot hanging over the opposite end and the other resting on the floor. Hermione was sitting between his legs, leaning back against him. Together they were reading over Hermione's notes, which Harry had agreed to only on the condition that they did no more studying until the end of winter break.

"Finished?" Hermione asked.

"Mm hmm," Harry murmured, and she turned to the next page. He brushed a stray wisp of her hair out of his face and tried to concentrate on reading over her shoulder. Such nice shoulders they were, too. Delicate collarbones... long, graceful neck... and her hair smelled wonderful...

"Finished with this one?" she asked again.

"Huh? Oh, sorry. Mind wandered," Harry said apologetically. "Give me a minute." He scanned the page quickly. Boring. Formulas, incantations; Harry was having a hard time paying attention and they were all blurring together in his mind.

"Harry," Hermione said, a little impatiently. "You know... Oh, never mind. I don't really want to study any more either." She let the pages of parchment sift through her fingers to the floor, as she rolled over to cuddle against his chest.

Harry thought maybe his heart stopped. He hardly dared breathe.

Since their first kiss, Harry and Hermione hadn't gone any farther. In fact, there hadn't really been a second kiss. Vaguely ashamed of the way he had pounced on her that night, Harry didn't want to... well, he did, but he wasn't sure she did. So they spent a lot of time holding hands and cuddling, but that was it. Which meant that Harry spent a lot of time thinking about kissing her and not doing anything about it.

"Hogsmeade weekend tomorrow," Hermione said. "Last one before Christmas."

"Good," Harry replied. "I have some last minute shopping to do. All of it, actually. Speaking of which, what do you want for Christmas?"

"Oh, Harry," she said again, this time in quite a different tone. She kissed his nose playfully.

When she drew back, just far enough to look into his eyes, Harry did stop breathing.

Hermione leaned forward again, slowly, and brushed her lips against his. Harry closed his eyes and let his breath out with a sigh. He tightened his arms around her, kissed her cheek softly, and raised her chin a little so he could kiss her mouth...

The door flew open with a bang and they sprang apart guiltily.

It was only Ginny. She strode passed them without a glance, ignoring them and her brother who came rushing through the door behind her.

"Gin! Ginny! Look, just stop, will you?" Ron grabbed the edge of her cloak and used it to spin her around to face him. "Give me one good reason, one, why I shouldn't owl mum right now and tell her what you're up to."

"Didn't we have this discussion earlier?" Ginny said through clenched teeth. "This is none of your business. It's none of mum's business either, and in any case, there isn't a damn thing you can do about it, is there?"

"Hey! What's going on?" Harry jumped off the couch. Hermione sat up very straight, watching them. "It seems like the two of you have done nothing but fight with each other all term. What is it about this time?"

"Ginny's taken up with Malfoy. She doesn't see anything wrong with it, either," Ron hissed.

Hermione and Harry exchanged looks of shock.

Ginny's hands clenched into fists. "I have not 'taken up' with Draco!" she shrieked.

"See?" Ron said, pointing an accusing finger at his sister. "Here she is on a first-name basis with the most evil bastard in the school!"

"He is not an evil bastard," Ginny shouted. "He's a boy! He's not very nice and I'm not sure I like him much, but I think he's trying to change. And I'm trying to help him, is that so wrong?" She snatched her cloak from her brother's hands and fled up the stairs to the girls' dormitory. The slam of the door upstairs made dust sift down from the common room's ceiling.

Ron just stood there, his hands empty, and stared bleakly at the path his sister had taken. After a moment, he turned to his best friends.

"Hermione?" he said softly, and they were shocked to hear how close he was to tears. "Can you talk to her? Please talk to her... She won't listen to me. I just don't want her to get hurt." He didn't wait for a response, but staggered off in the direction of the boys' bathroom. A few seconds later, they heard water running.

Hermione and Harry wore identical expressions of extreme worry.

"I'll go and see how Ginny is," Hermione said, finally. She glanced towards the bathroom and back to Harry. He nodded soberly in answer to the unspoken question, then went after Ron.

Between the three friends, silent and accusing, was the memory of Tom Riddle.

***

The walls in the Slytherin dungeon were unpleasantly damp in the winter, and the year-round gloom was barely relieved by the fireplace on one wall and the high stained-glass window that was the only source of natural light. During the day, the window let a shaft of sickly green sunlight down from above ground; at night, it was next to invisible. Sometimes, Draco found himself envying the other students for their more comfortable accommodations, but that was usually only after too much butterbeer.

Draco paced restlessly back and forth across the common room. 'He'll betray you in a heartbeat...' Draco made a point of not listening to Ron Weasley, but those words had hung in his mind all afternoon.

Furious with himself, and uneasy for reasons he couldn't put a name to, he shook his head to dispel the echo. Ridiculous, that's what it was. He wasn't putting Ginny into danger, so how could he betray her? That was just ridiculous...'Do you care about anything besides yourself?' Ginny had asked.

What a stupid question, Draco thought savagely.

In fact, this whole thing was stupid. Why on earth had he turned to a Weasley for help?

Because no Slytherin would ever help you, said a traitorous thought.

