“Ginny, this is a really bad idea,” he said irritably as she led him by his arm.
“It’ll be fine,” she soothed. “They’ll remember that you saved my life, and all the nice things I said about you.”
“Is this really necessary? We could just go back my room and send for Groble; he likes you a lot.” Smoothing his robes absentmindedly, Draco kept his eyes averted from where they were walking, though his feet were all too compliant.
“They need to see what I see; they need to realise that you’re not the bad guy, and that we need to work together against the real bad guys if we’re going to survive.” She was all too chipper as she spoke of such dark subjects, but it was all for his benefit. Besides, I want my friends to meet the real you, she mused with a smile.
“Even if I don’t get hexed on sight by your lot, the Slytherins won’t hold back,” he muttered grudgingly.
“They won’t try anything right under McGonagall’s nose. Besides, I’ll protect you if you’re scared,” she teased.
“I’m not scared, and I certainly don’t need protecting by you,” he growled offensively, but kept walking.
Yes, yes, you’re not scared, that’s why you’ve worked so hard to stay hidden, she thought, but would never say aloud.
“We’re here! You ready?” she asked brightly.
“I can’t believe I let you talk me into this,” he grumbled.
Their next turn took them through the ceiling-high oak doors of the Great Hall, towards the end of dinnertime. The few students left took little notice of the odd pair straight away, and Ginny continued to walk swiftly toward an empty section of the Gryffindor table as if leading a Slytherin to sit with her was the most normal thing she could be doing. As they passed, several looked up from their plates or away from their conversations to stare. Voices died in volume and whispering began to spread in a wave of hisses. They sat down on the bench side by side, Ginny taking care so that they sat with their backs to the Slytherin table. A small Gryffindor first year yelped in surprise at the sight of the young Malfoy he had heard so much about sitting just down the bench, and Draco glared at him.
“This is bloody ridiculous; I shouldn’t be here,” he spat in distaste of being ogled at.
Ginny continued to smile and act normally as she filled her plate. “You have to rejoin society eventually; you might as well start here,” she articulated in an annoying, matter-of-fact tone.
“Only because you insisted, and you wouldn’t let the elves bring me anything to eat otherwise.” He submitted to piling up his own plate only because he was famished; he had held out for several days before giving in. As he guided a forkful of mashed potatoes towards his mouth, he felt a distinctive amount of pressure against his back forcing him forward slightly, then the pressure lifted and a loud bang and a crash was heard directly behind him.
He dropped his fork and turned at the commotion to see Astoria Greengrass, a fifth year, lying in an unconscious heap next to the Slytherin table, her face and hands covered in grotesque boils. Her older sister Daphne was glaring venomously at Draco from her place on the bench. She barked a few orders at some surly looking Slytherin boys, who then scooped up Astoria, one at her shoulders and one at her feet, and carried her out of the hall, Daphne hot on their heels. There were several titters of amusement and approval from the various other House tables, then the chatter resumed as normally as if Draco and Ginny hadn’t entered the hall, though the topics of conversation would surely revolve around the events of the past few minutes.
McGonagall had stormed down from the head table in pursuit of the cause of the disruption, looking livid as she swept past. Draco looked over at Ginny, who was snorting into her hand, her face bright red.
“Looks like she got what was coming,” she said nonchalantly, then proceeded to shove peach cobbler into her mouth in an attempt to look innocent.
“What did you do?” he asked as one side of his mouth tipped upward into a smirk, never having been more attracted to her than he was at that moment.
She swallowed in one gulp, and then grinned at him. “Just put up a shield charm as you sat down. I figured someone might try something from over there. Speaking of which–” She re-cast the charm with a flick of her wand behind his back.
“Impressive, Weasley,” he commented with cool but amused eyes before turning back to his plate.
The rest of the meal passed rather pleasantly with only the staring and occasional whispering to suffer instead of another attempted hex. Most students skirted around them, but a few of Ginny’s friends waved hello to her on their way out before nervously glancing at Draco and offering a polite smile. Upon Ginny’s hard nudge to his ribs, the edges of his lips would curve upward into a tight-lipped sign of recognition to their gesture, and then he would return to stuffing his face with rolls to avoid the awkwardness. She’d roll her eyes and shrug in a way that said, ‘See what I have to put up with?’ and they would nod sympathetically with a quiet giggle before turning to leave.
After several more dinners like this, each one beginning earlier, Ginny began to engage in conversations, usually dragging Draco into the discussion with questions like ‘Was Sprout this horrible when you were in sixth year?’ or ‘We’re having trouble with this spell, what are we doing wrong?’ She was blatantly obvious with what she was doing, and pushy, and assuming, but he loved her for it. Though he hardly desired this rowdy and hotheaded group of Gryffindors as close friends, he enjoyed the interaction. He felt less and less like an outcast, like he might just have a place in the world to come back to after everything he had destroyed being his father’s puppet.
