A Deal with the Devil by GinnyP0tter
Summary: The trio is off hunting Horcruxes. Desperate to find some way to help them, Ginny makes a deal with a very unlikely person in order to get information.
Categories: Works in Progress Characters: Draco Malfoy, Ginny Weasley
Compliant with: HBP and below
Era: Hogwarts-era
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Series: None
Chapters: 2 Completed: No Word count: 4902 Read: 6761 Published: Mar 18, 2008 Updated: Mar 27, 2008

1. 1. The Proposal by GinnyP0tter

2. The Decision by GinnyP0tter

1. The Proposal by GinnyP0tter
“And I want at least a foot and a half on the Simple Healing Charm,” Professor Flitwick called over the noise of the class.

“Come on, Ginny,” Anya said, brushing her dark hair out of her face. “Let’s get out of here before he gives us any more homework.”

I nodded as I stuffed my books in my bag and rolled up the parchment I’d been taking notes on. “They say sixth year is easier than fifth, but that’s an outright lie,” I muttered.

Anya laughed, a soft throaty chuckle as she pulled me out of the classroom. “If we start right now, we might be done before Quidditch practice tonight.”

I stopped dead in my tracks. “Are you serious? Merlin, I forgot! What was Demelza thinking? She knows Thursdays are the worst homework nights!”

Anya just smiled and tugged on my arm. “You’d rather be playing Quidditch than revising any day.”

I made a face. “Flying is great and all, but…” I trailed off, suddenly not wanting the conversation to go any further. Flying just hadn’t been the same for a long time. It wasn’t just because I hated playing Seeker, either.

Anya knew me too well. “Have you heard from them all?” she asked softly.

I looked away. “Not a word. For months.”

It was common knowledge that Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn’t returned for their seventh year at Hogwarts, but no one knew the real reason why. I knew I was probably the only person in the entire school including the professors who knew of the Horcruxes my friends were hunting for, and only because I had made use of some of Fred and George’s inventions to spy on their whispered conversations at the Burrow. I guess their crazy inventions did come in handy, huh? Among the students, however, a plethora of stories were circulating, the wildest of them claiming that the trio had joined the Weird Sisters and were now touring in Australia. It was probably a good thing, though The more stories there were, the less likely Voldemort would be to figure out the real reason for the their absence from school.

The Order had been searching for the trio for months, with no success. The only comfort in this fact was that most likely the Death Eaters wouldn’t be able to locate my friends either. But if they were dead…

“Earth to Ginny…” Anya’s soft voice cut back into my thoughts. “Are we going to work on that essay now, or later?”

“Huh? Oh, let’s do it now. If I put it off, I’ll be pulling another late-nighter to get it finished. And heaven knows black shadows clash horribly with my hair…”

We both laughed. It felt good to laugh. For a few fleeting moments, I could forget about the load of worry that had been pressing down on me ever since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had disappeared just after Harry’s birthday.

We began to climb the staircase to the dorm. Suddenly, I stopped. “Oh darn,” I muttered, slapping my forehead.


“I left my favorite quill in the classroom.”

Anya rolled her eyes. “Again? Want me to come with you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just meet you in the Common Room,” I told her.

“Later then.”

I scampered back down four staircases, cursing my forgetfulness. Fortunately the classroom wasn’t locked, and I found the quill quickly. I started towards the door, but something drew me back. I paused and looked back at the classroom, torn between two choices—the Charms essay with Anya, or a quiet, empty room all to myself? I had secretly been craving solitude for months—just a quiet place for me to think. But another part of me didn’t want the solitude. It was much easier for me to try not to think Ron, Harry, and Hermione and how their lives might be in danger when I could surround myself with my classmates and friends.

An empty desk seat was beckoning. I lingered only a moment more before my decision was made. I willingly slipped into the desk and leaned forward, taking in the room. Harry, Ron and Hermione had been here. Maybe one of them had sat in the very same chair I was currently occupying. Ron and Harry had struggled with new charms in this room while Hermione always got them right the first time. Maybe the three had even had their low-key conversations here, using the normal Charms ruckus to cover their whispered chats. Maybe it had been here that Ron first noticed that Hermione was maybe even more than just “a girl.”

