Legend
Chapter XXI: Linked
by Marie McKinnon
As predicted, the next morning a red envelope landed in front of Ginny. An identical one had been placed on Draco's plate. Their eyes met, and they slit the Howlers open at the same time.
"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL? HOW MANY TIMES? DID YOU EVER THINK TO LISTEN TO US? NO, YOU DIDN'T! WE ALWAYS WARNED YOU OF THE MALFOYS AND OF GETTING INVOLVED WITH THEM, BUT THE FIRST I HEAR OF YOUR ROMANCES, IT'S ONE OF THEM!" Arthur Weasley's voice was nearly as strong as Molly's in his violent dislike of the Malfoys. Remaining completely indifferent, she buttered two pieces of toast and began to munch on them while he ranted.
Lucius' stern bellow mingled with Arthur's shouts. "I AM MOST SEVERELY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. IF YOU NEEDED A LADY FRIEND TO CARRY AROUND ON YOUR ARM TO SOCIAL GATHERINGS AT HOME, I WOULD HELP YOU MAKE THE DECISION, BUT F***ING THAT WEASLEY SLUT IS UNNACCEPTABLE! IT'S DEGRADING TO BE IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS THE WEASLEYS, BUT TO BE PERSONALLY INVOLVED WITH ONE OF THEM IS EVEN WORSE. I FORBID YOU TO GO NEAR HER." He too seemed not to hear the harangue blaring into the Great Hall, though it continued for the better part of a minute.
"Ginny? Are you all right?" Hermione asked. There was no response. Several more pleas for her to speak were made, but the fifth year stayed silent. Losing her temper, Hermione smacked her neighbor across the shoulder.
"What was that for?" She demanded irately after pulling an earplug out of each ear.
Hermione looked sheepish. "You wouldn't respond."
"I did what I said I would do. Even Mum's voice can't get through earplugs."
"That was your dad's voice," she corrected.
Ginny smiled in triumph. "My point exactly."
*
~No candles shone in the Great Hall. At the High Table, where Dumbledore usually sat, a hooded and cloaked figure hid itself in the darkness. She stood alone, confident, but hoped for aid from the other trio members. The shadowy figure's head was raised, and two livid eyes leered at her from behind the hood's folds. "Morgana, come forward," it hissed.
Fear raced through her blood. He couldn't know. No one knew, except for Dumbledore, and he would never disclose such an important secret. A lump was growing in her throat, and when she tried, she couldn't speak. She couldn't move or summon up her magic. Cold sweat trickled down her back, bringing all of her hairs on end. Pinpoints of fright reached every millimeter of her skin, but she was unable to shiver them away. Her mind whirled, searching for some possible strategy and finding none.
"Yes, young one, I know your true name. My spies never lie, and you have been watched ever since you met the Malfoy boy."
Draco? Draco had betrayed her after she'd loved and trusted him? Even though her muscles were immobile, Ginny felt her heart break.
"Would you like to see him? I assume that's a yes," he cackled. From the wrinkles of cloth that swathed his emaciated form he brought a vacant-eyed head, wisps of silvery blond hair blocking the lifeless holes from sight. Draco's mouth hung open, his severed muscles lacking the strength or stubborness to hold it closed. Tears forced their way to her eyes, rebelling against the spell that had her petrified in place. "No, no, Morgana, he didn't betray you. You will never know who did, but you won't have enough time in your short life to worry about it. Avada Kedavra!"
"Draco!" Her mind shrieked, reaching for him though she was being told he was dead. "Draco, help!" She knew he couldn't possibly be dead, and knew he couldn't help her anyway, but the green flash was coming closer, and she was desperate. It hit, tearing the breath from her frozen lungs, separating the very life from her shell.~
She shot up in bed, her cry for help still resounding in her mind.
*
~Her russet hair tumbled down her shoulders onto a silky green button-down blouse. Everything about her stood out. The blouse was tailored to be slimmer at the waist, emphasising it, and her perfect legs were in crisp black trousers. He couldn't help himself; he put his arms around her silky soft waist, cherishing the texture, and bore her down onto the bed.
