Chapter XI: Inopinatum Solacium

This chapter title translates to An Unexpected Comfort.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to the Harry Potter series and no, I'm not J. K. Rowling. What I do own is a Pan's Labyrinth DVD, which I seriously recommend to everyone and anyone out there, so long as they don't mind personal violence. The story, acting, and music amid the violence are all too good to overlook.

In this chapter: The madness of Ginny Weasley, An unusual escape route, and A wrestling match.

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"Malfoy, wake up! Please wake up!"

Feeling himself being shaken roughly out of his numb stupor, Draco became aware of Weasley still muttering frantically to herself, every now and then alternating with a quick reviving spell probably meant for him. Opening his eyes and pushing her away, he nearly laid back down from the sharp pain in his head.

"No, Malfoy, you have to get up, c'mon!" As soon as she realized he was awake, she started pulling him up with what he assumed was all her strength. As soon as he was standing by himself, she thrust his wand into his hand and turned around, yelling wildly, "Don't come any closer! It'll be the last thing you do!"

Blinking rapidly and trying to size up their situation, he realized there was something wrong with her. She was breathing far too quickly, there was a edgy and wild look in her eyes, and the hand that was holding her wand outstretched seemed to be trembling slightly. He was still in the filthy pen, but the gate seemed to have been blasted off its hinges and was now laying a few feet inside the enclosure. Scattered around the perimeter of the pen was what appeared to be the entire population of the encampment. They were a surly looking bunch, all men holding some form of Muggle weapon and glaring steadily at Weasley.

He quickly turned around so his back was to Weasley's back, holding his wand out threateningly and wondering how they were going to get out of this. Some of the mens' attention shifted to him, but he noticed that most of them continued to look firmly at Weasley with a mixture of anger, caution, and something that seemed a lot like fear, though that seemed unlikely to Draco.

"Now back off, or you'll be sorry!" Weasley said suddenly, her voice sounding much more raw than usual.

One of the men standing closer to Draco openly scoffed, lowering his crude club scornfully. "And why should we be afraid of the likes of you?" he asked mockingly, "A puny little girl with nothing but a little stick of wood!" He laughed, a horrible grating sound.

"Shut up!" hissed another man, "You don't know what that little stick of wood is capable of!"

"Or that puny little girl, for that matter," agreed another.

The first man just laughed again. As he made to take a step forward, Weasley jabbed her wand sharply in his direction. "Make another move and you'll regret it!" she shouted, her voice shooting out of control.

The man nudged forward, not enough to be called a true step, but just enough to make Weasley tense. The man next to him put a hand on his shoulder, but the first man shrugged it off, laughed, and took a real step forward this time. Instantly, Weasley shot a stunning spell at him, which caught him square in the chest and propelled him slightly backward from the force of the incantation. There was no mistaking the obvious fear in the other men now as they gasped and shuffled away from the pen.

"I told you we shouldn't bother with her," muttered the man that had been guarding their pen originally. "There haven't been magic folk in these parts nigh on a hundred years. We don't know where they came from, or what they can do." He seemed to be mainly addressing Gral, the leader of the encampment.

"Aye," said another man, stronger this time, "We should just let 'em go. We'd end up with half our men either dead or injured. It's just not worth it." Most of the other men were either nodding or murmuring agreement, glancing nervously at the pen, where Weasley was still standing in the same position, her wand hand visibly shaking.

Gral seemed to be considering this option, his gaze firmly upon Weasley, as if sizing her up. His eyes, Draco noticed, were filled with the same fear as most of his men, though he concealed it better than they did. Whatever was wrong with Weasley seemed to be working in their favor at the moment, so Draco decided to help it along any way he could.

"That's right," he said to Gral, startling some of the men, who seemed to have forgotten he was there, "You wouldn't believe what she's capable of when she's like this; it'd be better for you if you listened to your men."

Weasley looked round at him, startled that he had spoken up, with a rather amusing cross between anger at being insulted and gratitude for standing by her. He simply nodded discreetly to her before turning his attention back to Gral, who was eying him suspiciously. A tense moment passed: the men fidgeted, Weasley looked intently at Gral, still shaking rather badly, and Gral eyed the two of them carefully. Finally, he seemed to come to a decision and cleared his throat to speak.

"Let 'em go," he ordered his men, gesturing for them to move away from the pen, his jaw set in grudging respect. The men obeyed quickly; any who tried to protest were dragged roughly away by their companions. When all the men had moved a good distance away from the entrance of the pen, Gral bowed mockingly, gesturing for them to leave, a hard look of acceptance on his face.

