Disclaimer: The plot is mine, but nothing else is.
Chapter 1 – Down the Rabbit Hole
"I don't know about this," Bill said, crossing his arms and looking at his father.
"And what are we suppose to do? Turn over a fifteen year old boy and his comatose mother to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," Arthur Weasley sighed as he turned his gaze over to the blond boy sitting by his kitchen window. "Because that's exactly what we're going to do if we don't help them."
Bill sat down and ran a hand through his shoulder-length hair. He was perhaps more disturbed by his young fiancée's instant camaraderie with Draco than he was with actually helping a Malfoy. The moment Fleur had set eyes on the blond's sharp aristocratic features, she had attached herself to his arm and when he had responded to her in perfect French, she was in raptures over the "deere boi." She asked him if he was a Veela (no), how many languages he spoke (five, excluding English and he could only read in Farsi and Sanskrit) and to everyone else's utter confusion but theirs, if he knew the proper table setting for a Sunday champagne brunch (apparently, yes he did).
But Bill also looked at the teenage boy sitting beside the window. Though Remus Lupin was walking towards the young Slytherin, holding two mugs of hot chocolate, the stout redhead had never seen anyone look so lonely in his life. He nodded at his father. "Yeah, we need to help him."
Meanwhile, Remus had placed a steaming mug under Draco's nose. Draco looked up. "Thanks," he said awkwardly.
Remus waved a hand. "No need really. Though perhaps an explanation would be nice. A further one, I mean."
Draco nodded. Showing up at the Weasley doorstep with his story would not have required a more in-depth explanation. But showing up with the intent of seeking the aid of a werewolf was another thing altogether. Draco took a sip of his hot chocolate and gave Remus a slight smirk. "Dark chocolate. One marshmallow. You still remember it's my mother's favorite."
Remus averted his gaze and set his mug down on the sill. "Mr. Malfoy, I…"
"It's Draco, Professor," his companion interrupted.
"Well then, it's Remus," the other replied, finally looking into silver-blue eyes so much like Narcissa Malfoy's and at the same time, so much their own.
"She never knew."
Remus felt an old tug of pain vibrate through his chest but he only cleared his throat. "Mr. Mal-, Draco, this is not the time to talk of the past."
"It is if the past still matters," Draco said firmly. He also set his mug down and reached into the inner pocket of his robe, pulling out two letters. "She never saw them. I found them only today in my father's desk. I'm not asking you to help her because of what I can do for you. I don't want that kind of help, though I'm willing to offer it. I want you to help her because you still love her."
Remus reached out for the letters with a trembling hand but drew it back. "No…no, I can't take them back. Not yet. But…I'm not sure what I can do."
"Well, if you love her, I figured you would do anything you could."
"Just like you did," Remus said more to himself than to the boy in front of him. He nodded at Draco before turning towards the other men in the room. He had to convince them to save the Malfoys.
Ginny Weasley was in a sour mood. She had just been in Diagon Alley, buying new school robes and her mother, despite the money flowing in from the twins' business, had insisted on shopping in the bargain rack and purchasing a nice lavender 'fixer-upper.' With frills. And just as they were leaving the shop, an owl had accosted her. It was yet another letter from her boyfriend, Dean Thomas, complaining about how she never wrote to him. 'Well, that's a fine way to make me do it,' she had thought. And now, after spending an entire day with her mother, she had to return to a house full of Phlegm (otherwise known as the snotty Fleur Delacour).
As she stomped into the Burrow, her mother cried after her, "You have to remember to do the password question first!"
Ginny only continued upstairs. She threw her purchases on her bed and rifled through her drawers for some comfortable clothing. She needed a long relaxing bath. But when she got to the bathroom, the door was lock. Her brothers never locked the door. She supposed she should've been grateful but impatient as she was, she dropped her items and began pounding on the door. "Get out! I want to take a bath!"
She heard the shower turn off and in moments, the door opened. She flew at her brother, expecting the usual tussle before she could gain access to the bathroom. Instead, she found herself on top of a very startled, dripping wet and half-naked Draco Malfoy.
Ginny opened her mouth to scream but her jaw merely fell slack as she stared at the boy beneath her. His alabaster skin was far too pale, she told herself, as she admired its smoothness. And his hair is all messy, she thought, as her fingers itched to make it ever more chaotic. She hardly realized her fingers were creeping up his chest until Draco grabbed her wrists and ended her progress.
"What are you doing?" he asked mildly.
"What-uh, what, what?" she replied stupidly.
