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Elemental	By : AngelaBlythe Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 3286 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
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Chapter List
- 11
- 12
- 13
ELEMENTAL

~by The Labris~

CHAPTER TWELVE:

The Curtains Rise

Allowances for a Hero

Draco paced the study of his
mentor and head of house nervously. Zabini, the
Creevey boy, Thomas, and Potter were talking quietly
in the corner. He paused to sneer at them before going back to his
pacing. He was barely able to keep a sound thought in his head, and all
ability to do so was completely lost when Snape and
the headmaster walked in.

Snape wore a frown befitting his
glorious personality, and the headmaster grinned like a six-year-old in a candy
shop. It always made Draco wonder about the
two. Dumbledore was obviously a father figure to Snape,
perhaps the closest thing he had to a friend. And yet they were so
different. Draco couldn�t bring himself to believe
Snape secretly hated Dumbledore. No one hated
Dumbledore, secretly or not so secretly�unless you were like Voldemort or something� They were just so opposite it
was scary.

On the one hand, Dumbledore was perhaps the most powerful
man in the world, and he acted as though he was still a child some of the
time. He was bright, a literal ray of sunshine. And then there was Snape, bleak and dark as a wintry, stormy day. He was
ill-tempered and disliked by almost every person with whom he ever came into
contact. It was an odd pairing, to be sure. But somehow, in the
grand scheme of the universe, it worked pretty well.

�Ah, my young students,� the headmaster said with uttermost
sincerity and calmness. �I see you have found yourselves a bit of trouble
in which to stir yourselves up. According to Snape,
you should all receive some sort of punishment. I believe a sufficient
punishment should be to give you knowledge.�

Snape cast a dry look at the
headmaster and seemed to desperately want to roll his eyes at something.
He settled for bringing Dumbledore some tea.

Dumbledore sat behind Snape�s
dark, oak desk, and Snape stood in the shadows behind
him. After a draft of tea, the headmaster looked up at the wide-eyed
students, and he motioned for them to sit. Draco
did his best to ostracize himself from the rest of them. He had to sit
next to Potter. This would be harder than he originally thought.

�Miss Weasley,� the headmaster
continued, �has been kidnapped by Lord Voldemort.�

A million shouted questions fired at once. Draco assumed it was because the Gryffindors
were worried and needed to make as much noise as possible to show that they
were worried. He and Zabini stayed silent and
watched. After the questions ended and the Creevey-boy,
Potter, and Thomas looked as though they were done, Dumbledore smiled again, a
small twinkle in his eyes as they flashed briefly on Draco.

�Good,� the headmaster said quietly as the noise died.
�A woman, at considerable danger to herself, has come forward offering
information leading to the whereabouts of Miss Weasley.
Last night she came to me personally and revealed plans made by Voldemort for the capture of Miss Weasley.
It just so happens that she has reason to worry about Miss Weasley
and has offered her services to help with our mission.�

�To save Ginny?� Potter asked in a low voice. Draco sneered and bit back a smart comment. �You have
to let us help, Headmaster. Ginny would do the same for us. You
have ��

�He doesn�t have to let you do anything, Potter,� Draco ground out, looking at Potter from under angry
eyebrows. �Don�t you think Voldemort would just
love that? Snag the Golden Boy and have his friend sire his beastly
brat. That would fulfill his wet dreams quite nicely, don�t you think?�

Potter looked at him with angry, green eyes and snarled,
�What can we do, just sit around?�

�You, Mr. Potter,� Snape said, in
a smoothly intimidating voice as he slunk from his shadows and wrapped his
robes around him neatly, �need do nothing. I think it would be prudent to
let professionals handle this little escapade.�

Dumbledore made a coughing noise, and Snape
settled back, a smirk touching the corners of his lips. Draco couldn�t help a snort as he glanced again at the
serious headmaster. �I fear, Harry,� he said calmly, �any assistance from
you would probably result in a larger issue than we need. Remus has already expressed his concerns about you, and
both of us think you should pass on this one.�

Potter closed his eyes for a moment, apparently thinking
this over. �I want to help, Headmaster Dumbledore. There must be
something I can do.�

The headmaster frowned and gave the impression he was deep
in thought. His brow was drawn tight in the expression of thoughtfulness,
and his normally glittering eyes took on a sharper, deeper expression. He
looked from Potter to Draco and then to Potter
again. �There might be one thing you could do for us, Harry.�

�Headmaster?� Snape said
cautiously. He looked at Potter for a moment and frowned. �You
can�t mean��

�Oh, no, nothing that drastic, Severus.
Tell me, Harry,� Dumbledore said, leaning across Snape�s
desk and looking over his moon-shaped glasses right at Potter, �how have you
been dreaming?�

There was silence in the room for a moment. Draco was the first to put two and two together and smiled
a small smile before looking at the headmaster. Dumbledore nodded at him.

�Molly Weasley,� Snape said quietly. �She�s still in Selene with Jeanette and the rest of the Sisterhood,
Dumbledore. They can�t be interrupted, not when they are so near to
discovering the mole.�

�Dorothea,� Draco corrected.
He and Snape shared a look before Snape
nodded.

�Yes,� Dumbledore affirmed.

�Sorry, did I miss something?� Potter asked as his eyebrows
rose.

The headmaster sighed deeply. �I think it�s about time
for you all to go to bed. It�s been a long night. Tomorrow, Harry,
I want you to come here after breakfast. I have someone you need to
meet. Mr. Malfoy, please join me for tea
tomorrow. I have someone for you to meet as well.�

Potter nodded, and Thomas, Zabini,
and the Creevey-boy left quietly. Draco stood, holding eye contact with Snape
for a moment and then following the examples of his peers. Snape would speak with him later.