I slumped back into the chair and tried to think about something—anything—that didn’t involve Harry, Ron, and Hermione. But their faces kept pressing themselves into my mind. Ron and Harry laughing wildly at a lame joke while Hermione uselessly admonished them to study from behind a large pile of library books. Ron’s brotherly jabs at Quidditch practice, his loyalty and sense of humor, the look on his face when he found Dean and me snogging, and then again when Harry I had shared their first kiss. The late nights Hermione and me had spent talking, first at the Burrow, then during the school year all those times when Hermione had slipped into my dorm to sleep because Parvati and Lavender were getting on her nerves. And Harry…

I didn’t want to think about Harry.

The tears I’d been holding back for months began to flow. I fought them back for a few moments before surrendering. No one was here; no one would ever know. I buried my face in my hands, my body shaking with sobs. Why were they doing this to me? Especially Harry. I had thought he had cared about me, but he couldn’t just leave me hanging like this. I felt like I was dying without him.

“Weaselette, if you don’t stop sobbing all over the bloody floor, we’re going to need Bubble-Head charms to breathe.”

I froze in horror and rage. I knew that voice. Slowly I turned, holding my wand our carefully.

Malfoy was leaning casually against the door, his cold eyes taking in the scene.

“What are you doing here?” I spat, furiously wiping the tears from my cheeks.

“Free country, Weaselette.”

“Leave,” I commanded, standing and extending my wand threateningly. “I was here first.”

“Tut, tut, I would have thought you to have more etiquette than that, Weasley,” Malfoy drawled.

“I have more manners than you’ll ever even dream of having, Malfoy,” I said contemptuously.

I knew that the Order had tracked Snape to his home in Spinner’s End the previous summer after Dumbledore’s death. They had captured Narcissa and her son, but Snape had slipped away somehow in the confusion. No one really knew where he was, but the best guess was that he was reunited with Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Narcissa had been sent into hiding, Draco back to Hogwarts, where the teachers kept a close eye on him. He was magically imprisoned within the school’s boundaries, and forbidden from sending owls or communicating in any form with anyone from the outside world. Most people didn’t know that he had tried to murder Dumbledore, and I guessed that he hadn’t shared that bit of information with his ever-shrinking group of Slytherin followers. Ever-shrinking, because more Slytherins left every week, it seemed. Only half had come back after the summer.

I pulled my mind back to the present. “What do you want?” I asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

Malfoy licked his lips as his eyes wandered up and down my body. I suddenly felt naked, exposed, as his gaze took me—all of me-–in. A feeling of utter revulsion washed over me, and I shrank back. “I think you know what I want,” he said, finally meeting my eyes again.

“Dirty-minded rodent,” I cried, clutching my robes closer to my body. “I’d rather…I’d rather…”

He smirked as I struggled for a sufficient comparison. “The giant squid would make a better companion than you,” I finally sputtered. “I’ve wasted enough time already. I’m leaving.”

My hand had touched the doorknob when I heard his chilling laugh. “I wouldn’t leave if I were you, Weasley,” he said coolly.

Without wanting to, I paused and slowly turned. “Give me one good reason to stay in this god-damned classroom with the person I detest more than anyone else in the entire world.”

“Three words, blood traitor. Potty, Weasel, and Mudblood.”

Goosebumps appeared on my arms, unrelated to the drafty Charms classroom. What did Malfoy know? “Why would you care about them?” I said slowly.

“I don’t, Weasley. But you do.”

I waited.

“They aren’t at school this year. Potty probably got it into his overlarge head that he is the blasted Chosen One and took it on himself to single-handedly defeat the Dark Lord.”

I twisted a lock of hair impatiently. What was he getting at?

“He’s probably being pursued by Death Eaters this very moment. Your precious boyfriend’s life is in danger.”

“I know that, Malfoy. Stop wasting my time,” I snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t get it, do you? Damn, Weasley, you’re thicker than I thought.”

I glared at him, but said nothing, knowing that eventually he would get to the point. Draco Bloody Malfoy liked to take his time, drawing out the performance.

