Disclaimer: Once again, characters and places herein belong to J.K. Rowling, with the exception of Marigold.
She woke when she heard crying. It was loud and insistent, like that of a child. She lifted her hand to rub the sleep from her eyes and found it intertwined with Draco's. Shaking herself mentally, she looked down to find that much of him was wrapped around her. He'd evidently curled up to her in his sleep, and they were pressed together like spoons in a silverware drawer. Her gaze followed the hand that held hers up into the arm that was draped possessively over her waist. One of his legs was wedged between hers, in a position that looked like it would feel uncomfortable, but wasn't hurting her a bit.
If it hadn't been for the crying, she wouldn't have even thought about waking him up. She felt guilty about it, as she had for dreaming about him, but she wasn't going to give up on whatever this new feeling was just because the timing was inconvenient. Convincing Draco to give this a chance was going to be much more difficult that she cared to imagine. She liked to think that him curling up to her in his sleep meant more than just him wanting to cuddle a warm body. Unfortunately, the crying wasn't stopping. She moved a little, hoping he would wake up.
"Draco?" She said.
"Shh..." He murmured and snuggled closer, pushing his lips against her neck, causing her to shiver.
"Draco, someone's crying."
His eyelids lifted and he sprang back from her as if she were on fire, angry that his body had betrayed him in sleep. Angry that she was so trusting of him that she saw no threat in his closeness.
"What?" He demanded.
"Someone is crying," she repeated.
He wasn't sure how he'd missed it at first. It was so loud the room practically vibrated with it.
"Stay here, I'll take care of it," he ordered. "And for Pete's sake, put on some damned pants."
He stormed out of the room leaving behind a bewildered Ginny.
"What in the hell is going on here?" She wondered aloud. After climbing out of bed and rooting about in her trunk for pants, she walked briskly and soundlessly out the door. She wasn't going to wait around for some half-assed answer. She was going to go see for herself.
It wasn't exactly difficult to follow Draco. He was running, but he was also making an inordinate amount of noise tripping over things in the dimly lit hallways.
Draco stopped in front of a large pair of French doors and took a key from above the door frame. He proceeded to unlock the door and walk inside.
Ginny cautiously slid over to the doors, which were conveniently open just a crack. Looking through the small space, she was something which she never would have expected.
The room was pale pink, with hundreds of toys. They were toys she'd seen muggle children playing with quite frequently. The dolls didn't seem quite as real as the ones she had played with as a child. There were no quills, only pencils and pens mixed amid crayons on a small writing desk.
In the middle of the sea of indulgence was a white canopy bed, with fluffy and frilly pink bed clothes. Draco was sitting on the side of the bed, rocking a small girl. Her hair was blond, but so pale it looked silvery white, like the hair of the man holding her. He murmured broken reassurances in the child's ear, much as he had done for Ginny earlier. He hadn't felt like a father then, but he certainly looked the part now. Eventually the violent sobbing abated, and the girl turned to him.
"Who is the woman by the door, Father?"
Ginny shrunk away from the door, hoping that by miracle Draco would pay no heed to his daughter's words. She already felt bad enough for following him, she didn't need censure in front of the child to add to her guilt.
"Just a friend, ma petite," he reassured her. "Just a friend."
His voice changed then, because harder, sharper and authoritarian in nature. "Ginny, were you planning on skulking about outside the door or actually entering the room?"
She hesitated a moment, then opened the doors and stepped into the room. Her body stiffened as if it wanted to prepare itself for any assault, physical or verbal that lay past the entrance.
"A friend?" The child queried. "Like Uncle Neville?"
"Yes," Draco replied. His voice softened when he spoke to the child, as if making a conscious effort to cage his temper when he spoke to his daughter. He down at the small girl though, just stared at Ginny, trying to his eyes telegraph to her how angry he was, rather than how hurt he was that she hadn't trusted him. He paused a moment, and hid his feelings behind a wall of love for his daughter, then looked down at her.
"Marigold, this is Aunt Ginny."
Her pale silver eyes examined Ginny from the safety of her father's arms.
