The Greatest Love, The Highest Sacrifice

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My thanks go, as always, to my wonderful beta-reader Zsenya and my Muse Aieshya. This chapter is dedicated to Mrs. Mark Darcy, for her wonderful support throughout the length of this tale – even from such a distance, hearts may speak ‘each to each’. And fear not, Lizzy – your Potions Master makes a lengthy appearance very soon!

Chapter 8 – Weasleys, Words and Wagers

 

Better a witty fool than a foolish wit.

Shakespeare, Twelfth Night (I.v.35)

 

A week later Draco made his way to Hogsmeade on his own. Norri was still avoiding any situation that might remotely lead to a meeting with Sirius, and Ginny had also stayed behind – ostensibly to study, though Draco suspected that the youngest Weasley wasn’t falling over in her eagerness to walk all the way to Hogsmeade alone with a Malfoy. Draco savagely kicked at a stone in his path, and then turned his thoughts in a more positive direction.

Norri is Potter’s aunt! he thought to himself, and once again the concept made him laugh.

It had been a week since his monumental discovery and the lengthy conversation Draco had shared with his friend – and she was his friend, despite her real identity – but he still caught himself starting in surprise at who Norri really was. Getting used to the fact that his best friend was eight years older than he was would take some time. His alliance was also a betrayal of his family — not that this bothered him much — and his agreement to keep her secret meant deceiving her own friends and Charlie, her ex-fiancee.

Draco grimaced as his mind lighted on Charlie Weasley. Over the six months since school had started, Draco had developed a great respect for the Care of Magical Creatures Professor and, for a time, he had hoped the regard was reciprocated. But that had been before Charlie had caught him, apparently alone, in the decimated remains of the Astronomy Tower.

Charlie had –justifiably – believed Draco to be the cause of the destruction, and Draco wouldn’t have disclosed the identity of the true culprit even if Charlie had been willing to listen to any explanation he might have offered. Thankfully, Dumbledore had been alerted to the true nature of the situation, and Draco had escaped with nothing more than the extremely uncomfortable detention of de-gnoming the Hogwarts’ grounds under the brooding instructions of Professor Weasley, who had been none too happy with his lenient punishment.

Draco’s relations with Charlie had been decidedly strained since then. They had had several lessons of Care of Magical Creatures in the past week, and Charlie had pointedly ignored Draco’s attempts to contribute to his classes. When the upcoming Yule Ball had been announced and Charlie was named as the teacher in charge of preparations, he had turned down Draco’s offer to provide the fairy decorations with a sharp comment about Knarl quills that had made Draco flush crimson. It was a situation Draco resented, but there was little he could do about it.

To make matters worse, the incident had come to the attention of the entire school, and to save face, Draco had been forced to take refuge in his habitual disdain for the Weasleys in general, a fact which both Charlie and Ginny considered to be proof that Draco’s character had changed little despite his friendship with Norri and his apparent reforms.

Kicking the ground again in frustration, Draco considered what he was about to do in Hogsmeade. In past years, he had sauntered around, flocked by the entourage of Crabbe and Goyle, and occasionally Pansy Parkinson. But he had left most of his Slytherin dorm-mates behind him after striking up his unorthodox friendship with Norri, and not even the Weasleys’ poor opinion of him was enough to make him revert to old habits.

The Malfoy honour code can work both ways, he thought to himself, even if I’m the only one to use it like this besides Mother. This consideration of his mother made Draco pause a moment, remembering how much Narcissa Malfoy had suffered at the hands of his father, and the rest of the Malfoys in general.

He shrugged those musings away quickly and returned his mind to the problem at hand. Norri had gotten him into this mess, but she was a real friend, and he was not about to let her down. A new thought occurred to him, and he stood still for several moments, turning it over in his mind.

Reaching a sudden conclusion, Draco picked up his pace and strode purposefully into Hogsmeade. Ignoring the Three Broomsticks and Honeydukes, he headed for Weasleys’ Weirds and Wonders. Fred and George might not trust him, but they were Norri’s friends, and Draco had an intuitive sense that he would need them on-side before long.

