When she emerged from the steamy bath, Will was just beginning cry. She swooped him into her arms.
"Are you crying? Don't cry; you're not alone."
Will opened his eyes for the first time, she stared at the expressive, shining brown eyes as she absently smoothed the soft tufts of dark hair.
"Your mother must have been beautiful," she whispered. "You obviously didn't get any of Malfoy's genes, thank God."
Will stared up at her and gurgled. She smiled. "You must be hungry again. Let's find the kitchen, all right?"
Gently bouncing the baby up and down on her shoulder, she found the kitchen, only to discover that it was empty.
"Need a hand?" Draco was lounging in the doorway, his blond hair wet from his shower and slicked back. A towel hung around his neck.
"Yes. I've never been brilliant at Transfiguration. I need to transfigure the cup into a bottle and the water into milk."
He strolled past her. "Only had to ask."
He did as she asked and even transfigured a chair into a baby seat. He leaned against the elaborately crafted sink, watching as she fed Will.
"I thought Healers had to be exceptional at everything," he said finally, breaking the silence that was only punctuated by Will's constant gurgling and sucking.
"If you'll recall your sixth and seventh year, I was in all of your classes except for Transfiguration and History of Magic. I couldn't figure Transfiguration at all, and it wasn't that big of a deal anyway. I'm quite good at Potions and Herbology and Charms."
"Spare me the list of your accomplishments." He folded his arms across his chest contemplatively. "We'll have to get some food. Do you know how to cook?"
"Yes, of course. Don't you?"
"Never had to know," he shrugged unconcernedly. "I'll get the food, you make the food. You'll have to earn your way."
"Fine with me. You can watch Will when I'm cooking."
He grimaced. "I'll cast a sleeping charm on him."
"No, you won't," she said sharply. "Honestly. Haven't you any idea how to care for a child?"
"No," he smirked, unabashed. "Never had to know."
"Now you do. How you could have ever had a child is beyond me."
"We have the time. I can explain it to you, unless you're a slow learner and prefer the practical demonstration."
She rolled her eyes at him. He smirked.
Ginny distracted herself by focusing on Will. She could feel Malfoy's abstracted gaze on her, and she in turn stared at Will, who happily stared at the flickering flame of the lit candle.
"Who's the mother?" she heard herself asking, still not looking at him.
Draco frowned. Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart. "That, Weasley, is my affair, not yours. Be kind enough to stay out of it."
She flinched at his chilly tone. He stared at her, unmoved.
"You have to tell me something, you know," she said, trying to keep her tone as calm and detached as he was. "Harry said - "
"I don't care what Potter said," Draco said coldly. "You're here on a need to know basis."
She slammed Will's transfigured baby bottle down on the table. "I am here whether you like it or not! I didn't ask to be here, you know. I didn't have a choice. I - "
He interrupted her again. "And you think I had a choice? You poor, delusional little girl."
"I am not a little girl! You think you're so smart, Malfoy, and high and mighty, just because you're skilled in the Dark Arts and you became a bloody hero for turning over just before Voldemort declared war and for putting Lucius Malfoy under the Imperious Curse - "
"You know nothing," he hissed at her, rising to his feet so fast he knocked the chair over. "Not that I would expect you to understand. You're a Gryffindor, you're a Weasley, you're too shy and too nice and too stupid to understand; of course you'd be a bloody Healer. Everything's black or white to you. Someone is either good or evil. I'm high and mighty? Wake up," he scoffed. "You parade around behind the hero's train and think you're so much better than everyone else because you can forgive. Forgiveness," he snarled the word like it was something ill flavored that had landed unwanted on his tongue. "Not every murder is undeserved, Weasley, everything is justifiable. And it's a fine time for you to learn that."
Before she could reject that statement, Will opened his mouth and wailed. The darkness in Draco's eyes changed so quickly from fury to panic was laughable, and she would have laughed, but she was still trying to think of an answer.
"For Merlin's sake, shut him up!" Draco snapped.
"You do it," she retorted. "He's your son."
He narrowed his gray eyes at her. At first, she thought he might cave in and comply, but he only stalked out of the room, leaving her alone with Will.
--------------------
Luckily for the both of them, Will wasn't too difficult for a one year old, and after a change of diapers - thank God she'd learned to do that with her wand - and a bath, he was asleep again. Ginny was exhausted and wanted nothing more but to drown herself in the bathtub before falling into bed, but she sought out Draco instead. She found him standing out on the porch, gazing out at the expanse of snow and craggy mountains made soft by the cold. His hands were in his pockets, and he stood stiffly erect although she knew he must be as weary as she. He held himself aloofly, as though he were afraid to slacken.
"What do you want, Weasley?"
So much for trying to startle him. She jumped and said irritably, "We need to talk."
"We don't," he corrected immediately.