Not ten minutes had passed before Snape
stepped out of his study and beckoned for Draco to
follow. He appeared solemn and a bit agitated. Draco
sat in the chair before him, the tall, high-backed oak, noting the headmaster
was nowhere to be seen. Snape sat across from
him, dark eyes boring into Draco�s.

�Malfoy,� he said in a dark, slow
voice, �do you know who has given us information about the location of Ms. Weasley?�

Draco shook his head.

Snape sighed and stood.
�Follow me, please.�

Draco stood and followed.

�Do you know what Mordred�s Castle
is?� Snape asked as he walked briskly down the dark
halls, his billowing robes clouding behind him.

�Mordred�s Castle is the enchanted
castle that Mordred, the evil son of Arthur of
Camelot, made his home. It is said to be one of the Seven Dark Places in
Europe. Mordred protected the castle with his
blood, pouring it into the very foundation; that is why it is so strong.
I went there in early August. It is a disgusting place,� Draco answered promptly, calling from the information he�d
read in one of Ginny�s texts. Ginny was surprisingly (or maybe not so
surprisingly) aware of black magic. Though she was aware of white magic
too.

Snape nodded sharply, turning a
corner and walking up a flight of stairs. Draco
followed. �Correct, Malfoy. Can you guess
why I asked you this?�

Draco only paused a moment.
�I know where it is, and you�ve never been there. No one has been there
for a very long time, except for the Dark Lord and his closest Death
Eaters. That is where Ginny is, isn�t it?�

�Correct again, Malfoy.�

Draco�s eyes moved to slits, and
he frowned slightly. �Professor, who told you where Ginny is? Who
could know that?�

Snape only stopped in front of a
blue and white door, the handle an ivory color. He looked sharply at the
door and then Draco. �At midnight, two hours
from now, a link from this room to your own will open through the
fireplace. Filch won�t be patrolling this corridor until one or two in
the morning, and the other Ravenclaws are safely in
bed two floors above you. I trust you are smart enough to realize what
will happen if you let information in this room leak to other parts of the
castle.�

�Professor?�

But Snape was already walking
away; his shoes clicked repetitively on the stone floors as he retreated into
the dark. Draco frowned, staring at the door
and then drawing his wand and stowing it in his sleeve for easy access.
He rapped upon the door three times and waited.

It was only a moment before he heard steps on the opposite
side of the door and the snap of the lock turning. Draco�s
eyes didn�t deceive him. His mother stood tall and proud in the doorway,
her platinum hair pulled back and her calm face curved in a genuine
smile. She looked happier than Draco had seen
her in years, perhaps ever. Her brilliant, crystal blue eyes shone with a
certain confidence that made Draco almost proud.

�Mother,� he said calmly, hoping his happiness was
detectible.

Her smile broadened, and she opened her arms. �Come, Draco, give your mother a kiss.�

Draco kissed his mother�s cheek
and let her lead him into the room. She was safe, safe from Lucius, safe from Voldemort, and
safe from the Death Eaters. He knew they would kill her if they found
out. When they found out. Lucius must
know by know; she must already be hunted. But she was safe at Hogwarts�

Then it dawned on him. She must have been the one who
told Dumbledore about Ginny. It made sense now; it was all coming
together.

�I�m glad you�re safe, Mother,� he said quietly, taking his
mother�s hand and squeezing it.

Because Sometimes It Hurts, Part III

At first it was like trying to see through thick
gauze. There were colors and lights, a bit of movement, or so she
thought. There were also voices, muffled and dry, nothing
comfortable. As her brain cleared, she became aware of an old smell, like
unwashed linen and dust. Raising a heavy hand, she groaned and felt the
crown of her head. There wasn�t a bump, but it was sore. She rubbed
her eyes and opened them again, her vision clearing. A light flickered in
front of her, a large stone fireplace. She groaned again and forced
herself into a sitting position.

The covers were heavy and old, she could tell, but there was
something uncomforting about them. Looking around her, she found herself
in a tower. The room was circular though large, and a window faced the
moon, rising high in the sky. The stars seemed dulled, but that could
have been the filthiness of the window. The stones in the room were old
and dark, as if they themselves were evil. And there was something wicked
about the place, something that made her skin crawl.

�Miss Weasley,� a voice purred
from the doorway.

Ginny jumped violently, and the fire roared in response to
her distress. She could hear a low chuckle from that direction, and her
fingers went instinctively to where she kept her wand. It wasn�t
there. Ginny bit her lip as the figure came closer; a sense of darkness
so overwhelming it made her ill came from him. Ginny�s eyes darted across
the room frantically, searching for something to use as a weapon.

�Come now, Miss Weasley,� the
voice said again, calmly and seductively. It sounded so much like�

�Draco?� she said softly.
Her heart was racing. It couldn�t be Draco,
could it? No, he was at school. She had left him at school, running
out to the grounds. What had happened? She had been hit with some
spell, something that had made her pass out, falling into the snow.

But the voice only chuckled again, and the figure moved into
the light. She was close, but it wasn�t Draco.
The hair was the same, only longer. The face was the same, only more
evil. The skin was the same, only a bit darker. It was close to Draco, and would have been were it not for the eyes.
�Lucius Malfoy,� Ginny
hissed, finding herself pinned to the spot under his cold eyes.