“I’m just saying, I’ve noticed you moping around the last few months and thought you might like to feel useful for a change.”

“Useful? Useful to you?”

“Heck, no,” he said. “Well, maybe…” Once again, he eyed my body, and I took another step back.

“Get to the point, Malfoy.”

“I might be feeling generous tonight,” he hinted. “Generous enough to strike a deal.”

“What kind of deal?” I said warily, edging away, but suddenly finding myself against the wall.

“God, Weasley. Do I have to spell it out? I have information that might be useful to Potty and his tag-alongs…information about the Horcruxes.”

“How…how did you know?” I gasped, horrified. It felt as if someone had just punched me in the stomach. Malfoy knew about the Horcruxes. Would he tell Voldemort if I didn’t do what he wanted? What did he want?

Malfoy snorted. “My home practically used to be Death Eater Headquarters. Let’s just say that it’s not hard to overhear…certain things.”

I shivered. “Do they know? The other Death Eaters? About the Horcruxes?”

He regarded me coldly for a long moment, then spoke. “I don’t think they do. But I heard enough from them and my parents to wonder why the Dark Lord was guarding certain objects so carefully. I did some research, and discovered the truth for myself.”

“The Hogwarts library doesn’t have any information about Horcruxes,” I said, looking desperately for holes in his story. I knew because I had overheard Hermione telling Ron that during the summer.

“Why would I use the Hogwarts library when I’ve got a library of dark magic books at Malfoy Manor that would make Durmstrang’s collection look small in comparison?” he sneered.

“And why would you be willing to suddenly spill information?” I challenged. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

His eyes narrowed. “The only connection I’ve got with that world anymore is this blasted mark.” He shoved up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark on his forearm, and I bit my lip and tried to stomach my revulsion. “They have given me nothing. My mother’s in hiding, my father in Azkaban. From now on, I’m working for only one person…me.”

“How very noble of you.”

“I don’t see you doing anything brave and noble to help Potty. Little Weaselette’s just sitting at school, pretending nothing’s happening. Bet you’ve forgotten all about your so-called friends.”

“I have not!” I cried, my voice rising furiously. “I have not forgotten them! I…I…just don’t know what to do.” It hurt to admit it, especially to my worst enemy.

“Now you know.”

I felt a chill fill the room that hadn’t been there before. “What do you want in return for information?” I said slowly, already knowing the answer, dreading his response.

Malfoy paused. “Let me see…” he said, scratching his chin sarcastically. “Um… I want… Galleons? Naw… plenty of those in my Gringotts account. Information? Nope. Help with revising? No…. Now that Granger’s gone I’ve got the best scores in my year. What do you think I want, Weasley?”

I cringed as he took a step closer, his eyes traveling hungrily over me. “I want you.”

He was too close now… I could feel his hot breath on my face, and his arms gripping my shoulders.

With a mighty shove, I freed myself. Malfoy landed hard on the floor. “Never,” I screeched at him feverishly. “I would never lower myself to such a level! Never.”

As I made my escape, I heard his words echoing behind me. “You’ll come around, Weaselette. Just think about it.”
The Decision by GinnyP0tter
Anya looked up as I flew into the Gryffindor Common Room. “Where were you?”

“Talking to Luna,” I lied, collapsing into the chair next to her. I was still shaken from my conversation with Draco Bloody Malfoy. Anya already had nearly two feet of parchment filled with her neat miniscule writing and a stack of reference books spread across the table. “Is the essay hard?”

“No. I’m almost done. You can look at mine when I finish.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully. I wasn’t sure I could concentrate on writing an essay from scratch right now.

I sat there for a few minutes, flipping through one of Anya’s books, not really paying attention to the pictures and words.

“There,” Anya said, finishing the last word with a flourish and quickly casting an Instant-Drying charm on the essay. “It’s done.”

I held out a hand, and the essay flew to me. I caught it and looked it over. “This is a little too lengthy, isn’t it?” I said doubtfully, scanning her essay. “I mean, you even quoted famous Healers…”

I looked up and saw Anya watching me. “Ginny, you should really tell someone about your wandless magic.”

My face flushed red. “Oh, that. Sorry…I didn’t even realize I did it.”

