Author: Tiny Q
E-Mail: one_legged_lesbain_seagull at hotmail dot com
A/N: There's a bit of smut near the beginning... just so you know.
Disclaimer: I claim nothing to be my own, other than this ever so slightly original plot.
Somewhere I Belong
Chapter 11
Get Up
Soundtrack: "Get Up" by Wiretree
—O—
Ginny slowly became aware that it was bright out, and she was far warmer than she was used to being. Someone was also running their fingers through her hair, skimming along her scalp, and it was all just very relaxing. She snuggled deeper under the covers, and in turn rubbed her face against the chest her face was pressed up against.
There was a soft noise of approval, and she tilted her head up and smiled at him. Draco smiled softly back and she felt her heart thud forcefully against her chest. His whole face lit up when he did that, and in the sunlight it was breathtaking.
"Hi," she said.
"Hi, back," he replied, his eyes wandering across her face. "I've never realized how many freckles you have until just now." His hand drifted over the bridge of her nose, and she attempted to move her bunk arm to swat him away. But it only made it half way there before the pain made it drop.
"How is it feeling?" His warm fingers gently moved over her shoulder, deft and decisive like they always were in the hospital.
"It hurts if I do that," she said, smiling wryly at him as his fingers moved to her ribs, gently probing the tender area. She never wanted to injure her ribs again. She had bruised them a few years ago and they had taken a while to heal. Smashed in ribs, even with the help of magic, seemed to take forever. "But it's better than it was."
He nodded, his hand drifting from her ribs down her side, to her hip. His fingers rubbed over her protruding bone, his thumb curling into the divot it created. Ginny felt a thrill go through her.
"How are you doing?" she asked, her eyes fixed on his hand. "Not that I'm complaining, but why did you come? What's wrong?"
"Nothing," he replied, dipping his head and pressing kisses along the side of her neck, his grip on her hip increasing. She closed her eyes and leant more firmly into the arm she was using as a pillow, pressing her face against his chest.
Surprise and desire thrummed through her, wondering at his sudden boldness. Last night he had been so careful to not do anything more than hold her. This, this was something new. And it was terribly exciting.
And it was all because he didn't want her asking about what had upset him. Damned Slytherin.
"You're trying to distract me," she said, a small moan escaping her lips as he found a sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. He paused and kissed it again, dragging his teeth over it lightly. Another little moan slipped up her throat.
"True story," he replied, pausing for only a moment before returning to what he had been doing.
Her breath caught, and she was dimly aware that she was pressing herself against him. She felt him smirk against her skin as he continued to worry the spot, his hand drifting down her thigh, before coming back up, dragging his blunted nails lightly across the fabric of the trousers she was still wearing.
"Draco," she said, trying to inject some seriousness into her voice.
"Ginevra," he drawled, not bothering to look up.
His hand left her hip, coming up and pressing gently on her bad shoulder until she had her back against the mattress. He moved his head down, pressing kisses across her collarbone then further down.
He reached the neck of her top, and slid his tongue under it, along the swell of her breast. Desire jolted through her, even as it clicked in her mind, with startling clarity, that he had never been this forward before. That he had always held himself back before this. That he never allowed himself this. And the fact that he was now said more than any words could have: he was upset. So upset that he wasn't able or didn't want to keep himself back how he usually would. Didn't want to
She opened her mouth, ready to object, but gasped instead as his hand had slid down, yanking her top down, and then her breast was in his mouth, his tongue swirling around her rapidly hardening nipple. His hand slid down and cupped her other breast.
All she had to do was shut up. All she had to do was not ask any more questions and who knew where this would go. She felt a shiver run through her, centring in her middle. She could just lay there and be surrounded by his scent, his warmth, the feel of his moist mouth against her skin. And allow him to distract her from what he obviously didn't want to discuss, and which she knew she should probably know about.
He gently dragged his teeth along her skin, and she pressed her head back into her pillow, squeezing her eyes shut.
A little whimper slipped up her throat, but she managed to tug her left arm free and find the top of his shoulder. She gripped it, trying to persuade herself to push, even as his tongue did something amazing as it swirled. Her legs were wrapped around his, and she was vaguely aware of her hips pressing desperately against his. She could just…
But not like this. Not when it was just instinct and not intent.
"Draco," she finally managed, hating herself a little bit, as she pushed at his shoulder. "Please tell me what's wrong."
He froze, and she felt a pang of guilt go through. She shifted her hand to the side of his head, running her fingers through his hair, and his shoulders slumped.
He pulled his mouth away from her skin, his breath ragged, making her shiver once more. Then his hand was tugging her top back into place, smoothing across the neckline as though to seal her in. He then pressed his forehead down onto her sternum.
"Sorry," he finally said, his voice detached and neutral.
After a long moment he pulled back and looked down on her, his mask firmly in place, though his hand tentatively pushing her hair away from her face belied any calm he actually had. She felt her stomach tighten in fear, but was distracted as he rolled off of her and stared up at the ceiling.
"Draco," she said again, more uncertain than she had been before. "What happened?"
"Nothing," he said finally. "Nothing really, at least. I just wanted to be with you." Ginny continued to stare at him, refusing to back down. He glanced at her then sighed, his expression softening ever so slightly. "I just had a bad night." He looked away.
