Very special thanks to Ellie (Caliadne) for translating this fic into FRENCH!! The URL is http:// www .hpfanfiction. org/ fr/ viewstory. php? sid= 11532 without the spaces.
A/N: So, this is a lovely idea that popped into my head while I was watching "Saving Private Ryan" a couple months ago. It's (very loosely) based off the concept of that movie. Everything else belongs to J.K. Rowling, and maybe an itty bitty pinch belongs to me.
Draco is somewhat OOC, but it can't be helped. Lucius is very OOC (you'll understand in a minute), but he's not really important to the story in the long run, so whatever.
Now, I'm not sure how this is going to turn out because I think it's going to have a bit more action in it than my fics usually do. But hey, it's worth a try.
Anyway- without further filler, here we go:
Saving Ginevra Weasley, Chapter One:
How it Came to be this Way
The Dark Lord's schedule has been very much based off of Harry Potter's, and he was conveniently in my year at Hogwarts. Instead of getting a Ministry job or going for a year abroad like a normal eighteen-year-old wizard, my graduation night was marked by a skull and serpent being branded into my arm. Then I trained, and then I went to battle.
I should start my story when the last Weasley boy died. That's what got me into this mess anyway. Not the being a Deatheater mess, that was my father. I mean the Saving Ginevra Weasley mess.
We were well into the war, and everyone of age was on the front lines. There was no more school, no more Ministry of Magic- just war. Everyone's life was war, regardless of the side they were on. We lived in warded camps, home being too dangerous even for the children and women who didn't fight. We spent long days waiting for the signal to do something, anything, while the higher-ups strategized- and then we attempted things that invariably caused more death but no progress. Both sides had suffered many casualties, but it wasn't a coincidence that only two Weasley children were still alive. No, our side had attacked that family with particular malice. No other family had ever been so traitorous to their pure blood, and they were resented for it. Besides, you could spot them a mile off with that damned hair. They attracted Deatheaters like nifflers to galleons.
So at that point only Ginevra, gender accident of the family, and Potter's daft sidekick were left. I can't say I wasn't a bit impressed how they put their whole heart into the fighting after losing five brothers. Their father was gone too- one of the early casualties, in fact.
I was there when the weasel died. No, I didn't kill him for God's sake. It was Nott who did it, I think. The funny thing is, he wasn't even aiming for the Weasley that time. I saw the jet of magic come from somewhere, and it was going right for Granger. Of course, King Weasel just had to jump in front of it, Gryffindor that he is. Honestly, who'd love Granger that much? I have to hand it to him, I don't think I'd take an Avada for my own mother.
Point is, I was there, and so was the Weaslette. They were always fighting in a group, those three. The Boy-Who-Won't-Kick-the-Bucket was usually off somewhere else, doing his hero thing I presume (he must've been pretty bored, seeing as the Dark Lord was nowhere to be found through most of this).
I saw the curse fly at Granger, saw Weasley jump in front of it like an idiot, saw Weaslette reach toward him as his eyes went blank and he dropped to the ground, and heard her scream. I have never heard such a heart-wrenching, blood-curdling scream…
I was impressed by what she did next. Instead of dropping to the ground, sobbing over the lifeless body of her last brother like I had watched so many others do, she spun around and pointed her wand at the masked Deatheater who had thrown the curse, glaring daggers at him while she whispered "Crucio". To my knowledge, that was the first Unforgivable Curse she had ever uttered (not that it was unforgivable anymore, as the Ministry no longer existed to enforce it). It wasn't the last, though. She killed him a few minutes later, when it became clear that she wouldn't be able to stand in the middle of a battle and torture him without repercussions any longer. I saw the light of anger go out of her eyes as she turned back to her brother's body, leaving them cold and empty but still dry of tears. She jerked away from Granger's outstretched hand (Granger, of course, was crying rivers) and waved her wand over the body, presumably vanishing it to the field where the Light's dead were laid out. Then she touched the emergency portkey at her neck, whispered the triggering words, and disappeared.
I went to my father later, at the makeshift hospital away from the battlefield where he was dying from an incurable slow-killing curse. I wasn't too upset about that, really. He had never been much of a father to me. A beating now and then behind closed doors, a hand on my shoulder, maybe, if we were out in public together- that was the extent to which Lucius's "parenting" went. But he wanted me to bring him news from the battlegrounds, and I had been brought up to listen to his orders.
So I sat in a chair by his bed and told him that the last Weasley son was gone. That's when he told me his bit of news.
Can you even imagine my reaction when my father, Lucius Malfoy, told me he had been in love with a Weasley? Well, she was really a Prewett, but still.
I've seen pictures of Molly as a girl. She was always somewhat chubby, but she did have the kind of good looks that I think God tends to give fat people to compensate for their weight. She had big eyes and red lips, and flawless pale skin even as a teenager. But honestly, I don't know what Lucius saw in her. She's Molly Weasley! The woman who went on to spawn practically a dozen little ginger-haired idiots! He couldn't have fallen in love with her personality, right? I'm pretty sure he doesn't have a heart…
Anyway, after his lovely little story, he charmed me so I couldn't tell anyone. Don't know who he thought I'd tell- I certainly didn't want to disgrace our family name.
My shock at this news was nothing, however, compared to what he said next. He told me to protect Ginevra Weasley. That's right, protect her. Why? He said he wanted her to have one child left. He couldn't imagine the pain of losing six sons, let alone all seven children. So he does have a heart. He feels empathy. Wow. Perhaps that curse is muddling his brain.
He died the next day. My mum was there, but his last words to me were "remember, Draco, what I said yesterday…" His fucking dying wish. Well, I was a Malfoy. I couldn't disobey my father's dying wish. So I began to protect little Weaslette.
A/N: Alright guys, what's the verdict? I know, short chapter, but as my previous readers know I find that shorter chapters suit my style of writing better. Please review!