The summer sun shone warmly on the tiny, ramshackle little cottage that nestled snugly down in a hollow between two grassy hills, framed by a copse of friendly-looking trees. Despite the hanging eaves and sagging back door, it was an idyllic scene, and Ginny Weasley had worked very hard to make it be so.
As soon as the breakfast dishes were in the sink and she'd charmed the sponge to wash and the towel to dry, she grabbed a trowel from a low, earthy shelf next to the door and called, "Alex? Want to help me in the garden?"
"Sho!" came a small voice, and she heard the thump-thump-thump of his little feet pounding along the wide, age-worn floorboards, followed by a bang and a cry.
"Oh, no," Ginny muttered, dropping the trowel and crossing the kitchen. There, sitting on the floor in the corridor, was a small boy clutching his knee and crying pitifully.
Ginny scooped him up in her arms and held him close, carrying him into the kitchen as she cooed, "Did you hurt your knees, lovely? Poor boy. Shall I kiss them?"
She settled him on the counter and examined his legs carefully as he sniffled. "Oh, this looks terrible," she said with mock seriousness. "I think it's going to take at least three kisses to mend a bump this big."
Bending down, she kissed each knee. "One, two" she counted, tickling his tummy, then planting one more kiss on his forehead as the toddler burst into peals of laughter. "Three!"
He giggled, tears forgotten. "More!"
"Don't you want to help Mummy in the garden?" Ginny said, setting him down on his feet. "Where are your shoes?"
He folded his arms. "No shoes, Mummy. I's going barefoots."
Ginny sighed and glanced out the open window at the warm sun. "Okay. I guess a little dirt between your toes won't hurt you."
He grinned mischievously and wiggled the aforementioned toes as he scampered to the door ahead of her. She grabbed the trowel and slipped off her apron, hanging it on the hook by the blue-painted door as she followed her baby out into the warm day.
Alex's bright, platinum blond hair glowed like a beacon in the sunshine, and for the first time of the day, Ginny felt an all-too-familiar wave of fear shiver through her ribcage. She glanced warily around, scanning the trees and the tops of the hills for any sign of life, and took a deep, steadying breath before she followed her son to the edge of the garden.
He was kneeling in the dirt next to the low gate of the thriving vegetable garden, poking the dirt with a stick. "Look, Mummy! A ladybird!"
She smiled and left the garden gate open for him. The first carrots of the year were ready, and she'd been dreaming about the nice, sweet taste of fresh carrots since she'd eaten the last of the previous year's crop in February. Crouching down among the lacy, leafy stems, she loosened the dirt around the base of the stem and pulled a lovely, bright orange carrot from the soil.
"Look," she called to her son, holding up the vegetable. "Carrots!"
He grinned and toddled over to her. "I's help Mummy, okay?"
"Alex," Ginny laughed, watching the toddler yank on the stem of a turnip, "darling, you're going to—"
The child fell over with a thump, greens in his grubby hands. He sat up and looked over at her expectantly.
She ruffled his hair. "You won't find anything to eat there, little man," she laughed. She grabbed a carrot and pulled it carefully. "See? You've got to get the root out."
He sighed. "I's hungry."
"What? But you just ate breakfast," she exclaimed.
He shook his head mournfully. "I's hungry"
Sighing, Ginny dusted the dirt from her hands. She scooped the small boy up and settled him on her hip. She crossed the small yard and swung open the green-painted back door into the cool kitchen. She settled Alex in his chair and turned toward the pantry.
"Bread and butter?"
He nodded emphatically. "Yes."
She shook her head and reached for the bread—and froze suddenly, sure she'd just heard a knock came from the front door. Ginny sucked in her breath, trying to ignore the bolt of fear that still echoed under her ribcage. She counted to five, took a deep breath, and calmly sliced a thick piece from the crusty, fresh-baked loaf.
The knock came again, sharply echoing through the tiny cottage, and Ginny set down her knife and closed her eyes before turning to face her son. It was probably nothing to worry about. A stranger, she reasoned, but the fact that she'd hidden the place from Muggles and Wizards alike made her stomach constrict until it felt like a cold stone had settled in her belly.
"Don't move," she ordered, setting the fresh loaf on the rough-hewn table and combing her hair with her fingers. "I'll be back in a moment."
She walked down the short hall into the cozy living room, opened the front door—and promptly shut it.
"Nooooo," she hissed as the knock came again, this time with a slow, sarcastic tempo instead of a sharp rap. "No, no, no."
If she could just keep him outside. She inhaled a deep breath and flung open the door, stepping out into the bright sunlight with her chin held high.
"Hello, Draco," she said with a confident gaze. "What are you doing here?"
The man in front of her regarded her with mild amusement. "Are you not going to invite me in?" he inquired, arching one neat eyebrow. "I finally track you down and you greet me on the doorstep?"
