The Ballad of Draco and Ginny
Author's Notes: This is a response to a challenge posted on the Draco/Ginny drabble community on LiveJournal some years ago. Each drabble was limited to 100 words, hence the brevity of the first section of this piece. It was written pre-Deathly Hallows, so it is AU after Half-Blood Prince. This will be a series of one-shots of Draco and Ginny's early life together (though maybe not in chronological order).
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, etc.
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;
Being vexed, a sea nourished with loving tears.
What is it else? A madness most discreet,
A choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
~ William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
Draco's Point-of-View
The first time he had met her at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, he had nearly turned away, convinced that the situation was a trap. He scoffed at her defiant attitude, but now … she was the best Legilimens in Order ranks after Snape, and a more than adequate soldier.
Still, he would never let her see his reluctant admiration, and when he spotted her at last, he admonished, "You're late, Ginevra."
She jerked away and frowned at him, "I came as soon as I could, Malfoy."
"The Dark Lord does not like to be kept waiting."
Ginny's Point-of-View
The first time she had met him at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, she'd been sick with nerves, and summoned all her skill as an Occlumens to hide that fact.
He'd been skeptical, but so had she - so had they all. Thus, she launched into a torrent of words, trying to break his calm demeanour and bolster her own sense of security.
After a while, she let go of her distrust and noted his resolution – she didn't care about his motivations. Still, she would never let him see her reluctant admiration.
The First Kiss
Three months into their weekly assignations he kissed her. This time he was late. Instead of the expected scolding, he met sad eyes, which she did not attempt to conceal.
"What happened?" he bit out and did not really want an answer.
"Percy was injured."
He noticed her injuries then – scratches on her face, a bruise on her temple, stiffness when she moved. He reached out and traced his wand along the marks, murmuring a charm. She watched him with curious eyes, and when he finished, he kissed her.
"So what do you have for me?" she asked, breathlessly.
The Naughty Interlude
A few months later they fucked against a tree, panting into one another's mouths, his nails biting into her hips, and her own raking down his shirt-clad back.
"Draco," she moaned, "harder," as he pressed her into the tree, and she crossed her ankles, pushing him deeper into her.
"Come for me, Gin," he urged and kissed her, his tongue not quite matching the rhythm of his hips.
"Oh gods, Draco," she groaned and thrust her head back against the tree. Her muscles clamped around him, wringing the last drops of his orgasm. He collapsed against her and bit her neck, as they slid to ground.
I'll have splinters tomorrow, she thought and grinned.
The Rescue
One Thursday he didn't appear and Ginny walked numbly to the castle. When she returned to Grimmauld, she went straight to Harry.
"Probably couldn't get away." Harry seemed puzzled by her concern and ushered past her.
How could she explain the unease that was more than unease?
Three days later, they found him unconscious in the ruins of a Death Eater stronghold on the other side of the Forbidden Forest.
She was amazingly persistent, Harry thought as he glanced at her kneeling over Malfoy, quietly healing his lesser wounds.
Draco opened his eyes, unsurprised by her presence.
"You were late," she scolded shakily.
"I love you," he said.
The Sequel
The smoke stung her eyes, and burned a path to her lungs, so she crouched a little lower to the ground beneath the rising plumes, and hovered protectively over the still body beside her. She clutched his hand long after he drifted into unconsciousness again, appearing as calm and as deliberate as she had when she organised his search – ruthlessly suppressing her own fears and doubts during the days of his disappearance. She suppressed them still, afraid to give way to any choking sobs that he may hear. Though she felt them. Dear Merlin, she felt them simmering beneath the surface and the warmth of Draco's hand, clutched within her own, acted as a tonic. She couldn't give way. He still needed her.
