.:IV:. A New Hope

Six and a half school years Draco had spent with Crabbe and Goyle, Crabbe having two more IQ points than Goyle, and never had either of them smelled so nice. Like something wild, like deep inside a forest of some sort with happy little chipmunks collecting nuts and what not. Not really Draco's cup of tea, but at least it didn't smell like sweat, like Crabbe smelt like every since Draco's father introduced him to the two apes.

You will have to excuse Draco's massive head injury for slowly putting together that it was his red-haired companion that he was gripping on to and not his sweaty ex-bodyguard. His arm firmly gripped her middle and slowly brought her down to the floor.

Weasley looked almost relieved when they were face to face, but he slapped a hand over her mouth when he heard a boot clank in the next room.

He had already knocked out Goyle with the candlestick holder, but not before Goyle pushed Draco into the corner of the massive bookcase next to the bed.

He could feel the pulsing of the wound on the back of his head as he waited for the steps to grow louder. And it did. Weasley had closed the door after her when she entered the room and Draco could see two gaps in the light under the door.

He pushed Weasley back further from the door and put a finger to his lips to indicate there would be big trouble if she were to make a peep.

Draco raised himself silently from the ground and waited as the door clicked open and he heard that first boot stomp on the hardwood. Draco could see Crabbe's bulky form make it's way across the room and over to the bed. Just few more moments...

In a flash of blinding green light Crabbe killed Goyle thinking it was Draco.

"Goyle! I've got him—"

Draco loomed over Crabbe enjoying him sputtering and cowering.

"Draco! W-we was just coming to get you, Master Lucius has been awfully worried—"

"I'll bet he has," Draco drawled, fully enjoying Crabbe cower, but it looked like Crabbe had began to take notice that Draco didn't have his wand out, for it had rolled under the bed during his brawl with Goyle.

"Come on now," Crabbe said standing, or at least trying to stand tall. "You can't runaway forever,"

Okay, now that pissed Draco right off. Malfoys never run away. Draco reached inside his pocket for anything to defend himself. Luck was clearly on his side when his fingers met something sharp in his pocket. He pulled it out. Of coarse, it was a bit of glass from the train when he had tried to pull in Weasley.

"Crabbe, what did you plan on doing after you killed me?" Draco hissed before Crabbe could conjure a decent spell. Draco gripped the glass in his hand until it bled and thrust the glass as hard as he could into Crabbe's side. Draco could hear the sound of flesh breaking.

He pushed back Crabbe and dived under the bed to retrieve his wand. He bolted from under the bed as his hand closed around the wand. He was out the door in three strides before he pulled Weasley out of the room. But before he left that room, he transfigured Goyle into a perfect imitation of Draco himself.

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"You killer! You murderer!" Weasley was howling as he pulled her through the snowy fields. He was almost glad that he had been struck, the pain certainly tuned her out enough.

"And you're hurting me!" Draco finally released Weasley's speckled arm, finally noting that he had been in possession of it for over an hour, not that he was keeping time.

"They would have killed you in heart beat if it wasn't for me," he shot.

He almost smirked when she didn't reply. No, she was almost doubled over; Draco failed to notice that the arm he had been clutching had been the one he had broken in the first place. Not that he cared.

"And you know who the Ministry would come after if they found a dead Weasley on Malfoy property," he then added "especially one that is supposedly dead,"

"That's right," she said, full realization dawning on her. "They think I'm dead,"

"Well spotted,"

Too tired to Disapparate, he trudged on westwards.

"Oh, you're not leaving me here in the middle of nowhere, no you're not,"

"Then keep up," he snarled, he was growing quite impatient with Weasley, and you and I both know how young Draco's temper can flare.

"You don't even know where you are going," he only caught half of that, not that he cared. The wound at the back of his head was pulsing again, and the cold wind chill was biting it. Yet he pulled the hood of his cloak up, vaguely noticing that Weasley only had her Hogwarts robes.
There. They were out of the cornfields now, it was a small valley and beyond that were trees. He knew he wasn't going to get to where he wanted to go any time soon. His only chance was—

"Weasley, d'you know how to Apparate?"

"Well, Charlie taught me one summer in Romania, but—"

"Good, now, think of—"

"Ssshh!" Weasley hissed, ducking low.

"Wha—"

And pulling Malfoy along with her.

"Look," she whispered, pointing a shaky finger at a nearby bridge. A bridge with train tracks. There were people there too. Almost swooping around, obviously investigating, though it took Draco a while to gather that.

Just about lying on the snowy ground and Weasley slowly pulled him back into the cornfields. Huddled together, completely uncaring of one another's personal boundaries, they crouched. He could feel Weasley's warm breath on his cheek.

"Stop breathing, they'll see it," he hissed.

By now, Draco was fully aware that the youngest Weasley hadn't run off to the Ministry members, blaming Draco for this unfortunate event, even though it was all pretty much Draco's fault that they were standing here in the snow, not that he was going to admit that.

The pair almost relaxed, when they heard—

"Oy, Harry! Find anything?"

Of coarse Perfect Potter was looking for Lady Ginevra by now. It made sense. Send a knight in shining armor for Weasley and the Brute Squad for Draco.

"Nothing," called another voice. "All they could find was her trunk,"

Why. Why wasn't she running away from Draco? Why didn't she go and live a happy Weasley life?

Neither of them moved. Draco was sitting, but Weasley was huddled in his arms. It was too cold to smell anything.

"Name the place and I'll get you there," it was almost convenient that they were so close, or he wouldn't have heard her at all.

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What have our two heroes gotten themselves into now? Why didn't Ginny run when she heard Harry? Why did Lucius want Draco dead? Now where are our young heroes off too? Why does Ginny know how to Apparate? And why doesn't Draco have the decency to give her his cloak, but I think we all know the answer to that.

Tune in next time to The Wrath of Ginevra wherever Internet may be available.

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And here it is, your moment of Zen:

"My hovercraft is full of eels." — Monty Python.