"Because of something specific happening?" she asked. "Or just a bad day?"
He just shrugged in response, his face not giving away anything as he stared up at the ceiling. She knew he wasn't really looking at it, lost in his thoughts. He shifted beside her, pulling the duvet back up over their shoulders. His fingers absently rubbed along her side.
"It's nothing, Gin," he said finally, looking for all intents and purposes like there really was nothing wrong. Ginny watched him, debating her options.
She opened her mouth again, but closed it when she heard the fireplace leap to life. Orton meowed in greeting a moment later, and Ginny struggled to sit up, glancing around. If it was Ron again…
"Miss Weaszy!" a familiar squeaky voice called. "Are you up yet?"
Relief flooded her system. It was just Pagsy.
"I didn't realize it was that late," Ginny said, as she moved to get out of bed. After a brief pause, Draco's hands were on her, helping her. She glanced over with a small smile, but he only stared blankly back at her.
"Yes, just a second!" she called distractedly, finally on her feet. She took her housecoat, and grabbed a change of clothes, then hurried to the door. Ginny glanced over her shoulder as she reached the doorway. Draco was sitting up with his back towards her, his muscles shifting delectably as he raised his arms over his head and stretched. Bloody hell, why was she always surprised by how attractive he was?
Spinning back about, she hurried through, closing the door just enough to give him privacy.
"Hi, Pagsy," she said, smiling warmly at the little elf, as she walked into the living room. "How are you this morning?"
"I am good, thank you, Miss Weazey," she replied, smiling happily. "It's a beautiful sunny day," she continued, gesturing towards the window. "And I have the afternoon off to enjoy it."
Ginny smiled genuinely. Hermione and her small horde of activists had been having a lot of success lately. She had never thought about it much before, but it was good to see, on the flip side.
A little while later she was waving at the elf as she climbed into the fireplace, wishing her a good day.
"You as well, Miss!" And with that, Ginny was alone in the room. She stood there for a moment, feeling her smile fade. It might be a beautiful day outside, but she wasn't convinced it was going to prove to be a good day.
The sounds of cooking were drifting out of the kitchen, and she took a deep breath and headed towards it, wondering what she was going to find.
She stood at the threshold and felt a little smile tug at her lips. Draco was cracking eggs into a mixing bowl, his shirtsleeves rolled up, showing off his toned arms, as well as his scars. She was glad that he felt comfortable enough around her to show them off. She knew from Luna that it wasn't something he did lightly.
Her eyes travelled to his chest, where his vest and jacket were again missing, having been replaced with her least frilly apron.
"That's a good look for you, Malfoy," she said, walking into the room.
He glanced up at her and grimaced, his hands still moving.
"There wasn't much of a selection," he said. "I might have to remedy that."
"I'll just have my mum put more ruffles on," she said, climbing up onto the island stool. "She put all the others on for me."
"You requested theses?" he asked, looking down in disgust, halting his methodical movements. "And here I thought they were simply all you could afford."
Ginny rolled her eyes, even as a little twinge went through her. Since when was her wealth on the table?
"I'm an international Quidditch celebrity now," she replied indifferently. "You'd be surprised by what I could afford."
And it was true. She had more money than she ever dreamed she could have, though it was very rare that she sort any of it. It was all being carefully tucked away, or invested, so that no matter what happens, she would be okay. This accident, if nothing else, reinforced the need for such practices. She was just lucky that it was in her contract to still e on the payroll while injured. It also made her wonder for how much longer she could actually play the game before her health was detrimentally affected.
Draco looked up at her blankly, then his cheeks pinked.
"Sorry," he said, his hands resuming their mixing. "That was uncalled for."
Ginny shrugged, watching him.
"Draco…" she finally said. "What—"
The fireplace leaping to life once more cut her off again. They both turned to see Luna walking into the kitchen a few moments later, a few items in her hand.
"Oh good, I was right," she said, moving towards them. "I was hoping you would be here, Draco."
Ginny glanced over at Draco, but his face was again neutral, his knuckles white as he held the whisk in his hand. She looked back to Luna, trying to see by appearance if she could tell what was going on.
Luna glanced around, not offering her any clue. "There are no owls here," she said.
"My place is unplottable," Ginny said promptly. "All my fan-mail is getting redirected to the office. Only family owls can find me."
She watched as her friend nodded, distractedly putting a tray of brownies down onto the counter. The cellophane was cloudy, indicating that she had recently pulled them from the oven, not bothering to let them cool properly before she came here.
"Are you okay?" Luna asked, looking intently at Draco.
"Why wouldn't he be okay?" Ginny demanded. "What happened?"
"Nothing," he replied.
Luna held out the paper she was holding.
Ginny gasped, covering her mouth, looking at Draco. He stared at the paper, his mouth thinning, but he didn't look surprised.
"You knew?" she demanded.
He nodded his head. "Chief Willoughby called me back in while I was having lunch with my mother. Apparently, he had been approached by a journalist. The hospital was trying to keep it out of the paper, but obviously, they failed."
"How—how can you be so calm about this?" Ginny demanded, feeling anything but.