�Awake so soon, Miss Weasley?� he
said in a cool, court-trained voice. His movements were cat-like and held
an archaic grace to them, an archaic but malevolent grace. His hands were
open in mock concern, and his lips were twisted into something like a
sneer. �I wouldn�t have suspected you to wake until tomorrow at least.
But since you are up,� he continued, �perhaps some food and a bath would be in
order.�

�Perhaps an explanation would be in order,� Ginny spat, her
hands clenching the blankets angrily. �Or have you failed to notice
you�re holding me here against my will? Perhaps returning me to my school
would be in order.� She crossed her arms across her chest and glared at
him mightily, her eyes daring him to contradict her.

All she received in return was a light, sadistic chuckle and
a mocking smirk. �Come, come, Miss Weasley.
Is this any way for a guest to treat a host? And the lord was so looking
forward to meeting you. Don�t make me wash and feed you forcefully, Miss Weasley; I assure you that you wouldn�t enjoy it.�

Ginny bit her tongue to keep from snapping back something
smart. She wasn�t intimidated; she was merely cautious. She didn�t
know where she was, she didn�t have a wand, and she was probably surrounded by
at least twenty armed Death Eaters and, by the sounds of it, Voldemort himself. She closed her eyes for a moment
and relaxed. She could do this. They couldn�t kill her yet.
The longer she stayed alive, the longer she gave Dumbledore to save her.

When she opened her eyes, Malfoy
was a lot closer to her than she remembered. She flinched and looked at
him distrustfully. �I want my wand back, Malfoy,�
she said darkly, putting her hands on her hips.

He just laughed at her. �Follow me, Miss Weasley. Or have you failed to notice,� he said,
using her quick-tongued quip against her, �that you are in no position to be
demanding things?�

Ginny gritted her teeth and stood; her legs were a bit
wobbly. She held onto the bed frame for a moment, her head
spinning. She felt as though she would pass out. Darkness
surrounded her eyes; the light was fading again. A pair of cold, yet
strong arms circled her around the waist, and sickness flowed over her.
She looked up, tilting her drifting eyes past the broad chest she was propped
against to the face of the man in whose arms she was. There was something
in his eyes, something different. Ginny didn�t understand it, neither did
she like it.

�Let go of me,� she said weakly. Her voice trembled,
mostly out of anger, but partly out of fear.

�You�re too weak to walk by yourself, Miss Weasley,� Malfoy said smoothly,
his voice still cold and his eyes still confused.

Ginny�s head was clear now, and the darkness that came with
her lightheadedness was all but gone. The wrongness of the situation hit
her hard, and she pushed away from Malfoy with all
her remaining strength. �Strong enough,� she grunted.

But it appeared she wasn�t, for Malfoy�s
arms stayed firmly around her, not even fazed by her weak attempt for
release. He held her still against him, his cold eyes looking down on her
with terrifying acuteness. Ginny glared at him in what she hoped was a
fearless manner as his measured breaths hit her face.

Slowly, as if through water, he brought a hand to her face,
his long fingers brushing a lock of blood-red hair that had fallen haphazardly
into her eyes. He said nothing as he did it, merely looked into her eyes
in a disinterested fashion.

�Let me go,� Ginny said clearly, her eyes becoming angry.

Lucius Malfoy�s
gaze strayed to her cheeks, hair, and neck, resting on her lips. �You
look and act so much like the Fire, Miss Weasley,� he
said softly; his cold eyes never left her lips. �And though you strain to
be cold like the Wind, your attempts are dashed when the Wind only makes the
Fire burn faster. You are a flame, an eternal gatherer of those in search
of light.� His lips danced downwards to hers; Ginny�s eyes widened, and
her heart beat faster. �You just don�t realize that not all those you
call look for light, only warmth.� Malfoy�s
nose brushed against hers, and their lips met softly. �You are very warm,
Miss Weasley.�

He looked in her eyes once more, seeing the surprise and
anger, and backed away, his face confused and dark. Ginny could see his
breath coming quicker. Her eyes glanced towards the fire and saw it was
burning with warning snaps and crackles. She looked back at him and saw
he had placed his mask of coldness back on and his eyes were as hard as silvery
diamonds.

�Follow me, Miss Weasley,� he said
in a quiet, harsh voice.

Ginny followed. When he left her in the room, a warm
bath drawn magically, she scrubbed her skin until it was raw and in some places
bleeding. When she rose from the porcelain bathtub, she could see the
pink-tainted water, and she almost puked. Instead she put on a pair of
plain, black, form-fitting robes and waited for her hair to dry.

The Rules for Making Friends, Part II

Percy glanced down at his gold pocket watch in a bored
manner, flipped it up quickly, and stuck it in the right pocket of his black,
formal robes. Fifteen minutes late. How did people go around being
fifteen minutes late? Wasn�t it some sort of unspoken rule that you
arrived five to ten minutes early when meeting someone somewhere? Wasn�t
there some sort of social code? And when exactly was it that men stopped
picking women up for dates?

Twenty minutes late. Where was she? Had she no
sense of timing? She was supposed to be meeting him to gather
information, wasn�t she?

�Percy, darling!� the flamboyant voice of Marissa Mariner
called to him. She was wearing a sea-green pair of skimpy robes, her
sea-colored stiletto heels clicking loudly on the pavement. She wore a
silver pin in her hair with emeralds enough to buy food to feed a large Korean
village for a year. Percy could only shake his head and offer her his
arm. She took it gladly, smiling her white smile at him as he rolled his
eyes.

