"How are you feeling," she asked quietly.
"Much better. I'd like to take a shower actually." She nodded and helped him up the stairs as much as he would let her, and led him to one of the bathrooms. After she left him with some thick, soft towels, he stared at himself in the mirror for a long time. The dark mark still burned on his skin, but his bruises were gone, and his hair was blond again, though it was still long. His cheekbones still stuck out, but he was more Malfoy pale and less unhealthy pale than before. He knew that it was all thanks to Ginny. She was the most powerful witch he'd ever met. He couldn't believe he'd underestimated her at school. Slughorn hadn't, the old rascal. All because of one bat-bogey hex. He remembered that day vividly, as he remembered most days in which Ginny had been involved. He remembered talking about her in their car, and how Pansy had suddenly seemed quite jealous of the pretty young redhead. And no wonder, with her own little pug-nosed face. He chided himself, after all, he hadn't minded snogging her at the time. Then he remembered the sense of relief he'd felt when Zabini had sneeringly said he wouldn't touch a little blood traitor like her. He hadn't wanted anyone else to touch her, and it had driven him crazy when she'd started snogging Potter. Potter didn't know anything about women, that was clear. Just look at what had happened with that Cho girl, always running off crying about her old boyfriend.
But Draco wouldn't have dated her anyways. His father would have been furious, and somehow Draco didn't think even the walls of Azkaban would protect him from his father. Not to mention the wrath of the Dark Lord. Those had been terrifying days, despite the front that he put up, one of greatest importance. He'd bullied Crabbe and Goyle into helping him, but really he'd been terrified the whole time. He didn't particularly care what happened to Lucius, but he wanted to protect his mother and himself at all costs, and so he agreed to have the mark burnt onto him, and to kill Dumbledore.
Dumbledore had been right, the day he died. Draco had made half-hearted attempts through poison and cursed jewelry, but he'd really been hoping that he would never have to do it face to face. He'd told Potter all of this, and Potter seemed to understand. They came to a sort of unspoken truce, where Potter would not hold the past and his family against him, and he would not taunt Potter about mudbloods, black dogs, or anything else. Granger seemed to be reserving judgement, and Weasley would never tolerate him. But Ginny was quiet and soft and gentle, but with a fire burning inside of her, and incredible power. During sixth year, they had all attempted to learn nonverbal magic, but no one had successfully grasped that on top of wandless magic. He knew a few witches and wizards had the ability, but only after years and years of practice. Here she had mastered the ability within a very short year.
He hoped that she could find it in her heart to care for him. He had to tell her everything, and then she would know. He wanted no secrets from her. He wanted to be hers. Had wanted to be hers since the year she came to Hogwarts, but he'd been too idiotic to admit it.
He got out of the shower and toweled himself off. He found a brush and ran it through his hair, slightly amused at how low-maintenance he'd become. He remembered a time when he'd spent more time on his hair than most girls did, carefully gelling each strand until he knew it would never move out of place. He then dressed and went downstairs to look for Ginny, and found her sitting in the kitchen drinking a cup of tea. She smiled at a much cleaner, better-smelling Draco and conjured him up a cup of tea as well.
"Are you alright, Draco?" She said, casually, trying it out. He smiled at her, looking somewhat nervous, but didn't bite her head off, so she assumed it was alright to continue using his name.
"I'm fine, Ginny," he said, returning the informality. Truth was, he was absolutely terrified. He had no idea how she would react to what she was about to say, but it had to be good that she was calling him Draco and not Malfoy or prat. He just prayed she wouldn't hex him. "There's something I've been wanting to tell you, but there was never a good time." She looked at him, expectantly, and so he went on, feeling slightly more encouraged. "I never wanted to be a Death Eater. But my father was in Azkaban, and Voldemort was threatening to kill my mother and me. I couldn't let him kill her, and the only way he wouldn't was if I promised to do whatever he told me to do. I foolishly told him I would, and that's when he ordered me to kill Voldemort. I think now that he never expected me to succeed, and that he was punishing my father. He was right though, I never wanted to kill Dumbledore, even though I hated him. I always felt as if he could see right through me. So, I made attempts that I knew would fail, thinking I could placate Voldemort without actually killing Dumbledore. I was hoping I would never have to do it face to face, but Ginny, things got out of hand. Voldemort was putting more and more pressure on me, and so I got the Death Eaters into the school." She was starting to glare at him. "Damn it, it all got out of hand. I never intended Greyback to come, and when I heard what he did to your brother, I blamed myself for it."
"Good!" She yelled, unable to contain herself. "We could have all been killed!" She rose angrily, ready to storm out, but he grabbed her and held on with more strength than she would have guessed he had.
"I hate myself for doing it. I should have gone to Dumbledore for help, but I was terrified that Voldemort would find out. I'm not good enough at Occlumency to keep him from finding that out, he's too strong. I'm sure there was something else I could have done, but I couldn't think clearly at the time. All I could think about was my mother. And, Ginny, Dumbledore knew all along, and he didn't go. I can't figure out why. And he knew Snape was a traitor, that Snape was offering to help me. Ginny, I think he meant for Snape to kill him. I don't know why."
"You're lying, Malfoy." But she saw in his eyes that he wasn't. She was confused and hurt, and couldn't understand why Dumbledore would let something like that happen. What would they do, now that he wasn't around to protect them anymore? The world was falling apart, and it was all because Dumbledore had died. She only realized that she was crying when Draco reached out and gently brushed the tears off of her cheek. He was crying too, and suddenly they were clinging to each other, tears soaking each others' clothes. Silent tears streamed down both of their face as she curled up in his lap and he stroked her hair soothingly. Neither of them heard the door open and close until they heard a voice say,
"Ron's coming." They looked up with tear-streaked face to see Hermione standing there, an odd look on her face. They quickly wiped their face clean, and Ginny flicked her finger to reheat the cups of tea and conjured up two more. By the time Ron came into the kitchen, Hermione was chatting away about the transfiguration that they were going to practice, and Ginny and Draco were staring at each other. He looked from one to the other, and shrugged, unable to figure it out. At least they were on opposite sides of the table.
