N/A: One might think that the constant presence of 'grey', 'ashen' in this story refers to Draco and his eyes. Obviously, this is true and purposeful, mainly because he is the main character alongside Ginny; but it goes beyond that. The idea of grey fits almost all the characters in the story, all with their light and dark facets, evident and implied. And that goes for Ginny too; I hardly like Ginnys who are perfect, untouchable, who don't make mistakes. The Ginny in this story, on the contrary, has her dark side and, what is more important, also screws things up and makes decisions that are at least questionable, morally speaking. This is what we will begin to see in this chapter.
12 – Poking the Dragon
"Ma'am, you need to rest! You haven't done that for almost three days in a row..." Flynn waved his hand to draw Ginny's attention. "Look around, things are in order now. The new employee and I can take turns preparing the ingredients to replace the stolen potions." He stopped by the door of the office where Ginny paced, doing math, cataloging the damage she had suffered and occupying her mind.
"I'm going to rest, Flynn. As soon as we're done here." She assured him finally looking at the young man, a tired smile in her face. "Has James gone home yet?"
Since the robbery of her potions, James had not been in the shop after late afternoon; Ginny was torturing herself for leaving him, but she still needed to take a deeper inventory of how much the bastards had stolen from her, although, of course, she was already sure of the main thing that had been robbed from her that night: the prototype of peace that she had created for herself and her son.
Now she was ready to get it back, no matter what.
She was aware they had taken samples of the fortified Erumpent Draught she had made to the Resistance and almost all her remaining inventory, but it was no use being apprehensive right now; she could allege the stronger potion had been acquired from a supplier abroad so she could study its behavior and try to reproduce it. To the Ministry, of course.
It was a flimsy and bad excuse, but in the worst case, she would buy some time before she could get out of England, although she had a feeling she would not have to recur to that extreme course of action.
If her plan worked out...
"Yes. Della came here to take him home. He looked a lot more excited, if you ask me." Flynn replied as helpful as ever. "I've promised I'll take him for a broom ride tomorrow."
Not for the first time, Ginny felt affection and consideration for the lad, forgetting for a moment the world around her and her problems with the Ministry.
Flynn had been her support during that horrible time and she had not bothered to thank him yet. It was as if he were another brother of hers.
As if I didn't already have enough brothers, she thought acidly.
Pushing away the ironic thoughts, she walked over to him, taking his hand lightly. Then she moved closer and gave him a gentle kiss on his cheek.
"Thanks for everything, Flynn." Ginny sighed and patted her assistant's hand affectionately.
Flynn had eyes like saucers as if a global catastrophe had just happened. He had never seen Mrs. Ginevra give him any freedom or come close to him like that - or close to any other man, as far as he knew.
The young man opened and closed his mouth several times before trying to stammer an answer, but when he found his voice, it was no longer necessary: another voice, much more sarcastic, manifested from the door.
"I hope I'm not disturbing anything." Draco Malfoy was leaning against the doorframe, looking at the scene with a raised eyebrow and a hint of humor in his pointed, aristocratic face. "One of your employees took me here. He said you would see me, but if you're... busy, I shall come back another time." He looked suggestively from Ginny to Flynn and then back again to Ginny, smirking slightly.
Ginny felt blush spread over her face. Who did he think he was to make that kind of suggestion?
The bloke in which you rubbed up your arse on a few days ago, said the inconvenient little voice inside her head.
Ignoring Malfoy's poisonous innuendo and her unwanted thoughts, she took a deep breath. She would need all the cold blood she could muster to deal with what was to come.
"Hello, Mr. Malfoy." She forced a smile on her face, knowing it would look more like a grimace. "Stay, please. It's precisely with you I'd like to speak to."
He glanced at her with growing curiosity, with no trace of the rare humor of seconds ago.
Do I have your attention now, ferret?
Good.
"Flynn, can you take care of the shop, please? I'm going to the Potion Room with Mr. Malfoy. Surely he'll be more comfortable there."
"Y-yes, ma'am." Flynn hurried away, trying to hide his face completely flushed, without even looking back, and Ginny could not help wondering how many girlfriends her young friend had ever had.
