Disclaimer: JK Rowling made up all the characters, not me!

 

A/N: Hmm, I’m feeling very evil right now. Why? Oh, just because I’ve decided this will be my last chapter to this story. I planned on writing another chapter after this, but changed my mind just because I’m evil ^__^ But it’s rather long, which is why it took so long to get finished, and if you read the A/N at the end maybe you’ll feel a little better. So, here’s the final chapter of Wrongfully Accused, I do hope you enjoy.

 

 

Chapter Fifteen

Things Fall Into Place

 

 

Ginny had to swallow the lump in her throat as she stared at Lucius, dead and still on the floor. She’d never liked him, and probably never would have, but she hadn’t exactly wanted him to die. Watching him rot in Azkaban would’ve been enough.

If Voldemort will kill one of his allies, she thought, then he’ll have no trouble killing me and Draco.

As if he ever had trouble killing anybody, she added almost sarcastically in her mind.

“Don’t worry,” Voldemort said coolly, causing her to look up sharply at him. He was staring at her, a humorless smile on his horrible face. “You’ll be joining him shortly.”

“Why?” Draco cut in suddenly. Ginny stared at his profile, trying to read his thoughts. Wasn’t he the least bit upset his father was dead? Of course, this is Draco, she realized. He’s probably hiding whatever feelings he has. “Why kill us?” he continued at Voldemort. “Why not let us go?”

Ginny nudged him, trying to get him to stop talking. Why was he asking such a stupid question? Voldemort killed just because he could. He didn’t need a reason. There was no way he’d let them go alive.

Voldemort’s cold smile seemed to broaden. “I’m going to kill you,” he said quietly, “because it will bring me much pleasure.” Then all amusement dropped off his expression. “I know you realize what a failure you were to your father. But did you know that you’re an even bigger failure to me?”

Draco sneered. “I’m sorry, you’ve mistaken me for someone who cares,” he retorted.

Draco, are you begging to be killed? Ginny wondered, gaping at him in wonder. How could he look so calm and unaffected? Ginny could feel her own heart pounding wildly in her chest, as if demanding to be free, and could feel beads of sweat, that definitely weren’t coming from her wet hair, rolling down her forehead and the sides of her cheeks.

But then something caught Ginny’s eye. She glanced down and saw Draco’s hand by his side. He was clenching and unclenching his fist, and she could see it visibly shaking. So he is scared, Ginny told herself. She wasn’t sure if that should’ve brought her comfort, because it sure didn’t.

“I had such high expectations for you, Draco,” the Dark Lord said, ignoring Draco’s comment.

Then there was a long stretch of silence. Ginny was sure that her thudding heart was echoing off the walls, and plainly heard by Voldemort. For some reason it terrified her even more that he knew she was afraid. Of course, he didn’t have to hear anything; just one glance at her trembling form and pale, sweaty face gave away her misery.

“I’m not going to waste anymore time,” Voldemort announced suddenly, raising his wand once again. “Since I’m feeling merciful today, I won’t bother torturing you. I’ll just kill you.”

Draco muttered something under his breath that Ginny couldn’t understand. But it didn’t matter; she was too busy worrying about what was to come. Her heart seemed to skip several beats, and it took all her strength not to dive behind Draco for protection. No matter what, she wasn’t going to chicken out or break down crying.

But it was still hard.

Voldemort moved his wand from Draco to Ginny, pointing it straight at her chest. She barely had time to intake a breath before he muttered the words of the Killing Curse.

There was a flash of green, and Ginny couldn’t even scream she was so terrified. Everything seemed to happen so quickly. What happened after that passed in a blur as well.

Draco suddenly shouted out, a word that she could scarcely understand. Then she felt rough hands on her upper arm, shoving her violently to the side. She lost her balance and started to topple down.

As she fell, she could feel the curse as it whizzed passed. It was all she could see, actually. It was obviously Draco who had shoved her out of the way. She hadn’t been prepared for it, plus he’d used such force that it’d caused her to fall hard onto one hand she shoved out to greet the stone ground. The flash of green light had whooshed nearly directly above her. It continued by and exploded into the wall on the other side of the cavern.

Draco saved me, she thought, hardly able to believe she was alive. He helped me dodge the Killing Curse!

She looked up sharply, now afraid that Voldemort would be angry and turn and kill Draco. To her relief, and fear, she saw that Draco had his own wand out and was pointing it at the Dark Lord.

Is he stupid? Ginny’s mind shrieked. He’s going to get himself killed! He can’t duel Voldemort and win!

“Stupid boy,” Voldemort hissed. He opened his mouth to say more when Draco suddenly dropped to the ground on his stomach, holding his wand up at aiming it around Voldemort’s knees.

“Boleriato!” he whispered.

Ginny watched as an orangey-red light burst from the end of Draco’s wand and collided with Voldemort’s legs. She was well aware it was Dark magic, and if it had been performed on a normal person they would’ve been incinerated instantly.

But Voldemort wasn’t a normal person. The curse merely knocked his feet out from under him, and his trousers briefly erupted into flames before they were gone, having no affect on him. He had collapsed onto his back heavily, and Ginny hoped the cracking noise she heard was his head hitting the stone.

“Ginny!” Draco snapped at her, causing her to jerk her attention to him. “Get in the water! Now!”

