Hello, my lovely readers! How are you all? Here's the next chapter and I hope that you will enjoy it.
Disclaimer: The Wizarding World belongs to J.K Rowling. This fanfic belongs to me.
WILFULLY: CHAPTER 28
Ginny Weasley could fall out of love with Draco Malfoy.
The love thing was a recent development anyways, which meant that she was not in too deep. And he had sort of betrayed her by hiding things from her.
Yes, she could fall out of love. The fact that he made her incredibly happy or that her heart physically ached at the mere thought of pushing Draco out of her life did not matter. It did not matter at all. It was going to be no easy feat, but she could just move past and move on. Yes, she very much could…
If only his stupid existence would just leave her alone long enough for her to try.
xx
"This smells vile."
"It will taste even worse. Drink it."
Ginny did and sputtered, bringing her hand to cover her mouth so that she was forced to swallow the damn potion that tasted like what she imagined dog poop would taste like. "Never again," she gasped once she was certain that she would not throw it up. "I liked the last one better."
"You said the last one tasted like rotten toenails," Blaise Zabini reminded her as he sat down on the high stool before her and pulled out his wand. "In any case, this potion is the next phase, so you'll be taking it for the coming few weeks. Get used to it."
"Why are we moving to the next phase?" Ginny demanded. "The first phase didn't work."
"You are obnoxiously impatient. I told you that this will take time."
"It's been a month!"
She was sitting on the bed of the bland examination room at St. Mungo's for her fourth weekly session with the Healer, and so far all she had accomplished was a relative control on her gag reflex when it came to guzzling disgusting potions. Well, that and the fact that Blaise had succeeded in completely removing the scar on her forearm and had turned the one above her elbow as faint as it could get. What remained of it was a silvery thread on her pale freckled skin, as Blaise had told her that the nature of the injury made it impossible to remove the scar entirely. Which was fine, really. It was not the scar on her skin that truly worried her, it was the fact that a month had passed since they had started working on healing her arm and there had been no movement or sensation at all so far.
Still, the hope that one of these days these damn sessions would work was the only thing she had left these days, so she clutched to it with everything she had. And here she was, watching Blaise work on her arm while she answered his questions honestly and followed his instructions to a T.
These damned Slytherins were quite good at working quietly, but her family and group of friends had been nothing but chaos (a good kind of chaos, though) and she found such lingering silences uncomfortable. So, after a short while, she could not help but start a conversation. "How's Daphne?"
"Moaning about being pregnant," Blaise replied with a fond smile. "Now that the backaches and the swollen feet are kicking in, she likes to put the entire blame of her condition on me."
"She's not wrong," Ginny said, earning a sour glare that caused her to laugh. One good thing that had happened in the past month was that she had struck a sort of comfortable rapport with the man, enough that they now addressed each other using their first names.
He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it with a shake of his head.
"What?" she could not help but prod. "Were you going to say something sexist?"
"I'm married to Daphne. I know better than to say something sexist."
"Then what is it?"
"Nothing." He turned her hand so that it was palm up and spread her fingers wide, resting them on the pillow on her lap. Then, he started muttering a complex incantation under his breath and a bright jet of light started shooting from the tip of his wand to the pads of her fingers. It seemed to seep into her skin, which glowed white and then turned an ugly shade of yellow. "Actually, it's not nothing. I have some news that I'm dying to share, but not with you."
She drew her brows into a frown. "Is this a new Slytherin way to insult me?"
"As if I would ever use such a weak way to insult," he snorted haughtily, then quickly turned serious. "What's going on with Draco?"
Ginny stiffened. She had not seen or heard from Draco since their chance meeting at Fortescue & Finnigan Ice Cream Parlour. The bastard was probably too busy plotting with Harry and running off with his old Death Eater buddies. And she was too busy to think of him and his lies anyway.
Except the last month had been a hell of its own kind. She was on medical leave from work, which meant that all the time taken up by practices and strategy sessions was free and it drove her mad. She was not much help around the house, what with one arm limp and hanging in that stupid sling. All of her friends had jobs and were not available as much as she would like– and the loneliness always made way for thoughts of Draco to torment her. It was ridiculous what a huge presence he had in her life, and how empty everything seemed to be now that he was not around.