She flushed. "Malfoy. We're in this together."
"We are in this together as you say," he said dryly, "because Potter threw us together. He told me of - he didn't say you were coming."
"I know you don't like me," she said, rushing on loudly, "but the reality is that I'm here with you and running away from the war."
"We are not running away from the war," he said icily. "We are taking a break from the war until we are needed. If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer that we not talk about the war. I don't care a damn if you want to talk about everything else, fine, talk away, but we aren't talking about anything related to the war. If you insist on doing so, I promise you, Weasley, your trip around Europe will have an impromptu ending. It will be a very short and sudden stop, and if you have any preference whether you'd like to be strangled or drowned, I'll keep that in mind."
She glared at the back of his head. "Damn it, Malfoy, turn around and look at me."
"Why?" His voice was soft. "I don't want to."
"'We don't always get to do what we want; sometimes we have to do what we must,'" she quoted Hermione, and was struck mute by wistfulness and fear that had knotted themselves together so tightly she was dumb for a moment.
"I'm beginning to feel like I must kill you."
"Can't you ever be serious?"
"When I feel like it." He leaned against the wooden banister.
She stared at a point between his shoulder blades. "Fine. If you're going to be so unhelpful - if you're going to be such a prat - I'm leaving in the morning. I'll hike down the mountain and Apparate from there."
"And how will you take Will with you?" he asked mildly.
"I won't. He's your son."
He finally turned around to face her, gray eyes glittering. "Harry asked you to watch him."
Later on, she would look back upon this moment and realize that he had been subtly manipulating her - using Harry's name, alleviating his tone, catching her eye, gentling himself and his emotions - showing some vague emotion.
He pressed on lightly. "You promised him, didn't you?"
"No." She lifted her chin. "I didn't promise him."
He arched an elegant eyebrow. "You didn't?"
She shook her head.
"I have to confess that I'm surprised. I would have thought he'd make you promise, and you'd promise because it's bloody Harry Potter."
"He did ask me to promise," she said, swallowing shakily. "But I didn't have a chance to say anything."
"How very noble of you. Your friend asks you to do one thing for him, and because you didn't verbally instate the words, it doesn't count." His lip curled.
"You can take care of Will," she said, backing away into the door again. "You always say you're the best at everything; this shouldn't be a challenge. He's only your son, after all."
"Do I?" he ignored her last statement. "I don't recall saying anything of the sort, ever."
"Maybe you don't say it, but you can't deny you don't act like it. Good bye, Malfoy, and good luck." She turned, her hand on the doorknob, intending for to leave that for him to think on; it made for a good exit line. His voice and her name on his lips stopped her, made her hesitate.
Later on…later on, she would recognize that he had also used her name deliberately, a calculation he'd worked out in his head and known she'd pause.
"Ginny," he said. "Where will you go?"
"Where else? I'm going back to Hogwarts to fight."
"Good luck," he said lightly, turning away again.
She lingered there on the porch, staring at his back again, before going inside.
--------------------
She slept on the sofa, and when she woke, she found a blanket draped over her. The cabin was silent; dawn was just barely breaking across the sky. Perfect time to leave. She considered saying good-bye to Will, but decided not to. Harry would understand; they would all understand. This was her choice; none of them had ever given her a choice.
She was on the second step of the porch, stretching one foot out to step down, when it happened. There was a buzzing sound, and she was thrown sharply back so that she crashed into the front door. She took all of two seconds to react.
She leapt to her feet and ran over to the edge of the porch again. There was a faint, thin gold line drawn along the step, and she followed it with disbelieving eyes around the borders of the porch. Apparently, it had been drawn around the entire cabin - along the pipes, the floor, the windows.
"This place has Anti-Apparition charms locked on it."
"Malfoy, you bastard."
"Thank you," his voice said, and she spun around.
He was as unruffled as ever, and looked as though he'd stepped off the pages of a Wizard model magazine.
"You said," she said faintly, weak from anger and hopelessness, "You said you'd let me go."
"You persist in imagining that I say things I haven't," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "What I said was, 'good luck.' What I meant, of course, was that you'd need luck in leaving this place. If you chose to read something else…well, that can't be helped and isn't my fault."
"The hell it isn't. What did you do?"
He stretched and yawned lazily. "An Age Line, of course. You don't remember seeing one in your third year? Protected the Goblet of Fire from your nut brothers. Very simple. Let me explain - only people who are eighteen years old or older may leave this place. Which means, I believe, that you and my dear boy will remain safely in here. Of course, I worried that you might know how to remove it, but seeing as though you couldn't remember what it was, I sincerely doubt that. So, no problems."
He had the nerve to smile at her beatifically. She was trembling from a deep-seated anger that gripped her and paralyzed her.
His grin widened. "A lesson, Weasley. Don't ever be dumb enough to tell your escape plan to someone else."
