AN: Remember…I'm taking liberties. Things you find preposterous now will make sense later. Thanks to Manda for all her tireless beta-ing and chugging out ideas.
An hour later he was pretty much healed and done with his story. He'd told her of the Death Eaters' wish to test the new recruits' pain threshold, of his father's special brand of sickness when he had aimed a Bone-Breaking curse at his wandless son to see how well he could withstand it. He spoke at length of the kicking and punching, and of the seemingly interminable time he'd been forced to endure not only the pain of the Dark Mark but other curses and hexes. Draco had fought back bitter bile in his throat when he related the look on Snape's face during the entire process, knowing that he not only had to condone the behavior, but to suggest more and actively participate.
By the time Ginny got Draco to sleep, she had to leave his chambers or risk being caught. Casting a last look at his pale features, she shivered and swept out, hoping the calming charm she'd put on him would help. Blissfully, she was unaware of the terrors that swept through Draco's sleeping mind and didn't have to see him when he woke up later that morning, curled in a ball with tears streaming down his cheeks.
After Draco's first taste of Death Eater culture Snape began to take pity on him when he saw that Draco was too still mentally and physically underdeveloped to face the challenges that would most certainly be thrown his way. After much whining Draco began strenuous workout sessions at Hogwarts and in the privacy of his chambers in Malfoy Manor.
Despite Draco's mental and physical shortcomings, he still wanted to work on sharpening his business acumen. He'd decided that if he could make these businesses of his father's into real storefronts, he could possibly expand into the Muggle market. Some of the fake businesses appeared to be selling footwear, toys, and books. As much as he hated doing it, he knew those sots loved to spend money. But the decision to sell to Muggles was far easier than screwing up the courage to ask Hermione Granger to help him learn about them.
Huffily, Draco stood in front of the front desk of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office. He was being made to wait! He was hoping to avoid Arthur Weasley, because he never knew what that batty geezer would say or do. At least he knew with much certainty that Hermione would merely be disgusted by him and leave it at that.
"Miss Granger will see you now, Mr. Malfoy," said the receptionist. Draco gave the woman a glacial glare and swept past her to Hermione's inner office. Rushing in, Draco sat down and insolently stretched out in front of her desk before she could even invite him to sit.
"Nice to see some things never change," Hermione said, giving him a beady-eyed once over. "Still as cocksure and bloody overbearing as usual."
"Well, Granger, something has changed, although I'm sure you can tell it has nothing to do with my dashing good looks, social and financial status, or razor-sharp wit," he said, smiling expansively.
"You take up my time and make me feel diseased. It appears that's still the same."
"Still eloquent, Granger. I'll be forthcoming, though it pains me down to my toes to admit it. I need your help. I am requesting that you teach me Muggle Studies."
Hermione was deathly silent, her brown eyes goggling and she was visibly trying to keep her mouth shut, although whether she was trying to keep from laughing or withholding disbelief he was not sure.
"Well?" he demanded imperiously. "Will you help me or not?
Some three hours later, he left her office feeling a bit as if he'd been bent over the table, but elated. He'd been forced to describe his role as envoy and its implications. When Hermione finally discerned that he was telling the truth, she was a bit more helpful. Of course, he'd had to nearly sign his life away to her, promising never to make fun of her, Ron or Harry and that she would get a cut of the action if his businesses became profitable and were no longer involved with dark magic.
In return, she promised only to tell Ron and Harry what his job was (so those two gits would cut him some slack) and keep Ron's mind off what Draco was undoubtedly doing to his little sister. Grudgingly Draco admitted that if Hermione was anything she was shrewd.
He was laden with books that chronicled recent Muggle history, books that showed Muggle artifacts and their functions, plus something Hermione called a "dictionary" that was filled with the words of the Muggle dialect.
Draco began to spend more nights at Hogwarts, which became a necessity for studying. Lucius had encouraged Draco to stay close to the school just in case he picked up on something that Snape overlooked. Lucius was fanatical about his two "spies" telling him each and every possible item of conversation that could relate to the Death Eater cause.
"It's time for your vocabulary lesson, Mr. Malfoy," Ginny purred, sliding up the sheets to sit near his head. She sat cross-legged, a Muggle Studies book on her lap. This was vocabulary lesson number five. Draco was hoping that this lesson would merit him some return on investment, so he studied extra hard. Ginny was an ideal teacher, partly because she already had a background in this, thanks to her father, and partly because she captured his attention a little better than any other teacher could.
Draco had realized that many Muggle words were just the same as the wizarding vocabulary; he was just having trouble with what Hermione called "idiomatic expressions." She told him that it was just something he'd have to hear in normal Muggle conversations, and that many of these sayings were based on history or popular culture. Hermione had promised Draco that next week they would make trips into Muggle London, so that he could visit "department stores" and have lunch in pubs. He was musing over how he'd have to hide his distaste for the non-wizarding masses.
