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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
- 18
- 19
- 20
ELEMENTAL

~by The Labris~

CHAPTER NINETEEN:

Caesar and Brutus, Jesus and Judas

The Prodigal Son, Part II�

There was an empty stillness about the room that Cassian didn�t like. Sweeping tapestries, dusty from
disuse, framed the large, dirt-caked windows. The floor was a cold,
gray-green stone covered in different, old rugs and run-down furniture.
The air even felt old when he inhaled. And Cassian
didn�t know where he was. Of course, he assumed he was in some fortress
in Eastern Europe, the weather and the accents of the people he�d seen
coincided with his theory.

Despite being a very young boy, Cassian
was a very smart boy. From the
moment that his mother had returned to power Cassian
had felt changes in himself. Whenever he was near her he felt like he was
tingling, and all he wanted to do was curl up in her lap like he used to and
let the pure power of her soul wrap around him like a warm blanket. He
couldn�t deny the pull he felt towards her. He had loved her before, but
he had felt himself become more and more attached to her ever since they were
staying in the white place together�the hospital she said. There was more
power in him now; he could feel it. His proximity to her, and her
willingness to share what she knew and felt of their shared Elements had, in
turn, made him more potent and dangerous. Cassian,
during their sharing, had seen memories of long ago, and had knowledge of
things in the past, but he couldn�t quite say how. There was a certain
difference in what he knew, and how he knew, now that she had lent him some of
her strength.

Cassian was no fool, he was
observant and he was intelligent. He also knew he was in peril. The
Death Eaters had overwhelmed him somehow. Something they did or said made
him weak, and since then he had been bound and wrapped in a heavy,
foul-smelling cloak. Even now there was something wrong, because the
power that he had become so aware of and so in love with, was no longer
accessible to him. His Fire and his Wind were all around him, in his skin
and in his soul, but he couldn�t touch it anymore�he could manipulate it.

He had felt things though, awful, painful things. That
made him cry and bleed and puke. He could feel her looking, searching,
probing for him, and she was angry. Sometimes he could feel her looking
for him, before the Death Eaters had taken him, and it felt good and full of
love. This was full of pain and hurt and anger, but not at him. The
anger was for everyone else.

That had been yesterday morning, and after that he had cried
for a long time, quietly and by himself. A man put food under Cassian�s door sometimes, grunting and muttering.
Sometimes Cassian ate and sometimes he didn�t.
But he knew that if he didn�t eat it would only be worse.

Voices were echoing down the corridors and Cassian scrambled away from the window to stand in front of
the door. He knew they were coming for him, because the guard had said
that the next time he came Cassian would have to see
the Lord, and Cassian thought that meant Voldemort. Cassian wasn�t
scared of Voldemort, though. The Dark Lord
couldn�t hurt him, not only because if he did, his mother would be very angry
and that would be bad, but Voldemort couldn�t hurt
him because Voldemort wasn�t powerful enough to.

Last night Cassian had dreamt a
vibrant dream in red and clear, and the Voice had told him that nothing would
be allowed to do bad. They were his mother�s mothers and fathers,
speaking to him from their dimension. They told him many things, and some
were hard to understand in English, but Cassian knew
them in the other language that his mother could speak in. It was what
she called her tongues. His mother could speak in snake and speak in Wind
and speak in Fire, and also in English. This was very talented Cassian thought. The Voices of Wind and Fire had said
they would protect him, and that his mother had disappointed them, but he would
be much better. They said his mother had been tainted by something along
the way, something dark and evil, but Cassian would turn
out better and more special. The Voices said that Voldemort
wouldn�t be able to hurt him at all.

As the people outside his door came closer Cassian stood straight and unafraid. They couldn�t
hurt him either. The door clicked open and there was a very tall man with
sallow skin and dead eyes, along with his mother. Well, she had red hair
and glittering golden eyes, and her skin and face were the same.

�Cassian! My darling!� his
mother said, rushing him with wide-open arms and a teary smile. But even
before she touched him and even before she had said his name, Cassian knew that this was not his mother. He
considered saying something, but he wondered if that was a good idea.
What would the Dragon Man say? The Dragon Man said that Cassian was smart, that he was such an intelligent boy, and
so clever. Cassian thought the Dragon Man was
right; he was smart and clever. He would say nothing. Better they
underestimate him so he could escape easier. The Dragon Man would be
proud of him.

The woman didn�t even smell right, but Cassian
pretended she did and put his arms around her neck and said, �Mother,� in a
small voice to placate her. She put him down and kissed and hugged him
more, told him that she missed him and that she would take him away with her as
soon as she could. Then she took him by the hand and led him down the
hall, the tall, dark-eyed man following closely behind.

Though the halls of graying stone, Cassian
tried memorizing the doors and turns, but there were so many that he almost
couldn�t. Everything looked the same. He stared up at the woman for
good measure, trying to look innocent and ignorant. The woman smiled and Cassian wanted to reach out to her with his powers, but
whatever was in this place didn�t allow that.

Soon Cassian was entering a great
hall, listening to the woman talk quietly, telling him to be respectful and
answer all questions with �my lord,� or, �sir.� Voldemort
wasn�t Cassian�s lord, so he would call him sir even
though he didn�t want to.

The man called Voldemort wasn�t as
Cassian had expected. In fact, he wasn�t how
his real mother had told him at all. His mother had called him a monster
with pale skin and red eyes, a flat, snakish nose and
long, blue-veined fingers. This man was relatively young, maybe younger
than his own mother, and had very bright, almost malicious blue eyes. His
skin was pale, but not sheet-white, and he held himself with an odd mix of
confidence and civility. He at the foot of his ornate seat was a large,
long snake with grotesque eyes and a blunt nose. Its pink-red tongue
flicked the air, and Cassian knew it was smelling for
his fear.

