18 – The Reality is the Worst Prison
The morning was barely over and Ginny had already walked over every space of her cubicle, tried to reach the window protection bars climbing the wall, knocked the door relentlessly and screamed at the top of her lungs, but everything she accomplished was get an aching body, hurt her fingers, and lose her voice painfully.
She was seriously considering herself a failure as a hostage: she was sure that by the end of the day she would be naming the stones in her cell. On the first day of captivity!
Snorting angrily, she cursed her impatience e impulsiveness for the fiftieth time only that morning. All those reactions had gotten her was displeasure, imprisonment and a rather intense kiss… Ginny shook her head vigorously: she was not going to think about that now.
Better yet, she would never think about it again. Ginny slammed the mattress with her fist to give her resolution more credibility.
Focus, Ginny.
I need to get out of here and make sure James is okay.
Sure, he was safe with Della, but they must have been very worried about her absence.
She was about to start another screaming session contained threats, impolite demands e words that would make her parents flush with embarrassment, when she noticed the door opening slightly, revealing a small, red nose.
"Ma'am, I ask you to remain on the bed and don't approach the door, so I can enter the room." A young woman's voice was heard through the half-open door. "I brought your food."
Ginny mentally drew up an action plan as fast as she could. She would do as the stranger had asked and would take advantage of any breach in order to immobilize the girl. Even though Ginny was not too big, she had years of experience in wrestling thanks to her considerably bigger brothers.
Then, she remained sweetly seated on the bed and spoke in the most natural voice she could muster.
"You may come in. I'm already sitting on the bed."
Ginny almost smiled when the young woman revealed herself to be a skinny woman in her early twenties, with dull blond hair barely hidden under a suspiciously old bonnet.
It would be so easy.
The girl placed a tray with food and pumpkin juice on top of the old chest. Ginny, in turn, watched every girl's movement, trying to find weaknesses, vulnerabilities, a wand.
How good it would be if I had a wand there! Ginny almost sighed at the thought.
Her reactions must have been quite evident as the girl gave a sad smile before speaking.
"If I were you, I wouldn't do that. I don't have a wand, true enough, but I have something else to protect myself with." She said while opening her frayed robe, where a switchblade and knife were nestled, looking dangerously sharp. "You wouldn't be the first one to try to take advantage of the fact that I'm an unprotected girl, in theory." She completed, leaving the food and collecting the tray to leave.
Ginny felt a sudden wave of discouragement and disarmed her bellicose stance from earlier moments. However, if she could not beat the girl and get out of there, at least she could have a couple of words and get some useful information.
The first thing that came to her mind was the situation of the girl herself - and as was typical for Ginny, the thought passed from her mind directly to her mouth without any major obstacles.
"Why don't you have a wand?"
The expression of resigned sadness returned to the girl's face.
"Because I'm a Squib." It was the simple, objective and, in a way, cruel response.
Why the hell are Squibs serving wizards? Ginny thought frowning.
If someone told Ginny she could feel worse that day, she would not have believed. But there she was, feeling like a gnome being ruthlessly threw over The Burrow's backyard hedge.
One more time, the girl interpreted her expression correctly.
"Don't worry." The girl said trying to sound nonchalant. "It's better to serve here than to be sent to Regeneration Sites."
Ginny knew these were the places where Muggle-borns, Half-bloods, Squibs and every other undesirable were sent to, when there was no minimally plausible reason for them to be confined in Azkaban.
"I'm so sorry..." was all Ginny managed to express; she was particularly shaken in that moment to say anything very different.
The prospect of bringing another child into that cruel and prejudiced world made her almost sick.
"It's not your fault, I guess." She shrugged, getting ready to leave again. "It's a job like any other. And if a house-elf can do it, why not a person?"
Ginny involuntarily sympathized with the girl more and more and, with another question, she interrupted her leaving again. "Where are the elves?"
The younger woman wrinkled her nose in a gesture of annoyance.
"They're becoming so much rare to find, practically extinct. The new fun for the Death Eaters is to train spells on the elves, when they don't have their own guinea pigs available. Most of the elves who weren't tied to any family managed to escape from England, but still, some remained in the country, and well... it wasn't a pretty thing. They deserve respect as much as any other being." She finished the last sentence very vehemently and Ginny felt a new wave of sympathy.
