Devils and Dust

Chapter Eight


Draco made his way toward the potions lab and scowled at the few students who were unlucky enough to meet his gaze. He had decided to skip dinner as he’d found that he was in no mood to eat and had proceeded directly to the Headmaster’s office as requested.

Dumbledore had predictably wanted him to recount the exact details of what had happened obviously not having had the heart to question Ginny. And his recounting of the tale had made the reality of his father’s death come sharply into focus.

Lucius Malfoy was dead. Draco would never see him again. Ever.

Despite their estrangement from Draco’s choice to not follow Voldemort, Draco had always held some small reserve of hope that maybe his father would someday come to his senses. He had always respected his father’s intelligence and he had been sure that Lucius would eventually realize that Voldemort was nothing but a madman.

But now the chance that his father would someday come to regret his actions, would someday live up to the great expectations Draco had held of him as a child, were dashed upon the sharp rocks of reality.

Death had cemented his father’s actions for eternity and the last thing Lucius had done, the last memories Draco had of his father, who had commanded so much respect from him in his youth, were of him torturing a helpless and innocent girl.

It made him sick to think that he’d ever respected his father, but it could not quite erase the years and years that he had wanted nothing more then to grow up exactly like him.. The conflicting emotions jarred painfully against each other in his head and he felt as if he were at war with himself.

He needed to talk to someone who understood divided loyalties. Someone who understood that not everything was black and white, and the only person that came to mind was his head of house.

Although Snape certainly didn’t make a habit of having heart to hearts with Draco, he had always been there to guide him when he most needed it. And if there was ever a time that he needed guidance it was now.

With this in mind he opened the dungeon door, hoping that Snape would be there working on potions as he often was.

But instead of finding his savior he found his tormenter. Here, turning to face him, a surprised look fleeting across her face, was the anguished and broken girl who represented all of his father that was evil and tainted.

He felt a sweeping wave of guilt and self loathing move through him and he stopped just steps inside the doorway.

What would this poor girl say if she knew that some part of him was grieving for the man that had tortured her for months?

She would hate him as he hated himself.

Ginny turned at the sound of him entering and was too startled to speak for a moment.

“Draco,” she began haltingly, “ I didn’t think anyone..that is...what are you doing here?”

In spite of his inner turmoil a faint flutter of amusement stirred within him, and he used it to force a familiar expression onto his face. He quirked his brow and smirked hoping she wouldn’t see past his facade.

“Forgive me, but I find it rather funny that a Gryffindor is questioning me, a Slytherin, about being in the Potions Dungeons. What, if I may ask, are you doing so far away from your righteous tower?”

She found herself frowning at him and she didn’t know why. By all appearances he was amused and slightly irritated which would be a logical reaction to finding her in a typically Slytherin area of the school.

But she’d seen a flash of something when he had first entered, quickly masked of course, and if she wasn’t mistaken, and she of all people should recognize it, it had been misery.

She was herself masking her considerable torment and misery, so she had no reason to be bothered by someone else doing it. But she was. She was very bothered indeed.

“There’s no reason for you to put on a show for me,” she said sharply, pausing for a moment to stir her potion and slap her ladle on the table before turning once more to face him. “I’m the last person that would be fooled into thinking everything for you is just peachy keen. You’re just as miserable as I am and it’s insulting and disrespectful to what we’ve been through to pretend with me.”

She was no less surprised than he at her emotional outburst, and she couldn’t understand why she was so bothered by his pretending when nothing else seemed to be able to penetrate the deep fog of ambivalence that surrounded her. Nothing except her brother and his friends anyway. They had pierced right through it, bringing out not the healthy and somewhat normal anger Draco had provoked but a much more devestating rage that had seemed to tear into her as much as them.

He was indeed surprised by her outburst, so much so that for a moment he could do nothing but stare at her. But the anger that had been boiling within him quickly rose to the surface.

“How dare you! How dare you to presume that you know anything about me! And we,” he said softly, with a razor sharp emphasis on the word, “haven’t been through anything. I rescued you and was in your company for all of two hours. That does not give you some insight into my character. That does not mean that you know me!”