The past week of ‘therapies’ as Ginny liked to think of them led up to the end of term feast, something she knew Draco had been longing to attend having missed several feasts already. When the two of them walked through the door to the Great Hall at the end of the last day of final exams, hardly anyone took notice, the buzz of conversation barely faltered, and there were even two seats saved instead of one amongst the students of the Gryffindor House.
Her inward celebration at successfully integrating him back into the bustle and chatter of normal student life had her positively glowing with pride. During the meal Draco actually passed a platter to a third year without even a hint of a sneer or a smirk, participated in a few discussions without prompting, and even cracked a genuine smile or two. Nothing could have ruined Ginny’s elation save for a disaster.
As the last of the pumpkin pie was scraped clean off their plates, the students settled into a lazy and comfortable state of fullness, chatting with each other about their long awaited holiday and what they planned to do with their weekend of complete freedom before going back home. Being so relaxed and at ease, most of them missed the silvery form shooting through the open doorway of the Hall, but those that did notice let out quiet gasps or shouts of astonishment as they followed its path with their pointer finger directly to the head table.
The Patronus settled itself in front of McGonagall, who had to bend low over her plate to hear what news would bring such a disruption to their celebration. As the rest of the faculty leaned in close for the quiet announcement, Ginny noticed that the shape of the Patronus was in fact a weasel. Her own father had sent this urgent message; the fact that the information came from the Order was even more troubling. Some of the professors betrayed the gravity of the news in their faces, sending a ripple of worry throughout the students as they all fell silent in anticipation of being informed. Giving the weasel a grave nod before it vanished into wisps of silvery smoke, McGonagall stood to face her audience, raising her arms unnecessarily to quiet the smouldering din.
“Students of Hogwarts, it is my deepest regret to end this happy celebration of the end of exams with terrible news, but I do not believe that keeping this information from you will help you in any way.” She paused for a moment, and the entire hall seemed to be holding its breath. “There has been an organised series of attacks carried out by the group known as the Death Eaters. The various establishments struck include several locations of Diagon Alley as well as the Ministry of Magic itself.”
The hall broke out in loud whispers upon the completion of her heavy announcement, several students raising their voices above the hushed conversations to ask questions that they knew McGonagall couldn’t possibly answer.
“Are my parents all right?”
“Did they attack wizarding homes?”
“Is anyone dead?”
Ginny snuck a look over her shoulder at the Slytherin table and noticed that hardly any of the House looked troubled at all by this turn of events. Most looked bored, or worse, smug. Without meaning to she caught the eye of a boy in her year with dark eyes and slicked back hair of deepest ebony, shiny with grease. He raised his goblet to her with a derisive smirk before draining it, and then gave her a wink. Her face flushed with fury as she impulsively reached beneath her robes. Draco noticed her lethal glare and placed a firm hand over hers as her fingers closed around her wand.
“He’s not worth it,” he whispered into her ear, and she tore her eyes away from the boy to calm herself in his silver depths.
Her anger died away as she let McGonagall’s words sink in, and a knot in the pit of her stomach tightened so severely at the sudden anxiousness she felt that her eyes filled with tears. Her father had sent that message, so he must be in the thick of this disaster. How many more of her family was affected; how many of them could be dead? Fred and George lived in Diagon Alley, so they were hardly safe. Was Ron, Hermione, or Harry a part of it? Were they all right? Releasing her wand, she grabbed his hand instead, interweaving her fingers in between each of his and squeezing tightly in an attempt to absorb some of his calm. He had no one to worry about outside of these walls, and she envied him for this freedom at the same time that she pitied him. The edge of one side of his mouth turned up in a form of reassurance that he was here for her, and she squeezed his hand again before turning back to the front.
The Headmistress raised her arms once more, and the voices instantly died down.
“Due to the nature of the magical enchantments protecting this castle, you are safest here for the moment. No student is allowed to leave the castle unless being boarded on the Hogwarts Express on Monday or given a Portkey by request of your parents from your Head of House. I encourage you to contact your families over the weekend, and if they desire you to stay where you are, then you are most welcome to do so.” She paused to take a deep breath and gaze down upon her students.
“Let us remember that a community divided within itself will never succeed to achieve a peaceful outcome. We must all learn to listen to each other, to work together, and to accept one another if we hope to rise through this. Though we may view the world differently,” her gaze swept over the Slytherins and lingered briefly before moving on, “that is no reason to let hate, anger, and revenge rule our hearts and allow one wizard to hold so much power over us. If there is ever a home that you require, we will always accommodate you here with kindness and compassion.” Her eyes then locked with Draco’s for a brief moment. “Be safe over this weekend, and after the Hogwarts Express has seen you safely home, enjoy a long holiday. Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will not be resuming classes next term save for a resolution to this war. Good luck to you all.”
With that McGonagall sat down and began whispering fervently with the rest of the faculty. The students, stunned into silence for a split second, suddenly erupted into loud conversation as they got up slowly to make their way towards their dorms.
Draco eased Ginny up off of the bench as she seemed to want to continue to sit in a daze.