One side of Draco's lips quirked up in a half-smile and Ginny didn't know if she wanted to smack him or kiss him. She yelped at the unbidden thought and scrambled off him. Draco pushed himself up with his elbows and seemed to unfold upward with ridiculous grace.
"You're too thin," Ginny said accusingly as she averted her eyes. She was actually glancing at him (covertly, she believed) in the mirror. He was wearing a far too small towel around his waist.
"I apologize for not meeting up to your standards," he drawled in his familiar Malfoy tone.
Ginny narrowed her eyes and tried not to blush as she stared at a point just above his shoulder. "What are you doing in my house?" A sudden thought struck Ginny. She advanced menacingly towards the much taller boy, finger pointed at his bare chest. "What did you do to my family? Because I swear if you so much-"
"Right, Weasley. I broke into your home, and attacked all fifteen of your armed brothers and then I decided, hey, why don't I just take a bath since everyone's tied up downstairs? There are only, what, twenty three of you in total? I'm sure no one will return in the meantime and ship me off to Azkaban to join my father and his merry men." Draco crossed his arms and looked down at the top of the Weasley girl's head. "Be reasonable, won't you, Weasley?"
Now Ginny was really blushing. "Well…I uh, Malfoy…" She threw her hands up in frustration. Her day was just getting worse and worse. She couldn't even complete a full sentence and she couldn't help but noticed how attractive a dripping wet ferret could be.
Draco frowned. "Don't call me that."
"Don't call you what?"
"Malfoy. Don't call me that. I'm not my father," he said quietly.
Ginny's head snapped up and she peered at the boy before her. It seemed like an odd thing to say. At least, an odd thing for him to say. Draco Malfoy had always been proud to be his father's son, hadn't he? But it certainly didn't sound like it only moments ago. "I thought you admired your father."
"I'm not a killer," he said so harshly that Ginny stepped back. "Not that I know he is…but..." Draco rubbed his temple. The aftereffects of the Cruciatus curse hadn't left him altogether and standing in the drafty bathroom with only a towel around his waist certainly didn't help. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this."
"Well, I think I can manage to call you Draco if you stop calling me Weasley," Ginny finally said as she grabbed Ron's raggedly robe and handed it to Draco. 'Because you don't want him to make fun of our shabby things,' she said to herself when she didn't immediately let go of the robe she offered to the Slytherin.
When she finally loosened her grasp enough for Draco to take the robe, he threw it around his shoulders and nodded. "Sure, but on one condition."
Ginny's eyes narrowed. Of course, there were always conditions with Malfoys. "What?"
"If you tell me your name."
Dinner at the Burrow was an uneasy affair. Draco had wanted to remain upstairs with his mother but Mrs. Weasley insisted on having him sit with the rest of them at the dining room table. Draco almost commented that a dining room table would generally be in the dining room, not the kitchen, but managed to bite his lip rather forcibly instead. Having brought an army of house elves with him, Draco left them strict instructions to contact him if there was any change in his mother's condition before sighing and trudging downstairs.
Fred had come home to enjoy his mother's cooking while his twin brother was on a date with Angelina Johnson. To his utter delight and amusement, he had come across Draco and Ginny in the bathroom. He laughed about it throughout dinner while Ginny, who sat diagonally across from Draco, merely played with her food. Bill also poked as his food while his fiancée spoke in rapid French with Draco.
During a lull in Fleur and Draco's conversation, Mrs. Weasley began asking the latter trivial questions about himself.
"How many O.W.L.s did you take?"
"All of them."
"Oh, that's very impressive. Bill and P-Percy," Mrs. Weasley had trouble saying Percy's name and had to pause for a moment, "took every O.W.L. too. What is your favorite subject?"
"Well, I suppose Potions. Though I like Transfiguration too."
"And what is your favorite food, dear?"
"I rather enjoy lentils. Lentil soup." He looked down at his mashed potatoes. "But these are good too."
"Are you fond of potatoes then?"
"Uh, not particularly. But I do enjoy it on occasion."
"Oh that's nice. But you haven't touched the ham."
Draco did not know how potatoes and ham could be attached with an opposing contraction such as 'but' in their particular conversation but let it pass and instead, replied somewhat awkwardly, "I don't eat it."
"Excuse me, dear?"
"I'm a vegetarian."
"Oh," was all Mrs. Weasley could manage.
Even Ginny had looked up during that comment, not that she was listening intently the entire time. There were also moments when she would tell herself not to listen.
