20 - Live Your Memory and Amaze Yourself
Somewhere in southern Spain.
Despite her advanced age, Augusta Longbottom hurried down the well-lit hallway of her country house, glancing at her writhing hands - both by age and by a bloody arthritis that had accompanied her for decades. She felt particularly tired these days, even though she had done practically nothing in the past few years besides sitting down, dwelling on the past, bossing employees around and suffering unwanted memories.
She entered a stuffy room and felt the urge to remove the usual fox-fur scarf from her neck, handing it over to one of her Muggle maids who was cleaning the room and dismissed her with an impatient gesture of her hand.
"Vaya, chica, quiero estar solo. No te voy a necesitar por ahora." She said in her husky voice and the girl left, obeying her order as quickly as she could without running.
Augusta did not need anyone else in that room.
It was good the girl was intimidated by her: in general, Augusta kept away from the employees to avoid problems; these young girls were always ready to help, but also ready to gossip.
Stopping in the middle of the room, she placed her hands on her hips and cast an appraising look around for the umpteenth time. The bedroom had a well-lit environment, beautiful and comfortable decor. Satisfied with what she saw, she looked out the window at the wheat fields and the Sierra Nevada in the background, bathed in the weak sunlight of the early summer. Absolutely beautiful.
She thought that if she could choose a place to die, this would certainly be the one. Her homeland.
After all, besides dying, what was left for a woman who had already buried her husband and grandson? For a woman whose son lived in a vegetative state, his body like an empty shell? A son she had not been able to visit for so long...
Augusta felt her eyes burn, but it had been a long time since she could cry. Crying was a luxury she did not want – could not –indulge.
When her eyes strayed from the landscape to land on the big bed in the room, she automatically answered her own question about what was left for her.
Augusta knew she could not die. Not yet. She knew there was something worth to fighting for.
Harry Potter slept peacefully, as if he were taking a nap after lunch, just as her Frank liked to do. Looking around to see if the Muggle girl was really gone, she allowed herself to give a sad sigh, adjusting the blanket covering half the man's body on the bed with a firm gesture of her wand.
Augusta remembered as if it were yesterday, the day they brought Potter. And Neville.
And when she remembered her grandson, a stubborn tear ran down her wrinkled face.
Hermione Granger and one of the Weasley' boys had knocked on her door, bringing two bodies protected by that curious Invisibility Cloak. Like the others, Augusta had fled Hogwarts and had taken refuge in a safe place, away from Voldemort's disgusting hands.
Since then, she had settled on one of her properties in Spain - inherited by her side of the family - which would make Voldemort's life very difficult if he decided to check the Longbottom's properties and assets. She doubted anyone would even remember that she only was a Longbottom through marriage.
"Mrs. Longbottom." The girl had said, her eyes swollen and red. "Neville, he-" She could not finish, but it was all too obvious to the old woman. "I'm so sorry."
Without bothering to answer the girl, Augusta knelt with difficult beside Neville's body and linked her hand with her grandson's.
"How did it happen?" She asked without looking at the girl.
She sniffed to avoid crying and Augusta watched as the Weasley boy put his long arm around her shoulders. It had been him who answered her. "He died trying to protect Harry."
A dead silence fell over them and Augusta had to restrain herself from allowing her body to convulse in a copious cry.
"My poor, poor brave boy..." was all she allowed herself to say, running her hand over Neville's round face and feeling she was trembling with the intensity of all the words she had not said to him, all the compliments she should have told her grandson in life. Now she could only pray that he had understood the true intent of her rigor, of her silence. Tears pressed into her eyes, but she kept her posture rigid. "A shame it didn't work in the end."
"Actually," Hermione cleared her throat, suddenly more embarrassed. "It did work. That's why we are here. We need your help, Mrs. Longbottom."
Augusta stared at the girl and saw how her eyes wandered towards Harry Potter's body, motionless beside her grandson. And then her eyes widened slightly when she understood everything.
"We need him to live." The Weasley boy expressed the desire of almost the entire wizarding world aloud and firmly.
From that moment on, she had taken care of Harry Potter, with the hope and dedication of those who grew a seed in infertile soil.
She ran a hand over the comatose man's cold forehead, as though she could pass on the rest of her vitality to him.
May Merlin help you, boy, she thought, closing her eyes. You owe my grandson that much.
Diagonal Alley, London.
Draco Malfoy carefully lifted the hood of his robe. His platinum hair definitely was not suitable when it came to being discreet. It was already dark and, even if he had given up on luck a long time ago, he would not leave his destine to any chance.
Arms crossed over his chest, he was leaning against a wall at the end of Diagon Alley, partially hidden by the building's facade and with a panoramic view of the whole place.
He was slightly annoyed for doing such low-level task after he had risen so high in the Ministry hierarchy, but he could not trust no one. At least not directly.