“Come on, Ginny, I’ll walk you back to Gryffindor tower,” he said in a calming voice.
Her eyes snapped to his in fear; she couldn’t even contemplate being alone right now.
“Can I stay with you tonight?” she asked, her voice hinting at a shame only portrayed by a girl who didn’t normally share a bed with a boy she had been seeing for so short a time.
“Of course, love,” he responded without batting an eye as he pressed a kiss to her forehead and wrapped his arms around her. He hardly expected anything based on this request, but the thought of her warm body next to his, that he could hold her for hours as he slept, comforted his heart in a way he couldn’t describe.
She smiled into his shoulder before pulling away. “I’ll meet you there; I just have to go get a few things.”
Upon his nod of acknowledgement, she scampered away, anxious to get ahead of the crowd so that she might set up her bed hangings to look as though she were already asleep and escape the dormitory without anyone seeing her leave.
Suddenly aware of the absence of his only alibi in rejoining the other students of the school for dinner when he was hardly welcome, Draco tried to hurry away from the mob, but became caught in the flow towards the door.
“Oi, Malfoy!”
Draco rolled his eyes as he turned towards the shout. This should be good.
He saw Neville approaching him purposefully through the crowd. Apparently sensing a duel, or at least a fight, the students surrounding them stopped their movement and backed up to give them space. Noticing the reaction his yell had earned him, Neville’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment; he looked as if he hardly expected an audience.
“What is it, Longbottom? Come to threaten me some more?” Draco couldn’t help but sneer.
“No, I, uh…” He nervously ran a hand through his hair. Taking a deep breath, he met Draco’s glinting eyes. “I just was thinking about what McGonagall had said, and I’ve been watching you. You really seem to have changed a bit, so I just wanted to see if you’d like to put all this rivalry rubbish behind us.”
Almost ready to scoff, all sound caught in Draco’s throat as Neville’s right hand came up, outstretched in a gesture of armistice. Ogling at the hand for a moment, Draco felt more and more stares fall upon them, including several from the head table. Well, what the hell.
“I guess we are working against the same son-of-a-bitch, so we might as well act like we’re mates,” he said with the slightest of smiles as his own right hand came up to clasp Neville’s.
A look of relief spread across Neville’s face. “Good man,” he exclaimed. As he let go and moved on, another figured came forward.
“I’m glad you’re with us, Malfoy,” Seamus declared as he also held out his hand, and Draco shook it without hesitation.
“Thanks, Finnigan,” he responded with a slight amount of surprise.
Soon half of Gryffindor house had taken the initiative to come shake his hand. Draco couldn’t have felt more on display than if he had been standing on the Gryffindor house table sporting horrid shades of maroon and gold with Looney Lovegood’s disgusting lion hat roaring atop his head, especially with the deathly glares he received from each and every Slytherin to pass him by on their way out. Before long, several Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw students, mostly sixth and seventh years, had joined the throng of welcome. He couldn’t decide if he felt more humiliated or relieved. After the first twenty handshakes or so, he finally let a big grin break out across his face and allowed the glimmer of happiness in his heart at being forgiven and accepted to flourish.
After discussing the immediate issues at hand, and scheduling a faculty meeting for the following afternoon, Professor McGonagall hurried to her study after the feast for her next appointment. She then spent the next fifteen minutes pacing the length of her study, nervously checking the time of the large grandfather clock. Stopping at the window, she searched for any indications that the defensive enchantments were weakening, or signs of abnormalities besides the typical thick, frozen mist that had descended upon Britain within the last month; an ominous sign of what’s yet to come. The grounds looked peaceful, Hagrid’s small cabin windows lit and his chimney releasing a lazily rising column of grey smoke. A thick blanket of snow covered every surface of ground and the still lake looked gloomily foggy in the absence of the moon’s reflection.
As she continued to stare out the window, a soft pop and the sound of three pairs of feet hitting the floor was heard behind her, and she breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to gaze fondly upon her visitors, grateful to see them well, but with a feeling of deep unease imbedded in her gut as to the reason they wanted to come.
“I was worried; you were supposed to arrive several minutes ago.” She took in each of them in turn, appraising the various injuries adorning their faces, their starved figures, and the dark circles beneath their eyes. “I take it Aberforth is well?” she questioned.
“Yea, we got the Portkey from him just fine, though it was a job getting to him with all the wards set up in Hogsmeade.” Harry stepped forward to hand over the delicate pocket watch they had used as means to enter the school.
“Thank you, Professor.” Hermione also came forward to shake McGonagall’s hand earnestly.
“Is it almost finished? Whatever job that you cannot possibly let anyone help you with?” the Headmistress asked with raised eyebrows, hoping in her heart that they were here to ask for the guidance she so desperately wished to give them.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron exchanged glances. “Almost, Professor,” Harry responded. “This is our last stop.”
Author notes: Sorry for the cliffee! Thank you for reading, I'm so glad that you've stuck with me and I hope you've enjoyed it so far! Please review!
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