Better With Two

"You don't want to go back in, do you?" Ginny asked, as they wandered as slowly as possibly back towards the castle. Draco was delaying, having tied his shoelace three times, tried to engage her interest in some sort of star formation twice, and was currently doing his best to convince her that it wasn't really that cold.

He smirked. "What gave you that idea?" he said, oozing sarcasm. He shook his head. "No. I only came because I knew you'd be coming too. Though, now I think about it, it would have been even worse if I'd have had to be openly horrible to you."

"I know. It isn't easy. But unfortunately it's the only way. If the Slytherins found out..."

She trailed off.

She hated this. She hated the fact that she couldn't talk to him anymore, that every sentence was full of regret and sadness, that every pause was so thick and heavy that it was more suffocating than liberating. And now she had the situation of the funeral to consider on top of everything else...

Draco's hand brushed hers gently, and before she could react he'd enveloped her hand in his, and was holding it tightly. She looked down at their joined hands, trying to make sense of it.

"You're worried," he said.

She nodded. "Yes."

"Tell me."

She knew it was useless to pretend.

"How in the name of Merlin are we going to do this, Draco? I'm a Weasley. I look like a Weasley, I act as a Weasley acts. I'm inherently a Muggle-loving piece of vermin. How am I going to negotiate my way into your parents' funeral?"

Draco, surprisingly, smirked again. She'd missed that self-confident expression. She felt like he was actually beginning to get back to being reasonably happy. Well, if not happy, at least recovering. It made her feel incredibly more comfortable in his presence.

"I think I have a way."

She frowned. "How?"

"Trandesempra."

At the blank look on Ginny's face, Draco smiled. This was different to his smirk. She liked this Draco. This Draco could completely melt all her insides and make her shiver at the same time.

"Transdesempra is a charm that changes the superficialities of a person to alter their appearance temporarily."

Ginny frowned. "So how come people don't use it instead of Polyjuice Potion?"

"You can't get specific results good enough to completely mimic another person. It's sort of... vague."

Ginny couldn't help but smile. "Should I be worried? Can you perform it without me ending up looking like a toad?"

Draco smiled arrogantly. "Of course, this is me we're talking about."

"Hmm. You know you're entirely too full of yourself Malfoy."

"What would you rather I was full of?"

Ginny smiled smoothly. "I think the issue is rather what you'd like to fill me with."

She saw Draco blink, surprised. "Two can play at that game, Draco. In fact, it's usually better with two."

Draco laughed suddenly. "I've severely underestimated you, Ginny."

"Yeah. You probably have."

"How long until the Ball's set to end, Gin?"

"Don't call me 'Gin', Drac, makes me sound like a cheap liquor. And we've got about three hours left. Why?"

"I've just had an idea."

"Did it hurt?"

Draco pushed Ginny on the shoulder, and she shoved back playfully.

"As a matter of fact, it felt quite good," Draco joked, making Ginny's stomach flare. "Now, as we appear to have enough time, d'you think I could show you this?" He pulled the jar with the third and final memory held within from the depths of his robes.

Ginny grinned. "Brilliant idea. Let's sit--"

She pulled him down so they were sat, side-by-side, on the stone steps outside the castle doors. Draco unscrewed the lid of the shallow pot and placed it on the step between their feet. Under the pretence of looking into the silvery glow, Ginny leant right over Draco, sliding her palm down his leg. Draco coughed firmly, in the back of his throat, but didn't say anything except,

"Ready?"

"Uh-huh. Let's go."

Ginny blinked. Her eyes, previously adjusted to the darkened grounds, were having problems with the sudden glare of torch-light. Well, at least she didn't feel cold anymore.

They'd arrived in the centre of a huge room, lined with intricate black and silver tapestries and drapes, with huge gilt frames and woodwork. In the centre of the cavernous ceiling hung a large, heavy chandelier, set with at least fifty tall, spindly dark green candles.

Ginny shivered. "Where are we?" She glanced at tall, thin windows, outside of which rain was pouring, running thickly down the planes, distorting the blackened skies.

"My parents' master bedroom," Draco said, sighing. "I hate it. Always have."