His kiss was hard and frantic, trying to capture her whole mouth at once. He was tangled in her hair, not noticing its difference from the silk of her blouse. Assaulting her mouth, he felt scorched, and raked the inside of it with his tongue repeatedly. She writhed under him, shivers making her tremble. His tongue was all over the inside of her mouth, deliberately sandpapering it and sending such extreme cold that she felt frozen despite the heat of the moment. He wanted her so badly that all of his control was gone. Slim fingers began unbuttoning her shirt, brushing her petal-soft skin underneath. She sat up to arch her back and allowed the blouse to slide into a silky pool on the bed. Kissing her once more, Draco's deft fingers slipped behind her to undo the black lace barrier, the last thing between him and her full, large breasts. His hands fumbled around them, reveling in the smooth, sturdy flesh and their perfect roundness. He groaned against her mouth in pleasure, feeling her tongue clean his teeth and gums, and took his hands, one on each breast, and made a cage of them. Her perfect skin was captured by splayed fingers that squeezed unrelentlessly. She arched her back in pain and ecstasy, molding her stomach and ribs against his already-bare torso, still caught in the iron grip of his mouth.
Reluctant to release her chest, Draco did so, pulling down hard on the skin over her ribs, stomach, and waist, as though he were trying to get all of the wrinkles out of her skin. It scorched him with such a powerful heat that it melded them together. Tongues grappling, his hand slid down into the top of her trousers. Without warning, a cry of "Draco! Draco, help!" sliced through the fabric of his mind, sending his erotic fantasy away with the early morning mist. ~
He rose quickly from the mass of tangled sheets enveloping him. The dream had been very realistic; his shirt had been thrown to the floor and his breathing was hard and fast. Faster still was the repetition of Ginny's plea. He knew it was Ginny's. Her voice seemed imprinted on his mind, as was the sound of her walking towards him and her scent. Without waiting for a second call, he reached out and demanded that his sword come to him instead of vice versa. His fingers closed around Fear's hilt almost before the silvery metal slammed into his palm.
Not bothering to put on a shirt, Draco leapt from his bed and raced up to Gryffindor Tower. His bare feet pounded on the cold stone floors, even colder now that it was the middle of the night. Icy midnight air wrapped itself around him and poured into his reluctant lungs. He finally skidded to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was sleeping.
After tapping her on the frame to wake her, he whispered "Authority's demise," hoping that the password hadn't been changed since then. He was lucky. The Fat Lady swung forwards sleepily, then shut quickly behind him. A fire in the hearth still burned, casting an unearthly light on the sole figure within its reach.
Rivulets of flame streamed down her back. Her head was buried in her hands, and he could tell that she was suppressing sobs that threatened to pour out in a relentless flood. She shivered in the cold, but her pale, bare skin glowed in the firelight. He noticed that she was breathing hard from the up and down motion of her ribs, and then realized, with a stab of pain in his abdomen that told him his body had realized too, that she was in her pajamas. What pajamas they were, he thought, swallowing an ecstatic moan. She wore only a sports bra and some shorts, proof of her poverty and inability to buy anything better, though the difference was lost on him. His mind reeled over her appearance, taking in every millimeter of bare skin that caught his attention.
Ginny was obviously too worked up to notice him, so he fought down the urge to run his hands over her back and shoulders and used the sarcastic tone of voice that everyone instantly connected with him. "You called?" He asked, halfway between bitterness and amusement.
Her head popped up like a jack-in-the-box, the corners of her eyes glistening from the tears she held back. "You're all right!" She whispered in relief, dashing over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, relishing the sensation of her usually-searing flesh, cooled by the icy air. Trembling from the effort of self-control, he buried his face in her smooth, soft hair and kissed the elegant curve of her neck. It took much more self-control to pull away and look her in the eye, but he did it.
"Of course I am," he murmured, brushing a curl away from her face. "Are you?"
In an attempt to nod, more tears spilled into her eyes, and she shivered. His arms folded around her protectively as they moved slowly back to the cushioned couch. She hiccoughed once, then fell silent, fiddling with her hands in her lap. Her back against his uncovered chest felt wonderful. If she hadn't been so distressed, she would have been staring at him covetously.
"Tell me what happened," he said quietly.
