She walked out, Draco by her side. "Thanks for bringing me," she said awkwardly.
"You're welcome."
"You barely said anything the entire time," Ginny said after a few more silent moments of walking.
He shrugged. "Mr. Bufflebuns already knows the details of my case."
"Right." Or maybe it's that you didn't want me to know anything about any of it.
"You can come back on Tuesday, if you like, and speak with him again," said Draco. "I'll be on a business trip."
She took a deep breath, and said what she knew she must say, and what she didn't want to say. "I don't think this is going to work."
"You don't think what's going to work?" He raised an eyebrow. "I told you, don't worry about it. I have him on retainer."
Oh great, another reminder that the Malfoy family probably has more money than God.
"This lawyer let me in for free today—maybe because of you, maybe partly because he used to be my family's friend. He felt sorry for me. But I can't afford to actually pay Mr. Bufflebuns a zillion dollars an hour, or whatever he charges," Ginny said flatly.
"I've retained him to look after my own interests. You'll continue to be my guest."
"I don't want to owe you anything," said Ginny through gritted teeth.
Draco looked at her face closely. "Yes. I can see that you don't like the idea of being in my debt."
But he stopped there. Ginny clenched her fists. He hadn't said that he wanted her there because she had something to offer, that they needed to join forces, that she might bring information to the table that he didn't have. He was offering her charity. Nothing more.
The corridor came out at a small side foyer, and they stood alone. Ginny stopped and turned to face Draco.
"All right, here's the deal," she said. "I'm not taking free favors from you."
He scowled. "What are you talking about? This isn't—"
"Oh yes it is, if you're letting me talk to your lawyer for free because you feel sorry for me, or something." She looked at him narrowly as a new thought struck her. "Or maybe because you expect me to do something for you. I think you know what I mean!"
"I didn't say—"
"Because if you're thinking that, then you can just forget it right now." Just in case he wasn't planning to trade free legal advice for sex, she decided not to spell anything out. But the idea might make sense. After all, she was now the girl next door whenever he happened to stop by his property in Sunol. If he wanted a quickie on his way to or from San Jose, she'd be convenient and available. A lot like a drive-through Starbucks, in fact. She could be his triple latte with nonfat milk and three Splendas. Ooh! Before she could really work herself into an irritated rage, he spoke again.
"Yes, I know what you mean, and believe me, I'm not thinking it." Draco stopped short, but Ginny was sure she could almost hear the rest of what he'd wanted to say. I have dozens of incredibly experienced and sophisticated girlfriends at my disposal, and they all practice exotic sexual techniques, wear Manolos, and carry Kate Spade handbags. Why would I be interested in a girl who drives a 1989 Honda Odyssey and has callused hands?
Ginny struggled not to blush. Maybe the light in the hallway was dim enough so that he couldn't see her face clearly. "Okay. But maybe I can offer you something that you really need right now." She rushed on, just in case there was any chance that he'd misinterpret her words anyway. She didn't need to hear an even clearer refusal from him.
"This Thomas Riddle is trying to take both our properties. I can't stop him alone. But you haven't been able to do it yet either, even with Mr. Bufflebuns. Maybe… maybe we can do it together. If I'm going to do that, though, you've got to tell me everything that he's been doing to you."
A strange expression crossed Draco's face. He raised an eyebrow and put on a sarcastic look, as if to cover whatever emotion had almost come through. She flushed. She could just hear what he was going to say next. Why would he treat her like an equal partner in this thing, he'd brought her to see his lawyer only because he felt sorry for her, sure, he'd do it again for God only knew what reason.
But that was all there was to it. He'd chosen her to be the object of his charity for some unknown reason; he'd made it unflatteringly clear that sex was not the draw. He didn't need her or anyone else. He had money and status and she was a nobody. Of course he wouldn't treat her as an equal. What good could she possibly do him? The smartest thing, Ginny knew, would be to keep her mouth shut and scoop up whatever scraps of charity Draco Malfoy was throwing her for whatever reason.
