Thank you:

m.white, DMalfoysMistress (You got the book! That is so great! I'm glad you like both the story and my fic so far. *Grins*), Archer (I hope you can somehow get your hands on the book, because I highly recommend it. Yes, a movie has been made. Don't watch it without a barf bag), Nupil, NiMiBabe, ArrA, Majestyic, stormyfire, babooshka, hpangel, Manissetan (The book is called 'Corelli's Mandolin' by Louis DeBernieres. I definitely recommend it). Lady-Nimoe, draicana, Lara, Draco-lover, depth, organyaelf, Alex Mueller ('wet dreams' … oh, that made me laugh! Thanks!), Demonstar, BexChick05, Nicole, diana, Derae Johnstone, Minerva, JoyNspirit, Jill Sundby

Chapter 6: The First Rainfall

They arrived the next morning.

Disgustedly, Draco watched the small boat tip precariously on the exuberant waves of the sea before it docked itself onto the sandy shore of the beach.

He remained wordless from the moment the first visitor's foot touched the sand on the island, to the time he and his fellow Death Eaters accompanied the group of women up to Ron and Hermione's lodge at the bottom of the hill.

Amory had kept his word, and because of this, the other Death Eaters had been so ignorantly distracted that they had neglected to even ask Amory why Richard Lestranges had never returned from that walk.

But Draco knew. He studied the women  – and had no trouble noticing the tension and nerves that emitted from their high-pitched laughter.

" Amory, my man!" he heard somebody's voice boom. Draco turned to see Amory a few feet away being embraced like a brother by another Death Eater he recognized as another old friend of his Lucius'. " Where did you find such beautiful creatures?" Draco heard this man ask Amory in a congratulatory way.

Draco screwed up his face to fight his disgust. This man just so happened to have a wife and three daughters back in England. He felt as though he was suddenly very far away from the others, and was watching the scene of prostitutes and Death Eaters mingle with each other flicker before him rather than being an actual part of it.

Draco also felt uneasy being in the lodge, because ever since he'd discovered the place had once belonged to Ron and Hermione, he'd felt nauseous to step inside. He could almost feel their presence taking up every room, and the vision of the baby crib that was supposed to someday hold the child growing inside Hermione refused to leave his brain.

He had not wanted to come to the lodge to begin with, but his father had insisted he do so. Lucius had been noticing the way his son kept his distance and often refused to be a part of the group – and he knew Draco should retain his position as a prominent figure within the group for the good of his future.

Draco followed the other Death Eaters back to the lodge wordlessly, concentrating on the ground beneath his feet. He would never speak to them, he thought. He would never associate himself with any of these women.

* * * * *

The first rainfall of Incolumisa occurred the following day. Ginny watched from her cottage window as large droplets splattered the window and fell from the silver sky to replenish the thirsty grass on her lawn.

From the kitchen, the sounds of two needles clicking from the study could be heard, corresponding with tip-tap of the rain hitting the cottage roof.

Ginny found herself liking the rain that day. Perhaps it was more fitting in their tense atmosphere. The previous night, when the three of them had come back from the river, they'd eaten without much to say. Draco had proceeded up the stairs, and neither girl had seen him since.

The morning was passing slowly, and Ginny felt lazy. She considered writing another letter to Harry, but after days and days of doing so and piling her unsent affections on her desk, she's grown tired and hopeless. Although much time had passed since the Death Eaters had come, any rescue attempts were unheard of.

Hermione entered the kitchen. She looked bothered and preoccupied.

" What's up?" Ginny asked, turning her attention away from the rain-covered windowpane to her friend.

Hermione frowned. " Well, I'm upset because I seem to have a finished darning all of my yarn, but the quilt is much too small to be finished. And I just realized I have more yarn at home." She seated herself beside Ginny at the table. " I've put all my knitting supplies in the nursery …"

Ginny looked down at the table, trying to suppress her sadness at the thought of the nursery Hermione and Ron had created for the baby. She distinctly remembered helping Ron paint the crib, only to have the paint spill all over her brand new sweater. They'd laughed and argued and drank sour lemonade … it pained Ginny to think about that day.

" I suppose I could simply make socks out of them instead." Hermione said, snapping Ginny back to the present.

" Oh, Hermione … I'm sorry."

Hermione shrugged. " Well, for now, I don't have knitting to keep me busy anymore. I suppose I should find something else to do." She stood and headed back to the office, but stopped short halfway there.

" What?" Ginny asked.

