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The Lost Room	By : SueLovesJude Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Ginny Views: 4444 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-The Lost Room
- 1
Author’s Notes: This
was written for the Fall 2006 D/G Fic Exchange at Livejournal. It was nominated for
Best Fic Overall.

Here was the prompt: Realistic romance
which would take place during HBP. Ginny will
be pre-warned of that something that will happen which involves the death of
the character in HBP but she won't
click until it has all happened. The fic should be
written from Ginny's point of view as she is the one
who understands Draco's stance in HBP.
The ending of the story must end with the ending of HBP.

Thank you to the moderators of the exchange (forgetablelove and jandjsalmon)
for their assistance in coming up with the title mentioned in the first
paragraph; to fallenwitch and jandjsalmon
for the excellent, speedy, last-minute beta read; and to the HP Lexicon for the
HPB/OotP timelines. I could
not have done this without you.

The Lost Room

Two annoyed young people stood before the desk of Albus Dumbledore, staring at him as if he were out of his
mind. Draco finally took the parchment the old professor had laid out on the
space between them and read flatly, “Manage Your Wrath-? You’ve got to
be joking.”

“No, Mr. Malfoy, I think it would be good for you. You
too, Miss Weasley. You both seem to have a temper that should you not learn to
manage, will manage you for the rest of your foreseeable lives.”

Judging by his feeble attempt to hide his amusement at the pair’s predicament,
Ginny couldn’t decide whether he was kidding or not. But knowing him, he probably wasn’t.

“But Professor Dumbledore,” she protested hotly, “why do both of us have to go?
He’s the problem here! I only defend myself when—”

Draco scoffed and cut her off in mid-sentence, “Right! Is that what you
call it when you unleashed all those disgusting, large bats on me? They were flying all over my
face –trying to bite the end of my nose off, scratching my cheeks, clawing at
my eyes! I could have been blinded, you idiot!” With his arm outstretched, he
yelled indignantly, “That woman has got to learn to control herself!”

Ginny glared back at Draco, ready to give him another earful about the
questionable actions of certain members of the so-called ‘Inquisitorial Squad’,
and that she and her friends wouldn’t have been caught since there wasn’t any
actual rule-breaking as the rules were ridiculous in the first place! But the man on the other side of the desk spoke first.

“Now, Mr. Malfoy, you could both do with some learning, which is why I am
recommending this class. You will need to travel immediately after you return
home, but fortunately, the course is compressed into just five days so it won’t cut into your holiday for too long. They use an
accelerated lesson plan to quickly teach the students
to, ‘Learn to walk a mile in another man’s shoes’, to quote an old Muggle
adage. Their success rate is very high.”

This only served to aggravate them further.

“But, sir, I’m not the problem!”

“Wanna bet?”

He silenced them both by raising his hand.

“All arrangements have been made, and you are both going.”

* * * * *

As much as Ginny trusted Professor Dumbledore, she
had her doubts about this whole barmy idea. But within days, she had to admit that the course was
actually helpful. Their advanced teaching methods used a combination of Muggle
psychiatry and good, old-fashioned magic. Students learned to channel their
energy into understanding, instead of cutting down one’s adversary. Soon, the
once-sworn enemies grew to understand, even like each other.

By the third day, Draco couldn’t help noticing that
Blaise was right: she was rather attractive – freckles, red hair, and
all – and Ginny had to acknowledge that he did have some good qualities,
despite the façade he wore for the rest of the world. She even found she
enjoyed his sardonic sense of humor, now that he’d
backed off insulting her with it. Surprisingly, he could actually be fun.

The new friends agreed to meet for a picnic lunch to celebrate their last day
there. They ate under a gazebo that stood next to a fountain with a carving of
Irene, Greek goddess of peace, at its center. As Ginny listened to the
fountain, she found herself mesmerized by the cool, splashing water and the
butterflies that danced on the breeze around it. Never losing sight of the
purple and black one that lit daintily on Irene’s alabaster hair, she smiled
wistfully. She was thinking how ironic this whole thing had been, and how they
had finally gotten to know one another now, of all times . . . now that
the battle lines had been drawn so clearly.

She felt, rather than saw him staring at her. When her eyes met his, the hunger
she saw in them was undeniable; the way he was looking at her just then, the
excitement she felt when she was with him . . . it was indescribable. It was
nothing like what Michael or even Harry had made her feel. He edged closer to
her wordlessly, and after a tenuous first kiss, sparks erupted. He wrapped
himself around her and kissed her again, kissed her as if his very life
depended on holding her, tasting her, knowing her.

Her hair, her fiery, copper hair. He could never touch
its softness enough or inhale all of its flowery scent. Her eyes glowed with a
passion that was unmistakable; he could tell that she wanted this, perhaps more
than he did. He moved his hand, slowly but surely, down the back of her hair to
the nape of her freckled neck then stopped briefly to check her response. When
she kissed with more enthusiasm than ever, he felt compelled to keep going. So he did, moving along the neckline of her robes and over
her collarbone, pausing cautiously just as the heel of his hand reached the top
edge of her breast. Again, he stopped to be sure she didn’t
mind if he went a bit further.

On the contrary, the look of abandon on her face said she might hurt him if he didn’t.

He was breathing heavily. They were standing so close,
she could feel his hardness press insistently against her stomach. She
swallowed nervously.

This is it, she told herself.

“Have you,” he asked in between breaths, “ever—”

She nodded hastily, saying, “A few times, yes.” But
when she started to kiss him again, he turned away and groaned. No matter how
very tempting this was, it just . . .

