Chapter Six

"I have a suggestion." Ginevra stated confidently over dinner on Wednesday. It was grilled chicken and penne tonight, something she knew was Draco's favorite. "Wouldn't it be fun to have Hermione and Ron over sometime?"

Draco nearly choked on his wine and looked at her aghast. "Hermione and Ron? Are you serious?"

"Quite." Ginevra said softly. "I just think, well I haven't seen any of my family in ages and it would be fun! We could have drinks, watch a movie…. I daresay Hermione's introduced him to some of her Muggle ways by now."

Draco looked down at his pasta slowly. The last time he'd seen Weaslebee and his badger of a girlfriend was when they had escorted Ginevra here before they continued into Westminster. Granger had been pleasant enough, most likely for Ginevra's sake but Weaslebee had been quite cold. Draco wasn't sure if he wanted someone like that in his home.

"Well, sweet, it seems, judging by their last visit, that they prefer to stay away. I mean, your brother was rather… rude. And uncomfortable."

Ginevra wore a hurt face. "Hermione dragged him along trying to make me feel better. If I asked, I know they would consent to come and stay just for a little while."

Draco had kept his eyes on Ginevra while she said this and had not missed the gleam in her eye she had failed to hide by looking into her plate. He leaned forward menacingly.

"You've already asked them." It was a statement, not a question. Ginevra did not say anything in response. "Well?" Draco cried out suddenly, making Ginevra jump.

"I received their owl just this afternoon." She said softly.

Draco tried to take a calming breath, but failed. "Damn it, Gin! You need to ask for these things, not blindly take them! I cannot believe you would invite these, these people into my home! And not even with my permission!" He was yelling now and had stood from his chair. Ginevra sat frozen, not believing what she was hearing.

Finally, she caught her breath. "These people? What exactly do you mean?

"These," he struggled to find the words to fill a sentence, but Ginevra took advantage of his silence.

"Bloodtraitors, isn't it?" she was now standing as well. "You just can't get rid of your old ways! For God's sake! Draco, Voldemort was killed a whole two years ago! Are you really the same person you were?"

"Of course not! How could you say—"

"Because you," Ginevra took a deep breath and pointed her finger at him, just two feet away. "Are exactly like your father."

These words hit Draco hard, deep in his stomach. Ginevra lowered her finger and stood in front of him, defying him, willing him to retaliate. Draco pulled at his hair and turned his back to her. Ginevra suddenly very much wanted to comfort him for her violent words which had flown from her mouth without a thought. Just as she was about to take a step forward to place a hand on his shoulder, he swept back around to face her. Draco's arm flew out, catching her throat in one hand and hitting her hand against the nearby wall.

"Don't you ever," he said in a lowered voice. "Speak like that again. I am nothing like him!" He shoved her into the wall again.

As Ginevra's head hit the wall for a second time, tears, first of pain then of sorrow, sprung to her eyes. Draco immediately let go, suddenly horrified by his actions. Ginevra slid to the floor and wept. She was not injured, although the back of her head and her neck stung. But the Draco she had fallen in love with had never laid a hand to her. It was quite shocking to think that he had.

Draco took several steps back, trying desperately to find some explanation to his sudden outburst, but he could not. His old evil mindset had simply appeared for a moment, but his lover in pain had returned his nature. Draco stepped forward once, unsure if he should try to comfort her, seeing as he had attacked her.

Draco could not stand doing nothing for her. He crouched down, only a foot from where Ginevra was hunched. He reached out to her, palm up, trying his best to be unthreatening. Ginevra sensed his movement and chanced a glance. Through her tears, she saw Draco's hand outstretched, his head down. She was nervous to let him touch her again. But it was quite unlike Draco to calmly wait for her to bring her hand to his, instead of taking full control himself. Ginevra saw this tenderness in his actions and slowly reached out her hand. When they made contact, Draco looked up surprised. He wanted her to understand his loss of control desperately, but was it possible she already did? He had not thought so until he met her tearful gaze.

Draco swallowed. "Are you… you're alright, aren't you?"

"I've had much worse," Ginevra said softly. She went to stand, but Draco was quicker and helped her up. "Thank you," she said, still unsure of where this incident had left them. She stumbled a tiny bit and Draco caught her arm. Ginevra pulled out of his grip.

"I'm going to sleep in my old room tonight." She said tentatively. Draco nodded and watched her leave the dining room. As soon as she was out of sight, he reeled back and hit the rich maroon wall with his fist, hard enough to leave little chips of paint on his inflamed knuckles. Draco sunk to his knees and dropped his chin to his chest. What had he done?