Ginny hugged her knees, still sitting on the bed, and was distracted by her own thoughts. She did not even realise she was mumbling words.
"You'd get along very well with Hermione." She murmured and immediately regretted her decision.
The girl looked like she had been hit by a horse; after a moment's hesitation, she approached the door and made sure it was closed.
"Which Hermione are you referring to?" The girl asked bluntly and Ginny was afraid she was going to tell her superiors - whoever they were - about Ginny's illicit relationships. "The Hermione? Protector of the elves, of the downtrodden, and of people who can't defend themselves?"
Ginny was already beginning to remember the discourse about her false Scottish roots, when realised there was no point in lying: how many witches named Hermione would be defenders of house-elves? She tried to calculate the probability of it, but gave up before being too discouraged by the answer.
It would be her word against the girl's. And she suspected that hardly anyone would stop to listen to the younger woman. For the first time, the prejudiced structure of that hateful world played in Ginny's favor.
"What if I were?" Ginny replied in a voice devoid of emotion.
"I'd find it very odd." The young woman looked at Ginny with searching eyes, as if trying to pull the truth out of the smallest bodily signs that the redhead gave away.
Ginny, for her part, remained motionless, cold. Her coexistence with Draco, after all, had served some purpose. It took a while for the girl to speak again.
"After all, who are you?" She said abruptly and continued talking, without waiting for an answer. "I was told you were the wife of a powerful man from the Ministry, who would stay here as a small punishment from her husband. I thought you were one of those society ladies, Death Eaters' wives, with their heads full of dungbombs, spending more of their husband's galleons than they should. You wouldn't be the first in this situation, really."
"Things aren't always what they seem to be." Ginny murmured, not wanting to say anything that might compromise her or reveal that she really was the wife of one of the powerful in the Ministry and, for many people - starting with her own husband - she did have dungbomb on her head.
"But if you talked about Hermione and her cause in such a... intimate way, you might be a little better than I could've imagined..." The girl left the idea in the air.
Ginny clung to hope like a castaway who clings to a piece of wood adrift in the sea.
"I'm not like the women you spoke of. I struggle hard, day after day, to protect the people I love. Hermione, even." The words came out in a torrent which if she had not been so desperate to get out of there, she would have avoided at all costs.
"How did you get here, then?" The girl looked genuinely intrigued. "If the Ministry knew about this, you'd already be in Azkaban, not in Glastonbury..."
"Listen, ah..." And Ginny realised she did not know the girl's name.
"Anne."
"Listen, Anne, that's exactly why you need to help me. The longer I stay in a place like this, the longer I'll be at risk and so will my son. He's all I have in life and I need to go back, to protect him."
"Do you have a son...?" Anne said introspectively and Ginny almost celebrated.
"I do! I have to go back to him. Please, Anne, can you help me?" She held her breath, waiting for an answer.
Anne looked very thoughtful for a long moment before answering. "If you aren't the wife of anyone important..."
Ginny's conscience was so heavy she could hardly move, but she could not stay another minute in that place and then she radically changed her approach. "And I can take you to people who can protect you. To Hermione!"
The girl's eyes widened like saucers; for the first time, she appeared to be as old as she was, just a young woman of Flynn's age.
"Seriously?! She's the most sensational witch of our time! They say her genius is limitless and she still defends causes of people like me…" Anne finished the sentence quietly, as if she were ashamed to say it out loud.
Ginny got up from the bed slowly and wrapped her arms around the girl's slender shoulders, who allowed the contact.
"Hermione is all of that and more." Ginny smiled kindly, remembering her friend. "Anne, after I'm out of here and all of this is over, I want you to go to The Leaky Cauldron in London and wait there. Tomorrow will do."
"Why?"
"It's a fair exchange: you help me to be free again and I help you to get in touch with good people who can protect you." She asserted, leaving no time for the girl to think about the possibility that Ginny's escape might carry more weight than she had implied. "Anyway, we can't be seen together and you can't be here after I'm gone. Right?"