Grudgingly, he was forced to send a Auror to Knockturn Alley and another one to Hogsmead with the excuse that he had received an anonymous tip that duels between pure-blood wizards were scheduled for those locations and, therefore, the Ministry should interrogate any suspected, communicating it to Malfoy immediately.
That, however, was only a preventive measure. Draco felt in his bones that was Diagon Alley to where she would come and that was why he was there personally. There was no other less risky option available.
Helped by the contacts off the records Blaise had brought him, Draco had thoroughly investigated everything about Ginevra's little escape and tried even harder to cover up the whole affair. Bribed whoever he could, threatened the rest. He exchanged favors and demanded others, all with the excuse that he did not want people knowing that his wife had been disobedient.
It's better to have a bad reputation for being married to an undisciplined, vulgar woman than to a traitor, he wrinkled his nose in disgust.
And then all he had to do was hope that no one else was interested in that investigation... It would not be remotely good if people get focused on his bloody wife, even if she was stupid enough not to notice it.
He had tracked down the girl tasked with bringing food to Ginevra in the prison, and it only could have been her who had helped the Ginger Vixen. There was absolutely no one else who fit the story.
The guards and the doorman seemed quite frightened by the appearance of Malfoy name to have collaborated with anything in Weasley's escape.
Glastonbury's staff had been incompetent and negligent, it was true. But if he were to accuse all incompetents around him of betrayal, half of England would be considered disloyal.
It had to be the girl. And unlike the guards, she was missing until that moment.
A fucking Squib, he uncrossed his arms and clenched his fists at his sides. Involuntarily, he wondered who else the Red Viper would be able to lure to achieve her goals. He shifted uncomfortably at the thought and returned to concentrating on his investigation.
He was sure that Weasley, noble, Gryffindor and insufferable saviour she was, would not leave the Squib girl helpless. Anne - that was the girl's name, he remembered - would soon come to Ginevra. Or rather, to the Resistance.
And Draco would be there to witness this interesting meeting.
After a few more tedious minutes, he noticed a hooded figure walking hesitantly down Diagon Alley. A small, clearly feminine form who exhalated fear. He looked more closely, taking advantage of the fact she was oblivious to his observation.
It was the girl.
Draco remembered each detail of her dull face, her blond and opaque hair that escaped under the hood, the oppressed and pitiful look he had memorized from the photo that the Glastonbury leaders had given him.
Draco made no effort to retain his victorious smile. He really liked the feeling of being right.
He waited for her to enter The Leaky Cauldron and prepared to follow her. He would be the one to approach her and her contact. The Resistance's contact. The smile widened on his pale lips when he thought of the face Ginevra would make when he told her he had reached the girl.
However, his mood changed dramatically when he saw another figure approaching and felt his jaw tighten.
It was a big, clumsy and very ugly being, Draco realised. A being he knew too well, to his eternal chagrin. He grimaced.
Goyle apparently had not been satisfied with Draco's investigation. Probably he wanted to ask his own questions, for reasons that were still hazy to Malfoy. And Draco did not like it at all.
Somehow, the idiot troglodyte had reached Anne before Zabini could erase the tracks left by Ginevra and the girl.
Draco gazed reproachfully at the sky, as if he could take out his frustration on some divine entity.
Salazar, cannot I count on a little goodwill from the universe at least once? He thought acidly, walking over to Goyle as the squib girl plunged into The Leaky Cauldron, getting farther and farther out of his reach.
Malfoy was frustrated and felt like kicking something -someone-, but there was no other option: he could never allow Goyle to be even close to knowing the reason for the Ginger Vixen untimely attitudes.
Draco lowered his hood, feeling his loose hair hit his chin while he blocked the path of his ex-Slytherin partner, who looked at him with small eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"Good night, Goyle."
"Malfoy." Goyle looked over Malfoy's shoulder while trying to catch a glimpse of the hooded girl. He took a side step to dodge the blonde man, but Malfoy followed the movement, stopping in front of him again.
"Nice night for a walk, isn't it?" Draco said casually as if he had met Goyle in a park. "Too bad I had assigned you to coordinate a recon operation in Winchester." This time he felt his own expression change, closing and becoming the cold mask that everyone associated with him. "Which reminds me to ask you, what the hell are you doing here?"
Goyle looked slightly embarrassed and scratched his head, temporarily forgetting the girl.
"I sent Rumlow to the task... He left two hours ago and I came here to..." He stopped as if he did not know what to say.
"To...?" Malfoy encouraged softly - lethally.
"Further investigations of an escape in Glastonbury." Goyle answered slowly; the truth, after all, did not demand the creation of an alternative scenario, something that Goyle certainly could not deal with.
Draco's face hardened automatically and a gleam of concern crossed Goyle's dull expression.
"I thought I made it clear in my reports that I had already done a throughout investigation on the matter. It was just a confusion made by the guards. Since it was a case of a person who would only be there for a day, the situation had already been resolved. No escape will happen again. The responsible for Glastonbury have already ensured that."
"I thought I could help." Goyle murmured, an incipient challenge in his voice.