�What�s the matter, Perce?� she pouted, blue eyes widening
as she looked up at him through long, dark eyelashes.

�Have you any sense of timing, madam?� he asked; his voice
rose an octave unintentionally.

�Have you any sense of style?� she quipped, raising a dark
eyebrow at him. �Really, who comes early to a party anyway, Percy?
Haven�t you ever heard of being fashionably late?�

�Haven�t you ever heard of being dependable?� he
countered. He helped her up the stairs of Gringotts
to his personal Floo fireplace.

�Haven�t you ever heard of never answering a question with a
question?� she asked with a toss of her head as he opened the door for
her. She stepped in, Percy following her closely.

�Hypocrite,� he retorted.

�What are you going to do about it?� Marissa replied with an
air of supremacy as she gathered the pot that held the Floo
powder from Percy�s mantle.

�You never get tired of squabbling, do you, Ms. Mariner?� he
asked tiredly, wiping his brow with a white, gold-embroidered handkerchief.

�That�s another question.� She sighed, looked straight
at him, and set down the pot of Floo. She
frowned for a moment, straightening his suit and dusting off a bit of perhaps
invisible dust. �Now, Percy,� she said quietly, �tonight is going to be
particularly dangerous.� She looked toward the door, pulled out a scroll
of parchment and gave it to him.

He took it carefully. �Marissa,� he read aloud.
He looked at her, and she nodded, signaling for him to carry on. �I
require your services tonight at my estate in the south of France. My
servants will await you and Mr. Weasley, your newest
plaything, at Jean-Baptiste-Pierre Colombain�s estate. From that point, you will
accompany Mr. Weasley to my estate, and we will
continue the weeding process.

�The newest password is �servitude in the dark,� but you
will use the password �Et tu Brute.� It will
take you directly to me. Please let Mr. Weasley
find his own way around for an hour. I�m sure our friends will love to
meet him, as I do.

�With affection, your sister, Bella.�

Percy finished; his eyes went over the parchment again, and
they met Marissa�s dark ones. �Bellatrix Lestrange,� he stated.

�Yes,� Marissa said, tossing the parchment into the
fire. �Not by blood, mind you. She was what you would call a mentor
for me when I was young.�

�But you must have been no more than four or five,� Percy
said, his voice rising urgently.

�And two years ago, when she escaped, she came back to
finish her training,� Marissa spat. �The cow actually thought I still
idolized her.� Marissa rolled her eyes and then crossed her arms, looking
up at Percy. �She is one of the reasons I�m as close to Voldemort as I am. She is his principal plaything
nowadays, attending to his every whim and fancy. By convincing her, I
convinced him without ever having to meet him; quite effective, if I do say so
myself.�

�So you�ve never met him?� Percy asked.

Marissa only snorted. �If I had, I�d be dead.
I�m not so stupid as to rush into battle with the Dark Lord and think I�ll
escape scot-free like Golden Boy Potter. If I saw Voldemort,
I would attack, but I�d never live.� She looked sideways at him.
�That was a stupid question, by the way.�

Before Percy could speak, she went on. �Look, Perce,
you�re going to have to be careful tonight. They�ll try goading you with
your sister.� Percy�s face grew pink. �Stop! That�s exactly
what they�ll want, Weasley! Don�t be a prat about this; you know I�m telling the truth,� she said
when he glared mightily at her.

�Just listen,� she continued. �The easy way is to
pretend you are pleased with the fact that your sister could help the
cause. Keep thinking about all the awful ways all of them are going to
die when they get caught, when your cleverness sees them to the smallest cells
of Azkaban, to wake in their own terror every morning, live in their own pain,
and die in their own pathetic world. Keep thinking how all of them will
never get to do anything like this ever again, how they will be caught
forever. And whatever you do, keep
� your � cool!� She enunciated every word with a poke in the chest.

Percy let out a deep breath, nodded, and cracked a few
knuckles, a nasty habit he�d picked up in the office. Marissa was still
looking at him, her dark blue eyes piercing him deeply. Percy felt a
newfound respect for her. She was strong and well-trained, a master at
the game in which he was such a first year. She was hard, selfless, cold,
and composed � the antithesis of a Gryffindor. Marissa was born for the
game, or maybe the game was born for her or just Slytherins
in general. She was a marvel made of stone, and Percy respected her for
it. He felt a pang of regret for all the things he�d thought about her
when he didn�t know her.

�Marissa,� Percy said calmly, using for the first time her
given name and putting an uneasy hand on her shoulder, �you would have made an
excellent Gryffindor. I respect you; I just want you to know that.�

Percy was almost sure he saw a tear glisten in her dark
eyes. She smiled softly. �I suppose that was a compliment,� she
said with a teary chuckle. The smile on her face broke, and she became
more serious. �I respect you too, Percy; I just want you to know that.�

Their eyes met in mutual esteem for a long moment.
Then Marissa nodded, her face becoming business-like. �Enough
hanky-panky, Percy,� she said lightly, taking a handful of Floo.
�We have business to do. Remember your training, and all will be
well. This is just like every other gathering we�ve gone to, only you
just might die at this one.�

�Lovely,� he said dryly.

�Aw, kiss kiss, Perce,� she said
with a wink, flashing out of sight.

Percy stood still for a moment, reflecting back on what he�d
said. Yes, he meant every bit of it. Marissa was a friend now, a
real friend. Percy had very few real friends left. Two were dead;
the other was his wife. Now he had Marissa; he supposed she would be a
friend who would never leave his side. If he had to pick a person to be
with in a room of blood-happy Death Eaters, it would be no one other than her.

