*******************************************************
Chapter 22: In Victory Field
It was a dark place, damp and desolate. As if the elements themselves understood that this was a place devoid of any happiness, a shroud of fog always seemed to hang about, blocking any sunlight that may enter, and keeping a bleak chill in the air. It was a dark place, and it was eternally lonely.
She wasn’t the only person there; she could hear the low and solemn voices of others, stretched out over the immense area, but she could not see anyone – the dreary fog made certain of that. In the isolated corner of the yard where she stood, a giant black oak tree stood, separating this corner from the rest, isolating it from the rest of the monuments.
Ginny crouched down low, before the tombstone, running her fingers over the engraved letters set in the cold stone. She looked away; unable to face the guilt of so many years ago. A guilt that was made worse by the fact that she had almost forgotten about her yearly vigil at his grave sight – she had been distracted, too caught up in her musings about Draco and whatever it was that was happening between the two of them.
She had been unable to forget, for the longest time. The nightmares, the panic attacks, the constant fear were all ways constantly reminded her of that night, six years ago, which kept the guilt eating away at her at all hours of the day. For the longest time, she allowed herself work and tried to cast off the shadow that plagued her through her success. And it had worked. As long as work was her entire life, as long as everything she had was thrown into achieving her goals, the guilt and the nightmares had dimmed, falling away from the forefront of her everyday life. As long as she froze everyone out, she didn’t have to feel it.
But now…not only had she allowed someone close, but she had forgotten. Her solitary day spent in vigil, paying her respects to his grave – to his memory and what it meant to her life – the only way she acknowledged what had happened, and she had forgotten about it.
With trembling fingers, she again traced the name etched in stone, and struggled to shut out the images that had been haunting her nightmares out of her mind, forcing herself to freeze out the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her.
* * * * *
Fighting back the reluctant urge to shiver as he navigated through the overgrown paths of the cemetery, Draco Malfoy scanned the misty landscape for the brightness of Ginny’s red hair. Clarice had not been very clear about exactly whose grave Ginny visited each year, but she had given him some idea of how to find it, in the immense field he currently found himself in.
He’d heard about this particular grave yard before – there wasn’t anyone who had lived through Voldemort’s second reign of terror who didn’t know at least one person who had ended up there. But he’d never been there, hadn’t been able to bring himself to see the kind of carnage that had befallen the wizarding world. He never thought that it would be so large – that the Victory Field Cemetery would contain so many stone tombstones.
As he passed by the rows, reading the names etched forever in stone, he felt a strange twinge in his stomach every time he saw a name that he recognized – Marcus Flint, Dean Thomas, Millicent Bulstrode, Lee Jordan, Vincent Crabbe, Severus Snape. They had all died in those turbulent days; no matter what “side” they chose, they were all commemorated in this spot. As he paused in front of his former Potions Master’s tombstone, for the first time he felt regret over his inaction.
He hadn’t chosen a side; he had escaped to Bulgaria, citing the family duty as reasons for his inactivity. His father, disappointed that his son was not following in his footsteps, but satisfied in his reasons, had encouraged the rumor that Draco had been killed mysteriously, figuring that if the time ever came when his son was needed to help in his cause, the possibility of the element of surprise was appealing.
He looked away from the gravestone, almost in shame. He had vowed he would never bow before mangled and deformed creature that had the nerve to call himself the Dark Lord, but he had never done anything to prevent his rise to power, either. Until the day came when his own father – mentor, role model and guide – had chosen his allegiance to Dark over his vow as a Malfoy, and had betrayed his family in the most terrible way. That was the day that Draco had been forced to take action. The day that Lucius Malfoy had died.
Shaking off the grip of that memory from his mind, he swiftly turned away, and continued up the path, searching again for Ginny. His aunt had related the abrupt way that Ginny had left that morning, describing the stricken look on her face, and the panic that she was trying to keep hidden. Upon hearing this, Draco had immediately felt compelled to find her – her nightmare still fresh on his mind. The way she had been completely debilitated – victimized – by whatever nightmare was haunting her had sparked in him a compulsion to protect her, to erase the memory of whatever it was that terrified her so, to keep it away any way that he could.