Ginny nodded, happy to obey. She turned and scrambled up, walking on her feet and hands till she reached the water edge. Behind her, she heard Voldemort’s voice yell, “Derola!”

She paused, half in the water, turning her head back to see what sort of curse it was. She watched as it hit the stone ground just before where Draco’s head was. Yes! she thought. He missed!

A second later, she recognized that Lord Voldemort hadn’t missed – he had meant to hit the stone before Draco. It burst into a shower of pebbles, raining down on Draco’s head. She saw him squeeze his eyes shut and look down at the floor, trying to protect his face.

This is insane, she thought, retreating back into the water on wobbly legs. He’s trying to fight a battle he’s going to lose. He’s just going to get himself killed!

Even so, why was she just sitting there watching? She dropped into the water, her feet resting on the bottom, but floating mostly to keep upright. Should I help? she wondered. Well, of course she should help, two against one were definitely better odds. Still, they were both going to be killed, why fight . . . ?

Because we’ve got to try, she told herself firmly, reaching into her pocket with trembling fingers to get her wand. She pulled it out and pointed it at Voldemort. But she froze, staring with her mouth open, unable to say anything.

The instant after his spell had hit near Draco, Voldemort had gotten back to his feet; barely touched by the curse that had shot at him.  Even from a distance, Ginny could tell that it had only served to make him furious. He strode rapidly to Draco, who was still on his stomach, wand arm pointed out, the last bit of small rocks dropping into his fair hair. And he still had his eyes closed, his face inches from the floor.

Draco suddenly heard Voldemort approaching and froze, looking up when the Dark Lord stopped just before his head. There seemed to be a long stretch where no one made a sound. Ginny watched from the water, too horrified to move, knowing that she should do something before Draco was hurt. But she just couldn’t seem to function.

“Do you really think you can win?” sneered Voldemort, bending down and snatching Draco’s wand from his hand. “You really are stupid.”

Draco quickly sat up, without the usual Malfoy grace, and threw a glance at Ginny. Then he returned his eyes to Voldemort and began hurrying backwards on his hands, trying to get away from the Dark Lord. Voldemort merely stepped after him, an awful smile on his face.  He was clearly enjoying every moment of what was happening.

“You can’t get away from me,” he taunted as Draco continued to scuttle backwards. Voldemort followed him until he bumped against a wall, stopping suddenly, realizing he really couldn’t get away.

Okay, Ginny, now would be the time to do something, she told herself, and raised her wand. Then she shouted the first spell that came to her mind. “Neramio!”

It was as if Voldemort saw it coming. As the jet of white light shot towards him, he turned his head almost lazily and stepped backwards out of the way. He barely even flinched when it hit the wall beside him and caused several pieces of stone to burst into the air, though on the ground Draco covered his head with his arms.

“Expelliarmus,” Voldemort said quickly.

Ginny should’ve known he would do that. She desperately tried to cling onto her wand, but couldn’t hold it tight enough. It slipped through her fingers. She jumped forward, flopping stomach-first into the water to try and grab it, but it was no use. By the time she managed to get erect again, her wand was firmly in Voldemort’s left hand. He smirked at her and threw it across the room, and she watched, feeling dread soak through her, as it bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor. There was no way she could get it. Voldemort would be able to stop her before she even made it out of the water.

“You both are really beginning to annoy me,” he drawled. “You keep fighting even though you cannot win.” He paused, as if thinking, before going on. With a flick of his wand, he said loudly, “Lerashioma.”

Ginny winced, bracing herself for a curse to come flying at her. But nothing erupted from the end of Voldemort’s wand. For a long moment there was nothing but silence.

What did he do? she wondered frantically, beginning to shiver from what she hoped was the cold water and not fear. He must’ve done something! Why isn’t anything happening?

A moment later, something did happen. Movement caught her eye and she snapped her head around. She saw something thin, a dark green color, spreading along the huge cavern walls from an invisible source. It moved swiftly, like snakes, slithering over the stone and covering it in moments. The noise it made greatly resembled the rustling of leaves.

Ginny squinted as she whipped her head around, watching as it turned the once brown stone into a thick wall of green. At first she’d thought they were snakes, but her theory was quickly smothered when she noticed they had leaves. They were some sort of vines, growing along the stone, enveloping it.

It's going to do something, she realized, fear sticking her in place. It’s going to become vicious somehow and grab at me.

Her eyes followed the vines as they glided down the wall smoothly, disappearing down into the water. By now the room had become much darker, being that the walls were a shade of dark emeralds, and even the waterfall seemed to have quieted, as if holding its breath in suspense. Ginny’s breathing became louder and shallower as she looked down into the water, waiting for the leaves to spread along the floor and grab her ankles, pulling her under.

But that never happened.

Instead, a loud noise came from behind her; the noise of something large bursting from underneath the surface. She could feel the ripple of the water behind her, lapping at her back, and somehow managed to turn her body to see what was going on.

The vines had converged underwater to make one huge plant. It looked almost like a gigantic fern, except with darker and different shaped leaves. It rose from the water, towering above Ginny, so high she had to tilt her face up to see the top of it.

Oh . . . she thought, suddenly feeling nauseous with fright. Oh . . . this is not good . . .

Her eyes skimmed down towards the middle of the huge fern, and saw something that no longer classified it as a plant, but rather, an animal. There was a hole, a mouth really, only black and seemingly endless, with many rows of sharp, surprisingly white teeth. It seemed to bear them at her, threatening her, snapping its vines that resembled arms; snapping them almost like whips.

