Wherever You Will Go
Lost and Found
Draco Malfoy watched his wife twirling around the room with her brother, Bill, a dazzling smile plastered on her thin face. Her laughter rang out and he couldn't help the smile that overtook his face. She was so beautiful. So beautiful and so unequivocally his. He heard a sniff from behind him. Forcing himself to look away from Ginny, and turned to the source of the noise. Molly Weasley was watching her baby and only daughter, as Bill spun her around. He raised an eyebrow at his mother in law's tear stained face. She shook her head, turning away from him. She roughly wiped away all evidence of her tears and stood commandingly.
"Who wants cake?" she called loudly, deliberately avoiding Draco's gaze. Cries of 'me!' came from each of the Weasley children, grandchildren and spouses. In never failed to amaze Draco how much food they consumed. It completely explained why this family had been impoverished.
"You're not having cake?" Ginny asked, waving her own piece under his nose. Draco reached up and pulled her onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her.
"No," he replied. "You're mother forced a third helping of Shepard's Pie down my throat. Contrary to your mother's belief I do not eat nearly as much as your brothers do!"
Ginny giggled softly into his neck, her lips lightly brushing against him. Goose bumps arose across his body in response to her touch. She leaned further into him, the arm not wrapped around her waist coming up to hold her plate. He could hear her breathing was still slightly ragged from her impromptu dance with Bill. He frowned. She was getting weaker.
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Draco stood, the shaking of his arm becoming so violent that it threatened his grip on his wand. A flash of green light came from behind him. He blinked as the bright light pierced his retinas. He watched in slow motion as Dumbledore's bright blue eyes became dull, his body falling forward and hitting the stone beneath their feet with a resounding thud. Draco stared, mouth agape, wand still held in front of him.
He was dimly aware that Snape was talking to him, before he was jolted back as Snape took hold of his shoulders and shook him. Draco focused on the potion master's long nose as he spoke.
"Draco," he said softly, pushing Draco's still raised wand to his side. "Draco!" he said again with more urgency. "Though I am loathe to rush you I must have an answer now. Do you still wish to join The Dark Lord's cause and become a Deatheater?" Snape looked at him, his eyes imploring him to refuse; to denounce his father's teachings.
"Of course," Draco spat with less venom and conviction than he thought the question deserved. His godfather's eyes closed momentarily. "I want to become a Deatheater and serve the Dark Lord," Draco said, staring into the eyes of the older man.
"Very well," Snape sighed, pulling a tarnished pocket watch from within his robes. "Portkey," he mumbled, thrusting the discolored watch in Draco's direction.
The familiar tug on his navel rewarded Draco's newly regained motor functions. He stumbled slightly as the trip ended, depositing them in a well-lit, marble entrance hall, which he immediately recognized as Malfoy Manor.
"Wait in your chambers," Snape ordered him dismissively. "I shall collect you when he is ready to see you." Draco nodded slowly, turning to make his way up the grand staircase.
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Draco waited in his room for well over an hour before Snape came to collect him. He thought he saw a look of pity in the usually impassive potion master's eyes. Draco's heart began to race as Snape led him to his father's study.
He felt him before he saw him. Bile rose in his throat and he resisted the urge to turn and run. The large study held only his father and the Dark Lord. Snape stayed behind Draco as he walked to the center of the room, desperately hoping the shaking of his body had subsided enough for it not to be noticeable. He straightened his shoulders as red slit like eyes were turned to him.
"Young master Malfoy," the hideous excuse for a man in front of him hissed. "It would appear that you have failed in your task." Draco hung his head as a wave of shame washed over him. He opened his mouth to make his apologies when a fire swept through his body. Every nerve ending seemed to be screaming in unison with his vocal cords. As quickly as the pain had overtaken his body, it vanished. He wiped the tears from his face before he looked up.
His father was looking at him, disappointed, the trade mark Malfoy sneer distorting his pale face. Contrary to popular belief Draco was not used to corporeal punishment. His father had always preached that it was for the lowly. Seeing his father stand idly by while this…this thing put him in pain, made him realise that having failed, he was truly alone.