�This is my son, my Lord,� the redheaded woman said with a
deep bow. Cassian noted that his own mother
would never bow to any man, and it made him angry that this woman would so
woefully slander the name of his real mother. �Cassian,�
she continued, rising from her bow. She pushed Cassian
forward a bit, and then backed away, leaving Cassian
to walk forward several steps in approach of the Dark Lord.

�Do you know who I am, boy?� he asked with a pleasant,
though perhaps a bit disdainful, voice. It wasn�t at all high-pitched or
effeminate like Cassian�s mother had said. It
was rather nice to listen to, flexible and agreeable.

Cassian nodded. �You�re Lord
Voldemort, sir.�

The man nodded and with a gesture of his hand a chair sped
under Cassian�s legs and he found himself seated,
legs dangling, before the Dark Lord. �Tell me, is Ginevra
Weasley truly your mother? And who is your
father?�

The boy blinked at him, and then answered in a slow,
childish voice. �My mother is Ginevra Weasley. My father is Draco
Malfoy.� His mother thought Cassian
didn�t know, but how couldn�t he?� Who
else could the Dragon Man be than his father?�
Looking at that man was like looking into the future.� He played along for his mother, but yearned
for the day when he could name Draco Malfoy, the Dragon Man, for his father.

The dark-haired man frowned, an odd, stretch of an
expression on his face. Cassian found, the more
he looked at this man, the more he realized that the man wasn�t comfortable in
his own skin. It was as if he hadn�t worn anything for a while�a
wandering spirit, evil. �Do you know why you�re here, boy?� the man asked
softly.

Pausing, Cassian nodded. The
Voices had told him that too. �So someone will come and get me, sir.�

At this Voldemort smiled,
something equally as odd on his rubbery-fake face. His hands formed a
steeple in front of his face. �My, aren�t we a clever boy! Tell me,
who would I want to come here? Who would want you that I also want?�

Since his intelligence seemed to amuse the man, Cassian decided on a different road. Perhaps he would
gain more privilege, thus opportunity to escape, if he could charm his way to Voldemort�s good side. It would be hard, Cassian knowing that this man had no feelings. The
Dragon Man said to use his intelligence and cunning, and that was what Cassian intended to do.

�You want Harry Potter to come, sir,� Cassian
said, smiling innocently. He wanted Voldemort
to know he was willing to please, and probably overacting wouldn�t hurt.
�Sir?�

�Yes, boy?� Voldemort said with
interest.

�You want my mother to come here, too,� Cassian
frowned up at the redheaded lady. �Because, sir, she isn�t my mother.�

At this Voldemort laughed, a
terrible, false laugh, Cassian thought. He
slapped his knees almost jovially and with a flick of his wand Cassian saw through the disguise. The woman turned
from short and redheaded � his mother � to a taller, more slender woman with
short, black hair, pale, flawless skin, and dark blue eyes. She had an
ugly expression on her face, and her button nose was turned up slightly, her
distaste for the situation apparent.

�It appears your job is done here, Miss Parkinson,� Voldemort cooed. The woman turned sharply and left
the back of the room in a huff. She may have been upset that Cassian saw through her disguise, or that she�d been made a
fool. Either way it elevated Cassian in Voldemort�s eyes, and that was a good step forward.
�You are a very clever little boy, aren�t you?� Voldemort
mused. �I have a feeling you and I will grow to like each other,
boy. Yes, you have great things in store for you yet��

Cassian wanted his mother.

The Barter System

Draco had been the first to wake
up in the blistering cold that midmorning. His cloak was soaked through
and he was shivering. He might even have frostbite, but he wasn�t going
to check until there was a fire. There was a thin, measly-looking grove
of trees breaking the monotony of the Highlands. Draco
drug Ginny�s body as far as he could before a short rest. His whole body
ached something terrible, and he wasn�t accustomed to this sort of pain.
But he was accustomed to pain, and he made his weakening body carry Ginny�s to
the grove and set her down in the snowless center of
the trees.

He used his wand to light an artificial fire in the
center. This was a spell he�d learned in the auror
business; it was warmer than normal fires, didn�t go out in rain, wouldn�t let
up smoke, and didn�t use wood. Draco was fairly
sure that Ginny wouldn�t need the fire, but Draco
sure as hell did and he cast a drying spell on his clothes and took his boots
off to warm up his feet a bit.

Looking at Ginny from across the fire, Draco
began having second thoughts about finding her. Potter wasn�t there,
which was odd, but Draco didn�t feel sure of himself
around her. She scared him in a way, and he didn�t like it. Perhaps
he should leave her here and go off on his own� She would probably find
him though, because from here on out he was on foot. He couldn�t find his
broom after he fell, and unless he wanted to risk discovery by either Death
Eaters or the other aurors he was positive were
looking for them, he had no choice but to do it the old fashioned way.
Maybe when he was stronger he could go out and find his broom. It made Draco wonder how Ginny got out here�

Soon Draco was dozing again, so he
put his boots on and leaned against a thin tree, gazing over the fire at
Ginny. He wasn�t really sure how hard he had hit her, and he was sorry
he�d had to do it. With the pain and the urgency of it all he couldn�t
think of anything better at the time, and he could only hope Ginny didn�t
remember it. Sighing, he pulled out a bit of jerky that he always kept on
him for just such an occasion and looked up at the sky. It was darkening
again, with thick, gray clouds crowding out the sun and sky. It would
snow before the afternoon was over, Draco was sure of
this.

Just as he was finishing the dried meat, Ginny moaned and
stirred, her eyes moving under her eyelids. Slowly her eyes opened; big
golden, metal orbs, so intent on the fire rolled back in her head once, twice,
and then stayed put. She moved herself to a sitting position and fixed
him with an unreadable look. What was she thinking? Draco wondered.

