Chapter Eleven: A Lively Week

Ginny woke up slowly, feeling almost like she had the morning after she drank too much. But she knew without doubt that this feeling was not a result of alcohol. This was pain. She let her mind drift over the events of the past day, and shook, horrified. Charlie was... Charlie was dead. All the emotions that she had felt yesterday had overwhelmed Ginny, and she hadn't cried. But this morning, having just woke up, she cried softly. Her shoulders shook silently, but Ginny froze when she heard the blankets next to her mumble. Not the blankets; Draco. She was in his bed. Ginny jerked her covers back, checking to make sure her clothes were intact. He must have brought her in after she fell asleep in the chair, Ginny realized. Nice of him, sort of. It was still early; the sun had not yet crested the trees around the house. She lay back in bed, not sleeping, just thinking. She glanced, not wanting to wake Draco, but feeling the demand of the water closet. Ginny slid to the edge of the bed, trying to move as slowly as possible out and down the hall. After relieving herself, Ginny brushed her teeth, having missed brushing her teeth last night. She wasn't sure she wanted to go back to bed, but it was early enough that Ginny suspected she might be able to fall asleep again. So she crept back to the bed, and slowly, slowly slid under the covers and closed her eyes.

When she next opened her eyes, Draco was awake too, and looking at her. Ginny started back, unsure of this kind of early-morning etiquette. "Good morning," she burst out, not knowing what else to say. Draco smirked and continued to look at her. Slightly uncomfortable under his close scrutiny, Ginny glanced away, then back, meeting his eyes. And then, to Ginny's complete surprise and utter shock, Draco leaned closer and brushed her lips with his. Ginny froze, sure she was imagining this. So, knowing it wasn't real, Ginny closed her eyes, and as his lips approached hers again, she brought her lips up to meet his kissing him gently. Glad she had brushed her teeth -or had she imagined that too?- Ginny began to kiss Draco more throughly. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and Draco began to caress her back. His kisses trailed down her throat, his hands roamed and Ginny sat up abruptly, scrambling to the edge of the bed, slightly stunned by the realization that this was not a dream and Draco was really kissing, touching her. Draco just smirked at her lazily.

Oh Merlin. This was the last thing she needed, Ginny thought to herself. Why did he kiss her? Ginny backed carefully away from the bed, closer to the door. Draco continued smirking. Glancing his way to see his eyes still on her, Ginny gave an apologetic smile before yanking the door open and ducking out.

Ginny spent the rest of the day avoiding Draco. It was a simple kiss. Ginny had been kissed more by more than one person -Harry included- throughout her years in Hogwarts. What disturbed Ginny wasn't the kiss. It was the person who kissed her. It was also her own reaction to him. She had enjoyed the kiss. And her enjoyment had not been incumbent upon forgetting who it was who was kissing her. Ginny had enjoyed the kiss fully aware it was Draco Malfoy kissing her.

The house wasn't big enough for Ginny to avoid Draco as thoroughly as she would have wished. She saw him in the library, reading a book. He came into the kitchen as she was making lunch. He passed her in the narrow hallway, putting his hand on her arm to avoid bumping her further. His omnipresent, trademark smirk made Ginny positively murderous. In the early evening, Ginny decided to eat, knowing Draco preferred to eat later in the evening, and hoping to avoid him. Her pasta was almost finished cooking, and Ginny was roasting the garlic and tomatoes to mix with her pasta, popping the occasional tomato slice into her mouth, when Draco entered the kitchen. Absorbed in her cooking, Ginny didn't observe his presence until he lay a hand on her back. Ginny jumped and spun, wielding the spoon with which she had been stirring like a weapon.

"You startled me!" she exclaimed, irritated.

"Sorry. You just have a piece of something..." he paused, leaning down and kissing the left corner of her mouth softly, "right..." he kissed the right corner of her mouth, "here." Draco proceeded to softly nibble on her lower lip.

"Draco," Ginny whispered, closing her eyes, confusion rippling through her mind. Draco pulled away, smirking again when Ginny leaned forward, missing his lips on hers. When Draco wasn't there, Ginny jerked her eyes open, only to see Draco standing against the counter, a smirk covering his entire face. He was mocking her, Ginny realized, playing with her. He was kissing her knowing she would become uncomfortable. Well, Ginny thought, two can play that game. His kisses weren't real, just a ploy to unsettle her. Ginny resolved to quit acting so unsettled by his advances, to prove she wasn't as unsophisticated as she seemed.

To prove his kiss -or rejection- didn't mean anything, Ginny smirked back. If Draco wanted to play with her, she was more than willing to beat him at his own game. Ginny turned back to her pasta. She had played this flirting game before; she had just never expected to play it with Draco Malfoy. But then again, Ginny had never expected to be married to him either.

When she turned around again to drain her pasta, Draco was gone.

Draco Malfoy sat in his private study and bemoaned the fact that it was no longer private. Since Ginny had broken in here via the window, he hadn't felt quite as comfortable here. Granted, she wouldn't know how to get back in here without using the window, since she had been asleep as Draco carried her out, but he was still hesitant. This room, his sanctuary, felt compromised. He had spent most of the day in here, after it was obvious Ginny was avoiding him, and had plenty of time to think about it.

It was odd, having a wife. Not that they really acted like a married couple -the lack of marital intimacy being only the most obvious deficiency in their relationship, but not by any means the only- but it was still odd, having a woman always around. She was just always there, and there was no escaping her. Draco didn't feel as comfortable in his own house, knowing he was never alone. Reminders of her presence were everywhere; books she left lying around, her tooth brush in the bathroom, dishes in the sink, or even just a faint difference in the scent around the house. Annoying, it was.

