Things to know…
Title: Not Quite Fate
Summary: Destiny knew better than to bring these two together. One man, determined to draw back an errant Malfoy, is not so wise, and Ginny soon finds herself caught up in events that are not quite Fate.
Rating: PG-13 (for occasional swearing)
Spoilers: This does actually follow HBP, so be forewarned.
Disclaimer: I really don’t think these things are necessary, but no, I am not J.K. Rowling, and no, I’m not getting paid for this. And that covers the entire story.
Okey-dokey, without further ado…
- - - - -
Prologue
Guttering torches provided the only light for the underground complex, filling the space with forbidding shadows. Large stone blocks lined the walls, and here and there whole chunks bore large cracks, so bad in some places that entire sections had fallen away, piling up as rubble on the floor and exposing the raw earth beneath. It was cold, damp, and smelled distinctly of mildew and age. Jonathon Pierce decided that he much preferred the last hideout over this new one, more secure or no.
“I can handle my own son.” Lucius Malfoy’s voice was as controlled as ever, his face the perfect mask of calm, but Pierce didn’t miss the angry glint in the man’s pale eyes.
Lord Voldemort, sitting erect in his chair at the head of the long table, regarded Lucius through unreadable eyes the color of blood. “The incident this summer would say otherwise, Lucius.”
There was a definite flash of rage in Lucius’s gaze this time. “I assure you, my Lord—that matter has been dealt with. Thoroughly.”
A cruel smile curled the corners of Voldemort’s thin lips. “I do not doubt that, Lucius. Nevertheless, I cannot take the chance.”
A hush fell over the table, and Pierce glanced around at his fellow Death Eaters, seeing the same disbelieving look on each and every face.
“So he’s to die?” Lucius finally asked, shattering the quiet with the low-spoken question. “My only heir is to be forfeit?”
Lord Voldemort laughed unexpectedly, the sound mirthless and cold. “Be realistic, Lucius! Too much work has gone into the boy to give up so easily.”
Lucius wore the same confused look Pierce felt. “Lord, forgive me, but I don’t understand. If Draco isn’t…disposed of, and he isn’t willing….”
“Isn’t currently willing,” Voldemort corrected, folding long, ghostly hands before him on the rough wood. “I believe you’ll find that every man can change his mind, and every boy as well.”
Lucius shook his head. “I’ve already tried, my Lord. He’s too stubborn to see reason, no matter what I say or do.”
“Precisely why you will not be handling the matter, as I believe I have already made clear.”
Pierce was quite proud of how well he managed to hold back his smirk at the look of utter frustration on Lucius Malfoy’s normally impassive features. This meeting was proving rather entertaining after all, he thought.
“May I ask,” Lucius began in a deliberately even voice, “who, then, will?”
Lord Voldemort inclined his head ever so slightly, then abruptly shifted his eyes over to Pierce’s, making his heart skip painfully. “Jonathon.”
Pierce’s shock could not have been more complete, and over Lucius’s sputtering he asked, “Me, Lord?”
“But he just got initiated! He’s hardly one of us!” Lucius raged before Voldemort could answer, little pink splotches marring the marble complexion of his cheekbones. “You would place my son’s fate with him?”
“I suggest,” Voldemort murmured, crimson eyes narrowed, “you learn some restraint, Lucius. Before I see fit to teach you.” The color rapidly drained from Lucius’s face, and he clamped his mouth shut with a short nod. Voldemort turned to Pierce. “And yes, Jonathon, you.”
Pierce wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that, but he did know that he now balanced on a very thin wire indeed and chose his words carefully. “I do not question your judgment, Lord, and I am only too happy to do as you wish. But, I have to wonder…why me? I’ve never even seen the boy.”
“Your expertise lies in the manipulation of others, Jonathon,” Voldemort explained, serpentine gaze taking in all assembled, “and perhaps even more importantly, you are new. No one suspects your allegiance to me yet.”
“What does that matter?” Lucius spat, then seeming to realize his less than respectful tone, added a meak, “My Lord.”
Voldemort stared hard at him for a long moment, causing the other man to squirm uncomfortably. “Two reasons, Lucius. One, Draco will not listen to anyone he suspects associated with me.” He turned to address Pierce. “That means you must act discreetly and with absolute subtlety at all costs. I doubt that will be a problem for you.” Pierce shook his head that it would not—the Dark Lord’s earlier statement that manipulation was his special talent was no exaggeration. Voldemort nodded and turned his attention back to Lucius. “Second, Jonathon will need to remain in near constant contact with Draco without raising suspicion. No rumored Death Eater could achieve that.”