Hah! Exactly. Traitor. Why would any Slytherin help him betray his family, his heritage... his master? Why should he worry about betraying some stupid Gryffindor, a Weasley, when she was trying to get him to turn against everything the Malfoy's had ever stood for? Stupid, stupid, stupid. This whole thing was a stupid, ghastly mistake. All of this self-doubt just because another stupid girl clocked him in the head. What was Ginny to him that he should care?

She stood by you, whispered that wretched voice inside him. She stood against her own family. She didn't betray you.

"Who cares?" he roared. He lashed out with his foot and kicked over the table by the wall. It teetered and the lamp on it fell, hitting the ground with a satisfying crash.

Something hard in the pocket of his cloak swung back and thumped him painfully in the ribs. He pulled it out. Why was he carrying a stone in his pocket? Oh. He remembered. When he was on the Quidditch pitch with Ginny, he'd picked it up...

"NO!" He hurled it through the window. The glass shattered, the Slytherin serpent exploding into a thousand emerald shards. The December wind blasted through the broken panes and brought him back to his senses.

A few Slytherins poked their heads out. Seeing him, the broken window and the expression on his face, they all retreated back into their rooms.

He stood there for a long moment, the wind blowing through his hair and flinging his cloak out behind him. His jaw was clenched, his skin ice-white and his eyes bitterly cold. If he had but known it, he looked as though he had just stepped from on of the portraits in the family gallery. He smirked.

His hand reached into his pocket again and drew out the letter from his father. Now, what was it he had to do?

***

Harry cautiously pushed open the door to the bathroom.

Ron was sitting on the tiled floor, his back against the wall. His face was wet, but so were his hair and his hands. Apparently, he'd thrown water on his face to try to calm down. A drop of water ran down his cheek and fell into his lap.

Harry sat down beside him. For a few minutes, neither of them said anything.

"I feel sick," Ron said at last. "That's how worried I am. I don't care what Ginny thinks. The only way Malfoy would ever have a change of heart is with a transplant. I'm not about to let another," he choked slightly, "Slytherin bastard mess with my sister."

Harry nodded grimly. "I feel the same way."

"Yeah?" Ron looked at him. "I thought you came in here to talk sense into me?"

"Why? You're already talking sense. Ginny has no business hanging out with Malfoy." Harry let his head fall back against the wall. "Ginny's not my sister, but I feel like her brother. I mean, your whole family is like - "

"You're a part of it," Ron said, nudging Harry with his foot. "You'd have to be daft not to know that."

Harry's cheeks went faintly pink, but he went on. "So, if Ginny won't listen and we can't make her listen, let's see if we can convince Malfoy to leave her alone," he said.

"'Convince' as in 'beat him until he agrees'?" Ron said. "Yeah, OK."

"Shall we, then?" Harry stood up and held out his hand to Ron.

Ron took it and heaved himself to his feet. "Yes, let's."

***

"Go away."

"Ginny!" Hermione found herself shouting through the key hole. This is absurd, she thought. "Alohamora!" The door opened and Hermione saw Ginny sitting on her bed, writing furiously in her diary. "Ginny?"

"What part of 'go away' do you need explained to you?" Ginny said coldly.

"You know," said Hermione. "I was going to try being supportive, try to be understanding, instead of automatically taking your brother's part." She leaned against the door frame and crossed her arms over chest. "But if hanging around Malfoy means you start sounding like Malfoy, then I'm forced to agree with Ron that it's a bad idea. One Malfoy is bad enough."

"Ron thinks one of him is one too many," Ginny snapped.

"So you want to prove him right?" Hermione asked. She came and sat at the end of Ginny's bed. "Can you tell me what this is about? Start of term, you couldn't stand Malfoy any more than the rest of us. What changed?"

"He did," Ginny replied. "But it's not really my place to say why. I'm not doing anything wrong. If Draco wants to confide in me, then I'm not helping him by blabbing about it to everyone." She looked up from her diary, letting it fall closed, one finger marking the page. "Am I?"

"I can understand that," Hermione said slowly. "But, can you promise me one thing?" She laid her hand on Ginny's knee and kept it there despite her look of annoyance. "Two things, actually." She looked imploringly at the youngest Weasley.

"What?"

Hermione took a deep breath. "Be careful?"

Ginny nodded.

Hermione let the breath out again. "Good. The other thing... If you need someone to talk to," her gaze fell to the diary involuntarily, "will you please talk to me?"

Ginny actually smiled. "Yeah."

Hermione came around the bed and hugged her. "I trust you and I trust your judgment. Now I'll go try talking to Ron." She started towards the door, stopped and looked back. "You know he loves you? He really cares about you."

Ginny nodded again, looking much younger than she had in the last few minutes.

Toying with the door handle, unable to look at Ginny properly, Hermione said, "He never really forgave himself for what happened to you your first year - "

"I know," Ginny said. "I know. It wasn't his fault, or yours, or Harry's. It was Lucius Malfoy's fault." She grimaced. "Not really helpful under the circumstances, is it?"