"Are you crying? Don't cry; you're not alone."
Will opened his eyes for the first time, she stared at the expressive, shining brown eyes as she absently smoothed the soft tufts of dark hair.
"Your mother must have been beautiful," she whispered. "You obviously didn't get any of Malfoy's genes, thank God."
Will stared up at her and gurgled. She smiled. "You must be hungry again. Let's find the kitchen, all right?"
Gently bouncing the baby up and down on her shoulder, she found the kitchen, only to discover that it was empty.
"Need a hand?" Draco was lounging in the doorway, his blond hair wet from his shower and slicked back. A towel hung around his neck.
"Yes. I've never been brilliant at Transfiguration. I need to transfigure the cup into a bottle and the water into milk."
He strolled past her. "Only had to ask."
He did as she asked and even transfigured a chair into a baby seat. He leaned against the elaborately crafted sink, watching as she fed Will.
"I thought Healers had to be exceptional at everything," he said finally, breaking the silence that was only punctuated by Will's constant gurgling and sucking.
"If you'll recall your sixth and seventh year, I was in all of your classes except for Transfiguration and History of Magic. I couldn't figure Transfiguration at all, and it wasn't that big of a deal anyway. I'm quite good at Potions and Herbology and Charms."
"Spare me the list of your accomplishments." He folded his arms across his chest contemplatively. "We'll have to get some food. Do you know how to cook?"
"Yes, of course. Don't you?"
"Never had to know," he shrugged unconcernedly. "I'll get the food, you make the food. You'll have to earn your way."
"Fine with me. You can watch Will when I'm cooking."
He grimaced. "I'll cast a sleeping charm on him."
"No, you won't," she said sharply. "Honestly. Haven't you any idea how to care for a child?"
"No," he smirked, unabashed. "Never had to know."
"Now you do. How you could have ever had a child is beyond me."
"We have the time. I can explain it to you, unless you're a slow learner and prefer the practical demonstration."
She rolled her eyes at him. He smirked.
Ginny distracted herself by focusing on Will. She could feel Malfoy's abstracted gaze on her, and she in turn stared at Will, who happily stared at the flickering flame of the lit candle.
"Who's the mother?" she heard herself asking, still not looking at him.
Draco frowned. Your guess is as good as mine, sweetheart. "That, Weasley, is my affair, not yours. Be kind enough to stay out of it."
She flinched at his chilly tone. He stared at her, unmoved.
"You have to tell me something, you know," she said, trying to keep her tone as calm and detached as he was. "Harry said - "
"I don't care what Potter said," Draco said coldly. "You're here on a need to know basis."
She slammed Will's transfigured baby bottle down on the table. "I am here whether you like it or not! I didn't ask to be here, you know. I didn't have a choice. I - "
He interrupted her again. "And you think I had a choice? You poor, delusional little girl."
"I am not a little girl! You think you're so smart, Malfoy, and high and mighty, just because you're skilled in the Dark Arts and you became a bloody hero for turning over just before Voldemort declared war and for putting Lucius Malfoy under the Imperious Curse - "
"You know nothing," he hissed at her, rising to his feet so fast he knocked the chair over. "Not that I would expect you to understand. You're a Gryffindor, you're a Weasley, you're too shy and too nice and too stupid to understand; of course you'd be a bloody Healer. Everything's black or white to you. Someone is either good or evil. I'm high and mighty? Wake up," he scoffed. "You parade around behind the hero's train and think you're so much better than everyone else because you can forgive. Forgiveness," he snarled the word like it was something ill flavored that had landed unwanted on his tongue. "Not every murder is undeserved, Weasley, everything is justifiable. And it's a fine time for you to learn that."
Before she could reject that statement, Will opened his mouth and wailed. The darkness in Draco's eyes changed so quickly from fury to panic was laughable, and she would have laughed, but she was still trying to think of an answer.
"For Merlin's sake, shut him up!" Draco snapped.
"You do it," she retorted. "He's your son."
He narrowed his gray eyes at her. At first, she thought he might cave in and comply, but he only stalked out of the room, leaving her alone with Will.
--------------------
Luckily for the both of them, Will wasn't too difficult for a one year old, and after a change of diapers - thank God she'd learned to do that with her wand - and a bath, he was asleep again. Ginny was exhausted and wanted nothing more but to drown herself in the bathtub before falling into bed, but she sought out Draco instead. She found him standing out on the porch, gazing out at the expanse of snow and craggy mountains made soft by the cold. His hands were in his pockets, and he stood stiffly erect although she knew he must be as weary as she. He held himself aloofly, as though he were afraid to slacken.
"What do you want, Weasley?"
So much for trying to startle him. She jumped and said irritably, "We need to talk."
"We don't," he corrected immediately.
She flushed. "Malfoy. We're in this together."
