((A/n: From now on, I'll be having bits from both Draco and Ginny's
perspective in the same chapter. Therefore, the text will look like this
~*~*~*~*~*~
Ginny's POV
~*~*~*~*~*~
and
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
Draco's POV
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\))
((Gin: Glad you're enjoying it~_~
Dracos Gal: Sorry again about the chapter length, like I said, it's a bad habit of mine. I'll do my best, though, promise;)
Rita d.: Continuing. ..now!))
Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
Shaking his fur free of ash, Draco looked about him, realizing abruptly that he had never before seen this place, that so many of his enemies called home. It took a moment, however, before he remembered to infuse his face with the proper degree of contempt. He could almost hear his father noting the shabbiness of the furniture, remarking in a snide voice that the design was certainly 'quaint'. But Lucius Malfoy's voice was replaced, however briefly, by the thought that this might not, after all, be such an unpleasant place to spend the summer.
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
~*~*~*~*~*~
Stepping onto the kitchen's wooden floor, Ginny automatically looked up at the family clock. The golden hand with 'Ginny' engraved on it was pointing at 'home', next to 'Molly'. It was no surprise to see that 'Percy' was at work, but 'Bill' was there too, as he hadn't been able to get this summer off. Her father, the twins, Charlie, and Ron were listed as 'traveling', but she knew this was because the clock didn't have a spot marked 'zooming around the countryside on brooms attempting to catch and/or dodge variously colored and sized balls, otherwise known as Quidditch'. At least no one was in 'Mortal Peril', meaning her father had restricted the use of Bludgers.
"Mum?" she called out, peering into the next room.
"In the den, dear." She heard her mother reply. Turning, Ginny moved towards the voice, shifting the weight of Silver's cage onto her other arm as she did.
~*~*~*~*~*~
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
Lifting his head just slightly, Draco eyed Molly Weasley with interest as she came into view. After all, he justified, his father would want all the details of this. If he paid strict attention, a useful bit of information might present itself. Her hair and clothes were rumpled, he pointed out to himself. Just typical of the perpetually shabby Weasleys. At the loving look she turned on her daughter, however, he felt his objectivity drop. He caught himself wondering when HE'D last been looked at like that. Angrily, he let out a hiss. This was ridiculous! Narcissa Malfoy had better, more useful things to do than hang around coddling her children. Any time she spent 'loving' him was taken away from the Cause. He had to tell himself this very firmly, however, as he watched Mrs. Weasley hugging her daughter.
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
~*~*~*~*~*~
Ginny's POV
~*~*~*~*~*~
and
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
Draco's POV
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\))
((Gin: Glad you're enjoying it~_~
Dracos Gal: Sorry again about the chapter length, like I said, it's a bad habit of mine. I'll do my best, though, promise;)
Rita d.: Continuing. ..now!))
Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.
-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-~-
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
Shaking his fur free of ash, Draco looked about him, realizing abruptly that he had never before seen this place, that so many of his enemies called home. It took a moment, however, before he remembered to infuse his face with the proper degree of contempt. He could almost hear his father noting the shabbiness of the furniture, remarking in a snide voice that the design was certainly 'quaint'. But Lucius Malfoy's voice was replaced, however briefly, by the thought that this might not, after all, be such an unpleasant place to spend the summer.
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
~*~*~*~*~*~
Stepping onto the kitchen's wooden floor, Ginny automatically looked up at the family clock. The golden hand with 'Ginny' engraved on it was pointing at 'home', next to 'Molly'. It was no surprise to see that 'Percy' was at work, but 'Bill' was there too, as he hadn't been able to get this summer off. Her father, the twins, Charlie, and Ron were listed as 'traveling', but she knew this was because the clock didn't have a spot marked 'zooming around the countryside on brooms attempting to catch and/or dodge variously colored and sized balls, otherwise known as Quidditch'. At least no one was in 'Mortal Peril', meaning her father had restricted the use of Bludgers.
"Mum?" she called out, peering into the next room.
"In the den, dear." She heard her mother reply. Turning, Ginny moved towards the voice, shifting the weight of Silver's cage onto her other arm as she did.
~*~*~*~*~*~
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\
Lifting his head just slightly, Draco eyed Molly Weasley with interest as she came into view. After all, he justified, his father would want all the details of this. If he paid strict attention, a useful bit of information might present itself. Her hair and clothes were rumpled, he pointed out to himself. Just typical of the perpetually shabby Weasleys. At the loving look she turned on her daughter, however, he felt his objectivity drop. He caught himself wondering when HE'D last been looked at like that. Angrily, he let out a hiss. This was ridiculous! Narcissa Malfoy had better, more useful things to do than hang around coddling her children. Any time she spent 'loving' him was taken away from the Cause. He had to tell himself this very firmly, however, as he watched Mrs. Weasley hugging her daughter.
/\_/\_/\_/\_/\