“Ginny, as much as I would dearly love to shag you – you know we can’t. It
would never work; we would never work.”

At first, she considered disregarding his advice. But
when he backed away from her resolutely, she knew he was serious. It was a
relationship with no future. This would only make it worse.

“You’re right,” she agreed. “We’d have to be crazy. But can’t we at least be
friends?” She could hear the pleading in her own voice and cringed a little
inside at how pathetic she sounded.

Draco shook his head and said with a mirthless laugh, “You’re a glutton for
punishment, aren’t you, Weasley?” He sighed then started to head back for their
afternoon class. “Well, time for our last lesson.”

“Wait. I’ve got an idea.” She pulled two coins out of her pocket. After putting
an enchantment on each of them, she offered one to him. “If you bring this coin
back to school with you, I’ll know you want to see me.” He started to take it
but then hesitated. “Think about it,” she added.

Draco appeared to be mildly impressed. He raised an eyebrow then took one of
the coins from her open palm. Pleased with her quick thinking, she smiled to
herself. He flipped his coin once in the air, caught it, and then tucked it
away. “All right. See you back in class.”

* * * * *

Summer dragged on at the Burrow for Ginny. Fleur Delacour was driving her, and practically everyone else,
out of their minds. When Harry arrived much earlier
than he did, things only got worse, for it was painfully obvious that he was no
longer thinking of her as just ‘Ron’s little sister’. Still, she was friendly
to him. They played Quidditch together during the day, and at night, Hermione
read while Ginny stayed up late and wrote long letters to Dean Thomas.

Dean Thomas, she thought with a sigh. When she had mentioned to Ron that
she had taken an interest in Dean, it was a lark, really, but one that turned
out to be quite fortunate. She reckoned that if she had not mentioned anyone
specific, she might be fending off Harry Potter’s advances right now – not to
mention Ron’s encouragement of said advances. What she really wanted was get to
know Draco better. And she definitely wanted to kiss
him again. Sealing another letter, she smiled and thought, It’s
funny how things work out.

The first day of September finally arrived. Ginny rode with Dean on the
Hogwarts Express, and Draco, after making a brief appearance in the Prefects’
compartment, joined his Slytherin classmates. During the ride, Pansy Parkinson
brought up the name of Ginny Weasley. When she did, Draco felt his heart skip a
beat and a tingly sensation flooded his body. As she casually mentioned that lots of boys found her to be good-looking, including his
housemate Blaise Zabini, he feigned indifference. But just beneath the surface, his blood was boiling. He
wished she would just shut the hell up and keep stroking his hair. That way, he
could close his eyes and pretend she was the fiery-haired vixen he wanted to
shag this summer.

He had thought of little else since returning home. But
they couldn’t be together. Falling for her would be a serious mistake,
he thought as he fingered the coin in his pocket, flipping it over and over in its secret compartment, all the while
ignoring Pansy’s cackling laughter as best he could.

Later that night, the Great Hall was abuzz as new students were
sorted into houses. The term began and life went on as usual at
Hogwarts. But Ginny found it difficult to focus on her
studies. Although she put up a good front – thanks in large part to Dean – her
thoughts were elsewhere. Draco and their unrequited passion were consuming her,
making studying impossible. She had to see him but where?
He wasn’t in the Slug Club so she couldn’t see him
there, and sneaking off to an opposing team’s Quidditch practice was grounds
for immediate removal from one’s house team.

The coin in her robe pocket still had not changed, but she felt certain that he
had his with him. So she took it upon herself to find
a private spot where they could meet. One afternoon when her brother’s dorm
room was empty, she slipped in and nicked Harry’s map. After much searching,
she found what seemed like an ideal place: a small, unnamed, abandoned room not
far from Professor Trelawney’s classroom. Apparently, no one ever went there.
She almost missed it herself among all the busy markings of the map.

When she first came up to survey the room in person, it was perfect, except for
being a bit cramped and more than a tad dirty. But it
was nothing a little Weasley magic couldn’t fix. The room had a single window
that was so small that Crookshanks could barely have
crawled through it, and judging by the thick coat of dust around the room, the
items within had remained there undisturbed for many years. There were dozens
of tea-stained cups, all with the same fleur delis pattern, a box of old
crystal balls, and rows of charts on yellowed parchment. Ginny figured it had been used by the previous Divination professor. The
room and its contents had been forgotten, and as she put on the finishing touches, she only hoped it would stay that way.

Then finally, one day in late September, words appeared on her coin. He asked
if they could meet that Friday evening. They had not spoken to each other, much
less kissed or touched, since returning to school. She sent him back a message
where and what time to meet her.

On entering the room, she noticed that it needed to be dusted
again. But I just cleaned it last week! Mildly
annoyed but by no means discouraged, she applied a few of her mother’s quick
cleaning spells. Once she was done, she sat on a tatty, plum-colored couch, and
waited for Draco to arrive.

The wait was excruciating and seemed to go on forever. Growing tired and a
little bored, she wandered around the room and started
to wave her wand around casually. She watched the light as it danced around.
The crystal balls that were protruding from their dilapidated box reflected the
warm whitish-yellow glow. The simple pleasure made her giggle,
even though she knew she should be feeling nervous. She was out far too late –
it was probably after hours by now – and she vaguely wondered whether Dean had
made it back to Gryffindor
Tower yet.

