It had always bothered Draco that he was never made privy to the exact happenings of the affair of The Chamber of Secrets. It was always promised to him that with patience and obedience all things would be his. Knowledge, power, even revenge.
Then again, many things were promised to him. Things that he had counted on, things that he had dreamt about, things that all disappeared when his father was caught. And now? With his father imprisoned and the wizarding world at war, who was to say what would become of him and all those promises.
So it was that every night he looked through his father’s most secret things. The things they never found when they raided the manor. The secrets vault behind the top most portrait in the study. The one that only a drop of Malfoy blood could open.
And so he learned the truth about many things, but not everything. The plans of the Dark Lord were peeled away like the skin of an onion, only to leave more mysteries, more plans within plans.
At school all of the tables had turned. The once proud Draco, pureblooded and fierce minded, had become the lowest of low. Even among the Slytherins he was outcast. The other houses hated him because of what his father did and the Slytherins hated him because his father got caught and even worst were the teachers. Snape’s questioning looks, his hesitance to get too close. McGonagall’s quiet loathing and her refusal to even talk to him. The one that made him the most furious was Dumbledore. He always gave him his most concerned look. A look of sorrow and a look of fleeting hope.
“Mister Malfoy, I do not make any illusions about your feelings towards me, but I need you to know that if you ever want to speak to me about anything, my door is specifically open to you.”
Then he let his glasses fall forward on his nose and looked Draco right in the eyes.
But out of all the people in the school, he found his attention falling on a most unlikely source. The one person who had been closest to the Dark Lord. He Who Shall Not Be Named. He who had forgotten about the Malfoy family now that they were of no use.
“Why do you keep staring at me, Malfoy?” Ginny said, her eyes were bright with anger.
Malfoy tried to hold in a smile. It wasn’t hard since he didn’t smile much anymore. Gone were the days of mocking the Gryffindor and chuckling with Crabbe and Goyle. Still, he was amused by her. There was something irresistibly cute about this innocent girl looking so furious. All of her little girl impudence. He knew what lay under that patina of purity. He knew about the secrets the Dark Lord had whispered into those ears, the words those curious eyes had drank in for so many nights.
He didn’t answer her when she asked why he stared at her, but there was some realization that flashed in those blue eyes. She always tried to stair him down, but he could break her. He could always break her.
“Alright Malfoy, we are going to end this once and for all.” Ginny said, filled with anger, but trying not to be overheard.
Draco finished packing up his books without looking up at her. His lack of ability in Care of Magical Creatures combined with her aptitude had placed them in the same class. He waited until the rest of the students files out to look at her.
“Oh are we?” he said with a bored tone.
“I want to know why you keep staring at me. I want to know what you are up to,” she said, standing in front of him, blocking his way out of the class.
“Fine,” he said with a huff. “But because of the subject matter, we may want to discuss this in private,” his tone was dark and businesslike.
She swallowed hard, not knowing what it was about, but having some idea that it had to do with the dark happening of two years ago. She was unsure about how much Draco knew.
Ginny followed Draco down a familiar hallway until they got to a nondescript door. Draco opened it quickly, looking around the hallway to make sure no one saw. Ginny followed him into the room with her head down.
The room, surprisingly, was a very quiet and rather dark study. It looked very different from any of the libraries in the school because it was adored with very fine very dark mahogany bookshelves and silver candelabras which held black candlesticks, whose crimson flames gave the place an evil air.
“This looks like my father’s study.” He said in awe, walking around, touching one of the bookshelves and marveling at it.
“I mean… not exactly. It is shaped a bit differently and there are no portraits, but it’s… the same style. What room is this?”
“It’s the Room of Requirement. We used it for our… meetings.” Ginny said defiantly, knowing it would anger him.
He eyed her with scorn and she looked away.
“It becomes what ever kind of room is necessary.”
She fought with herself to stand up straight, to be brave and look him in the eye, but something about him made her so frightened, so passive.
“I see,” he said with distain and lingering curiosity.
Draco turned and stared directly at her, making Ginny squirm uncomfortable
“Well, I suppose this would happen eventually. I have been staring at you because I am curious. I am curious about what’s so special about you.”
She eyed him with confusion and curiosity.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
She froze a bit as he moved closer and looked her up and down more closely.
“Special. I mean… with everything that happened that year. With the Chamber.”
The word hung in the air, making her breath catch.
“I read all about it in my father’s notes, you see. About how He Who Shall Not Be Named spoke to you, though that book,” he said the six word title of the Dark Lord with irony as if saying He Who You People Shall Not Name.