Run! she thought automatically. Get out of the water! Get away from this thing!

She spun in the water as quickly as possible and started using her legs to run towards where Draco and Voldemort were. In the back of her mind, she realized that even out of the water the Thing could reach out one of its arm vines and grab her, dragging her back in. She tried not to dwell on it and kept pushing her way, difficulty in the water, towards the “shore”.

Of course, she never got there.

Up to her thighs in water, she suddenly felt something slide around her waist. Stopping with a gasp, and looking down, she saw that, as she had feared would happen, one of the leafy branches had wrapped itself firmly around her middle.

For the first time she didn’t contemplate, or freeze in terror; she reacted instantly. She latched her hands onto the vine, which had wound itself around about three times. It was now starting to squeeze. With as much force as she could muster, she dug her fingernails and tips into the leaves. Unfortunately, the branch was about as thin as ivy, and she ended up scratching it at, only tearing a few leaves off in the process. She was probably doing no damage except angering the Thing.

It suddenly jerked on the vine, so suddenly and brutally that it yanked her down into the water and onto her back. She kicked her arms and legs wildly, letting out a short shriek. When she went to inhale, she accidentally did so when she’d sunk a little down under the surface, and ended up sucking in water. Lifting her head, she coughed violently, trying to clear her throat again. Her hair, wet and dripping, clung to her face. Fortunately, at this moment, the Thing must’ve been letting her catch her breath and it didn’t tug anymore on its branch. She managed to get her knees firmly on the stone beneath the water.  The surface of the water was at her chest, and she continued coughing. Every time she tired to breath in, her hair was vacuumed into her mouth, once again choking her.  Annoyed, she wiped it out of her face and tried to shakily get to her feet. 

Yet the Thing gave another almighty tug, and she was abruptly pulled back towards it, once again falling under the water. Underneath the surface she could hear the roaring of the waterfall, and though she’d been pulled so far under that her fingertips barely reached up, she could hear her feet lashing out and kicking madly. She struggled, water filling her nose, flooding her ears, blurring her vision . . . bubbles floating all around her, bursting at the surface that seemed so far away and unreachable . . .

Her eyesight was misty and her hair was hovering around her face and tickling her cheeks.  Despite this, she could see that the other vines were continually slapping at the top of the surface and sinking down a bit, only to be lifted once again.  The branch around her waist still held on firmly, and somehow it kept her exactly in place. No matter how much she struggled, no matter how much she fought, she couldn’t get free.

She panicked. It was like being in the sinking Cell Bus all over again. Already her body was begging for air. She went from pulling on the vine around her middle to attempting to break herself free by squirming and then, once she was free, try and swim to the top. Neither tactic worked. If anything, the vine was only getting tighter, as if trying to wring the already limited air in her lungs.

I’m going to die! she thought. If I don’t get loose I’m really going to die!

And still, she tried. Nothing worked. It seemed as if this Thing was going to drown her and then eat her. She, vaguely, thought that maybe she should be thankful for not being eaten to death, but as her lungs began to burn, reaching the point of pain, it made her think differently.

Drowning was not going to be a fun way to die.

* * *

Draco was watching, and yet he wasn’t doing anything.

His back was firmly against the wall, his knees were pulled up, and Voldemort was standing a few yards away, near the water’s edge, watching as the mutant plant dragged Ginny under and kept her there. He knew that he could easily jump up and tackle Voldemort from behind, and maybe grab his wand back. Or  he could shove him into the water, thus keeping him busy for the few moments Draco would need to run and grab Ginny’s wand across the room.

But he did nothing.

Looking back, he never really understood why he just sat there, feeling his insides trembling like a frightened child. Maybe it was because he’d never been so absolutely terrified in his life. He just couldn’t make his body function. Why should I risk my life for Ginny’s? he wondered, trying to reassure himself that if Ginny died it absolutely would not be his fault. Even if I do save her from that plant Voldemort’ll kill us both. Why save her from one death and bring her to another?

After a moment, Voldemort spun sharply and walked back, standing before Draco once more. He had a pleased smile on his face. “Lictus plant,” he announced. “It lives in every body of water there is and feeds on human flesh – after it's drowned its victim.”

Draco glanced quickly back at the water. There was a tremendous amount of splashing, but he didn’t know if it was from the plant or Ginny. He swallowed as subtly as he could and flicked his eyes back up to Voldemort.

The Dark Lord’s smile disappeared and he looked serious. “Do you know why I killed your father, Draco?”

Draco managed to narrow his eyes an instant before looking down. He spat out with as much venom as he could possess, “Because you could.”

Voldemort’s cold laugh seemed to bounce off the walls, echoing throughout the cavern. “Of course I could,” he said. “But there is something you must understand, Draco. I don’t kill without a reason.”

“I find that hard to believe,” he scoffed, raising his eyes to Voldemort without moving his head.

His expression sobered. “Believe it,” he snapped shortly.

“Why did you try to kill Potter?” Draco demanded. “He wasn’t a threat to you. He was just an infant, wasn’t he?”

“Don’t talk about things,” he hissed viciously, “that you don’t understand. I have my reasons for trying to kill Potter. It was unfortunate for the woman that she got in the way.”

Draco tried another tactic. “Then why kill us? Why kill Ginny?” His throat tightened suddenly at the mention of her name, and he had to swallow once again before continuing. “What the hell did we do to you?”