Malfoy, for his part, had not even bothered to notice the lad's presence after his ironic comment. He remained in an observant silence for a few moments, before speaking one more time.
"You don't look well." He looked carefully at her, at her tired appearance, as if he realised something was off with her, but he still seemed unfazed.
Not for the first time, Ginny realised that Malfoy had the annoying power to make every sentence of his sounds as though nothing were absolutely important. And, maybe, for him, nothing really was.
Thanks for noticing the blatantly obvious, you git, Ginny thought crossly. It was only your cronies who attacked me in almost every way possible.
Instinctively, Ginny looked at herself in the mirror in the nearest wall. Her hair, which she traditionally tied in a discreet ponytail, was loose and fell down to the middle of her back; it seemed redder due to the pallor of her face.
She could not resist the urge of putting a lock of hair behind her ear and felt that Malfoy's gaze had followed her gesture.
Weird.
She was wearing her old jeans and a simple shirt, which she had not bothered to change when leaving her house.
Very muggle clothes, she made a mental note, warning herself to be more careful from now on.
"It's only your impression, Mr. Malfoy. I've already recovered from the well-planned robbery at my shop." Ginny said with venom, even though she smiled politely at him.
"Ah, that." Malfoy seemed bothered for a millisecond, but then he put on the mask of indifference he called face one more time.
"Exactly. That. The unacceptable assault on a law-abiding citizen who pays every tax and contributes with pleasure to the Ministry of Magic. But I'm sure the Ministry is going to do everything possible to arrest the men who had stolen me, right?"
Ginny was pushing her luck and was aware of it: how could Draco Malfoy, one of the heads of the Ministry and notorious Death Eater, be responsible for arresting other Death Eaters, who happened to be also Ministry employees?
Ginny was completely unprotected in this situation, unless she managed to achieve her goal.
Malfoy merely nodded slowly and followed in an intimidating silence which, Ginny had already noticed, was what he did best.
He seemed suddenly more closed by the mention of the theft and she was apprehensive: she needed him to be fully focused on her. So, she decided to take charge of the situation one more time.
"Did you come to see the preparation of the Ministry's potions? I'm afraid I don't have much to show."
"There's no problem." Malfoy assured her with an impatient gesture of his hand. "I want to see it anyway."
The two went down to her Potions Room in silence and she hurried on, aware of his eyes on her. When he thought she was not paying attention, there was a spark of curiosity in those eyes that were now particularly bluish.
And she had to chided herself mentally for thinking about the variation in his eye color at a time like this.
They let the silence fill the immense gap between them, each immersed in their own thoughts. Ginny tried to concentrate on preparing the potion for him to supervise, but she could not help the tension that ran through her body; his physical presence was overwhelming, even though most of the time he just moved his eyes, scrutinizing.
She was brewing a Sleeping Draught in the cauldron when she made her decision.
It was now or never.
Subdue or be subdued.
"Do you know who I really am?" She asked looking up at him, as if to say, 'Have you seen the weather outside?', while absently mixing the potion.
The only answer she got was more silence and a stare so penetrating that she thought it would be tattooed on her forehead if she looked at him any longer.
So many moments passed before Draco Malfoy opened his mouth that Ginny thought she would never get an answer from him: she was already beginning to think about other approaches when he finally spoke up.
"My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford." He said quietly, fixing his gaze on hers without showing any feeling.
In turn, he had responded her as if he were saying 'Yes, it's cloudy'.
Considering the distant semblant he displayed, Ginny was fully convinced Malfoy had spoken that same phrase before and he was remembering it, a memory from a point in his past.
Her eyes widened, not hiding her surprise. Had he always known, then? She hoped that the surprise at the revelation of her true identity might have some bearing on the decision he would have to make soon enough, but she now realised it would not be possible.
One point to Malfoy. One from Ginny.
Bloody hell!
To make matters even worse, the mention of Lucius Malfoy brought her an unpleasant feeling. The resemblance between father and son was really incredible. Draco had grown up to be as dark as his father, maybe even more so; he had somehow managed to become more taciturn, more threatening, because Lucius, as far as Ginny remembered, was more the type who liked to brag, to have the spotlight.
While Draco... She did not know what else to think of the younger Malfoy.