Hoping to find the sweet and joke shop empty on a Hogwarts outing day was unrealistic, and when Draco entered, he was confronted with a large group of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff fourth years arguing loudly about which purchases to make. Ignoring them, he walked over to where Fred Weasley stood behind the main counter.

Fred regarded him coldly. Draco ignored the obvious vibes of hostility and leaned close

"Weasley, I need to talk with you and your brother," he said in a low voice, too quiet for the assembled sweet-buyers to hear him. "In private."

Fred’s eyebrows lifted. "And why would you want to do that, Malfoy?" he asked in an obviously displeased tone.

Draco drew a deep breath. "We need to discuss Elinor Evans."

Fred started, and then stared intently at Draco, his gaze searching for something. Apparently whatever he saw satisfied him. Walking around the counter to the entrance of the shop, he changed the notice in the door so that it read Closed. Coming back to where Draco stood, he murmured, "Go into the office and wait for us there. We’ll be with you as soon as this bunch has left."

Draco nodded, and then checked to see that none of the fourth years were looking at him before he ducked behind the counter and through the doorway marked Private. Staff Only. He settled himself in one of the armchairs and sat listening as the twins concluded their transactions with the Hogwarts students.

As he heard the group departing, Draco felt an unaccountable surge of nervousness. This had to work, otherwise things would become even more complicated then they already were. Yet despite himself when the twins entered moments later Draco’s first words were typically scathing.

"Couldn’t you two afford decent furniture?" he asked snidely, refusing to admit to himself that his discomfort was internal, rather than because of the old armchair in which he was sitting.

From the expressions on their faces, neither Fred nor George was amused.

"They’re good enough for us," George answered shortly, and promptly sank into one of the two remaining chairs in the room.

Draco’s eyes widened as he saw that both of the twins had their wands drawn. Obviously there was a fair amount of explaining to be done.

"Now, Malfoy." Fred levelled his wand straight into Draco’s face. "Why don’t you tell us both what it was you wanted to discuss?"

Draco’s eyes swept from Fred to George and then back again. Clearing his throat, he said, "I want to talk about Elinor Evans."

"And why would we know about Elinor Evans, whoever she is?" George parried easily, but Draco could tell from the grip he held on his wand that he was wary of any answers Draco might give.

"Because Norri told me that you both know, and she doesn’t lie."

It was a good reason, and there was a pause as the twins obviously tried to work out how honest Draco was being with them. A sudden thought occurred to Fred and he leant forward.

"And how do you know who Elinor Evans is?" he asked, neither affirming nor denying Draco’s reference to Norri.

Now for the moment of truth, Draco thought, and unconsciously he tightened his grip on the armrests of his chair. He swallowed, and then opened his mouth to speak.

"Because I argued with her until she lost her temper and then put Finite Omnies Incantatem on her," he said simply.

* * * * *

Then George started to chuckle, first softly and then with increasing volume until he was roaring with laughter. Draco looked from him to Fred, who was also shaking with ill-suppressed mirth.

"What’s so funny?" Draco asked, honestly confused by the twins’ reaction.

"I can just see Norri’s face when you did that," George explained, gasping for breath. "She probably never even considered the possibility that someone could break her Charm of Illusion by doing that."

"Well, it was a good thing that it was me, and not Justin or Voldemort then, wasn’t it?" Draco snapped, relieved the twins didn’t appear to be angry with him, but also a little annoyed that they didn’t appear to realise the danger that this could cause Norri.

His statement seemed to hit home. Both Weasleys immediately sobered, and their amusement was replaced by evident concern.

"He’s got a point, Fred," George noted, turning to his brother. "Do you think there’s anything we can do about it?"

"It’s only a problem when she’s out of control," Draco intervened. "If she’s paying attention she’d be able to hold on to the Charm, or at least be able to get out of the way of the spell."