“I had never intended on killing you,” he replied, his red eyes slits. “You were to take Lucius’s place. But somehow you must’ve been raised incorrectly, and you ended up helping the Weasley girl.”

“Why is she so important to you?” Draco pressed through gritted teeth. “That’s what I don’t understand.” By now he was feeling slightly stupid and inferior.  He was sitting the on the ground, only able to have a full view of The Dark Lord's face by craning his neck. He settled on just staring at the ground, even though it made him look like a coward.

Who knew? He probably was a coward. After all, he hadn’t tried to save Ginny from that plant monster. It’s not my fault anyway, he thought fiercely. I’m not her brother or anything. I don’t have to save her every single time she’s in danger.

“Ah,” Voldemort said, an icy smile curling his thin lips, cutting Draco’s thoughts short. “I shall tell you that. I can see that you have developed a fondness for her,” he added, sounding disgusted. Pausing, he looked back over his shoulder at the water. The plant was still moving violently, as though there were still a struggle going on.

She’s bound to be unconscious by now, Draco realized. She’s been under there for nearly three minutes, at least. Any second now the plant will eat her corpse . . .

“Did the girl ever tell you about what happened during her first year at Hogwarts?” Voldemort demanded sharply.

Slightly distracted, Draco said vaguely, “No.”

“Your father gave her a diary,” said Voldemort.

Draco suddenly knew what he was talking about and interrupted quietly. “Father told me already. He slipped your old diary into one of Ginny’s schoolbooks. And then your . . . memory took her over and forced her to open the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Do you know what the Chamber of Secrets is, Draco?” Voldemort’s voice was now a whisper, and it contained excitement.

Draco honestly didn’t give a rat’s arse what the Chamber of Secrets was, but he knew that Voldemort was being more than generous in sparing his life for another few moments to tell him, at least, the reason Ginny was dying. Maybe she was already dead. So he thought back to the time when he’d demanded his father tell him exactly what the Chamber of Secrets held. “It was supposed to contain some sort of horror,” Draco began, proud of himself for sounding a tad bit bored, “that would kill every unworthy student at Hogwarts when released.”

“Yes,” Voldemort confirmed. “What sort of horror?”

“How the hell should I know?” Draco snapped, feeling annoyance. What is this, a lesson? he wondered, frowning.

The Dark Lord ignored his tone and attitude. “Potter thought he’d discovered the horror,” he continued explaining. “He thought he’d destroyed it when he killed the serpent during his second year.”

“What does this have anything to do with Ginny?” Draco cried.

“Everything. Ginny opened the Chamber of Secrets with my help. My memory’s help. Only direct descendents of Salazar Slytherin can open the chamber.” He did not go on, and Draco thought for a second that maybe he was supposed to figure out what he meant. He had no clue whatsoever.

“And?” he asked, waiting.

“That horror is still within the chamber,” Voldemort said, his eyes dancing oddly.

“Isn’t the chamber still open?” Draco interrupted. Wouldn’t it, whatever it is, have gotten out by now?

“No. That fool Dumbledore managed to close it sometime after it had been opened,” Voldemort snapped bitterly.

“So,” Draco started slowly, starting to understand slightly, “you want to open the Chamber of Secrets again and release that horror.”

“Precisely.”

“And I still don’t know what that has to do with Ginny.”

“She’s the only one who can open it,” said Lord Voldemort simply.

Draco actually forgot all about the plant and Ginny’s demise and puzzled for a moment. That statement had made absolutely no sense. “Ginny’s a descendent of Slytherin?” he asked rather stupidly.

Voldemort gave him a look of complete irritation. “You idiot,” he shouted. Whenever he became angry, Draco noticed, he still managed to look lazy about it. “If she was, then she wouldn’t have been placed in Gryffindor.”

“Well, I don’t understand!” Draco shot back. “How can she be the only one to open it if she isn’t a descendent? You said that only ancestors of Slytherin –”

“I am aware of what I said. But something went wrong. Something happened when my memory managed to open the chamber through Ginny’s body.”

There was a long pause. Draco found himself anticipating impatiently what exactly had happened. “What?” he demanded harshly, hardly able to wait.

“The spell that Salazar placed on the chamber, the spell that only allowed his descendents to open it, must’ve vanished when Ginny opened it,” he explained, sounding far off. “I’ve attempted to open it several times by now, and I can’t.”

Draco realized his mouth was hanging open slightly, and he clamped it shut. “Ginny’s the only one who can open the Chamber of Secrets? You can’t?”

“I did not think that this would happen,” Voldemort snapped almost calmly. “If I had then I would’ve sucked the life from her and opened the chamber as my old self. I assumed it would be easier inside the chamber, surrounded by Dark Magic . . .”

“If you want Ginny so you can open the Chamber of Secrets, then why did my father have her framed and sent to Azkaban?” Draco insisted. “There’s no connection.”

“Of course there is,” Voldemort said with forced patience. “In Azkaban, we can easily get her. But if she’s at home, surrounded by her family, it’s nearly impossible. Dumbledore has been sure to put protective charms not only around Potter, but also around the Weasleys and that Muggle family and their Mudblood daughter: the Grangers . . . the stupid fool has thought of nearly everything."