"If we depended on your ability to think, we'd be in serious trouble." Draco replied with ice in his voice.
"Listen to me, Malfoy-"
"No, you listen to me. And, please, do it intently." Draco interrupted him and entered Goyle's personal circle to make his point clearer, even though he was bothered by his height disadvantage.
Draco was definitely not used to looking up to talk to anyone, but Goyle seemed to be an exception to the rule.
"For the sake of our old days, I shall disregard all of this and I won't take your meddling to the Dark Lord. But I shall not admit you putting this ugly nose of yours into my Department affairs. If you want to help, you will have to do it under my rules, under my orders."
"As you wish, Malfoy. Your department, your rules." Goyle said after a long moment and his face was red with anger. He was practically pushing the words through his teeth before completing. "For now."
Draco ignored the underlying threat and walked away, feeling an urge to get away from that man. "May I assume you're going to Winchester?"
"Yes." Goyle nodded. He turned his back on Draco and had to control the sudden urge to wrap his callused hands around Malfoy's slender neck, walking away.
"And Goyle...?" Draco called when the other Death Eater was already leaving.
Goyle turned his body to face Malfoy again, impatience in his posture. "What now?"
"Stay the fuck away from my wife or I shall kill you." Draco crossed his arms over his chest and the two of them stared at each other for a while, both remembering the assault on Ginevra's shop, under orders and with Goyle's participation. "Painfully."
Then the bigger man turned away and left, saying nothing more.
Draco watched him walk away with slow steps. He knew there were remnants of hurt between the two of them, after their Slytherin years and, especially, after Crabbe's death. But how far would Goyle go in order to harm him? Suddenly, he did not want to find out.
When he entered The Leaky Cauldron after a few minutes, there was no sign of the Squib among the scattered tables and the half-drunk customers.
The girl had escaped with the Resistance and Draco had a feeling he would only set his eyes on her again when the situation had cooled and the doubts had died.
He turned to go, cursing his bad luck once again.
Goyle clenched his fists at his sides and knew that his face had twisted into an angry grimace, as he was scaring the rare people who dared to pass in front of him that late at night.
He would go to Winchester as Malfoy wanted, he would move following Malfoy's wand until his moment arrives. The moment when he would rise in the Ministry and would get Malfoy out of his way, thus getting two great pleasures at the same time.
He had to suppress a disgusted groan that his plans had not worked out, even though he did not know for sure what was going on. But there was something going on, oh, about that he was confident.
The truth was that this whole story about Malfoy's wife escape from the prison was quite odd, even for Goyle. There was something bothering the limits of his mind, but he could not place what it was. Then he decided he would investigate the situation using his own methods.
He wanted to speak to the prison maid, interrogate her, try to understand how Draco's wife had escaped and if there was anything he could use against Malfoy.
It was relatively normal for some of the Death Eaters to use Glastonbury to teach 'lessons' to their wives - which made perfect sense to Goyle - but it was not normal for them to do so clandestinely. And even less normal for wives fleeing from there. There was something strange about that specific wife…
Something that attracted and infuriated him at the same time. After that night at her shop, he was barely able to stop thinking about her, with a mixture of curiosity, desire, interest… Longing?
He tied himself in knots, but, blessedly, he reached the point of Apparition and could simply focus on something that did not intrigue him, that did not compel him to think.
He would go to Winchester and carry out his orders, his mission to the Dark Lord.
Ginny woke up in her bed, with a very small, grey owl beating insistently against her window.
Pigwidgeon! She recognized the animal, getting up quickly.
Still half-sleepy, she shivered with the coldest breeze that came in when she opened the window. As usual, the owl was extremely happy when Ginny removed the note from its paw and patted its head tenderly.
"Thank you, Pig." The owl bristled before leaving, pecking at Ginny' finger lightly and she smiled. "I missed you too."
When the owl was gone, Ginny unrolled the parchment with a coded note from Ron and, recognising the typical pattern of a note from her brother, she sat on the bed and held it with shaking hands.
Mrs. Malfoy,
Everything is well with your oldest and most precious stock.
No vial of potion for which you recommended special care has been broken, not even scratched. The objective was successfully achieved, despite some small losses that we hope to recover soon.
You'll be happy to know I received your order at The Leaky Cauldron last night and it's already with us, properly stored and away from threats, such as humidity and heat.
It's always a pleasure to do business with you.
She giggled happily at the thought that everything was fine with her family and that they managed to contact Anne... So, she was with the Resistance now. Ginny sighed with relief and mentally thanked the girl again.
Neither Draco nor the Ministry were able to arrest her, she thought with a hint of elation for having won over Malfoy.
It was true that now Anne would have to leave the scene for a few months until the dust of Ginny's escape settled, but that was the lowest price to pay: her new ally was safe, until Ginny could better repay the help that the young woman had given her. Maybe one day she could even call Anne to work at her shop and be closer to her...