Her focus shifted back to Draco. Why wasn’t he there
yet? When at last she heard noises in the outer hallway, her heart fluttered. But when the door didn’t open, she sunk back in
disappointment. She lay her head down on the arm of the sofa and was soon
drifting in and out. Every bump in the hallway outside startled her. At length,
she heard the sounds she had been waiting for all this time: the hinges of the
door creaking as it fell shut and Draco’s voice.

“Hullo,” he said casually as he stood over her. He smiled dashingly then kissed
her nose. When he hoisted her in his arms, he spun her around and kissed her
again. She was elated to see him and laughed like she
hadn’t laughed in ages.

“Now, wait a minute! I thought we were going to be
‘just friends’. What ever happened to that, you randy pervert?”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, sod all that ‘friends’ crap. I
thought about it, and I think we should progress to ‘friends with benefits’.
What do you think, Ginny?” He wiggled his eyebrows and gave her a wickedly
engaging smile. He put her down on the sofa, sat down next to her, and the two
began talking. Neither of their feelings had changed. It was just like they were back under the gazebo, relaxing and enjoying
each other’s company.

Gradually, a nagging feeling overtook her. “Look, Draco, we really should be
getting back. Ron’s probably sent out a search and
rescue team for me. But before we go, I need to ask you about something.”

“I’d say about eight inches. But it’s not the size of
the wand; it’s the magic inside that counts.” He
reached out for her suddenly, grabbed her shoulders and tried to pin her
underneath him, but she wriggled away and sat up.

“Yeah, yeah, and the wizard who wields it. But I’m
serious, Draco.”

He sat up on the other edge of the sofa so he could look in her eyes. “All right. What?” he asked, his playful mood gone.

“Did you really break Harry’s nose on the train?”

He shrugged casually and smiled as if thinking of a fond memory. Raising an
eyebrow, he said, “I might have. But if it wasn’t me,
would you find out who did so I can thank them properly? That reminds me: I
still owe someone flowers for blacking Granger’s eye.”

She scoffed. “You are unbelievable, Draco Malfoy. Didn’t you learn anything
this summer?”

“I learned about you. Besides, can I help it if your
goody-goody Gryffindor friends are a pain in the arse?” As she stood up and
crossed in front of him, he demanded, “Where are you going?”

“Back. You should, too, you know,” she said, a bit sternly.

“But we haven’t spent a half-hour together! Please, Ginny . . . stay.” He
reached out and grabbed hold of her hand. Pulling her closer, he brought it to
his lips and kissed it tenderly. “Please? I need to tell you something.”

“I’m listening, Draco.” She sat down next to him and touched his thigh lightly.
“I’ll always be here for you.”

He breathed deeply then exhaled a long, shuddering sigh. “I-I don’t know how to
say this, but the truth is, I’m . . . I’m scared,
Ginny. The summer was excruciating, what with Father sent away, all those
meetings, the plans, Mother crying, my aunt—”

She flinched at the very mention of her; those two haunting words sent a chill
to her heart. He felt her shiver and paused for a moment.

“Look,” he began again hesitantly, “I know you’ve been through some pretty
rough things yourself, so you know what I’m saying. But
this – this was just awful. I mean, she taught me a lot, and I am
grateful, but still . . . I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“Ready for what?” She placed her soft hands on his
cheeks, which were like ice. “You haven’t you seen him, have you?” He
shook his head rapidly, his eyes drawn wide. “As you can well imagine, my
dealings with him . . . they definitely had an effect on me. It was a living
nightmare.” She said these last few words in a harsh whisper.

“I know, Ginny. I do. I’ve known about it for years,
long before you brought it up in our class this summer.” Seeing her shocked
glance, he went on. “Sorry I didn’t mention it before, but Father told me about it when I asked him why we’d lost Dobby. He was
furious. I thought surely he would strike me just for
asking. But that night, he started drinking, and he
couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He told me everything.
Fortunately, he was too pissed to think of using a Memory Charm on me.

“And that’s why I knew . . . that I could talk to you. I knew you’d
understand.” He took her hand once more, turned it over, and kissed her palm
lovingly. “I’m so glad that I got to guard you that day. I’ll tell you, Pansy
wasn’t too keen on the idea.” He added with a sardonic laugh, “I’m even glad
you hexed me. Without that, we wouldn’t be here now.”

He stopped and gazed at her. She could see the peace return to his grey eyes,
and she smiled at him sadly. She leaned over and lightly grazed his cheek with
her soft, wet lips.

That was all it took; the flames soon engulfed them like a tempest they didn’t have the power to stop.

Clothing – some of it fine and expensive, some of it not so fine – was soon
scattered across the floor as they moved steadily toward the sofa. The searing
kisses continued, neither of them wanting to break apart for even a second,
fearing the magic would be broken. Draco maneuvered them toward the sofa and
gently guided her onto it, positioning himself on top of her.

He licked the side of her earlobe and neck as she ran her hands over his
biceps. Mmm, not bad, she thought as
she took a moment to appreciate his physique. As he stared her up and down, she
wondered vaguely where he would put his tongue next, not that it particularly
mattered. He glided it down her throat and to one of her pink nubs, which had
peaked long ago, and began stroking it, lightly at first, then more intensely,
circling it and sucking gently. The pleasurable sensation fueled her desire
even more, and her legs simply fell open in response.

He slid smoothly inside her, and she gasped at how easy it was this time. He
moved slowly at first, taking his time so he could enjoy the feel of her body.
When she kissed him deeply, he shuddered and picked up the pace a bit. Ginny
relished the delicious sensations he was creating in her and wasn’t
shy about letting him know. Encouraged by her appreciative whimpering, he
pushed deeper inside her. He tilted his pelvis slightly until he found exactly
the way she liked to be stroked and was rewarded with
a cry.

