A/N: So, how is everyone? I'm in deprivation... I can't dance so I shall write. I started reading Cold Mountain yesterday and it's really good so far and I've thought up a few ideas from reading. I'd recommend the book to anyone, especially people writing stories about lonely people and death. I'm going to quit droning on since I'm only sure two people are actually reading my worthless babble of a story. But thanks anyway, it means a lot!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything... and if it sucks blame the musicians for the reel music I'm listening to.

Chapter 4: The Chapter that doesn't have time for a title (If I was serious about my writing do you think more people would read it?)

"Do you recall the night before Christmas four years ago when I took you in my lap in the kitchen by the stove and you told me forever you would like to sit there and rest your head on my shoulder? Now it is a bitter surety in my heart that if you knew what I had seen and done, it would make you fear to do such again."
-Charles Frazier

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The bodies of the family lay on their lawn's ryegrass. If there weren't 4 bodies, two being particularly small, lying on the yard he might have commented to himself on how well groomed the yard was. But the presence of the bodies tore his attention away, as he tried to act impassive about the acts he had just committed.

The father, a man named Shawn, was known to be a high-ranked Ministry official and according to a fellow deatheater had been giving their side bushels of trouble since he's been promoted.

He had tortured him to death. His wife and his two children all lay beside one another as they had tried in their own ways to defend their husband/ father, but he'd killed them all.

He stood there, hands swaying slightly beside him, watching the face of the youngest child. When she had fallen her head had turned to the side and Draco gazed at her girlish profile. Her tangled, golden hair was strewn across the grass and her small pink lips were opened slightly like the mouth of a porcelain doll. Her lacy, white nightgown would stay warm as her body slowly became lifeless and cold.

He felt his body slowly walking towards her small frame and his hand reached out and grabbed her tiny wrist. He turned her body over onto her back to see the rest of her face and drew back in horror. The front of her nightgown was soaked in her blood. He leaned in and looked at the wound that hadn't been there before. The wound was the size of his fist and slightly below her heart. He stared at it, wondering how it had originated if he had killed her with a curse before he jumped back in terror. A single grey worm had slowly started to slither out of the hole. He backed away quickly when the girl's eyes blinked slowly and then rapidly. She pulled her head up and stared into his eyes with her own glazed ones. She opened her mouth and whispered his name.

He woke up in a cold sweat.

He'd dreamt about the man so frequently that he worried for his sleep. He had tortured Shawn to death 3 weeks ago in a basement in downtown London. As he had been dying, he had called out the name of his wife following by the names of his two children. He'd never seen Shawn's family but assumed they hated just like every other family who'd had a loved one killed by him.

He looked back and realized how inhumane he was. How controlled he seemed, like some sort of machine. He'd become used to what he had been called to do. He tried to do his job as professionally as he could.

He sat up and sighed heavily before dropping down his head into his pillow. All he could hear was the heavy breathing of near by deatheaters and the shaking papers that he'd placed under his dead candle.

He knew he wouldn't fall asleep again. These were the time when he couldn't escape thinking of all the terrible things he'd done. All the things Ginny or anyone else could forgive him for.

His soul was broken and stained in the blood of others.

How would he ever be able to forget what he'd done? He could never go back to the way he used to be. He had started to hope he would die before long just to keep from waking in the night. He couldn't look in the mirrors anymore.

There were so many things he wished he had never seen.

He kept thinking back to the conversation he had the night before he left Ginny. He asked her if she'd want to have children soon. She smiled and kissed him on the forehead.

How could he ever raise a child now? How could he ever tell a kid it was wrong to do something when he would be a hypocrite? He could never forgive himself.

He swung his feet over the side of his cot and threw on his cloak. He had to get out of here... even if it would only be for a while.

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"Ginny. Ginny, wake up. Ginny." She kept her eyes closed as she faintly heard someone calling her name. It had to be a dream and only because she was in such a large house... alone. Or she was supposed to be alone. She kept her eyes closed and settled her panic by believing it was the wind.

Then something touched her arm.

She opened her eyes suddenly, scared of what she would find in front of her. It was Draco.

She stared. She inhaled his scent; the same scent she hadn't smelt in forever. She took in the way his face had changed. His grey eyes were exhausted and full of worry and stubble had grown around his newly tanned face. His body was straight and still muscular but something about the way he stood beside her bed staring down at her told her how much he'd gone through. She had locked eyes with the man she hadn't seen in over half a year now.

All the times she'd done the housework or picked the peaches from the orchard, she'd imagined her conversations with him when she got home. She imagined asking him how his day was and what he was thinking when he stared off in space after dinner. She imagined reminding him how handsome he was and always getting the same smirk in reply. She imagined how dramatic it would be when he came home and she saw him again. She'd imagined so much to say to him when she saw him again. But now she couldn't remember any of it.

"Hey." She whispered quietly up at him.

"Hey." He replied as he bent down and picked her up off her bed. He sat down along the side of the bed and held her in his arms.

She felt the warmth of his body next to her and she remembered all the nights she'd cried because she'd been so cold. Of all the times she'd cried herself to sleep because she was so scared for him and had no idea if he was still alive.

She synchronized their breathing as her head moved up and down with his chest. She could faintly hear the beating of his heart as she wrapped her arms tighter around her neck.

"All the peaches are dead." She whispered.

"That's alright. I'm not all that into cobbler anyways."

"I would have made you one if you'd been home sooner."

"I should have come home sooner." He sighed and her head rose up with his chest.

"It doesn't matter. You're here now." They were silent for a while. "How long can you stay here?"

"I can't stay long."

"I've missed you."

"I'd hope so. You haven't had any Italian men over, have you?"

"Only one." She lied with a smile on her face. She buried her face into his chest.

"Have you heard anything from your family since I've been gone?"

"No, it's obvious they don't care."

"When I was little, I used to wish I never had parents so I could always do what I want. Never answer to anyone but myself, but I realized it's worse when they act like you don't exist."

"Yeah." Ginny replied weakly. Draco wrapped his arms tighter around her. "It's probably better they don't talk to me anymore."

Draco smirked. "That's the spirit; you're on your way to becoming somewhat of a rebel." She laughed.

"I haven't laughed in a long time."

"Neither have I." He laid back on the bed and she leaned in beside him. "I've missed looking at you." He said before kissing her.

"I'll get you some pictures of me to look at."

"It wouldn't be the same."

"Even the ones from our honeymoon?"

"You actually have those?" She giggled and leaned back against him.

"We could make some." He smirked and kissed her again. "I haven't told you I love you in a while."

"I haven't either." He began kissing her neck.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"Is the war almost over?" His lips ceased their movement and she felt his breath on her neck.

"Not even close."

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A/N: Just tell me if you liked or not in a review. Please? If the end sucks, blame Pink Floyd because that's what I was listening too. Thanks to my reviewers and answer to the question that so many people have asked: Yes, I do plan on finishing my other story... it's just I'm drawn to writing this one for the moment.