One word escaped her before any other. "Voldemort." It came out ragged and worn out with fear and hate, but it came, and brought with it the rest of her tale. "He knew all about the magic, and you, and he froze me. I couldn't move, couldn't do *anything.* And he said I'd been watched since I started going out with you, so I just fell. I thought you'd betrayed us. But then, then he-- he-- he--"
"It's all right. You can say it." His voice was soothing, though he hated to think what had terrified her so much that she was reluctant to say it.
"--he pulled out your head. It was dead, lifeless, I couldn't-- couldn't look, it was you, but not you, you're energetic, and it was dead. He said the Killing Curse, and I saw it coming closer, closer, I knew I'd die, but there was nothing I could do. I called for you, but then it hit, and I--"
"Died," he supplied gently. "What did you call?"
She looked askance at him, but replied. "I think it was 'Draco! Draco, help!' but I'm not sure."
"I heard you," he said slowly, trying to get himself to believe it. "In my mind. And if you couldn't speak in your dream, you shouted from your mind, too."
"We're linked," she responded. "It must be the d*** magic." A yawn escaped her mouth, and Draco smiled benevolently.
"I think somebody needs to go to bed," he whispered. She felt the movement of his lips by her ear, but wasn't distracted. She was so tired, she couldn't even reply. "Come on, I'll tuck you in." As he said it, he pulled her upright and helped her to her room. Seeing her asleep, the sole color amid the snowy white sheets, wrenched at his heart. Her usual confidence and stubbornness were gone, replaced by an angelic, gentle expression. Maybe it was because she was relaxed, maybe it was because she had let her guard down, but whatever it was, it added that bit of mortality that she seemed to lack. She shivered, but didn't pull up a blanket, and pushed it away when he tried to cover her with it.
Fine, then, he thought. I know another, better way to get you warm. After all, what's warmer than body heat? With such undisputable reasoning, it was obvious that he ought to get into bed with her, which he did. Using his last bit of strength to send Fear soaring back to his bedroom, he fell asleep with Ginny cradled in his arms.
Disclaimer: I don't know what possessed me to write this. It was probably Draco, seeing as he'd dearly love to do that. No proof, though, so you'll have to believe me when I tell you that most of the more inappropriate content suddenly appeared on my computer screen without my doing anything about it.
As predicted, the next morning a red envelope landed in front of Ginny. An identical one had been placed on Draco's plate. Their eyes met, and they slit the Howlers open at the same time.
"HOW MANY TIMES HAVE WE TOLD YOU TO BE CAREFUL? HOW MANY TIMES? DID YOU EVER THINK TO LISTEN TO US? NO, YOU DIDN'T! WE ALWAYS WARNED YOU OF THE MALFOYS AND OF GETTING INVOLVED WITH THEM, BUT THE FIRST I HEAR OF YOUR ROMANCES, IT'S ONE OF THEM!" Arthur Weasley's voice was nearly as strong as Molly's in his violent dislike of the Malfoys. Remaining completely indifferent, she buttered two pieces of toast and began to munch on them while he ranted.
Lucius' stern bellow mingled with Arthur's shouts. "I AM MOST SEVERELY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. IF YOU NEEDED A LADY FRIEND TO CARRY AROUND ON YOUR ARM TO SOCIAL GATHERINGS AT HOME, I WOULD HELP YOU MAKE THE DECISION, BUT F***ING THAT WEASLEY SLUT IS UNNACCEPTABLE! IT'S DEGRADING TO BE IN THE SAME COUNTRY AS THE WEASLEYS, BUT TO BE PERSONALLY INVOLVED WITH ONE OF THEM IS EVEN WORSE. I FORBID YOU TO GO NEAR HER." He too seemed not to hear the harangue blaring into the Great Hall, though it continued for the better part of a minute.
"Ginny? Are you all right?" Hermione asked. There was no response. Several more pleas for her to speak were made, but the fifth year stayed silent. Losing her temper, Hermione smacked her neighbor across the shoulder.
"What was that for?" She demanded irately after pulling an earplug out of each ear.
Hermione looked sheepish. "You wouldn't respond."
"I did what I said I would do. Even Mum's voice can't get through earplugs."
"That was your dad's voice," she corrected.
Ginny smiled in triumph. "My point exactly."
*
~No candles shone in the Great Hall. At the High Table, where Dumbledore usually sat, a hooded and cloaked figure hid itself in the darkness. She stood alone, confident, but hoped for aid from the other trio members. The shadowy figure's head was raised, and two livid eyes leered at her from behind the hood's folds. "Morgana, come forward," it hissed.