“By getting her convicted and sent to Azkaban, I took her out of Dumbledore’s protection.” He flashed a humorless smile. “Everything that she witnessed was planned. I was torturing Lucius, oh yes, but he knew to say that Ginny did it. I helped him make the Veritaserum that was used on her, and everything went smoothly. Until, of course, the bus crashed and she somehow lived. Because you helped her.”

Draco had to bite his tongue from retorting. He’d already lived longer than he expected – behind Voldemort, the plant was still thrashing about, though Ginny had surely gone unconscious by now. And he knew the reason all this had happened to them; the reason all this had happened to her. Just because she was needed to open the Chamber of –

“Wait,” Draco said suddenly, frowning as he thought of something. “If you need her, then why are you killing her?”

Voldemort stared at him for the longest time without expression, and for an instant Draco actually figured that maybe he’d suddenly realized made a mistake. But then his face contorted into a look of impatience, and he snarled, “Have you not been listening to a word I said? I only need her body. Since I opened the chamber once through her, and without me she would’ve never been able to do it, then I only need her body, dead or alive. And dead is much easier, for she won’t be able to fight at all.”

“You can possess a dead body?” Now Draco was just buying time. Though, he wondered, buying time for what?

“Yes,” Voldemort angrily replied. “It’s much simpler than a live one.”

“I think you’ve just confused me more,” Draco said, squirming. What am I doing? he thought, then answered his own question. I’m prolonging the inevitable, that’s what I’m doing. And it won’t last for long. Voldemort won’t want to sit here and answer my questions for much longer.

Yet Voldemort answered, even if it was exasperatedly. “Ginny’s body is the key to opening the chamber. But my spirit is also what is needed. I can’t do it by myself, and she couldn’t do it by herself. We’re both needed.”

“But –” he started.

“Enough!” the Dark Lord barked, raising a hand. “I’ve explained to you as much as you need to know.” He lifted his wand hand and pointed the tip down at Draco’s chest. He gave a horrible smile. “Pity . . .” he murmured. “You could’ve been so much more, Draco.”

Draco was horrified to find himself squeezing his eyes shut, but it was more like a reflex that he couldn’t stop. He waited, and waited, for the words Avada Kedrava to hit his ears. But the words never came.

Instead, a loud, booming voice that seemed ten times larger than Voldemort’s ever had, echoed throughout the chamber. “VOLDEMORT!”

Draco’s eyes flew open in surprise, just in time to see Voldemort slowly turn around. For one wild instance Draco thought that Ginny had somehow gotten out of the water and managed to get her wand.

But that’s not who he saw. Standing a few yards away, wand pointed directly at the Dark Lord, was Albus Dumbledore.

Draco was gaping and he knew it. Thousands of thoughts ran through his mind at that point, none of them rational. His heart seemed to leap in his throat in shock as he stared, slightly leaning to the side to see around Voldemort’s legs.

Dumbledore looked absolutely terrifying. Draco could see it even from the distance he was at. He could almost hear his old Headmaster fuming in anger, his face flushed, blue eyes turned to hard, icy stone. And at that all Draco could think was, I’m glad he’s on our side.

Draco had heard somewhere that the only man that Voldemort feared was Dumbledore. Leaning forward a bit more and tilting his head up, Draco could see the Dark Lord’s face, and it was far from frightened. In fact, he looked a cross between amused and . . . well, happy.

“Dumbledore,” he said silkily, slowly. “You old fool. Come to duel me, have you?”

“If that is what it comes to,” Dumbledore replied coldly. He flicked his gaze down at Draco, as if signaling something to him. Miraculously, Draco knew what he meant. He was telling him to move.

Well, he’d do that gladly. But he’d also free Ginny in the process. If, he added somewhat reluctantly, there’s still life in Ginny to be saved.

Voldemort still had his wand, and Ginny’s was all the way on the other side of the cavern, somewhere behind Dumbledore. Though that was where he needed to go, for it was the only wand available at the moment. He was going to get it – he’d just have to trust that Dumbledore would know how to block any curses that Voldemort hurled at him to try and stop him.

Draco didn’t waste much time. While Dumbledore glared at Voldemort, who smiled lazily back, Draco crawled to his feet quickly. He put a spurt of speed into his legs and sprinted as fast as he could across the cavern; he’d probably never run faster in his life. He was halfway to Dumbledore before Voldemort started to shout a curse to prevent him from going any further.

“Inerado!” Voldemort shouted.

“Oerana!” Dumbledore yelled immediately after, jumping forward slightly. Draco could see what happened out of the corner of his eye; the orange light that came from the tip of Voldemort’s wand was hurtling after him, but the white light from Dumbledore’s wand intercepted it. The two lights emerged, and in an instant, sizzled and went out.

Draco was now safely behind Dumbledore; any more curses the Headmaster would surely be able to stop without a doubt. And he could see Ginny’s wand, near the far wall. He continued to sprint towards it.

Behind him, Voldemort, who’s voice had taken a furious edge to it, said roughly, “Trying to protect the son of one of my most loyal followers?”

“Lucius is no longer your follower, for I believe I see him dead on the floor just over there,” Dumbledore answered smoothly. “And even if he were alive, I would protect him if he ever needed it.”

Voldemort laughed hollowly. “You never cease to amuse me, Dumbledore. I’m sure you would even protect me if I asked you to.”

“No, Voldemort, only you can protect yourself,” he said.

“Typical,” Voldemort scoffed. “You Muggle-loving fool . . .”