Gathering an ample amount of Floo
in his hand, he said, �Colombain�s Estate,� and was
whisked off to Southern France. Marissa was waiting for him with her
seductress�s mask pinned properly on her face. Percy held out an arm for
her, his face reverting to the snotty, I�m-better-than-you-and-I-know-it
fa�ade. He had become quite proficient at it over the past few months.

�Password,� a small, demure Frenchman asked as Marissa and
Percy entered a long corridor filled with hearths which stretched from the
fireplace they had arrived through.

Percy tipped his head toward the small man. �Servitude
in the dark, my good man,� Percy said in an utterly pompous voice.

�Through zat fireplace,� he
replied in his accented tongue. �Numbair sefon.�

Percy sneered and walked casually down the hall, his ears pricking
enough to hear Marissa utter, �Et tu Brute,� in her
breathy voice. Percy walked serenely through the fire and found himself
in the middle of a large, highly-populated room. All the wrong sort of
people flowed easily in that room, faking pleasantries and feigning
friendship. It was more a gala than a party, more elegant and
higher-class than a party.

�Ah, Percy Weasley,� a heavy voice
said to his left.

Simulating happiness, Percy turned to the portly man, held
out a hand � albeit an arrogant hand � and said loftily, �Morton!
Glorious seeing you here! How is Chevron? I�ve not seen him
since school.�

Morton Siguard laughed heartily,
shook Percy�s hand, and then sighed. �I like to think life in the Magical
Law Enforcement Department keeps Chevy busy. We�re expecting a promotion
to assistant director any month now, what with Isaiah in the condition he is.�

�Oh, yes, how is old Stoffington?�
Percy asked, his voice lowering with fake concern.

�Well,� Siguard said, lowering his
voice as well, as if he were divulging a juicy secret, �rumor has it his health
is failing. He can barely lift a quill, the poor old dolt. His
secretary claims he writes everything now and has for years. With his
hundred and thirtieth birthday this January, who can tell what may happen��

He let off with a sigh; then he straightened and clapped a
hand on Percy�s back. �But enough of Chevy, what of you? Where is
your lovely escort, Marissa? I must say she makes these parties worth
going to more than Monte over there. Never knows when to shut up, that
Simmons boy.�

Percy snorted. �Four years above me in school and I
knew more about most everything than he did. He was always a
disappointment.�

Siguard laughed in unison with
Percy, something Percy found rather upsetting. He played the game
anyway. With company like this, he had no choice. Siguard�s face contorted in something like amusement when
he spoke again.

�So how is your dear wife, Petunia?� he said lightly.
Percy could practically taste the threat laced into the words. Siguard was reminding him of his power over Percy, another
thing Percy found unsettling about the crowd with which he ran.

�Penelope,� Percy said proudly. �And big with
child. Twin boys, strong wizards both. I already received the
Hogwarts notice for both of them.�

Percy let Siguard chew on that for
a while. He knew he could say anything to Siguard,
and no matter whom Siguard told, or what he said, no
one would ever reach his wife. She was safer where she was than she could
possibly be anywhere else. She was in her home, safely under the Fidelius Charm with a Secret-Keeper so loyal to the cause
it hurt.

So while Siguard digested the
information Percy left him, Percy continued. �I can�t imagine what fatherhood
will be like,� he mused. �After all is said and done, I can only hope
they will grow up in a time of relative peace and prosperity.�

�Couldn�t have said it better myself, Percy,� Siguard said, smiling slyly. �Couldn�t have said it
any better.� The smile grew. �And the rest of the family?
Your parents? Your brothers? Your,� a delicious pause, �sister?�

Percy caught onto the game. So Siguard
was to be the person who tested his loyalty. The Whore�s Guarantee had
got him this far, and now he had to work his own magic, as it were. Percy
felt the room go quiet; the loud, boisterous talking died down to
whispers. A strange confidence fell over Percy, and he felt himself do
something he would hate himself for afterwards.

A smile broke onto his face, one he�d seen before and never
known he could imitate. �My sister�yes� I�m terribly proud of
her. I never knew she had it in her. Though I should have
suspected, after her first year at Hogwarts.�

�I should say so,� Siguard said after
a while, his mind apparently made up about where Percy�s loyalties lay.

The noise resumed, the inquisitor�s assurance lifting the
question off all the spectators� minds. Percy felt a wave of exhaustion
pass over him, and he caught himself from sighing. He had passed the
test, he was in, and now they would speak freely in his presence. No one
would suspect the ambitious Weasley boy of anything
other than wanting to get ahead and manipulating everyone to get there.
On one level, he was proud of himself, conquering them as he did. But on
another level, the Gryffindoric one, he was terribly
ashamed. He was at their level now, and he might never get the chance to
leave.

�Oh, Percy!� a sharp voice came from behind him. The
automatic smile painted itself on Percy�s face as he turned to the
speaker. �Oh, Per-cy!�

�Marissa, love,� Percy said quite loudly, kissing her cheek
unceremoniously and chuckling as she blushed.