Hermione let out a sigh. " I was just thinking … if only I had my copy of Hogwarts, A History to read right now."

The remainder of the day dragged on. Rain continued to drum its fingers gently on the cottage rooftop. Ginny had moved from the kitchen table to the sofa and was reading a month-old issue of Witch Weekly.

Hermione, however, seemed restless. Ginny offered various books of hers, yet Hermione either declined, or began to read it but put it down right away. Having been cooped up in the study for so many days with her needles, it seemed Hermione was unfamiliar with any other task, besides eating, which Ginny noticed she was getting quite good at.

Ginny tried to concentrate on the words of the magazine but all she saw was Hermione in the corner of her eye, sitting in the chair beside the sofa, doing nothing but fiddling her fingers, the very fingers now devoid of knitting needles.

As much as she tried to ignore it, Hermione fingers refused to stop. Finally, Ginny set down her magazine. " Hermione, why don't you go take a nap or something? I'll bet you're pretty tired."

Hermione continued to fiddle her fingers. She looked at Ginny curiously. " Alright, alright. I'm sorry I'm being a bother," she said, and stood up and headed for the study. She let out a sigh then disappeared behind the door.

Ginny was about the pick up her magazine, but desisted. Instead she arose from the sofa.

She grabbed her red cloak from closet by the door and her wand from the kitchen counter, and then stepped outside, shutting and locking the door firmly. She walked up the pathway, and veiled her head with the hood of her cloak. Raindrops bit her cloak and her face as she quickly made her way down the hill towards Hermione's lodge.

By the time she reached it, her cloak was splattered and her shoes muddy. From the outside, the lodge seemed as deathly quiet as every other house on the street. She walked up the slimy walkway, careful not to slip, and approached the door.

" Alohamora." The door clicked open and Ginny pushed past it into the dry front hall. She unveiled her hood and shut the door behind her with a light thud. Then she looked around.

There was something different about the house, and suddenly, Ginny felt a pinch of fear within her. She looked around, noticing certain items were missing. It seemed the house had been stripped of its character and warmth.

Knitting needles … upstairs, she told herself. She approached the staircase and began climbing up, noticing the absence of photographs on the walls.

" Hey, why are you wet?"

Ginny screamed. She turned around to face a man she'd never seen before in her life, looking her way. Bewildered, she opened her mouth but said nothing.

" You okay?" he asked, stepping forward. Ginny noticed there was very little consideration in his voice. In fact, his tone was rather greasy. His eyes were dark and shallow rather than warm. There was slight stubble adorning his chin. " You wanna come with me, dear?"

Ginny plunged her hand into her sleeve to grab her wand when she heard a second voice behind the man. " Hey Devan! Devan, c'mere! We're on the radio." The voice sounded slurred, as though drunk. Ginny shifted her eyes quickly to the liquor cabinet by the foot of the stairs, noting it had indeed been emptied.

The man who had approached Ginny gave her a wink, to which she grimaced at. He leaned against the doorframe.

" Turn it up!" he told them. He didn't seem to want to let Ginny slip away.

Somebody in the kitchen obliged. The radio volume was put up so high that Ginny heard it clearly from where she was. It was the WWN news being broadcast.

" The whereabouts of the Dark Lord's supporters, known as 'Death Eaters', remain unknown to the public. Inquiries from the Ministry suggest they plan to strike when the wizarding community least expects it."

The announcement was followed by a multitude of derisive laughter. Devan laughed as well, leaning forward towards the kitchen to say something to his fellow Death Eaters. Ginny took his preoccupation as an opportunity to run up the stairs. Clearly, there were more than two men – Death Eaters – in that room. Hardly thinking, fear clenching her insides, she opened the first door on her right – the nursery.

She opened the door and was greeted by another person in black robes. She felt her heart jump up into her throat as the figure turn around at the sound of the door opening

Never had Ginny been so relieved, or even remotely happy for that matter, to see Draco Malfoy. She shut the door quickly.

" What are you doing here?" they both asked at the same time.

Ginny held up your hand, suddenly angry. " First of all, what are you Death Eaters doing here? In this home?"
Draco's feet did not move from his position. He had been standing next to the crib and there was a book in his hand.

" It was deserted when they found it. So they took it."

Ginny opened her mouth to say something but he quickly interrupted, " I know whose lodge it is."

She let out a short, nervous exhale and looked at Draco carefully, suddenly at a loss for words.