Before Lucius could open his mouth, Pierce asked, “How exactly will I manage that?”
Lord Voldemort looked to a Death Eater sitting further down the table, and the other man’s dark eyes stared back from behind a tangled curtain of greasy black hair. A smirk pulled at Voldemort’s mouth, and he said, “Severus, your old job still needs filling, does it not?”
- - - - -
Chapter 1 – Things Change, Life Goes On
Ginny Weasley stood on tiptoe and gave her mother one last hug goodbye, forcing herself to smile when she pulled away.
“You’re sure you’ve got everything, then?” Molly asked for perhaps the hundredth time.
“As sure as I can be,” Ginny said, eyes lowering to the trunk at her feet.
Molly tilted Ginny’s face back up to hers with a finger hooked under her chin, smiling sadly. “I know you don’t want to go back alone, Ginny dear, but you understand why you must, don’t you?”
Ginny pulled free of Molly’s loose grasp on her chin, staring at a point over the woman’s left shoulder. “I could have helped them.”
Molly gave a great sigh. “We’ve been over this, Ginny—”
“But Ron—”
“Will still be completing his education with a tutor and taking his NEWTS as soon as he, Harry, and Hermione all come home,” Molly interrupted firmly.
“And I still don’t see why I couldn’t have just done that too!”
“Because I already had to let one of my children walk into danger,” Molly snapped, tears swimming in her eyes. “I won’t let my baby girl run off too.”
A wave of guilt flooded Ginny at the sight of her mother’s distress, but it couldn’t quite wash away all of her lingering frustration. “Hogwarts wasn’t so safe last year! And that was with Dumbledore alive!”
She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them, and a rush of shame had her casting her eyes downward. To her shock, though, Molly made no admonishment, and a long period of silence drifted between the two Weasley women. These silences were a common occurrence for everyone since Albus Dumbledore’s death—a time of reliving painful memories, mostly.
Finally, Molly said softly, “There’s nowhere left that’s completely safe anymore, Ginny. Hogwarts is as good a place as any, certainly safer than where your brother and Harry are going, and you need to learn all you can. Especially now. Please, Ginny, I’m asking you—just go, and behave.”
Ginny’s eyes slid shut, and she took a slow breath before nodding. “I will, Mum, I promise. I’m sorry.”
Molly folded her youngest daughter into another tight embrace, squeezing the air from her lungs. “You won’t be the only one going back,” Molly promised. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll make some new friends now.”
Ginny knew what Molly really meant by ‘make some new friends.’ She was referring to Harry. The two of them were separated now, for her own safety and for Harry’s peace of mind, but they had sworn to one another before he left in search of the final Horcrux that the moment things settled down, they would pick up right where they left off. For some reason, though, Molly always seemed uncertain where their romance was concerned, and had dropped subtle hints all summer that perhaps it was time for Ginny to move on. Ginny pointedly ignored every one of them—she was in love with Harry, always had been, and she would wait for him to the end of the world.
She didn’t feel like picking another fight just now, though, when only minutes remained before the train left and she wouldn’t see her mum again for months, so she simply smiled and gave a small nod. “Maybe,” she said, then, “Bye, Mum,” and she bent down for her trunk and started off. Just before disappearing through Platform Nine and Three-quarters, she turned, gave a little wave, blew a kiss that Molly returned, and then she was gone.
The platform wasn’t quite what she always remembered from the past, more subdued now, less a bustle of activity. The change didn’t surprise her in the least, though. She knew full well that many of Hogwarts’s former students would not be returning after what happened last year. Even so, the place was still crowded with teenagers hunting down friends or struggling to climb aboard. Shouts and laughter floated through the air, and the smell of the train’s exhaust reached her nostrils. Despite herself, Ginny felt a warm rush of nostalgia at the familiar sensations, and a smile found its way to her lips of its own accord. Taking a moment to breathe it all in and prepare herself, Ginny took the first step, and then the next, and soon she was heaving her trunk up the stairs and flopping into an empty compartment. The Creevey brothers were the only ones to eventually share her compartment, and after a brief greeting the two of them pretty much kept to themselves. It made for a boring ride, but Ginny supposed there were worse things.