“And that’s precisely the reason you should talk to McGonagall or one of the teachers,” Anya argued. “They would probably want to know.”

“I don’t want them to make a big deal,” I hedged. “Besides, they’re all so busy right now. Maybe the wandless stuff will go away in time.”

I knew I was just making stuff up to get out of confessing. Anya knew it too.

“Can you do regular spells?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Not standard level spells, but sometimes I can do simple charms. Mostly it’s just…” I trailed off, not really wanting to sound like I was bragging or not.

“Go on,” Anya urged.

“It’s weird,” I said, lowering my voice. “It’s like ever since last year I’ve become more aware of the magic around me. It began slowly, with just little things. I first noticed it with the nonverbal household spells that my Mum does. It was like suddenly I could feel the magic moving from one place to another. Then the feeling started getting more powerful, and I started to sense magic all the time. In everything. The air, the ground, the spells, the wizarding stuff we have at home, in me…”

I swallowed. Now she’d really think I was weird. But Anya simply nodded. “And…?”

“And so I started experimenting it. I started seeing if I could channel some of the magic together to make objects move. It worked.”

“So you can move items? Is it more like the summoning and banishing spells, or is it more like levitating?”

Both,” I said, shrugging, a little embarrassed that she seemed so interested. “The farther away the objects are from me, the harder it is for me to move them.”

“Can you shut the curtains?” Anya asked, pointing to the red drapes hanging over the window across the room.

“I don’t think so,” I said. But I knew I could. “Besides, there’s too many people in the Common Room right now. Um, about that essay?”

Anya snapped back. “Oh, right, the essay,” she said, taking it back from me. “Are you sure you want to start now? I mean, it’s almost six. Remember? Quidditch practice?”

I groaned, wondering if Demelza would be too upset if I just didn’t show. “I don’t want to go,” I muttered before I could stop myself.

Anya watched me, concern lining her face. “Gin? Is everything alright?”

“Everything’s fine,” I said, a little too quickly.

“Are you sure? You seem…well, a little different. Did something happen after class?”

“Nothing happened,” I snapped, finally loosing it. “Just mind your own business!”

As I fled up the stairs to the dormitory, I regretted my rudeness. Anya was one of the only friends I had right now, and she had proved her loyalty again and again in the previous months.

Why did the stupid ferret have to confront me like that? Why did this have to happen to me in the first place? Wasn’t my life bad enough already without this added stressor? I angrily threw off my robes and fished around in my trunk for my Quidditch uniform. I grabbed my broom and headed down the stairs at a rum.

The table where Anya had been was deserted. I silently cursed myself for my harsh words. Now I’d have to wait until after practice to apologize.

With one last glance at the empty table, I headed out the portrait hole.

Quidditch practice was horrible. For me, anyway. In our warm up, I dropped the Quaffle four times, and during the practice game, I didn’t spot the Snitch once. Demelza pulled me aside after practice.
“Is everything alright?” the Gryffindor captain asked, pushing her dark hair out of her face.

“I’m OK,” I said, sighing. “Everything just kind of built up today. And I had a run-in with Malfoy.”

Demelza made a face. “I’m sorry. What did the slimy git want?”

I looked away. “I’m a girl,” I said in a lower voice. “What do you think he wanted?”

Demelza’s eyes widened. “The nerve of him! Bloody bastard!”

I listened half-heartedly as Demelza set a new record for the number of insults in one sentence describing one person. At least my friend was standing up for me. Suddenly I realized Demelza had asked me a question.

“Sorry, what was that?”

“What did you tell Malfoy?”

“What do you think? I told him no, not in this lifetime.”

“Good,” she said, looking satisfied. “He needs a deflation. He thinks he’s so bloody sexy he can have any girl he wants eating out of his hand.”

I said nothing. I was still trying to banish the other things Malfoy had said from my mind. But his words haunted me as I followed Demelza up the staircases to the Gryffindor Common Room.

Bet you’ve forgotten all about your so-called friends, Malfoy had taunted.

I have not forgotten them! I…I…just don’t know what to do, I had screamed.

His chilling words still echoed in my mind. Now you know.