Her face was flushed and her eyes bright with fury as she took several steps toward him, stopping with mere inches separating them.

“Yes, we only spent a total of two hours together,” she hissed into his face, furious that he could just brush off their experience like it was nothing, “ but in those two hours you saw me striped bare of my protections and pretensions. You saw me striped down bare to the soul.”

She brought her hand up between them, turning it left and right, staring at the her fingertips, before flipping her hand to show him what commanded her attention so. When he saw that there was blood staining them, his father’s blood, for a moment he couldn’t breathe.

“And I saw your eyes, saw your emotions unguarded and unmasked when I slit your father’s throat and his body fell between us,” she said softly, with no sympathy in her voice. No sympathy, but a soft kind of understanding. “I saw your pain and your relief as the life bled out of his eyes.”

She took a step back and regaining a little calm said quietly, “ So I would appreciate it if you didn’t treat me like some stranger that you had a butterbeer with in Hogsmede. I would appreciate it if you didn’t trivialize an experience that was painful and life- altering...for both of us.”

His anger faltered and faded as he saw the understanding in her eyes. She knew that he grieved for his father, and she didn’t hate him for it.

If she, who his father had wronged most, could understand his grief, then maybe it was acceptable. It lifted some of the guilt that weighed so heavily on him., and he was grateful. And he let that show in his eyes. He dropped his mask, because it was indeed foolish for him to pretend with her.

“Thank you. For understanding..I mean. And..I apologize,” he said sincerely. “My life was altered..and I’m not sure yet how I’m going to deal with it all.”

“We’re kind of in the same boat you and I,” he continued with a slight smile. “No reason that we can’t sail the bitter torrents together.”

She found herself smiling back at him, and although it was tinged with sadness and bitterness it was still the first real smile to cross her face in months.

“I suppose your right. Misery loves company, after all.”

Her stomach chose that moment to make it know that she was hungry and the rumble of it startled them both.

“Well I guess misery loves food too,” she said nervously as she glanced away from him.

It was still too soon for her to cope with the dining hall but maybe....

“I know a secret way into the kitchens and the house elves are always happy to make anything you’d like. That is..I mean..if you want..we could..”

“That sounds great,” he hurried to assure her. He himself hadn’t been able to make himself face the great hall.

“Well,” she began, looking around the room nervously, “ my potion is at a point that it can simmer for a while, but Snape should be back soon with the rest of the ingredients and I don’t think he’d like it very much if I just left.”

“Far be it for me to deny a student their dinner,” Snape said quietly, stepping into the room from a doorway leading to his personal office, startling them both and making them wonder just exactly how much he had overheard.

“Are you sure Professor,” Ginny began tentatively, afraid of ruining her newfound situation that was sure to be her only respite in the hard days to come.

He interrupted her with a wave of his hand. “Yes, yes, I’m sure. Just make sure you’re back in time to add the last ingredient. It is after all your potion, and I won’t finish it for you,” he finished somewhat gruffly.

“Of course Professor, I won’t be more than thirty minutes I assure you.”

He nodded curtly and returned to his quarters, his brows drawn down in a thoughtful expression.

They made their way to the kitchens in something of a strained silence. After discussing such private and personal things it was hard for both of them to make the transition to small talk.

It was Draco who finally broke the silence.

“So, it seems you’ve jumped right back into the swing of things,” he began. “Barely back two hours and your already working on a potion.”

“Well, Potions isn’t my best subject and I’ve missed a lot of classes. I’m planning on using my time after class to catch up.” And to avoid my brother and his friends, she added silently to herself.

“Well, I’m fairly good at potions. If you ever need any help I’d be more than willing.”

“That would be nice,” she said quietly as they turned the corner and were greeted by the sight of a mass of students leaving the Dining hall.

Ginny stopped abruptly as did Draco.

I’m not ready for this, she thought frantically, trying to beat down the fluttering of panic within her.

He could almost feel her panic sizzling in the air between them and raised his hand to comfort her, but dropped it before it ever reached it’s destination; remembering that she didn’t like to be touched and that he wasn’t the sort to offer.

He seemed to be having a lot of reactions and emotions that he wasn’t used to when he was around her.