They arrived at Hogwarts that evening without a hitch, and the Creevey brothers decided to ride with her in the carriages up to the school, as well, if she didn’t mind. She didn’t, and a short while later the yawning mouth of the Entrance Hall was swallowing them up as they stepped into its warm glow. Following the stream of students, she turned right and made her way to the Great Hall.
The room was entirely different yet blessedly the same all at once. Familiar decorations still adorned the walls and tables, all of which were exactly where they should be, and minus a handful here and there, a surprising number of students sat catching up, their excited chatter flooding the air. It was only when Ginny examined the Head table that the awful difference struck her.
Dumbledore was absent. Instead, Minerva McGonagall sat in the Headmaster’s chair, though Ginny supposed that now it would be called the Headmistress’s chair. Professor Slughorn still occupied the Potions professor’s seat, but someone new resided in the infamous Defense Against the Dark Arts chair, and Ginny studied the man with more than a little curiosity.
Her first thought was that he didn’t look the part at all. He looked almost comical, in fact, though still attractive in an unconventional sort of way. He was really very gangly, tall and thin and slightly awkward, all of his features exaggerated and framed by longish, sandy-blond hair that Molly Weasley would have condemned as exceedingly unkempt. Ginny thought it quite fetching, actually—the tousled, in-need-of-a-trim look suited him. His eyes were round and open, a friendly warm hazel shade that complimented his sand-colored hair nicely.
“All right, settle down!” McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the din, and instantly the Hall fell silent. Her stern gaze swept over the assembly, ensuring its full attention before beginning. “As you all know, some changes have been made to the staff this year. To begin with, I am, of course, now Headmistress. However, I will still be teaching Transfiguration and acting as Head of Gryffindor House, at least until a suitable replacement can be found.”
A quiet murmur rippled through the students at that, and Ginny felt her own admiration for the tough old woman grow. Shouldering both responsibilities would be no easy task.
McGonagall gave the noise a second to die down before she went on. “Secondly, I would like to introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Mr. Jonathon Pierce.” The man waved, a boyish grin worn easily on his mouth, and was met with polite applause. “Professor Pierce,” McGonagall continued, “will also be Slytherin’s new Head of House.”
Title: Not Quite Fate
Summary: Destiny knew better than to bring these two together. One man, determined to draw back an errant Malfoy, is not so wise, and Ginny soon finds herself caught up in events that are not quite Fate.
Rating: PG-13 (for occasional swearing)
Spoilers: This does actually follow HBP, so be forewarned.
Disclaimer: I really don’t think these things are necessary, but no, I am not J.K. Rowling, and no, I’m not getting paid for this. And that covers the entire story.
Okey-dokey, without further ado…
- - - - -
Prologue
Guttering torches provided the only light for the underground complex, filling the space with forbidding shadows. Large stone blocks lined the walls, and here and there whole chunks bore large cracks, so bad in some places that entire sections had fallen away, piling up as rubble on the floor and exposing the raw earth beneath. It was cold, damp, and smelled distinctly of mildew and age. Jonathon Pierce decided that he much preferred the last hideout over this new one, more secure or no.
“I can handle my own son.” Lucius Malfoy’s voice was as controlled as ever, his face the perfect mask of calm, but Pierce didn’t miss the angry glint in the man’s pale eyes.
Lord Voldemort, sitting erect in his chair at the head of the long table, regarded Lucius through unreadable eyes the color of blood. “The incident this summer would say otherwise, Lucius.”
There was a definite flash of rage in Lucius’s gaze this time. “I assure you, my Lord—that matter has been dealt with. Thoroughly.”
A cruel smile curled the corners of Voldemort’s thin lips. “I do not doubt that, Lucius. Nevertheless, I cannot take the chance.”
A hush fell over the table, and Pierce glanced around at his fellow Death Eaters, seeing the same disbelieving look on each and every face.
“So he’s to die?” Lucius finally asked, shattering the quiet with the low-spoken question. “My only heir is to be forfeit?”
Lord Voldemort laughed unexpectedly, the sound mirthless and cold. “Be realistic, Lucius! Too much work has gone into the boy to give up so easily.”
Lucius wore the same confused look Pierce felt. “Lord, forgive me, but I don’t understand. If Draco isn’t…disposed of, and he isn’t willing….”
“Isn’t currently willing,” Voldemort corrected, folding long, ghostly hands before him on the rough wood. “I believe you’ll find that every man can change his mind, and every boy as well.”