She was still lost in her thoughts when James came in like a hurricane into her bedroom jumping over her and Ginny could finally enjoy a moment of peace. Her attention was entirely on James whenever he was around. She would not allow herself to give less than that to her son.
"Ma!" The boy said, jumping on top of her and wrapping his arms around her. "I didn't see you yesterday the whoooole day-" He stretched the word to emphasize his argument. "I was worried! And Della was, too, though she doesn't say anything."
Since Della was practically James' only daily companion, he tended to be considerably interested in the different nuances of elves behavior.
"I was dealing with some problems at our shop." Ginny ruffled his reddish-brow hair. "But I promise I'll spend the day with you! And guess what? Tomorrow too!" She smiled radiantly. "We deserve a few days for a family time, what do you think?"
"Awesome!" James agreed and clasped his hands together. "And Mr. Malfoy?"
Ginny was puzzled for an instant. "What about him?"
James shrugged as though his question were the most natural one. "He won't come with us?"
"I – I don't think Draco has time." Ginny said hesitantly. "He's a very busy man. Why do you ask?"
"If we'll have a family time, we should invite him." James pointed logically. "He's our family, isn't he?"
Ginny was at loss and had no idea what to say. She had never seen the situation from that angle. However, seeing things from that perspective...
"You know what? I think he really is." Ginny affirmed after thinking for a few seconds. "But I suppose now it's very short notice. I'll have it in mind next time and we can invite him."
"Okay, next time then…" James was a little reticent. He always had been prone to have a big family. "So, can we have ice cream and watch the Chudley Cannons game!?"
Ginny rolled her eyes at his suggestion and James made his best expression of an abandoned boy.
"Please, mum, it's the best team in the Universe... After the Harpies, of course!" He completed quickly, upon seeing Ginny's grimace.
"You bet!" Ginny laughed and threw herself on the bed hugging James and dragging him with her.
Ginny decided that she would spend the day with her son without worrying about anything else, nor about the future of the Wizarding World, nor about the moods of her Death Eater husband, nor about her rebellious family.
It would be just Ginny, James and the baby, whom she thought of fondly, putting her hand on her belly. Although it was far from evident, was enough to feed her most maternal instincts.
In that moment, she had everything she needed at her fingertips.
In the first few days after her blessed moment with James, Ginny's mood was so much lighter she did not even care about the possibility of meeting an angry and spiteful Draco – probably still butthurt because of her escape incident.
But, inevitably, they had to meet for her private Occlumency's classes. Then, how she expected, he reappeared at her home. At her shop. In her life.
In the end, these classes forced periodic meetings between the two of them – meetings that could also be symbolically called the Third Wizarding War.
She was annoyed by his nasty insinuations about her (lack of) abilities, his arrogant posture, the satisfaction of being unpleasant that he had.
They fought.
She promised herself she would control her temper next time.
He came back.
She became annoyed.
They fought.
And so they seemed to form a vicious circle that Ginny was sure would only end when she strangled the Bouncing Ferret's neck with her bare hands.
Depending on their mood, their banter could be permeated by provocations, accusations, memories... And that last one was the part that bothered Ginny the most; she had struggled for years to disconnect, at least in part, from a past that only made her suffer, but there was Draco Malfoy, with his arrogant stance, his icy gaze, his cold mockery, to remind her of all the things she wanted to forget.
And so they went on, without reaching consensus, nor managing to get away from each other.
Once, to her eternal outrage, while Malfoy was talking about the importance of closing her mind to external invasions for the twenty-second time that week and pointing out with pleasure all points which Ginny was not good at, she really got angry.
Not with him, specifically.
Sitting in a comfortable armchair in her living room, with her chin in her hand, Ginny thought absently about which part of Malfoy's body she would give up more easily.
She was extremally disgusted with herself when her eyes involuntarily roamed over his long, crossed legs, up to his thighs, past his toned belly, across the flat chest she knew - and hated to admit she did -, past his slender, white neck, reaching his face, strolling through his mouth, his very white and straight teeth, his aristocratic nose, his hair – longer than they were at Hogwarts-, which fell carelessly down his face and made him have to throw them back occasionally in a bored gesture - and a terribly sexy one, to Ginny's chagrin.
She decided that the Malfoy's part she would miss the least was his brain – because she was quite fond of the rest of him - and the thought took her breath away.
Ron was right: she had lost what little sense she had. Enjoying Draco Malfoy's physical forms!
As everything can always get worse, Draco seemed to notice the appraising look she had cast in his direction so carelessly. His mouth lifted at the corners in an indication of his mocking smile, the kind she decidedly hated.
"Enjoying the view, Weasley?" Draco did not even try to hide his stupid smile. "I cannot censure you, for sure."
She came to herself quickly, in time to contain the blush that would surely deliver an affirmative answer to his question.
"Bored with the view actually." She responded quickly, feigning mockery. "You already told me about that part a million times." She rolled his eyes in a clear attempt to change the subject.
"And yet, you still haven't mastered it." Draco gave her a sharp look.