Ginny's voice brought him back to the present as she described how she would reward him if he got all the answers right. Suddenly his desire to learn was renewed.
By the Christmas holidays, the strain of juggling all his roles was beginning to wear on him. He was looking forward to retiring to Malfoy Manor if only to have a break from Muggle Studies, to forget about scheming to bring down his father. Ginny wouldn't be staying at Hogwarts for the holidays, so there was no reason for him to stay there. He did know he'd miss her, though…he knew he'd never have another Christmas as long as he lived without remembering making love to her beside the Hogwarts lake and later in the dark warmth of his room.
When Ginny received her marks for that term, it signified that she'd be on the train the next day home for the winter break. They'd already said goodbye the night before, when he'd caught her just before she went to bed and kissed her senseless. He assured her that everything was going well and there was nothing for her to worry about. She'd huffed off angrily, telling him that if he didn't think dying in this whole shenanigan was anything to worry about that maybe he ought to rethink his position. And so they had parted, angrily, and neither had made any move to make restitution before Ginny had to leave and go home.
She hated that they hadn't made up before she left school, each one too proud to grovel for forgiveness. Even worse, they knew it would be an enforced separation once both were home. Ginny didn't like it one bit, in fact, she rather wanted to be with him on Christmas Eve, though she knew it was impossible. And then there was buying him a present. What to buy a young wizard who had everything? She desperately wanted to buy him something Muggle. So she decided on something she had seen in the Muggle Studies book called a compact disc player. She saw that it was battery-powered, something her father taught her meant it could be used without "eckeltricity."
With her mother's permission, she went to Muggle London and wandered into a store, where she asked the proprietor where she could purchase a compact disc player. The storekeeper looked at her as if she'd gone off her rocker, but directed her to take the Underground to a station near a place called the Virgin MegaStore.
She'd been on the Underground a few times before with her dad as a special treat, so she had a rudimentary knowledge of how it worked. She obtained a map and a pass, and quickly located the station the storekeeper had indicated. Deducing the route, she chose the necessary train and boarded.
The Virgin MegaStore was swarming with people and decorated in and out with bright, nearly gaudy Christmas decorations. She'd never been around this many people. But she'd picked up more than a little in Muggle relations from the books and from her father and Hermione, so she willed herself to stay focused. Her pocketbook was filled with the British pound sterling and the assorted coinage that made up their money. She'd exchanged her Sickles and Knuts at Gringotts in Diagon Alley and was pleased to hear the goblin tell her that she really had quite a bit of Muggle money now.
Entering the huge music mecca, she was amazed to see rows and stacks of these compact discs, with a seemingly endless number of names of people and bands on the luridly colored covers. She had no idea where to start, where to go, so she waited for help to come to her.
""Ello, luv, how can I help you today?" asked a handsome youth with a wild haircut. She studied him for a moment, then collected herself, trying to affect the young man's relaxed manner.
"I am here to buy a compact disc player," she said carefully. He regarded her strangely, but nodded.
"Have you any idea what brand?" he asked, steering her toward a room that was ostensibly filled with music accessories and equipment. An entire wall was covered with the devices she recognized from photos.
"Erm, no, I don't. What can you recommend?" Again the strange looks, but he humored her. He plucked one off the wall and began explaining its features and benefits. She interrupted him hurriedly.
"Let me ask you, sir, would you buy this particular one?" Ginny asked quickly. He smiled widely.
"As a matter o' fact, I've got one of these meself. Plays the music right clear and loud, it does. It lasts for a long time on battery power," he said. Ginny was instantly relieved.
"Excellent, I'll take it. Now, I need some suggestions on picking out some music. I'm not really familiar with much."
They walked back into the huge room filled with the discs.
"What're you familiar with, miss?" he asked. She looked down, unsure of what to say. When she lifted her eyes to speak he had a knowing smile on his face.
"You don't have ter say anything, miss. I've seen your kind before!"
Ginny cringed. "You have?"
"Y'know, all you kids who aren't allowed to listen ter music 'cause your parents think it rots yer brain. I bet all you hear is that classical stuff." Ginny brightened, relieved.
"Yes! I, uh, wasn't allowed to listen to anything but. It was so tiresome. I want to hear some real music."
The salesman beamed. He began taking her to different areas, representing different types of music.
"Wait," she said, stopping him. "I'm buying this for my, uh, boyfriend." The words felt alien on her tongue. "He's a very dark kind of man." The salesman pondered, then dragged Ginny in another direction.
"Well, I'm guessin' he'd be a classic rock kind of man, then. Lots o' this older music is like that, y'know, these bands were experimentin' with sound and words and it's really tops."
He began to choose discs and explain his choice.
"This here's the Rolling Stones. This album's called Forty Licks. All their greatest hits. Be sure your man listens to "Sympathy for the Devil" One o' the greatest songs o' our time." Ginny nodded, not daring to object. "This is a Beatles album, they're about as famous as you can get. And here's an Australian group, AC/DC. Lots o' shouting, but the lyrics are brill."
