A/N – this is a bit of a transitional chapter. So the pace slows a bit while some things are explained. It was the single most difficult chapter to write for the entire story, and I'm not thrilled with it, but I didn't want to hold up the rest of the story over this. So, please bear with me. Much more interesting stuff is coming up shortly.
- x - x -
It took the elf at least three attempts to rouse her from sleep before she finally woke the next morning. What little sleep she'd been able to manage had been fitful and filled with dreams, making her unwilling to get out of bed one moment sooner than absolutely necessary. Waking meant that she would once again have to face the reality of her life, and the thought of that was more unbearable than usual.
When she finally did crawl out of her haven, she found herself feeling exhausted from lack of sleep aside from feeling slightly confused and worried.
Her dreams had been filled with images from her fantasies of late and part of her couldn't help but wonder if she'd allowed some of those fantasies to go just a bit too far. Part of her even hoped that what she remembered had been, in fact, only an incredibly livid dream. The idea left her then coming to the next logical conclusion that, if indeed she'd somehow been unable to disseminate reality from fantasy, then it was entirely likely that she was possibly going insane.
Oddly enough, she welcomed the idea of insanity. If the events she remembered had only been an incredibly livid dream, she wouldn't mind if she lost all touch with reality and looked forward the the day she might be fully committed to a life in St. Mungo's.
In a way, insanity was far more preferable to having to face the consequences of her actions.
The only thing that was certain at the moment was that she was clearly sleep-deprived. She hadn't slept well since the day she entered the house, but last night had been nearly sleepless. After showering and dressing, she sat at her makeup table and stared into the looking glass, only to see a zombie-like version of herself looking back. Her skin was pale, and the dark circles under her eyes made her look to be much older than her years. She'd lost weight during the few months of her imprisonment as well, making her cheeks appear just a bit too hallow.
Barely four months had passed and she barely recognized herself. Dressed in the finest of clothing, behaving like a meek, subservient wife, attending parties with Death Eaters and doing nothing to fight them, oh, and she couldn't forget the detail of being a whore. She was finally looking as sickly on the outside as she felt on the inside.
With a heavy sigh, she readied herself to endure another day. Wandering back into the bath she faced the mirror and used a number of glamour charms to minimize the dark circles under her eyes, staring sadly at her wand after she finished.
She hardly ever used it for anything other than glamour charms and gardening anymore. All her years of schooling seemed to have gone completely to waste. She couldn't even use it to defend herself against Lucius, as they were both bound by the terms of their contract to not use their wands against each other in any way.
Thinking once again of the hateful contract, Ginny came to the conclusion that there was good reason r that such legal agreements were best left to experienced solicitors. It had been foolish of her to think that she would have been capable enough with her informal studies to cover everything in the agreement. She'd completely overlooked the fact that, while he wouldn't use a wand against her, it meant nothing as far as physical abuse. In addition, she wasn't certain that the agreement didn't have loopholes for other Death Eaters to possibly harm her in some other way.
She thought of how different Draco was from his father. How he'd changed from the boy who'd blindly adored and emulated his father while he'd attended Hogwarts. Unfortunately, thoughts of him led her to once again feel a warm fluttering in her abdomen and forced an unbidden blush to her cheeks.
Hurriedly, she finished dressing and proceeded downstairs. As she seated herself at the breakfast table, she found herself wondering about how she was going to face Draco with her amorous thoughts being so powerfully obvious. Fortunately, he wasn't at breakfast, which wasn't entirely unusual. Lucius never seemed to care about whether or not his son chose to join them for that meal, as he normally was more focused on his newspaper and instructing Ginny on her responsibilities for the day.
If Lucius noticed the unusually pink coloring on her face, he made no mention of it. In fact, he merely sat and began his breakfast as usual. He looked up after scanning the headlines in the Prophet, interrupting her thoughts abruptly.
"It will be our turn to host the dinner party for the Ministry this month," he stated with no preamble.
She almost dropped the piece of toast she'd been about to consume at his words. "A dinner party?"
"Yes, one like was held at the McNair's last month. Nothing too large, only twenty or so guests."
She tried to keep from stuttering her response. In a way, the conversation was a godsend, since it completely pulled her from her previous thoughts. However, she immediately began to worry about actually planning one of the pompous functions. "Oh."
"Is there a problem, Ginevra?"
The stray thought of poisoning all her guests briefly crossed her mind, since she'd thought of it often enough, but she pushed it aside in favor of more appropriate conversation. "No. Not exactly. It's just that I've never been involved with planning anything like this. I'm sure that you would want the evening to be flawless."