Anne nodded thoughtfully. "I think so."
Then, Ginny had to restrain herself from jumping joyfully.
In the minutes that followed they drew up a plan to take Ginny out of there without raising immediate suspicious, designing schemes, habits Ginny needed to learn and alternatives if the main plan did not work out in the end.
"So that's it." Ginny affirmed, repassing their plan aloud to make sure Anne had memorized the details, just like she had. "We're in the cell 50, the third floor of the Glastonbury Prison, where there are only two pairs of wardens, usually bored to death guarding luxury prisoners."
"That's right." Anne nodded in agreement. "Probably you'll not be bothered because you're wearing the clothes used by the girls who work here."
Then Ginny ran her hand over the simple dress, identical to Anne's, trying to get some comfort from the gesture. The girl had gone down to pick up the clothes with the excuse she was going to bring bedding more to Ginny's liking, to keep her quiet as her husband ordered.
"Always keep your head down, don't look at their eyes, show fear. That's all these stupid Death Eaters want from people like me. If there's a problem, you're replacing a maid; they don't know our names, so you just need to be convincing in what you say."
Then, Ginny took from her neck the pendant she wore, the one her mother had given her the day she left with newborn James in her arms. Leaning forward, she placed Anne's hands in hers.
"I don't even know how to thank you, Anne. By helping me get out of here, you're saving the lives of many people who are dear to me." Anne seemed a little confused by the comment, but in the name of haste she let it pass. Ginny passed the pendant into the younger woman's hands. "When you get to the Leaky Cauldron, have it with you; they'll know that I've sent you."
"I just hope everything works out for us." Anne smiled weakly, tucking the pendant into her apron pocket. "I think you can go now and I'll be out in a bit. You only have a few minutes, remember."
With a final wave of farewell, Ginny left the room, tucking all her hair under Anne's old bonnet; she knew from experience that shade of red was an issue when discretion was needed.
She could not deny that she was shaky while passing the first pair of guards, chatting idly about Quidditch. As she passed, one of them followed her with his eyes and caught her attention, barking sharply at her.
"Why the hell didn't I see you coming in, girl?" He asked, arching a very thick eyebrow. "Are you new around here?"
Ginny gathered all the courage she had and got ready to answer, trying not to lift her nose in the air in a bellicose posture.
"I was sent to replace Laura, sir. She couldn't come today, again. I must've entered before you took up your post, sir. The prisoner in cell 55 was a lot of work today. I had to cool down her food portion by portion, remake her bed fifteen times before she thought it was good enough and listen to every one of her complaints. You can't imagine, sir, she told me that her husband has the terrible habit of-"
"Enough, enough!" He interrupted, as Anne said he would. All the guards did not have the patience to pay attention to their prisoners, however ironic it seemed.
"Where's the skinny girl who brought food for Malfoy's wench?"
Ginny controlled her tongue before answering, but she could not help a slight blush coming up her face.
"She's taking care of the other cells in the east wing. I'm going to go down to take the 55 prisoner's dirty clothes. She dropped all the food on top of the fabric, look at that." She lifted the bundle of clothing which contained only her own nightgown.
The men dismissed her with a gesture of disgust as if she were the most unimportant thing they had the displeasure to lay their eyes on that day. Ginny almost smiled.
She bravely resisted the urge to run like a madwoman; she knew the worst part was getting past the guards on the third floor: the others would be satisfied and think that every check had already been made by their cronies.
Measuring the speed of her steps, Ginny strongly wished that Anne had luck and made it out of there unscathed, going to The Leaky Cauldron.
Second floor, first floor, ground floor, everything came like a dream.
She passed through the essentially identical rooms, while the other employees moved quickly around the place, not bothering to question why Ginny was there. New people had to appear constantly because old people disappeared with incredible frequency, according to her new friend.
And before she knew it, she was at the fortified prison gate, speaking in a tired tone to an old doorman.
"My shift is over!" Ginny said trying to hide her nervousness. "I gotta go!"
"This is livin', eh!" The old man replied crossly, preparing to open the gate. "You lot don't work enough and leave early!"
"I work like an elf!" She shouted out, guessing it was the usual type of conversation with that old man. "I've been in there for hours!"