Desperate to escape such thoughts and bored out of her mind, she had found some solace in visiting the backroom of the Weasley's Wizard Wheezes, where George had been more than happy to let her sit on the desk and watch his innovative process. He was inventing a line of 'biased' Quidditch balls, which included Snitches that would only been visible to one of the Seekers, and Quaffles that would shout insults and refuse to go through the hoops of opposite teams.
"I have barely seen him this past month," Blaise went on, unaware of her train of thought. "He cancelled our lunches and drinking plans on account that he's busy. He's blocked off his office Floo and Yugo keeps on making excuses to send me away whenever I go to the Manor. I had to shove away the poor house-elf so I could barge into his room the other day!"
"So, you've met him." She shrugged indifferently.
"He was sleeping. But he looked awful, so I didn't wake him." Blaise bit his lip. "It-It reminds me of our sixth year at Hogwarts, when he practically became a recluse. Do you have any idea why he's being like that now?"
"We're in the middle of a fight," Ginny told him shortly, feeling rather sour that Draco Malfoy had somehow made his way into her healing sessions, the one place where she had been able to bar the thoughts of his pleading grey eyes out of her mind with some success. He had refused the idea of breaking up the last time they spoke– when she hadn't even broken up with him! He had simply assumed that her furious silence was an invitation to end their relationship. Bastard.
"That explains it. May I ask what's wrong?"
"Did I pry into your matters when you had a row with your wife?" she snapped.
"It's a shame," Blaise said as he bent over her hand to mutter another incantation, which very slowly started turning the pads of her now ugly yellow fingers to pale purple. "I expected you and Draco to handle lover's spats far better than I did. I mean, I come from a rather dysfunctional family dynamic. What's your excuse?"
"Draco is an idiot."
"That is not untrue," he said with a chortle. "You know, I was a first row spectator to his relationship with Pansy, so I can tell when his feelings are sincere. I reckon his feelings for you might be more sincere than even he realises."
Ginny scowled. His words had done nothing but caused her heart to flutter uneasily in her chest, deepening the conundrum that she had already been encaged with for weeks now. It was her own fault for starting up a conversation; she should have let the damned Healer work in silence.
Her anger towards Draco also seared to the forefront of her mind when she realised that Blaise was fulfilling his role as a loyal friend by trying to convince her to give the blond prat another chance, while said prat was behaving like an arse towards his mate by not only lying to him about this whole Death Eater fiasco, but also ignoring him like he was the bloody plague. It was cruel and unfair, and she ought to tell Blaise to just go and punch that blond git for all the crap that he had shovelled into their lives, but she didn't. It was not her place to interfere in anyone else's friendship, no matter how one-sided it appeared to be.
"I'm worried about Draco," Blaise stated as he summoned a vial containing a bubbling potion from the cupboard, still oblivious to the fact that his words were stirring up her frustrations. Or perhaps he was aware and simply did not care. "If this fight between the two of you has put him in this sorry state, then I urge you to try and fix things with him."
Ginny opened her mouth to tell him to mind his own fucking business, but he had just dripped the bubbling potion onto her fingers using a dropper – and she let out a yelp, for her skin had just started to burn. And then the breath knocked out of her at the realisation that she was feeling her skin burn.
"Oh," she breathed even as her eyes filled up with tears of relief and joy. The sensation existed only on the index and the middle fingers of her hand, but it did not matter because she could feel. Merlin, she could feel!
Blaise pulled out a handkerchief and wiped her hand clean, then muttered another spell that returned the skin to its usual colour. "Try to move your fingers, please," he said.
It took a few tries, but her index and middle finger twitched slightly at her commands. "Oh Merlin," she let out a joyous cry. "It worked, Blaise!"
"Of course, it did," he shot her a smug smile. "I had hoped that some function would return to all your digits, but this is good progress too. I would like to keep working on these fingers before continuing onto the next ones."
"Okay." She was too jubilant at being able to move something in her limb after having it hang dead from her shoulder for so long that she did not even care that the response had been less than what he had hoped. It had been far, far more than what she had dared to expect.
The session lasted for another hour, during which Blaise instructed her through some rigorous therapy and prescribed her that very same foul smelling, foul tasting potion for the next fortnight. She did not even complain because by the end of the session she had successfully managed to gain complete movement of her two fingers; if that disgusting potion was going to help her heal, she would gladly drink it in pints all day long.