She also knew that she wouldn't do it. Her pride would only permit her to have all or nothing.
"I mean, yes, you'd be doing me a favor, even so," she said quickly. "But I could help you, even while you're helping me. And I think you do need me. If you could solve this problem all by yourself, you already would've by now. Daddy's money would have gotten you out of it right away, or something."
"My father's dead," he said quietly. "My mother too."
Waves of burning shame crashed across Ginny's face. She could never say another word. She moved away blindly, felt for the door for the parking lot, desperate to get out of there, sure she was the biggest fool on the planet."
She felt his hand on her wrist. "Stop," he said. "You didn't know."
She stiffened, and he let his fingers fall. Draco sighed and gave her a long look.
"Look, Ginny, I agree with you."
"You do?" She tried not to let her voice rise to the squeaky register it always reached when she was flustered. Just the touch of his hand on her wrist had been enough to do it. "Okay. I'm listening," she added, when he didn't immediately go on.
"I'm not really getting anywhere by myself, and Mr. Bufflebuns is the best there is. I don't want this to go to the courts. It could drag on forever. I want to have that house now without any restrictions on it—and no, it's not because I want to develop it."
"So… you want to restore it? That's really what you do, in your business, I mean?" she asked. Her mind worked rapidly. Maybe he was thinking of turning the mansion and grounds into a historic site. If his family was, had been, as rich as she suspected, then he could afford to do it with some government grants thrown in. That wasn't exactly ideal, but it was a whole lot better than tearing all the buildings down and replacing them with condos or office space.
"Yes. And Thomas Riddle is trying to put a stop to it. He's also trying to take your property."
"You know a lot more about the details of what's going on with me than I do when it comes to your story," said Ginny. She looked at him levelly. "I have to know more."
Draco nodded. "I'm sorry that I haven't told you anything yet."
She raised her eyebrows.
"What?" he asked.
"Nothing. It's just—don't take this the wrong way, okay? But I get the feeling that you don't apologize for much."
He smiled faintly, an expression that shifted the planes of his face so that they were handsome rather than sharp and pointy. "You're probably right about that. So it's agreed?"
"What's agreed?" asked Ginny, still hypnotized by that smile of his.
"We have a common goal, and we'll work together."
"Agreed."
They shook hands, and the contact was brief enough that Ginny could pretend it hadn't affected her at all.
Draco's cell phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket and peered at it. "I have an appointment right now," said Draco. "I'm going to be late, actually. Ginny, we'll talk tomorrow. I'll call you. All right?"
"Okay," she said, punching her number into his phone. "Um… bye."
She went out to the parking lot and sat in her van for several minutes, remembering the way the light had shone off his bright hair as he walked away. Then she shook herself and started the engine. If she left now, she might still avoid the early holiday weekend rush hour.
Ginny plodded up the drive to her house three hours later, the afternoon sun slanting across the front porch. She'd gone to the county records office in Oakland, which she was regretting now. The traffic was okay on 580 on the way in, but then she'd been stuck in a never-ending line of people trying to get copies of their records during the last two hours before the fourth of July weekend began. Traffic on the way back was at a near-standstill almost the entire way.
She slowly walked up the familiar front steps, savoring the silence, the restfulness, and the soothing sun and heat. At that moment, she didn't care if she ever got in a car again.
The house was quiet and felt welcoming, as if it had been waiting for her. This is my home, she thought, dropping her keys and purse on the breakfast table. Nobody can ever take this from me. I don't care what anyone tries to do. It is mine forever.
Colin had left a note explaining that he'd found a Starbucks a few miles outside of Sunol and had been hired on the spot because someone had just quit. They'd needed someone to cover the three to eleven shift, so he had stayed.
"Glad things are working out for somebody, anyway," muttered Ginny, folding the note.