“It does begin to get boring being called the same thing repeatedly, Voldemort,” Dumbledore interrupted. “I would guess you get tired of being called ‘that bastard’ don’t you?”

Draco had to let a small smile creep over his face. Score one for Dumbledore, he thought, almost wishing he were still near Voldemort to see the look on his face. But now he was right above Ginny’s wand, and he reached down and snatched it up.

Keep him busy, Headmaster, Draco said, more to himself, silently, and turned to water. He dared not venture too close to the edge, for then Dumbledore might not be able to protect him in time.

The plant had calmed somewhat, though it was still making a lot of noise, snapping its vines everywhere, almost like it was having a tantrum. Draco began to wonder maybe if it’d eaten Ginny already, for he was so busy with Voldemort he might’ve missed it.

But then a flash of red underneath the bubbled water caught his eye, and he saw that she was still there. Underneath the water, most likely near death, if not already dead, but at least not inside the plant.

Draco quickly thought of the Stunning spell he’d learned in Herbology that would stun a plant. He was not used to Ginny’s wand, but it was still a wand, and it would have to work. “Eralinium!” he hissed. A moment later the huge plant froze, half its vines still in midair. The water it sat in continued to bubble, like boiling water, and would do so before it eventually calmed.

He had to wait a moment for it to clear so he could see exactly where Ginny was. He desperately wanted to run in, but Voldemort would surely kill him.

Suddenly, the sound of Voldemort shouting a curse filled Draco’s mind, and he turned his head to see that Dumbledore was already hurling a counter-curse back at him. They’re going to be dueling, he realized. Maybe it’ll distract the Dark Lord long enough for me to get Ginny.

He was willing to take the chance. Ginny’s wand in hand, he ran into the water, then began wading when it got too deep to really move his legs. Fortunately, his feet still touched the bottom when he reached where Ginny was, still held underwater by a vine wrapped around her waist.

Her eyes were closed and she wasn’t moving. Her hair was floating eerily up to the surface, the only thing on her that was waving in the slight current.

She’s dead, he thought, feeling numb. She’s got to be. There’s no way she could be underwater so long and live . . .

Nonetheless, he still used magic to unwrap the vine. He lifted her out of the water and began to pull her along back towards shore, certain to keep her face in the air, until it was shallow enough to hoist her onto his shoulder. She lay there limply, water dripping off her, giving Draco a very bad feeling that she might never move again.

Voldemort and Dumbledore were constantly shouting curses back and forth. Draco glanced at them and saw Dumbledore, surprisingly quick and fast for someone his age, dodging many of the curses while Voldemort merely blocked them with magic.

Yet he couldn’t stand there and watch. He had to tend to Ginny.

A little ways behind Dumbledore, Draco gently lowered her to the ground onto her back. Wiping her wet hair off her bluish face, he stared down at her. Her chest was not moving, and she didn’t bat an eyelash. He pressed two fingers to her neck, and sagged when he couldn’t feel any pulse.

But can’t victims of drowning be brought back to life? he wondered. Within the first five minutes or . . . something.

He wasn’t sure what exactly he should do. He didn’t know how to do Muggle CPR. And he wasn’t sure if he should attempt mouth-to-mouth because wouldn’t that just be blowing the water back into her lungs? He wanted the opposite effect of that.

Now he was beginning to wish he’d paid attention in those few classes they’d been required to take on medical care.

Well, all I need to do is get the water out of her lungs, he thought, feeling shaky. So all he’d need to do was a Salvage Spell, wouldn’t he? Salvage Spells get things out of narrow places – like things wedged into tight places. Maybe that’ll bring the water back out.

Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he used his free hand to pry her mouth open and stuck the tip of the wand against her tongue. “Relavio,” he murmured in an uncertain voice.

It took a moment, but it worked. One instant nothing was happening, and the next, water gushed out of Ginny’s throat, almost as fast as a water fountain. Draco leaned back, slightly surprised, as the now-warm water ran down Ginny’s cheeks and over his hand that was keeping her mouth open. It went on for only a few seconds, yet it seemed like a long time. She must’ve swallowed a hell of a lot of water, he thought. But deep down he was feeling relieved – getting her lungs water-free was the first step to reviving her.

She did not start breathing, nor did her pulse start back up.

Now he could do mouth-to-mouth.

He’d never done it before, but it had to be fairly simple. He’d seen it done one day when he was in Muggle London with his mother, when an old man had suddenly keeled over in the street and a passerby had dropped down and started giving him mouth-to-mouth and CPR. Unlike CPR, which required knowledge or else the victim might be hurt, mouth-to-mouth had to be relatively harmless when performed by someone who had no idea what they were doing. At least that’s what Draco hoped.

He set her wand down and pinched her nostrils shut. Then, after taking another deep breath, he covered her mouth with his. He exhaled somewhat slowly before pulling back, inhaling again, and repeating the procedure.

Draco wasn’t sure how many times he did it. Once, out of the corner of his eye, he’d seen her chest rise, and he’d gotten a bit excited. Though when he’d pulled back, and she hadn’t continued breathing on her own, he figured it must’ve been just his air going into her lungs.

“Oh, come on, Ginny,” he muttered, and leaned back down.

Maybe the tenth or eleventh time he breathed into her mouth, and just when he was about ready to give up, she twitched under him. It was like she’d gotten shocked. Draco lifted his head and released her nose. Her eyes were still closed, but she abruptly started coughing violently, the bluish tinge leaving her face.