For a few moments she just breathed. Finally she drew
her legs into comfortable pretzel imitation and rested her elbows on her
knees. Licking her lips, she spoke clearly. �What are you doing
here?�

Draco didn�t answer directly, but
instead took out an elegant, silver flask and took a light sip of fiery
alcohol. It helped his head. �I�m going to get my son back.�

She sighed and looked away, her mouth twitching. Draco could tell she was holding something back. He
knew her too well to think she wouldn�t question him.

�I thought he wasn�t your son,� she whispered. It
carried injured tones back to Draco across the fake
fire.

�Bloody hell, woman! Of course, he�s my son!
Have you looked at him? Whose son could he possibly be?!� Draco barked gruffly, taking a more liberal swig from his
flask before looking away into the trees as well.

�Well �� But Ginny stopped and folded her fingers in
front of her crossed shins. She inhaled and exhaled loudly and then spoke
again. �I don�t need your help. Go back home. Go back to your
job. You�ll just slow me down.�

Draco turned and met her hard eyes
effortlessly. So this was how it was going to be. �I�m the fucking auror here,
Ginny. And I�ll do whatever I damn well please. �Especially
concerning MY son!�

�I don�t want to fight you on this, Draco!�
Ginny growled, their conversation heating up another level as she stood and
crossed her arms across her chest.

�I�m the one who has the wand, Ginny!� Draco
replied, standing weakly and brandishing his wand.

She frowned at him, crossing the fire to poke at his chest
accusingly. �And whose bloody fault is it we�re here at all?! Hm, Draco!? If you�re
stupid auror professionals hadn�t let Cassian get away we wouldn�t even have to worry about it,
would we?!�

Draco grabbed her offending hand
and bent down so his eyes were level with hers. He tried to look
intimidating. Intimidation was what helped him survive all these years,
surviving off others fear of him. It had kept him cold and distant to
others, so he couldn�t feel and couldn�t hurt anymore. At this moment, Draco discovered it didn�t work very well with Ginny.
The problem wasn�t that he felt, it was that the feeling hurt.
�That. Isn�t. My. Fault.�

Tearing her hand away, Ginny made a screaming sound and
turned from him, her arms flying above her, exasperated. �My son is
kidnapped! Who ��

�HE�S MY SON, TOO!!!� Draco bellowed, his energy waning again. He kept up
the mask, perhaps just for the sake of tradition. Everyone in his family
wore it, why shouldn�t he take it up as well?

�THEN WHERE WERE
YOU???!!!� she screamed back, turning to him again in a fury. Her
eyes were wild and angry, bright with tears, and her hair glinting like spilt
blood over her pale skin.

Grabbing hold of one of the sickly trees, Ginny leaned back,
her knees shaking.� Draco,
without delay and as swiftly as he could in his condition, leapt to her side
and held her up. His hand around her waist and looking down into her
metallic eyes, Draco saw the anguish he felt inside
himself. Stuck, propped between the tree and Draco,
Ginny struggled at first, clawing at this chest weakly before giving up her
useless fight.

�Our son,� Draco conceded, his
voice harsh despite the warmth of his words. Ginny�s unearthly eyes gazed
up at him, half in amazement and half in something Draco
thought he had forgotten.

But Draco couldn�t do it. He
couldn�t become weak again. He would most certainly die again, just like
he had. And she was Potter�s now. Not his. Gently, Draco settled Ginny onto the ground and returned to his
side of the fire. For a long while Draco
watched Ginny heave in great sobs.� When
she began to still Draco looked away.

Their silence stretched like an ocean, uncertain to sail
on. But Ginny was the one to break the silence with a startling
revelation. She inhaled and cleared her throat. �Since we�ll be
doing this together, I suppose there�s something I must tell you.�

�What�s that?� Draco grumbled, not
hot on the fact that Ginny was there in the first place.

She looked at him sideways, half frowning, before she
continued. �I know where Cassian is,� Ginny
revealed. That caught Draco�s attention.
�But there�s a catch,� Ginny said quickly. It was too good to be true, Draco thought humorlessly. �I made a trade � finding Cassian for something I held very dear to me��

�What?� Draco asked.

�My� There�s no easy way to answer that question, Draco,� Ginny said softly, looking intently at the fire and
not at Draco.

�We�ve got some time before we�re strong enough to
continue,� Draco noted, taking out his jerky again and
offering her some. Ginny accepted and chewed for a few minutes before
continuing. Her face looked pained, as though she were revealing a truly
gruesome secret.

�You know I�m an Elemental, Draco,�
she started. �I�ve never made it a secret that I�m a special kind � Fire
and Wind. A while back�almost five years exactly, I made a sacrifice, Draco��

She stopped again, chewing thoughtfully before she started
back up. �There�s more than just our dimension, Draco.
The ones the Elements, our parents, live in is much different than ours.
But since their beginning and ours there has been a power struggle. When
I was in my sixth year the Elements told me, when I met Fire and Wind, that I
was to be a weapon, but I didn�t know what that meant. I accepted�a few
months after that.

�How could I not!? I would have been killed! I
would have died if they hadn�t put me under their protection! I was
stranded and alone, and I�d just barely lived to escape from Riddle� I
had no choice. I became what you see now, what they wanted me to be�an
Element but more�but special�Fire and Wind��

Draco watched her in amazement as
she poured out her story, now seemingly oblivious to his presence.
�That�s how Welsh trapped me. He trapped by Element soul�that was a dark
spell he used, too powerful for my new powers to overcome. My limitations
led to my capture�

She had stopped, as if lost in some memory Draco would never have. Her face was calm, but
strained by the pain of her memories.� Draco was entranced once again. It was like watching
her write, listening to her. This is what she would write in their books,
and now he could hear it.