Draco waited for Weasley to go first, but she seemed rooted to the ground, clenching her shaking hands tightly. Her breathing had slowed some, but there was obviously still something wrong with her. Draco nudged her, hoping she would take the hint before their opportunity slipped away. With what seemed to be a great amount of effort, she edged forward, her knees wobbling pathetically. Draco wondered what she had done to make these men so frightened of her even when she was so obviously out of control of her own body.

He put his hand on her shoulder, looking at her inquiringly when she glanced at him. She shook her firmly in answer to his unspoken question before swallowing determinedly and marching stiffly through the gate, her wand still pointed threateningly at Gral to insure his honesty.

It felt almost surreal to walk calmly out of the encampment when Draco had expected them to have to flee while frantically throwing spells over their shoulders. Weasley walked forward quickly, looking almost robotic in her steps. She seemed to have a destination set in her mind, so Draco just followed her while glancing back every now and then to make sure they weren't being followed.

When Draco figured that they were far enough away to relax, he grabbed Weasley's arm to stop her. When she just shrugged out of his touch and continued marching forward, he frowned and tried again.

"Weasley, where are you going?" he asked, "We're far enough away. If we were being followed, something would've happened by now." She stopped abruptly and although he couldn't see her face, she seemed to be processing what he had said before slowly nodding and turning to face him. Draco was taken aback; even with all the time that had passed, she still had a rather frightening look in her eyes, something wild that Draco usually associated with a trapped animal. An immediate concern for her welled up within him so suddenly he even surprised himself.

Gripping her trembling shoulders until she looked at him, he lowered his face until they were on the same level before saying as calmly as he could, "Okay. What on earth is wrong with you?"

Her eyes darted around, looking anywhere but right at him. Then, to his utter surprise, her bottom lip began to tremble, her eyes welled up with tears, and she let out a loud, uncontrolled sob.

She seemed as shocked as he was by her reaction. She covered her mouth with her hand and tried to wipe her eyes with embarrassment, muttering an apology. He felt a strange wrench in his chest he didn't remember ever feeling before and wondered briefly if there was something wrong with him. Then, deciding that he truly didn't care, he pulled her to him and wrapped his arms comfortingly around her.

Almost as if she had been waiting for him to do so, she clung to him and sobbed unrestrainedly into his shirt. Not knowing entirely what he was doing, he smoothed her hair and murmured what he hoped were soothing things to her. He felt her suddenly lean her weight on him and realized that her knees had finally given out on her. Before she could slide down anymore, he hoisted her into his arms, sat against the most comfortable tree he could find, and set her down on his lap, still clumsily attempting to calm her.

Some time later, just when he was beginning to think she would never stop, her sobs retreated into hiccuping gasps that became more and more infrequent until finally she had stopped crying altogether and just lay there in his arms, clutching his shirt and wiping her face rather pathetically. Wondering why he didn't just push her away, he instead pulled her closer and cleared his throat expectantly.

When she didn't seem to take the hint, he asked quietly, "Are you going to tell me what happened now?" She looked up at him, seeming startled to find him there.

"Huh?" was her most eloquent response. He rolled his eyes, not able to help the small smile that crept onto his face.

"Well, you could either explain or start crying again," he drawled as unsympathetically as he could. Dropping the tone, he looked at her as if in sudden thought. "You aren't going to cry again, are you?"

Something in his frightened question seemed to amuse her, as she giggled weakly before smiling at him in surprised gratitude. Looking down at her, he felt the same wrench in his chest as he had earlier and realized that her small smile was all he needed.

"Well," she began shakily, laying her head back down on his chest, "When I got free of the pen, I ran straight to the main tent to look for our wands, but someone tripped me and I knocked myself out for a few minutes...at least I think it was only a few minutes...but when I woke up, they heard me and they...tried to...well..." She trailed off, shrinking into his arms even more.

"They didn't actually...er, well, that, did they?" he asked cautiously. She still seemed rather upset and he didn't want to accidentally send her off into another fit of crying.

"No," she murmured as he let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. "They certainly tried to, but I lost control. I...I think it was accidental magic. You know, the kind most people use before they get their own wands, when they're upset or in danger."

"What did you do?" he asked curiously.

She paused for a moment, her eyes narrowed in thought, before saying quietly, "It felt almost like a shock wave, just a burst of magic. It sort of spread out"—she moved her arms out from her chest in a vague motion—"and knocked them all back. Most of them were too stunned to do anything, so I just grabbed the wands and ran as fast as I could. I wasn't really thinking clearly at the time, but the next thing I remember is trying to revive you."