"Maybe it's because my teacher is awful." Ginny countered sweetly.
As she expected, offending Malfoy's ability to do anything elicited his instinct to prove himself right, and as a result, he momentarily forgot the sneak peek incident.
"I'm not to blame if you're not fast enough to learn." He said unpleasantly. "We have been taking classes for weeks by now and you still allow me to invade your mind."
"If it's so easy, why don't let me try with you?" Ginny challenged, tired of his accusations about her abilities. "Then you can show me how to close my bloody mind."
Ignoring the fact Ginny had mockingly mimic his way of speaking, Malfoy was clearly amused by the fact that she thought she could perform the spell correctly.
"You don't even know how to shield yourself from this type of invasion, what makes you believe that you will be able to attack me?"
Self-centered bastard, Ginny thought retaining a grimace.
"Well, I've already seen you do it a thousand times by now, you said yourself." She shrugged while looking at her nails disinterestedly. "I know the spell and what I have to do. I think it's just a matter of practicing."
"Humor me." Draco smiled the way she vowed to hate and tapped a long index finger at his forehead, indicating she was invited to try. "You wouldn't enter my mind even in your best dreams, Weasley."
"In my worst nightmares, you mean."
Ginny did not wait for his reply; walked over to where he was sitting, pulled out the nearest chair and sat face to face with him in order to improve their eye contact. She knew she would need all the help available to make this work.
Draco stance got tense, suddenly alert, as if Ginny's mere proximity were enough to offend him somehow and she suppressed something in her that was slightly upset by his attitude. Their knees were touching and, even though she was still shorter than him in this position, she was able to get a good view of his face.
Of the dimple on one side that was accentuated in the rare moments he laughed, of the pale skin, the little scar above his right eyebrow, of the eyes that darkened at the slightest sign of intensity. Now they were clear, showing more curiosity than vigilance.
She drove out thoughts about Draco Malfoy's face and concentrated on what she had to do.
"Legilimens." Ginny murmured softly, squeezing her wand between her fingers, and suddenly, a strange tingle ran through her body, as if she were stronger than she really was.
As though her atoms wanted to escape from where they were to enter into another body, breaking barriers, passing any boundaries in the way.
So she focused on Draco and knew that he was the real barrier to be broken. She felt like a hammer, banging insistently against an indestructible wall, hitting walls made of silver diamonds. She almost became distracted when thought she would not be able to pass it…
But she would not let him have the satisfaction of seeing her fail, at least not so easily. There must be a way…
They were staring at each other, mahogany into silver, in a silent challenge full of tension and expectation; uncomfortably, she suspected that even if she wanted to, she could not have broken their eye contact. And his eyes darkened, taking on that hue of molten silver that was a sign of something was stirring him, nudging him, taking him out of his comfort zone.
The feeling was that she was a cat, trying to catch a small mouse well hidden in his den; she surrounded him on all sides, covered all possibilities, but could not get in…
So, it's necessary to get the mouse out! She thought more determinedly.
Yes, it's necessary.
Still under the influence of obstinate concentration, she leaned forward, lifting her face. Not sure how, her lips were on his, feeling them cold, dry. And then she felt as if an electric current had passed through her body, coming directly from his, from the contact with his lips.
He opened his eyes wide but did not back away; Ginny guessed that he was too shocked to show any further reaction.
Ginny felt Draco's mental barriers collapsing so fast that she found herself sucked into his mind, as if she were going down a big drain. Suddenly, it was not just the grey eyes wide with surprise that were in front of her and she was able to register his feelings.
Instinctively, the tip of her tongue dragged over his bottom lip before easing into his mouth and Draco shivered. Ginny did not know whether by the opening of his mind or his mouth.
Inside his mind, passing going through the first layer of lust that came up - no, she would not focus on that - Ginny felt anger, fear, indignation, envy. She felt his pride when he thought of Slytherin and his Hogwarts minions and, at the same time, saw pure loneliness.
Was he lonely? The boy who had everything was lonely ...
She caught a glimpse of his longing for his father, and it was her fault, too, what had happened to Lucius, wasn't it? But there was no time to think about her own thoughts, because all she felt was Draco; physically, with her mouth pressed to his, and psychologically, with all the images of memories long confined within him.
Forgetting her wand, she brought both hands to cup his face in a gentle caress, exploring his mouth leisurely. His tongue ever so slowly answered hers, hungry, consuming, pulling her to him.
She felt his love for his mother, the need to keep her away and the pain it caused him. She saw a lapse of an image of Astoria smiling and she felt her stomach sink, not sure why.
She felt his absolute fear when she saw Voldemort... She knew now that his loyalty was based on fear, on the instinct of self-preservation... She had the confirmation that Draco Malfoy was only loyal to himself and his family.
Everything was spinning and Ginny, who was doing it for the first time, was not prepared to filter what was relevant, do what Draco used to do, search for a specific point in his mind and make the most of it.