“Pogrebin,” Demelza said to the Fat Lady, who sniffed and swung open.

To my relief, Anya was once again in the Common Room, her books spread out over a back table. I rushed over.

“Anya, I’m sorry…” I began, but the dark-haired girl waved me away.

“It’s OK, Ginny, really,” Anya said, a smile playing at the edges of her mouth. “You were upset, that’s all.”

I lowered myself into the next chair, and my shoulders slumped. “I still shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“What are friends for?” the other girl said simply. “Go change, and then we’ll work on the essay.”

“Oi, Ginny, over here,” Dean called as I entered the Great Hall the next morning for breakfast. I smiled politely and marched past him, over to where Demelza and Anya sitting next to Colin Creevy.

“That Thomas bloke needs to take a hint,” Demelza said angrily after greeting me.

“He won’t leave me alone,” I sighed, plopping down next to Anya and serving herself some scrambled eggs. Dean had been following me all year long. “Gosh, he thinks that just because Ha…” I gulped. “…just because Harry isn’t around he can make moves on me again,” I finished, determined to act normal. I could do this. I could get over Harry.

Colin was eying me interestedly, but to my relief, Anya and Demelza were acting as if nothing unusual had happened. “He should just get a life,” Anya said. “And a girlfriend. Then maybe he wouldn’t follow you around all the time.”

Colin had regained his composure. “Or you need a boyfriend. Maybe then he’d leave you alone.”

I raised my eyebrows. “And who’d you suggest?”

Colin grinned slyly. “Me. Want to go out with me, Ginny?”

Anya and Demelza went in to fits of giggles. I merely rolled my eyes. “That’s like the twenty-second time you’ve asked me, Colin. And the answer is still no.”

“Wow, you counted!” Colin said, not looking put out at all. “Maybe the twenty-third time will be the charm.”

I opened my mouth to reply that even if he asked me a million times, the answer would still be no, but at that moment there was a commotion as fifty owls soared into the Great Hall. To my surprise, a tiny brown owl was soaring towards me carrying an envelope that was twice its size.

“Look, Ginny, you’ve got a letter,” Colin said excitedly. “Who’s it from? Hey, isn’t that Ron’s owl?”

“It was,” I said, absentmindedly stroking Pigwidgeon as I untied the letter from his leg. “But Ron gave the owl to Mum last…last summer. Before he…disappeared.”

I ripped open the letter. “It’s from my mum,” I informed the onlookers.

Dear Ginny, the letter read.

I have charmed this letter so only you can read it. How is school going, dear? Your father and I miss you horribly. Fred and George drop in every so often, and we see Bill and Charlie at Order meetings, but other than that, the house is much too quiet.

No news from Ron, Harry, or Hermione. The Order is still looking for them. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I will against my better judgment because you deserve to know. Remus and Tonks searched Godric’s Hollow—the home Lily and James lived in before they were killed—and found signs of a recent fight. There were blood stains on the ground and some complex spellwork revealed that some of the curses were cast with Ron and Harry’s wands. We don’t know what happened. Maybe they ran into Death Eaters, or maybe it was someone else attacking them. If all three were there though, the fact that there are no traces of Hermione’s wand being used makes it seem as if she was hurt or otherwise unable to cast spells. I’m so worried and I probably

Ginny, you’re all I have left now, so please stay safe! Don’t do anything rash, and if you hear anything suspicious going on, you know who to tell. There are plenty of trustworthy Order members at Hogwarts, and you can confide in them.

Love, Mum

I stared at the letter, my head reeling. Ron and Harry and Hermione… They were attacked. Hermione was most likely hurt, if not dead. Maybe they’d been captured. My brother, Hermione, and Harry… Oh no, oh no, no, no….

The world was beginning to spin.

“Ginny? Ginny! What’s wrong?”

Demelza’s voice was coming from far away. I hardly felt several sets of hands pushing me to my feet and guiding me out into the Entrance Hall. Someone was pushing down on my shoulders. Wearily I obeyed and sank down onto the bottom step of the staircase. A cool goblet was being shoved into my hand, and willingly, I drank.