Fred looked at Draco, one eyebrow quirked in appraisal. "And you managed to make the Ice Queen lose control?"

Draco shrugged, wondering in passing where he had heard Norri referred to as Ice Queen before. Someone, somewhere…but the thought eluded him, and he turned back to the Weasleys.

"Did you hear what happened to the Astronomy Tower?"

George nodded. "Sure we did. Ginny sent us an owl – though it was more like a Howler. She was furious at how you’d insulted Charlie and didn’t give a damn about the damage you had caused –"

He broke off, his mouth agape. "That was Norri?"

Draco nodded, and looked at Fred, who was also looking slightly stunned. He had missed the calculating gleam that had entered Fred’s eyes when Draco had winced at George’s reference to Ginny, but he did note that for some reason Fred was looking at him a little differently…speculatively?

Draco ran a hand through his hair.

"Yeah, that was Norri."

Fred whistled. "What on earth did you say to her to make her that mad?"

Draco shifted in the armchair. Another opportunity for me to get myself killed, he thought wryly.

"I kind of goaded her about Snape," he confessed.

"Cruel," said Fred.

"But ingenious," added George, and from the wicked expression on each of their faces, Draco guessed he wasn’t the only one who had used Professor Snape as a weapon against Norri before.

"So, once she recovered from the blasting you must have given her, she explained everything?" Fred surmised, and Draco nodded in assent. It was clear that the twins believed him, for they put their wands away and assumed much more relaxed positions.

"If that’s the case," said George easily, "why do you want to talk to us about Norri? It’s obvious you already know everything you need to know."

"I don’t know much about Charlie," Draco countered, more for curiosity’s sake than anything else.

Fred’s eyes clouded.

"Norri made a mistake – everybody makes mistakes. Unfortunately, Charlie doesn’t feel the same way, and he’s been looking for her ever since she became Elsie." He paused, looking at George for confirmation, then continued. "He’s going in to London for Christmas to try and find her again – and to follow a lead on Justin. Ginny’s heartbroken that he’s not going to be home," he added, looking at Draco to see what kind of reaction this last piece of news would produce.

But Draco appeared to have ignored it. He leaned forward in his chair, his gaze switching intently between the twins.

"Interesting as all this may be, I didn’t actually want to talk to you to get information. I want your help."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "And what kind of help would that be, Malfoy?"

Despite the fact that Fred was still referring to him as ‘Malfoy’, the tone was not unfriendly, and Draco was certain that given his explanation both Weasleys would concur that they did have to help him.

"Help against Justin," he said.

George leaned back in his armchair, shooting a quick glance at Fred as he did, an action which did not go unnoticed by Draco.

"Ah yes, the famous Justin," said George slowly. He looked pointedly at Draco. "Your illustrious uncle, I believe?"

Draco sat upright, eyes flashing.

"Don’t ever call him a relative of mine! Don’t think for an instant that I’m proud of that! And get serious for a few minutes – there’s not much time left till I’m due back at school. Justin is not joke material. He’s extremely intelligent, wholly focused and totally devoted to the Dark Arts. He has only one flaw –"

"Don’t tell me, he has a fetish for pink bunny slippers?" George asked, and was promptly clobbered by Fred.

"No, nothing so simple or amusing. He has an obsession – and I’m not exaggerating when I use the term either – for Norri."

Both Weasleys went pale. They both knew Justin’s reputation as a cool, calm, cold-blooded and merciless Dark Arts wizard. That he had been given the Dark Mark at the age of ten, only days before Voldemort’s demise, spoke volumes in itself. And he was obsessed with Norri –

"How do you know?" George asked fiercely, all traces of humour gone from his expression.

Draco shrugged.

"I grew up hearing him talk about her," he replied. "Of course, I wasn’t aware at the time who the Ice Queen was –" he broke off, suddenly realising exactly where he had heard the expression before.

"Charlie came up with it to tease her," Fred explained, guessing why Draco had paused.

Draco nodded and continued. "I didn’t know who he was referring to, but when Norri told me the truth about herself, I fit the pieces together."