"It was bound to get out eventually," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. Ginny watched, noticing that his movements were just a bit too controlled. Inside he was panicking, she could feel it. One glance at Luna told her that the other woman knew it too.
"The responses aren't all bad," Luna said, gesturing towards the paper. "I think people are more surprised than anything. And the hospital really is trying to put this in your favour."
Draco nodded, but didn't comment.
"They can't make you stop," Ginny said, with a lurch in her stomach. "They can't. You're the only one—"
"My research is all documented," he said bluntly, cutting her off. "Anyone can pick it up and continue it, if they wanted."
"They can't," Ginny said again, looking desperately towards Luna, who just shook her head.
"I'm a Malfoy," Draco said, bitterness leeching into his voice. "They can do whatever they want."
"No," Ginny said firmly. Something was resolving itself within her, and she leant into it, relieved to finally feel something familiar in all of this. Something other than that gnawing fear she was constantly trying to ignore. "They can't." She got to her feet and strode out to the hall, putting on her shoes.
"Where are you going?" Draco asked as she grabbed her keys, suddenly at her side, his hand on her arm. Luna was in the kitchen doorway watching, her eyes wider than usual.
"To pull a few strings," she said, shrugging out of his grip. She strode over to the fireplace, throwing some Floo powder and calling out her destination. Without hesitating, she climbed into the green flames, not turning towards either of them, even as she heard Draco call her name, worry in his voice.
Ginny climbed out of the grate, glancing around the main foyer of the Ministry, before turning her focus to the entrance gates. She strode over there, ignoring everyone she walked past, almost forgetting to smile at the clerk sitting behind the desk.
"Miss Weasley," he said, smiling at her. "So good to see you. How can we help you today?"
"I've come to see my father," she said shortly, holding out her wand to him.
"Hmm," the man said, glancing down on something. "It looks like he's quite busy, so you might end up having to wait a while." As he said this he weighed her wand before handing it back to her with a smile. "Though there is a note to notifying him if any of you come by. I'll send him up a memo right now."
"Thank you," Ginny said, her smile genuine as he allowed her to walk past security to the elevators.
The doors to one opened and a few people got out. A mother and daughter, as well as an older witch, were still on board. Ignoring them as well, Ginny stepped on, turning her back on the remaining passengers. She looked up at the dial, finally paying attention to the way her heart was slamming against her chest.
"Mum, it's Ginny Weasley," the little girl said excitedly. Ginny smiled slightly, happy for the distraction, keeping her eyes forward.
Sometimes she forgot that she was famous—not because of her father, or her family name, or her brothers, or her ex-husband, or what she did during the war, but because of what she did for a living now. To her, Quidditch had always just been the dream: to play and get paid for doing it. Everything else was just part of the package and as such, it wasn't something she had actively wanted.
The doors opened and the mother and daughter got off, the girl looking over her shoulder, waving at her. Ginny smiled and waved back. The doors slid shut, and the elevator went down one more floor, the doors opening once again, and Ginny felt a thrill go through her chest as they revealed Percy.
He was looking down on a scroll and absently glanced up as he stepped onto the elevator. He did a double take, his glasses slipping down his nose as he did so.
"Ginny!" he exclaimed, hastily rolling up his scroll and giving her an awkward one armed hug. "What are you doing here?" He glanced around. "How did you get here?"
"I need to see Dad," Ginny said, a nervous flutter going up her stomach, which she blamed on the elevator resuming its course.
"Oh, Dad's really busy," Percy said as he stepped back into the space beside her. "I just had to run out and grab food for him." He held up a takeout bag. "He didn't even have time for a proper lunch."
Percy and her father had been going for a weekly lunch since shortly after the war. It had been their agreement, after Fred's funeral, to try and mend what was left of their relationship. Ginny knew that it had been uncomfortable for both of them for quite a while, but after a few months they got better, and had never broken the habit. It made her happy to see her father and brother getting along again. When Percy had left the family it had been… terrible.
Percy no longer worked for their father but in the Department of Policy and Law. His goal was to try and create a system that couldn't be taken advantage of as Fudge, and inevitably Tom, had done. They wouldn't let him have direct access to anything though, because of his history, but much of what he helped create, once thoroughly screened, had been implemented. Which seemed to be enough for him.
"You really have a thing for stirring up drama, don't you Gin," Percy said with a sigh.
"Really?" she asked, arching her eyebrow. "You want to talk to me about drama?"
"I got it out of my system when I was younger," he said with a sniff, though his lip twitched ever so slightly. "You, on the other hand, haven't been out of the papers since you married Harry."
"Not my fault people find me fascinating," Ginny said indifferently.
"Scandalous is more like," Percy muttered.
"Oi," she said sharply. "What other people think of me is none of my business, and neither is it yours. I'm a good person. They're just too busy writing trash that they can't see it."
They lulled into silence, her brother shifting nervously beside her. A moment later the elevator arrived at their floor. The doors opened to reveal a bustling hallway, and they entered the fray, heading towards the middle of the building.
"Just say what you're going to say, Perc," Ginny said with a sigh as they walked around people. "Get it out. Tell me all about how you disapprove of Draco."
"I don't," he said shortly.
"You don't?" Ginny asked in surprise, eyebrows raised.