"I'm sorry I woke you Aunt Ginny," she said apologetically. While Marigold appeared to be only three or four years old, her words were crisp and clear, suggesting that the child was much older than she looked.
"You didn't wake me at all," Ginny replied soothingly.
"I think you're lying," Marigold observed shrewdly. "Your eyes still have sleep in them, although you look like you still need sleep."
"Regardless," Draco cut in. "We're all awake now."
Marigold paid him no heed.
"Why didn't you sleep, then?," she asked Ginny. "Did you have a nightmare too?"
Ginny didn't answer, just watched Draco who was beginning to get visibly irritated, rather than just being cold to her. Unless she was very mistaken, he was going to blow his top fairly quickly.
"It doesn't look like any of us will be getting to bed soon. Perhaps a cup of cocoa will calm our nerves," she offered.
"Do you usually have cocoa to get rid of nightmares?" Marigold asked.
"It usually helps me sleep," Ginny replied, carefully avoiding the question.
"Oh," Marigold said with disappointment. "I'm not the least bit tired. Isn't there something else?"
Ginny was about to suggest listening to the WWN as she and Neville had done when they needed calming down, but stopped when she saw Draco mouth something at her. She cocked her head and stared at him, momentarily forgetting that Marigold was in the room as she tried to discern what he was attempting to tell her. His face had lost the cold look and at least that was something.
"No magic," he said to her soundlessly.
Well, that certainly put a damper on the WWN. She wasn't daunted by this though. Muggle Studies had been one of her best classes, and it didn't take long for her to find something nonmagical a small girl would enjoy.
"Let's have a slumber party, then."
Both Draco and Marigold looked at her skeptically. Draco rolled his eyes, and Marigold looked confused.
"You know, paint each others nails, do each others hair, that sort of thing."
"I've never done that before..." Said the little girl, as she looked up at her father expectantly. It was quite obvious that she liked the idea, but was looking for her father's approval.
"Hurrah," Draco said flatly.
"I'll go get my traveling case."
"I'll help her," Draco told his daughter as he slipped from the bed and followed Ginny out of the room.
She woke when she heard crying. It was loud and insistent, like that of a child. She lifted her hand to rub the sleep from her eyes and found it intertwined with Draco's. Shaking herself mentally, she looked down to find that much of him was wrapped around her. He'd evidently curled up to her in his sleep, and they were pressed together like spoons in a silverware drawer. Her gaze followed the hand that held hers up into the arm that was draped possessively over her waist. One of his legs was wedged between hers, in a position that looked like it would feel uncomfortable, but wasn't hurting her a bit.
If it hadn't been for the crying, she wouldn't have even thought about waking him up. She felt guilty about it, as she had for dreaming about him, but she wasn't going to give up on whatever this new feeling was just because the timing was inconvenient. Convincing Draco to give this a chance was going to be much more difficult that she cared to imagine. She liked to think that him curling up to her in his sleep meant more than just him wanting to cuddle a warm body. Unfortunately, the crying wasn't stopping. She moved a little, hoping he would wake up.
"Draco?" She said.
"Shh..." He murmured and snuggled closer, pushing his lips against her neck, causing her to shiver.
"Draco, someone's crying."
His eyelids lifted and he sprang back from her as if she were on fire, angry that his body had betrayed him in sleep. Angry that she was so trusting of him that she saw no threat in his closeness.
"What?" He demanded.
"Someone is crying," she repeated.
He wasn't sure how he'd missed it at first. It was so loud the room practically vibrated with it.
"Stay here, I'll take care of it," he ordered. "And for Pete's sake, put on some damned pants."
He stormed out of the room leaving behind a bewildered Ginny.
"What in the hell is going on here?" She wondered aloud. After climbing out of bed and rooting about in her trunk for pants, she walked briskly and soundlessly out the door. She wasn't going to wait around for some half-assed answer. She was going to go see for herself.
It wasn't exactly difficult to follow Draco. He was running, but he was also making an inordinate amount of noise tripping over things in the dimly lit hallways.