Ginny could understand why. It was the coldest, most intimidating bedroom she'd ever seen.

At that moment, the door burst open, smashing into the skirting board. Narcissa Malfoy strode into the room, fuming, and closely followed by a very worried looking Neviera. But however angry Narcissa was, Lucius, who stormed through the door just after, and slammed it shut again, was worse.

Both parents turned on Neviera, drawing their wands and pointing them straight at her.

"Perhaps you could explain to us," Narcissa bit out through tightly clenched teeth, "what in the name of Salazar you were doing."

Neviera glared at the floor for a few seconds, then lifted her eyes to Narcissa's.

"I'm afraid I don't entirely understand, Mrs Malfoy."

"Like hell you don't, Neviera. Muggle Magic."

"Draco wished to read--"

"But you know that book is forbidden to him! He is at an impressionable age!"

"Why is being impressioned to believe that this book is bad so important? It is a perfectly harmless book, Mrs Malfoy."

"Not for us, Neviera, and you knew that."

There was a dangerous, stony silence in the room. Ginny could see Lucius Malfoy, his teeth gritted, massaging the silver snake head atop his cane menacingly. It made Ginny feel a little bit sick.

Starting, she felt Draco place a hand firmly on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" he asked.

"Yeah. Yes, I'm fine," she lied. She had a horrible feeling that something awful was about to happen. Shortly afterwards, she saw why.

Without warning, Lucius Malfoy sprung forward, pulled back his cane, and in a flash of reflected candle light and jet black hair, Ginny saw Neviera recoil, her face in her hands.

"I want you out of my house!" Lucius roared, baring down on her. Ginny held her breath as he pulled Neviera to her feet by her hair. There was a bloody bruise on her left cheek. "Now!"

Narcissa did not defend Neviera, but turned her wand to the door, which burst open. "Out," she repeated frigidly.

Neviera took several heavy breaths, yanked her hair free, and turned to face the two Malfoys. Then, quicker than either of Draco's parents, she drew her wand and threw it out towards them, saying nothing. But the un-spoken spell hit each heavily in their stomachs and slammed them into the opposite wall.

"I hope you realise what you're making of your son," she said sadly, before turning on her heel and storming from the room.

Ginny swallowed, trying to remember when she'd become so breathless.

Draco didn't say anything, but slid his hand into hers and pulled her across the room. Ginny felt his palms were damp, and shaking slightly, but as he stepped over his parents' unconscious forms, his strides were even and level.

He pulled open a closet door, that Ginny previously hadn't noticed. Crouched inside was the small, shaking form of eight-year-old Draco Lucius Malfoy.

Ginny squeezed the hand in hers.

"Two weeks later, my parents sat me down and told me Neviera was dead."

Ginny frowned, pretending that this information hadn't shocked or stung her. "How did she die?" she asked instead, trying and failing to keep the waver out of her voice.

"I was never told," Draco replied coolly.

When they returned to the castle, Draco immediately dropped her hand and strode off, back towards the open doors, through which light was pouring onto the grass.

"Where are you going?" she asked loudly.

"Back to bed," he shouted back, waving her off.

Furious with his sudden reversion to old form, Ginny ran after him, pulled him to a halt by grabbing the lapels of his robes and placing herself in his path.

"Get out of the way, Ginny!"

"D'you know what I just realised, Malfoy?"

"What?" he spat.

"Your robes."

Draco sneered at her. "Oh?"

"Yes. None of your usual extravagancy. You look like a monk."

Draco looked down towards his black robes, thrown off.

And with that, Ginny pointed her wand directly at Draco's collar. A thin, silvery line of shimmery thread wove through the clear air, wavering slightly in the wind, and began weaving through the fabric, embroidering.

"Why are you doing this, Ginny?" Draco asked quietly, while Ginny guided the thread with her wand.

"Why am I doing what, exactly, Draco?" she replied innocently, glancing at him. His eyes were strangely dark, but glimmered in the torchlight.

"You know. You could cut your losses if you wanted to. You shouldn't have to deal with this," he jerked his head back, indicating the rest of the room. "You wouldn't come off any worse."