�Even though I was an Elemental at the time, captured by
Welsh, the baby we made, Cassian, was still
human.� I was supposed to change him,
remove his human soul and create another Elemental, one not bound by this husk
body you see.� But Welsh�s spell
prevented me, and there wasn�t anything the Elements could do about it.� So Cassian was
born, and so much more powerful than I had been in my human body.� He was more pure, but not completely an
Element as he should have been.

�The Elements are patient though, and they have found a way
to have him.� They aren�t benevolent and
great. They�re manipulative and cunning, not evil, but not good.
They�re�almost human themselves I sometimes think.

�I know where Cassian is now
because they know, and I made a pact with them�like my own mother was forced to
do� traded what they gave me so long ago for that knowledge.� She looked
strained again.� �When I save Cassian, they will�remove themselves from this husk
body�and I will just be a husk.� No soul,
no Elements, nothing.�

Draco absorbed this with a stone
face, though he raged within.� �You�ll
die.�

Ginny shrugged.� �I
will be a body without a soul�I should have known better than to take what they
had to offer. I should have died five years ago...�

�Then Cassian would never have
been born,� Draco murmured.

Ginny looked at him sharply, her eyes appearing to see him
for the first time. She stared at him with her blank expression for a
moment or two more, then nodded. �No�then Cassian
wouldn�t have been born.� She sighed and turned her head to the
sky. �For most of my life there have been two souls inside my body,
fighting for a place.� One was human and
the other Fire and Wind.All this time, no matter how
hard the Elements tried, there were always two souls inside my body. One
was human and the other Fire and Wind,� she said, laughing bitterly.� �Now I won�t have anything at all.�

�I won�t be much more use to you, you see, Draco? The moment I touch Cassian
all my Elemental soul will be gone, and I will be completely gone. Cassian, of course, will be a pure Element then, no human
at all. Is that wrong? I have sacrificed him to the Elements to
keep myself alive and save him. He will practically be their
servant. Did I�� she swallowed, looking at him earnestly.
�Did I do wrong, Draco? Please�tell me.
My baby�have I saved him or just killed him more slowly.�

Draco again stared at her
intently. She hadn�t changed so much. Still young, centuries
younger than him, and so full of emotions he couldn�t have anymore. He
needed that from her, to be able to watch her feel, like he had. And he
had been brave then, too, and joined in. Could he again?

�I�ll never let that happen to him, Ginny,� Draco assured her. �You didn�t do anything
wrong. You did nothing wrong. We�ll find a way out of this; I�ll
assure you.�

For a long, long time they were quiet. The wind was
all that could be heard, and the snow whistled down silently, most of it
blocked from them by the thin-boned trees. If Draco
closed his eyes, if he imagined with all his mind, he could almost imagine the
two of them, in his Head Boy rooms, enjoying each others� soft peace, no words
spoken�just love.

�I wonder,� Ginny whispered, mostly to herself. Draco heard it though, but didn�t respond.

After that, to conserve their strength, the both of them
slept until nightfall.

Caesar and Brutus, Jesus and Judas � She Calls Herself Righteous, Part
II�

Not many females ever made it into the ranks of the Dark
Lord�s forces. It was mostly because men who joined the Death Eaters,
dark wizards, had other faults, such as being sexist, heathen pigs. Perhaps
being a heathen wasn�t so bad � her family, after all, was old enough to have
roots in the ancient heathen magic. Just barely though. More often
than not, these �dark wizards� looked down on females as the weaker sex.
They weren�t capable of power or cruelty � just making babies and looking
pretty. Having succeeded in looking pretty most of her life, this �dark
witch� decided that instead of making babies like her mother would have loved,
she was going to be a whore to the Death Eaters and eventually join their
ranks.

Perhaps she was too ambitious for even a Slytherin,
but Lord Voldemort liked that. He also enjoyed
demeaning women, as Bellatrix Lestrange
had warned her before her fortunate death. Now SHE was the sole female Death Eater � at least in Britain, that
is. She may not have excelled in school, and she may not have succeeded
in some of her battles there, but she was still smart, still ready to tackle
any challenge and prove herself better than the men.

But she had lost again. They would have called it her
womanly weakness. And she would willingly accept this brand of
insufficiency from her former colleges. They truth was, deep down, down
in the heart she had so long though had frozen over, Pansy Parkinson was still
a female. She had survived so long on cold femininity, and it had raised
her above the other Death Eaters, because this sort of thing intrigued Voldemort. But Pansy couldn�t, or, more aptly,
wouldn�t, put on that mask any more � figuratively and literally.

Admittedly, it had been the boy. Such a small boy,
fragile, and angelic-looking. Long, beautiful blond hair, startlingly
copper-gold eyes, and fair skin, just as pale as the morning snow. He had
light, almost indistinguishable, freckles on his nose, perhaps just five of
them. Cassian he was called. CASH-un. CAAASH-unnn.
Such a perfect name for the boy. No doubt he was a Malfoy.
If you couldn�t see that you weren�t only a fool, but a blind fool.

He had wrapped his slender arms so trustingly around her neck,
like a china doll, his thin lips painted on with pearly pink. Pansy loved
him; she just couldn�t help it. There was something about that boy,
something magically motivated, drawing to her soul. When he looked in her
eyes it was as if a spear of a thought passed between them. You and I, it seemed to say.

Pansy then knew that he knew � even though she was under the
enchantment to look like his mother, he knew she was not. He really was,
as Voldemort had called him, a clever boy. Any
son of Malfoy had the right to be this clever, and
Pansy adored him for it. Even when she was disgraced before the Dark Lord
Voldemort, when she was forced to turn herself in
shame from the door for being revealed as a failure, Pansy couldn�t bring
herself to hate the five-year-old who had played her so masterfully.