Ginny was still and wide eyed. Paralyzed with fear and flushed with shame. She gathered her strength.
“You want to know because you are a filthy Deatheater!”
The word made him cut his eyes at her, but then he collected himself and smiled again.
“After all that has happened, I find myself in the middle of this little war. Voldemort has forgotten my father now that he is in Azkaban, ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ thinks I am evil… My mother doesn’t know what to do with me. Frankly I am not wanted by either side,” he spat, realizing that it was one of the only times in his life that he said that name out loud. There was something so freeing about saying these things out loud. Something told him that little Ginny would never tell anyone about this conversation. She was too ashamed about her connection to the Dark Lord.
Ginny looked him up and down, trying to figure out this person she hardly knew, but had always detested. His eloquent way of stating things seemed foreign to her, since he had only ever heard him speak in insults and snide remarks.
“What do you want, Malfoy?” she was sure she wouldn’t give him what ever it was he wanted, but she wanted to get to the end of this little meeting.
He moved closer to her and she moved back until her back was against a bookshelf.
“I want to know more about what happened. At first it interested me why my father picked you… then I learned he was under orders to do so…”
A clock behind them chimed 10 times, low frightening chimes, like death tolls.
“I… I have to go to Divination.” She squeaked, cursing herself for letting her voice crack with the tension.
“Fine.” He blocked her way out. “But meet me here tomorrow before Care of Magical Creatures. I want to talk to you about this.”
She eyed him cautiously.
“Or I supposed I could ask around about it… other people may have information…”
She stared daggers at him.
“Fine. I will answer your stupid questions. Just don’t say anything. If I find out you talked to anyone about this, you will have five of my brothers at your door.”
Her face was as red as her hair as she walked around him and out the door.
That night the dreams came back to Ginny Weasley. She had almost forgotten about them and Dumbledore’s magic had mostly erased the facts from her mind, but some things couldn’t be erased. Some things were written on her soul. Written in the dark script that haunted her.
Mixed with images of neatly written seductions were visions of snakes, slithering around in the shadows and the cold eyes of Draco Malfoy. His face staring down at her as she wrote in the journal.
The last image that flashed in her mind before she woke up was her nude body laying on a sea of white sheets and Draco, writing on her perfect white skin with a huge black quill.
The next day, the Room of Requirement had changed a bit. It was still designed with the same dark wood and black candles, but there were two large leather chairs in the center of the room with a small coffee table in front of them with a variety of large crystal bottles liquor.
“Ah, this is like the East Wing Smoking Room.” Draco said with a wrinkle of his brow, feeling the dark leather chair with a pleased sigh.
“Does every room in your house look like a vampire lives in it?”
“Ah yes, well I am sure not every house can be as charming as… what do you call it? ‘The Burrow’?”
He smiled wickedly.
It had only been a minute or two in Draco’s presence and her face was already red with anger.
He sensed her anger and so he sat down and began.
“Well, let’s get down to it. What do you remember?”
His voice was businesslike again, as if he were some kind of psychiatrist.
She slowly walked to the other chair and sat down, looking ridiculously small and fragile in the large chair.
“I don’t know why you expect me to tell you about this,” she said, sitting stiffly in the chair.
He studied her.
“It isn’t like I am going to tell anyone… anyhow those who wish to know about such things probably do.” He looked down, he seemed more bitter and sad then she had ever seen him.
“Fine. I will tell you, if it gets you to stop staring at me. I mean, I don’t even remember anything. It is mostly images. Professor Dumbledore erased a lot of my memory.”
He sat back in the chair with his hands on the arms.
“But you do remember something, don’t you?”
“I have… dreams. Dreams of… snakes and of writing.” She was starting to shake a bit and her eyes burned. She closed them tightly for a second, because she refused to let Draco Malfoy of all people see her cry.
“I see the dark basement of the school sometimes and bits and pieces of a fight. Then I remember being in Dumbledore’s office.”
She paused, thinking.
“Oh and I also remember the bathroom, going up into the bathroom and throwing the book into the last stall.”
He seemed more serious then she had ever seen him. He thought about all she had said.
“What about before all of that. Do you remember when you first started writing in the journal?”
“Yes. I thought it was some kind of game at first. It was very nice, once I figured it out. I wrote a whole entry, like it was my journal and then the ink just disappeared and it said ‘My name is Tom Riddle, what’s yours?’ and so I answered it.”
She was too wrapped up in memories to realize that the tears where not on her cheeks.
Draco was hypnotized by her. Watching her recall her darkest memories, so full of emotion. It sparked something in him, he wasn’t sure what, but he enjoyed it very much.