That was probably the reason he had brought her to middle of the labyrinth, he figured. It was the one placed where his past did not haunt him, the magic of the unicorns (which was becoming increasingly weaker) would protect her from any harm. Their acceptance of anyone into their field was very rare, but they seemed to sense her need for their magic the same way that fateful unicorn had in the first Malfoy. They wanted to help save her.
But from what? The blasted voice in his head asked. This was a question that he had been playing around in his mind since that day he had walked into her office. He wondered about the reason the layers of ice had built up, about her crusade to end the use of all Dark Magic, about the reasons she refused to acknowledge the power she had and to use it. The mystery about her was what had initially drawn him in; but now, it was merely frustrating. He need his answers, he needed to understand her.
In the far corner of the field, nearly hidden by the ancient oak tree looming ominously overhead, he caught side of a small figure, crouched in the snow. Recognizing the bright hair, such a shock of color in the desolateness of the cemetery, he walked over. He stood behind her in silence, watching her as she stared straight ahead of her, at the name etched in the stone, and the mystery about her suddenly all fell into place.
The name of the grave read Neville Longbottom.
* * * * *
She heard his footsteps crunching in the snow behind her, but didn’t turn around. She could feel his gaze on the back of her neck, and knew instantly whom it was that stood behind her. She didn’t need to turn around; it figured that the only person that would come to his grave on this day was the one person in the world she did not want to see at the moment. He remained silent, and his lack of words weighed more heavily on her than even his presence. She decided to break it.
“Harry, Ron and Hermione used to come with me every year. But they eventually forgot about it. Everyone forgets,” she said softly, biting back a shiver as the chilly wind picked up and tossed her hair about her face.
“But you can’t,” he commented, taking a step closer, standing beside her.
“I won’t. I almost did, this morning you know. And it was a good feeling, to wake up feeling warm and safe the way that I did and to think about what the day might hold. But when I realized that I had forgotten about it, it was a terrible feeling, because I shouldn’t forget, not about him. Not today.”
“Forgetting, no. But maybe it is time to let go?” he asked, his voice low and soft. At that she turned to face him, pulling away violently from his as he tried to put his hand on her shoulder.
“Six years ago today, he saved my life. He died so that I could live. That is not something that you can just let go! What do you know about it?” she demanded, her eyes blazing and wild. He said nothing but just stared at her with his cloaked gray eyes. They seemed to be probing her, searching for an answer. She turned away quickly, and sighed before she crouched low to the ground again.
“So many people called it a war. But it wasn’t a war. Those are supposed to have some kind of glorious end, something to justify the waste that comes along with it. But there was no glory here, because nothing could ever justify the waste.
“It was silly, really. I can’t even remember why we were there. I think Harry had some feeling about an attack on the Order of the Phoenix, and Neville and I tagged along, unwilling to be left out. We wanted to help, so we followed along. I practically had to hex Ron into letting me come, but we managed to convince him. When we got to Sirius’ house – the headquarters for the Order – everything was dark and quiet. Eerie. We were so certain that we were too late, and we were afraid that the worst had happened.
“But then we heard the laughter. His laugh is very distinctive, you know. Once you hear it, once you know that the feeling of cold ice stabbing into your stomach is actually someone’s laughter, you can never forget it. Tom Riddle may have changed when he became Lord Voldemort, but his laugh didn’t.
“I don’t know what we were thinking, five children racing into a full-fledged wizards fight, but that’s exactly what we did. One minute we were in the main hallway, the next thing I knew, I was crouched behind chair, trying to avoid the curses being thrown at me. Harry, Ron and Hermione had all run ahead, leaving us behind.
“Bellatrix Lestrange was right in front of me, she didn’t know that I was there yet. I remembered what she had done to Harry’s godfather, about all the terrible things she had done to so many people, and the chance was right in front of me. I was about to stupefy her, when suddenly Neville was yelling at me to turn around, that there was someone behind me.
“Before I could do anything, I saw him run towards me, and I saw her turn around. His wand was pointed at something behind me, I saw the spell shoot out of it, and I heard the person behind me fall to the ground, bumping into my knees. I tripped, and my wand snapped when I fell. Bellatrix Lestrange had turned around when she heard him, and had finally noticed me. She aimed a curse at me, and Neville, seeing her, jumped between the two of us, shielding me from it, throwing his own curse back at her.