�Oh, Percy, such a kidder.� Then her voice grew pouty, her lips pursing. �Percy,� she said, pushing
her chest out and looking at him invitingly, �I�m bored! I want to go
shopping!�

Percy almost frowned. That was code for, �We�ve got to
get the hell out of Dodge, if you know what I mean, because someone is about to
start something we don�t want any part of, so let�s get moving, you prat.�

�But Marissa, love,� Percy said. �We just got
here. What will be open at this hour?�

Code for, �What the hell is going on, you crazy bitch, and
why wasn�t I alerted of it sooner, because if you think I�m leaving now and
blowing my cover, you�re dead, bloody wrong.�

�Not if we�re in Russia, Percy,� Marissa simpered. �I
want the purple diamonds you promised me for Christmas.�

Code for, �I�ll tell you later, you pushy, little
Gryffindor, so get your arse moving out of
here. See that nice, little hostess? Beg off, you tart!�

�It�s not Christmas yet, doll,� Percy said. Marissa
was on the verge of throwing a temper tantrum, and everyone knew it. He
and Marissa were the center of attention at this point. �But,� he said
quickly, quelling Marissa�s fake temper, �I suppose, if that�s what you want.�

Marissa smiled, and Percy thought he caught a bit of relief
in that smile. Before he could say a word, the tweedy form of Jezebel
Parkinson, the hostess of the gala, came up to them, her graying hair curled
nicely upon her head.

�Oh, did I hear correctly, Marissa?� she said in a smaller,
yet no less slimy voice than Siguard. �Will you
be leaving so soon after you arrived?�

Marissa shrugged. �Percy and I don�t spend enough time
together as it is,� she replied. �You all want to steal his attentions
from me.�

Jezebel Parkinson smiled in what was supposed to be a kind,
knowing imitation of Percy�s mother and said to them fondly, �Well, have fun,
and do come over for tea on Monday, Marissa. We so miss your visits.�

With that, Marissa and Percy were making their way to the
fireplaces and safely to Gringotts. Percy
looked at Marissa automatically and set his face in a frown. She leaned
against the fireplace, breathing heavily; her head drooped.

�Marissa?� Percy asked.

Marissa looked at him with big, blue eyes. �I�m sorry,
Percy,� she said softly. �Your�your sister��

Percy frowned slightly, crossing his arms. �What has
happened, Marissa?�

She took a deep breath and then exhaled. �He has her,
your sister. She was the girl they were all looking for.�

Percy�s face went blank, his blue eyes sparking dangerously
in the firelight. Normally, Percy was able to control his anger.
Normally, he was able to cool it to think clearly. But he was also a
Gryffindor, and Gryffindors were not cool and
controlled. Gryffindors were not serene in the
face of danger. Gryffindors conquered. Gryffindors attacked. Gryffindors
were loyal.

His hands clenched in fists of rage, a frown growing on his
face as he stared at the fire. And then his wand snapped, and perhaps
something in his eyes did too. �My sister has been kidnapped by Voldemort. Let us go, Miss Mariner; we must avenge
this wrong.�

Marissa�s eyes went wide, and she latched onto his arm,
surprised to find he was much stronger than he looked. �Oh, no! Nononononononono! You aren�t going anywhere with
that attitude.�

�I will kill him, Miss Mariner,� Percy said with deadly
calm. �Now kindly let me go; I shall not be long!�

�We need to go to Dumbledore, Perce,� Marissa said.
�And how do you expect to fight with no wand, no back-up, and no plan, hmm?�

He looked at her as if it were the most obvious thing in the
world. �Why, I will kill them with my bare hands, Miss Mariner,� he
replied. �Now please step away from the Floo; I
will be back before too long.�

Then a smile broke onto his face, a smile Marissa had never
seen before, not even on the face of her enemies. It was filled with
confidence and power, and Marissa finally knew what it was to have ancient
blood awakened. The Weasleys were an ancient
house of witches and wizards; many fine men and women came from there.
And every once in a while, a witch or wizard from a great house would have
enough power or emotion to raise from their blood the powers of their elders,
and they became nearly invincible. True, most never lived with the power
in their blood for more than a half hour, but they were damn near unstoppable
during those thirty minutes.

But then there were some, the wizarding
world�s equivalent to a berserker, and they were warriors. It was said
that true Blood Berserkers could harness the powers of their ancestors and use
it for hours at a time. The trait was said to be hereditary, though few
witches and wizards had the gift nowadays. Arthur Weasley
was one of the Blood Berserkers from the first war against Voldemort,
and it seemed Percy would be too.

Marissa sadly drew her wand, knowing what she must do.
�I�m sorry, Perce, really I am. But I can�t let you do this; you�ll thank
me later.� She locked eyes with him for a moment and saw his power before
she had to look away. �Petrificus Totalus!�

He fell to the ground, hard as stone. Marissa let out
a sigh of relief and raised her wand again. �Mobilicorpus!� Percy�s body rose from the ground. �I�m sorry,
Perce, but it was for your own good,� she continued. �I think the
headmaster will be quite pleased to know we have another Weasley
Blood Berserker in the Ministry.�

A Pleasant Chat Among Old Friends

Draco Malfoy
drummed his fingers on the big, leather chair. The headmaster was just
looking at him. Of course it was unnerving. The most powerful man on
the planet was staring at him with his infinitely blue eyes and a wisp of a
smile on his face as if they were old friends. It was odd, but what was Draco going to do about it, ask him to stop?

With a pop and fizzing sound, a head appeared in the fire; Snape, who was sitting in the corner, jumped a bit.
It took Draco a moment, but he soon discovered it was
the head of Alastor Moody. How could he forget
the man that turned him into a ferret�or the face of the man that turned him
into a ferret�or whatever. His scarred face and glowing, blue eye were
slightly distorted by the flames, but there was no doubt the head of Mad-Eye
was in the headmaster�s office.