She made a tuna sandwich and then sat and ate it, thinking. There was so much she didn't know, all the way from where her great-uncle was, to why he'd sent her the deed now, to why Thomas Riddle was filing claims on both Kilkare Road properties, to who had set up electricity and water, to pretty much everything else. If what Mr. Bufflebuns had said was true and no representatives of Thomas Riddle had been there for several months, that last point made even less sense. it didn't feel like there had been intruders here, and certainly not as if they have left any mark. This house was hers. She felt it.
She spread out the copy of the original deed from the records office and compared it to the copy she had received. They looked exactly the same. She wasn't surprised; she'd had a strangely sure feeling all along that Mr. Bufflebuns was right. The original deed showed the same thing as the copy her great-uncle had sent her—that she was the only person who had a right to this property. Whatever claim this Thomas Riddle thought he had on both her house and the Kilkare Mansion, it wouldn't rest on anything as simple as an incorrect duplicate deed.
Well, there was nothing more to be done about it that night. Ginny unpacked all the boxes, hung clothes in the closets, stacked books on the bookshelves, and did, in fact, put her Hitachi wand in a box under the bed. Then she watched an old rerun of Little House on the Prairie on the small TV, resolving to order cable as soon as she could afford it. Which might be never, she thought glumly. Colin's salary at Starbucks wasn't going to support the household, and she somehow didn't think she'd be making much more money with any job she got. And if we can't stay in the house because of all this crap going on…
She set her jaw. No. No, I won't think that way. This house is mine, this land is mine, and I will never give them up. And maybe… maybe Draco Malfoy really can help me to keep them, and I can help him.
As the evening sun began to set, she found herself yawning. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet, but she was exhausted. Between the driving, the excitement followed by immediate bad news, the stress, and everything else, she could barely keep her eyes open. She washed her face and brushed her teeth in the same tiny bathroom she remembered, loving every memory of each tile in the shower and pattern on the floor, and then she went to bed.
She was sitting in a huge canopy bed, the dark mahogany ceiling overhead, deep blood-red curtains pulled tightly around the enclosed space. And she was not alone. A boy sat next to her, cross-legged, facing her. She felt her heart thumping in her own chest, and then in his, as they leaned closer and closer to each other. He raised his hand to her face, stroked her cheek, and pulled her to him.
And then, before she could process anything, before she could even try to figure out where she was or what was happening to her, they kissed.
At the touch of his lips, a wave of warm weakness rushed over her. She would have fallen onto the bed if he hadn't held her up. But his other arm went round her waist, and then he was holding her up and deepening the kiss. Ginny suddenly knew a bit more about the history of the girl whose skin she inhabited, just a few things, as if transmitted through the boy's skin. She was herself in some way… and yet, she was not.
The dream-Ginny was only sixteen years old. She had kissed other boys before, and she'd gone just a bit further with a couple of them. But she'd never felt anything like the feelings this boy stirred in her.
It was an experience, a reliving, and a memory all at once. The dream-Ginny's upbringing was very strict, she somehow vaguely knew. Very 1950's-ish. She'd been taught to hold herself aloof from boys until she had a wedding ring on her finger. So at sixteen, she was inexperienced in this reality- as she'd been in her own, actually. But this Ginny was overwhelmed by a raw craving every time this Draco touched her, which the real sixteen-year-old Ginny hadn't felt for anyone. The younger girl was a virgin; she desperately wanted him to change that. But she'd held herself back with all the strength she had.
And this other-Ginny was getting very tired of it. The floodgates were going to fall. She had the feeling that other-Ginny had come there for more than just a few hours, and that somewhere near the end of that time, she'd give up, give in to Draco's desires and her own. And that the act would open doors that could never be closed again.
Ginny felt it all in that kiss, the kiss she certainly hadn't shared with the real Draco, the one she barely knew and had only met that day.