He nodded in agreement, almost approvingly. "I give you permission to Floo my assistant at the Ministry if you require anything in your endeavor," he responded.
She nodded in acknowledgment, hoping she wouldn't need to contact the woman who worked for her husband. Drusilla Yaxley was a rather disagreeable sort. She was an older witch, with wavy brown hair and a cold, calculating expression in her eyes. Her husband was ambitious, and looked to be the sort who would murder his own mother if it was convenient for his plans. The Yaxleys' loyalty to Lucius extended only as far as Lucius' favor with Voldemort, so Ginny dearly hoped to do everything in her power to avoid being indebted to the the couple for even the smallest of favors, but she didn't voice her thoughts.
Bidding her husband goodbye, she decided to retreat to her parlor, intending to start her task by looking through Narcissa's ledgers for items that had been paid for after similar events. She would, of course, consult Draco as well, although Ginny hoped that, by that time, she would have found a cure for her incessant fantasies.
She never made it to her parlor. As soon as she turned to make her way down the long hallway, the object of her thoughts appeared directly in her path without warning, causing her to nearly crash into him. Stopping quickly, she lost her balance and he quickly reached out a hand to steady her.
"Oh..." was all she seemed capable of saying, jumping at the unexpected contact.
However, his hand on her waist failed to move away, even after she was no longer in danger of falling. Quite the contrary, his other hand had moved to hold her more firmly, the contact causing her to tremble with anticipation as she looked up at him.
"Sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you."
His smile was so very warm and tempting. She found herself fighting to keep from throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him. Instead, she could only look up at him and blush.
One of his hands moved from her waist and he brought it up to the side of her face, his thumb caressing her cheek. She felt her chest tighten as she gasped in a mixture of confusion and pleasure. All self-control deserted her as slosed her eyes and leaned into his hand.
"I missed you after you left," he said.
Her eyes snapped open in fear as she looked up at him. "It wasn't a dream?"
He gave a short, low laugh, "What?"
Worried that she might have said the wrong thing, she tried to come up with an excuse. "Ummm..." was all that started to come out of her mouth as she stalled for time.
"You thought you were dreaming?" he said, rapidly releasing her and taking a step back.
She stopped herself from saying anything else along such lines by covering her mouth with her hand. Of course, she was fully aware that she hadn't been dreaming, but she'd hoped. He'd been right, she didn't need this kind of complication, and now had no idea of how to deal with the repercussions of her rash, desperate action.
Her hesitation was immediately noticed by Draco and she saw his playful expression quickly vanish, replaced by a brief look of shock before hiding his feelings behind his typical mask of indifference. She'd hurt him, and it was the last thing she'd wanted to do, but she was still in the process of sorting out her own feelings on the matter and found herself completely unprepared for responding to his reaction.
"You do regret it," he said, taking another step back. "Ginny, I am so sorry." He took another step back, looking very much like he was ready to run away from her.
She knew him well enough to know that if he retreated from her now, thinking that he'd hurt her in some way, she probably wouldn't see him for days. She jumped forward to grab at his arm before he could bolt. "No!" she said. Unfortunately, she had no other words at the moment. She'd been completely unprepared for this meeting, and now it had gone entirely wrong.
He stopped and turned back to her, looking just as confused as she had felt earlier that day. They stared at each other, both feeling more than a bit awkward, and each apparently at an equal loss for words. She rapidly tried to come to terms with the fact that her memory hadn't been a dream and, in fact, she'd spent much of the previous night making love to the handsome young man.
"I thought it was too wonderful to be real," she said, her voice sounding small, barely above a whisper.
He moved back toward her, his eyes dark and serious as he once again wrapped his arms around her. He didn't say anything. He simply leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, softly at first. Then, when he was certain she wouldn't pull away, he deepened it, letting her know the depth of his passion.
She sighed softly as she returned the kiss, hoping he understood that she truly did welcome his touch. Finally, after several minutes, he pulled away. "It was very real," he said quietly and released his hold on her. "I meant what I said, Ginny. Whatever is between us, it's your decision. I don't want to pressure you."
As soon as he stepped away, she missed the warm feeling of his embrace, and the look in his eyes was so intent after he spoke that she felt her heart leap in her chest.
She nodded. "I understand. I just... I just don't know what exactly to think right now."
It was true. She wanted him. She wanted to be near him and so much more, but the fear and confusion about how a relationship with him would only complicate her life was now weighing on her heavily, completely overriding the feelings that had drawn her to him.