Draco finally gave in completely, and a throaty sound escaped him. A sound that made her absolutely hot.
Ginny expected her own eagerness for one more kiss after the ones they had shared – there was no point in denying it to herself-, but did not anticipate his. For someone who was so irritatingly detached, Draco kissed like a man who could never be satiated.
It was the most intimate thing she had ever done with someone, merging with another person completely, body and mind.
And it was also the most erotic, Merlin help her.
Conversely, she was bombarded with a torrent of images, Draco as a child, getting expensive broomsticks, playing with his mother; Draco going to Hogwarts, becoming snobbish at Hogwarts, dominating Slytherin in his own way.
And she saw Blaise saying to him 'she's gone...'.
It was at Hogwarts! It was Blaise in his elegant gown, ready to the ball she had been forced to go to with Draco! The ball where she had first thought of Malfoy as a being with feelings.
And Blaise repeated 'she's gone ...'. Draco had been sad about something, but what? And then she saw that he was looking for someone outside the hall and Blaise's constant voice came again, 'she's gone'...
He was looking for me!
When I ran out, he had looked for me!
She gasped violently, breaking the kiss, fighting for breath and there was no more time to feel anything.
Draco pushed her hard, spreading a hand on each of Ginny's arms and standing up quickly, almost knocking over the chair he was sitting on.
"What did you see?" He asked after a moment, colder than ever.
Ginny could see that he was shaking slightly and that his hands were closed at his sides, exuding tension – and something much more carnal.
"Nothing." She replied promptly, looking away.
She was lying and he knew it. And the two preferred it that way.
"Excellent." He uttered staring at a spot on the wall behind her. His platinum hair was starting to stick to his forehead due to the sweat, indicating that the experience had been more intense than what he was letting on.
"Yes." Ginny agreed too quickly.
"By the way, that was a cheap shot, even for you." He said reprovingly. He was regaining his control again. "You know very well how unpleasant it is for me to be close to you."
Somehow, his words stung more than Ginny was willing to admit. She tried to deflect her thoughts from the words, paying attention to the fact that he had almost pouted when he spoke, like an upset child. She had to bite her lip to avoid laughing.
"I thought you were a fan of the idea that we use the weapons we have in order to win."
Ginny was the symbol of disinterested calm and Draco crossed his arms, possibly to prevent them from strangling Ginny's neck.
"You have no shame!" He berated scandalized like a maiden. "I do hope you start taking these classes seriously. It's not just your life that is at stake here."
"I take them very seriously!" Ginny responded in exasperation, raising her hands in a gesture of impatience. "All this tantrum is because you're not accepting the fact that I was able to enter your mind."
"By cheating." Draco rolled his eyes at her.
This time Ginny laughed out loud, really thinking that now he looked like one of those boys who owned all the brooms at Quidditch play and threatened to leave the game when something was annoying them.
He reacted to her expression with disgust. "You can take that brazen smile off your face; it won't happen again. Tomorrow we shall continue, until you can learn something worthwhile." He said and left in sequence, not waiting for her answer, nor for her to stop laughing.
Which did not happen for a good few minutes after he left.
The truth was that Ginny was getting really good at Occlumency.
She was sure she would be even better if Draco and her did not spend half the time they had together provoking, antagonizing, offending and irritating each other.
Sometimes she sighed tiredly; Draco could not resist the chance of being unpleasant – a real prick, according to Ginny - and she could not control her explosive temper – a real heathen, according to Draco-, which was a perfect match for the disasters disguised as Occlumency classes.
And despite all these setbacks, she was getting better by the day. Malfoy could no longer easily enter her mind and sometimes he needed very intense eye contact to succeed.
(These were the moments Ginny liked least: staring into those grey eyes had disturbed her since she was sixteen and the feeling did not seem to have left her over the years)
The incident of the stolen kiss - or what Draco had kindly called dirty and immoral cheating - was duly ignored, forgotten and sealed under lock and key, as was everything that involved the feelings and situations that Draco and her could not deal with properly. And what she had seen in his memories...
Ginny shook her head to chase away the thought and to recap seven uses of Dragon's blood to keep her mind focused.
She failed. Miserably.
Why the hell had he come looking for me after offending me at the ball?! And why didn't Blaise mention anything about it?
She almost pinched herself to refocus on more practical issues regarding her private classes and its importance, which was increasing every day for reasons that Draco could not even suspect.
One of the things that encouraged her to strive for good performance in the art of blocking the mind from outside invasions was the fact she could not reveal her thoughts and feelings about the pregnancy to Malfoy.
Sometimes, she had to rein in the natural instinct that compelled her to put a hand on her belly and rub it when she was in his presence. And that was happening with increasing frequency because the more they saw each other, the more relaxed she became in Draco's presence, despite their disagreements.
And Ginny knew it was dangerous; letting her guard down near him was almost the same as offending a hippogriff and being around to tell the story.
She knew that sooner or later she would have to tell him. Still...
Not yet.