"And how obsessed is obsessed?" asked George persistently.

"Well, the best indication would be the argument he had with my father three years ago," Draco mused. "It was after the Quidditch World Cup match had been played, and just before Norri went undercover to keep an eye on Potter. Apparently Voldemort had originally wanted both Norri and Potter killed, which would be why almost nobody knows that Elinor Evans even exists. That is, until Justin discovered Norri’s true identity. I heard him tell my father that if the Dark Lord failed to rescind his order to kill Norri, he would stop being a Death Eater. And when father told Justin he’d have to confront Voldemort about it personally, he did exactly that."

"You’re telling me that Justin told Voldemort, in person, that he had to change his orders about Norri?" said Fred, his voice shocked.

Draco nodded. "He could have died. Voldemort’s killed people for much less than presuming to dictate to him. And nobody leaves the Dark Lord’s service and survives. But Justin was banking on the fact that he was one of the few Death Eaters who had remained totally faithful to Voldemort. And he also formed a powerful argument in his favour."

"I don’t think I want to hear this," Fred muttered, looking thoroughly sick.

Draco ignored him and continued. He felt relieved to be finally sharing this with other people he could trust. The whole situation sickened him as well, and finding people who could help him released a huge burden from his shoulders.

"His argument was that he and Norri would have children, and that those children – of the same blood as Harry Potter – would belong totally to Voldemort. There would be no way of defeating the Dark Lord."

George nodded. "That’s the sort of offer Voldemort couldn’t reject," he said quietly. "He could get lasting control of Justin, make Norri’s life much more miserable than if he simply killed her, and gain a powerful group of wizards born into his service."

He paused, a puzzled expression on his face. "But why would they be undefeatable?" he asked.

A fleeting expression of doubt flickered on Draco’s face, but it was rapidly succeeded by a determined confidence.

"Because natural blood inheritance is stronger than anything gained by magic. Voldemort may have taken Harry’s blood when he returned, but he also has the blood of his father and of Peter Pettigrew. Norri’s children would have the purity of her blood and Justin’s – and the Malfoys are naturally disposed to the Dark Arts." There was a bitter tone to Draco’s voice as he said this, aware of the irony that he was condemning his own family, as he himself had so often been condemned. "And there’s another thing. Norri’s children will also have the blood of her grandfather. And the grandfather of Elinor Evans – the great-grandfather of Harry Potter – is the only man Voldemort has never been able to vanquish."

He paused, looking at Fred and George’s stunned faces.

"Yeah. Norri’s grandfather is Albus Dumbledore."

* * * * *

Half an hour later, Draco had almost reached the grounds of Hogwarts. After the twins had recovered from the shock of discovering the true identity of Norri’s elusive grandfather, the three of them had undertaken a rapid planning session to determine how they would react to any appearance Justin might make in or around Hogwarts. They had deliberated whether or not to alert Norri to their conclusions, but had decided it was one less thing for her to worry about.

As he walked along, Draco was concluding deliberations of his own. Should I have told them that my claim that Dumbledore is Norri’s grandfather was only a theory? he wondered again. But, theory or not, it made sense. And Draco had a sense of intuition, a certainty so strong he could almost touch it, that he was right. And besides, if it helped protect Norri from Justin, it was worth it, even if it did turn out to be wrong in the end.

Justin. The very name sent chills through him. Of its own accord, Draco’s mind harked back to his childhood and the pure terror he had experienced at his uncle’s hands. He remembered his mother’s desperate attempts to calm her sobbing son, and flinched as he felt rather than saw his father’s brutal rebuffs as his mother pleaded that her child be left alone.

His jaw firmed.

Norri would not suffer at the hands of Justin Malfoy as he had. He would die before he would allow that to happen.

 

Looking up from his path, Draco was surprised to see that the Quidditch field, some metres to his left, was occupied. He stared hard for a moment, and then grinned as he discerned the scarlet and gold colours of the Gryffindor team.