Ginny exited the hospital giddily, excited to share this wonderful news of progress with practically everyone she knew. Her mum would no doubt cry and whip up some celebratory waffles. Her dad will just pull her into a hug. George might set something on fire. Ron will most definitely suggest going to one of his favourite restaurants for dinner. She could not wait to see the expressions on their faces, she simply could not wait, which is why she wasted no time and apparated away.
She opened her eyes when her feet landed on firm ground, and the smile on her lips faded away in an instant.
The Malfoy Manor stood before her, grand and daunting, surrounded by hedges laden with blossoms. A few feet ahead of her were the tall iron gates that would slide open for her if she chose to step forward; the wards around the place had been adjusted to allow her entry at all times. Beyond the gates, she could see an albino peacock strutting about the long driveway, its beautiful tail feathers practically gleaming in the afternoon light.
Shit.
Why had she apparated here of all places?
Even as she frowned with bewilderment, she knew that she could not fool her own self. She had wanted to share the news of her healing with the people who mattered to her, and here she was, outside the residence of the man who was perhaps the dearest to her– or at least had been until very recently.
Ginny blew out a shaky breath, eyeing the Manor with an odd yearning. The place that had once housed Voldemort had now become a sort of utopia for her, where she had spent countless nights in the arms of the man she had fallen in love with and many mornings engaged in playful banter over breakfast. Damn Draco, damn him to hell for acting like the presumptuous knob that he was and spoiling the state of perpetual bliss that the two of them were living in.
The great front doors of the Manor opened, startling her out of her brooding, and a tall figure stepped out. It was difficult to see his face at this distance, but she knew with absolute certainty that it was Draco; there was no mistaking that gait, that aristocratic posture or that pale blond hair.
She did not wish to speak with him. Hell, she did not even want to see his face. So, without wasting another moment, she turned on the spot and apparated away once again.
xx
"Hey, Gin!"
Ginny looked up from the sports page of the Daily Prophet to find Harry standing before her, holding a paper bag in his hand that contained something deliciously cheesy, if the aroma was anything to go by. He was dressed impeccably in a formal shirt and a waistcoat, and there was a Ministry badge pinned to the lapel of his robes. "Please tell me you're not in the middle of some thrilling chase," she said in lieu of a greeting.
"No, no!" He said with a laugh as his eyes moved around the small, lively café that they were in. Located right in the middle of Diagon Alley, it was quite popular for its grilled paninis, which must be what he had in his bag. "Had a meeting in the area, so I thought I'd stop by for a quick bite."
She smiled and gestured for him to join her at the window-side table she was sitting at, which he did. "So, what's new?"
"You tell me, you're the one reading the news."
"Oh, I was just reading about the Quidditch League restarting," she told him. The security warding around the stadiums had taken longer than the Ministry had expected and the League had been put on hold as a result. Now, though, it was finally resuming, and the quarter final between Holyhead Harpies and Puddlemere United was scheduled to take place in three days. It was a shame that she was not going to be able to play, but she did look forward to watching the Harpies win, which they obviously were going to. "About time."
"Be'er safe th'n sorry," Harry mumbled through a mouthful of his panini, then flushed sheepishly when she let out a laugh. He waited until he had swallowed his food before speaking again, "By the way, Hermione told me there's been progress in your healing."
"Yeah," she grinned as she looked down at her hand, still hanging by her front in the sling, and wriggled her two fingers proudly. It had been two days since her session with Blaise and she could not stop showing off.
His face broke out into a smile and he reached out to squeeze her other hand lightly. "That's wonderful, Gin!"
Flash.
The two of them started at the sudden bright light, heads whipping to the side where they saw a press photographer hurrying away on the sidewalk outside, camera in hand.
Ginny made a face. "They're not even subtle anymore."
"If they were any nice towards me, I'd give them full coverage rights of my apparent frequent hook-ups with Hermione," Harry said dryly. "You know, the ones we have in my office after I purposely send Ron away on dangerous missions, hoping that he would get killed so that I could make a move on my 'old flame' and get some revenge on you." Years of being on the receiving end of constant media attention had left him rather immune; ninety percent of the time, he did not even blink an eye anymore when some bizarre statement was made concerning him.
She bit her lip to smother a laugh hand tried her best to look cross. "I read about that in the paper, so it must be true. Honestly, Harry, did you have to stoop so low?"
"Hey, you're the one who started it by shagging Malfoy!"