Which isn't a lie, Ginny thought bitterly.
He responded with a barely audible complaint and tapped his wand on the gate, opening it with an unpleasant bang. In the next instant, Ginny was outside Glastonbury.
Merlin, I'm out of prison!, Ginny held back the urge to do a victory dance. Suck it, Draco Malfoy!
Taking a deep breath, she felt her eyes water with relief. She needed to get to London right now, but how to Apparate without her wand?
She hurried up, but not enough to let her anxiety show, and controlled her breathing until she found the alleyway that led to the busiest street in Glastonbury, where she discarded her bundle of clothes.
Ginny had only been there once, accompanying her father and brothers on a trip to the place where King Arthur was buried, but she still remembered a few details.
In another situation, she would have loved to go through the shops one more time and visit the small town's ruins. However, that was not a normal situation: she needed to get back to London before it got dark, so that at least she could ship the potions she had already made for her brothers. Ron would fetch everything once the night arrived, to avoid unnecessary attention.
She looked up at the sky, covering her eyes from the sunlight, and came to two conclusions:
First, it was a beautiful day, despite the chilly air.
Second, it was past lunchtime.
The place now basically lived off tourism based on the most famous wizard of all time and was bustling. Ginny knew she should head to the city's most famous hill, Glastonbury Tor, which was the main point where portkeys trade could be found.
The big problem was how to get one: Ginny had no money and even if she did, all legal portkeys were controlled by the Ministry; by the time she registered one, she would have Malfoy at her heels.
Despite the involuntary feeling in her lower abdomen that had plagued her when she thought of him since that morning, seeing him was the last thing she wanted at that moment.
Ginny decided it would be best to wait there until she could carry out the other part of her plan, which basically consisted of putting on her best helpless girl face to get a free ride to London.
It was not an especially good plan, but her brother Charlie always said that when she put that expression on her face, not even Snape would refuse her a chocolate frog.
In the course of twenty minutes, she had been offered a kiss in exchange for the ride by a middle-aged wizard who ended up with a swollen toe due to Ginny's stomping; heard a proposal from a woman who wanted Ginny to register the portkey (she was probably also trying to escape from something); and had been approached by a teenager who was running away from home and wanted Ginny to pretend she was his older sister. However, Ginny's maternal instinct made her persuade the boy to come home under threats of painful noogies.
When she was already sighing resignedly at the idea that her beggar expression was not really that good, a witch about sixty years old approached her, her face wrinkled and compassionate.
"My dear child, what are you doing standing here in this cold?"
Ginny, who was actually breathless and hot from the adrenaline rush, took on angelic looks.
"I was robbed, madam!" She replied, telling herself she was not lying completely. "I came to visit the city with a friend, but now I lost the portkey we shared to London because they took my wand and all my sickles!" She sniffed to make the story more truthful.
The old lady shook her head in denial, sympathetic to Ginny's fictional problems. "We're living in terrible times, my dear! We no longer have any safety even among ourselves. Sometimes I find myself wondering if I haven't lived too long, while the good ones have died so early, like the Undesirable Number 1."
Ginny almost hugged the old lady, who despite being afraid to say Harry's name aloud, still saw him as someone who died fighting for a better world, free from Voldemort.
She did not wait for Ginny's reaction and put her arm around the redhead's, starting to guide her up the hill.
"Come on, girl, help an old lady climb this horrible hill. I'll take you to London; I'm going there to visit my daughter Janette. Mind you, she refuses to leave the city, despite the more direct domination of You-Know-Who over the region. She's so stubborn and hardheaded."
Ginny, who could not under any circumstances condemn this Janette for being stupidly close to Voldemort's influence, just kept quiet. The old lady went on, filling the silence.
"I wanted her to be close to me, but we can't always protect our kids as we want, can we?" She uttered, punctuating the sentence with sad sighs while walking slowly up the hill, using Ginny's arm as support.
"I think we can't..." Ginny nodded absently and, not quite sure why, she vented for the first time. "I'm with child. Considering all this scenario of war and revolt, I don't even know if it's wise to bring a baby into such world." She wringed her hands nervously and felt tears pressing into her eyes, having to blink so they would not fall. "I - I don't know what to do with it."