"Time for a little classic Slytherin spying," he murmured to himself as he turned towards the Quidditch pitch, willingly letting his more serious problems recede to the back of his mind. "Let’s see what Potter and the Weasel have planned for next week’s match."

In no time, Draco was sitting on the grass behind one of the Quaffle goals. He had chosen his spot carefully, and by dint of long experience, was totally concealed from the players who flew around the field above him, the angles of the Quaffle goals obscuring him from the sight of the air-ridden Gryffindor team.

He was taking careful notes of several new manoeuvres– including one very interesting adaptation of the Wronski Feint that Potter had obviously been working on for some time – when he heard a shout from the other side of the field.

Suddenly, his notebook soared out of his hands and flew through the air.

Totally caught off guard, he looked around for several moments, not sure exactly what had happened. Then he saw Ginny Weasley stalking across the field towards him, carrying his notebook in one hand. Even from a distance he could tell that she was furious. Draco’s eyes narrowed for a moment, then gleamed as he looked up and saw that the Gryffindor team had realised something was going on. He grinned.

This was going to be fun.

"What the hell do you think you’re doing, Malfoy?" Ginny snarled through gritted teeth as she reached him.

"None of your business," Draco shot back, an impassive mask drawn over his face.

Ginny spluttered with rage, and Draco took the opportunity to Summon his book back from her while she was distracted by her anger. She tried to grab it as it flew away from her, but she was unsuccessful, and she fumed as a smiling Draco placed it in his bag.

She looks good when she’s angry, he noted as he tied his bag shut firmly. And she’d be even angrier if she knew what you thought.

Oh well, why not?

"You know, you have a certain charm when you’re throwing a tantrum," he said casually.

"OH!" Shaking with fury, Ginny whipped out her wand again, but Draco was faster.

"Expelliarmus!" he said calmly, and Ginny’s wand flew to him. He held it between his hands, toying with it gently. "Now," he said, "we’re even, don’t you think?"

Before Ginny could reply to this, there was a muffled yell from above them and Ron swooped down on his broomstick, closely followed by Harry. Ginny looked rather relieved to see them both, but Draco was not at all perturbed by their appearance.

"Well, if it isn’t Potter and the Weasel," he drawled lazily, and bowed his head to them in a mocking salute.

Ron’s ears went pink.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" he snarled.

"Chatting up your sister," Draco replied.

He watched with satisfaction as Ron flushed red with anger, Harry’s jaw dropped – and Ginny blushed.

"Pink looks much better on you than it does on your brother, Ginny," Draco said to her blandly, noting with surprise that she seemed more embarrassed than offended by his comment.

Maybe Norri knows better than I think, he thought fleetingly.

Ron was in a state of apoplectic shock. He looked from Draco to Ginny to Harry and back again. Turning to Harry for some guidance as to what course of action to take, he was confronted with someone just as shocked as himself. At a loss for words, he asked the first thing that came to mind.

"And why would you want to chat up Ginny?"

Draco smiled. "Well, to begin with Weasel," he drawled, "she’s a great deal better looking than you."

Noting that Ron was being stirred to a frenzy, Draco decided to take things all the way. After all, he’d behaved for almost six months. And he felt that the Weasel was spoiling for a fight almost as much as he was himself. "And being in the inner circle of the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain and Seeker, I figured she’d be privy to a decent amount of inside information."

Before Ron could fully process this explanation, Draco’s attention was claimed by Ginny.

"You mean to tell me you would only ever chat me up to get information about Quidditch?"

There was incredulity in her voice, and a certain measure of hurt as well. Draco groaned inwardly. Don’t insult potential girlfriend when said girl is present in conversation! he thought, kicking himself mentally. He opened his mouth to amend his statement, but Ginny spoke before he could.

"Don’t. Ever. Brand. Me. A. Cheat." she said slowly, enunciating every word as she menacingly stalked up to Draco until she was only millimetres away from his face. She stood there for several seconds, staring him down, until he grinned invitingly and she realised how close they were to one another.