She was alive.

Draco smiled brightly and, for the first time in a while, genuinely. He gently slid his hand under her head to lift it off the stone while she continued to cough, trying to catch her breath.

After she gasped in a few breaths without coughing, her eyes fluttered open. She looked up and saw him. “Draco?” she croaked. “Oh, God, am I alive?”

He nodded. “Yes, you’re alive. Unfortunately for me.”

She made an odd noise, and Draco noticed she was trying to laugh. She cut it off, though, and winced. “Ow, don’t make me laugh. It hurts.” Then she sat up, with Draco’s help, and saw Dumbledore and Voldemort, still dueling, on the other end of the cavern. “Is that Dumbledore?” she whispered.

“The one and only,” Draco replied back in an equally hushed tone. “Come on, can you stand?”

He put his arm around her back, hooking it under far arm, while his other hand gripped the nearest arm and began to raise her into a sitting position. Slowly and carefully, he helped her rise. She was a bit wobbly on her feet at first, and she clutched the front of his wet shirt to keep her balance.

Draco had been so intent on keeping her up without letting her drop, it took him a moment to notice that the chamber had become quiet – empty of any sound except the waterfall. He tossed his hair out of his eyes, and glanced back over at Voldemort and Dumbledore, thinking for a moment that maybe one of them had won.

But they were both still standing, wands still pointed at each other warily. Neither of them made a move to try and curse the other. Voldemort, whose face was the only Draco could see, was glaring at Dumbledore so maliciously that for a moment Draco thought he would lose all calmness and just snap. Instead, he glanced over Dumbledore’s shoulder, at Draco and Ginny, then back to the Headmaster.

A leisurely smile spread across his face, even though his red eyes were still flaming. “She lives,” he muttered, as if almost to himself. Draco had to strain to hear. “And so I shall return.”

Dumbledore seemed to realize exactly what Voldemort was going to do, but he reacted too late. He yelled out, “Avada Kedrava!” and waved his wand, flinging the curse at the Dark Lord. For a moment, Draco tensed, feeling Ginny lean harder against him for support, thinking that maybe Dumbledore had gotten him this time; he would not be able to dodge this one.

As the Killing Curse raced towards him, there was a loud Pop! The green light burst into the wall behind where Voldemort had been standing, just a moment ago. Draco seemed to blink, and it was all over.

He, Dumbledore, and Ginny were the only ones left in the chamber. Nearby, where Voldemort had been standing, was Draco’s wand.

“Where’d he go?” Draco asked.

Dumbledore’s shoulders seemed to sag, and he turned around to face them. He gave them a very faint smile and said, “Apparated. He has fled.”

“Well, where is he now?” Draco said. “Will he come back?”

“Eventually,” Dumbledore answered.

“Eventually as in . . . not anytime in the next hour, right?”

“No,” sighed Dumbledore. “But we must leave here. Come, there is a way out.” He raised his wand arm straight up, pointing the wand at the ceiling that seemed ages away. “Elarion,” he murmured, and a moment later, there was a square opening in the ceiling, which cast light down onto the stone floor.

“Is that . . . is that the surface?” Ginny croaked.

Dumbledore smiled weakly again, and nodded. “It leads to the Malfoy’s front yard. There are some Aurors with broomsticks up there – I’ll Apparate and send them down.”

“Wait,” Draco insisted. His arm was still wrapped firmly around Ginny’s shoulders. “How’d you know to come find us?”

“The Weasleys, of course.” Dumbledore’s smile broadened. “When they read Ginny’s note they contacted me immediately.”

Draco glanced at Ginny, who was also smiling, but it was more with relief and gratitude. “What note?” he asked her.

She looked at him. “I left a note, telling Mum and Dad where I was going. I just didn’t want them to worry about me, though I was expecting to be home before they woke up in the morning.” Then she turned her face to Dumbledore. “But of all places, how’d you know we were down here?”

“The Tracking Spell helped,” he answered. Now his expression was more like the Dumbledore Draco knew – slightly wrinkled, happy, and with twinkling blue eyes. “Voldemort had placed a rather powerful one on you, Draco. I could feel it the minute we arrived.”

“So you followed us down here from the Tracking Spell,” Ginny figured.

“But we were in the water,” Draco said. “Didn’t that throw you off?”

“Yes, it did,” Dumbledore admitted. “Yet I, with a handful of Aurors, followed the spell until the place where it suddenly stopped. I happened to remember that there was a large underground chamber with a spring quite a distance beneath Malfoy Manor, for it, back when there was no running water, used to be the source of water to the manor and the nearby village. I Apparated ahead, figuring that perhaps it was where you were.

“Most of it was just sheer good luck, actually,” Dumbledore mused. “I managed to Apparate to the exact place where you were.”

“And you saved us,” Draco finished.

“For the time being, yes,” Dumbledore allowed. “But Voldemort won’t give up just because he couldn’t get you once. He’ll try again.”

Ginny shivered, pressing her body closer to Draco’s.

“I’ll be sure to protect you in any way I can,” Dumbledore continued gently, trying to reassure her. “With charms and such. But until Voldemort is defeated, I’m afraid you can never be too safe.”