She was ill disposed to resist little boys in the first
place. If her son had lived he would be almost as old as Cassian, perhaps a little older. But he was dead�or
had been killed. Probably killed by his father�whoever that was.
When Pansy was younger and still trying to join the ranks it really didn�t
matter to her who she had to sleep with. One of her potions or their
charms probably was faulty and she�d gotten pregnant that way. She
claimed prolonged sickness for five months after she�d found out and had her
baby boy in secret. She was going to get out of the game and raise him as
her own�she would have run away to Bulgaria �she had family there that was
neutral�

His name was Hector. Hector Malone Parkinson.

Someone had found her, she didn�t know who because he was
wearing a mask, and he had killed Hector. It almost didn�t matter, but
whoever they were never said a word, just took Hector and left. Someone
had obviously found out she had been pregnant and feared it was their
child. Pansy hadn�t even cried when the nameless bastard took
Hector. She didn�t even go after him. She�d never cried for him�

But someday she would.

Sighing, Pansy leaned against the cold, stone wall outside
the closet of her room. She didn�t have any need to be here
anymore. This wasn�t where her challenges laid anymore. Touching Cassian was all it took for her to realize this, his cool
skin on her neck, speaking to her more than the three words that tumbled from
his lips. You don�t need them,
he said. You don�t need any of
them. Look what you could have�right before you. You could have a
child.

At first Pansy had felt like a traitor to herself.
After all the work she had done, after all she�d sacrificed, she was willing to
throw that all away to be a mother! Would she simply pop out a few kids
for a nameless fool and have to pretend to be happy for the rest of her
life? Would she have no more challenges, no more opportunities for
greatness, no more delight in power? Would she lose all of her freedom
just for the sake of a little boy or girl looking up at her with wide, honest
eyes that said, Mother, I love you?
Would she?!

And deep down she knew the answer. Yes. Because
it shouldn�t be about the power, or dominion over all wizarding
kind, or pureness of blood. It should be about making a world where
children could be safe � where all people could be safe. Voldemort was proposing killing, yes. Pansy had
killed. She killed full-grown men and women during her times on the
battlefield, and once or twice on the command of her lord and master. But
she would never � could never � kill a child. And even the thought that a
child, an innocent, might have to die ripped her frosty heart out.

So yes, now Pansy was weak. All her strength pulled
out by a five-year-old boy with chilly skin. Pansy was a traitor to her
kind, and she could no longer face the Death Eaters in her humiliation.
She was a failure one final time.

But there was a way to redeem herself. She had known
some that did it. That girl with the deep blue eyes�Pansy had hated her
with everything she had left. It wasn�t because she was a rival in the
circles of the Death Eaters, but the gods knew she was. This girl had
been so much more beautiful than Pansy could ever be. Long, blue-black
hair, slender build, and frightening blue eyes � she was something every man
desired, and a valuable companion for any man as well. Before she had
been revealed as a spy, she had been running about with some Weasley, pretending to gather information from him and lead
him over to Lord Voldemort�s side.

She had taken with her Flint � Marcus Flint, a boy a few
years ahead of her in Slytherin. Pansy
remembered him with a shudder. But, as it turned out, he had been a
traitor, too. Pansy had always hated them; she had hated them because
they betrayed Voldemort. No one betrayed the
greatness of the Dark Lord Voldemort! �They did
though, and they were free of him�

Freedom�Pansy would be free of him now, too. She was
disgusted with herself for even thinking about this infidelity. It
occurred to her that the training went deep, and she was disgusted with herself
for being so easy to blindside and fool. Swallowing hard, Pansy pulled
out her prized broom from her closet. She packed no extra clothes � there
would be no room. She took only her wand and a thin parchment.

Besides Cassian, this was probably
the most important symbol of her duplicity, her betrayal of Voldemort
to�to Dumbledore. It was impossible to save Cassian
right now, or maybe ever, for he was under the guard of Lord Voldemort personally. But Pansy could take the heart
of this operation with what she had just tucked into her bra.

Slowly, as if she was supposed to be doing so, Pansy left
her room, broom in hand, and headed towards the large windows at the end of the
corridor. No one was around, and she opened the windows with her wand,
getting more and more edgy as they screamed in protest. A stifling wind blew
out of the darkening sky and into the fortress that Voldemort
had procured. She wrapped her mink-lined coat around her face and hopped
on her broom. It was a Nimbus 5000, and it was her baby. She glided
out the window and was almost pushed into the wall adjacent from where she�d
escaped. She drew her wand out with a gloved hand and closed the window
carefully.

And then she flew like her life depended on it. And it
did. If anyone caught her before she made it to the Ministry, either auror or Death Eater, they would kill her, and probably
torture her, too. She knew better than to Apparate
though, Voldemort would be at her side faster than
you could say, �Avada Kedavra.�
Since she didn�t know how to make a Portkey and she
wouldn�t know where to program it anyway, she could either walk or fly, and she
was much more faster on a broom, though perhaps more noticeable. Her
magical overcoats were charmed to keep her warm, as were her boots, gloves, and
cap, but her face was still freezing. Pansy would give her kingdom for a
fire.

Flying southward she began to pass over small towns and
villages, so she soared above the cloud-line and was almost blinded by the
light of the moon. She pressed onwards for the better part of three
hours, before she decided to stop down below the clouds for a while. She
saw she was directly on target, soaring over Muggle
London. Muggles couldn�t see, but from the air
there were guide marks to important locations, like Diagon
Ally, Gringotts, and the Ministry.