The old lady patted Ginny's hand affectionately as if she could dispel the younger woman's doubts with the gesture. "What does the baby's father think about it?"
What indeed.
"I haven't told him yet. I don't think he'd be very happy with the idea." Ginny sniffed, torn between crying over the situation and laughing at a possible parental support from Draco. "We don't get along very well, to use a mild term."
The old woman stared at her with piercing dark eyes.
"At some point, you two must have gotten along well enough to conceive this child." She said and Ginny blushed automatically.
"I swear I don't know what I was thinking when it happened-"
"I guess you weren't thinking at all."
Oh, boy.
"It doesn't matter anymore, my darling." The old lady took pity on Ginny – visibly embarrassed – showing a kind smile. "Our children are the greatest gift we can get and I'm sure that after this moment of doubt you'll love your baby more than yourself, regardless of its dad's will, the world's situation or You-Know-Who. At the first sign of life he or she gives, you'll be irremediably in love."
Ginny walked in silence, absorbing the woman's words and putting her thoughts in order. She had to admit to herself that she was terrified.
It was bad enough having to isolate James from the world, because he could not be close to his real family - given the stigma of being Harry Potter's son - and she could not truly expose the boy to society, for precisely the same reason.
And now her baby would also be segregated from her family - for being Malfoy's heir - and would be isolated from its own father, who would never accept this baby. Ginny was sure the last thing Draco wanted was a child from her.
Draco…
He was her true fear. What if he took her baby away? What if he forced her to get rid of it? Or if he mistreated the child? No, she would not allow it. At least for now, she would hide this information from him at all costs. Besides, they did not exactly live a married life. Hiding information from Draco Malfoy was almost easy.
Or so she wanted it to be.
"You can stop squeezing my hand, darling. It's almost numb." The old lady was smiling knowingly now. "Nobody will take your baby away from you." Noticing Ginny's surprised countenance, she went on soundly. "Ah, I don't need to be Legilimens to know what's going on in a mother's mind. I had four children myself."
Ginny then realised she was squeezing the fragile arm too tightly and apologized softly. In silence, they made their way to the top of the hill, where they held an old hammer brought by an employee of the portkey shop. When Ginny felt the typical sensations of using this transport, she already had in her mind the confidence she wanted this baby and nothing and no one would change her mind.
She had run away from Glastonbury, but was still trapped in her worst prison: her reality. As long as she did not stop ignoring the fact she was pregnant and would have to deal with it, she would not be free.
But not anymore.
Ginny realised since starting to suspect her pregnancy, she already knew she would have this child, regardless of Malfoy's will on the matter. And that she would love him or her the same way she loved James.
It was about time to stop running.
With her forehead resting on the desk in her office, Ginny felt utterly exhausted, hungry, with a troll's headache and every muscle in her body aching.
She had slept in that position, probably for a reasonable amount of time, because her neck – the only part of her body that was not hurting before – was deathly sore now. She had to blink to remember what had happened that day, still leaning on the desk.
She had arrived in London in mid-afternoon and thanks to some sickles offered by the kind old lady, Ginny had managed to make it to Diagon Alley, trying to walk calmly to her shop.
She only had time to remove Anne's bonnet freeing her long red hair, run upstairs to her office - scaring some employees by her strange behaviour - and send Flynn running to her house to fetch her wand, bring news of James and say to Della she had had a small mishap that morning, but that she was fine now.
And let James know that she was missing him like hell, but could not go back to their house just yet.
When Flynn came back breathless with her wand and saying that her son was fine – even though missing her – she started to work hard as she had not done in a long time. Gathering all the ingredients she had for the Resistance potions, she locked herself in her Potion Room, and filled boxes with potions for the next few hours.
Surely, they would not be as good as the potions that took days to be made, but at least her family would have something to fight for, to resist. A chill ran down her spine as she thought of how many more fights would need to be fought, what they could achieve by living like that, chased on every corner.
Through the window, she could see it was already deep into the night and Ginny wondered how long she had slept. When she heard a distinct apparition plop, she raised her head quickly, adjusting her eyes to the dimness.