In fact, Ginny realised the point was exactly that: at school, she was not afraid of Draco Malfoy; he was just a stupid spoiled brat, who talked a lot and acted little. That had begun to change in her fifth year - his sixth year - with the incident of Dumbledore's death. And now, so many years later, she was faced with a grown man, different and... emotionless. As if the cold was able to leave his interior and radiate into the atmosphere around him.
And she was about to play a very dangerous game with him. She swallowed hard.
"Why haven't you arrested me, tattled on me or handed me over to You-Know-Who?" She asked, her voice weak and still shaken.
Although the possibility of him knowing about her identity was not improbable, she was not counting on his previous knowledge and that had destabilised her.
"To be honest, I cannot see the benefits I would get from this. Prestige, perhaps." Malfoy shrugged before adding in a somewhat smug voice. "But I already have enough prestige for me and my family. I see no other reason, for now. The Dark Lord wants the heads of the Resistance, which doesn't seem to be your case, so far…" He let the sentence die as if he were still not entirely sure of her association with the Resistance, but had a very good guess that such contact was actually taking place.
"You could've done it out of revenge... for your father." Ginny commented softly and chided herself mentally in the sequence. She was giving reasons for Malfoy to report her, but curiosity had always been one of her biggest weaknesses. She held her breath, waiting for his reaction.
His eyes suddenly darkened, taking on that hue that Ginny knew could not mean a good thing.
"I happened to be there when my father was murdered, Weasley. I saw who killed him. And if I wasn't sure that buffoon Longbottom is also dead now, I wouldn't be here talking to you. I would be chasing him, for this revenge that you well reminded me of." He uncrossed his arms, walking towards the door - a sign that he was ending that conversation. "But like everything else in life, I shall continue to feel the bitter taste of not having killed the arsehole with my bare hands. Now there's nothing else that matters to me."
He turned to go, but decided to throw one last sentence over his shoulder, changing the subject.
"By the way, since we finally laid our cards on the table, I'm still watching you, Weasley. No potions for the cronies you call family." He nodded his head in farewell - he had already said everything he needed.
Ginny had not.
She was lost in thought when she said in a low voice. "And your mother?"
He stopped midway, still with his back to her, looking like he had been struck by a lightning.
"What about my mother?" He drawled, turning slowly.
"You said that there's nothing else that you care about. Does this also apply to your mother?"
His face had an expression he had exhibited frequently back at Hogwarts. One that clearly said 'why does it matter to you?'. Then he expressed with words what was already written on his face.
"I fail to see why it would be any concern of yours." His voice remained empty, although Ginny could have sworn there was a different timbre when he answered her. "Motherhood gave you a bleeding heart, Weasley. Worried about the relationship between mothers and their children?" His tone was pure sarcasm this time.
Ginny's heart sped up - even more. Did he know about James? What else did that bastard know and had not said? She had always been so discreet about her life...
The logical deduction came to her immediately: The Ministry!
She almost pinched herself for the slip. If he were investigating her - as he probably was - he would obviously know about James. Not for the first time, she found Draco Malfoy to be a dangerous opponent: he was the only person who knew fully about her past and her present activities.
She lifted her head and refrained the discouragement at being discovered; she would join the game and wipe that snobbish expression off his face.
Ginny sighed resolutely before answering. "It's true that motherhood has changed me, Malfoy. I stopped being a convinced idealist and I accepted that, many times, we need to willingly sacrifice our ethical values in the name of those we love. You're going to understand that soon enough, I suppose." She left the sentence in the air and he raised an eyebrow in suspicion, but maintained his defensive silence.
Ginny ignored him and methodically began to organise her utensils, taking her sweet time to organise her ideas as well. She knew he was watching her, and this time, his scrutiny did not bother her. It was even better because the tension dissipated from her body and managed to hit him; somehow, it made her feel like they were even.
A few minutes passed before she opened her mouth again.
"For a long time in my life I thought you were a spoiled and insensitive arsehole because of your parents." She nodded smoothly in his direction.
Malfoy's eyes widened, clearly surprised.
How long had it been since someone had offended him that way? She guessed he had lost the habit of hearing certain offenses over the years, as he gradually restored his family's name.