"Under normal circumstances, I would not hesitate to end your life in a most painful fashion but Lucius has convinced me to give you one last chance." Draco looked at his father, a shred of hope returning. Maybe he wasn't alone. His father had fought for him hadn't he?
Voldemort flicked his wand towards Draco. He flinched in anticipation of another encounter with the Cruciatus Curse. Instead of the pain he had felt before, a sobbing teenage girl appeared before him, her hands bound magically in front of her. He clothes were ripped, her face bruised. Blood encrusted her forehead, dying her blonde locks a sickly maroon.
He looked from the girl, to his father, to the Dark Lord in confusion.
"She is a muggle," his father spat. "She provided adequate entertainment for the men but we have finished with her. You are to dispose of her." Draco swallowed the nausea that pooled in his stomach, as he comprehended his father's words. He stared at the girl on her knees before him, pleading for her life. She looked so scared, so helpless. Raped, beaten and killed. Nobody deserved that he thought in disgust. He looked back up his father.
"Well?" he prompted waving a hand at the girl. Draco took a deep breath, silently apologizing to the girl. He raised his wand, pleased that it only shook minimally. Taking another deep breath he said the words loudly and clearly.
"Avada Kedavra."
A jet of green light flew from the tip of his wand. He thought he heard Snape sigh, but dismissed it as the girl raised her still bound hands, in an effort to shield herself from the spell.
"Well done Dr-" his father began proudly before noticing that the girl had not fallen. She was blinking furiously, rubbing her eyes. He stared at the girl in shock before collapsing in a scream as intense pain swept over his body.
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Three weeks later his broken body was left on the porch of a rundown house, a thick robe wrapped around him; a letter left in his red stained and oddly angled fingers. It was her who found him. He let out a strangled cry as they moved him. He heard them gasp as the material fell away from his torso revealing his battered chest. He heard mutterings and then nothing. There was only the blissful black and a flash of red.
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She was the first thing he saw when he regained consciousness. She was hovering over him, a scowl creasing her face, muttering about baby-sitting the amazing bouncing ferret.
"I'm awake you know," he said in a scratchy voice, surprised at the lack of pain in his mutilated body. She jumped back, a small squeal escaping her. A scowl was all he got in reply. A scowl and a glare he was sure would make even the Dark Lord quiver. "Where am I?" he asked hesitantly.
"Number 12 Grimmauld Place," she replied curtly, not looking at him. "Here," she said moving a bright pink straw towards his mouth. He eyed it warily, not trusting it to be potion free. She rolled her eyes at him. "It's just water you git. Any potion we gave you now would most probably be the end of you. Though I can't really see why that's a bad thing," she said giving her a dark look.
"I feel fine," he said, tilting his head upwards and inwardly rejoicing as the cool liquid slid down his parched throat.
"That would be because there are more numbing charms on you than is strictly safe," she said snidely, drawing the water away from him. He looked at her, eyebrows raised.
"Malfoy," she began softly, "you've been in a magic induced coma for two weeks. When you were brought to The Burrow you were shaking uncontrollably from the Cruciatus curse, half the bones in your body were broken, you had a collapsed lung, more bruises than I've ever seen, internal bleeding, still open and bleeding whip gashes covering your back and what looked like knife wounds on your stomach and chest. You nearly died…Hell, you did die! Trust me Malfoy if you could feel anything now, you'd be screaming." He looked at her in disbelief, mouth opening and closing as he failed to come up with anything to say.
"It's late Malfoy and I'm tired. I was only checking on you before I went to bed. There's water in the cup beside you. You should rest…more," she added as an after thought as she began to move to the door.
"Weasley," he called as she opened the door. "Why are you helping me?"
"Because everyone else has more important things to do," she answered bitterly, closing the door a little harder than was strictly necessary.
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In the following days, he found that she was right. When they began to remove the numbing charms, pain shot through his body. For the next four months Ginny was always there with him. She left his side to sleep and occasionally to eat with whoever else was in this house. He rarely left the small room and when he did it was to venture down dusty uninteresting corridors. Not that he really minded. Everything hurt, but each day it hurt less and he could move more.