"Well, he's a git and I don't see what there is to like," Percy continued, and Ginny started to scowl. "He was such a foul child, you can't deny that.
"But I know you well enough to know that you would never put up with anyone who didn't treat you properly. And he hasn't imperiused you, or got you under a love spell, so there must be something there that I don't see, which is fine by me."
"What do you mean he hasn't impiriused me or given me something?" Ginny sputtered.
"I checked."
"You what?"
"I checked," he repeated. "When Bill first mentioned Malfoy was at your flat." He shrugged, an oddly self-depreciating look on his face. "I still get paranoid sometimes. Old habits are hard to break."
"Perc…" she said, feeling herself soften, even though she still felt oddly exposed. She put her hand on his arm and smiled at him sadly.
"But," Percy said a bit louder, trying to cover how uncomfortable he was, as usual. "I'm not sure if this is the best time to be galavanting about the place on Malfoy's arm."
"Because of his research? Or because of how they tried to frame him?"
"Because of his father," Percy said, shaking his head. "Everything else is probably helping Draco; though I doubt Dark Rising sees it that way. In trying to taint his image they're really just making him look more sympathetic to the rest of us."
Ginny nodded, her own suspicions confirmed. It was like they were trying to ruin him, and they would be, if he had been the Malfoy of before: associating him with Weasleys and Muggles. But that wasn't who he was anymore.
"Wait, what do you mean about his father?"
"You know," Percy said as he led her up to their father's office door. "About—"
The door opened, and for a moment all three Weasleys looked at each other, startled.
"Gin!" her father exclaimed finally, pulling her into a hug. "I've been expecting you."
Ginny leant into her father, taking half a moment to enjoy the comfort he offered her.
"Can you give us a moment, Percy?" Arthur asked as he pulled back from Ginny, keeping a hand on her shoulder.
"Sure," Percy said, settling himself down on one of the plush chairs. He pulled a book and his glasses from his robes and proceeded to ignore them. Ginny felt a grin tug at her lips. Some things just never changed.
"Come on in, Ginbug," her father said, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and leading her inside. "How are you doing?"
"I'm doing okay," she said, glancing around at the utter chaos around them. "Are you okay?"
Her father glanced over at her as he walked around his desk. He then glanced around the office and sighed, his shoulders dropping.
"I've had better weeks," he said, smiling tiredly. "I think I'm ready for a vacation." He sat down heavily in his chair, then frowned and glanced around.
"Did you come here with someone?" he asked. "Percy didn't pick you up, did he?"
"Huh? No, we met on the elevator."
"How did you get here, then?"
"I used the Floo," she said, her heart thudding against her chest as she realized what she'd done. She hadn't even thought about it… she'd just acted—for Draco. She had risked further injury for him without a second thought. Panic brushed up against her, but she shoved it aside, focusing on her father.
"I thought you weren't supposed to," he said slowly, an odd look on his face.
"I can," she lied, guilt flaring inside her, but she brushed it aside. She could deal with all of this later; there were more important issues at hand. "Dad, you can't stop Draco from doing his research."
"I wasn't going to."
"He isn't—you're not?"
"No," her father replied, an odd expression on his face. "Why would you think I would?"
"Because he's a Malfoy," she said plainly. "And you said all those things to me a couple of weeks ago?"
"Those comments still stand," Arthur said seriously. "But I already knew about what he was working on. And I have no desire to stop him, even if his alias has been revealed."
"You knew?" she asked dumbly.
"Of course," he replied. "I was the Muggle Artifacts Liaison after the war, remember? Chief Willoughby came and talked to me when Draco first had something to release to the public. I've been keeping an eye on the project ever since."
"Then what's going to happen?"
"Nothing, hopefully," her father said, shifting a few items on the surface of his desk. "The Ministry has already sent out an official statement in support of Draco's work. We're asking that people consider it with an open mind based on the work itself, not their issues with who created it."
"You did? For Draco?"
"For the people his work is helping."
Ginny stared at him. Of course it hadn't been for Draco. No, at this point Draco was only a tool for the greater good. And as long as he kept doing good then he could keep living the life he had. He could play good guy, even though no one beyond herself of Luna, believed it to be true. Then something else occurred to her.
"So you already knew he wasn't just a former Death Eater when we spoke," she said, feeling a curious mixture of disbelief and confusion. And anger.
"I did," Arthur replied, nodding his head. "It doesn't change his past. But his work shouldn't be condoned because of what he did."
"Then why were you trying to scare me off?" she demanded. This wasn't making any sense to her.
"Because, Ginny," her father began, leaning back into his chair. "Loving him is never going to be easy. The man isn't whole anymore."
Ginny stared at him. "So what? I don't see how loving Draco is any different from loving Harry." She was vaguely aware that the word they were using had never been spoken aloud by either her or Draco. Was that what this was? Was that what she was feeling? It was much different from what she had felt for Harry, but given where that relationship had ended up, that didn't indicate much.
"Except that Harry came out on the right side of the war." Her father's flat statement jarred her back to the matter at hand.
"And Draco denounced his side and has been trying to make up for what he did."
Her father sighed, taking his glasses off and rubbing at his eyes. Then he put them back on and stared at her.