“I would jump into bed and write to him every night before going to sleep. He was very nice and very curious. He was always asking about the wizarding world and about Harry and Dumbledore and so on. He… he was very nice to me.”
She looked down and her voice lowered a bit.
“Then he started asking me to do things. Simple things at first, like to go and find his old prefect badge. He had left it down in the Potions room, behind the big ingredients cabinet. Then he asked me to get a book from the library… and then another book from the Restricted Section.”
Draco’s eyes widen at this.
“Y.. yes. He said he needed it to learn why he was trapped in that book. He said he was a student here and somehow a spell went wrong and he was trapped in his journal. He said he was using some magic that was a little.. well.. dark.. and it went wrong. He seemed so nice.” She broke down now, crying into her hands.
Draco stood up. He moved to her and with an awkward attempt at sympathy, patted her on her shoulder. She jumped and stood up with a start.
“Don’t you dare touch me Draco Malfoy! Why are you making me remember these things! Why are blackmailing me into seeing these things?”
Draco moved back. He wasn’t smiling, he wasn’t mocking her, he was just still and silent and frowning slightly.
“Do you know what it is like to follow in someone’s footsteps all your life and then learn that they were a fool?”
She sat back down, staring.
“Do you know what it is like to think one way, have your goals set up and your plans made and to have it all evaporate in one night?”
He sat down too. He swallowed hard and leaned back, looking straight ahead.
“Do you now what it is like to be left powerless while your mother tries to hang herself and the Ministry of Magic looks through your dresser?”
He looked pale, tired, broken.
“I am fighting against both sides, I am just trying to find some hand to play, some bit of something that will give me an edge. When he comes for me… and he will come for me… what do I have? He may just kill me on sight, just because I know too much. Maybe…”
“Dumbledore could protect you!”
Draco laughed once.
“I would rather die a thousand times.”
She looked away.
“I thought you might have seen something… you were close to him… I don’t know.”
They were both looking down, her tears dried, but her eyes still shining. Then the clock chimed and it was time to go to Care of Magical Creatures.
“I guess there is no reason to meet again.,” he said softly.
She looked at him closely.
“Listen… you have options Draco. You don’t have to end up like your father. My father works for the Ministry, you know that…”
He stood up and cut her off.
“We have class. I… I don’t know. I will be here tomorrow. I like this place. You can come if you want.” With that he stormed out.
Draco was lying next to her on a bed. His hands were around her from behind and he was whispering in her ear. They were back in the dark wood room, the smell of black candles, dying roses, the smell of Draco.
“I hate you,” She said, pushing away from him, but not losing contact with his body.
“Good,” he hissed, slipping his hands around her waist and pulled her to him, letting the curves of their bodies line up.
“Tell me to stop,” he said with a dark laugh.
Then his lips were on her neck and the sweet, pretty smell of her hair making him drunk, the taste of her skin so addictive that he wasn’t sure he could stop, not if the whole school came barging in on them.
“I hate you, I hate you!” She shook her head.
He sucked on her earlobe, kissed down to her shoulder, dragging his lips against her freckled flesh. His tongue burning words into her skin. His eyes like a snake.
“You still haven’t told me to stop.” He wasn’t laughing anymore. He wanted her more then anything. More than magic, even.
Now her words became faint, only her caught breath and little moans were heard. Draco smiled against her cheek. His hands moved up and letting her small breasts fill his hands.
Then she woke with a start.
More dreams. Dream of darkness, dreams of danger, dreams of desire… dreams of Draco.
The next day Ginny sat through her first few classes with sweaty palms. She jumped at the slightest sound and she didn’t answer one question correctly.
When the break between Transfiguration and Care of Magical Creatures came, she found herself rushing to the secret room.
When she opened the door she found a different room. Still dark, but with touches of youth. Moving pictures of Quidditch on the wall, framed in large ornate ebony. A large desk with dozens of potions books. A large four poster bed, a large picture window and sitting in the window seat, Draco Malfoy.
“It’s just like my room.” He said, still looking out the window.
She walked in, closing the door. She felt the same sensations she felt when she was alone with Draco, anger fighting with- something else. It was almost like frustration. Wanting to hate him, but becoming more and more curious about him.
“I… guess this is what you required.” Ginny said, just loud enough for him to hear.
He nodded. He seemed sadder then she had ever seen him. He absently played with a pillow that lay on the
“Are you alright Draco?”
“I’m fine.” His voice was cold now.
“Do you want to continue?”
“What do you mean? I have told you everything I remember.”
He looked down and then his eyes moved to the bed, where a scroll lay. He got up and walked over to the scroll and furled it, showing a jumble of letters and characters Ginny didn’t recognize.