At first they hadn't talked. She'd done what she had to, in order ensure that he wasn't in too much pain and then sat curled up in the plush armchair in the corner, reading a book. Occasionally he saw her with a quill and parchment. Holiday homework, he surmised. He felt a pang of something as he thought that. There was no way they would ever let him back into school.
At first he was fine with that arrangement. Why the hell would he want to talk to the littlest Weasley? As time went by he could tell you exactly why. He had never been more bloody bored in his life!
They'd bickered more than talked when he first tried to engage her in conversation, before they broached neutral topics such as Quidditch. Slowly but surely conversation moved on to things more personal in nature. He found it easy to talk to her. He told her things he had never told a soul before and by the looked of shock that passed over her face as she spoke sometimes, he thought she did too. He loved making her laugh, loved watching her eyes light up. He told her silly jokes that he'd heard in the common room, just to see her roll her eyes and sigh at him.
He'd been there three months and she was taking him on his daily walk through the dank and moldy hallways of 12 Grimmauld Place when it happened. She was leaning against a wall waiting for him to catch up to her, an amused smile on her face.
"Hurry up you slow poke!" she exclaimed, her eyes sparkling. She was gazing out the window and didn't notice as he closed the distance between them. She turned her head back towards him when he ran his hand down her arm.
"Mal-" she began but he cut her off, softly pressing his lips to hers. To his shock she didn't pull away. She returned the kiss as he slowly deepening it. He wrapped his arms around her waist and she snaked her arm around his neck. He pushed himself against her, flattening her back against the dusty wall.
No body noticed Ginny rarely left Draco's room in the following weeks. Not that it was really surprising. Potter, Granger and the Weasel King were off gallivanting round the countryside looking for the Horcruxes and the rest of her family was always busy with Order work. Molly Weasley would occasionally pop in to see how Ginny and Draco were getting on. Draco had jumped away from Ginny so quickly on one occasion that he pulled a muscle. Ginny said he also bit her lip. A claim he feverishly denied on the grounds he was far too skilled a snogger to do such a thing.
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He watched her pick at the rich chocolate cake as conversation raged around them.
"Finished?" he asked in a whisper as she began stabbing the cake her fork. She smiled sheepishly at him, nodding. Draco passed the half eaten and mutilated cake to the closest Weasley male, who on this occasion was Fred. He looked from Ginny to the cake with a frown but a glare from Draco made him hastily grab the plate and begin stuffing it into his mouth.
She was leaning heavily against him, her head resting on his shoulder. At least she would have been resting heavily on him had she been more that skin and bone. His arms were wrapped around her. One hand comfortably resting high on her thigh.
"Tired?" he asked, turning to look at her. She nodded in reply making no move to raise her self from his lap. "Time to go," he said gently pushing her off him whilst maintaining his grip on her to help her up. She nodded again. "We're off," Draco said loudly to the room, interrupting Ron's exaggerated tale of how he had saved the would be winning goal in his last Quidditch match. They had all been there. Everyone saw him almost fall off his broom as he dodged the bludger. He'd noticed only at the last minute, despite the screamed warnings from his teammates. They had all seen the quaffle hit him in the head as he slipped towards the ground. Draco got no small amount of glee from tormenting his brother-in-law with that fact.
"Already?" Ron whined, looking at Ginny. She nodded.
"I'm tired." No body replied to that. She had been getting tired more and more quickly over the last few months.
"Here are your cloaks," Arthur said, helping Ginny fasten her cloak and throwing Draco's cloak at him. It hit him squarely in the face, causing an up roar from the rest of the room. Even Ginny had trouble suppressing a giggle as she looked upon her husband.
He scowled at the Weasley's muttering under his breath about good-for-nothing-weasel-in-laws, as Ginny hugged each one of the said good-for-nothing-weasel-in-laws, in turn. They used a Portkey to get home. Ginny wasn't allowed to Apparate and flooing just made her feel sick. More and more magic was making her sick now.
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