* * *

Back up in fresh air again, wrapped in drying blankets provided by the Ministry, Draco and Ginny sat on the grass in the Malfoy’s front lawn. The yard was teeming with Auror’s, all bustling and moving about, going in and out of the house, occasionally shouting to one another.

The Weasleys were on their way at that very moment, and somehow, Ginny found herself enjoying just sitting just with Draco without saying a word much more than being with her family at that moment.

A medi-wizard had come already and checked them, fixing Draco’s nose and the cuts in his wrists from the rope cords. After he pronounced them in good health, and after they told the story repeatedly of how Lucius died to the Aurors, they were both allowed to sit alone, ordered not be bothered.

It was nearing afternoon. We were down there all night and morning, Ginny thought, wrapping the blanket closer around her shoulders. And we’re still alive.

Dumbledore walked up to them then, a somber look on his face. “Ginny,” he said, “there is no Minister for the time being. They have temporarily made me Minister until the end of the summer and until the new school year starts again, I'll be in charge of the Ministry. Then they will find someone else.”

Ginny stared at him, wondering why he was telling her this. “And?” she blurted before she could stop herself.

“And . . . I’m allowing you to be re-tried for the use of an Unforgivable Curse,” he told her, and grinned. “You will be given the Veritaserum once more, a Veritaserum that I will make.”

Ginny found herself grinning back. Finding energy still left in her, she shrugged the blanket off her, jumped to her feet, and threw her arms around Dumbledore’s neck, giving him a hug. He chuckled and patted her head.

Then, she suddenly remembered something. Dropping her arms to her sides, she took a slight step back and exclaimed, “Oh! I have this . . .” She started to dig into her pocket. Is it still there? she wondered. And to her surprise and happiness, her fingers curled around the small book. Pulling it out, she reached for her wand and returned it to its original size. “Various Veritaserums,” she read proudly, handing it to him. “This is the book Lucius most likely used to make that false Veritaserum he gave to me.”

Dumbledore’s eyes brightened as they ran over the cover. “Wonderful. This will help to prove your innocence.”

“Thank you, sir, for everything,” Ginny told him, unable to stop smiling. Dumbledore winked faintly at her before he turned and left them. Ginny, still looking after him, slowly lowered herself back to the ground. Out of the corner of her eye she saw that Draco was staring at her, and she turned her head sharply to him. “What?” she inquired, noticing that he had his lips curled upwards into what resembled a grin.

“Nothing,” he replied lazily, leaning back on his hands and looking away. The breeze lifted the fair hair on his forehead, making it dance, and Ginny felt that familiar tingle in her stomach.

“Draco,” she said seriously, scooting closer and turning her body towards him, “we’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”

She watched the corners of his mouth slowly drop, but when he turned his eyes on hers she could see the amusement in them. “You know the answer to that one, Ginny,” he told her.

She took a deep breath, and without even giving a thought to her dignity, jumped right to the point. “After all that, after how many times we’ve come so close to death, don’t you think we should be together? Or, at the very least, give it a try?”

He stared at her for the longest time, his eyes somber now, his face without expression, before answering. At last, he reached up to brush a strand of hair off his forehead and finally answered, “What do you think, Ginny?”

She opened her mouth to reply, but then realized she wasn’t sure what he was asking her. What did she think his answer was going to be? Or what did she think about how their relationship would be like? “I’ve already told you what I think,” she whispered after a moment.

Draco looked at her intently, as though studying her. Then he lifted a hand and placed it on her hair, smoothing it down. It was a very un-Draco thing to do, and Ginny tried to read his expression. But he would not meet her eyes – with a blank face, he appeared to be interested in her hair, even though he stopped stroking it after a second, and without meaning to she leaned her head into his palm.

Minutes passed, or, to Ginny, that’s what it seemed like. Draco finally gave a deep sigh, and locked his eyes on hers. Gradually he brought his mouth to hers, and gave her a very gentle, soft kiss. It was over before she had time to acknowledge it had begun, though, when he pulled away, her lips were still tingling with his warmth.

He then smirked, amused once again, and said quietly, “I leave it to you to protect me from your brothers.”

Ginny blinked, and Draco began to laugh. It was a real laugh, with humor and merriment, and in a second she’d joined in with him. He’s going to try, she thought, moving even closer to him. He’s going to give us a try.

They might’ve laughed for a very long time, unable to stop, but they soon were in another kiss, and suddenly, Ginny forgot all about laughing.

Everything was suddenly different. In only a few days she’d gone from running from the Ministry, trying to keep her freedom for just a bit longer, to running from Voldemort, trying to keep her life. But it had changed.

She was now completely and totally free.

 

THE END

 

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Well, that’s all, folks!

 

Thank you to everyone who’s reviewed, and especially to everyone who’s followed the story from the beginning. I really appreciate it, and it was because of you that I kept going.

 

I would like to give a very, very special thanks to Christine just for being a wonderful beta, and also to her mother, Trish, who beta’d this chapter. And more special thanks to Archer, wmlaw, Zoemma (aka ChildLikeTendencies), Strega Brava, and summerthyme for reviewing from the day chapter one came out all the way to fourteen. I do believe those were the only ones, but if you did so and I didn’t name you, I’m sorry and thanks to you, too.

 

I had a very sudden plot bunny attack, which is why I let Voldemort live. He will be in the sequel – he will be the cause of the sequel. Which is why it’s called Lord Voldemort’s Game.

 

Thanks to all those who reviewed!

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