They clung to each other, both of them desperate for release. His breathing was
becoming more erratic, indicating that his climax was imminent. A raspy sound
that seemed to form her name gradually escaped from his throat. She could feel
him pulsing inside her. Seeing the ecstasy on his face made her feel immensely
powerful, and she soon followed him into bliss.

As they relaxed and their breathing returned to normal, Ginny closed her eyes,
hoping that their lovemaking would always be this way – that it wasn’t this intense simply because it was their first time
together and they were deeply infatuated with each other. It seemed that
everything, from the way their bodies molded against each other so perfectly,
to the way he made her feel, physically and emotionally – it all just felt so
right.

Coming back to reality, she started thinking that it must be getting dreadfully
late. She dressed, kissed him one last time, and left for Gryffindor Tower.

She gave the Fat Lady the password, expecting to be
admonished for being out after hours. But as
she stepped through the portrait hole, something seemed a bit weird. Most
everyone was still up and about. People were studying,
reading, gossiping, writing letters, practicing spells, and whatever else they
did to fill their time after dinner.

Even the first years are still up! I don’t
understand; surely, I’ve been gone for well over an hour.

As Romilda Vane walked by, she asked her what time it
was. When she said it was 8:20, Ginny said, “Really? I
could have sworn it was closer to . . . umm, never mind. Thank you.” The
fourth-year shook her head and sneered as if the girl were just another daft
Weasley.

But I waited for Draco for almost half an
hour! Or maybe it just felt that way, the anticipation
and all.

Exhausted, she went up to the fifth-year girls’ dorm and slept all night.

* * * * *

They weren’t able to meet
again until a week before Halloween. When the time came, she waited once more
in their private room, with its faint light and stockpiles of ancient
Divination supplies. She drew a lazy finger across the rusty edges of a metal
box labeled some odd brand of tea she had never heard of. She touched the
random objects, brushing some of them off.

To pass the time, she thought of everything from Quidditch to her classes and
homework to what would be for dessert tomorrow. She thought about her
housemates and reassured herself that all of them, but most importantly, Harry,
Ron, and Hermione, believed the ruse that she and Dean were actually falling in
love. Perhaps they were – but not with each other.

If they knew the truth, that Draco and I have been lovers for weeks . . .
Ron would surely have me checked into St. Mungo’s,
and Harry would swear I was under an Imperius. Thank goodness
for Dean or this would never work so well . . .

A sullen Draco Malfoy stormed into their private domain, pulling her out of her
thoughts.

“I need to talk to you,” he growled.

“What’s the matter, love?” she asked as she reached out to him and tried to put
her arms around his neck. But instead of being
receptive, he grabbed her wrists and forced her arms to her side.

“I am fucking sick and tired of seeing that Dean Thomas hang all over you like
he did the other day in Hogsmeade. He is not
to touch you . . . you are mine. And I don’t
share what is mine!”

She glared at him silently, stunned by his accusation. When she found her
voice, she rose to her defense. “Don’t be ridiculous, Draco. You know it’s
only—”

But he was not convinced, and without a word, he summoned one of the crystal
balls she had been examining earlier and smashed it against the far wall.

“Is that clear, Miss Weasley?” She could feel his breath hot on her
face.

“You know it’s not like that,” Ginny said insistently, attempting once more to
reach out and hold him. Draco growled in frustration, backed away from her, and
threw his arms out to deflect her touch. She studied his face and could sense
that he was distracted. Perhaps his anger was not directed
at her or her so-called ‘boyfriend’.

“Well, it sure as hell looked that way to me! And to
everyone else. He was all over you; if he’d have gotten any closer . . . I
swear, he’d have been inside of you!”

“How dare you, Draco Malfoy. We’ve been through this before, but I suppose once
more can’t hurt,” she snipped. He scowled at her catty
remark. “I pretend that Dean is my boyfriend. To make it believable, we have to
be together sometimes. That means hugging and kissing, fawning over each other,
and all that. In exchange, he gets to hide his strange desires for his
roommate, who shall forever remain anonymous, even to me,
while you and I carry on in secret. Get it?”

Despite her little speech, he was still leery. “And he’s never asked who your
secret lover was? Look at me, Ginny. This is very
important. Does he know it’s me?”

“Why would he? He doesn’t care who you are. And I don’t ask about his secret, because I don’t care. It
serves both our purposes.”

He released a shaky breath then mumbled, “Followers of the Dark Lord, and their
family members, have been killed for much less than falling in love with
someone who supports the opposition.”

She sighed, aggravated by this sudden bout of irrational jealousy. It was
pointless, utterly ridiculous, groundless . . . and then it hit her. Did he
just say ‘falling in love’?

“Are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Falling in love with me.”

“I don’t know. Maybe I am,” he answered
noncommittally.

“But you do care for me, don’t you?”

“Fuck’s sake, Ginny! You know I
do – can’t we just leave it at that? Look, I really need to get back soon to
start my rounds, and we both know what would happen if we were to kiss, even
just one time . . . ”

The look on his face told her how much he longed for that kiss. She felt the
same but didn’t want to start anything they wouldn’t
have the time to finish properly. “What time is it, anyway?” she asked, not
really wanting to know.

He looked at his watch then frowned. “That can’t be right. It must have
stopped.” Putting it next to his ear, he shook it to be sure it was still
ticking. It was, but even the second hand didn’t
appear to be moving. “That’s odd. It worked earlier today.”