“They both fell to the ground, and I was left standing, watching it all, broken wand in my hands. I didn’t move; couldn’t move. I just watched it happen,” she whispered, at the end of her story.
“I don’t think there is anything you could have done,” Draco whispered, his hand brushing the small of her back, attempting to comfort her. She stiffened, and stepped away slightly.
“You know as well as I do that there is something I that I could have done. I could have saved him, I could have used my magic, even if my wand was broken.” The statement hung in the air, causing silence to fill the air, broken only by the sound of their breathing.
“Harry tried to fix things between us after that night, but whatever it was that had been between us had been broken forever, and there was nothing that he could do to fix it,” Ginny said, unwilling to stand in silence, now that she had finally begun to talk.
“Why? What does Potter have to do with it?” Draco asked.
“Don’t you see? Neville was invisible. To Harry, to Ron, to Hermione, to everyone else in the world. No one could see what he was inside, no one knew who he was or what he could do. He was an insignificant tag-along; and the only reason he even knew that they were going was because he overheard them talking. He was overlooked, because he wasn’t important enough to make the world see him. There are hundreds of invisible people in the world – the ones that you would never notice. You can see them, because they are there, but you don’t see them really. I realized that night that I was invisible.
“And I promised myself that I would do whatever it takes to make sure that I would be seen. I had been left behind during that fight, because Harry, Ron and Hermione overlooked me; they didn’t see me. Neville died because I was invisible, and in order to make that up to him, to make it up for the both of us, I would have to become something worth seeing.”
“And that is the reason your life has become your work. The reason why you’ve become the famous diplomat, known for her crusade against the Dark Arts.” And it’s the reason you have frozen everyone out of your life, the reason you’ve taken on that Ice Queen persona and freeze out anyone who gets too close. You don’t want anyone to get too close or else they might divert you from this goal of yours, Draco silently added.
“I hesitated. I was always taught that Dark Magic is Dark Magic; no matter what purpose it serves. I couldn’t let go of that, even to save his life. And I stood by, while he died to save my life. I made a choice that day. Whatever magic there is inside of me, I would only use what comes out of my wand. Because I hesitated that day, because I stood by and watched him die while he saved my life.”
“Virginia,” Draco started, his voice a soft whisper against his ear, “you’ve been so busy trying to be seen that you’ve forgotten to live. He died so you could live. Don’t you think it’s time you start doing that?”
She pushed him away violently, her whole body shaking with her fury as she stared at him with burning eyes, fighting the urge to take a swing at him. But as his calm, gray eyes met hers, and the sparse light around them caught and made them glow silver, her anger died. Looking down at her, seeing her wide eyes dart away, looking anywhere at him, she reminded him of a lost little girl, on the verge of giving into the panic that came with the thought that she may never find her way. He reached out for her, and took her icy cold hand in his. His touch brought a feeling of warmth to her hand, and she looked up at him with glassy eyes, and grasped his hand tightly.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?” he asked awkwardly, unable to keep the slight sneer off his face. Crying women made him feel uncomfortable.
“I don’t cry,” she said stonily. Now that she felt the warmth of his hands, she suddenly realized how very cold she was, and began to shiver.
“You’re freezing,” Draco said. In one fluid movement, he shrugged off his robe, and flung it around her, pulling her close to him. She sighed softly as the warmth of his body enfolded her, reminding her of something she’d forgotten. “It’s time to go home, Virginia. Let the past rest for awhile, before you freeze to death.”
With one arm around her shoulders and his head bent protectively over hers, in a rare moment of compliance, she allowed him to lead her away from the frozen grave and the gray head stone.
**********************************************************
Okay, so that was THE chapter. This is the scene I had in my mind when I started writing this story, and while it hasn’t turned out the way I expected it to, I’m glad that it’s down on paper and I can start thinking about the ending.
For anyone who may have been wondering about how the title, The Visible Invisible, fits in, I hope you understand now.