"Any business you have with me certainly doesn't require my hospitality." Ginny shoved a disobedient curl behind her ear and folded her arms ruthlessly.
Draco smirked, and reached a hand out to brush her cheek with his thumb. "Baking today?" he asked. "And gardening, too, it would seem," he observed, erasing another smudge from her forehead with a gentle finger.
Ginny jerked away. "Don't touch me," she ordered, bracing herself against the rough frame of the cottage door. "Tell me why you're here or I'll hex your bits off."
The playful look in Draco's eyes evaporated instantly. "Why not invite me in?" he asked icily. "Have a lover in bed? Doesn't know I exist, does he?"
She clutched the doorknob shakily, finding it difficult to regain her confidence with his eyes trained on her so sharply. He took a step closer and reached his hand out to grasp hers—slipping it over the handle of the door.
"I—"
"Shall I go in and introduce myself?" he asked ruthlessly.
"No!" she cried. "There's no one in there. I haven't had a single 'lover' since—since ever." She lifted her chin. "But this is my home. My home, my life, and my decision to invite you in."
He listened to this impassioned speech coolly. "Trust me. I have no desire to re-enter your life. And if you would be so good as to allow me into your 'home,' I'd be happy to make that a permanent reality," he said, his hand tightening on hers. Carefully bridled fury danced in his eyes, and she inhaled sharply. She'd seen enough fury for a lifetime.
"How long will it take?" she asked quietly.
He paused. "A scant few minutes, I assure you. I would so hate to burden you with my company," he said, his voice heavy with angry sarcasm.
She glared at him for a long moment, then swung the green-painted front door open and stepped aside to let him enter.
"So this is the hovel in which you live? Charming. This place is actually crumbling around your ears," he commented with a sneer. "Must have been quite the adjustment after spending those years in comfort."
"It was a welcome adjustment," she snapped. "This is more of a home than your cold mansion ever was."
He lifted an eyebrow with derision. "Whatever. I've spent years hunting you down, and I have two options for you. Either sign this writ of divorce—"
"Mummy, hurry up! I's so hungry!"
Draco froze. "Mummy?" he exhaled, turning toward her a look of pure ice. His jaw was hard, and for the first time in years, she felt rather than remembered how very terrifying he could be.
"I'll sign the papers," she said hurriedly, reaching for them, but he snatched them away and took the two steps to the kitchen door.
"Hello, man," she heard from the next room. "I's hungry."
She swallowed and ran into the kitchen. "Draco, I—"
But Draco already had her son in his arms. "How could you, Gin?" he whispered, holding the boy protectively.
He looked up coolly, as if challenging her to take the child from him, and Ginny's life flashed before her eyes when she saw Draco holding her son. Their son.
Alex had been all smiles, but his happiness faded as soon as he saw his mum's face. Something was wrong, and he began to fuss. "Mummy?" he asked in a high voice.
"It's okay, sweetheart," Ginny reassured him. "You're fine."
Draco gave her a look and re-settled the boy in his arms. "What's your name?" he asked, his tone light.
Alex stared at him, shrinking back slightly.
"His name is Alex. Alexander," said Ginny hastily, moving forward. "Let me take him and we'll work this out."
Draco sidestepped her. "No, I don't think we will. I've spent years looking for you, and I won't let you—" he paused, and looked at Alex intently. The little boy was fretting outright now, and his lower lip quivered precariously.
"How old is he?"
Ginny swallowed. "Almost three."
Draco shook his head and gave her a look of pure disgust. "Despicable, Ginevra. That you had the audacity to run away, letting me think all sorts of things, is one thing. But this? Keeping a child from me for—for three years?"
She folded her arms, and her mind hunted madly for something—anything—that would make him leave.
"You don't know he's yours. Have you ever thought that's why I left?"
Draco gave her a look filled with derision. "Of course I did. My mind went through every single possibility, I assure you. But unless you were sleeping with my father, this is my child. Look at him—he's every inch a Malfoy."
Ginny bit her lip, and Draco glanced at her sharply. "You didn't sleep with my father, did you?"
"No!"
Her stomach turned at the thought of an intimate relationship with Lucius Malfoy. Especially after . . . everything. In what twisted family would a son assume his father was capable of such a thing? A son with a father like Lucius would. A son with a father like Draco might—Ginny's heart was in her throat, and she realized she wasn't breathing. This wasn't a world fit for a baby. Or for her.
Draco was watching her with loathing, holding the toddler tightly, and she was strangely reminded of Alex's expression when he didn't want to give up a toy.
"Be careful, Draco. You're going to hurt him," she pleaded, hating the tremor in her voice.
Draco sneered at her but gave his attention to Alex, who was crying in earnest now. He whispered something in the little boy's ear, and the crying turned to sniffles.