"An' there's some fine American bands too. Aerosmith, they've got a lotta songs you can do some snogging to," he said, leering. Ginny rolled her eyes and the salesman went on. When she finally went to the counter, she was laden with several more CDs that were a mix of American and British rockers. As she was checking out, the salesman ran and fetched a pair of what he called headphones, which looked to Ginny much like little earmuffs. The cashier got two packs of the batteries that powered it and Ginny emerged quite a few pounds lighter and the signature shopping bag on her arm.
She knew he couldn't listen to it at home or at Hogwarts, for at home he'd be caught and at Hogwarts these types of inventions wouldn't work. She hoped he could indulge on the days when he was at the Ministry and could take his lunch in Muggle London. As she thought these things, a light snow began to fall over the city and Ginny boarded the Underground again to return to Diagon Alley. She made her way back home and excitedly showed the contraption to her father.
Arthur and Ginny sat up for many hours sharing the headphones and marveling at the music. Arthur particularly was enamored with the Pink Floyd disc the salesman had slipped under Ginny's arm, and Ginny found that she rather liked the low, raspy growls of the Rolling Stones and the throaty yowling of Aerosmith. Using a repairing charm, the CDs rewrapped themselves and she took them to her room to prepare to give to Draco when they got back to school.
The time passed rather slowly for Ginny, seeming only to pick up on the day that they decorated the Burrow for Christmas. Garlands of pine boughs gave off a light fragrance and the twins' Twinkling Everlasting Icicles sparkled in multicolor on their Christmas tree, the walls, and almost any flat surface. Ginny snickered when she saw the obvious delight they took in casting the charmed water all around the house. Once it hit a solid surface, it froze and began to flicker. It was really an ingenious invention.
By the time Christmas Eve rolled around, Ginny didn't feel much like spending time with her family. She retreated early to her room and tried to recall the exact feelings she'd had one year ago in a secluded spot by the lake at Hogwarts.
Miles away from Ginny, Draco was in his family's ballroom, dancing with some young lady that his father no doubt thought was suitable for him to court and marry. Although he was unfailingly polite, Draco couldn't help but wish it was Ginny in his arms. This ghost of a girl was just as pale and blonde as he, and it made his skin crawl that his father was so obviously trying for another picture-perfect heir to the Malfoy legacy.
Wonder what he'd do if they had red hair? Draco mused. Just as quickly as the thought popped into his head, he banished it. Ginny was a lovely, passionate creature, but he couldn't be sure that he wanted to spend his life with her. She was a Muggle-lover, poor, and her family was often the laughingstock of wizard society.
As the party began to wane in the late hours of the evening, the guests Disapparated and the house elves began clearing up the debris.
"Draco, my son, please come with me. I am interested to know how you've strengthened yourself, physically."
Draco followed his father like a lagging child down the dank stairwell to the dungeon that lay beneath the cold stone manor. Stored here were ancient relics of Malfoys past, torture instruments of the Muggle variety that had been strengthened with dark magic and small creatures that would gladly feast on human flesh.
Lucius turned on him suddenly, cold gray eyes piercing younger ones. Draco had the uncomfortable feeling that his father was seeing more than he should, and he immediately called upon his Occlumency studies and shrouded his mind with dark thoughts, that, if discerned, would please his father.
When Lucius finally stopped the curses and the hexes, he dragged his son up to his room.
"You really ought to buck up a bit, Draco," his father drawled in his inimitable voice. Hard, glittering gray eyes met older versions. No words were spoken, but Lucius could feel the palpable currents of hate and loathing emanating from his son and he was glad. No pansy boy could withstand the Dark Lord's whims or carry out his wishes.
"While I'm here, I may as well give you your Christmas present," Lucius sighed, as if it were a huge sufferance. Narcissa had always taken care of such things, and he had neither the time nor the patience to deal with something as mundane as Christmas.
"Accio gift," Lucius said, and a black-wrapped, silver-bowed box fell into Draco's lap. He was barely able to muster the strength to open it. Lying on black velvet was a jewel-encrusted dagger, inscribed with the Malfoy family crest and their Latin family motto. Draco removed it and weighed it carefully in his hand. It felt alive and warm. Replacing it, he nodded at his father who returned the gesture.
"I'm going out," Draco said, his voice hoarse. Lucius merely nodded tightly. It wasn't as if there was going to be any sort of celebration in the morning. Not that there ever had been, since his mother had gone.
Struggling to his feet, Draco walked unsteadily to the fire in the grate. Taking a handful of Floo powder, he took one last look at his father's retreating back.
"Diagon Alley!"
Draco tried to be as inconspicuous as possible, but there weren't many witches and wizards out on this night. He ducked into the Leaky Cauldron to get a measure of Ogden's Old Firewhiskey to calm his nerves. He sat at the dark bar for only a few moments after he drained his drink. Purchasing a handful of Floo powder from the barkeep, he stood dizzily in the flames again.
"The Burrow!"