He looked at her and then took off his prefect pin and pricked his finger with it. She winced at the sight. He then squeezed his finger over the scroll and the second the blood hit the paper the letters shifted and moved until they formed English.
He read it out loud.
“Our Master has commanded that you deliver the parcel to the School. It is to find the hands of someone innocent, but with enough power to do what is needed. Her body and soul must be pure as must her bloodline. Below you will find four names that will due:
Bethany Mills, Venus Agratha, Ginny Weasely, Hester Whiterock”
She was aghast. She had been told that Lucius Malfoy was behind it, but hearing the words, the orders… it made her sick.
“Why… why are you telling me this?” She said, unsteady on her feet and moving to the opposite side of the bed and sitting down.
“You have been forthcoming with me, which is… admirable. I thought you deserved to know the particulars.”
She sighed deeply, trying to calm herself.
“There is more.” He said, referring to other scrolls under that one. “I understand if it is too much to hear… it’s just… I thought you would be even more curious then I am to find out what really happened.”
She nodded once. He squeezed his finger again, and a smaller drop fell on the next page.
“The Master is pleased to hear that girl has the parcel. Use the artifact to monitor the situation.”
He looked through the papers.
“There is no specific note about what ‘The Artifact’ is, but apparently my father could see in some part what was written in the journal.” He explained, then he got out another page and squeezed his finger over it, only it had dried.
He pricked himself again, this time letting out a little yelp. Ginny jumped and moved a little closer to him on the bed, to see if he was alright.
He looked up at her and held up his crimson covered finger, letting a drop fall on the paper. They looked down and Draco read.
“Everything seems to be going as The Master expected. The girl is falling into his spell. Keep us informed. The Master asks for details of the girl’s seduction. You have never been shy with us Malfoy, please be explicit.”
They looked at each other. Part of Ginny expected Draco to smile with glee, but he looked serious. He looked at her with curiosity.
“Do you remember anything like that? I mean… a seduction.” He asked carefully.
She looked away. It seemed like she didn’t remember any of it at all unless she actively tried to recall the memories. Then they came out in fragments. It was really the first time she had tried to remember.
“I remember- after I got him the book from the restricted section- it changed. He asked me to read passages to him. They were like- spells I didn’t understand. I started to get scared and he told me it was ok, that I didn’t have to read them any more. Then he started asking me if I had a boyfriend. He asked me to describe myself. He told me that red hair was his very favorite thing in the world.”
She could see those words on the paper. She could see it vividly for the first time. That script…
“Oh, Ginevra! Red hair is my very favorite thing in the world.”
She opened her eyes and realized how close she was to Draco and moved back. He seemed a little offended.
“He called you Ginevra?”
Her eyes flashed open. More memories flooded her.
“Yes! I remember that now. He said that Ginny was a little girl name and that he wanted to use my real name. He wanted to be the only one-” She sat in a daze, recalling more bits and pieces.
The clock chimed and they both jumped.
“Oh! We’ll be late!” Ginny said nervously.
Draco got up and got his bag.
“Yes… um… I’m sorry if that was… painful.”
Ginny thought about it for a second, picking up her bag.
“Actually… it is strange. I feel like a weight has been lifted off of me.” She sighed deeply.
She nodded, holding her bag to her chest.
They lied on their sides. Her back to him, his hands slipped under her blouse. Her neck red with kisses and bites. Her cheeks red with lust and shame.
“Pull up your dress.” He commanded in a whisper.
She shook her head. “Please… don’t”
“Tell me to stop and I will.” His voice was commanding, but so smooth it made her body melt. All she could feel was his hot breath on her neck, his hands on her breasts, twisting her nipples and making this uncontrollable itch start inside of her. All she could smell was that dark sweet smell of Draco. Draco, Draco, Draco.
Her eyes were tight, tears slipping out of the corners. She bit her lip hard. He was so bad, so dangerous. Her head spun with the repercussions and still she wanted him. She wanted him to make her do terrible things, dirty things, things that hovered in her dreams written in the dark script, that hand she couldn’t remember, but neither could she forget.
“Pull up your dress and let me touch you.”
She shook her head furiously.
“Don’t make me.” She begged.
“I’m not making you do it, you know you want to. I can smell how much you want it. I know your wet- now pull up your fucking dress.”
Was it silly to be shocked at such language? Somehow it let her know how serious he was. He bit at her neck and she arched her back.
Her hands, pausing in trepidation, gathered up her dress in her fists.
There had never been anything as smooth as her thighs. He spread his long fingers out on her naked hip, moving in and up until the edge of her white panties.