Lucius shook his head. “I’ve already tried, my Lord. He’s too stubborn to see reason, no matter what I say or do.”
“Precisely why you will not be handling the matter, as I believe I have already made clear.”
Pierce was quite proud of how well he managed to hold back his smirk at the look of utter frustration on Lucius Malfoy’s normally impassive features. This meeting was proving rather entertaining after all, he thought.
“May I ask,” Lucius began in a deliberately even voice, “who, then, will?”
Lord Voldemort inclined his head ever so slightly, then abruptly shifted his eyes over to Pierce’s, making his heart skip painfully. “Jonathon.”
Pierce’s shock could not have been more complete, and over Lucius’s sputtering he asked, “Me, Lord?”
“But he just got initiated! He’s hardly one of us!” Lucius raged before Voldemort could answer, little pink splotches marring the marble complexion of his cheekbones. “You would place my son’s fate with him?”
“I suggest,” Voldemort murmured, crimson eyes narrowed, “you learn some restraint, Lucius. Before I see fit to teach you.” The color rapidly drained from Lucius’s face, and he clamped his mouth shut with a short nod. Voldemort turned to Pierce. “And yes, Jonathon, you.”
Pierce wasn’t sure exactly how he felt about that, but he did know that he now balanced on a very thin wire indeed and chose his words carefully. “I do not question your judgment, Lord, and I am only too happy to do as you wish. But, I have to wonder…why me? I’ve never even seen the boy.”
“Your expertise lies in the manipulation of others, Jonathon,” Voldemort explained, serpentine gaze taking in all assembled, “and perhaps even more importantly, you are new. No one suspects your allegiance to me yet.”
“What does that matter?” Lucius spat, then seeming to realize his less than respectful tone, added a meak, “My Lord.”
Voldemort stared hard at him for a long moment, causing the other man to squirm uncomfortably. “Two reasons, Lucius. One, Draco will not listen to anyone he suspects associated with me.” He turned to address Pierce. “That means you must act discreetly and with absolute subtlety at all costs. I doubt that will be a problem for you.” Pierce shook his head that it would not—the Dark Lord’s earlier statement that manipulation was his special talent was no exaggeration. Voldemort nodded and turned his attention back to Lucius. “Second, Jonathon will need to remain in near constant contact with Draco without raising suspicion. No rumored Death Eater could achieve that.”
Before Lucius could open his mouth, Pierce asked, “How exactly will I manage that?”
Lord Voldemort looked to a Death Eater sitting further down the table, and the other man’s dark eyes stared back from behind a tangled curtain of greasy black hair. A smirk pulled at Voldemort’s mouth, and he said, “Severus, your old job still needs filling, does it not?”
- - - - -
Chapter 1 – Things Change, Life Goes On
Ginny Weasley stood on tiptoe and gave her mother one last hug goodbye, forcing herself to smile when she pulled away.
“You’re sure you’ve got everything, then?” Molly asked for perhaps the hundredth time.
“As sure as I can be,” Ginny said, eyes lowering to the trunk at her feet.
Molly tilted Ginny’s face back up to hers with a finger hooked under her chin, smiling sadly. “I know you don’t want to go back alone, Ginny dear, but you understand why you must, don’t you?”
Ginny pulled free of Molly’s loose grasp on her chin, staring at a point over the woman’s left shoulder. “I could have helped them.”
Molly gave a great sigh. “We’ve been over this, Ginny—”
“But Ron—”
“Will still be completing his education with a tutor and taking his NEWTS as soon as he, Harry, and Hermione all come home,” Molly interrupted firmly.
“And I still don’t see why I couldn’t have just done that too!”
“Because I already had to let one of my children walk into danger,” Molly snapped, tears swimming in her eyes. “I won’t let my baby girl run off too.”
A wave of guilt flooded Ginny at the sight of her mother’s distress, but it couldn’t quite wash away all of her lingering frustration. “Hogwarts wasn’t so safe last year! And that was with Dumbledore alive!”
She regretted the words as soon as she spoke them, and a rush of shame had her casting her eyes downward. To her shock, though, Molly made no admonishment, and a long period of silence drifted between the two Weasley women. These silences were a common occurrence for everyone since Albus Dumbledore’s death—a time of reliving painful memories, mostly.