She tipped her head forward slightly, dropped her wand, and smoothed the fabric over his collar and chest, smiling to herself. Then she looked straight up into his face.

"Yes, I would," she said plainly.

He smiled. "Really?"

"It'd be bloody painful, Draco, and not just physically. Two months isn't a long time. It's long enough to know I can't quite do without you, though. I'm afraid you're stuck with me, Drakey."

She reached up and tugged Draco to her, hugging him. She felt him pushing his nose into her neck, breathing into her hair, his palms rubbing up and down her back. She didn't know quite how long they were there like that, and Ginny couldn't begin to hazard a guess.

"You know what else I realised?" she said to his neck.

"What?" came the muffled reply.

"You always, always try to shut everyone out, especially when you're upset or angry. And it's getting rather irritating, to be honest Draco. So I'd appreciate it if you could bloody well cut it out." She felt him chuckle into her shoulder.

"I'll do my best."

"Sure you will."

She pulled back slightly, enough to see his face.

"Shall we go back in?"

He nodded, smiling slightly.

"What are you smiling for?"

He shrugged. "I've never had this before," he said softly. "It's incredible."

Hoping to lighten the mood, Ginny laughed. "Thanks, you're not so bad yourself!"

And she fully let go of him. Draco looked a little stung, but nodded. "Okay."

Ginny started back up the steps, flattening her dress and cleaning off mud with her wand.

"We should probably go back in separately," she said distractedly. "It'll be suspicious if we come back together..." It was a few moments before she realised Draco wasn't following her. She glanced back over her shoulder.

"Draco?"

The light falling on his face made it look even more ghostly pale than usual, but it was the strangely un-identifiable expression in his grey eyes that worried Ginny.

"What is it?"

"This," he said. "All this sneaking and spying and hiding. I'm sick of it Ginny, I'm bloody sick of it." And with that, he, for the third time that night, grabbed hold of her hand and dragged her off, up the steps, through the Entrance Hall, and straight through the doors to the Ball.

The stunned silence was not immediate. It was like all the talk in the room gradually drained away as they crossed, initially un-noticed, from the door, working their way nimbly through the people amassed nearer the dancefloor, until Draco could not quite slip easily through them. Ginny took over and finished the leading, pulling Draco with her slightly smaller body as the density of the people thinned and they slipped out onto the floor. Still leading him, Ginny placed his hands at her waist and shoulder, and allowed him to take charge again.

By now they were in such prominent view that all the people surrounding them stopped moving, and stared blatantly. Ginny was barely containing a strange, strangled writhing in her belly, but she was grinning. Her inappropriate feelings of elation increased ten-fold when she heard a dull tinkling crash, and knew that Ron had just dropped something. She saw Draco grinning over her shoulder, and she looked back.

Ron was bright purple, furious trying to wrap his senses around what he was seeing. Harry seemed dumb-founded. Hermione was swallowing repeatedly, and Ginny saw her hands drifting unconsciously outwards towards Harry and Ron's arms. Good thing they did too, because almost simultaneously, Harry and Ron started yelling, and threw themselves forward. Hermione grabbed them both by the collars, and yanked them back, surprising them both. It, however, failed altogether to deter them as they shook themselves free and charged straight at Draco.

It all happened in a flash. Draco threw himself in front of Ginny, Ginny shoved her wand forwards under Draco's arm, Hermione turned hers to Draco, and Harry and Ron hit Ginny's spell head-on, flying backwards into the buffet table, splattering food everywhere and slumping to the ground, wild bat-bogeys flapping furosiously at their heads.

Somehow, in the middle of the aftermath, the flabbergasted silence which had become almost tangible in the Great Hall was broken by Luna Lovegood. Clapping.

Ginny blinked, and glanced around, Draco doing likewise. The pupils littering the room where breaking into spontaneous applause. As it built to a heavy tumult, even Hermione gave up and joined in, resignedly. Ginny was panting, her chest heaving. But she laughed. So did Draco.

Well, here we are again, the end of another chapter. Once again your critisms, reviews and ideas are greatfully received.