“Oh.” She gasped, remembering the one night they had been here before. “Draco,
the last time we were here, did you notice what time it was when you got back
to the dungeons?”

Still tinkering with his watch, he said absently, “Not really.”

“Well, time just seemed to sort of . . . stop. Or at
least, it moved very slowly. I know, without a Time
Turner, how could that be possible? But I waited for
you at least 30 minutes. When you finally got here—”

“Thirty? I was only about four or five minutes late.”

“Whatever. Then we talked for a while, made love . . .
I should have been gone at least two hours. But when I got back to my house, it was still early. Even
the first-years were awake. Hermione makes them lie down by 8:30.”

“So you’re saying time that works differently when we’re in here?”

“It certainly seems to . . . but maybe it’s not just because we’re in
here. I mean, have you ever seen how dirty this room
gets? Well, maybe you haven’t because I usually clean
it before you get here. But there’s always dust bunnies under the sofa, and
that small table, the candlesticks, the old Divination supplies,” she said,
pointing from one thing to the next, “all of them are coated with dust.”

Draco took a moment to survey the room. It certainly didn’t
look like anything special.

“Do you think this could be a Lost Room? I’ve
heard of them but never been in one. They’re pretty
rare these days. Goyle’s family has one in their
attic. Used to send him there for punishments. Don’t
know what else they use it for.”

Ginny was intrigued. “How does it work? I mean, is there some sort of time
ratio to what’s happening outside?”

“How would I know? I just told you I’d never been in
one.”

“Well, step outside for a few minutes!” she laughed as if the answer were
obvious.

“No way. I’m not standing around in an empty hallway
like an idiot.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “All right then, I will. It’s
6:43. I’ll be back in five minutes.”

“Crazy bird,” he muttered to himself as the door fell
shut behind her.

When she finally came back in, he was sitting on the floor, his back against
the wall, and looking at the aged parchments of star charts. “About
bloody time! Left me sitting in here bored out
of my mind for twenty-five minutes!”

She showed him her watch. It read 6:48. Laughing, she touched his face and
huddled up against him. “Looks like we just found a whole lot
more time.”

He smiled one of his genuine, perfect smiles, the kind that made her weak in
the knees. “Yeah, we did.”

Her lips were on his once more, and their passion ignited. He longed for her
warmth, her softness . . . her love. Before long, they were peeling off layers
of clothes. Seeking a cozier spot, they moved over to the sofa. It was the place where they laughed, loved, drank each other
in, drew life from each other . . .

Afterward, Ginny grinned to herself. It was incredible, just like the last
time. Sex with Michael was nothing like this. They had never connected on this
level, or on any level, for that matter. He would just pump away like mad for
about a minute, grunting noisily as his pleasure built, then
a groan would signify his release. Afterward when he left her, she felt
disappointed and rejected. Used.

But this . . . this was definitely real. It felt as
natural as breathing, not to mention better than anything she had ever
experienced.

Ever since Tom had lied and told her he loved her, she knew it was better to
err on the side of caution when it came to boys. She had always made a
conscious effort not to fall in love with a boy just because he had a handsome
face or lent a sympathetic ear . . . and so far, she had done a pretty good job.

But when she was with Draco, she couldn’t help
herself. He made her feel things – not just physically, but emotionally – that
she hadn’t with anyone else. He completed her.

Merlin help me – I think I’m in love with him.

* * * * *

Ginny strode with purpose toward the Lost Room, her
elegant robes billowing behind her as she left Professor Slughorn’s
Christmas party. The guests included Slug Club members, their guests, and a few
dignitaries. It wasn’t the best party ever, but to be
honest, being cordial to all those people who felt they deserved the students’
admiration had been rather tedious. At least she got new robes, and it was fun
watching Hermione try to invent various ways to dodge her date, Cormac McLaggen, whom everyone
agreed was something of a legend in his own mind. She wondered if Professor Slughorn had purposefully left him out to deflate his ego
just a bit.

Speaking of egos, she could understand Draco’s
disappointment that he had not been chosen to join the
Potions Master’s elite group. After all, his father had been a member during
his days at Hogwarts, so he assumed he would be as well. He seemed to feel
entitled to the things he wanted simply because of his family name.

But gatecrashing a
private party? Unbelievable!

Ginny thought his behavior tonight was unconscionable. Naturally, she was happy
to see him, and she enjoyed watching him ogle her in her splendid attire. But she was still angry with him. If she could have, she
would have asked him to go as her guest. But that just
wasn’t possible.

“What took you so fucking long?” he demanded the minute she threw the door
open. “It feels like I’ve been here since Halloween!”

“Of course, it does, you prat. That’s
what this room does – extends time! Now, what the hell were you thinking,
showing up uninvited to a private party?”

He scowled and said, “I had to see you, okay? I’d
watched you as you walked down the hallway in your new robes, and you just . .
. took my breath away. I couldn’t let you go there alone with all those boys
gawking at you.” He paused a moment. “You look bloody gorgeous.”

No matter how outraged she had been, Ginny appreciated the compliment. She
smiled and said, “Thank you.”

She knew she couldn’t stay – not this time. “I’ve got
to get back. Is that all?” she asked, fighting the urge to kiss him. She turned
to go, but he latched onto her arm forcefully and pulled her back.

His face looked pained. Tired. As he turned away from
her, she heard him sniff. Is he . . . crying?

“No, it isn’t. Oh Ginny. I don’t
know what to do. I can’t, I can’t, I just – can’t do
it! I’m not ready. I don’t want this, it’s too much, I
– I . . .”