Though he had probably meant those words as a joke (she could not be entirely sure), they did evaporate all the humour twinkling between the two of them in an instant. Ginny felt her spine stiffen at the mention of the blond man whose existence just would not leave her be.
"Have you spoken with him?" Harry asked slowly, the smile vanished from his face too.
"No," she said shortly. "But I'm sure you have."
He stared at her for a long moment, then pulled out his wand and wordlessly warded them against eavesdroppers. "He's met Dolohov a couple of times, but it's been just the two of them so far. I reckon it's a lot of conniving, bigoted wordplay that seems to come naturally to all those slimy Slytherins."
"I don't want to know," Ginny stated.
"I have a feeling that Draco was right," Harry ignored her words and went on. "Dolohov is testing him, or will test him. Either way, we will know more after their next meeting, which is taking place later tonight I think."
"You said that you two know what you're doing," she said with an indifferent shrug. "I don't see why I have to care."
"Believe it or not, he is actually doing all this for you."
"You're defending him now?" she demanded incredulously.
"Merlin, no!" Harry said with a shake of his head. "But I am your friend and I can't lie to you. I hate myself for it, because it would be so much better for me if you two never sorted this out."
"You don't have to worry about that," she muttered bitterly. "I don't want to talk about Draco anymore."
They dissolved into an uneasy silence then, with Harry slowly finishing his meal and Ginny forcing herself to focus on an article about the Nimbus Prime, which was finally going to be launched later that month. She remembered how wonderful it had felt to ride that broom, the speed, the exhilaration, and wondered if she should maybe try to buy it. She quickly dismissed the idea, though; the price estimates that the article gave nearly had her eyes bulging out of her sockets. She would surely be able to afford it if she spent almost three-quarters of the contents of her Gringotts vault, but that just seemed ridiculously wasteful. Besides, her Firebolt was a wonderful broom too, thank you very much.
"Ginny?" Harry's voice snapped her out of her daydream of actually buying the Nimbus Prime and zooming on it across a Quidditch pitch in a thrilling match, and she looked up to find him staring intently at her. "I wanted to ask if, um, if you want to have dinner with me?"
What in the name of Merlin's soggy pants? "As in–"
"As in a date, yes," he said, answering her question even before she asked it.
Her mind was whirring. Harry was brilliant and while she did care for him very much, she did not want to go out with him, especially when her relationship with Draco was still dangling somewhere between existing and ending. She was terribly cross with the blond prat, but her heart also yearned to be close to him. It was complicated already, and adding Harry to the mixture would only make it blow violently over her face. "Harry, I can't–"
"I'm not saying tonight," he cut her off. "Someday soon, maybe. Just think about it, okay?"
"O-Okay," she squeaked. What else could she say, really? It would be wrong to refuse Harry so heartlessly, considering that he hadn't done anything wrong. To him, she was a single woman once again. And maybe she was a single woman once again, though the thought only made her sad. Either way, the last thing she wanted was to see Harry in a romantic light once again. So, she would just wait a couple of days and then refuse him politely.
His smile brightened up the entire café, and drowned her in a wave of guilt. Maybe she should let him down right away. It was cruel to get his hopes up.
"Harry–"
"Oh, shoot! I need to head back to the Ministry," He quickly stood up, his eyes fixed on his watch– the watch that her mum had given to him on his seventeenth birthday.
"Can we talk when you're free?"
"Sure. Anytime. It was great seeing you, Gin." He reached out to squeeze her free hand lightly, and then hurried off.
Just bloody great! She, Ginny Weasley, was stuck between a Malfoy and a Potter. A rock and a hard place. A serpent and a lion. As she walked out of the café a few minutes later, she wondered if it would be better to move to some distant place in the Himalayas and live there away from all this drama.
It was a tempting thought.
xx
If there was one thing that Harry's offer of a date had done, it was to force Ginny to examine her thoughts about Draco Malfoy, something that she had been avoiding this past month.
Her parents had gone off for a dinner party at her uncle's place and they would not be returning until way past midnight, because her father and his brothers had a habit of getting tipsy and swapping childhood stories in much detail. After having a quick dinner of macaroni and cheese, she slumped on the sofa and let her mind wander into more worrisome realms as she listened to the quiet that hung around the Burrow.