"I just want things to be easy for you," he said finally. "Having a life with someone like Draco Malfoy is never going to be easy. You've been through so much in your life already. I just want you to find someone that will make things better for you, not worse."
"I don't want easy, Dad," she said, shaking her head. "That's not to say that I wouldn't complain if I found a nice and easy relationship and felt the same way. But I'm not scared of having to fight for what I want and for what makes me happy."
"And Draco makes you happy?" he asked her wearily.
Ginny nodded her head. "Very much so." The warmth she felt flowing through her as she said it confirmed her words, startling her.
Arthur observed her silently, and if she didn't know better, she would say that her father could read exactly what she was feeling. Maybe he just knew her that well. Or she was just that transparent.
"I don't like it, Ginny," he said at last, and she felt like someone has kicked her in the chest. She had thought, once her feelings were more clear, that everything would just… sort itself out. Was his family name all he saw? What more could Draco possibly do?
"You don't have to," Ginny said shortly, getting to her feet.
"You know that his father's getting out of prison in a couple of weeks, don't you Gin?" Arthur asked, putting his glasses back on and eyeing her as she stood frozen in front of his desk.
"What?"
"Lucius Malfoy's ten years in Azkaban are almost up," her father explained. "He's being released on the 27th. It's been in the paper a few times now."
"No," she said, not sure if she was responding to her father's question or the whole concept in general. "I didn't know. I don't read the paper."
Arthur nodded, though he didn't say anything. Ginny could already think of what was going through his head. Her boyfriend, of which he still didn't know was official (but she suspected he already knew) hadn't told her his villainous father was being let out of prison.
"He's already been cleared to return to Malfoy Manor," her father continued. Where Draco will never go, Ginny thought grimly. "Between that and what's been happening with his son, you now included, the press are having a field day."
"You're worried that my association with Draco will connect you to Lucius," Ginny said flatly, not sure if she could believe it.
"No, I'm worried about you getting caught up in the drama that always follows after the Malfoys and being hurt again," her father said, shaking his head, his blue eyes locking with hers. "Whatever the Dark Rising has planned, you being close to Draco is just going to make you a target again."
"I was a target before we even had a relationship," Ginny replied automatically, her stomach lurching at her father's surprised expression. Well, that had come out in the trial, hadn't it? "Hang on, did Dark Rising have something to do with ruining Draco's alias?"
Her father stared at her steadily, then nodded his head once.
"Why?"
"We have no idea," her father said, looking tired again. Ginny clenched her good hand at her side, at a loss for words.
A short while later, Ginny took her leave of her father, giving Percy a quick hug on her way out. She felt drained. All she wanted to do was go home and crawl into bed. As she walked out the Minister's offices it occurred to her that she should have asked one of them to Apparate her home. She shouldn't chance the Floo again. She hesitantly turned back towards the door.
"Miss Weasley!" someone shouted, causing Ginny to freeze.
She slowly turned to see a group of reporters, armed with Quick Quote Quills and cameras, hurrying towards her. Her stomach lurched. Taking a hurried step back towards the office door, she glanced back at them. She couldn't deal with this right now. She just wanted to go home.
"Ginny!" a delightfully familiar voice called from the opposite end of the hall. "There you are!"
Ginny turned, relief flooding through her, as Hermione bustled towards her, a scowl on her face. A moment later the other woman was standing between her and the reporters, who had come to a stop, eyeing the other witch cautiously.
"Ms Weasley's not making any statements at this time," Hermione told them briskly. "And if I remember correctly, your permits don't allow you near the Minister's office. Get out of here before I see to it that your licenses are revoked."
The reporters glanced from Hermione to each other, then hurried away down the hall. Ginny watched their retreating backs, feeling another wave of relief. Which was quickly followed by a wave of fatigue.
"Thanks, Hermione," Ginny said tiredly, pushing some wispy hair out of her eyes. "I hate when they do that to me."
"I know," Hermione said with a smile. "Are you here with someone?"
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?" Ginny snapped. Her friend raised an eyebrow, and Ginny felt another stab of guilt. Damnit all, she just wanted to go home. "Sorry," she muttered. "No, I'm here by myself."
The other witch nodded, but instead of commenting asked: "Are you headed home?"
"Yes," Ginny said quickly. "I mean, that's where I want to go. But I forgot to plan how to make it happen before I came here."
"I'll take you," Hermione replied pleasantly, gesturing down the hallway. "I was actually just going to come to your flat anyway," she said as they headed towards the elevators on the opposite side of the building from the reporters. "See how you were holding up." She hesitated. "And to see if there was anything I could do to help Draco."
Ginny looked at her dumbstruck. "Really?"
Again Hermione nodded. "Well, I have been working with him for the past few years."
"But you didn't know it was him," Ginny pointed out, then frowned at Hermione's expression. "Right?"
"I had my suspicions," the other witch said with a shrug. "Their mannerisms were very similar."
"What?" Ginny demanded. "And you kept working with him?"
"I didn't see any harm in it," Hermione said slowly, glancing at the elevator that stood open for them before they both got on. The doors clanged shut and it lurched into motion, taking them down towards the employee Apparation Point. "And he wasn't being cruel. Besides, I appreciated what he was trying to do with his work. And though it was a bit of a cliche—you know, asking the Muggle-born about Muggles—it was rather flattering all the same."