Fear raced through her blood. He couldn't know. No one knew, except for Dumbledore, and he would never disclose such an important secret. A lump was growing in her throat, and when she tried, she couldn't speak. She couldn't move or summon up her magic. Cold sweat trickled down her back, bringing all of her hairs on end. Pinpoints of fright reached every millimeter of her skin, but she was unable to shiver them away. Her mind whirled, searching for some possible strategy and finding none.
"Yes, young one, I know your true name. My spies never lie, and you have been watched ever since you met the Malfoy boy."
Draco? Draco had betrayed her after she'd loved and trusted him? Even though her muscles were immobile, Ginny felt her heart break.
"Would you like to see him? I assume that's a yes," he cackled. From the wrinkles of cloth that swathed his emaciated form he brought a vacant-eyed head, wisps of silvery blond hair blocking the lifeless holes from sight. Draco's mouth hung open, his severed muscles lacking the strength or stubborness to hold it closed. Tears forced their way to her eyes, rebelling against the spell that had her petrified in place. "No, no, Morgana, he didn't betray you. You will never know who did, but you won't have enough time in your short life to worry about it. Avada Kedavra!"
"Draco!" Her mind shrieked, reaching for him though she was being told he was dead. "Draco, help!" She knew he couldn't possibly be dead, and knew he couldn't help her anyway, but the green flash was coming closer, and she was desperate. It hit, tearing the breath from her frozen lungs, separating the very life from her shell.~
She shot up in bed, her cry for help still resounding in her mind.
*
~Her russet hair tumbled down her shoulders onto a silky green button-down blouse. Everything about her stood out. The blouse was tailored to be slimmer at the waist, emphasising it, and her perfect legs were in crisp black trousers. He couldn't help himself; he put his arms around her silky soft waist, cherishing the texture, and bore her down onto the bed.
His kiss was hard and frantic, trying to capture her whole mouth at once. He was tangled in her hair, not noticing its difference from the silk of her blouse. Assaulting her mouth, he felt scorched, and raked the inside of it with his tongue repeatedly. She writhed under him, shivers making her tremble. His tongue was all over the inside of her mouth, deliberately sandpapering it and sending such extreme cold that she felt frozen despite the heat of the moment. He wanted her so badly that all of his control was gone. Slim fingers began unbuttoning her shirt, brushing her petal-soft skin underneath. She sat up to arch her back and allowed the blouse to slide into a silky pool on the bed. Kissing her once more, Draco's deft fingers slipped behind her to undo the black lace barrier, the last thing between him and her full, large breasts. His hands fumbled around them, reveling in the smooth, sturdy flesh and their perfect roundness. He groaned against her mouth in pleasure, feeling her tongue clean his teeth and gums, and took his hands, one on each breast, and made a cage of them. Her perfect skin was captured by splayed fingers that squeezed unrelentlessly. She arched her back in pain and ecstasy, molding her stomach and ribs against his already-bare torso, still caught in the iron grip of his mouth.
Reluctant to release her chest, Draco did so, pulling down hard on the skin over her ribs, stomach, and waist, as though he were trying to get all of the wrinkles out of her skin. It scorched him with such a powerful heat that it melded them together. Tongues grappling, his hand slid down into the top of her trousers. Without warning, a cry of "Draco! Draco, help!" sliced through the fabric of his mind, sending his erotic fantasy away with the early morning mist. ~
He rose quickly from the mass of tangled sheets enveloping him. The dream had been very realistic; his shirt had been thrown to the floor and his breathing was hard and fast. Faster still was the repetition of Ginny's plea. He knew it was Ginny's. Her voice seemed imprinted on his mind, as was the sound of her walking towards him and her scent. Without waiting for a second call, he reached out and demanded that his sword come to him instead of vice versa. His fingers closed around Fear's hilt almost before the silvery metal slammed into his palm.
Not bothering to put on a shirt, Draco leapt from his bed and raced up to Gryffindor Tower. His bare feet pounded on the cold stone floors, even colder now that it was the middle of the night. Icy midnight air wrapped itself around him and poured into his reluctant lungs. He finally skidded to a halt in front of the Fat Lady, who was sleeping.