While he had roomed with people at Hogwarts, Draco had always been very aware that it was not his space being invaded. Having never had to share space that was decidedly his, Draco found it unnerving. Especially in a living space this small. The entire cottage was the size of his quarters at Malfoy Manor. Having to share that with two people -even if he never saw one of them- was a new experience.

And he didn't quite know what to think about Ginny. She was different than he expected, different than he remembered. She wasn't as energetic as she had been at Hogwarts, and was quieter, but a bit more friendly. She was too young, though, he thought, to make a good wife. His mother was stately. Ginny was just too youthful to make a good, intimidating Malfoy. Maybe a child would settle her down, force her to grow up and grow a bit more distant. But Draco had a sneaking suspicion that Ginny would be too affectionate as a mother to be intimidating.

Frowning, Draco tried to imagine Ginny as his mother, saying the things she did, acting the way she did. It was almost... disappointing. Ginny would cease to be herself is she acted like Narcissa, and Draco felt almost wistful. He didn't quite like Ginny the way she was now, but liked her better this way than any other.

Enough of this thinking about his wife. Could get dangerous. Draco had a mission. It had been over a week since he had last sneaked back to the real world, and he wanted a news fix. Glancing around to ensure he was alone -you never knew when that wife of his would sneak up on him!- Draco grabbed a handful of floo powder and returned to Malfoy Manor.

The hallway was eerily quiet. Draco stuck his head out of the fireplace and glanced from side to side. It looked empty, and Draco leaned down to collect the newspapers. There were only three. It had been over a week, but there were only three newspapers. Sensing something was amiss, Draco continued to stand in the fireplace, but reached above the fireplace to the mantle to grab a handful of floo powder in case he needed to make a quick escape. Paranoid, perhaps, but Draco was determined to survive the day. Kicking the newspapers into the fireplace so he would still have them if he had to leave quickly, Draco was alert. He stayed in the fireplace for another minute or so, just to ensure no one else was around.

He stepped out of the fireplace slowly. Glancing around after every step he took, Draco slowly made his way towards the upper levels of the house. He stopped in the kitchen to demand of the house elves what was amiss in the house. But the kitchen was barren. Anticipation tightened his stomach. Draco stopped to consider. He wasn't sure that whatever information he might glean from exploring the rest of the house would outweigh the consequences if he was caught. In the eyes of the Death Eaters -well, in everyone's eyes, actually- he had run twice. Run away from consequences, run away from responsibility, run away from life. Death Eaters did not look fondly on cowards. Determined to prove he wasn't a coward -even to himself!- Draco crept forward. He ascended the stairs on the North Wing rather than using the formal stairs, as these were more secluded, less obvious. Draco was only halfway up the stairs when the faint sound of voices reached his ears. He froze, than after making sure the voices were not coming towards him, but were instead stationary, Draco slowly crept further up the stairs to hear what they were saying.

"...Malfoy's just disappeared again, the stupid coward."

"...Gotta find the kid. The Dark Lord wants his head."

"Nah. Kid's the least of our worries. Potter's a bigger worry. But the Dark Lord thinks that maybe the kid's part of the key to getting Potter."

"Malfoy?"

"That's the kid we're talking about, isn't it?"

"But everyone knows Potter and Malfoy hate each other. How would Malfoy...?"

"None o' yur business!" a third voice cut in. "Just find the kid!"

"We know he's been here, and recently too. About a week ago, we're thinking, maybe a little more. Seems he came here to pick up newspapers. Which means, if he has to come here to pick them up, that he's likely in an Idyll somewhere. He'll have to come through here eventually. It's just a matter of time."

"It had better be," the third voice growled.

"And we may be able to track their magic...It's public record what their wands are made of, and the Dark Lord has been experimenting with tracking wands, what with his and Potter's being so similar and all..."

Draco began to back down the stairway. He had to get back, make sure no one used their wands. He had to...

He tripped over a candle stand near the bottom of the stairs. The low murmer of voices which were still audible at the bottom of the stairwell suddenly turned to deafening silence.

Draco turned and ran.

He still had the the floo powder in his hand, so it was just a matter of getting to the fireplace before the Death Eaters. He ran with all his might. This was his house, and he knew how to travel the quickest routes. He prayed to Merlin that he might make it back to the estate. He had to warn his family... It didn't even occur to him to wonder than he had just included his wife as "family."

Draco could see the fireplace at the end of the hallway. He could hear the footsteps sound behind him. He didn't know which was closer. He stared straight ahead, watching the fireplace grow larger as he approached. Draco raised his arm, preparing to throw his floo powder into the fireplace.

"Humbolt Estate!" Draco cried as he threw, praying he hadn't said it too loudly. Draco jumped in the fireplace, and felt agonizing seconds as he waited to connect to the floo network. Draco turned, as his pursuers closed in. "One... two..." he counted silently. Finally, he felt the gut-wrench indicating floo transport, and eventually tumbled out onto the rug in his study, tripping over the newspapers he had left in the fireplace of Malfoy Manor.

Draco took a deep breath. He had made it back to the estate. Alive, for now. He took another deep breath, and another. They knew where he was. Not exactly where he was, nor how to get there, but they knew he was in an Idyll. They knew which fireplace connected to his Idyll. He spent the rest of the day laying every protective enchantment he knew of, and at least one Draco thought he might have just invented, on the estate, before breaking the news to his mother and Ginny that magic was no longer allowed. It was the muggle way from now on.

Thank you very much, feel free to review.

Much love,

MA