As the kiss deepened, so did Ginny's own awareness. The two of them were alone in his rooms, which she somehow knew were isolated in their own wing. Nobody could possibly overhear them. Nobody could find them. His family couldn't throw her out; her family couldn't rescue her, as they would see it. She was utterly alone with Draco Malfoy, and she could give in to him, to her own desires, and fall as far as she liked.
She woke up gasping. As she tossed and turned, she knew one inescapable truth.
If the real Draco Malfoy came over the next day and asked her for the same thing the dream-Draco wanted from that other-Ginny, she'd give it to him without a second thought. And she wasn't a woman who did that kind of thing. She'd never, ever gotten into bed with a man she barely knew. She'd rarely gone to bed with a man she did know. But for Draco, she just might change it all—if he wanted the same thing.
She thought briefly of pulling out the Hitachi from under the bed, but Colin was probably back by then and asleep in the other room. Sometimes, the nuclear apocalypse wouldn't wake him up, but he could also be a surprisingly light sleeper. The house was silent, and the Hitachi made a lot of noise. It probably wouldn't help anyway. She felt a bone-deep yearning that had very little to do with satisfying a purely physical need.
It took Ginny a long time to get back to sleep.
She rummaged in one kitchen drawer after another the next morning, searching for coffee. She found a can of dried-up Folgers that didn't even move when she shook it. Grimacing, she decided to wait until Colin got up. He'd probably brought some Starbucks coffee back with him, and she'd unpacked the coffee grinder last night.
She walked slowly round the small kitchen, savoring each detail. The shabby cupboards with their chipped white paint. The battered enamel stove. The countertops, covered in formica boomerangs. The old-fashioned avocado green fridge. It was all exactly the way she remembered it from that summer she was seven years old. She walked to the small window at one end and looked out at the narrow side yard filled with fennel plants and tall grasses. Nobody had been taking very good care of the lawn, that was for sure. The south wing of the Kilkare mansion was only a few hundred yards away, looming up past the cedar fence. Every window was closed and barred from view by dark emerald green drapes, but she kept watching for movement.
Not that there was much point; why would Draco Malfoy even be there? She believed now that he did plan to restore the house some way, for some purpose; she'd been determined to somehow stop him if he actually was planning to raze it to the ground for development. Throw herself in front of a bulldozer, or something. But that meant that he'd have no reason to actually stay anywhere on the property. He undoubtedly owned some fancy condo in San Jose.
But then, why had she seen him driving down from the mansion the morning before?
Ginny turned and walked slowly into the front room. The two envelopes containing the copies of the deed were stacked on the table, and she looked at them, thinking.
Mr. Bufflebuns had said that a third version of the original deed to the Kilkare mansion just might be somewhere in huge house itself. There were so many strange parallels between her and Draco Malfoy's situations. What if there were a copy of her deed, too, somewhere in her own house?
Even if it was possible, that idea didn't provide much guidance as to exactly where that hypothetical deed might be. But she and Ron had always had a few hiding places around the house, niches where they stashed little childhood treasures. Ginny thought that she could remember where they'd been, too. There was one under a floorboard…
After quite a bit of searching, Ginny found the loose floorboard near the side door that led out to a grass field. It came up easily, but it was empty, which she supposed should not have been a surprise. But there was something a little strange. Ginny frowned. There was a draft coming up through the underfloor beneath the loose board, which didn't make much sense. The house was on a slab foundation with no basement, and the garage was a separate building. There shouldn't be any open space that could hold moving air.
"What are you doing?" yawned Colin, padding in from the second bedroom.
Ginny jerked her head up, startled, and hit it on the bottom of a desk. "Ow! Nothing. Just… looking at an old hiding place I used to have, with Ron." She rubbed her head, standing up.
Colin was pawing through the envelopes on the table, and she realized too late that she should have put them away. "What are these?"
"Just copies of the deed," she said evasively. "How's that new job?"