The classes that followed were more relaxed and Ginny had to put aside modesty to admit that she was already much more confidant to defend herself from attacks on her mind.
But she could not help thinking that it felt like the calm before the storm.
Ginny Apparated near her house a little later than usual. It had been one of the days that had definitely gone wrong. She had lost a good deal of Erumpent Draught because of a batch of spoiled Doxy eggs and had been stranded with bureaucratic problems. When she got home, the only thing she wanted to do was take a shower, eat something very greasy, sit in front of the fireplace with James and talk about amenities with the boy.
When she entered her living room, however, she was greeted with a scene she would never expect to see.
Draco was sitting in an armchair, visibly uncomfortable and trying at all costs not to look at James, who in turn was sitting in another armchair, swinging his feet at random as if that was something really interesting to do.
The two pairs of eyes turned towards her when she entered the room and the only feeling she could catch from both was relief; Ginny had to concentrate hard not to laugh at the situation.
James ran towards her as if it were the most important thing in the world, while Draco just rolled his eyes at them impatiently.
"Hello, Mom!" James said after hugging her tightly. "I came to keep Mr. Malfoy company until you arrive." He uttered and gave Draco a sideways look before completing in a whisper. "Della said when you're not there, I must be the young master of the house. So, I tried to hang out with him, but I don't think it worked…"
Ginny ran a hand through her son's hair and replied smiling in the same tone. "Della is right, Jamie. And I'm very proud, you've behaved very well."
Her son was brave enough to leave behind the horrible experience of the first meeting between Draco and him. In fact, courage was a trait he seemed to have inherited in abundance, both from her and from Harry.
Despite Ginny's praise, James looked unsure about what to say and shot another suspicious look at Draco.
"I wanted to show him my collection of chocolate frog cards and the broomsticks I'd like to have one day, but he doesn't seem to like chocolate and Quidditch very much." He said even lower, as if it was not advisable, under any circumstances, to trust people who did not like chocolate and, mainly, Quidditch.
Ginny, who was sure Draco had heard everything, took a second before answering. "It's just that he doesn't know how to play very well. So he gets a little shy because of his lack of skill."
And this time the urge to laugh was stronger when she noticed that Draco had flushed considerably and became restless.
"Ahh," James sighed sadly, really touched by the misfortune of people who are not good at playing Quidditch. "As soon as I learn, I can teach him, so he won't be so sad anymore."
"I think it's a great idea, luv." Ginny smiled widely at the boy, who abandoned his thoughtful expression to match his mother's gesture. "But for that, you need to learn first and that includes knowing all the game's rules. You can start by researching that book on Quidditch that I gave you last week. What do you think?"
James sighed, not quite comfortable with the idea of learning Quidditch from books and not from practice, but he gave up looking at his mother, then at Draco.
"When I learn the rules, I'll be able to practice on a broom?" He asked hopefully.
"You bet." Ginny replied and winked at her son.
The boy bowed formally to Draco before going in search of his book, too excited to lower his voice. "I'm gonna learn everything to teach you, Mr. Malfoy!"
He had barely finished the sentence and was already bolting through the door, forgetting all the previous formality.
Still smiling, Ginny sat down in the armchair James had just left and removed her shoes, starting to massage her foot circularly; the pregnancy was definitely starting to take its toll. She was very tired and hungry.
"Took you long enough." Malfoy drawled, his eyes fixed on the rhythmic movements of her hands.
That Draco Malfoy was aware of her schedule was strange enough, but subtly asking for explanations from her was too much.
"Surprisingly, James likes you." Ginny mentioned casually, preferring to ignore the implications of his comment. "Was he a good host in my absence?" She grinned at him, testing his diplomacy.
"He certainly was. Have you not seen how I was extremely comfortable in his presence?" Draco replied cynically and then looked at her disapprovingly. "And I'll have you know that I am an outstanding Quidditch player, as good as you are."
"Oh my!" Ginny placed her hand over her heart in mock surprise. "Was that a compliment to my skills, Mr. Malfoy?"
"Not to the skills that matter, is it?" He smiled unpleasantly, clearly referring to Occlumency.
"Don't worry." Ginny ignored him. "Soon you'll be very good at Quidditch too. I bet James will be a very devoted teacher."
Draco paid her barb no mind. His expression became thoughtful in sequence. "They're very similar. It's like I'm looking at a bloody ghost."
Ginny did not have to think long to find out he was referring to Harry and, possibly, that was a view that Draco would not like at all.
"This is how I feel too, many times. But it's still a way to stop the nostalgia." Ginny replied, flushing a little and Draco shifted in his chair, slightly uncomfortable. "Did you come for more classes? I don't know if more of them are really necessary... I think I can manage Occlumency from now on." She changed the subject strategically.
Talking about Harry, with Draco of all people, was not one of her favorite activities.
He gave his typical mocking smirk and Ginny stopped massaging her feet, sitting up properly in the chair. It would be a looong night.