"We are in this together as you say," he said dryly, "because Potter threw us together. He told me of - he didn't say you were coming."
"I know you don't like me," she said, rushing on loudly, "but the reality is that I'm here with you and running away from the war."
"We are not running away from the war," he said icily. "We are taking a break from the war until we are needed. If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer that we not talk about the war. I don't care a damn if you want to talk about everything else, fine, talk away, but we aren't talking about anything related to the war. If you insist on doing so, I promise you, Weasley, your trip around Europe will have an impromptu ending. It will be a very short and sudden stop, and if you have any preference whether you'd like to be strangled or drowned, I'll keep that in mind."
She glared at the back of his head. "Damn it, Malfoy, turn around and look at me."
"Why?" His voice was soft. "I don't want to."
"'We don't always get to do what we want; sometimes we have to do what we must,'" she quoted Hermione, and was struck mute by wistfulness and fear that had knotted themselves together so tightly she was dumb for a moment.
"I'm beginning to feel like I must kill you."
"Can't you ever be serious?"
"When I feel like it." He leaned against the wooden banister.
She stared at a point between his shoulder blades. "Fine. If you're going to be so unhelpful - if you're going to be such a prat - I'm leaving in the morning. I'll hike down the mountain and Apparate from there."
"And how will you take Will with you?" he asked mildly.
"I won't. He's your son."
He finally turned around to face her, gray eyes glittering. "Harry asked you to watch him."
Later on, she would look back upon this moment and realize that he had been subtly manipulating her - using Harry's name, alleviating his tone, catching her eye, gentling himself and his emotions - showing some vague emotion.
He pressed on lightly. "You promised him, didn't you?"
"No." She lifted her chin. "I didn't promise him."
He arched an elegant eyebrow. "You didn't?"
She shook her head.
"I have to confess that I'm surprised. I would have thought he'd make you promise, and you'd promise because it's bloody Harry Potter."
"He did ask me to promise," she said, swallowing shakily. "But I didn't have a chance to say anything."
"How very noble of you. Your friend asks you to do one thing for him, and because you didn't verbally instate the words, it doesn't count." His lip curled.
"You can take care of Will," she said, backing away into the door again. "You always say you're the best at everything; this shouldn't be a challenge. He's only your son, after all."
"Do I?" he ignored her last statement. "I don't recall saying anything of the sort, ever."
"Maybe you don't say it, but you can't deny you don't act like it. Good bye, Malfoy, and good luck." She turned, her hand on the doorknob, intending for to leave that for him to think on; it made for a good exit line. His voice and her name on his lips stopped her, made her hesitate.
Later on…later on, she would recognize that he had also used her name deliberately, a calculation he'd worked out in his head and known she'd pause.
"Ginny," he said. "Where will you go?"
"Where else? I'm going back to Hogwarts to fight."
"Good luck," he said lightly, turning away again.
She lingered there on the porch, staring at his back again, before going inside.
--------------------
She slept on the sofa, and when she woke, she found a blanket draped over her. The cabin was silent; dawn was just barely breaking across the sky. Perfect time to leave. She considered saying good-bye to Will, but decided not to. Harry would understand; they would all understand. This was her choice; none of them had ever given her a choice.
She was on the second step of the porch, stretching one foot out to step down, when it happened. There was a buzzing sound, and she was thrown sharply back so that she crashed into the front door. She took all of two seconds to react.
She leapt to her feet and ran over to the edge of the porch again. There was a faint, thin gold line drawn along the step, and she followed it with disbelieving eyes around the borders of the porch. Apparently, it had been drawn around the entire cabin - along the pipes, the floor, the windows.
"This place has Anti-Apparition charms locked on it."
"Malfoy, you bastard."
"Thank you," his voice said, and she spun around.
He was as unruffled as ever, and looked as though he'd stepped off the pages of a Wizard model magazine.
"You said," she said faintly, weak from anger and hopelessness, "You said you'd let me go."
"You persist in imagining that I say things I haven't," he said, raising an eyebrow at her. "What I said was, 'good luck.' What I meant, of course, was that you'd need luck in leaving this place. If you chose to read something else…well, that can't be helped and isn't my fault."
"The hell it isn't. What did you do?"
He stretched and yawned lazily. "An Age Line, of course. You don't remember seeing one in your third year? Protected the Goblet of Fire from your nut brothers. Very simple. Let me explain - only people who are eighteen years old or older may leave this place. Which means, I believe, that you and my dear boy will remain safely in here. Of course, I worried that you might know how to remove it, but seeing as though you couldn't remember what it was, I sincerely doubt that. So, no problems."
He had the nerve to smile at her beatifically. She was trembling from a deep-seated anger that gripped her and paralyzed her.
His grin widened. "A lesson, Weasley. Don't ever be dumb enough to tell your escape plan to someone else."