He looked sad, but nodded in understanding. "You know where to find me if you need me," he said quietly, turning and walking away to leave her to her thoughts. She watched him go, feeling torn about following, as she tried to sort out the barrage of thoughts and feelings going through her mind.
She found herself drifting around the manor for the rest of the morning, trying to concentrate on her typical tasks but she was incredibly unsuccessful. Every few moments, memories of the previous evening came unbidden to the forefront of her thoughts.
She had no idea what to do. By lunch, she could barely manage sitting still, having spent the entire morning completely preoccupied with her dilemma, yet no closer to any sort of conclusion than when she first awoke.
She finished the bare minimum of her tasks and stormed outside, eager to release her pent up energy in any way possible. At first she merely wandered across the grounds, hoping that a good walk would clear her head. But after a half hour and no success, she turned to the only place on the estate that ever seemed to offer her any real peace.
As she entered the carriage house, she found him sitting on the couch in the tack room, his feet propped up on a trunk, reading. Hearing her enter, he looked up from his book, a lock of hair falling carelessly into his eyes and all the words that she had prepared to speak abruptly abandoned her.
He slowly put his feet down and placed the book aside, his expression guarded as he stood to face her. She couldn't blame him for his worried expression, she was shaking with emotion that she couldn't quite place.
The fact that he just stood there, waiting for her to speak didn't help her at all. Her breathing was sharp and shallow. She wanted to shout but had no idea what she wanted to say so she stood there, staring at him, her eyes wild with barely contained frustration.
"Are you all right?" he finally asked, as his expression showing concern when he recognized her state of distress.
Standing there, facing him after coming to terms with their actions made her shake. As she finally began to sort out her emotions, she came to fully realize that an entirely different emotion clearly overshadowed all the fear and confusion that she'd been battling with all morning.
He took three long strides toward her and, without thinking, she took a step back. She didn't miss the look of hurt in his eyes but she couldn't allow herself to react to him just yet. The emotions building within her were nearly all consuming. Crossing her arms protectively in front of herself in a self-hugging gesture, she looked down and away from him as her thoughts burned through her mind.
He started to reach for her again, thinking that perhaps she was crying, but then, her hands clenched into fists. When she looked up again, he saw that her face was hard with anger. He moved back, immediately assuming that her anger was directed at him.
"I don't know what to do next!" she said, her voice full of frustration. She looked away from him and then reached her hands into her hair, pulling on it as her gaze darted wildly around the room, her pent up frustration evident in her every movement.
"I'm so angry, Draco," she said, her voice harsh and ragged from emotion. "And the worst part is that I'm not sure what I'm angry about."
Realizing that it was likely in his best interest to not interrupt, he stepped back and watched as she vented what was likely months of pent up fury. She appeared ready to strike out at anything.
"First, there's my life..." she said harshly, not looking at him. "All I can think of is all the things that I can never have, and I hate myself for getting into this situation in the first place."
She began pacing back and forth in front of him, in short steps, as if she couldn't decide which direction she needed to go. "Or, maybe, I'm angry with my brothers, for having been stupid enough to force me into being here in the first place. Then, of course, there's Lucius, who makes every day just so special in his own way," the sarcasm simply dripped from her voice as she stated that last.
She turned suddenly and kicked the door causing it to swing closed with a thundering slam. She gave a short yowl in pain, as her flimsy dress shoes were no match for the force of her kick. Then began to hop about, cursing colorfully. Draco found himself torn between concern and a mild form of amusement, as he'd never quite seen such an amazing display of temper. He found that it rather suited her.
Draco moved forward to assist, but she stopped him with the force of her still angry gaze. She continued rubbing her foot, then began to hobble back and forth as she continued to rant incoherently, causing Draco to subconsciously keep his distance for his own safety.
Then she stopped, looked squarely at him and continued, "And then there's you."
"Me?" he repeated, his voice going up an octave. In all truth, he had been expecting her to possibly be angry with him, but he somehow didn't expect to find that he was among those on the prestigious list of total wankers she'd just named. And, he became uncomfortably aware of the fact that he was the only one on said list who was currently within striking distance of the angry witch.
"Yes, you," she said, the absurdity of the words, causing her to calm significantly. She leaned against the door frame, rubbing her injured foot. "For being so nice."
He looked at her, fully aware that he likely looked like an idiot because he didn't even attempt to keep his mouth from hanging open in shock at her words.
"You're angry with me for being nice," he stated, not bothering to hide his confusion.
She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, allowing some of her anger to release.
"No, not exactly," she said, almost in defeat. She wasn't truly angry with him, although there was no denying that she was angry at her situation. Taking it out on him simply because he was her only outlet was just a bit unfair. "But what I don't understand is why you are so nice."