"But then I found out you weren't heartless. You couldn't be, not after Harry told me about what happened at the Astronomy Tower when Dumbledore died, after you helped me in the Battle of Hogwarts and after you spared my brother's life." Malfoy was suddenly tense at the memory. Those were days they both wanted to forget, she was sure. "And I also found out that the fact you were a twat wasn't due to your parents. Well, at least, it wasn't due to your mom."
"And what the hell do you know about my mother and me?" He was speaking quietly and there were no changes in his voice tone, but Ginny could notice he was restless now. "I'm starting to lose my patience with you, Weasley."
"I know she's an incredible woman and she helped Harry Potter. It's a pity I've only recently learned about this."
He was livid, even paler - if that was possible - and Ginny did not know if it was due to the pronunciation of Harry's name or the revelation about his mother's betrayal. He strode up to her and took her arm firmly, holding her in place with some force.
"I've never regretted something as much as I'm now regretting not having handed you and your little bastard over to the Dark Lord. But you will no longer have the chance to open that traitorous mouth of yours to spread lies about my mother, do you hear me?" He said through his teeth, shaking her to emphasize his point, and she tried to pull away without success.
Ginny had to lift her head to look at him, and she did not back away, her brown eyes as warlike as the silver ones. The place where he pressed on her right arm started to go numb, but now there was no turning back.
She should go ahead, no matter what.
Since meeting Malfoy again, she had never seen him lose control like that; he had not screamed, it was true, but Ginny wished he had. She knew how to deal with screams and explosions, but she was not sure how to deal with the cold anger emanating from that man.
"It seems that it's not just my mouth that is traitorous here. And you know it's not a lie! Otherwise, you wouldn't have confined your own mother to St. Mungo's, all this time... No, you did it because you're afraid she'll let slip that she saved Harry Potter to get into Hogwarts for you! That she helped him come up with a plan to defeat You-Know-Who for you!"
She stopped, the tension running thick between them and the hand that gripped her arm became firmer.
"You should be proud." She said the last sentence with evident sarcasm. She could also play his game.
In the next instant his wand had appeared in his pale hand and was pointing at Ginny's neck. She resigned herself to being still; she could not take her own wand out of her pocket without being hexed - or worse. Besides, she knew this was a battle that would be won with words, not with wands and spells.
"In fact, what I should do is make you swallow each lying word. And maybe that's what I'll do... After taking you to the Ministry." He said without letting her go and she really was a little afraid of the threat because, somehow, she knew he had not done it lightly.
"No, you won't." Ginny tried to sound as cold as she could, even though she was boiling inside. "When they – my allies- see me leaving here dragged by you, or disappearing after your visit, they'll let a certain package with precious information arrive directly to You-Know-Who. Or to any other person who can make good use of it." She bluffed.
"Merlin, you're bluffing!" He guessed right, but Ginny remained unmoved. "I'm not going to fall for this little game of yours, Weasley. I shall take you from here and I shall never have to look at your face again." Malfoy said with sharp contempt.
He buried his wand a bit in Ginny's neck and did not seem to care how the tip of the object hurt her freckled neck.
Ginny swallowed hard, but continued with a challenge in her voice. "Try your luck, then. If I fall, you fall with me. Or rather, if I fall, your mother falls with me. So, I repeat my question, Malfoy: how much do you care about your mother?" She asked focusing on his face and not letting her fear show at all.
Suddenly, she realised he was hesitating and that gave her more strength.
"You have nothing concrete to accuse my mother of," Malfoy said arrogantly, but without the same assurance as before. "It's your word against mine. Your position as a blood traitor and muggle-lover against my services to the Dark Lord's cause."
"I have something more than concrete." Ginny said with a sparkle of triumph in her eyes. "I have memories."
Suddenly, Malfoy lowered his wand and let her go abruptly, as if the contact with her skin offended him. Moving restlessly, he ran a hand through his hair, in such a way that it seemed he was looking for a quick solution to kill Ginny without leaving a trace. He looked somewhere over her shoulder, lost in his own thoughts.
"Whose memories are these?" Malfoy asked her without making eye contact.
"Harry's." It was a simple answer, but, strangely, it made Ginny a little uncomfortable.