�Well, come in, Alastor,�
Dumbledore said amiably, making an inviting motion with his hand.

Moody merely snorted and rolled his good eye. �Right,
like Dorothea would allow me to come to Britain. Do you have any idea how
angry she is right now? It�s a nightmare!�

And with that an object (Draco
thought it was a knife of some kind) whooshed past Moody�s head, which ducked
at just the right time. �Damn it, woman! Calm down!�

At this point, Draco heard a loud,
screaming sound he thought was a person but wasn�t quite sure. They were
speaking a different language, and yes, he recognized it as Russian.
Moody answered in Russian, yelling right back; then he turned to
Dumbledore. �Look, Albus, I�m sure it�s
important � gods know we need to talk about the Weasley
girl � but unless you want Thea to break everything
in your office, I suggest you let me try to calm her down.�

�It�s rather important, Alastor,�
Dumbledore said, frowning. �It can�t be that bad.�

Moody let out a burst of sharp laughter. �Remember
that time you, Evangeline, Thea, and I were on a Hogsmeade weekend, you know, right after Thea transferred?�
Remember how we were eating and things started to spontaneously combust
outside? It really hasn�t changed. Only now, she likes to throw
things.�

Dumbledore frowned a little, his face thoughtful.
�Certainly it isn�t that bad anymore,� he pressed. �Couldn�t you drug her
a little?�

It took most of Draco�s willpower
to not laugh right then and there, but he did shoot his Potions professor a
look. This was quickly turning humorous. He forced his face into a
mask of professionalism. He was, after all, Head Boy.

Moody seemed to be considering what the headmaster had just
said, and Draco swore he could hear more yelling in
Russian. This woman didn�t seem happy at all; in fact, she sounded
livid. Moody yelled right back, his face turning a little pink when she
responded.

�Um,� Moody said, his face still a pinkish color, �she says
she�ll come, but only if�� He trailed off for a bit then coughed.
�That doesn�t matter. Stand back; we�re coming through. And, Albus�put away anything particularly valuable.�

Draco watched, amused, as
Dumbledore flicked his wand quickly. A few items disappeared altogether,
whereas some just relocated themselves on the front of his desk. Many
were breakable and shiny. Draco frowned but
then understood. Dumbledore would rather her break those things, so he
was making them easily accessible.

As Draco was about to ask a
question, a woman wearing a dress of pale green appeared in the room via Floo. She was short, barely five feet tall. As
far as her age, Draco couldn�t tell. By Moody�s
comments before, she should have been as old as Dumbledore, but she looked not
a day over forty�and a good forty, too. She had long, tightly curled,
midnight hair; a big streak of white was all that gave hint to her age.
Her face was smooth and young, but there were tiny lines at the corners of her
mouth and eyes. And her eyes�well, her eyes were the most haunting part
about her. They were very, very (very) angry.

�Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore!� the woman said in a thunderous
voice. �Do you mind telling me what the HELL happened here? Ginevra is
being cloaked! I can�t reach her! All I can do is sense her
presence! This is all your fault, you miserable old codger!�

Snape stood immediately, his face
stony and obviously ready to defend his headmaster. But this woman would
have nothing of it. She pointed a long finger at him and said sharply, �Severus Snape! You sit
yourself right back down! I�ve not even started with you yet!�

She turned on Dumbledore again, who was sitting, smiling
mildly at the strange woman. She picked up one of the particularly shiny
glass figurines and tossed it up in her hand. �Do you mind terribly, Albus?�

�Please, be my guest, Dorothea,� he said with a polite wave
of his hand.

The figurine flew into an obviously offending wall, only to
be followed by two or three other fragile objects. �Now you listen to me,
Albus �I-Know-Everything� Dumbledore! I�m
furious as hell, and the Sisterhood couldn�t possibly be more livid with
me! They are blaming me for Ginevra�s
disappearance, and now I�m blaming you!�

�Thea,� a solid voice said from
the fireplace. Alastor �Mad-Eye� Moody had
arrived in all his terrifying glory. �Please, this isn�t helping
anyone. Just sit down, and we will find a way to ��

�Don�t you tell me to
sit down, Alastor
Moody! I�m in NO mood for
your �sit and talk� bollocks��

As the green-clad woman continued her rant, Draco became increasingly aware of the silent conversation
between his headmaster and Potions teacher. Dumbledore gave Snape a subtle nod, and a grimace came across Snape�s face. But he procured a bottle, seemingly
from nowhere, and held it for the headmaster�s approval.

��And on top of that,
Alastor �I�m-Worse-Than-Freaking-Dumbledore� Moody,
half of it is your fault! What with your��

Dumbledore shook his head, and the bottle disappeared.
Snape polished off another vial and held it up for
the headmaster. Dumbledore nodded this time, and Snape
raised an eyebrow but took out a handkerchief and dabbed some of the liquid
onto the cloth, a small frown on his face. He tucked the vial safely into
his robes and rubbed the cloth on itself, standing surreptitiously.

��even if I thought that you could ��

The woman was cut short from her rampage by Snape coming around behind her and holding the cloth over
her nose for a short moment.

The woman stopped, her eyes glazing over and her hands going
to her nose. Then, almost docilely, she sat herself in the chair across
from the headmaster and smiled serenely. Draco
thought she looked much prettier when she smiled. �Oh, Albus, it really is nice to get things off my chest like
that. Oh my, I fear I may have overexerted myself. Have you any
tea? Lemon or herbal, lemon if you have it.�

�Sugar?� Dumbledore said pleasantly, securing a cup of tea
and sugar square over it.