“Please!” Her voice was tiny, sweet, like the chirp of a little bird.
“Please what? Please stop?”
He traced the edge of her underwear.
She turned her head and then her mouth was on his. Her lips on his lips. She kissed him with a hunger he had never felt before. He bit her lip hard.
He hand was still there, between her legs.
She woke and sat upright. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She was breathing fast like she just ran up all the stairs in the school. Her hands were clutched tightly to the blankets.
Ginny had told her self several times that she wouldn’t go. She told herself to end it. She argued and debated and in the end she found herself in front of the door again.
When it opened she saw another room, this one huge and menacing. The ceiling was high and its corners half hid gargoyles that peered down at her with evil glee. The four wide walls were covered in thick crimson curtains, which were embroidered with gold and seemed to be hundreds of years old.
In the center of the room was a huge four poster bed with similar red curtains. The curtains were open, exposing black blankets, a mass of silken pillows and sitting on the edge of the bed was one Draco Malfoy.
Ginny stood with her back to the closed door. The room made her feel tiny, like little red riding hood in the forest of the wolf.
Draco looked sad again. He sat hunched over, looking down at his knees. Ginny let out one little cough to catch his attention and he looked up with a start.
“I wasn’t sure you would come.” He said. It was the same voice from the dream. It was still so fresh in her mind that it made her knees give a little and she leaned on the door for support.
“I wasn’t sure either.” She whispered.
He looked up.
“I can’t hear you all the way over there.”
He looked at her with cold curiosity again, as if she were an insect.
She shuffled forward, eyes on the deep red and gold rugs beneath her feet.
When she got to the edge of the bed she looked up at him. A rogue strand of red hair falling over her face.
“Your father’s room?” she asked, knowing the answer.
“You miss him?” she asked, knowing the answer.
“In a way I suppose.” he paused. “Maybe I miss my life.”
She sat down next to him.
“Listen,” he started. “I don’t want to talk about the Chamber and the journal anymore. I don’t think I am going to find anything that will help me. I am just going to…” He shrugged again.
“I guess I don’t know what I am going to do.”
She put her hand on his knee.
“I understand. You are kind of trapped in the middle of two worlds.” She wanted to say more, but she knew he wouldn’t take any of her advice.
Ginny let herself fall back against the bed. Her hair spreading out around her head and her arms stretched out. The bed was soft, full of feathers and smelled of sweetness and spices.
“He used to ask me dirty things. Later on. After I got him the book. He used to ask me if I kissed a boy. He asked me if I ever thought about kissing a girl. He asked me all kinds of things.”
Draco laid next to her. They both stared at the chandelier above them.
“Now that I think about it, I suppose I had already started blacking out. He was making me do things. I answered his questions, I told him the truth. It felt so exciting, like he was my secret lover.”
Draco turned to her and leaned on his arm, watching her tell her story.
“Later on it got to be even more… He would tell me to do things. Go to class without my knickers on.”
She paused and blushed a little. “He made me touch my breasts and then have me write about how they felt. He made me touch between my legs. He told me how to do it… you know. It felt wonderful. Wonderful and wicked.”
She turned away from Draco, laying on her side.
“Sometimes he called me bad names. I felt hurt at first, but it was the strangest thing. It was like… this mix of being embarrassed and being… aroused.”
Draco moved toward her, putting his hand on her hip and pressing his chest against her back.
“He made me do it to myself in the girls locker room. In the bathroom stall when other girls were there. Sometimes I would even bring the journal to class and he would have me slip my hand under the desk…”
Ginny put her hand on Draco’s and moved it to her breast. Draco’s fingers slowly and gently squeezed as he pressed his harness against her bottom.
“He would make me ask permission to… to…”
“Come?” Draco whispered in her ear.
His hand slithered down the front of her blouse, down to the pleats of her skirt, down to the heat of her. She writhed against him, pressing back at him, urging him on. He kissed her neck and the dream swam in her mind.
“Pull up your skirt for me.” He hissed into her ear.
There was no fighting now, she wanted him to take her, do anything to her, have her in every way. She pulled up her skirt and his hand slipped right into her underwear, down to where the red hair was light and her ecstasy was in fingers reach.
The minute his fine fingers penetrated her, she was moaning, biting his lips when he offered them, drowning in his father’s sheets, the smell of him, the feel of him. Then he was gone.
She looked up and saw that he was kneeling on the bed, his hand on his belt.
“Take off your clothes…” he paused, then that wicked smile flashed across his face, that wicked smile that had been gone for so long. “Take off your clothes for me, Ginevra.”
To be continued?