She looked at him, looking a bit concerned. "It took me way too long to wake you up. What happened when I left you there in the pen?"

He considered stretching the truth, but decided to go with honesty since she most likely wouldn't believe him if he lied anyway. "I dodged about two more hits before they knocked me out," he said wryly. "What did you expect when I didn't have my wand?"

With a slightly smug smile, she nudged his shoulder with her fist, saying, "Yeah, you are rather pathetic, with or without a wand."

Faking a glare, he rolled his eyes and pushed her off his lap and onto the ground, where she lay glaring up at him in surprise. "You're not too brilliant yourself," he taunted with a smirk.

With a mischievous smile and an attack cry, she launched herself at him, pushing him to the forest floor with her hands on his shoulders. He blinked in surprise before letting out his own, albeit much more cultured, battle cry and launching his counterattack. For several gloriously childish minutes they wrestled around on the ground as if they were ten years younger before Draco successfully pinned her to the ground.

"Ha!" he cried victoriously, as she struggled valiantly beneath him.

"Let me up so I can clobber you properly, Malfoy!" she growled, trying to free her arms so she could shove him off.

He leaned in close to her glaring face before whispering smugly, "Not a chance, Weasley." Her glare weakened as she noticed his proximity and he could see a blush beginning to form across her cheeks. Noticing how close he was himself, he blinked several times before pulling away hurriedly before he did something else he knew he would regret later.

He stood up and dusted himself off, making sure to keep his back to her. "We should get some rest while we can," he stated matter-of-factly. "It sounds like we'll be able to get to the river hopefully by tomorrow...or today," he amended, glancing at the rising sun.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, nodding in surprise at his sudden change in demeanor. "Okay," she muttered cautiously.

"I'll watch first," he offered, his back turned to her so she wouldn't be able to read him. "You get some rest."

"Er, thanks," she answered after a pause. He heard her settling herself as comfortably as she could on the ground, but didn't allow himself to relax until he heard her steady, rhythmic breathing signifying that she was indeed asleep.

Glancing around to make sure she wasn't faking, he breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her curled into a tight ball at the base of a tree, her hair spread across the roots, obviously fast asleep. Gazing at her steadily, he contemplated why he didn't feel angry with her for failing to retrieve the wands, or annoyed at her pathetic crying outburst, or even awkward after the strange kiss they had shared earlier. In fact, the only things he had felt toward her since he had most recently been woken up were concern and protectiveness, two feelings he would've sworn a week ago weren't within his emotional capabilities.

As he looked thoughtfully at her, she murmured something in her sleep, tucking her head deeper into her arm and smiling slightly. Without warning, he felt the same strange pang in his chest as before and put a hand to his heart in surprise. It was almost like his heart was expanding in his chest, too full to be confined by his ribcage. But too full of what? Rubbing his chest absentmindedly, he decided he didn't want to know the answer to that, especially since she seemed to be able to evoke these feelings in him just by smiling in her sleep.

Grimly turning away from her, he decided that he would have to keep his distance from her tomorrow if he didn't want his life to get far too complicated when they returned to Hogwarts, especially with the already overwhelming life complications the Dark Lord was placing on his family.

Sighing resignedly but with a new determination to keep her away from the utter mess that his life was sure to become this school year, he returned to watching the eerie forest, trying his best to stay awake and alert. Barely a few minutes had passed by when he caught himself nearly falling asleep on his feet, his head nodding against his chest. Shaking himself slightly, he planted his feet firmly on the ground and watched the surrounding forest intently. Unfortunately, there was little to pay attention to except the soft chatter of birds and the warm rays of sleep-inducing sunlight playing through the gnarled trees.

Several minutes later found him trying to catch himself before he almost fell over after falling asleep again. Cursing and flailing in a rather undignified manner, he managed to right himself at the last moment. Deciding that it would be better just to go to sleep, he stumbled over to Weasley and plopped down ungracefully next to her. He checked the trees one last time to make sure that they wouldn't be attacked in their sleep, but it seemed that most of the dangerous creatures of the forest preferred to avoid daylight.

Sighing in utter exhaustion and defeat, he rolled onto his side facing away from Weasley. Right before he fell asleep, he realized how close she was to his back—he could feel her soft breathing against his thin shirt—and remembered his determination to keep as far away from her as possible. In his exhaustion, he dismissed the nagging thought and slipped into the beckoning confines of sleep, comforted by the soft sunlight and her presence at his back.