"It's great," enthused Colin. "I can't believe I found it right away. It's a drivethrough on an exit just a few miles out on 680, and they're twenty-four hour, so I can pick up all kinds of extra shifts. I'm going to work a lot over the next couple days. I might practically never be here through the fourth."
"Good," she said, sidling past him. "I mean, it's not like I don't want you to be here, Col, but you can pick up some extra money."
"I know! You know, Gin, because we won't have to pay any rent or anything, maybe you can even take a little more time to get a job now. Maybe try to set up your gardening business again. I know the climate's different, but you still know almost all the plants. Oh, I'm so glad that we don't have to pay rent or a mortgage. It's like a dream come true!"
The louder and happier Colin got, the guiltier Ginny felt—and the more determined to keep the unpleasant twist in the situation hidden from her best friend as long as possible.
"Did you bring back any coffee?" she asked as she walked swiftly past him to the kitchen. It wasn't exactly a necessary question, seeing as how she could smell the freshly ground beans brewing.
"It's just the way you like it," called Colin from the front room. "It has the density of a black hole."
Ginny poured the pitch black coffee into a mug and then brought it into the bathroom, showering and dressing in old clothes hurriedly. Colin was talking on the phone when she walked out in tattered jeans and a torn t-shirt. She waggled her fingers at him; he nodded at her, and she kept moving. As she made it out the front door, she wondered how much longer she could keep the truth from Colin. He was bound to figure it all out at some point.
The sun was bright and clear, edging towards mid-morning; she could tell that it would be a hot day later on. She walked slowly towards the side yard, thinking that she might spend the entire day sketching out the eight acres and making preliminary notes on how the imaginary nursery could be laid out. Maybe she could start putting ads for gardening services on Craigslist. She'd had very good luck with that in Portland. It was a technique that might not work if they were stuck in the middle of nowhere, but in a techy area, enough people read Craigslist to pick up clients. She'd brought all the hand tools, and she could afford to pick up a few new pieces of power equipment, if she actually had at least a small customer base.
The wind blew in Ginny's hair and the sun caressed her cheek as if bestowing their blessings on her plans.
"It's going to work out," she whispered. "This house is mine, this land is mine, and nobody can take them from me."
Her cell phone buzzed in the pocket of her jeans.
Draco! He said he'd call. She snatched the phone out.
"Hello?" Ugh. My voice sounds all breathy.
"Ah. Miss Weasley," said an all-too familiar voice.
"Thomas Riddle," she said, faintly.
"How pleasant that you recognize me so quickly," said Riddle. "That bodes well for our future… ah… business relationship, don't you think?"
"We aren't going to have any kind of relationship, business or—or otherwise." Ginny was breathing so hard that she could barely speak. "You shouldn't call me."
"I don't see why not," the smooth, rich, dark voice went on. "These tiny real estate troubles ought to be settled between the interested parties. It's so much easier, don't you agree?"
"No, I don't agree!" That statement gave her something to grab onto, at least. "And my lawyer said that you shouldn't call me, and I shouldn't talk to you if you do!"
"Ah, Mr. Bufflebuns. Such a delightful man."
"How did you know?" Ginny clutched the phone harder, then cursed herself. She was giving too much away with every word she spoke. "I'm hanging up this phone right now."
"Oh, I shouldn't think so, or I doubt you would have announced your intention," the voice went on, sounding horribly pleasant. "No, if you'd rather not discuss our silly little disagreements over property—"
"Silly! There's nothing silly about this. You're trying to take something that's mine, and it's not going to work, that's all." I'm hanging up this phone, I'm hanging up this phone, Ginny chanted to herself. She did not.
"Then there are several other… ah… interesting pieces of information I could share with you, if you'd rather." Thomas Riddle went on as if he hadn't heard.
"I don't want to know anything you could have to say," Ginny said fiercely.
"Can you be so very sure?"
"Yes! Yes, I can. And you'd better leave me alone, Thomas Riddle, or I'll—"
A hand snatched the phone from her. A furious face intruded into her field of vision.