He attempted to give her his most innocent look, hoping it would appease her. "I happen to like you, Weasley."
"You were a right git in school, as I remember. And now... now you are like an entirely different person. I never pressed you about why, but I think I deserve to know more now."
He rubbed a hand over his head, mussing his hair as he looked at her, obviously trying to decide how to answer. Finally, he moved back to the sofa, and patted the seat beside her, silently asking her to sit. She gave a weary sigh, and limped over to the spot, complying with his request.
He looked down, releasing a deep breath before he spoke. "How do you know that I wasn't always like I am with you?"
She looked at him in disbelief, making him give a small half-smile in return. He continued before she had a chance to chastise him for his apparently facetious question. "The person I was at Hogwarts..." he started, pausing as if to consider his words. "I'm not sure I know how to say this."
She tried to appear more understanding, the last of her anger ebbing away as she saw the difficulty that he seemed to be having with his words. It appeared as if it was far from a simple answer to her question.
After a moment, he finally asked, "When you are with my father, or the others, you behave differently. You hide who you really are, correct?"
"Well, yes, I suppose," she replied, not understanding his change in the subject.
"But it's not you. It's not your personality."
She shook her head.
"I hate it when you act that way, by the way," he said, a hint of teasing, mixed with a bit of anger in his tone. "But, you know that you have to behave like that in front of them, because that's what is expected of you. Am I right?"
Her shoulders sagged as she thought about how much she hated putting on the act of being Lucius' wife. It was true. She nodded, unwilling to voice the admission aloud.
"Can you imagine how I would have been able to survive in school if the others in Slytherin House had any hint of what I'm like around Barnabas, if they knew I was anything other than arrogant and superior?"
"But you seemed to love being a Slytherin..." she interjected.
"Yes, and I'm not denying for even a moment that I hated Mudbloods and truly thought of myself as being superior to the rest of you in every way. It was where I belonged."
She looked at him in confusion. "I don't understand, then."
"I always had a quiet side as well, especially when I was young, but only my mother was privileged enough to see that. She and I spent time out here while my father was away during the days, and it was the happiest time of my life."
He leaned forward, staring down at his hands as he apparently became lost in the memory as he continued to speak. "I adored my father, and wanted to be like him, so I suppressed that part of my personality around him because he would have disapproved. I was subconsciously practicing a form of Occlumency, although I wasn't aware of it at the time. Its a way of compartmentalizing oneself, so that others see what you need them to see, while you keep your real feelings locked away."
He looked over at her to see if she seemed to understand. "To place part of yourself aside like that, and lock it away..." he said, sidetracking slightly. "I'd gotten so good at hiding parts of myself that, at one point, I'd all but forgotten who I really was."
Ginny thought of her own studies in Occlumency, and how it was becoming easier to hide her own personality behind a wall of magic inside her head. She could only imagine how it might have been for Draco, being just a boy, to master the concept, possibly without realizing that he was doing so. It was hard to believe that the boy she'd known then had any empathy whatsoever.
"So what brought you back?" she asked.
He gave a defeated sigh and buried his face in his hands, as if not wanting to face the thought of what he was about to say. "The day I found out I couldn't be a Death Eater. The day I discovered that I could never kill a person in cold blood, no matter how much my father or the Dark Lord wanted me to."
She'd wondered about this for such a long time, but it had always been a topic that they'd avoided.
"That was when your father disowned you?"
"Not quite," he said sadly. "They gave me other assignments, other 'opportunities' to overcome what they thought was fear. I failed several times before they realized that I was never going to be as dedicated as my father."
The look on his face turned impossibly sad. "All during my childhood, my father only wanted our family to be well-established. He thought that, since the Dark Lord was going to be in power, that it only made sense for us to follow. He really thought that the ideals that Voldemort preached were the right way for our society. We all believed that. Then, when the Dark Lord came into power, things changed. I don't think anyone understood how much Voldemort demanded of his followers in return for his favor."
"Draco, I don't quite follow what you say. Lucius is absolutely fanatical about everything Voldemort says."
He drew in a ragged breath, as if it hurt to speak. "He changed when he had to kill my mother."
"So, the rumors are true," she said, her mouth dropping open with surprise. "But I thought you said they loved each other?"
"Voldemort gave him the choice to kill her or me, or he'd kill the both of us himself. Occlumency only works for a short while with the Dark Lord, as you probably know, and he'd found out about how my mother and I were embarrassingly weak, as they say. He blamed my mother for my flaws. She practically begged my father to choose to kill her instead of me."