" What are you doing here, then?" he asked her. His facial features suddenly grew taut. " Did anyone see you come in?" He turned his body to face her and Ginny saw beneath his open black robes was a regular black shirt and slacks.

Ginny slipped her hand into sleeves to touch her wand for reassurance, then spoke up. " I came to fetch something. But, gee, I didn't think the place would be swarming with Death Eaters," she told him, partly sarcastic, mostly angry. She began to move the wand and slide it between her fingers. " And yes, someone saw me by the door. But I think he was so drunk he didn't even seem surprised to see me."

Draco turned away and let out a curse beneath his breath. " Cry 'sakes, Weasley, he thought you were a prostitute!"

" Wha - !" Ginny twisted her face in fury, then quickly glanced down at her clothes. She was completely covered from neck to toes. " What!?"

Draco hadn't meant to reveal that fact. He diverted the subject. " What the hell do you mean 'fetch something'? These people are capable of killing you, Weasley. You're and idiot to have left your home."

" Oh, isn't that nice," she remarked sarcastically, her temper beginning to rise. She withdrew her wand from her sleeve gripped it beneath her cloak. " First you call me a prostitute, and now I'm an idiot … you know, you really do have a way with people."

" Weasley, keep your voice down. You don't know what these people can do to you." He seemed calmer than her, more irritated.

" I am not afraid of you stupid Death Eaters," she lied defiantly. She wanted to look Draco straight in the eyes, but she found she couldn't. " And why in the world would anybody think I'm a – prostitute? What a terrible thing to say! You know you should –,"

" Hey, their thinking that just saved your life." He set his book down on the dresser and leaned against it. " You're not the only woman in this house."

There was silence as this information sunk into Ginny and the realization dawned on her: their lodge was harboring prostitutes.

She then looked up at Draco who was looking back intently. She'd found Draco alone … in a secluded room. Surely he couldn't have been reading a book for real? If there were women walking around the house giving pleasure to the men who needed it, surely that included Draco?

" You people disgust me," she said quietly. " Especially you, Malfoy."

" Stop while you're ahead. If you weren't so stubborn you'd actually get it through your skull that  we're not all the same. Those Death Eaters out there … are not me."

Ginny found herself looking around the room for the first time upon her entering it. The crib remained half-painted, sitting in the middle of the room, placed there to ensure that the morning sunlight from the window would shine directly upon it.

There was a creak outside on the landing, bringing her back to her senses. She turned to face the door and gripped her wand. Suddenly, a familiar slurred voice spoke on the other side of the door.

" Hey … red-haired girl …" she heard the voice distinctly call. " My sweet red-head, where are you?"

Ginny found herself backing away from the door. She withdrew her wand hand from out of her robes and backed up slowly until she hit something solid – Draco.

" Sorry," she muttered when she trod on his foot. He said nothing and all she felt was his chest move with his breathing against her back. She moved forward slightly.

" My scarlet-headed princess!" the voice called, and Ginny knew it was nearer. There were four doors on the upstairs landing. She heard each door opening then slamming shut.

The first door slammed shut, then the second.

" This is the room they always avoid when they can," muttered Draco.

The third door slammed, and the creaking grew loud once again. " Red-head?" The voice was directly on the other side of the door. Ginny gripped her wand tightly.

Suddenly, the next few things that happened occurred so fast, Ginny hardly had time to process anything.

She felt a force twisting her body around, and a split second the door to the nursery flung open, Draco had swooped down and pressed his lips to hers, sustaining their contact, running his lips around hers.

" Oh, excuse me …" It was Devan, the stubble-ridden Death Eater. Draco suddenly broke apart from her, acting as bewildered as if Devan had caught them in the midst of passion. Ginny felt completely numb, all she could do was turn to her head to face the drunken Death Eater.

" Red-head! Why, there you are …" Devan laughed stupidly. " Well, Malfoy, I'll be! You usually don't seem enthusiastic about the young ladies in our home."

Ginny stared at the man in disgust, trying with difficulty to hide her disdain.

Devan laughed again. " Well, then again, you are a man. And what a fine choice you have here… " He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Ginny felt a pang of anger, yet she sustained it. If she remained quiet, she might get out of the situation alive.

" Well, Devan," said Draco, and Ginny was surprised at how his tone of voice had changed from serious to slick and greasy. " If you would be kind enough to, er, excuse us. We would like to be alone." She felt Draco put his arms around her waist.

The drunken Devan smirked and shut the door, leaving Ginny's heart pounding in her throat. She quickly moved away from Draco and he let her go just as immediately.