"Give me that!" Draco said. Unnecessarily so, because he already had her phone.
"Give that back," gasped Ginny, but it was too late.
"Now you listen to me, Riddle," Draco was snarling into the phone, holding it away from her as she made a few unsuccessful grabs. "You'd better stop harassing Ginny Weasley right now. And you'd better stop trying that trick with me, too. If you think I'm joking, you are sadly mistaken—"
"Draco, dear boy, you really oughtn't to allow yourself to become so upset over a simple conversation," the voice of Thomas Riddle chided. Ginny realized that Draco must have accidentally hit the speaker button. She could hear every word. In fact, the speaker on her phone had never sounded so loud before.
Draco's eyes widened. The expression on his face shifted to something that Ginny never would have imagined she'd see there. Anger, yes, but fear too, and a certain type of fear, something irrational, something unadult… the young man looked bizarrely like a small child. Yes, that was it.
"Don't call me that," he said in a faint voice.
"Yes, of course, just as you wish,' the oily, dark voice went on.
"Leave me alone. Don't call me again, and don't call her again."
"You certainly are protective of Miss Weasley, aren't you?" Thomas Riddle asked, sounding amused. "You've made friends with her rather quickly, considering that the two you met… ahem… only this morning."
How the hell did he know that? Ginny wondered. She wasn't going to ask.
"Don't you dare to say a single word about Ginny Weasley!"
"Ah, Draco, so volatile. So belligerent. Your father would be most disappointed in you."
Draco's eyes widened. A chill struck Ginny, watching the fear spread across his face.
"Don't you say a single word about my father either, Riddle."
"Such a tragedy. I've always wanted to express my sympathy, you know."
Draco was breathing very hard now. "You know nothing. You understand nothing. You… you…"
"Just as you say," agreed Thomas Riddle, and then the line went dead.
Ginny stared at Draco, unable to look away from the naked emotion on his face.
"AHA!" screeched Colin from behind her. He marched up to them and planted his hands on his hips, glaring from one face to the next. "I knew it! I knew there was something wrong."
"There's nothing… I don't know why you think…" Ginny couldn't even put a complete sentence together.
"Don't give me that crap. I heard the entire thing. Someone named Thomas Riddle is trying to take the house. And him!" Colin whirled round on Draco, stabbing a finger in his face. "You're connected. I just know it. That's the guy who was in the car that morning. The one you pointed out, Gin. Isn't it? I recognize that hair. And that car! He's here to try to take the house to develop it, isn't he? He's going to build condos! A plague of yuppies will descend on us!"
Ginny could barely hold back awful laughter. Colin was echoing pretty much everything she'd said about Draco only the day before.
"And, and," Colin said wildly, obviously winding up to a dramatic finish, "you didn't tell me anything about any of this!"
"Why do you think I didn't tell you?" Ginny threw her hands up in the air. "I knew you'd throw a psycho kitty diva fit. And sure enough, you are."
"I've got a good reason. And if you think you're going to take Ginny's house…" Colin shot Draco a death glare. "I'll chase you out of here with a chainsaw."
"He's not trying to take the house," sighed Ginny. Whatever Draco else was or wasn't doing, she was long past thinking he had any designs on her property. "Yes. There are some… issues with this Thomas Riddle person. I don't know exactly what's going on yet, so I didn't even know how much to tell, and Col, I didn't want you to worry. But it's okay. He's okay." She jerked a thumb at Draco. "This is Draco Malfoy, and he's in the same mess we are; Thomas Riddle is trying to take his house too. But we're going to work it out. We have a lawyer. Oh… I'll explain everything later, okay?"
Colin squinted at her and Draco, as if seeing the situation in a different light. "Oh. Okay."
"Is this your... ah… partner?" asked Draco, speaking the first words since Colin had stormed up to them.
"Yes. No. I mean, we're friends," said Ginny quickly.