He started to babble incoherently. She touched his arm and caressed it
lovingly. Reaching up to stroke his face, she said, “Draco, calm down. What is it?
Can you tell me?”

“No, I can’t! That’s the
problem. If I repeat what he said . . . if word gets out, I’ll
be killed. Mother won’t be safe, my father will be tortured as well, most
likely killed—”

Alarmed, she said, “All right, you musn’t – I
understand. Tell me whatever you can. Just don’t put anyone at risk, please. It’s not worth it.” She
led him over to the sofa and sat down with him. “Now.
Can you share anything with me? Some small part
of what’s bothering you?”

“It’s all right. You have to go,” he said, sulking.

“Don’t be silly. It’ll be fine. I’ll just get my hair and robes soaking wet and tell everyone I ran into
Peeves; they’ll buy that. Tell me whatever you can.
I’m here for you,” she assured him.

He was quiet for a long time. Tears flowed freely down his reddened,
tired-looking face. He trusted her, so why wouldn’t he
just talk to her?

Finally, he broke the stifling silence.

“I-I’ve been assigned to kill someone. Someone important.
And if I don’t do it . . . let’s just say it’ll be the end of the Malfoy line.”

Ginny was stunned. Of all the things she imagined he might say, that was the
not one of them. She breathed, “But why would he ask you to do it? You’re only 16. If you were caught, y-you’d be throwing your
whole life away.”

“You think I don’t know that?” he snapped. She winced at his reproach.

“Have you thought of going to Snape for help or maybe to Professor Dumbledore?”
The advice was met with a surly glare.

Her heart and mind were racing, trying to think of a way out of all this, but
nothing came to her. Finally, she asked in a weak voice, “Who is it? The
Minister of Magic, or maybe a Muggle official?”

“Are you daft?” Draco snorted, “I can’t tell you that!” He shivered even though
Ginny could tell he had cast a Heating Charm on the room. She watched him with
wide eyes and waited.

“Look,” he finally said, sounding a little calmer. “I appreciate your concern. But it’s nothing to do with you, Ginny. I have to face this
on my own.” He turned his hand over and stroked her cheek tenderly with the
back of it. He was freezing, and she wrapped her hand around his to help warm
him up. She fought the urge to cry for his lost, tortured soul. If only I could help him . . .

“I’m going back to the party now. If you ever need to talk, just let me know. Everything’s going to be all right.”

But Ginny could see in his eyes that he didn’t believe
her. She wasn’t sure if she believed herself. She
kissed him softly before leaving him alone with his thoughts.

* * * * *

The two lovers did not meet again for quite some
time. Ginny risked sending Draco a few owls in between Christmas and the middle
of February, continuing to urge him to seek help from a teacher, such as Snape
or even Slughorn. Each time, Draco summarily ignored
her advice. After she’d sent her third owl, she got a
rather brusque response on her coin that simply read, “Bugger off.”

She watched him in the Great Hall – that is, when he even bothered to show up
for meals. With each passing week, she could see him looking paler and more
ashen as he withdrew further into himself.

As if worrying about Draco wasn’t enough to keep her
up at night, her brother Ron was accidentally poisoned, on his birthday no
less, while visiting Professor Slughorn. Harry had
brought his best friend there to get an antidote for a love potion he had
inadvertently taken. Ginny also faced the additional pressure of preparing for
her upcoming O.W.L.s and the possibility of
Gryffindor facing the Quidditch final without its star Chaser, Katie Bell.
Little by little, everything began to cave in around her. With all that was
happening, she was finding it harder to pretend that
things were still going well with Dean.

Dean was also losing interest in their little charade. Boys in other houses
were starting to catch him staring at them appreciatively in the Great Hall,
during Apparation lessons, and on Hogsmeade
visits – and some of them were starting to smile back. He decided that it would
be better if he dropped his pointless obsession over his roommate, who was apparently
only interested in girls.

One warm afternoon in April, Ginny and Dean walked together around the Black Lake.
He started to say something but seemed a bit nervous. Then out of nowhere, he
suggested that they break up.

“I know I agreed to this, and I’m grateful that you helped cover for me while I
sorted all this out. It’s just that . . . I think I
found a bloke who might care for me. I know that if I had ever told my roommate
about my feelings, it would have ended in disaster – not to mention, ruined our
friendship.” He stared off across the lake. “With you as my girl, he never even
noticed.”

Ginny reluctantly agreed. Dean had a right to date whomever he wanted to. If he
didn’t want to continue playing her boyfriend, she had
to let him go. She pretended not to care, but he could sense her
disappointment. He kissed her on the cheek. As they walked back slowly, the
pair discussed how they would stage a public break-up once they got up to Gryffindor Tower.

As she hid beneath her bed hangings that night, she plotted how she could get
Draco to meet with her. Soon, he would notice that she and Dean had broken up,
and unless Harry’s feelings had changed for her since Christmas, he would waste
no time trying to take Dean’s place. Meanwhile, Ron had been hinting pretty
strongly that she should date his best friend, almost as if it were her
duty, now that she and Dean were finally over. With the pressure mounting, it
was imperative they she see Draco.

But how could she get him to meet her in the Lost
Room, when he wouldn’t respond to anything she’d written?

Finally, she came up with just the right words. She put them on the coin.

He’ll be there, she told herself as she
nestled into her blankets for a good nights rest.