Finally, Molly said softly, “There’s nowhere left that’s completely safe anymore, Ginny. Hogwarts is as good a place as any, certainly safer than where your brother and Harry are going, and you need to learn all you can. Especially now. Please, Ginny, I’m asking you—just go, and behave.”
Ginny’s eyes slid shut, and she took a slow breath before nodding. “I will, Mum, I promise. I’m sorry.”
Molly folded her youngest daughter into another tight embrace, squeezing the air from her lungs. “You won’t be the only one going back,” Molly promised. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll make some new friends now.”
Ginny knew what Molly really meant by ‘make some new friends.’ She was referring to Harry. The two of them were separated now, for her own safety and for Harry’s peace of mind, but they had sworn to one another before he left in search of the final Horcrux that the moment things settled down, they would pick up right where they left off. For some reason, though, Molly always seemed uncertain where their romance was concerned, and had dropped subtle hints all summer that perhaps it was time for Ginny to move on. Ginny pointedly ignored every one of them—she was in love with Harry, always had been, and she would wait for him to the end of the world.
She didn’t feel like picking another fight just now, though, when only minutes remained before the train left and she wouldn’t see her mum again for months, so she simply smiled and gave a small nod. “Maybe,” she said, then, “Bye, Mum,” and she bent down for her trunk and started off. Just before disappearing through Platform Nine and Three-quarters, she turned, gave a little wave, blew a kiss that Molly returned, and then she was gone.
The platform wasn’t quite what she always remembered from the past, more subdued now, less a bustle of activity. The change didn’t surprise her in the least, though. She knew full well that many of Hogwarts’s former students would not be returning after what happened last year. Even so, the place was still crowded with teenagers hunting down friends or struggling to climb aboard. Shouts and laughter floated through the air, and the smell of the train’s exhaust reached her nostrils. Despite herself, Ginny felt a warm rush of nostalgia at the familiar sensations, and a smile found its way to her lips of its own accord. Taking a moment to breathe it all in and prepare herself, Ginny took the first step, and then the next, and soon she was heaving her trunk up the stairs and flopping into an empty compartment. The Creevey brothers were the only ones to eventually share her compartment, and after a brief greeting the two of them pretty much kept to themselves. It made for a boring ride, but Ginny supposed there were worse things.
They arrived at Hogwarts that evening without a hitch, and the Creevey brothers decided to ride with her in the carriages up to the school, as well, if she didn’t mind. She didn’t, and a short while later the yawning mouth of the Entrance Hall was swallowing them up as they stepped into its warm glow. Following the stream of students, she turned right and made her way to the Great Hall.
The room was entirely different yet blessedly the same all at once. Familiar decorations still adorned the walls and tables, all of which were exactly where they should be, and minus a handful here and there, a surprising number of students sat catching up, their excited chatter flooding the air. It was only when Ginny examined the Head table that the awful difference struck her.
Dumbledore was absent. Instead, Minerva McGonagall sat in the Headmaster’s chair, though Ginny supposed that now it would be called the Headmistress’s chair. Professor Slughorn still occupied the Potions professor’s seat, but someone new resided in the infamous Defense Against the Dark Arts chair, and Ginny studied the man with more than a little curiosity.
Her first thought was that he didn’t look the part at all. He looked almost comical, in fact, though still attractive in an unconventional sort of way. He was really very gangly, tall and thin and slightly awkward, all of his features exaggerated and framed by longish, sandy-blond hair that Molly Weasley would have condemned as exceedingly unkempt. Ginny thought it quite fetching, actually—the tousled, in-need-of-a-trim look suited him. His eyes were round and open, a friendly warm hazel shade that complimented his sand-colored hair nicely.
“All right, settle down!” McGonagall’s sharp voice cut through the din, and instantly the Hall fell silent. Her stern gaze swept over the assembly, ensuring its full attention before beginning. “As you all know, some changes have been made to the staff this year. To begin with, I am, of course, now Headmistress. However, I will still be teaching Transfiguration and acting as Head of Gryffindor House, at least until a suitable replacement can be found.”
A quiet murmur rippled through the students at that, and Ginny felt her own admiration for the tough old woman grow. Shouldering both responsibilities would be no easy task.
McGonagall gave the noise a second to die down before she went on. “Secondly, I would like to introduce you to your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Mr. Jonathon Pierce.” The man waved, a boyish grin worn easily on his mouth, and was met with polite applause. “Professor Pierce,” McGonagall continued, “will also be Slytherin’s new Head of House.”