Ginny stared at her friend, once again finding herself reevaluating her. Sometimes she felt like Hermione was just too perceptive for her own good. Or anyone else's good, for that matter.
"Did Ron and Harry know?"
"Are you kidding me?" Hermione asked with a laugh. "You know how those two are."
Ginny sighed. At least she wasn't the last to find out, like usual.
"Are you upset with me?" Ginny asked sheepishly.
"About what?"
"My relationship with Draco?"
"No," Hermione said with a shrug. "Took me a moment, but you've always been attracted to intelligent and powerful men."
Ginny stared at her, realizing with a start that Hermione was very right. First, there had been Harry, and then, though she was loath to admit it, Tom. Michael and Dean hadn't been interesting enough to hold her attention, nor had any other bloke in the space between Harry and now, until Draco. What did that say about her? Furthermore, was it the power each of them possessed that had attracted her to them, or their darkness? Her father had been correct, neither man was "whole." And Tom certainly hadn't been either.
The elevator came to a stop, distracting her, and both women got off, walking the short distance to the Apparation Point. Hermione offered her her hand as she drew her wand. Ginny took it firmly, trying to smile. Moments later she felt the world compress and re-inflate, until she was standing in the alley by her flat. She shivered as the wind moved through her sweater. Hermione eyed her attire but didn't comment. At least she had thought to put on shoes.
"He was always right behind you in school," Ginny said, trying to shake the odd feeling the revelation had left in her chest. A hollowness that she wasn't sure how to fill, or if it even could be filled.
"And imagine how much that must have stuck in his craw," Hermione said, grinning back at her as they made their way quickly out of the alley. Then she hesitated, the smile fading. "But doesn't that bother you? His past, his views? They're so contrary to your family. To you."
"Didn't that bother you while working with him?" Ginny countered, glancing down at the steps as they walked up.
Hermione shrugged after a moment, accepting the keys Ginny held out to her. "I don't know if that's ever not going to be between us, to be honest," she said, unlocking and pulling the door open for them both. "But I'm not dating him."
"We're not"—Ginny cut off at Hermione's arched brows. "Not for very long at least," she said quietly.
"Of course," Hermione replied casually. They walked through the empty lobby to the elevator, the silence of its motions almost startling after the loud banging of the Ministry's equipment. "But really, Ginny, doesn't it bother you?"
"He's not that different from me," Ginny said, glancing away, his profile on Halloween flashing through her mind. "Not anymore. He's really changed. He actually never stops surprising me with how much." She smiled tiredly at her friend. "If you could see how much his past pains him, you'd never ask me that."
"You really like him, don't you?" Hermione asked quietly.
"I—yah," Ginny said, giving up. It was true, after all. She wouldn't be dating him if she didn't. The elevator door opened, and they made their way quietly down the hallway. Hermione flipped through the keys and unlocked the door to her flat.
"Your brother's never going to get used to it," Hermione said with an odd quirk to her mouth, pulling the door open for her. They walked in, and as Hermione closed the door behind them Ginny felt even more tension ease out of her shoulders.
"That's nothing new," Ginny said, smiling back as she slipped off her shoes. "I think he'd still prefer for me to not be a girl, let alone one with a sex life."
Hermione snorted, shrugging out of her coat and unzipping her boots. "He's essentially told me just that. Harry was safe, but beyond that I think he would be happiest if you were locked in a tower somewhere."
"Sometimes I think Ron just needs a—" Ginny cut off abruptly as she walked into the living room. Draco was laying on his stomach, his face pressed into the cushions, fast asleep.
"You didn't know he was going to be here?" Hermione whispered at her side.
Ginny shook her head. "I left him and Luna here, but I thought he would just… go home or something…"
"Hmm," Hermione said. "Well, it will save me a trip once he wakes up." With that she left Ginny, pausing to scratch Orton, who was happily limping towards them, on the head before going into the kitchen.
Ginny stood there, listening to the sounds of her friend making tea, her cat meowing happily at her, eyes locked on her boyfriend (that was still so weird to say). The events of the last few hours swirled through her mind, and she felt the disconcerting urge to both laugh and cry. Though wasn't sure if it was for sadness, joy, or fear; or some odd mix of all three.
—O—
Draco awoke with a start, the sound of voices in his flat sending adrenaline through his veins. He stared blindly ahead, trying to figure out why he couldn't see anything other than floral. He didn't own anything floral…
With another burst of panic he realized that he wasn't in his bed. He wasn't even in his own flat. Then it clicked in his head: he was still at Ginny's, apparently having passed out on her chesterfield while waiting for her to come home. When would he feel alert again? It felt like his weeks working at the hospital had drained everything away. And now the chances of him getting everything he had back…
Shifting his focus away from the ache in his chest, he listened to the hushed voices. He could hear Ginny, her even tone lower than he was used to, but still instantly recognizable. But he couldn't identify the second voice offhand. It was familiar, but it wasn't Luna.
He heard his name spoken, and even though he couldn't make out what else they were saying, he felt suddenly alert.