Pansy purposely landed several miles away from the Ministry
landing station and shrunk her broom before briskly walking towards the
Ministry. She wouldn�t attract too much attention this way, and since it
was a dark night and she was alone, they might not notice her. Especially
if she landed in the Muggle area of London. But
the closer she got to the Ministry, the more witches and wizards she saw.
They were carefully blended in, but she noticed them. Muggles
wouldn�t. She stuffed her hands in her pockets and tucked her midnight
hair under her cap, bringing it down to shade her eyes.

Unfortunately, Pansy was caught off-guard by a very large
black man, an auror by the look of him, who covered
her mouth and manhandled her all the way into the Ministry. It was warm,
and Pansy thought it was one way to get where she was going, but she was still
indignant. To her obscene good luck, the man was too old to know who she
was, and since Death Eaters wore masks in battle, he wouldn�t have recognized
her anyway. Once he had shoved her in the main hall, she noticed there
were tons of aurors, busily chattering or yelling,
all seeming to have jobs to do. It looked to Pansy as if�as if they were
evacuating.

�Lady! What the hell do you think you were doing out
there?!� the man shouted, grabbing hold of her shoulder, and shaking her a
bit. He pulled the warm hat off of her head and stuffed it in her hands,
presumably so he could see her face. Pansy swallowed and fought the urge
to curse him for his impudence. But that wasn�t the way of the
Ministry. That was the way of the Death Eaters. She wasn�t one of
those anymore. �Haven�t you been stationed at Hogwarts or Selene yet?�

�I�ve been out of the country,� Pansy replied slowly.
�I returned to be with my family�I don�t know where they are.�

Pansy had to think fast on this one, because she was either
going to have to tell him she was part of a family important enough to stay at
Hogwarts, so she could see Dumbledore, or she was going to have to hex him and
try to fight her way to Dumbledore. Pansy doubted, with all the
experienced aurors about, that the latter was even a
plausible option. But before she could name a family, her plans were
stopped dead in their tracks by an unbelievable oaf with red-on-red hair and a
dubious look on his face.

She was straightening her hair, about to answer, when a loud
voice broke her thoughts up. �PARKINSON!?�

In the next three seconds every auror
had his or her wand draw and pointed it at Pansy. Pansy, on instinct, had
her wand drawn too and had kicked out the knees from under the tall black man,
her arm holding out his breath around his neck and her wand pointed at his
temple.

Of course, Pansy recognized the man who screwed up her
perfect � well, admittedly they weren�t that great � plans. He was a Weasley in her year at Hogwarts�Ronald Weasley�sidekick
of Harry bloody Potter. And, what joy, the Boy Who Lived was there as
well. A fine hole she had herself in now. She would probably die,
and then they would find the parchment in her brassiere and regret it, but not
so much because she was evil anyway. Well, she wasn�t giving up without a
fight.

But, once again, some goody-goody auror,
Potter, screwed up her newly formed kamikaze plans and said in a calm, soothing
voice, �Look, Parkinson, you don�t have to do this. Just put the wand
down. We don�t want to have to hurt you.�

If Pansy hadn�t been so insulted by the insinuation that she
was an errant child and not a full-grown, evil witch with a wand, she could
have kissed him for her easy out. But on top of that thought being just
plain nasty, Pansy was too prideful to go that way.

�You are all making a VERY
big mistake,� she warned, trying to save her skin while not appearing weak at
the same time. She wished she could shoot her pride.

�Okay, why don�t you explain it to us then,� Potter said
softly. Pansy rolled her eyes as he continued. �We�ll talk about
this like civil human beings, we�ll even get you tea. Just let Shacklebolt go��

Though she was of small stature, Pansy had been trained
well, and keeping this black man, Shacklebolt they
called him, from escaping her grasp was fairly easy. Her knee was in his
back and she was cutting off just enough oxygen so that he could stay conscious
and still not be strong enough to fight her. Pansy closed her eyes for a
moment. She didn�t have to do this. She didn�t have to be like
this. Tears came to her eyes when she thought of how painful her death
would be. She didn�t want to die, and apparently she wasn�t in a good
emotional state, or even in complete control of her body, for she said so.

�I don�t want to die,� she whispered just loud enough for Weasley and Potter to hear.

�Yeah,� Potter sighed, nodding. �I know. I
know.�

Her pride was gone. She didn�t, couldn�t care anymore. She just wanted to die with Cassian�s face in her mind. She would die
happy� She quickly, in one fluent motion, let go of the black man�s neck,
shoved his dead weight forward onto the floor with her knee, and held her
hands, wand and all, above her head. She felt the tears threatening to
fall, and that was when she knew there was nothing left. If she cried she
really was just a weak woman. She was just another wussy
bitch, just like her mother, just like all those other girls at Hogwarts�
She held them back. It was so hard.

It was almost funny, the way this had happened. Her
chest began shaking in a silent laugh, and her wand tumbled from her fingers to
the floor. Laughing out loud, Pansy fell to the ground on her knees and
she felt at least a half dozen aurors grab hold of
her body. She was nothing now, just another piece of worthless
trash. A stupid betrayer who could have had so much more.

She let them manhandle her, but she had just enough energy
and awareness, that just as she was passing Weasley,
she grabbed hold of his collar. �Weasley!� she
shouted.

Immediately she was hit across the face and stars shone in
her eyes as she dipped in and out of consciousness. But she heard arguing
voices made her aware that she was now on the ground, having been dropped, and
Ronald Weasley was looking at her, his mysterious,
hard blue eyes reflecting her face upside down. Apparently he didn�t like
to see girls hit�how noble.

�What is it?� he asked, almost kindly.

Breathing heavily, Pansy grabbed hold of his collar again
and brought his face level with hers. �I know where Cassian
is� I can tell you everything.�

And that was it. Pansy was a traitor.