�One, please,� she said, taking the cup from Dumbledore as
the sugar fell to the bottom. She took a sip and smiled genially at
Dumbledore.

Moody, however, let out a long breath and sank into a seat,
making a face at Dumbledore, who just smiled. �I owe you one, Snape,� Moody said in a cool voice. �Don�t get all
weepy on me though.�

�Quite,� was all Snape said in a
cool, professional voice, sitting down after tossing the handkerchief into the
flames.

�Ooooh! Is this the boy?� the woman in green said, her eyes big on Draco as if she just noticed him.

Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, �Yes, this is Draco Malfoy, Head Boy of
Hogwarts, also captain of the Slytherin Quidditch team, their Seeker, too. He�s a very good
lad, Dorothea. Mr. Malfoy, this is Dorothea Polinen, official representative of the Coven of Witches in
Britain and High Priestess of the Dreamweavers.�

�Nice to meet you, Madam Polinen,�
Draco said, albeit uncertainly, as he rose to his
feet, took the hand of Dorothea and kissed it.

�Oh,� she sighed, smiling at him graciously. �A nice Slytherin boy, it�s been a while since I�ve met any of
those. But look at him; he�s so scrawny! Draco,
dear, please put some more meat on those bones. Ginevra
must be horrified!�

Draco, wincing a little at her
jab, smiled casually and said, �That is what my mother tells me, Madam Polinen.�

Dorothea smiled at him again, turning to Dumbledore once
more. At this, Dumbledore continued, his voice calm but hard. �As
you all know, Ginevra Weasley
has been kidnapped. Currently, her mother, Molly Weasley
��

�Such a sweet woman,� Dorothea sighed.

�� is on commission with the Coven to locate the whereabouts
and doings of the Death Eaters and is indisposed. Her father is working
subvert missions for me in the Ministry and cannot be uprooted as of yet.
Her brother, Percy Weasley, is working on his
sister�s case alongside Marissa Mariner, his partner. And yet the only
one who could give us the location of Miss Weasley
was Mr. Malfoy�s mother, Ms. Black.

�My job is to organize a rescue and quickly. The
reason (and the only reason) Draco Malfoy will be assisting is because he is the only one with
knowledge of Mordred�s Fortress. As of yet, the
only conscripts for this mission are he and Severus.
Are there any takers?�

The room was only silent for a moment. Then a voice
from the fireplace spoke. �A lovely speech, Headmaster. But do you
mind terribly if we come in? Percy isn�t feeling himself, and, well, I
couldn�t exactly take him home after last night.�

A brief smile cut across Dumbledore�s face. �Ah, Miss
Mariner! Please! Please, join us.�

Out of the fire, closely following a nearly catatonic
red-haired Weasley, came one of the most beautiful
women Draco had ever seen. She was no Ginny,
but she had a different beauty than Ginny. She had Slytherin
beauty. Immediately, Draco felt akin to her.

�Professor Snape,� the young,
blue-haired woman said, �nice to see you again. And, oh, Alastor! Kiss kiss!
This must be Draco Malfoy,�
the woman continued, giving him a hard stare. �Hmn,
look an awful lot like your father, don�t you, D. M.?�

�Pardon?� Draco all but
coughed. He could feel his eyes bulging. �Have we met?�

The woman laughed a rich laugh, her deep, blue eyes
sparkling brightly. �Hardly. Though I have met your father on more
than one occasion. I�m Marissa Mariner. And I take it back; you�re
far more handsome than ol� Lucius!�

�Miss Mariner,� Snape said warningly.

Marissa sighed but calmed a moment. �Yes, Professor,�
she said in a completely submissive tone. Draco
immediately wondered what was between those two. Then Marissa let out
another sigh and said, �Look, I know this is a private meeting, but I couldn�t
put this through normal channels. There�s always a chance the message
could be received.�

�Good girl,� Moody said in a gruff, fatherly voice.

Marissa smiled at him adoringly. �And I�m sorry about
Percy here. He�s had a rough night. That and he�s a Blood
Berserker. Almost went off last night, had to knock him out with a pretty
powerful charm to keep him from his rampage. It makes him
dangerous. I think perhaps he�d be better in field work; he�s too
sensitive for undercover missions. Not that I don�t love him to death,
but Marcus and I worked together better. But I�m a bit off topic.�

�Another Blood Berserker?� Moody said admiringly, looking
over the Weasley boy. Draco
wondered ferociously what a Blood Berserker was. �I suppose he would be
better in the field. I will talk to Charlotte about that, Marissa.�

Marissa nodded her thanks; then she turned to the headmaster.
�I�ve got a bit more news for you, Headmaster. Um�can we speak freely
here?�

Dumbledore nodded. �This is Dorothea Polinen, our Coven representative. She can be
trusted.�

�We�ve met,� Marissa said shortly, sharing a glance with
Dorothea. �As I was saying, his sister, Ginevra
Weasley, has been captured by Voldemort.
She is the one they were looking for.�

�We know that already,� Draco said
with forced calm.

Marissa raised an eyebrow at him. �That makes the rest
of my explanation easier then. I�ll assume you know she�s at Mordred�s Fortress?� A nod from Dumbledore encouraged
her to continue. �Well, I suppose all you�ll want to know now is how many
guards there are, where they are stationed, when their changing times are, why
on earth Duncan Welsh is there, and who the new traitor to our cause is?�

�That would be helpful,� Dumbledore said pleasantly.

Marissa smiled. �I know. Now, where do we
begin?�
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