Ginny hadn't the slightest clue why, but her face was growing steadily hotter. She turned to the window and approached it. Rain was running down on the other side of the glass, and she heaved it open, getting her hands wet.

" Go through the back yards, and run back home," said Draco. His voice was back to normal again – he sounded indifferent.

Ginny nodded, her mind buzzing. She lifted her leg onto the windowsill to climb out, when out of the corner of her mind she thought of Hermione … and then the knitting needles she had come here for. Now that Ginny was there, it seemed so long ago that she had left the house on her foolish quest. Part of her wished she'd never come as she turned, approached the dresser, and absently grabbed Hermione's knitting supplies.

Ginny glanced at Draco on her way back to the windowsill, and she saw with surprise that he was looking right back at her, his eyes narrowed.

She had no way of telling whether he was worried or angry; probably, it was the latter. Or was it both?

" Thank you," she muttered, feeling heat rise up to her face.

When Draco said nothing, Ginny took it as a sign to get out of the house as quickly as possible … and she did just that. She climbed out of the window, drawing up her hood to detract the downpour.

She climbed down the side of the house, then quickly took the route through the backyards of the adjacent houses up the hill.

She recalled the few minutes she'd spent in Hermione and Ron's lodge – once a haven of safety, now a billet of Death Eaters. The Death Eaters were so … sick, hidden behind their white masks, curtained by their facades as respectable wizards. She thought of the drunken man. Where had his life gone wrong? What had caused him to run around a house chasing after a girl he thought was some random redheaded whore?

And where did Draco Malfoy fit into all this? It seemed as though he was the one thing that blurred the heavy distinction between good and evil. Perhaps he had been right, Ginny thought bitterly, as though annoyed at such a thought. She classified everybody into either group and never thought to consider any ambivalence within the conflicting elements of good and evil.

Recalling Draco's words brought that entire night back to Ginny's memory. It'd been warm outside; unlike the cold, wet day it was today. He'd told her off for her stubbornness and disbelief in his claim that all Death Eaters were 'not the same'. It was so dark … their faces were so close …

Ginny widened her eyes and shook her head forcefully. How did such a thought even go into her head? They'd been in a tight space that night. And it was dark.

But what about today? a voice asked, coming from some deep, dark corner within Ginny's mind. She and Draco had not been in any form of a tight space. They'd had the whole room to each other. Yet they were so close … their lips touched …

Ginny had to laugh at herself now – aloud. Of course, how could she forget that if he had not kissed her, she'd be dead? He had saved her by kissing her, he had.

Let's not think about this anymore. Ginny tried to focus on the mushy ground beneath her feet instead as she continued up the hill.
She clutched Hermione's knitting supplies and shuddered as her hair caught raindrops and they rolled down her neck.

* * * * *

Rain continued to stream down the other side of the glass window. Draco had shut it as soon as he saw Ginny's red cloak disappear from sight.

He neglected the book he'd been reading earlier and seated himself on the drafty carpeted floor. The air was thick with humidity and tension.

Draco wanted to feel as indifferent as he'd acted. Ginny had blushed furiously, he noticed, and rushed out of the window.

The temperamental, childlike innocence of Ginny had made him feel obligated to help and protect her. He was immediately sickened at this thought and screwed up his face. It wasn't as though he was turning his back on the Death Eaters, he reasoned. He'd grown up around these men, and was fairly comfortable in their presence. He was also rather indifferent to the deaths of those he did not know well. Draco laid his hand on the cold carpet and frowned. Why should he care about strangers dying? As long as he never knew them and had no involvement in their death, he was apathetic towards the idea.

But Ginny. He knew her – at least he did slightly. He'd gone to school with her, and sitting there on the floor at 22 years old, he still distinctly remembered teasing her at Hogwarts.

Just that day, she'd looked at him with anxious eyes. A man had stood at the door, one who was capable of taking more than her life.

It was no lie that he hated to see her so scared and upset (though he did not care to admit such a thing). He thought of Devan, so foolishly chasing Ginny, and imagined what would've happened had she not come into this room. He closed his eyes and shook his head, not wanting to think of such an ugly idea.

So it was a good thing that he'd kissed her. He had saved her life. Draco sneered, though obviously nobody saw him, as he was alone. He grew complacent at his justifying this kiss.

He'd only done it to save her life, after all.

* * * * *

A/N: I'm really not confident with this weird ending. I just wanted to upload this chapter because I'd had it partially finished for ages. I promise to have the next chapter up sooner!