Draco stopped in front of a large pair of French doors and took a key from above the door frame. He proceeded to unlock the door and walk inside.
Ginny cautiously slid over to the doors, which were conveniently open just a crack. Looking through the small space, she was something which she never would have expected.
The room was pale pink, with hundreds of toys. They were toys she'd seen muggle children playing with quite frequently. The dolls didn't seem quite as real as the ones she had played with as a child. There were no quills, only pencils and pens mixed amid crayons on a small writing desk.
In the middle of the sea of indulgence was a white canopy bed, with fluffy and frilly pink bed clothes. Draco was sitting on the side of the bed, rocking a small girl. Her hair was blond, but so pale it looked silvery white, like the hair of the man holding her. He murmured broken reassurances in the child's ear, much as he had done for Ginny earlier. He hadn't felt like a father then, but he certainly looked the part now. Eventually the violent sobbing abated, and the girl turned to him.
"Who is the woman by the door, Father?"
Ginny shrunk away from the door, hoping that by miracle Draco would pay no heed to his daughter's words. She already felt bad enough for following him, she didn't need censure in front of the child to add to her guilt.
"Just a friend, ma petite," he reassured her. "Just a friend."
His voice changed then, because harder, sharper and authoritarian in nature. "Ginny, were you planning on skulking about outside the door or actually entering the room?"
She hesitated a moment, then opened the doors and stepped into the room. Her body stiffened as if it wanted to prepare itself for any assault, physical or verbal that lay past the entrance.
"A friend?" The child queried. "Like Uncle Neville?"
"Yes," Draco replied. His voice softened when he spoke to the child, as if making a conscious effort to cage his temper when he spoke to his daughter. He down at the small girl though, just stared at Ginny, trying to his eyes telegraph to her how angry he was, rather than how hurt he was that she hadn't trusted him. He paused a moment, and hid his feelings behind a wall of love for his daughter, then looked down at her.
"Marigold, this is Aunt Ginny."
Her pale silver eyes examined Ginny from the safety of her father's arms.
"I'm sorry I woke you Aunt Ginny," she said apologetically. While Marigold appeared to be only three or four years old, her words were crisp and clear, suggesting that the child was much older than she looked.
"You didn't wake me at all," Ginny replied soothingly.
"I think you're lying," Marigold observed shrewdly. "Your eyes still have sleep in them, although you look like you still need sleep."
"Regardless," Draco cut in. "We're all awake now."
Marigold paid him no heed.
"Why didn't you sleep, then?," she asked Ginny. "Did you have a nightmare too?"
Ginny didn't answer, just watched Draco who was beginning to get visibly irritated, rather than just being cold to her. Unless she was very mistaken, he was going to blow his top fairly quickly.
"It doesn't look like any of us will be getting to bed soon. Perhaps a cup of cocoa will calm our nerves," she offered.
"Do you usually have cocoa to get rid of nightmares?" Marigold asked.
"It usually helps me sleep," Ginny replied, carefully avoiding the question.
"Oh," Marigold said with disappointment. "I'm not the least bit tired. Isn't there something else?"
Ginny was about to suggest listening to the WWN as she and Neville had done when they needed calming down, but stopped when she saw Draco mouth something at her. She cocked her head and stared at him, momentarily forgetting that Marigold was in the room as she tried to discern what he was attempting to tell her. His face had lost the cold look and at least that was something.
"No magic," he said to her soundlessly.
Well, that certainly put a damper on the WWN. She wasn't daunted by this though. Muggle Studies had been one of her best classes, and it didn't take long for her to find something nonmagical a small girl would enjoy.
"Let's have a slumber party, then."
Both Draco and Marigold looked at her skeptically. Draco rolled his eyes, and Marigold looked confused.
"You know, paint each others nails, do each others hair, that sort of thing."
"I've never done that before..." Said the little girl, as she looked up at her father expectantly. It was quite obvious that she liked the idea, but was looking for her father's approval.
"Hurrah," Draco said flatly.
"I'll go get my traveling case."
"I'll help her," Draco told his daughter as he slipped from the bed and followed Ginny out of the room.