Draco snorted loudly. "Even after death, Scarhead manages to make my life a fucking misery." He grumbled more to himself than to her.
He distanced himself from Ginny and rested his arms on the table where she was preparing the ingredients, staring very closely at a peacock feather on the surface. "How much do you want for it? You know, money was never an issue for me."
Ginny noticed a tone of arrogance in his voice that irritated her. Would he be so stupid to think she would do it for money?
Yes, he would, said the familiar little voice inside Ginny's head.
"Money isn't an issue for me either. The atmosphere that you Death Eaters impose on society is very positive for my business." She crossed her arms over her chest, relieved to be able to move freely. "My vault at Gringotts is doing quite well, thank you very much."
Malfoy was curious. Curious and angry. Ginny could easily deduce what was going on in his head: How dare a Weasley refuse my money? What kind of useless blackmailer was she?
Malfoy only spoke again after a minute, which seemed eternal.
"So, what do you want from me, Weasley?" He demanded still looking at the table in front of him and Ginny almost shouted triumphantly.
It was the admission of his defeat. Ginny felt the taste of victory - and it was bitter.
She was going to get what she wanted.
Ginny was silent for a while and he looked away from the table to fix his eyes on her face. He looked really tense. His mouth was compressed as if he were waiting for a punch; the metallic tone in his eyes was resigned. She knew he wanted to get over with it once for all.
And suddenly, she wanted it as badly as him.
"I want influence. I want protection. I want safety."
She stopped, giving him time to assimilate her words, before she played her final card.
"I want your name." When saying the last sentence, however, she could not help the blush that spread across her face.
Malfoy's countenance changed several times in a very short time. Annoyance turned into wariness, then into confusion, and finally, when he really understood what Ginny had implied, his face showed only a profound horror.
I want your name.
I want a marriage.
Ginny had imagined that scene so differently. She would be in a beautiful garden, with her red hair blowing in the wind; she would have a flower attached to it and would wear a charming dress - not her old muggle jeans. She would be overjoyed with the belief that her marriage would be based on love and that she would be happy.
And, the main difference, she would be looking at emerald green eyes and not at storm-colored ones - which was certainly a bad omen.
Eyes that, at that very moment, were like saucers.
Malfoy stared at her as though he were seeing a ghost. Or rather, he had seen ghosts - and even had built a friendship with some of them - and had never made that face. He looked at her as if she said he was an adopted son and was born in the Muggle suburb of London. He just could not believe what he had heard.
"You can't be serious, Weasley! Never in your wildest dreams would I marry you!" He said hastily for the first time, his voice slightly squeaky, and leaned on the table as though the world had turned upside down.
Ginny grunted in response. "I don't want this any more than you do, Malfoy. I'm just doing what it takes to protect my son."
"You've gone completely insane, more like. I would never taint my family's name with..." He stopped, seeming to think of a series of insults. When none were good enough, he gave up waving a dismissive hand "...with someone like you!"
Ginny, for her part, got angrier by the disgusted expression on his face. Was the idea of marrying her such a horrible one?
Hiding her displeasure at his rejection, Ginny shrugged casually. "So, I suppose I'll have to look for protection elsewhere, with the Resistance, maybe... They would be very happy to have access to those memories." She looked at him innocently, sweetly. "You know, you've been a real pain in the arse to them…"
Draco took a deep breath, as if asking for help from the Universe to refrain strangling Ginny's neck.
"You have my word that what happened at your store will never happen again, you'll not be attacked in any way." Draco promised solemnly. "Also, I shall not allow them to investigate your life in depth, as long as you stop providing potions for the Resistance."
"I can't believe how self-centered you are! You're in no position to negotiate." Ginny declared cruelly. "Beggars can't be choosers."
"I'm giving you my bloody word." Draco hissed through clenched teeth.
"And since when is your word a reliable one?" Ginny almost pouted while answering him. She had already gone too far to give up so easily.
It would be what she wanted or nothing.
"If so, why do you think I'm going to fulfill this ludicrous deal, whatever it is?" Draco was exasperated, running his hands over his platinum strands, which insisted on falling over his eyes.