"Are you that confident? It doesn't even seem I can get into your mind whenever I feel like it."
It wasn't true! Ginny took a deep breath. He was only doing what he did best: teasing her. She was beginning to suspect he had some morbid pleasure in seeing her lose control.
She almost blushed when remembered that he had already confessed something to that effect, the day he left her in prison, before they shared that kiss...
The kiss…
Ginny shook her head. She would not remember that again.
"Maybe I'm dealing with you too much and becoming a pretentious twat." She said keeping her calm composure and winked at him. "I have the best teacher in that field."
She was expecting a nasty reply, an impertinent comment or for him to exhibit his pampered pout, but Draco did none of that: with surprising speed, he twirled his wand in one hand, preparing to use it, and with the other one he pulled Ginny's arm with incredible strength, lifting her off the chair and making her fall to her knees in front of him.
He smiled devilishly, pointing his wand at her. "Legilimens."
Ginny knew she should not get lost into the grey eyes. She knew she should resist and that he had done it to get back at her because of her little trickery. She knew he just wanted to piss her off.
She just needed to take a deep breath...
He was no longer able to invade her mind when he wanted to, so she just needed to take a deep breath and resist. Of course, in addition to diverting her thoughts from the long, strong fingers that hold her right wrist.
But she was so tired, so hungry... She wanted her bed, to relax in front of the fireplace, to rest her feet... And that line of reasoning had not even ended when the silver melted into her head, flooding her thoughts.
Fuck! She gasped, trying to close her mind like a drowning person searched the water's surface. However, it was too late.
It always caused a strange sensation, as if she were lighter, more open... And then some points of her life passed through her eyes involuntarily. This time she had gone back to the time when she was confined to Hogwarts, brewing potions with Professor Slughorn, treating Sybill Trelawney's ugly wound ... What happened to her after they had to evacuate Hogwarts?
Soon her memories took her to those afternoons when they planned the attack on Voldemort's clearing and to her anguish when trying to approach Harry... No, she did not want Draco to see that! But the memories came in an uncontrollable flow, as if they escaped through her fingers when she tried to hold them back.
Thinking about Harry was a huge mistake.
And, again, she found herself in Harry's arms, being carried to the Hufflepuff dormitories and burying her face into her boyfriend's neck (or whatever Harry was to her back then), smelling so familiar, so intimate. They kissed, craving for each other.
Ginny wanted to stop, to control, to prevent Draco from seeing more, but in the next moment of her memory, Harry and her were already lying on one of the dorm beds, with Harry running his hand all over her with what seemed like a timid deference and Ginny, trembling slightly, anxiously awaited the next step that would come. Harry was just as inexperienced as she was and hesitated in every gesture, as if he was afraid to hurt her in some way.
She knew she should close her eyes, but could not; between Draco's touch in the present and Harry's touch in the past, everything was confusion, everything was anguish, as if two relentless walls were closing around her, pressing her, crushing her.
When the memory reached the moment where Harry was above her, in the distressing and exciting moment before the first penetration, Draco and Ginny reacted at the same time.
He released her abruptly and she broke eye contact, collapsing on her heels and resting both hands on the floor, still in front of him. Malfoy jumped up from the chair as if he had gotten a shock and Ginny lowered her head, trying to regulate her breathing, feeling the sweat running down her face.
She cursed herself. Three times. And one more, for not really understanding why she had done it in the first place.
It was only after a few minutes that she removed the cascading red hair from her face and looked up at the man in front of her, standing, looking at her with her immutable ice gaze.
Ginny searched his face for mockery, cynicism, sarcasm as he witnessed - or in the least sensed - the most intimate moment between Harry and her. However, she found nothing.
Or rather, nothing she had expected.
He was in control, as usual. And silent. But a cold, relentless rage emanated from him; a fury that was almost palpable, that came out his steel eyes and invaded her body, destroying all the self-control she could have.
Bad signal, bad signal!
When he spoke, his voice was steady, unmoved, unfeeling and unnatural. "You were right. Our classes are no longer necessary; you're really able to survive this world without my help."
"Draco, wait. I, I-"
What did she owe that man, anyway? Ginny wondered, her thoughts lost in a sea of confusion
Malfoy interrupted her before she could transform the stutter into a sensible sentence. "You're on your own, Ginevra. I cannot-"
He stopped.
"You can't what?" Ginny said through clenched teeth.
"I cannot subject myself to this anymore." He answered with a hint of disgust and something more. "I shall not do it."
Then, he left without looking back, his robe fluttering behind him, as if Ginny was not worth a farewell from him.
It had been a while since she felt so confused, upset, abandoned.
I did nothing wrong! She thought, getting angrier by the second when her reasoning was a little more coherent.
If she did not know any better, she would say that his reaction had been something like... jealousy.
Merlin, where are Malfoy and I going to? Still on the floor, she leaned her forehead where he had sat and felt her eyes burn with tears of doubt that she would not allow to fall.
N/A: Hohoho, always kissing whenever they can.
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