She had been conflicted ever since Draco had told her the truth of his knowledge, and now involvement, with the Death Eaters. One the one hand, she was proud of him for having refused Dolohov when he had been approached to join the Cause. She was even sort of flattered that he had decided to assist the Aurors and put himself in danger, all because he had been terrified at the prospect of losing her after the Bodmin Moor blast. She was not stupid, she knew that these acts were a testament to how much he truly loved her.
But if he loved her so much then why did he have to pollute their relationship with the stain of secrecy?
His Dark Mark had apparently been burning for quite a while now and he met Dolohov three bloody times, but he never mentioned any of this to her. It was understandable initially, because of course his self-serving instincts would flare up in an attempt to keep him unsuspicious in her mind. But surely he must have deemed her important enough to share this huge burden once they had confessed their love to each other and admitted that their relationship was no simple fling anymore. For Merlin's sake, he had told her about the Curse that Voldemort had punished him with, which was without doubt the biggest secret in his life.
Or had he felt comfortable letting her know about that because it made him look like a victim, whereas admitting to being in touch with the likes of Dolohov would have done nothing but cast light upon the horrible choices he had made in the past?
Ginny sat up restlessly. The air inside the house felt stale, whereas out the window, trees danced in the wind that was blowing. Deciding that a nice walk would most certainly help clear her mind, she slipped off her stupid sling simply because she was sick of wearing it all the time, put on her boots and wrapped a thin woollen scarf around her neck; though the weather was slowly turning from ridiculously cold to pleasant, the nights could be cool and she did not want to come all the way back to the house to grab a warm wrap. It was better to be prepared beforehand.
This was one of those so-called organised habits that she had picked up from Draco– something that pleased her mother and annoyed her to no end. Bloody blond git had rubbed off on her. And that was the whole problem: that he had somehow become a part of her life, vital enough that the mere thought of cutting him out was a challenge.
Within minutes, she was strolling aimlessly through the orchard, slowly making her way towards the small lake that lay on the other side of it.
Harry had broken up with her after Dumbledore's funeral in the name of protecting her. It was foolishly noble of him to do so and she had not been happy about it, but she agreed with him because she understood what was at stake. His mission was more important than their relationship at the time, after all.
He had kept so many secrets from her too. Merlin, he did not even tell her about the Horcruxes until after Voldemort had died, and that too because she had sort of overheard him discussing it with Hermione and had demanded an explanation. It always bothered her why he would not tell her; It's not as if she was going to go and start making one for herself. And she was not stupid, she knew that it was the sort of knowledge that was best kept hidden. And she had kept it secret all these years. She had not even told Draco, though if she had to wager a guess then he probably knew of the concept of a Horcrux; though they had never openly discussed it, she knew that he knew quite a bit of Dark Magic, in theory at least, if not in practice.
During the Battle of Hogwarts, when her mother had insisted that she return home, Ginny had looked to Harry for support. And he had silently shaken his head, refusing to support her when she had asked for it. In the couple of years following the battle, she had had many rows with him over that, and he had claimed that he did it because he could not stomach the idea of her being in danger, because he wanted to protect her.
Protect.
Ginny harboured a particular sort of hatred for that word now, and that is probably why she reacted so angrily (and violently) when Draco told her the truth.
For Merlin's sake, she had dealt with being possessed by Tom Riddle and its aftermath of knowing that her silliness had nearly gotten others killed. She had fought Death Eaters at the Battle of the Department of Mysteries. While Harry had gone off on his secret mission to find and destroy the Horcruxes, she had been at Hogwarts, getting punished for not wanting to practice the Cruciatus Curse on eleven-year-olds and leading the Dumbledore's Army in resistance of the regime. And though everyone had tried to keep it from happening, she had participated in the Battle of Hogwarts as well, and she had held her own against some of the most dangerous Dark Witches and Wizards in the country at the time.
It was beyond infuriating that no one around her seemed to acknowledge any of that. She did not need anyone's protection. What she did need was for people who claimed to love her and respect her to treat her like a bloody equal. She had thought that maybe Draco would do so, but apparently that was too much of an ask.
The trees rustled madly over her head as she reached the banks of the lake, watching its water ripple because of the wind. She knelt on the ground and dipped her hand inside. A shiver ran down her spine at how cold it was, but she smiled fondly. This was a place she had often come to during her childhood in an attempt to escape her teasing brothers. She used to splash her feet in the water while she planned her revenge on them.
If only her current problem was as simple as a little strife between siblings.