One student broke from the crowd, making his way toward Ginny at a run.

It was Colin Creevy, who she had been close friends with for the last few years. The friendship, which had began in a shared fascination with Harry had become deeper as they had both outgrown their hero worship.

“Ginny, it’s so good to see you,” he said with a brillant smile as he crushed her in a hug.

Unable to control her reaction, Ginny flinched. He felt it and pulled back slowly, his smile dimming.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, realization and sadness reflected in his eyes as he stepped back away from her.

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” she said firmly, trying to convince herself as much as him. “I’m just a little...I just can’t....you startled me,” she finished lamely, knowing that her reaction had given away much more than she would have liked.

He started to say something, but he was interrupted by a young girl who had made her way to them.

By her robes Ginny could tell that she was a Hufflepuff, but she was no one Ginny recognized. Still, as puzzled as Ginny was by the girls arrival, she was glad for it. One more kind word from Colin might have broken her.

But her relief faded, replaced by icy sharp pinpricks of pain when the girl spoke.

“Hi, I know you don’t know me. But I’m a friend of Justin Fitch-Fletchley’s and he’s been missing for months and I was just wondering if you’d seen him, you know..where you were,” the girl finished awkwardly.

Ginny’s whole demeanor changed. Her body stiffened and for a moment her eyes were wild as the memory of the Crucio curse coursed through her, making her whole body twitch. But then as if a flip had been switched her eyes went cold and empty.

The rapid changed startled the girl, and Draco and Colin also.

“The last time I saw him he was alive,” she said flatly.

The girl sighed in relief and started to speak, no doubt to ask more questions, but Ginny interrupted her.

“Hopefully his situation has changed and he’s feeding worms, it would be an improvement,” she said bitterly.

Ignoring the girl’s gasp she turned to the equally shocked faces of Colin and Draco. “Forgive me, but I find I’m not feeling well. I think I’m going to go to my room.”

And with that she abruptly turned and headed up the stairs, the sound of the girls cries echoing in her ears.

Ginny had made it halfway to the tower before the effort of walking became to much.

She picked a room at random, and it took all the effort she had to shut the door firmly behind her before she sank to the floor. Her body started to shake violently, as she relived the pain of the curse and with it came other memories of what had been done to her. All though she was now free of the camp, she would never be free of the memories.

She wanted more than anything to recapture the fog that had mercifully dulled her emotions and helped her escape from herself when she’d been back at the camp.

She suddenly remembered her half finished potion and her dry laugh echoed eerily in the empty room.

Not even a whole hour had passed since made her arrangment with Snape and already she was shirking her responsibilities.

The thought of her potion brought a sudden vivid picture of the Potions storeroom. It was a large room containing the means to make a thousand different potions. And if there was one thing she’d learned in her years at Hogwarts, it was that there was a potion for everything.

There had to be something she could take to dull the pain raging through her body and the memories that threatened to tear her mind to shreds.

She stood slowly, using the door to support her. She felt a new renewal of strength as she thought of the Potions storeroom and it’s breadth of possibilities. It contained her salvation and nothing would stop her from getting it.

Several hours later Ginny sat on her bed, the curtains on her bed warded against entry with a strong sound and smell barrier on them for good measure.

She had gone back to the Potion’s dungeon and in the process of finishing her potion had managed to steal the ingredients she needed for the potion she had found in her book.

It was a potion used frequently by healers on terminally ill patients in extreme pain. Something meant to make their last days pass pain free in a dazed stupor. It was, she had read, highly addictive, although that wasn’t much of an issue for healers as the patients they used it on weren’t alive long enough to develop it.

It was also possible to make it in varying strengths, and she had found just the right dosage to allow her to function normally with no one the wiser. At least that’s what she hoped.

“Only one way to find out,” she whispered to herself as she tilted the small cauldron up to her mouth and drank.


AN:Feel free to let me know what you think of the story so far. Do you love it? Do you hate it? Is it just too blah to have an opinion either way. I really am a vain little shit and I'd love to here what you think good or bad. Although if it's bad I'll hunt you down and bash you with a hammer. Just kidding. I don't even own a hammer, I swear. ;) Zookyyook