"You're looking like crap!" A voice came from the dark corner of her small office and she glared at the visitor.
"You're always so sweet, Ron." Ginny said sarcastically, stretching her neck.
The red-haired man raised his wand and in a smooth gesture lit the candles and the fireplace. "Being discreet doesn't mean you have to live in the dark and cold, Ginny."
"I-" She yawned mid-sentence. "-I lost track of the time. I had a hell of a day and spent the whole afternoon making what I could of potions for you all."
Ron had the tips of his ears slightly red, which was visible even in the poorly lit room. "Ah, thank you. It'll be very useful, really. We managed to evacuate most people from the place and remove the stockpiled food. Now it's just between the Ministry and us."
"You know the Ministry is going to attack and the Ministry knows that you know." She uttered begrudgingly, still massaging her neck. "What's the point of this, anyway?"
"On our part, it's finally the chance to face the Ministry directly; no more isolated attacks, small things we've been doing the past years. Before, the Ministry tried to treat our actions as irrelevant events but now, with an attack of this magnitude, they're saying openly that we're a threat to them. And it's our chance to show we're getting stronger and stronger." His smile radiated pride and Ginny mirrored her brother's expression. "On Ministry's part, the intention is to capture or exterminate the Resistance leaders, I suppose."
Suddenly, Ginny straightened up. "What if-"
"Nothing's going to happen, Ginny." Ron interrupted her in a reassuring tone. "It's not a suicide attack, we have plans for any eventuality, George has taken care of everything. But this one won't be the last confrontation of this size; I can guarantee you."
"That's what I thought." Ginny sighed and then pointed to a corner of the room. "The potions are in those boxes. I imagine you're going to cast Hermione's Extension Charm to carry them all in your backpack."
"Yeah, I will." Ron replied enthusiastically. "That spell is awesome, isn't it?"
Ginny gave him a wicked smile. "I would say Hermione is awesome."
They were silent for a while, while he put the boxes in his backpack. "You know what, I married her two years ago."
If she had not been already sitting, Ginny would certainly have fallen down.
"Why the hell did you never tell me?!" She managed to squeak.
"Well, our relationship isn't the most comfortable one, is it? After everything that happened…" Ron said awkwardly, shrugging. "Besides, you know the less information you have, the less you expose yourself. And us too."
"So why are you telling me now?"
"Because I thought you'd be happier knowing this." Ron smiled mischievously, his blue eyes shining in the dark. "Knowing that, despite the war and everything, we still manage to have a decent life."
"You're right." She got up and went to him, hugging her brother. "I'm happier now, Ron. Very much so."
"'Thank you." Ron nodded with a shy smile and a silence fell over them again.
Then, taking advantage of the friendly atmosphere with Ron, Ginny remembered Anne.
"Ron, I need a favor from you and it's one of the utmost importance." Ginny felt her brother tense up, but she continued anyway. "Tomorrow there will be a blonde young woman at The Leaky Cauldron. She has the pendant Mom gave me the day I left with James. I met her at Glastobury Prison this morning and..."
Ron gasped audibly. "What in hell were you doing in the You-Know-Who prison this morning?"
"It's a long story." Ginny dismissed his concerns with a gesture of her hand. "You just need to know that this girl, Anne, helped me a lot today and it's because of her the potions were ready in time. Only, in helping me, she ended up getting in trouble with the Ministry. She needs to go to the place where you're staying for a while."
"Ginny, we don't know if we can trust her and-"
"Then trust me!" Ginny exclaimed, imbuing all her authority in her voice. "I wouldn't ask for something like that if it wasn't really important or if I wasn't sure about it. Send someone to meet her tomorrow and draw your own conclusions; but don't forget that it's because of her that there will be any chance of surviving tonight."
Ron still looked vexed "Okay, I'll send someone over to talk to her, but I can't guarantee anything-"
Ginny did not let him complete his sentence. "She's a Squib, Ron. She's as a victim as you, me and the rest of our family."
Given that new fact, Ron seemed a little more convinced and Ginny took the opportunity to make another request.
"And introduce Hermione to her!" She giggled already more relaxed. "It seems your wife has gotten a huge fan."
