Ginny crashed onto the hearth in her room to find Lucius sitting in his usual armchair. She pulled herself, with great reluctance, up to her feet, but before she could open her mouth he pressed a single finger to his lips, shushing her. Indeed, an iridescent bottle labeled "Hangover Helper" sat on the table before him.
"Drinking in the day is always such a mistake," he said in a low voice. "Especially with so much travel afterwards."
"And in the sun," she croaked as she went to him. He opened his arms, making room for her on his lap. It was easy for her to curl up there, and she pressed her cheek into his shoulder, the linen of his beach shirt cool and scratchy. The room was blissfully quiet and still, and the light was dimmed by the sheer curtains, which he must have pulled.
"Here," he said as he reached around her to grab the bottle. "Screw the spoon, just take a big drink."
Ginny took a swig from the open bottle, and effervescent liquid streamed down her throat. She felt a little better, but knew from experience it would take a while to truly kick in.
"It's the 31st," she murmured, and he nodded assent.
"I know. But why worry about it?"
"You knew."
"Knew it was the 31st? Certainly."
"No. That it's Harry's birthday."
"Of course I knew. You don't think I run off to the beach on just any old day of the week, do you?"
She smiled, and although his eyes were closed he could feel the change in the pressure on his body.
"You were trying to distract me."
"Mmm."
It was so warm there, pressed against one another, feeling the movement of the other's chests as the potion began to work and breathing became easier. Spending a day in the sun at the beach was one thing; this was entirely another. But good things end, don't they? He shifted forward, squeezing her very tight for a brief moment. The blood in her veins flowed faster, and she wondered if he could feel the change.
"Narcissa…" He cleared his throat. "She was a little better when we got back."
Ginny's mind spun, and for a moment, hating herself, she had a traitorous thought: what if she lives?
"She knows I can't catch anything from her now. She wants me to sleep with her again – in our bed, I mean."
Lucius took one look at her and began to backtrack, panicking at the thought of hurting her.
"But that doesn't really mean anything, Ginny, you know it doesn't. Tomorrow she may be worse, tomorrow she may be…"
"Dead," Ginny filled in.
"Maybe, or maybe just back to the same. Don't trouble yourself."
"It's troubling, Lucius."
"You know you're all I care about."
"First of all, no I don't. Second of all, I shouldn't be."
He gave her a long look, arms still around her, and despite all the confusion, she took quiet delight in the streak of sunburn across his pale nose. He was becoming so much more human to her than ever before.
"I need to get up," he said under his breath, and she stood. He kissed her on the forehead.
"Until tomorrow," he said, leaving her behind.
Lucius had troubled himself with all that talk. In the moment, with the last vestiges of alcohol clinging to him, it had been the truth, and the simplest thing to do with the truth is speak it. But of course that causes problems, it always does. And there was a second truth too, the truth that the hint of improvement from Narcissa had made his heart lift, and that he thought, fleetingly, of everything returning to normal.
Ginny was terrified. After Lucius left she just laid down on the floor, letting the cool wood soothe her. Dusk was settling outside, and she watched the changing light shift across the planks. All he cared about? If that was true, why wasn't he there?
Easing into bed next to Narcissa, he felt the security that came from all those years of closeness. She sighed and moved closer to him, and for a moment, he forgot about everything. It could be 15 years ago, when they were happy and the world was at peace and Draco was young and sweet.
Ginny cocooned herself in the comforter, trying every trick in the book to fall asleep. Finally, deep breathing got her there, and she was lost in a dream.
Tom was there, he was always there. And they were standing in her flat with Luna, who was stacking pies up to the ceiling, constantly pulling them from the oven with her bare hands. Tom took Ginny's hand and moved her to the sofa, and they sat as if on an awkward first date.
"You thought he could help you?" he asked.
"He knows you better than anyone."
"Oh no he doesn't. That's you. You know me best of all; maybe it's time to accept it."
Ginny turned her head back to the kitchen, desperately wanting Luna to save her. But Luna didn't look at them, as if she had no idea that they were there at all.
"So what am I supposed to do?"
"Don't trust men like me to help you, Ginny. Don't you know that by now?"
Lucius had never lost control of himself like this before. Even throughout the wars, through the years when he was lying to everyone about his allegiances, and through the time when he told his wife and son that he had changed, he had always kept everything privately calculated to get the exact results he hoped for. Emotions had never ruled him, and never before had they controlled his actions so closely.
So now, he realized as he lay there next to Narcissa, stroking her hair in the morning light, it was time to wreck it all; that was the only bit of control he had left.
Ginny was still in her cocoon when he came, thrashing as she flitted in and out of sleep. He sat down next to her, and felt his heart jump into his throat seeing her so obviously distressed from another dream.
"Wake up, Ginevra," he said, "I want to show you something."
She stirred and sat up on her elbows, looking at him in a daze.
"I had another dream," she croaked through dry lips.
"I can see that."
"What is it?" She looked to the box he was holding, which was made of fine wood and sealed with a massive lock. Strange energy seemed to be coming from it.
"You have to promise me one thing, can you?"
"What is it?"
"You have to promise first. There's no way I'll open this box unless you agree to this."
All she wanted to do was sit in the shower for about an hour, and then get back in bed. This box held no interest to her.
"Fine, I promise."
"Good. The condition is this: do not touch what is in this box. Do you hear me? Don't touch it."
Then she understood, and her pulse spiked.
"This is what Narcissa touched."
"Yes."
"Show me."
He tapped the box with his wand, and the lock fell away. Ginny sat up straighter, now wide awake and past her dream, and with a deep breath he lifted the lid.
She saw what it was and first she gasped, hands flying to her mouth. Then, as he had predicted, one hand drew away and moved to the object, desperate for just one touch….