* * * * *

“‘You look like you could use a
good shag’?” Draco drawled, reading from his coin as he entered the Lost
Room once more. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means I need to talk to you.” Ginny said with a shrug. “It worked, didn’t
it?”

She was sitting on the couch. Draco stood across the room from her, thinking
that getting close enough to touch her would be a very bad idea. He grumbled,
“So talk.”

“By now, you’ve probably noticed that Dean and I are
no longer together. To the average person, this would mean that I am now available to date other boys. We both know that’s
not quite true, so I wanted to hear where you think we’re heading with
this.”

“For disaster, most likely.”

“Really,” she said casually, fiddling with the purple threads that stuck
out from the arm of the shabby-looking sofa. “Oh by the way, whatever happened
to your ‘assignment’?”

“It’s still on; I have to go through with it. I will
go through with it.”

“So of all his clever little Death Eaters, You-Know-Who couldn’t think of
anyone else who could accomplish this ‘special task’?”

“No, he didn’t want to,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m the one. He has
shown confidence in me because he knows I can do it.”

“Draco, he’s making a fool of you. Do you think your aunt couldn’t
have wiped out this person, whoever it is, without a moment’s hesitation? If
this person’s death were really important, he or she’d be gone by now!”

He looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Are you suggesting that I can’t do
it?”

“No! I’m saying that he’s using you, just like he uses
everyone for his own sick, twisted means. Probably wants to get you killed. But
you can still run – you have to fight!” She meant to sound strong, but her
voice cracked on the last few words.

“I think you’re wrong,” he said coolly, still keeping his distance from her.
Then he said the words she hoped she would never hear him say.

“I think you should forget about me, about us. I told you in the beginning it wouldn’t work. We’re too different.”

“What? How can you say that now? You’re
the one who pursued this relationship. We . . . we love each other.”

“Now who’s being a fool, Ginny?”

Ignoring his snide remark, she ranted, “Draco, he is pulling your strings, all
because of your father’s screw-up at the Department of Mysteries—”

“My father did not screw up,” he said, enunciating each word carefully. She
crossed her arms and rolled her eyes.

“No, of course not. He meant to get caught
because Azkaban’s so lovely in the summertime.”

His nostrils flared. But instead of taking the bait,
he surprised her by turning the tables.

“Look, you need put all this behind you and move on. Just think, Ginny – Harry
Potter. The poor sod’s been drooling over you for months now. Sounds like all
your girlish dreams are coming true.”

“You bastard,” she hissed as she charged at him, hands flailing at his arms and
face. He caught her by the wrists and forced her arms down to her side. Being
so close to him, she could see how despondent and how very tired he really was.

Feeling defeated, he sighed. “All right, maybe I do love you. But if I did, I’d be a dead man if anyone knew . . . so it
doesn’t matter anymore. Go back to Gryffindor, and when
Potter asks you out, say yes. Shag his brains
out, if that’s what you want.”

“No, that’s not what I want!” she insisted. Tears filled her eyes. Wrapping her
arms around his neck, she said softly, “It’s you, Draco. You know you’re the
only man I want.”

“I am not a man, Ginny. I am just a coward running
errands for a being that goes round killing his own kind.”

“Then don't tell me that you love me. I cannot bear for you to walk away from
me, knowing that you have those feelings for me.”

“I told you, it doesn’t matter what I feel.” He said nothing more. She could
see the pain in his eyes and knew this was killing him, even more than it was her.

Draco heaved a sigh and turned as if to leave. With a wave of his hand, the
coin appeared in his palm. He held it out to her. She refused to take it and
backed away, shaking her head.

“You-you can’t mean it, Draco,” she pleaded with him, her vision so blurred she
could barely see the image on the coin. “Please, don’t do this.”

He looked at her stoically. “It’s for the best, Ginny. In a few more days,
you’ll never want to see me again . . . not once I break your heart.”

“Break my heart? What are you t-talking about?” she
sputtered. She found it difficult to get the words out. “You won’t break my
heart. You wouldn’t – I know you!”

“But I will. I don’t want to,
but . . . I told you before, I don’t have a choice. If I do survive, you’ll end
up hating me.”

“Don’t talk like that! Of course, you’ll survive!” She sniffed then bit her lip
as the tears streamed down her cheeks. Suddenly, a sobering thought crossed her
mind. “Were you assigned to kill Harry, or someone in my family?”

Instead of answering, he reached out for her and placed the coin into her
unwilling hand. Then he framed her face with his hands and said, “Go back to
Gryffindor. It’s where you belong.” He gave her one last, long languid kiss
that took her breath away just before leaving.

Standing in the doorway, he gazed at her. She could have sworn she saw a single
tear trickle down the side of his cheek.

“Goodbye, Ginny Weasley. Be on your guard for something big to happen.”

* * * * *

As
the days turned into weeks, she tried desperately to forget about Draco Malfoy
– but it wasn’t easy, considering he kept staring at
her from across the Great Hall at every single meal. The longing in his eyes
was undeniable. She wished he still had his coin. Ginny held onto both of them
for now, taking them with her everywhere, hoping he might change his mind. She
was tempted to speak with Dumbledore on his behalf, but she didn’t
want to do anything that might put Draco in jeopardy.

April gave way to May. One Monday morning, Ginny decided it was high time she
stopped trying to steal glances of the Slytherin table. The evening before
that, Pansy Parkinson had caught her staring at their table. The Gryffindor was
looking directly at the boy whom the dark-haired witch possessively called ‘her
boyfriend’.