Ginny gasped in sympathy, placing her hand on his arm in comfort.
He continued. "When she died, my father changed. He didn't speak for several days. He just walked around the house in shock. I don't think he ate or slept during that entire time. Then, it was as if someone had taken over his body. He started twisting the logic of her death so that it was all her fault. He blamed me as well, and turned into a zealot worshiping the Dark Lord. I couldn't talk to him, and the more I tried, the more he twisted facts to ostracize me."
"He's insane," she stated simply.
"I believe I already told you that."
"So why did you stay?"
Draco shrugged, looking defeated. "He's my father. At first, I'd hoped that I could bring him back. It didn't help that I also had no money and nowhere else to go."
"But you do now... have someplace to go, that is," she said.
He ignored her question. "He's not ready for me to leave yet. And besides," he gave her a small, lopsided smile, "I have a few things here that I'm not ready to give up just yet."
She smiled shyly in return, suddenly reminded of the recent change in their relationship. The thought made her blush. It also made her incredibly uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat, pulling her hand away from him.
"You don't need to be nice to me. I don't know why you are. You should leave, just as soon as you get the chance," she said quietly.
"Why would you say that?"
She shook her head, unwilling to say anything in response.
"What's happened to you Ginny?" he prodded. "When we were in school, you were always so full of fire that you practically lit the room when you walked in."
She gave a heavy sigh, leaning against him more and feeling the tension seep from her body. "I didn't know you'd noticed me back then."
He smiled. "You were hard not to notice. The first day I met you, you threatened me for the sake of defending Potter, and you were just a slip of a thing."
She gave a small chuckle as she recalled the memory. It was hard to believe that she could now look upon that awful incident almost fondly. "I'd hardly call that as my shining moment."
"No," he said. "But you always seemed to know your mind. You always seemed to have a confidence that most others your age lacked. It was...admirable."
A feeling of sadness and loss came over her as she thought of those days in school. It had only been a few short years ago, yet it felt like a lifetime. She felt old, much older than her nineteen years. "Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not a school girl anymore."
"No," he said softly, "I would have to agree with you." His tone became husky as he spoke and he leaned closer toward her.
She found herself leaning into him also and stopped herself before the physical attraction became too much. She shook her head in a 'no' gesture. It was up to her to stop this.
"Please, I'm not worth your time," she said.
He pulled away enough to look at her, worried by her words. "No," he replied. "You are worth far more."
She looked up at him, reaching her hand up to caress his cheek and wondering how she'd managed to become so very fond of him over these past few months. "For what? There's no future for anything between us and so much to lose if we're found out. You've become very dear to me and I don't want to risk losing that."
He looked so very saddened by her words, she could only call it a pout. If anything, it made him so much more endearing to her. She needed him to understand. She thought of the image of herself in the mirror that morning, all pale and gaunt. She hated herself. She hated what she was allowing herself to become. If she cared about him, she needed him to understand so that he could move on and leave her to the mess that she'd created for herself.
"I'm nothing but a whore, Draco."
He pulled away, looking shocked, almost wounded by her words. "Because of me?" He shook his head, denying her statement. "Ginny, that's ridiculous."
"No, not just because of last night," she replied. "There are still things you don't know about me."
"What exactly are you saying, then?" he said, sounding just a trifle irritated with her statement.
She leaned forward, burying her face in her hands, not wanting to look at him, but he needed to know the truth about her. If he did, then maybe he'd be willing to hate her enough to end whatever this 'thing' was between them.
"I'm saying that I'd do whatever I need to do to keep my family safe."
"So, you married my father. I'm aware of that," he said bitterly.
And she told him about her night in the village, meeting the Muggle, and making certain that she would have at least one night where giving her body was her own choice. As she finished her story, she added, "It's so funny, that, never having done anything like this, within six months I've shared a bed with three different men. I just wanted to let you know why."
A tear dropped down her cheek as she finished speaking, and the silence that stretched between them was almost like a physical wall.
"So, do you think of this Muggle often?" he asked, finally.
She wondered if he was jealous of her memory of the man. In a way she was flattered, but she decided to put him at ease. "I did, at first. He was kind, and I'll always be grateful for that," she explained. "You're father was furious when he found out, of course, but it was worth it."
"Do you remember much about him?"
She shook her head, "No. I could barely see straight, I was so drunk and it was so dark. It doesn't matter. You've replaced him in my thoughts for quite a while."
He nodded and for a long moment seemed lost in thought before he gave a short chuckle, a small smile coming to his face. "This doesn't change the way I feel about you in the least, you understand."