Phenomenon

�What do you think, Alastor?�
Percy heard Dumbledore ask.

The three of them, the ringleaders of this rebellion, were
seated in Percy�s office late that night, the evening after the strange
epileptic seizures that had plagued the world, and were discussing their next move.
Percy was seated behind his desk, a throbbing headache threatening to blow a
circuit in his brain, and was listening to the two men speak of other things
before the meeting was drawn to the point. The former headmaster and
Moody sat in semi-comfortable high-backed chairs, each with some of the awful
coffee Percy�s assistant somehow managed to botch every day.

Percy had seen this spectacle with his own eyes when
Monsieur Gustave Delacour
and Monsieur Xavier Delacour had met in his office
that morning. It wouldn�t be the last time however. Percy heard
again of this phenomenon through his brother Bill, who had been in Gringotts at the time and was currently locked in Mungo�s for the moment. He had been frantic, telling
Percy that Mademoiselle Delacour � the eldest of the Delacour sisters and whom Percy suspected of being an
intimate girlfriend � had collapsed in strange convulsions, screaming and
crying for a good ten minutes before she spontaneously stopped. All of
the Delacour children had been affected as this
way. George�s wife and children had the same reaction. Headmistress
McGonagall had gone through the same thing. Percy even heard a disturbing
message from Remus Lupin
that his new wife, formerly Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy, had been attacked in a similar way.

All across the world reports were coming in, and Percy had
been the first to see the connection. All of them, every last one of
them, were Elementals � Fire and Wind Elementals to be specific. There
was something going on here, something Percy didn�t understand and didn�t
like. At the moment, all the Elementals affected in Britain were in
strict lockdown in either Mungo�s, the Ministry
building, Hogwarts, or Selene in Aujuittqu.
Most of them were still unconscious, though Headmistress McGonagall had woken
up a few hours after dawn, as had Mrs. Lupin and
Monsieur Delacour. None of them had been able
to shed any light on the subject, though all agreed that it was Ginny�s doing.

�Are we all in agreement, then?� Moody grunted, taking a
drink from his hipflask, and rapping his fingers on the armrest.

�Indeed,� Dumbledore said promptly.

Percy felt like an errant schoolboy. �Pardon?� he
asked.

Moody snorted. �I said, since we�re trying to protect
so many impossible fronts, as are many other countries, we should pull our
enforcements out of at least two of our fronts. To pull out of Hogwarts
and Selene would be most impossible, but I�m afraid
we may have to abandon the Ministry and St. Mungo�s.
We�ll just relocate to our other strongholds.�

Considering this carefully, Percy answered, �We should leave
small garrisons behind at Mungo�s and the Ministry,
at least to protect our most valued investments. No sense in the Death
Eaters getting the magical healing stores or the ancient war weapons kept in
the Department of Mysteries if they don�t need to. I�d hate to see them
get their hands on our Greek Fire��

�Kamikazes you mean,� Moody interjected. �They could
destroy the stores if the Death Eaters got too close. Brilliant, Weasley! We�ll make an officer out of you yet.�

Percy smiled faintly and nodded.

�Agreed, then,� Dumbledore interjected. �Moving on to
the real purpose of our being here��

�Oh, yes,� Percy agreed, opening his desk. He was
interrupted, however, by a knock on his door. His secretary, the one that
couldn�t make coffee if her life depended on it, poked her head in and winced.

�Yes?� Percy asked.

�I wouldn�t disturb you, Minister,� she said quickly, �but
it�s your brother and Harry Potter, sir. They say it�s real important.�

Percy sighed, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, and
told her to let them in. Harry came in first, an unreadable look on his
face, and Moody and Dumbledore rose to greet him. Following him was
Kingsley Shacklebolt; Ron came in seconds later,
pushing an unfamiliar female with him. She had short, very black hair,
and large blue eyes. She looked as though she were probably very pretty,
but her head was down and her eyes had red circles about them, as if she was
ready to cry.

Percy cleared his throat and she looked up, startled, her
eyes wandering from Percy, to Moody, and finally resting on Dumbledore.
For a moment she was completely still, and then her face crumbled and she took
two, three steps forward, and fell on her knees before Dumbledore. Her
head pressed against the carpet, her back began to heave and Percy realized she
was crying. Everyone was silent, and Percy noticed Kingsley, Ron, and
Harry looked particularly uncomfortable.

It was rather hard to tell, but her voice became clearer,
and Percy heard what she was saying. �I�m sorry� I�m sorry�
I�m sorry� I�m sorry��

A few more minutes passed, and Dumbledore finally
spoke. �Get up, child,� he addressed her.

The girl scrambled up and stood, her head bowed.

�Show me the mark, Pansy,� Dumbledore said softly.

Immediately, the girl with jet-black hair pulled back her
sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark tattooed on her forearm. It was very dark,
very pronounced, and it looked painfully irritated, as if she�d been scratching
at it. Silent tears fell down her porcelain face as she looked away from
the mark and Dumbledore at the far ceiling corner. Percy felt bad for
her, because he knew that somewhere along the lines, Marissa and Flint would
have gone through this.

Dumbledore touched it lightly and the girl shivered.
Taking her chin with two long, old fingers, Dumbledore turned her face towards
him to look her straight in the eye. The girl was still crying quietly,
but apparently Dumbledore saw something in her eyes because he nodded and put a
hand on the top of her head.

�You�re forgiven, Miss Parkinson,� he murmured.