"Because I want a formal marriage contract. I need it, actually. It's not enough if you just protect me under the table: people must know your name shields me. No one will dare to do anything against the wife of the Ministry's main department head." Ginny said firmly and almost thought Malfoy would faint, but she went on bravely. "And also, because I want an Unbreakable Vow."
Malfoy looked more shocked now, as if he were about to bolt through the door at any moment and forget that conversation had even existed. He took a deep breath to control his emotions before responding.
"And what do you want me to swear with an Unbreakable Vow? Eternal love?" He drawled the sarcastic words and raised a desperate eyebrow at her.
"I want you to swear you're going to protect my son's life against You-Know-Who." Ginny revealed with her eyes down, suddenly embarrassed.
Draco could not even move when the realisation hit him like a hurricane: For the first time, he understood the size of the problem. For the first time, Draco Malfoy understood that he was going to be part of Ginny Weasley's life.
His mind was being devastated with a whirlwind of ideas.
It was no longer a clash between Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy, it had crossed that realm at that point. That filthy beggar was afraid of Voldemort and of what her son represented!
He chided himself mentally for not having anticipated this situation. It was obvious that sooner or later she would face the consequences of having conceived Scarhead's brat - if she had not already faced it at some point.
Now it seemed quite clear to him why she had abandoned that herd of rabbits she called family: she was afraid of what the boy meant for the Resistance and for Voldemort.
And now she's sharing this child's risk with me! Draco felt like he was about to explode.
He wanted to hex her, destroy that fucking shop, flee from England, but he simply stared at her, trying to show nothing of what he was feeling.
It was not fair he should be obliged to share the problems created by a couple minutes of pleasure between the Scarhead and the Ginger Vixen! He was disgusted.
And angry. Very angry.
She was exposing Draco to a very dangerous situation. Swearing to protect the boy's life against Voldemort at the expense of Draco's own life meant that he should act against everything he had built in the past six years: He had fought to give his mother a dignified life after his father had died, to retrieve the Black and Malfoy's names to where they never should have left.
He had tortured and endured torture, he had killed and narrowly escaped his own death, he had been a loyal servant of the Dark Lord. He had learned not to fail, because each failure brought his mother closer to an (more) unhappy existence. He had learned to do everything he was told, without question. He had learned to give orders without being questioned.
Through the fear he had felt as a teenager, he had mastered how to take advantage of other's fears. He had failed to kill Dumbledore one day at the Astronomy Tower, yes, but that was his last strategic error. Since then, he had grown up to be the best. And when he could not be, he manipulated to get the best one out of his way.
He had moved up: among the Death Eaters, no one remembered the Malfoys' mistakes - at least not in front of him. He had entered the inner circle of the Dark Lord's Death Eaters and it had given him more political influence.
It was the least he could do for his mother: be successful and raise their family's status one more time.
And now he was going to lose everything, because he would have to marry the Female Weasley and would become a traitor.
Betrayal. The word sounded bitter in his mind; not because he had any stupid idealistic sense, but because he was very comfortable in this life he had built; he had a lot of money, prestige, his pride was rebuilt.
Allying himself with her meant to protect the Resistance! Yes, because he knew she would not stop helping her family and he could not do a fucking thing against her.
She was only asking for the Unbreakable Vow for her son, it was true, but he could not get rid of his future wife without arousing suspicion.
And if someone started to investigate the case a bit more, just out of curiosity, it would be the end of him. They would find out who she was and, most importantly, who her son was.
And the brat killed by the Dark Lord's hands would mean a very dead Draco Malfoy, once he had made the vow.
How could he - Head of the Aurors and one of the most favored Death Eaters by Voldemort-, indirectly protect the Resistance and stay alive to tell the story? He almost found the situation amusing, if he did not feel like torturing every muscle of hers.
He had the urge to laugh mockingly at her face and drag her by the stupid red hair to the Dark Lord, with her son in tow. But he remembered his mother, fragile, confused, sad. Hurt his mother was the only thing he had not learned in the process of nullifying all feelings that could harm him, in the process of becoming indifferent to everything.
He could not even be bothered by the fact that it was the memories of his mother's actions that were putting him in this situation.
Draco could only think it was Ginny Weasley's fault, the blackmailing viper.
His mind worked frantically.
There was nothing he could do but to give in. And the humiliation it brought was so poignant that Draco thought he would suffocate.