Ron looked at her for a moment, his expression wary and exasperated.
"I tell mum every day that you're going nuts, but for the first time, I'm really starting to believe that." He said, putting the backpack on his back and preparing to apparate.
"Hm, let's see. I grew up in a house with six wild older brothers, I fell in love and I had a son with a teenager who suffered homicide attempts every year, I married a man who hates my guts and I constantly help the Resistance against the current Government." She replied with a finger on her chin, pretending to be thoughtful. "Maybe I'm just a little bit crazy."
"Putting things that way..." Ron shrugged, containing a big grin. "Take care, Gin."
"Take care, Ron. Keep me informed!"
No sooner had she finished saying the words and he had already Apparated.
When her brother left, Ginny sat on the small sofa in the office promising to herself, despite the deeply longing for James she was feeling, she would only go home after hearing from the Resistance.
After knowing that everything was alright.
She clutched in her hand the last message she had ordered to be sent from her house, looking at James childish handwrite. "I'm ok, mum."
Ginny smiled fondly at it because she could almost visualise James rolling his green eyes at her as it was the third time she requested a message from him.
But after a few moments of waking, the pregnancy, her escape in the morning and the intense potion brewing in the afternoon began to come together and, without any further resistance, Ginny went back to sleep. She fell into a gratifying nap that was only broken when she heard the office door open quickly and abruptly.
In a heartbeat, she sat up suddenly alert, fumbling for her wand under her robe.
"I wasn't certain why, but something told me I would find you right here." Draco's drawled voice came from the door after a few seconds of tense silence.
With her hand on her wand, Ginny remained still and quiet, largely due to the fact that she was not fully awake. Draco, in turn, crossed the room and sat in the chair next to her desk, looking at her for a moment.
For an insane moment, the only thing Ginny could think of was the kiss they had shared that morning, in what seemed like a century ago; the kiss that had been strange, intense... devastating?
And for yet another crazier moment, Ginny thought they would talk about it, try to understand the dangerous domain they were entering together.
However, it seemed that Malfoy had more immediate concerns.
And so do I, Ginny thought resolutely, turning away the sensations of his touch and his lips.
"I suppose congratulations are in order." His voice was cold, impassive, polite, as if he were talking about the weather with a stranger. "What would be an easy victory for the Ministry ended up in a much tougher fight, thanks to your potions."
"The Ministry has no way of confirming they were my potions." Ginny affirmed with a confidence she did not exactly feel.
"The Ministry may not have a way." Draco shrugged indifferently. "But as for me? A completely different story. Do keep that in mind, please."
This time, no matter how hard she tried, she could not identify any emotion on the thin, pale face, even though Draco must have been furious.
Malfoy observed more closely her humble and worn clothes, her long, untidy hair, and Ginny saw the gleam of something like disapproval – and something more - crossing his grey eyes.
"What happened?" She asked hoarsely, ignoring any recriminations he might have about her appearance.
"People killed and died." Malfoy pulled out his wand and started lazily twirling it through his long fingers, as if his mind was far away. "Everything one does in situations like that."
Seeing Ginny go pale, he resumed talking already looking bored.
"Worry not, Weasley. None of your jackrabbits has been hurt; I only caught small fry today." He snorted, blowing away a few blond strands that fell down over his face. "Now get this expression of apprehension out of your face: nothing causes me more exasperation than these sentimental displays of yours."
Ginny did not even consider the insult. She was just absolutely happy that none of her family had died, however selfish that seemed. And, in some duly hidden and ignored corner of her interior, she was also relieved that Draco was apparently all right.
Ginny watched him closely – yes, he was fine, but he looked terribly exhausted, physically and mentally. Apparently, the war against the Resistance and also the private dispute between the two of them were taking its toll on Draco.
He was paler, with dark circles under his eyes. His movements – always so graceful and elegant – were slower, almost lazy.
Her thoughts were so clouded by tiredness, sleep and joy, that she spoke them out loud. "Are you okay?"
Draco raised an eyebrow as if she had asked a very odd question. "Obviously. I haven't been in the front line of combat yet. It wasn't necessary."