The Parkinson woman�s shoulders jerked forwards, her eyes
looking up at the ceiling again as more tears fell down her face, her chin
trembling terribly. �Tha-a-ank you,� she
sobbed, not even wiping her tears from her face as she reached down the front
of her shirt and pulled out a thin parchment and handed it to him. �I�ll
answer your questions now. Give me the Veritaserum.�

�Is that really necessary?� Ron said, cutting in from the
door. Eyes turned to him and he blushed deeply. �I mean,� he said
slowly, �she�s been through a lot already. If she�s in a better frame of
mind she�ll be able to give us better answers.�

Percy cleared his throat and said, �Yes, yes, I quite
agree. Ron, Harry, why don�t you two keep an eye on her until we can get
her to Hogwarts. We�ll question her in a few hours when we�re
transplanted. Agreed?� he asked, looking at Dumbledore and Moody.

They did.

The Age of My Soul

Draco had extinguished the fire
and Ginny�s eyes had just adjusted to the dim moonlight. It was very
windy, but it wasn�t snowing yet, though there were thick clouds in the
distance coming their way. They would be up to their knees by morning, so
they had best get as far as they could while they were at it. Ginny had
eaten sparingly from what Draco had given her, she
hadn�t been properly hungry in five years, though she had a feeling with the
loss of her Elemental powers she would soon regain her appetite.

After she had woken up as the sun was falling, she had taken
some time to look at Draco as he slept. She
came to the conclusion that Draco had turned into a
ghost. He looked the same, almost. He was bigger now, not quite a
boyish as he had been. Not barrel-chested, but wider, and he had let his
hair grow out to his chin. It was something that reminded Ginny of
Professor Snape� His face was harder, older,
but not in the sense that his body was aging. His soul was aging.
And his skin was darker now, so much darker than hers. Ginny could
remember a time when she couldn�t tell where her skin started and his
began�well, except for her freckles. Before his features seemed to flow,
like a single brush stroke. Now he was more put together. Eyes, a
nose, a stern mouth, chin, neck, shoulders, torso, and so on. He wasn�t
so much pretty, like he had been. He was just�a man now.

He had caught her staring as he woke and Ginny had turned
away blushing. There was a defined discomfort between the two of
them. Perhaps they were thinking things that they couldn�t say
aloud. Ginny knew she was. She couldn�t say them though. She
had just pulled her hair into a loose braid behind her head when Draco had called her.

�Look up,� his whispered, pulling Ginny next to him in the
trees.

Ginny�s eyes widened. There was a form of a person on
broomstick, flying through the air with all possible speed. Ginny ducked
further under the trees and swallowed hard. �Do you think they saw us?�
she asked in a hushed whisper.

Draco turned and looked down on
her, a lock of hair disrupting his face. �I doubt it. They looked
to be in too much of a hurry. Most likely they were fleeing into
London. Selene is taking in everyone now.�

�Oh,� she replied. She looked down at her feet and
straightened her sleeves unconsciously. Gazing up again she saw he hadn�t
taken his eyes off her. She bit her lip. �Draco?�
she asked.

�Yes?�

Cautiously, slowly, she touched the pale dangling tress of
hair and fingered it briefly before tucking it away behind his ear. �You
should cut your hair.�

Dashing out of the trees she stood in the snow and listened
to him rustle his way into the open. �I bet you could find your broom,�
Ginny said, not looking at him.

�Yeah,� he said, his voice uncommonly husky. �I�ll
try. Accio Firebolt
III!�

Ginny looked around and didn�t see anything. But Draco tried again.
�Accio Firebolt
III!� When nothing appeared Draco cursed.
�If it�s broken then it won�t come.�

�Try it again,� Ginny said confidently.

�Accio
Firebolt III!� he shouted.

Ginny ducked just in time. A loud thwack and Ginny saw
that Draco had caught the broom with a jerk
back. He smirked and stuck his wand back into the deep pockets of his
black coat. He hopped on and turned the collar of his coat up.
Ginny looked at him for a moment, then frowned.

�You�re going to be cold,� she said softly. He looked
at her curiously, but Ginny shook her head. �I�ll be fine.� She
plucked at her thin red camisole and laughed. �I really don�t need any
clothes at all �� But before she could finish she stopped dead and
blushed, her eyes widening in humiliation.

To her mortification, Draco actually
chuckled richly and said something like, �Maybe later,� before patting the back
of his new design Firebolt. �Go ahead and get
on.�

Ginny nodded and refused to look him in the face, but she
got on the back of the broom anyway and cautiously put her arms around his trim
waist.

�Where are we going?� he asked, turning back to her briefly
and pinning her with a pointed look.

�Northwest. We�ll pass a small lake and it will be on
the other side of the next hill. It�s not that big, a sub-fortress that Mordred once used. He sacrificed virgins and unicorns
there, that�s why the other wont be able to find it. It doesn�t want to
be found.�

�Then how will we know it�s there?�

Ginny shivered. �You won�t need to see it to know it�s
there, Draco.�

Draco shrugged. �One of
those places then�all right, hold on.�

Ginny�s hair ripped behind her, braid promptly falling loose
and waving like a flag as they flew. She was sure she�d never been on a
broom this fast before, and the jolt startled her. In her surprise she
tightened her grip on Draco so she didn�t fly off the
back of the broom and probably die. She could hear Draco�s
laughter though his back.

He turned around to her, a sly smile on his face.
�Don�t worry, Ginny,� he said smoothly. �I won�t let you fall.� He
smirked. �It�ll just be cold for a while.�

Ginny looked him back with a straight face and said in a low
voice. �Don�t worry, Draco. I won�t let
you get cold.�

One of Draco�s eyebrows raised,
and Ginny couldn�t say she�d seen him do that ever before. But he didn�t
say anything and pushed the broom faster.

�The Prodigal Son � portrait by Rembrandt

�Caesar and Brutus, Jesus and
Judas � reference to Caesar�s betrayer and nephew, Brutus, and Jesus� betrayer
and disciple, Judas
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