"I'm going for Aunt Narcissa now," Tonks said gently, rising from her place on the other side of Draco. She'd never really known much about her young cousin beyond stories told by Harry and Remus, but she felt for him. He'd been trapped in an impossible situation and made his own way out with far more courage than she would have ever guessed for one so coddled since birth. He was rather like her own mother, Andromeda, in that respect. Perhaps she should take her mother with her to Malfoy Manor. Though the sisters had been estranged for years, with a son gravely injured and a husband missing, Narcissa Malfoy would need any support available. She was a Black though and stubborn and would never admit it.
Tonks glanced towards Ginny, whose gaze had never left Draco's face, her knuckles white from clutching his hand so hard. "Are you going to be alright?"
Ginny did not respond immediately and Tonks was about to repeat her question when the young girl finally acknowledged her presence. She was pale, nearly as pale as Draco and Tonks doubted whether she had slept for days, so purple were the marks beneath Ginny's eyes. "I'm fine," Ginny answered, forcing her reedy voice to sound stronger than it was.
Tonks looked doubtful and insisted, "I can send Remus or someone else to my aunt and I'll stay with you until Draco's ready for St. Mungo's."
"No!" Ginny's outburst startled Tonks, who moved to the other side of her cousin to examine Ginny more closely.
"Ginny, Draco –"
"Is not going to St. Mungo's," she insisted. "It's too dangerous."
"It's the best wizarding hospital in England."
"And how many breaches in security and unexplained deaths have occurred there since this bloody war began?" An agitated flush splashed across her cheek, making Ginny appear sicklier. Her eyes were too fiery and Tonks reached an instinctive hand to check her temperature. Ginny shoved the hand away, though looked immediately contrite.
"I'm sorry, Tonks." She paused, taking a deep breath, before briefly letting go of Draco's hand and clutching Tonks's arm instead. Her grip was surprisingly strong. "You have to promise me that Draco will not go to St. Mungo's."
"Ginny –"
"No! Promise me, Tonks, or I will physically take him to Grimmauld myself. I'll drag him out of St. Mungo's if I have to."
"I'll try, but Ginny, Narcissa has the final say on where Draco is treated," Tonks reminded her gently.
Ginny hated that her lip trembled. "I know that, I just … he almost died and I cannot bear the thought of him vulnerable there. Our side won't trust him and the Death Eaters or their sympathisers will kill him for what he knows."
Tonks patted Ginny's hand, her smile was firm though not quite as reassuring to Ginny as she, no doubt, expected it to be. "We will make sure he is safe, Ginny."
Ginny could not help her snort of skepticism. "I doubt very much that Draco's safety is paramount to the Order."
Tonks was silent for a moment and decided to try another tactic. "Ginny, think of it this way – the reason for his danger amongst any Death Eaters is the very same reason that he is valuable for the Order."
At this, Ginny's gaze finally left Draco again. "I guess you are right," she conceded. "He is valuable for what he knows." Though Ginny hated the coldness of that statement, she found reassurance in it.
Tonks stood up to leave again. "I'll tell Narcissa your fears about St. Mungo's. She may not want him there any more than you. I'll try to convince her that Grimmauld is the best place for him right now. Merlin knows that Malfoy Manor won't be, especially with Lucius missing."
She nodded, but her attention was entirely focused on Draco once again. Ginny heard Tonks's disappearing "pop" just as she bent to kiss Draco's dirt-streaked cheek.
Truthfully, she felt awkward as she did not know what to do while the others scrambled about securing prisoners and evidence, nor did she know what to say to an unconscious Draco, since she felt with a degree of certainty that he had not heard her own responsive, "I love you." Her part had been played and her spirit now only bolstered by the steady rise and fall of his chest. So, she stayed awkwardly silent by his side, her eyes continually moving from his prone form to the organised chaos around her, and waited for the preparations to take him back with her to Grimmauld (hopefully).
He did not wake for two more days.
Two days.
Ginny rubbed her bleary eyes as Draco began to stir. She moved stiffly from the armchair to his bed, leaning over, resting against the mattress and taking his hand – grateful to whatever deity allowed her to be present when he woke. She worried when she had been forced to other chores and duties for the Order – that he'd wake and find her absent, that she had abandoned him. It was a silly fear, but she worried none the less, even as she enjoyed moments of elation with the thought that he was here and truly okay – relatively.