Ginny rolled her eyes. Certainly Draco Malfoy, the symbol of cowardice, would not risk his aristocratic arse in a battle whose victory was not certain.
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you." She said scathingly, leaning against the couch for support.
They remained silent for a while and the only movement in the room was Draco's wand, which moved rhythmically between his fingers.
"I do wonder," Draco said, leaning forward and suddenly stopping the movement of his wand. "How did you manage to run away from a prison where escapes are as common as break-ins at Gringotts."
"I was lucky." Ginny replied absently, knowing that her statement was not a lie at all. Finding out someone like Anne serving in Glastonbury was like winning the lottery a thousand times.
She did not say anything for a while and when she made her mind about come up with something that would not implicate Anne, Draco interrupted her with a haughty hand gesture of his hand.
"Better yet, don't tell me." Letting go of his wand, he brought the index finger of each hand to his temples, massaging the spots rhythmically and closing his eyes, as though he was trying to ease a pain. "Everything will be taken care of."
"What are you going to do?" Ginny asked, suspicious about the next steps he could take.
"Protect our family." Draco murmured wearily as he leaned back against his chair one more time. "Cost what it may."
Ginny gasped at him.
Our family?
Our?!
Draco went on, clearly not realising what he had just let out in his tired murmur.
"I shall have this ordeal investigated by the morning. For this night, I don't think I need more reasons to increase my headache. Salazar only know that you already provide me plenty of them in normal situations"
"You left me no choice." Ginny defended herself, not quite sure why. "I couldn't have the luxury of being trapped while you attacked my brothers, my friends."
"I wouldn't expect anything less from you." Still with his eyes closed, Draco threw her earlier words back at her, in his cold, monotonous voice, like freshly fallen snow.
Definitely, Ginny did not know how to interpret the phrase in this new context.
"Are there any more of your nasty little secrets you might want to share with me before I find out about it in the worst possible way?" Draco asked tiredly, looking up at the ceiling and exposing the elegant line of his pale neck.
Ginny was not sure if she wanted to kiss the region or just squeeze it. Either option would bring her equal satisfaction.
Nothing much, no. Only that I'm expecting your child, Ginny thought sourly, narrowing her eyes at him. But that I won't tell you while I can help it.
This baby is mine and no one – even you – will take it away from me.
"My life is an open book." Ginny was all innocence and doe-eyed, even though Draco could not see it, closed eyes and facing the ceiling as though he was praying for patience to any entity willing to listen to him.
"Too bad you ripped several pages out of it." He deadpanned and, if Ginny had not known better, he had sounded almost amused.
Then, sighing wearily one more time, Draco opened his eyes, straightened his posture and rose to leave, fixing his robe with methodical care.
"I shall give you a courtesy of one," His voice was dead and unyielding when he rose his index finger and pointed at her, always a bad omen. "One last warning."
"Oh, yes?" Ginny crossed her arms over her chest. "And what that would be?"
"I hardly expect you to behave like a proper lady, but I'm growing tired of your defiance and reaching the limit of my tolerance." Draco oozed haughtiness and Ginny felt the anger start bubbling up inside her. "I shall be damned if I allow you to make my life hell or continue to risk your neck - and mine, as a result."
"If you allow?" It was the only thing she managed to articulate without referring to him as bastard and tosser. "I make my own choices, Draco. Don't talk to me like I'm your property."
Draco turned to her and looked at her seriously, the mask of indifference that was his face giving nothing away.
"But the point is precisely that, Dear Viper." He crooned condescendingly and Ginny almost choked with anger. "That's what you really are."
"What?!"
"I paid for you the highest price anyone can pay for something: I paid with my freedom and with my pride. Paid with my name and my life. So yes, Ginevra, youare my fucking property. And I shall claim it. Shall claim you."
Ginny was totally stunned by the boldness of his statement and Draco did not wait for her to react.
When he was at the door, he seemed to remember he had to say something else and took a step back.
"It seems we ended in a draw again." And he turned to go, as if that were the most normal thing to say.
Ginny remained seated, useless wand in hand, wondering what had just hit her.
N/A: Let me know what you think! Your reviews are what keep the story going.
Thank you all!