Wanting to avoid any nasty confrontations that involved Draco, Ginny tried to
give her undivided attention to what Harry was saying. He was telling her how
badly he wanted not to have to go back and live with his Muggle relatives once
school got out. They seemed to have this conversation every spring, around the
time of the Quidditch Final.

Picking a strawberry out of the oatmeal she had been playing with, she said,
“It sounds dreadful. I don’t know how you do it, Harry.”

“Well, I’d much rather spend my summer with you. I
mean, at the Burrow,” he added quickly. Changing the subject, he laughed. “Can
you believe it? Our last Quidditch match is this week.”

“I know, what a year, huh? I’m so glad Katie’s back. Gives a good fighting chance.”

Ginny regretted the words the minute they left her lips. It must have sounded
like she never thought Dean was a very good Chaser. Hoping Harry wouldn’t notice that she was blushing, she set about
finishing the rest of her oatmeal. But he didn’t
comment and instead offered to walk her to her first class. She smiled in
agreement. Casting a glance over her shoulder toward Draco and his housemates,
she left the Great Hall in mild disappointment . . . because this time, he wasn’t looking back. Still, she could feel his cold grey
eyes on her back and the hate that radiated from them as Harry placed his hand
in the small of her back and gently guided her out the door.

The rest of the week was a blur for Ginny. Harry hexed Draco, thinking that Sectumsempra was a routine jinx that would do minimal
damage. Instead, he practically killed him. It was all she could do not to kill
Harry. She wanted to rush to Draco’s side and comfort
him, but she knew that would be disastrous, for her as well as him. Even
sneaking into the hospital wing at night using Harry’s invisibility cloak would
be risky.

To keep her mind occupied, she focused on the upcoming Quidditch match. She
wanted to help Gryffindor win the house cup, so she boosted her mood with a
Cheering Charm just before the game. Their victory was brilliant, and she was
ecstatic. Afterward, she let Harry kiss her, even responded positively . . .
she don’t know what came over her. How could she
betray Draco like that?

Then that horrible, tragic night came. The big event Draco had told her to be
ready for. Death Eaters were inside Hogwarts, and with
them, Fenrir Greyback, the
notorious werewolf who was known for biting people
while not transformed in an attempt to infect as many humans as possible. She
was terrified, even though Harry had given her, Ron, and Hermione a dose of
Felix Felicis to make them lucky and strengthen their
courage. Courage was what they needed most right now.

In spite of their luck, so much evil happened in a matter of hours. So many
lives were changed, destroyed, taken . . .

Ginny could barely rest that night, unable to stop her thoughts or her tears.
She kept mulling everything over in her mind, thinking of all that had
happened, and contemplating how different everything was going to be. Was Bill
doomed to the life of a werewolf? Would they close Hogwarts? How could
Dumbledore be gone? Would she ever see Draco again? Would he come back, or
would he end up in Azkaban in a cell close to his father’s?
But he hadn’t killed anyone, or used an
Unforgivable Curse – had he?

But no answers came to the questions that filled her
mind.

All of a sudden, she sat up with a gasp that left her feeling hollow inside. It
was as if she had been hit in the stomach with a
Bludger that was going 50 miles an hour and the air was gradually leaving her
body.

No. It couldn’t have been him – not Dumbledore. The
man trusted him . . . He made him a Prefect, for heaven’s sake!

She swallowed hard. Draco didn’t actually think he
would have the power to . . .

How could he have been given so large a task as killing Professor Dumbledore?
It would have been a suicide mission. The Hogwarts’ headmaster was far too
powerful to be taken down by the likes of Draco
Malfoy.

No wonder he was so afraid.

Ginny was relieved that he hadn’t gone through with
it. But she had to face the facts: He would
have, if he’d have had the courage. She shuddered at what might have been, had Draco won that Felix Felicis
instead of Harry in their Advanced Potions class.

But I know him! He wouldn’t
have done it. It’s not in him. He only did it . . . to
save his family. His wretched, worthless parents. Not worth two House-Elves put together.

Anguished tears flowed down her pillow. I
hate them both. I hate them for putting their son in
peril like that. Selfish, hateful people . . . they deserve to die.

Ginny awoke the next morning, determined to help Harry bring about Voldemort’s downfall. It was the only
thing that stood between her and what she truly wanted: To save the man she
loved from a life of servitude to the Dark Lord. And
that . . . well, surely that would be simple, compared to the monumental
challenge she was facing now.

She was the only one who knew the real Draco Malfoy, other than maybe his
parents, if they knew their son at all. Now she would have to convince everyone
who mattered to her that Draco was not an evil Death Eater. She had seen
his forearm, and there was no mark. He had been coerced by
people he trusted . . . coerced into attempting something he was not prepared
for, and he didn’t have the fortitude to refuse. He was an innocent, a
puppet.

Yes, Draco had threatened Professor Dumbledore, but it wasn’t
because he hated him or wanted him to die. He only did it to save his wretched
family. A family not worthy of his love.

Facing the arduous task of persuading so many others who were dead-set against
Draco would take all her cunning, as well as a few select memories. She had to
get her hands on a Pensieve. It was the only way.

Dumbledore had one. I wonder if Harry still has the
latest password to his office . . .

Standing before the mirror, Ginny brushed her hair quickly. There wasn’t a moment to lose. She practically ran down the
staircase to the common room. “Harry!” she called. “Wait up!”

~The End~

Notes: Hope there was enough angst for you. I prefer a hopeful ending; if you were just looking for a
good cry, you could stop reading it before she woke up the next morning. Thank
you for reading. Comments appreciated!
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The Lost Room