His eyes fluttered and finally opened, looking around him curiously and with no small amount of relief. Clearly, Death Eater accommodations would not be so comfortable – if they ever took prisoners, that is – though his present situation was far removed from the luxury of the Manor. He blinked again, against the fuzzy images, trying to ascertain his location and recognised a red blob moving into his line of vision.
"Draco, love?" she murmured unsteadily.
Ginny. She'd found him. Funny how he didn't doubt that. Her warm hand in his. He turned his head slowly to the side, wincing at the throbbing and the bright candlelight. Her teary smile met him and he tried to say something, but his throat did not seem to work properly and he swallowed painfully. She was pale, too pale, purplish circles beneath her eyes, making her hair appear blood red.
"I'm sorry, Draco. The Mediwitches told me that – well, it doesn't matter." She poured him a glass of water. "Here, let me help you." She sat the glass down and adjusted his pillows. He breathed her lavender scent deeply when she leaned over him, closing his eyes.
She paused at his shuddered breath, her hand on his shoulder, afraid that her small movement had somehow hurt him. She gingerly helped him into a reclining position and he gasped as he sat up; the hexes he could not remember seemed to bruise his body again with each movement. He watched her quick movements intently and absently wondered about the powder that she dissolved into his drink. "For your throat and head," she said and held the glass to his lips. He rather thought that he could manage a glass of water on his own, but he let her continue.
"More?"
Draco frowned when he still could not speak and waved the glass away. He gently rubbed his neck, feeling a few bumps and rough (probably burned skin) – tell-tale signs of a hex.
"It'll take a few days for your voice to return," she paused, "You're at Grimmauld. The Mediwitches had half a mind to take you to St. Mungo's, but I thought you'd be safer and more comfortable here."
He only looked at her and she could not read his eyes. She was a bit disconcerted by his non-reaction to everything, and especially her; but she chastised herself for her thoughts. Silly, selfish Ginny, but she wished to kiss him, if only to quiet her fears of nearly losing him. "Are you hungry?" she asked, eager to aid him and to cover her own awkwardness. "I'm rubbish in the kitchen, but I could manage toast or a warm croissant – or at least warm broth until Mum gets up."
"No," he mouthed, because it hurt too much to shake his head.
"I should get the Mediwitch, or your mother. She's here, you know. When you were missing, I sent Tonks to her. I knew you'd be worried about Death Eater revenge. She's been with Andromeda, and been to see you too." She was rambling, yes, but all she really wanted to do was to touch him and to have just a moment before anyone else intruded.
"Not yet," he mouthed again.
He glanced around the room again, his vision slightly clearing, and then looked again at the obviously nervous Ginny. He wanted to ask her what had happened, where he had been, but found that he did not have the energy (or yet the desire) to mime such a conversation. Instead, he contented himself by reaching for her other hand, tugging her into bed with him, touching her, playing with her fingers, and gazing at her as she settled onto the pillow beside him. He liked her there, and he liked the look of her – worried and sweet and curious. He liked that she sighed too, when he touched her. Relief maybe? Even though he couldn't remember anything of what had happened –
He remembered returning from their last rendezvous in the forest, smelling of her, still tasting her, her teeth on his neck, his fingers pressing her hips against his own.
He let go of her hand to caress her cheek, and brushed a thumb across her lips. She turned her head slightly and kissed his palm. "Draco, I –" her eyes a little wilder, "I –" Why couldn't she say it – (love) right now – with him awake? Because her head hurt too? And she didn't know; did he mean it? "I need you."
He moved a little closer to her and their lips met, and she didn't know who reached first, and he ignored his pounding head. Sometimes need was just as good as love; sometimes better, but he thought that she meant love with her eyes wild, and a glimmer of a memory in the ruins of a Death Eater stronghold at the edge of the Forbidden Forest.
"You were late," she scolded shakily.
"I love you," he said.
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