But then, he knew why they were talking about him. He figured a lot of people were talking about him. He hadn't had the courage to go home and check his mail, let alone to see what his mother had to say about all of this. No, he had just hidden here like the coward he was.
Groaning quietly he rolled over onto his back, his forearm draped across his forehead, and stared up at the ceiling. He didn't want to move. He couldn't move. Movement would make everything real again, would offer the world another opportunity to strike at him. Maybe if he just lay still everything would pass him by and he could carry on with his life without a single worry.
"—really have to be going," the second voice said, suddenly closer. "I—oh!"
Draco's eyes shot up to the kitchen entrance and felt as though someone had kicked him in the chest, winding him. Granger stood there, looking as startled as he felt. Her eyes darted from his forearm to his face then back again, and Draco's stomach gave a terrible lurch before he hurriedly got to his feet and tugged his sleeves down.
"Granger," he said, impressed with how calm his voice sounded, though he could feel his damned cheeks heating up. He absently ran a hand through his hair.
"Malfoy," she replied, glancing to her right as Ginny stepped up beside her, who had a worried look flitting across her face. The redhead's eyes locked with his and she smiled, and despite all sanity, he felt the coils in his stomach relax slightly.
The three of them stood there, awkwardness thick in the air, and as Draco looked between the two women, he couldn't help but compare them. How one was so light and the other so dark, yet both seemed to radiate something warm and bright that he couldn't describe, but felt compelled towards either way. And always had.
"Sorry, I hadn't meant to fall asleep," he blurted, the silence becoming too much for him.
"From the sounds of it you needed it," Granger said, finally breaking the immobility of all three of them. She walked towards the front hall. Both Draco and Ginny watched as she gathered her boots and coat, putting both on in the hall.
"I mentioned to Ginny a few things that we can do," she said as she walked back into the room.
"Do?" he asked like an idiot. He glanced at Ginny but she just nodded her head before looking to Granger, who had stopped near the cat tower, scratching the damned cat's head.
"About your alias," the other woman replied patiently. "I had meant to speak to you as well, but I have to go get Rose and Hugo." She glanced at Ginny, then turned to face him properly before taking two steps towards him. "If you're interested I'm happy to help, no strings attached."
Draco blinked and stared at her. Finally, he nodded his head, not trusting himself to say anything that would either accept or deny her help.
She stared at him, with that same damned calculating look she had always given him in school. It was odd to see again when he had become so used to her looking at him with kindness. When she had known him as Julian Gates, she had always seemed like the woman he had heard about all through school and afterwards: the intelligent, compassionate, kind, and sometimes terrifying witch that she was. When she looked at him now, he still saw the thing to be terrified of, as he always had in school, but that was all. No wonder he had always felt so miserable around her in school.
"I wouldn't have been upset," she told him finally. "About helping you."
Again Draco nodded, internally bracing himself for what came next. The yelling and accusations for having tricked her. For having manipulated her into helping him because he had thought she would never have agreed—had been convinced that she would never agree. So he had never given her the opportunity to prove him wrong. His pulse picked up, and he struggled to keep his breath even.
"And I'll still be your soundboard, if you need someone to bounce ideas off of," she continued, smiling slightly. The change in her expression startled him, and it was almost like he was Julian all over again. But this time she was looking at the real him, at Draco Malfoy, the boy who had called her derogative things for much of his youth, despite how amazing she was.
She stuck her hand out, and Draco stared at it dumbly before finally reaching out and taking it carefully in his. Her grip startled him, but he quirked his lip up and returned it.
"That would be appreciated," he managed, again impressed with how normal he sounded. "For the couple days I'll have left to work on it."
"I think you'll have more time than that," Granger said, giving him a half smile before gesturing towards Ginny.
Draco turned to look at his girlfriend and watched as her cheeks pinked.
"Have a good night," Granger said, and a moment later there was a whoosh of flames, and when he glanced over, the witch was gone.
"Hi," Ginny said, glancing at the fireplace as well.
"Hi, back," Draco replied, frowning, observing her still pink cheeks. "What did Granger mean? What did you do?"
"I went and talked to my father," she told him. "But he'd already made a statement to the public about your alias."
"He did?" Draco asked cautiously.
Ginny nodded her head. "He's requesting that people support your work. You have the Ministry behind you."
There was an odd buzzing in his head.
"Hermione thinks we should hold a press conference," Ginny continued. "Give you a chance to give your side of the story. Luna's dad's agreed to publishing an interview as well. And I don't think it will be too hard to get the Prophet speaking well of you either, with Hermione on your side."
"I…" Draco said, the world tilting oddly under his feet.
He sat down on the couch, blinking as he stared across the room. Was this actually his life right now? The Weasleys and Granger, not to mention the Ministry, coming to his defence? Even Luna's nutjob of a father? All of them who hated him, and rightly so? All while he was dating Ginny Weasley? After everything he had done? After all the people he had hurt? It didn't make sense. It wouldn't click in his brain.
Ginny sat down beside him, reaching out and taking hold of his hand. He looked down on it, only increasing his grip when she squeezed.
"Are you alright?" she asked him softly.