Chapter 22: In Victory Field
It was a dark place, damp and desolate. As if the elements themselves understood that this was a place devoid of any happiness, a shroud of fog always seemed to hang about, blocking any sunlight that may enter, and keeping a bleak chill in the air. It was a dark place, and it was eternally lonely.
She wasn’t the only person there; she could hear the low and solemn voices of others, stretched out over the immense area, but she could not see anyone – the dreary fog made certain of that. In the isolated corner of the yard where she stood, a giant black oak tree stood, separating this corner from the rest, isolating it from the rest of the monuments.
Ginny crouched down low, before the tombstone, running her fingers over the engraved letters set in the cold stone. She looked away; unable to face the guilt of so many years ago. A guilt that was made worse by the fact that she had almost forgotten about her yearly vigil at his grave sight – she had been distracted, too caught up in her musings about Draco and whatever it was that was happening between the two of them.
She had been unable to forget, for the longest time. The nightmares, the panic attacks, the constant fear were all ways constantly reminded her of that night, six years ago, which kept the guilt eating away at her at all hours of the day. For the longest time, she allowed herself work and tried to cast off the shadow that plagued her through her success. And it had worked. As long as work was her entire life, as long as everything she had was thrown into achieving her goals, the guilt and the nightmares had dimmed, falling away from the forefront of her everyday life. As long as she froze everyone out, she didn’t have to feel it.
But now…not only had she allowed someone close, but she had forgotten. Her solitary day spent in vigil, paying her respects to his grave – to his memory and what it meant to her life – the only way she acknowledged what had happened, and she had forgotten about it.
With trembling fingers, she again traced the name etched in stone, and struggled to shut out the images that had been haunting her nightmares out of her mind, forcing herself to freeze out the emotions that were threatening to overwhelm her.
* * * * *
Fighting back the reluctant urge to shiver as he navigated through the overgrown paths of the cemetery, Draco Malfoy scanned the misty landscape for the brightness of Ginny’s red hair. Clarice had not been very clear about exactly whose grave Ginny visited each year, but she had given him some idea of how to find it, in the immense field he currently found himself in.
He’d heard about this particular grave yard before – there wasn’t anyone who had lived through Voldemort’s second reign of terror who didn’t know at least one person who had ended up there. But he’d never been there, hadn’t been able to bring himself to see the kind of carnage that had befallen the wizarding world. He never thought that it would be so large – that the Victory Field Cemetery would contain so many stone tombstones.
As he passed by the rows, reading the names etched forever in stone, he felt a strange twinge in his stomach every time he saw a name that he recognized – Marcus Flint, Dean Thomas, Millicent Bulstrode, Lee Jordan, Vincent Crabbe, Severus Snape. They had all died in those turbulent days; no matter what “side” they chose, they were all commemorated in this spot. As he paused in front of his former Potions Master’s tombstone, for the first time he felt regret over his inaction.
He hadn’t chosen a side; he had escaped to Bulgaria, citing the family duty as reasons for his inactivity. His father, disappointed that his son was not following in his footsteps, but satisfied in his reasons, had encouraged the rumor that Draco had been killed mysteriously, figuring that if the time ever came when his son was needed to help in his cause, the possibility of the element of surprise was appealing.
He looked away from the gravestone, almost in shame. He had vowed he would never bow before mangled and deformed creature that had the nerve to call himself the Dark Lord, but he had never done anything to prevent his rise to power, either. Until the day came when his own father – mentor, role model and guide – had chosen his allegiance to Dark over his vow as a Malfoy, and had betrayed his family in the most terrible way. That was the day that Draco had been forced to take action. The day that Lucius Malfoy had died.
Shaking off the grip of that memory from his mind, he swiftly turned away, and continued up the path, searching again for Ginny. His aunt had related the abrupt way that Ginny had left that morning, describing the stricken look on her face, and the panic that she was trying to keep hidden. Upon hearing this, Draco had immediately felt compelled to find her – her nightmare still fresh on his mind. The way she had been completely debilitated – victimized – by whatever nightmare was haunting her had sparked in him a compulsion to protect her, to erase the memory of whatever it was that terrified her so, to keep it away any way that he could.