"Are you really or are you just trying to be polite, Malfoy?" Fred said with a mouthful of ham.
Draco made a face. Fred's manners were deplorable, exactly like Crabbe and Goyle's during meals.
"Don't call him Malfoy," Ginny finally said when Draco remained silent. She also didn't like the look on his face. It was a bit of the old Draco creeping back in. "Wait, when was there ever a new Draco?"
She didn't realized she had made the last comment out loud until she noticed all eyes were turned to her. Ginny again dropped her eyes to the plate and Fred barked, "I suppose seeing Draco in only a towel has made our sister go bonkers."
When Ginny snuck downstairs to the pantry later that night, she was surprised to find a shivering Draco Malfoy wrapped up in a blanket with an open book in his lap. She closed the pantry door and sat across from him.
"I seem to run into you a lot."
Draco managed to arch an eyebrow. "Is twice a lot?"
Ginny scowled. "Are you always this sarcastic?"
"What do you think, Gin?"
Ginny smiled a little. Only her favorite brother, Charlie, called her that. She had been somewhat angry that Draco didn't know her name but she supposed other than the Bat-Boogey Hex, he had little reason to notice her. It still stung, of course, but she had managed to accept it without her Weasley temper taking over.
"You could use a warming charm, you know," she chastised.
Draco shook his head. "I'm not exactly cold."
"Your shaking indicates otherwise."
Draco looked at her for a moment before pushing his hair out of his eyes. He had not slicked it back or combed it meticulously as he generally did and now, despite his efforts, it fell in haphazard strands past his brow. Ginny thought it was a good look for him. "It's from the Cruciatus Curse."
"Oh." After a moment, she asked in a trembling voice. "Who-o?"
Draco snorted. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."
"But why? What have you got to do-"
"I've got everything to do with it, don't I?" The question hung heavy in the air before Draco spoke again. He shook more violently this time. "No, I don't have anything to do with it. And certainly my mother never did. It was because my father was an idiot, following a fanatical half-Blood calling for purity. It's all so foolish and we, his family, have to pay for his failure."
"So you don't believe in it? In purity?"
Draco sighed. "I thought I did. I grew up believing in a lot of things my father once said, you know." He rubbed his eyes. "But I don't know anymore. It's like I went down the rabbit hole."
"What?" Ginny didn't understand the phrase he used.
"I tried to stop Potter," Draco said instead.
Ginny gasped. "You mean, from going to the Ministry?"
"Yeah. Unlike that other fool, I'm rather adept at Occlumency."
"Why would you do that for Harry?" Whatever Draco meant by the rabbit hole, she was sure she was going down it too.
"I didn't. I did it for my mother. I did it for myself. What if Voldemort had succeeded? I would have been branded with the Dark Mark before I was even sixteen. I have seen what Death Eaters do for…amusement. I might be a lot of things but I'm not a rapist or a murderer."
Ginny nodded, believing in the firmness of his voice, the intensity of his silver eyes and the faint shuddering of his damaged body. "So what are you going to do now?"
Draco sighed. "Your father just returned from Order Headquarters. They will protect my mother until I can cure her. In exchange, I will work for them."
Ginny sat up, her entire body rigid. Her voice again trembled as she whispered, "As a spy?"
"No, as a healer."
Draco reached a pale hand out and his finger gently grazed a scar on Ginny's cheek. He could see the fear and confusion in the youngest Weasley's brown eyes. "Where did you get that?" But he already knew the answer. Her mind was open to him.
"At the battle in the Department of Mysteries."
Draco gave her a sad half-smirk. "You Gryffs are so foolishly brave," he said as he traced the scar with the tip of his finger. He felt the tingle of power vibrate in his hand as he healed the mark on her freckled cheek.
Ginny reached up and felt smooth skin instead of the scar she had expected. "How did you do that? And without a wand?"
Draco shifted and closed the book in his lap before responding. "I've always been able to do that."
Ginny stared at him. Her eyes felt oddly out-of-focus but they were in fact focused. Just, it was on Draco and only Draco. Everything else around her seemed distant, blurred, unimportant. "Draco."
"Yes?"
"I just wanted to say your name. Because that's who you are. You're not your father. You're…Draco, just Draco." Ginny looked down, feeling foolish for saying something so simple, and did not see him lean forward. He was already pressing his lips gently to hers before she realized he was kissing her and she at long last pushed her fingers into his silky blond strands, something she had wanted to do since she had accosted him in the bathroom that afternoon.