He nodded, looking up, his eyes skimming over every freckle on her skin for a second time that day. The little round dots that seemed to cluster and then disperse, then cluster again at random. A thousand little splotches of colour, over and over, tumbling across her, marking her, declaring her as a creature of the sun. Someone who couldn't be kept or cloistered indoors.
Her grip on his hand increased, but she didn't say anything, just sat there with him. And, not for the first time, he realized how much he appreciated that. How much he appreciated her. Loved her—Merlin, that was still so weird to think.
A buzzer went off in the kitchen, and they both jumped. He frowned, but she just smiled reassuringly, getting to her feet.
"I'll be right back," she said, stepping away and slowly letting go of his hand.
He nodded, watching her walk away, but again didn't feel the gumption to move.
After a time, the damned cat hopped up beside him. He looked up at him then purred, rubbing his head against his knee. Draco jerked in surprise, looking down at the creature, who offered him a short meow before again rubbing his face.
"Have you gone crazy as well?" he asked the cat. This time the cat only purred in response.
With a furtive glance towards to kitchen, Draco reached out and touched the damned thing. It was the first time he ever had, he realized, and he was surprised by how soft and warm he was. And how clean he felt. For some reason, he had thought he would feel grimy, and it made him wonder whose cat had put that thought into his head.
Orton continued to purr, standing up straight on his one back leg as Draco ran his hand over and over his back, petting his tail as well before starting over again. It was oddly cathartic: the purring, the softness, having something respond to him in a positive way. Was this why people had cats?
A loud banging startled him back into the present, and he stopped, shaking his hand a bit to get rid of the fur clinging to his hand.
"Not a word," he said firmly as he got to his feet. "Not a damned word."
"Did you say something?" Ginny called.
"Nope," Draco replied, heading into the kitchen.
She glanced over her shoulder from where she stood at the stove as he walked in.
"You're not trying to cook, are you?" he asked, watching as she manoeuvred a ladle around a large pot on the stove. There were two soup bowls sitting on the counter beside her.
"No," she said, sticking her tongue out at him. "Hermione made us some soup while we were talking."
"Is she a decent cook?" Draco asked bluntly, cringing internally afterwards. The woman had just offered to help him, after all.
"Is there anything Hermione isn't good at?" Ginny asked, shaking her head, an odd little smile on her lips. She lifted up the ladle, shaking it a bit to stop it from dripping, but not quite managing it. "Other than flying, that is."
"Granger's not good on a broom?"
"She's miserable at it," Ginny confided in him, grinning as he stepped up to her, waiting for her to give him the ladle. But she kept it, splashing bits of soup everywhere as she went. "There's a pool going over which parent the kids are going to take after in that regard."
He snorted. "Maybe they'll take after their aunt," he said, flipping her braid over her shoulder and turning away. "Tea?"
"Please," she replied, and he went about getting the kettle ready while she began to shuffle the bowls over to the island.
As they both moved about the kitchen, brushing up against each other as they went, he was stunned by how normal it felt to do so. How easily he could get used to having her in his space, or, as things currently stood, being in her space. It would be so easy to just get used to her. To get used to being around her. There was a tightness in his chest as he thought this, and
"Draco, why didn't you tell me about your father?" she asked him suddenly.
He froze, a glass of water in his hand. Well, really, it had only been a matter of time before she found out. He was actually surprised that she hadn't already, though apparently her refusal to engage with the media was much more pervasive than he had given her credit for.
"I don't know," he said truthfully. "I guess telling you made it real."
"And you don't want it to be real?"
"Of course not," he snapped over the sound of breaking glass.
"Draco!"
Pain laced his hand, and he looked down at it dumbly. A mixture of blood and water was dripping to the floor.
"I'm sorry, Gin," he said. Suddenly active, he took out his wand and waved it, cleaning up the mess, until only his hand was left.
He glanced up at her, only to find an expression of apprehension and surprise on her face. Shame flooded through him and he ducked his head, waving his wand absently at his hand, distractedly cleaning it and stitching it shut.
"I'm sorry," he said again, staring at his hand. "I just… I don't want to think about it. It gets me out of sorts."
"What are you going to do once he's out?" she asked quietly, suddenly in front of him. He jerked his head up in surprise. She took his hand in hers, gently rubbing her thumb across his raw skin. Her face was pensive now, but he couldn't shake the memory from his mind. He had scared her. He'd scared her. All because of his fucking father. The man wasn't even out of prison yet, and somehow the man was already messing with his life.
"I don't know," Draco said, his voice sounding hollow even to himself. "I wish he was dead."
"It'll be okay," she whispered, as though the words couldn't be spoken too loudly without scaring the possibility away.
He looked at her, knowing his face was completely blank. As blank as he felt, despite the aching in the centre of his chest.
Ginny smiled at him tightly, wrapping her arm around his waist, and pressing the side of her face against his chest. He stared at her for a moment, his heart beating painfully, then wrapped his arms around her, lowering his head until his forehead was pressed against the side of her neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath of lavender scented hair, and tried desperately to believe that it really would be. That everything actually could be okay, even though he knew—just knew—that it wouldn't be.
—O—
A/N: Doop doop. Just a bit of angst, and a dash of smut. Next chapter, the art show! And a surprise! Or maybe two…?