“Ginny! Are you OK? What happened?” Anya said loudly. Finally, her words made it through into my mind.

I looked up, and found Anya, Demelza, and Colin, all staring down at me with anxious expressions. “The letter,” I muttered. “Some Order….some of Mum’s friends found traces of Harry and Ron’s spells in an old house. There was blood all over the floor, and they think Hermione was badly hurt.”

Anya sat down next to me and put an arm around my shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Ginny….I’m sure they’ll be alright, though. You know Harry, he’s the best dueller at Hogwarts. He ran the DA. They’re smart…if Hermione’s hurt they’ll get help. They wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. It’ll be OK!”

I took several deep breaths and brushed away a few unwanted tears from my eyes. She was right. Harry was too smart to let a bunch of Death Eaters get him like that… He’d take care of Ron and Hermione. I was certain.

Was I? I knew Harry had faced Voldemort many times, but what if this time had been the unlucky one? His luck couldn’t hold forever. I closed my eyes and tried to squeeze the worry out of my mind, but it stayed there, lurking in the back like an ominous shadow.

Get a hold of yourself, I ordered myself.

But I don’t want to, another part of me complained.

Everyone’s watching. Everyone was watching? That jerked me back into reality. I opened my eyes and looked up at my friends.

“Merlin’s Beard,” I said softly as Colin helped me stand again. “Don’t tell a soul, OK?”

“Of course not,” Demelza said firmly, elbowing Colin in the ribs, who was looking disappointed.

“Oh, er, sure, I guess,” he stuttered. “I didn’t hear a thing.”

I smiled weakly. “Thanks. Thanks a lot.”

I had resolved to put the whole Malfoy incident behind me, but that was becoming impossible for several reasons. One, I couldn’t stop thinking about the letter Mum had sent me. What if Harry, Ron, and Hermione were all hurt? What if they had been captured? Maybe they were dead. Their faces kept pushing themselves into my mind again and again. I wished I knew for sure—knowing that they were indeed captured or dead must be better than not knowing anything for sure. Every time the pessimistic thoughts entered my mind, anxiety balled up in the pit of my stomach. As a result, I only picked at my lunch and supper, unable to eat.

The second reason I was having a hard time putting the Malfoy incident behind me was quite simple, actually. The reason was Malfoy.

Suddenly Draco-Bloody-Malfoy had taken to stalking me. When I rushed to classes, he was lurking in corners, leering at me. When I ran to the Gryffindor Common Room, he was a the top of one of the staircases, just watching. When I sat in the Great Hall, I had taken to always sitting with my back to the Slytherin table. But even this measure didn’t stop the prickling sensation that I experienced—without looking, I knew that from the Slytherin table, he was staring at me.

My friends noticed it too.

“God, he’s a bloody bastard,” Demelza spat as they headed down to the pitch one Tuesday afternoon. “Following you like that. If it were me, I’d have killed him already.”

I buried my face in my hands. “It’s living hell! He won’t leave me alone.”

“Hex him.”

I sighed. “It won’t work, ‘Melza. Not with Malfoy. It will just make him more persistent.”

Demelza arched her eyebrows. “He hasn’t seen your Bat-Bogey Hex, has he?”

We laughed. Then Demelza sobered. “Honestly, Ginny, be careful.”

I stopped in my tracks. “Why? I can take care of myself.”

Demelza shrugged. “I know, but there’s no reason for you not to be cautious. He is a Malfoy, after all. His dad’s a Death Eater.”

“His father is in Azkaban,” I said carelessly. “I’m not afraid of any Malfoy.”

“And you shouldn’t be. I’m just advising you to be careful, Ginny. Malfoys get what they want.”

“Not this Malfoy,” I shot back.

But Demelza’s words lingered in my mind and reappeared whenever I passed the offending Slytherin in the hall, or whenever I felt his eyes burning holes in the back of my robes. And at night, I was haunted by Demelza’s observation: Malfoys get what they want.
End Notes:
Welcome to my version of a powerful!Ginny story.I was quite dissapointed with Deathly Hallows, which is actually where I got the idea for this story.
This story archived at http://www.dracoandginny.com/viewstory.php?sid=5960