That was probably the reason he had brought her to middle of the labyrinth, he figured. It was the one placed where his past did not haunt him, the magic of the unicorns (which was becoming increasingly weaker) would protect her from any harm. Their acceptance of anyone into their field was very rare, but they seemed to sense her need for their magic the same way that fateful unicorn had in the first Malfoy. They wanted to help save her.
But from what? The blasted voice in his head asked. This was a question that he had been playing around in his mind since that day he had walked into her office. He wondered about the reason the layers of ice had built up, about her crusade to end the use of all Dark Magic, about the reasons she refused to acknowledge the power she had and to use it. The mystery about her was what had initially drawn him in; but now, it was merely frustrating. He need his answers, he needed to understand her.
In the far corner of the field, nearly hidden by the ancient oak tree looming ominously overhead, he caught side of a small figure, crouched in the snow. Recognizing the bright hair, such a shock of color in the desolateness of the cemetery, he walked over. He stood behind her in silence, watching her as she stared straight ahead of her, at the name etched in the stone, and the mystery about her suddenly all fell into place.
The name of the grave read Neville Longbottom.
* * * * *
She heard his footsteps crunching in the snow behind her, but didn’t turn around. She could feel his gaze on the back of her neck, and knew instantly whom it was that stood behind her. She didn’t need to turn around; it figured that the only person that would come to his grave on this day was the one person in the world she did not want to see at the moment. He remained silent, and his lack of words weighed more heavily on her than even his presence. She decided to break it.
“Harry, Ron and Hermione used to come with me every year. But they eventually forgot about it. Everyone forgets,” she said softly, biting back a shiver as the chilly wind picked up and tossed her hair about her face.
“But you can’t,” he commented, taking a step closer, standing beside her.
“I won’t. I almost did, this morning you know. And it was a good feeling, to wake up feeling warm and safe the way that I did and to think about what the day might hold. But when I realized that I had forgotten about it, it was a terrible feeling, because I shouldn’t forget, not about him. Not today.”
“Forgetting, no. But maybe it is time to let go?” he asked, his voice low and soft. At that she turned to face him, pulling away violently from his as he tried to put his hand on her shoulder.
“Six years ago today, he saved my life. He died so that I could live. That is not something that you can just let go! What do you know about it?” she demanded, her eyes blazing and wild. He said nothing but just stared at her with his cloaked gray eyes. They seemed to be probing her, searching for an answer. She turned away quickly, and sighed before she crouched low to the ground again.
“So many people called it a war. But it wasn’t a war. Those are supposed to have some kind of glorious end, something to justify the waste that comes along with it. But there was no glory here, because nothing could ever justify the waste.
“It was silly, really. I can’t even remember why we were there. I think Harry had some feeling about an attack on the Order of the Phoenix, and Neville and I tagged along, unwilling to be left out. We wanted to help, so we followed along. I practically had to hex Ron into letting me come, but we managed to convince him. When we got to Sirius’ house – the headquarters for the Order – everything was dark and quiet. Eerie. We were so certain that we were too late, and we were afraid that the worst had happened.
“But then we heard the laughter. His laugh is very distinctive, you know. Once you hear it, once you know that the feeling of cold ice stabbing into your stomach is actually someone’s laughter, you can never forget it. Tom Riddle may have changed when he became Lord Voldemort, but his laugh didn’t.
“I don’t know what we were thinking, five children racing into a full-fledged wizards fight, but that’s exactly what we did. One minute we were in the main hallway, the next thing I knew, I was crouched behind chair, trying to avoid the curses being thrown at me. Harry, Ron and Hermione had all run ahead, leaving us behind.
“Bellatrix Lestrange was right in front of me, she didn’t know that I was there yet. I remembered what she had done to Harry’s godfather, about all the terrible things she had done to so many people, and the chance was right in front of me. I was about to stupefy her, when suddenly Neville was yelling at me to turn around, that there was someone behind me.
“Before I could do anything, I saw him run towards me, and I saw her turn around. His wand was pointed at something behind me, I saw the spell shoot out of it, and I heard the person behind me fall to the ground, bumping into my knees. I tripped, and my wand snapped when I fell. Bellatrix Lestrange had turned around when she heard him, and had finally noticed me. She aimed a curse at me, and Neville, seeing her, jumped between the two of us, shielding me from it, throwing his own curse back at her.