"What did you tell him?" Ginny demanded, feeling outright rage beginning to swell. "What lies are you feeding my child?"
Draco arched an eyebrow. "I told my child that he was going to be perfectly safe," he said gently, "and that his mum would be perfectly safe, too." His eyes glittered dangerously. "Care to make that into a lie?"
Ginny glared at him. "I hate you."
"The feeling is rather mutual, unfortunately," Draco said coolly, shifting Alex to his other shoulder. "But I'm going to give you the choice to be in your child's life. He will return home with me; you're welcome to join us. If not, I'll have the divorce papers owled to you. With a custody addendum."
He had her cornered neatly, and she cursed herself. It would have been stupid for her to think he'd do otherwise; she never should have opened the door. But she'd left him before. She could do it again.
She sighed heavily.
"I need to pack."
"Take your time, darling." He smirked triumphantly and smoothed his son's platinum blond hair, and Ginny noticed with a cringe that her baby's hair was identical to his father's.
Torn between the desire to keep Alex in her line of sight and the need to be out of Draco's, she struggled, then fled.
The cottage only had three rooms, and she sank down in front of the small bureau in the small bedroom she shared with Alex. Her fingernails dug into the wood of the lowest drawer, and she allowed herself one shuddery sob before she wrenched it open.
Her hands drifted idly over the soft fabrics of her former life and she pulled them aside, uncovering a silver-plated photo frame in which a charming groom swept a smiling, red-headed bride into a kiss. Suddenly full of revulsion, she slammed the drawer and stood.
This was her house, and she'd built this life from the ground up. She was every bit a witch, and the second Draco set Alex down, she'd Stun him. She'd need to take him elsewhere, then Obliviate him—and she'd need something to do with Alex in the meantime. He'd be traumatized.
This was exactly why she'd left in the first place.
She angrily yanked a canvas bag off a hook on the wall and began stuffing it with a random assortment of items—a blanket, a toy of Alex's, and an apron she'd tossed on the floor next to her laundry basket. The bag looked decently full in a matter of minutes, so she pulled her wand out and crossed the hall.
Draco was still holding Alex tightly to his chest. She cursed inwardly as he took in her flushed appearance.
"I assume you'll need to lift the wards to allow me to Apparate," he drawled.
She contemplated risking the Stunning spell, but she knew as well as he did that she would never put Alex in the way of danger, even if it was just the danger of a stupified Draco falling over with the toddler in his arms.
"I'll lift them if you'll let me Apparate with him," she said, feigning confidence.
He sneered disparagingly. "Don't be ridiculous, Ginevra. I trust you less than I trust my father right now, and that's quite an accomplishment on your part."
"Side-along, then," she challenged. "I don't trust you either."
This earned a mean chuckle. "I've never betrayed you, darling. But I'll take you side-along, if you insist. Come here."
She obeyed, choking up on her wand as she stepped to his side, eyeing him warily. She was so, so close—
He rolled his eyes. "Really, darling. It's not like I'm going to—"
"Stupe—" she began, but he moved quicker than she thought possible and grasped her wand firmly, wrenching it from her grasp, then brought it down on the hard oak counter with a thwack that echoed through the small kitchen.
"—bite," he finished smoothly, handing her the two halves of the thin stick of hazel that had once been her wand.
Alex was crying in earnest again, and his cries were the only thing louder than the roaring in Ginny's ears. She felt like she'd been punched in the stomach, and she had to fight to keep her breakfast down and her lungs full of air.
She heard Draco say something, but the words were unintelligible. She felt his arm wrap tightly around her shoulders and felt her stomach heave as her hands found Alex's kicking feet just as the tight, uncomfortable squeeze of Apparition stole her away from the home she that she'd worked so, so hard to create.
And as the floor materialized into pristine marble, she vomited all over it.
A/N: Before you cry foul, I've already sent the next chapter of Red Ember to my beta reader. :)
This is the long-awaited "Roots" fic, which was inspired by the drabble #42 in the 100 Drabbles in 100 Days project that I did—you can find more drabbles in Myriad if you like. When I finished that project, I promised to write it. And now that I am officially breaking my "only one big work-in-progress at a time" rule, I can begin to post it.
This particular plot caught the fancy of a few people whose input I really value, including libraryamy, darcyMitch, Jack Tamara, and Boogum (who was also kind enough to review a draft of this a very long time ago and assure me that it wasn't rubbish).
With Red Ember, I've been attempting to take the "Ginny is held captive at Malfoy Manor" cliché and write it how I've always wanted to write it—with strong characters and without Draco turning into a knight overnight. With this story, I want to take the "Draco didn't know he was a Dad!" cliché and do the same thing. I have no plans to make this into a 'typical' fanfic, and I'd love if you could tell me how you think I'm doing.
I hope you enjoy it.