However, if it was going to be a truly hell for him, it would be no different for her.
And he could make and Unbreakable Vow to ensure that too.
"You will get everything you want." He finally said and Ginny almost sighed with relief, leaning against her potion-making table. "Come to Malfoy Manor tomorrow afternoon to settle the contract details and do what must be done. You will deal with a person I trust. He will make all the necessary arrangements and see to it that my interests are protected."
Ginny was already opening her mouth to protest about other people's involvement in her secret, when he silenced her with an impatient gesture of his hand.
"Worry not, Weasley. I've understood the overall idea quite well. Exposing you and your son means exposing my mother and me." He said impatiently and she nodded. "This person will know how to be discreet."
Ginny felt a mixture of a thousand feelings and none of them were pleasant.
She knew that what she was demanding of him would put a stone in what remained of humanity in Malfoy and she felt worse when remembered she he had tried to help him, more than once. But it was necessary.
It was necessary.
She would repeat this as a mantra, until she accepted the idea as true. She pushed out of her head the image her parents, siblings and friends would make of her. The image she would make of herself.
She shut up the little inner voice saying she belonged beside the good guys, that she should have never reached such low extremes. Blackmail, manipulation. For the first time, Ginny felt dirty.
"There are a million shades of grey..." she murmured quietly to herself, distracted by the implications of what she had just done.
When she came back to reality again, Draco Malfoy was in front of her, just inches away, and did not seem to have heard her last statement. He was staring at her and Ginny could clearly identify the feeling that emanated throughout his body: pure hatred.
She resisted the urge to look away from him: she should learn to live with it now. It was her fair share.
Malfoy took off his gloves very slowly and put them in his trousers pocket. Ginny was mesmerized by the movements: she did not remember seeing him without gloves since they met, and that scene unfolding in front of her was strangely private.
His hand was still as pale - or more - as the rest, and the long fingers of his right hand were busy rolling up the left sleeve of his black shirt methodically.
Then, it was the turn of his right sleeve. With each movement of his hands, he moved a little closer; Ginny was petrified and was already beginning to feel a latent terror. What did he mean by that? Warn Voldemort?
She tried very hard not to look at the terrible dark mark tattooed irretrievably on his left arm, but it was so exposed that Ginny felt a morbid fascination like the one that made people turn their heads to see someone who had suffered a broom accident.
She retreated until her body bumped into the table behind her and he, in turn, was only far away enough as she would have no trouble breathing. He placed an uncovered arm on either side of her body, preventing any attempt to escape - which she would not try anyway, given that her legs would not obey her after the mental weariness caused by the battle of wills she had just won.
"What the bloody hell are you doing, Malfoy?" She managed to muster up the courage to say after a moment. And she had to thank the universe as her voice did not tremble.
Malfoy had stepped dangerously close to her, his nose level with the top of her head. His voice was deceptively low, the dangerous purr of an angry dragon directed straight into her ear.
"I just want you to comprehend the hell you entered on your own volition." With a nod of his head, he pointed his arms around her and Ginny felt blond hairs brushing against her face. "If you try to escape by one side, you'll find me. If you try to escape by the other one," This time he pointed directly at his left arm, which contained the dark mark. "you'll find the Dark Lord."
She held her breath and he waited a few more moments, as if he were feeding on the tension she knew her body was emanating.
"I truly hope you'll enjoy the experience. I certainly shall enjoy it." He ended up with a sarcastic smile and stared at her, with that same almost insane look that had disturbed her years ago.
And then, with a nod that could be considered polite if it were not loaded with irony, he turned and left.
Ginny only relaxed when she was sure she was alone, exhaling a ragged breath. She ran her hands over her face, as if she could cleanse herself from his presence, from her own decisions and from every bad prospect that this agreement between them brought. Avoiding tears, she slid to the floor and hugged her knees, still shaken by Malfoy's presence so close to her and by the scenario he had exposed.
Supporting her head in her arms in an instinctively protective gesture, Ginny was certain her life would never be the same.
N/A2: Please, consider leaving your thoughts. Always remember that feedback is always welcome and very much appreciated. That's it what motivates the author to write and continue striving to finish the stories.