Reddening slightly, Ginny turned away, then spun back again to confront him once more. "And don’t ever think you could beat Gryffindor in an honest game."

Draco quirked an eyebrow at this alternative line of attack. "Do you want to make a bet on that?" he asked, rising to the challenge. He felt a sudden surge of adrenaline at Ginny’s barb, spurred on by an unidentified need to prove himself in some way to her.

Ginny looked taken aback by his offer, but she was a true Gryffindor, and a Weasley to boot. A gleam of her own entered her eyes, and she nodded curtly. "Yes, I would."

"Terms?" Draco asked.

"The next match between Gryffindor and Slytherin is played with total honesty," Ginny said immediately. "Each of us is responsible for seeing that the team members all play fairly, with no cheating on or off the pitch." Her eyes flew to Draco’s bag as she added the last condition, but Draco didn’t seem to be bothered by her obvious insinuation.

"And the payment?" Draco asked, beginning to enjoy himself.

"To be determined by each of the betters," Ginny said determinedly, then her eyes widened as she realised the potential implications of what she had said.

"And what would you want from me?" Draco asked slowly, enjoying her embarrassment.

Ginny stood still for a moment, obviously thinking quickly. Then her mouth set in a determined line and she looked at him.

"If I win, you have to apologise to my brother for insulting him over the Astronomy Tower. And you have to tell him the real reason why you destroyed it."

Draco shook his head, regretting that he couldn’t agree to her terms. "I’m sorry, but I can’t agree to that," he said quietly.

"Damn it, Draco, he deserves your respect!" Ginny snapped fiercely, and Draco realised that his rudeness to Charlie must have hurt his professor enough for him to confide in his little sister.

"I do respect him," Draco said fervently, and was relieved to see that Ginny was somewhat convinced by the sincerity of his words. "But I can’t agree to the terms. I will apologise to him – I already have, but I’ll do it again – but I can’t explain what happened."

Ginny’s eyes narrowed as she considered for the first time whether Draco was protecting another person by his silence on what had happened.

"All right," she said after a moment. "Then you apologise again to Charlie and you promise not to get into a fight with Ron between now and the day you leave Hogwarts – no matter how much he provokes you. And you get Charlie to stay at Hogwarts this Christmas."

Draco smiled at this. Not fighting with Ron was definitely a heavy price to pay, even though he had been trying throughout the year to achieve just that. But Ginny’s penalty gave Ron the freedom to act as he pleased around Draco, and that would be extremely annoying. Not to mention that keeping Charlie at Hogwarts would be difficult to manage. When he said as much to Ginny she looked unconcerned.

"Your father’s powerful, as you’re saying so often," she said scathingly. "Get him to manage it."

Draco shrugged. He supposed he could work it out some way or another.

"That’s quite a few penalties," he said and Ginny looked at him, realising that he could extract an equally numerous number from her.

"What’s your penalty?" she asked.

Draco looked at her steadily, until she was forced to look away from the intensity of his gaze.

"If I win," he said softly, "you come to the Yule Ball with me."

"No way!"

This last comment came from Ron, and was accompanied by a mad scramble to reach Draco and punish him for his presumption. Harry had to grab hold of Ron’s Quidditch robes to pull him back, and even Ginny needed to remonstrate with her furious older brother.

"Ginny would rather go to Azkaban than to the Yule Ball with you, Mafoy!" Ron snarled.

Draco paid little attention to him. His eyes were fixed firmly on Ginny, who was biting her bottom lip in abstract contemplation. She looked up at him, her eyes bright but hard.

"If the Quidditch match is played fairly, and Slytherin wins…yes, I’ll go to the Ball with you."

Draco let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. Behind them, Ron sputtered in fury, and Harry shook his head in disapproval. But for Draco, there was only one person’s opinion that mattered. And she was trying very hard to keep her face from going red, and looking very determinedly at the grass so as not to meet his eyes.

When you dance with me at the Yule Ball, Ginny, Draco told her silently, you’ll look me in the face. I promise.