After tapping her on the frame to wake her, he whispered "Authority's demise," hoping that the password hadn't been changed since then. He was lucky. The Fat Lady swung forwards sleepily, then shut quickly behind him. A fire in the hearth still burned, casting an unearthly light on the sole figure within its reach.
Rivulets of flame streamed down her back. Her head was buried in her hands, and he could tell that she was suppressing sobs that threatened to pour out in a relentless flood. She shivered in the cold, but her pale, bare skin glowed in the firelight. He noticed that she was breathing hard from the up and down motion of her ribs, and then realized, with a stab of pain in his abdomen that told him his body had realized too, that she was in her pajamas. What pajamas they were, he thought, swallowing an ecstatic moan. She wore only a sports bra and some shorts, proof of her poverty and inability to buy anything better, though the difference was lost on him. His mind reeled over her appearance, taking in every millimeter of bare skin that caught his attention.
Ginny was obviously too worked up to notice him, so he fought down the urge to run his hands over her back and shoulders and used the sarcastic tone of voice that everyone instantly connected with him. "You called?" He asked, halfway between bitterness and amusement.
Her head popped up like a jack-in-the-box, the corners of her eyes glistening from the tears she held back. "You're all right!" She whispered in relief, dashing over to him and throwing her arms around his neck. He held her tightly, relishing the sensation of her usually-searing flesh, cooled by the icy air. Trembling from the effort of self-control, he buried his face in her smooth, soft hair and kissed the elegant curve of her neck. It took much more self-control to pull away and look her in the eye, but he did it.
"Of course I am," he murmured, brushing a curl away from her face. "Are you?"
In an attempt to nod, more tears spilled into her eyes, and she shivered. His arms folded around her protectively as they moved slowly back to the cushioned couch. She hiccoughed once, then fell silent, fiddling with her hands in her lap. Her back against his uncovered chest felt wonderful. If she hadn't been so distressed, she would have been staring at him covetously.
"Tell me what happened," he said quietly.
One word escaped her before any other. "Voldemort." It came out ragged and worn out with fear and hate, but it came, and brought with it the rest of her tale. "He knew all about the magic, and you, and he froze me. I couldn't move, couldn't do *anything.* And he said I'd been watched since I started going out with you, so I just fell. I thought you'd betrayed us. But then, then he-- he-- he--"
"It's all right. You can say it." His voice was soothing, though he hated to think what had terrified her so much that she was reluctant to say it.
"--he pulled out your head. It was dead, lifeless, I couldn't-- couldn't look, it was you, but not you, you're energetic, and it was dead. He said the Killing Curse, and I saw it coming closer, closer, I knew I'd die, but there was nothing I could do. I called for you, but then it hit, and I--"
"Died," he supplied gently. "What did you call?"
She looked askance at him, but replied. "I think it was 'Draco! Draco, help!' but I'm not sure."
"I heard you," he said slowly, trying to get himself to believe it. "In my mind. And if you couldn't speak in your dream, you shouted from your mind, too."
"We're linked," she responded. "It must be the d*** magic." A yawn escaped her mouth, and Draco smiled benevolently.
"I think somebody needs to go to bed," he whispered. She felt the movement of his lips by her ear, but wasn't distracted. She was so tired, she couldn't even reply. "Come on, I'll tuck you in." As he said it, he pulled her upright and helped her to her room. Seeing her asleep, the sole color amid the snowy white sheets, wrenched at his heart. Her usual confidence and stubbornness were gone, replaced by an angelic, gentle expression. Maybe it was because she was relaxed, maybe it was because she had let her guard down, but whatever it was, it added that bit of mortality that she seemed to lack. She shivered, but didn't pull up a blanket, and pushed it away when he tried to cover her with it.
Fine, then, he thought. I know another, better way to get you warm. After all, what's warmer than body heat? With such undisputable reasoning, it was obvious that he ought to get into bed with her, which he did. Using his last bit of strength to send Fear soaring back to his bedroom, he fell asleep with Ginny cradled in his arms.
Disclaimer: I don't know what possessed me to write this. It was probably Draco, seeing as he'd dearly love to do that. No proof, though, so you'll have to believe me when I tell you that most of the more inappropriate content suddenly appeared on my computer screen without my doing anything about it.