"Not really, no," Hermione agreed. "But if you can forgive at least one Malfoy, then I guess the rest of us can try." She opened the door. "I better go," she said wryly. "Got to keep your brother from killing the first decent Malfoy." She winked. "Probably against the law. Endangered animals."

Ginny laughed and waved her away. When the door closed, she went back to her diary.

***

Aliset was finishing her present for Ron. She didn't have any money, but she had made him a card and clipped a lock of her hair and was tying it with a bit of ribbon. A 'love lock', her mother had called it, and had worn a curl of her husband's hair in a locket next to her heart. It was a sign of trust in the wizarding world. Some very old and powerful magic could be performed on someone with a strand of their hair. Or even nail clippings, which Aliset thought was kind of gross and not at all romantic. But hadn't she read somewhere that even Muggles used to give one another a lock of their hair as a sign of love and friendship?

A flash of premonition made her pause. Something to do with Ron, something bad. She ground her teeth in frustration. A few weeks ago, she would have known exactly what was going on; now, it was little more than a hunch. The feeling grew more urgent. He was about to do it now.

She dropped the half-tied ribbon on her dressing table and ran out of the Ravenclaw entrance, hoping she got there in time.

***

Her feet seemed to know just where to carry her. As she tore down the corridor to the Slytherin room, she saw Harry and Ron turn the corner at the far end. "Ron!" she cried and rushed to him.

He caught her in his arms, then stepped back so he could see her face. "What? What's wrong? Did something happen?"

She was having trouble getting the words out, she was breathing so hard. "You're about to make a terrible mistake. Whatever it is, don't do it."

Ron shook his head. "It's OK. Really. Harry and I are just going to have a serious chat with Malfoy about him spending all this time with Ginny." He smiled. "I promise there'll be hardly any blood at all."

"Please don't, Ron," Aliset whispered miserably. Why won't he believe me?

Crouching a little so their eyes were on the same level, Ron looked at her very seriously. "Look, we both know that your sight hasn't been working properly for weeks. You're probably just picking up on the fact that I'm meant to be studying my brains out, or owling my grandmother to wish her happy Christmas. OK?" He gave her a gentle hug. "Don't worry about it. Go back to sleep."

He strode off down the hall, leaving her confused and unhappy.

Aliset stood there, stunned. He didn't believe me. Her throat felt tight. I ran all the way down here just to warn him, but he still didn't believe me. It's not my sight gone wrong.

She turned wildly to Harry. He gave her a look of profound pity, then went after Ron. She watched them until they disappeared into the darkness.

***

Still in shock, she went back to the Ravenclaw tower. Moving like a sleepwalker, she opened the window and sat on the sill, staring unseeing across the night. She didn't feel the cold or the wind that howled through the window.

Behind her, the card blew off the desk. Silver strands, cobweb-fine, scattered across the floor and were lost.

***

God, my head feels clear for the first time in weeks, Draco thought, stretching out on his bed. It's just embarrassing that I actually believed all that rubbish.

There was a knock on the window. His father's owl had a package for him. He unwound the string tying it to the bird's leg, scratched the owl's head in a slightly bemused way, and walked slowly back to the bed. It was quite a small package and there was a note attached.

Dear Draco, it read, Enclosed is a gift for our new friend. Please see that she wears it to Hogsmeade tomorrow. - Father

"My, he does love to be mysterious, doesn't he?" Draco said lightly, opening the package. There was a black velvet box.

Inside was a simple necklace. It wasn't gold, or even silver. Bronze, maybe? Draco wondered. Odd. It had a sort of ugly pendant, a greyish stone without the slightest hint of lustre. Why any girl would want to sling this around her neck, I'm sure I don't know. Hm. I can't tell her that I picked it out, I should hope she knows I have better taste than this. The necklace looked handmade. That's it. I'll tell her it's an antique. Worn by an Egyptian lady who died peacefully in her sleep. If it were an antique, a valuable antique, it could look like shrunken monkey heads chained together and nobody would question it.

He went to put it back in the box and paused. His father was really very sneaky. So Aliset was an utterly useless bint and if the Dark Lord wanted to cart her away, it was probably for the best. On the other hand, he didn't want her dropping dead in any obvious fashion that would implicate him. Or, so he told himself.

Draco took out his wand. "Admonammi," he whispered. Nothing happened. The necklace was as prosaic as a loaf of bread. Not so much as curse to make the clasp break while the wearer was standing over a street grating. What a relief. He put the necklace back in its box and went to sleep.

***

"Ron?" Harry said softly. "Wait up a sec."

"Don't tell me you're having doubts," Ron said. "I think we can handle Malfoy between the two of us. Don't let Aliset trouble you."

"That's just it, she is," Harry said, his voice a little odd.

Ron stopped walking and peered through the darkness to try and make out Harry's expression. "Why? Because of the premonition? Because if that's it - "

"It's not," Harry said quietly. "It's because of the way she looked when you didn't believe her."

Ron felt a sudden, creeping cold in the pit of his stomach. "What did she look like?"

"Heartbroken," Harry admitted. "You don't think - "

"I just made a terrible mistake, didn't I?" said Ron, sounding ill.