“They both fell to the ground, and I was left standing, watching it all, broken wand in my hands. I didn’t move; couldn’t move. I just watched it happen,” she whispered, at the end of her story.
“I don’t think there is anything you could have done,” Draco whispered, his hand brushing the small of her back, attempting to comfort her. She stiffened, and stepped away slightly.
“You know as well as I do that there is something I that I could have done. I could have saved him, I could have used my magic, even if my wand was broken.” The statement hung in the air, causing silence to fill the air, broken only by the sound of their breathing.
“Harry tried to fix things between us after that night, but whatever it was that had been between us had been broken forever, and there was nothing that he could do to fix it,” Ginny said, unwilling to stand in silence, now that she had finally begun to talk.
“Why? What does Potter have to do with it?” Draco asked.
“Don’t you see? Neville was invisible. To Harry, to Ron, to Hermione, to everyone else in the world. No one could see what he was inside, no one knew who he was or what he could do. He was an insignificant tag-along; and the only reason he even knew that they were going was because he overheard them talking. He was overlooked, because he wasn’t important enough to make the world see him. There are hundreds of invisible people in the world – the ones that you would never notice. You can see them, because they are there, but you don’t see them really. I realized that night that I was invisible.
“And I promised myself that I would do whatever it takes to make sure that I would be seen. I had been left behind during that fight, because Harry, Ron and Hermione overlooked me; they didn’t see me. Neville died because I was invisible, and in order to make that up to him, to make it up for the both of us, I would have to become something worth seeing.”
“And that is the reason your life has become your work. The reason why you’ve become the famous diplomat, known for her crusade against the Dark Arts.” And it’s the reason you have frozen everyone out of your life, the reason you’ve taken on that Ice Queen persona and freeze out anyone who gets too close. You don’t want anyone to get too close or else they might divert you from this goal of yours, Draco silently added.
“I hesitated. I was always taught that Dark Magic is Dark Magic; no matter what purpose it serves. I couldn’t let go of that, even to save his life. And I stood by, while he died to save my life. I made a choice that day. Whatever magic there is inside of me, I would only use what comes out of my wand. Because I hesitated that day, because I stood by and watched him die while he saved my life.”
“Virginia,” Draco started, his voice a soft whisper against his ear, “you’ve been so busy trying to be seen that you’ve forgotten to live. He died so you could live. Don’t you think it’s time you start doing that?”
She pushed him away violently, her whole body shaking with her fury as she stared at him with burning eyes, fighting the urge to take a swing at him. But as his calm, gray eyes met hers, and the sparse light around them caught and made them glow silver, her anger died. Looking down at her, seeing her wide eyes dart away, looking anywhere at him, she reminded him of a lost little girl, on the verge of giving into the panic that came with the thought that she may never find her way. He reached out for her, and took her icy cold hand in his. His touch brought a feeling of warmth to her hand, and she looked up at him with glassy eyes, and grasped his hand tightly.
“You’re not going to cry, are you?” he asked awkwardly, unable to keep the slight sneer off his face. Crying women made him feel uncomfortable.
“I don’t cry,” she said stonily. Now that she felt the warmth of his hands, she suddenly realized how very cold she was, and began to shiver.
“You’re freezing,” Draco said. In one fluid movement, he shrugged off his robe, and flung it around her, pulling her close to him. She sighed softly as the warmth of his body enfolded her, reminding her of something she’d forgotten. “It’s time to go home, Virginia. Let the past rest for awhile, before you freeze to death.”
With one arm around her shoulders and his head bent protectively over hers, in a rare moment of compliance, she allowed him to lead her away from the frozen grave and the gray head stone.
**********************************************************
Okay, so that was THE chapter. This is the scene I had in my mind when I started writing this story, and while it hasn’t turned out the way I expected it to, I’m glad that it’s down on paper and I can start thinking about the ending.
For anyone who may have been wondering about how the title, The Visible Invisible, fits in, I hope you understand now.
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