"Best friends," Colin assured Draco. "Ginny's the most important person in my life since I had to leave my boyfriend in Portland. Yes, I had a really serious boyfriend back home."
Ginny had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Colin did have a habit of laying it on a little thick at time.
"I mean, not that we were going to get married or anything," Colin went on. "We could have a domestic partnership, but we couldn't get married anyway. I think Oregon will be one of the first states to legalize gay marriage. Don't you?"
"I think he gets the picture, Col," she muttered through clenched teeth.
"Okay. Well, then… bye! I picked up another shift today. I'll be back around seven. And you'd better explain everything then, Gin."
"I will. I promise."
Colin gave Ginny a wink and went back towards the house.
As soon as Ginny heard the door shut, she turned on Draco. "What did you think you were doing?" she asked through clenched teeth.
"I… I don't know what you're talking about." He still looked shaken and pale, and she suppressed a surge of emotion.
"Oh, I think you do. The way you grabbed the phone right out of my hand! You didn't have any right to do that."
He scowled. "I was trying to help you, Ginny. Did you really want to talk to Thomas Riddle? You've got to know what a terrible idea that conversation would be."
"I don't need your help," she retorted.
"Fine, then I won't give it!"
"You probably weren't going to anyway," said Ginny. "You don't strike me as being very reliable."
His silvery eyes narrowed. "I could say the same about you. I could never trust you."
"Well, I couldn't trust you!" Ginny yelled.
They stared at each other. She realized what she'd said, and she could tell that he did too. They were talking as if they'd known each other for a long time, as if promises and betrayals pulsed between them. But they'd only met this morning.
Hadn't they?
The knowledge hung between them, poised right on the edge of her mind, and on his as well, she could tell. If either of them said a word, then the deeper truth would come out. Ginny could not say that word. Yet she couldn't leave it unsaid. She could only stare at Draco Malfoy, knowing, in some place she could not admit, exactly who he was. Had been.
But if she didn't speak, she would be a coward. And Ginny would die before taking the coward's way out.
"You…" she whispered. She licked her dry lips. "You were the little boy who lived next door in Sunol when I was seven years old, that summer of 1988. Weren't you?"
Draco looked at her long and steadily, as if memorizing each current feature of her face and fitting it to a pattern from the past. "And you were the little girl with the long red hair."
They each gave a long, shuddering sigh.
Somehow, they were both leaning against the cedar fence, and they stood very, very close, but it was all right. They leaned their heads together, as if sharing secrets.
"When did you figure out who I really was?" asked Draco.
"I think I knew the first time I saw you," Ginny admitted. "But there was no way I was going to admit it to myself. What about you?"
He cocked his head, clearly thinking. "The minute you threw the door of my office open and it banged off the opposite wall. I wasn't in a good mood, you know. I was ready to tell you to… uh… where to get off and then call security. But then… then, I saw your face, and I knew. At the same time, I didn't know until just now."
"Same here," said Ginny.
An awkward silence fell between them. A thousand questions chased themselves through her mind. What had happened that summer? Why had he been there then but not before? Why had he gone away? Had his family been there? Had they all left? Why didn't she remember ever seeing him with the other children? Why had he always seemed to be keeping a secret? And why, why had he broken his promise to her, the vow that they'd somehow be together? That last question was the most pressing, the most poignant, and the most impossible to ask. She'd sound completely ridiculous.
"There's so much we could ask each other," said Draco, as if he'd read her mind.
"Yes." She looked away from him. "So… um… maybe we should…"
"Let it go until later," said Draco quickly. "We've got to deal with the biggest issue right now, which is the property situation."
"Right," agreed Ginny, somehow both hurt and relieved. Draco was right, of course, They shouldn't even begin to untangle the messy thread of their childhood memories. Riddle's call had made it all too clear that the bigger problem was coming to a head.
"Let's go into the house and talk," said Ginny, leading the way back towards the front door. It felt good to do something definite.
