Purgatory
by Shieldmaiden wot
Chapter 7
When Draco came down to breakfast the next morning, Ginny was already there with an elbow propped on the table, absorbed in a book on Quidditch. A veil of flaming hair shielded her eyes. Her far hand was tracing lazy circles on the table; beside her, a spoon spun ghostly in a bowl of forgotten porridge. Draco raised his eyebrows and, fetching a bowl of his own from the rack on the wall, went to the stovetop for some breakfast. He heard a scrape and turned; she was gone.
His pale cheeks turned a faint shade of pink. Very well then.
They avoided each other for three days. The first evening, when Draco went up to bed, he found a dusty bottle by his bedside. A note in Molly's firm hand read, One tablespoon each evening. For dreamless sleep.
He took the bottle in his hand; it was surprisingly heavy, blue glass with a silver label. Hating himself, he uncapped it and drank. Five minutes later, sprawled on the bed and still wearing his grey robes, he was deep in sleep.
On the second day, Draco wandered into the living room to find Ginny curled up in a chair, still reading.
What, is she trying to become a Granger? he wondered.
She glanced up, once, as he took a seat. She scowled slightly and turned back to her book. Draco bit his lip, taking out his own book. They sat in careful silence for an hour before Ginny jumped to her feet, tossing her book to one side. He watched as she pulled her broomstick down from above the door and wrenched the door open. It slammed in her wake as she swept through.
Is she always this moody? Draco frowned and tried to focus on his book. Is she expecting a thank you for bursting into the only private space I have in this godforsaken hovel?
He couldn't quite muster the outrage he was looking for.
On the third day, Draco was sitting with his porridge when a brief roll of thunder from the stairs announced Ginny's descent.
'You'd think we raised elephants,' Arthur remarked absently.
Ginny poked her head into the kitchen, one hand still gripping the newel post; when she saw Draco, her eyes narrowed and she swung back, seeming to think better of her breakfast plans. Shaking her vivid hair as if to banish a pesky gnat, she headed outside.
Draco sighed. Molly and Arthur looked at him, eyebrows raised.
'Dear -' began Molly.
He shook his head and got up abruptly. With a wave of his hand, he sent his bowl and spoon to the sink; when the Weasleys looked back, he was already out the door.
Arthur shook his head. 'I don't know, Molly,' he murmured. 'I just don't know.'
He caught up with her out in the garden, hands in pockets and shoulders hunched, watching an incredibly ugly potato snuffling about under a bush.
He joined her. 'Merlin, what is that?'
'It's a gnome,' she said stonily. 'Most gardens have them.'
'I've never seen one in our grounds -' he stopped. 'Sorry.'
'For what? Your derision? Your ingratitude? Your horrid family?'
He sighed, trying not to rise to the bait.
'Look, thank you for waking me up. I'm sorry if… if my words gave you offense.' Taking a breath, he went on, 'If you haven't served him, it is hard to understand the hold he can have, even -'
'Even in death?' She rounded on him. 'You might want to think you're special, Malfoy. You've been having nightmares for what, a year? Two years?'
He opened his mouth to answer, but she prodded him in the chest with a finger. He jumped back and stared.
'I had nightmares for five years, Malfoy,' she whispered. 'Or have you forgotten? Were you so caught up in the – the Slytherin's heir, the purging of mudbloods – that you've forgotten who did it all?' She was breathing hard, her nostrils flared. Trying to keep her tears back, her anger in check.
The hairs rose on the back of his neck. 'I – I had forgotten…'
'Well I bloody haven't! You don't remember that your father was the one who started it? I was eleven, Draco. Do you know what it does to a person, a child, to have him take over your mind like that?' Her hands curled into fists. 'It's not fun, let me tell you.'
Pinned by her angry eyes, he was, finally, at a loss for words. He sighed. 'I… Ginny,' he said. 'I am sorry.'
They both knew he was apologizing for more than an old black diary.
'We were in too deep. What was I supposed to do?'
She was silent.
Frustrated, he threw up his hands, knotting them in his silvery hair. 'You don't think I'm paying for it?' he demanded. 'I will never be rid of this.' Roughly, he rolled up his left sleeve, tore off the bandage. The marks were healing, but the snake still seethed, bloated black coils on his pale skin.
She gazed at the Dark Mark for a while, then raised her head to meet his gaze. 'At last,' she said evenly. 'Something the Malfoys can't buy their way out of.'
He winced and looked away, his eyes searching for something solid to settle on. In the distance the wooded hilltops rose to the sky; the summer sun was already climbing the heights, burnishing the green land into gold. He looked back at Ginny, half expecting her to have vanished again. But she was still there, breathing more quietly now, the sun in her hair.
'Yes.' His voice was calmer, the anger gone. He rolled down his sleeve. 'Yes, I know that now.'
Disclaimer: I do not own J.K. Rowling's characters or books; I just play in her world.
It's been a few years since I last updated this story... but I'm back! Thank you so much for reading! Please read and review, I really appreciate the feedback.