Ginny had been in a relationship with Harry for five years. There were countless memories she had that she would no doubt cherish forever, but those years had not been perfect. She could remember all too well the anger, the frustration and the constant, endless worry that had plagued her every single time Harry had gone off on a mission. The fear that he would be injured (which he had been quite a few times), that he might never return. It had been the major reason behind their breakup.
And now, Draco wanted to follow the same path of righteousness.
Of course, there was a difference here: Harry's morals were going to encourage him to keep on fighting the good fight his entire life, whereas this mission would only be a one-time thing for Draco. She would never stop him from doing what he thought was the right thing, no matter how much she wanted to, but she was not sure if she had the strength to stand by his side and wallow in fear and worry while he courted such danger. It was an insult to her Gryffindor bravery no doubt, but was she wrong to want to protect herself? She could not bear the pain and heartbreak of finding out that Draco had gotten himself hurt or killed for the sake of this stupid plan. No. It was better to convince herself that their relationship was over and that she hated him.
Except she was doing a piss poor job of that. Everywhere she went, every conversation she had was somehow laden with reminders of him, of how truly happy she had been with him.
A sudden snap of a twig caused her to whirl around, her eyes scanning the area around her with intrigue. She did not have to search long, for a very familiar figure stepped out from behind the trees, its iconic platinum blond hair shining in the pale moonlight.
"Draco?" Ginny asked incredulously just as her heart thudded in her chest at the thought of facing him for the first time in a month. She wondered why he had come here now, but all her curiosity was replaced with utter dread at the sight of him. The side of his face and nearly half of his hair were splashed with what appeared to be blood. "Merlin! Are you alright?"
"Don't worry. The blood is not mine." It was nearly deranged manner in which he had spoken that had her subtly reaching for her wand, and she realised with an alarming jolt that she had forgotten to bring it with her when she had left the Burrow for a walk.
"Whose is it, then?" she asked, forcing her voice not to quiver.
"Wren Finley's. Esteemed member of our honourable Wizengamot and a muggle born. Or should I say mudblood?" Draco was wearing his Death Eater robes that were open down the front, revealing black trousers and a white formal shirt that was stained crimson near the collar. Her lips curled in disgust as she watched him, and he must have noticed it for he shook a finger at her. "No, no, no, darling. You do not get to judge me for this, not when you are the reason that I am in this mess."
"Excuse me?" she blanched.
"Do you think I wanted to get entangled in this new war?" he demanded. "I was content with my life, happy to use my work to build my family's name back up brick by brick, and very much satisfied with a random quarterly shag that I managed to secure on my nights out with Blaise in random pubs. Then you came along and fucked everything up."
"Did I now?" Ginny took a few angry steps towards him, looking every bit like a lioness that was getting ready to pounce on her prey and tear it into shreds.
To his credit, Draco held his ground. In fact, he raised his chin defiantly, as if he was challenging her to contradict him. "Yes, you did. I am covered in someone else's blood because of you."
"You condescending wanker!" she snarled. "I can't believe that you are blaming me for your decision to join the Death Eaters."
"I'm not blaming anyone. This was my choice, a choice that I made because I am helplessly in love with you. They hurt you and I could not allow them to do that again. So, here I am, obeying that turd Potter and doing whatever it takes to–" Draco cut off suddenly, his entire frame shaking with rage. He gulped audibly, then met her blazing gaze. "I did it all for you, Ginevra Weasley, and I didn't expect you to be happy about it, but I had hoped that you would understand. Instead, you banished me from your life. Tell me, does the punishment fit the crime?"
"Your crime is not going to Harry or Dolohov," she reminded him coolly. "It is lying to me."
"For which I apologised!"
"That's become your habit, hasn't it? You make terrible mistakes, then you say you're sorry and expect everything to go back to normal. It may have worked on the Ministry but it will not work on me!"
"What the fuck do you want from me, then?"
It did occur to her all of a sudden that the two of them had somehow moved closer to each other during their argument, so much so that she could very clearly tell that it was not only the blood splatter that was making his cheeks red, but that he had flushed in his anger. "I should be asking you that. I don't hear a peep from you for over a month–"
"You're the one who didn't want me around!" He interjected.
"And now you show up covered in some poor, innocent man's blood, bemoaning about how you're somehow the victim in all of this," she went on. "Do you really think this will work?"
"What makes you think I want anything to work with you anymore?" he demanded icily, his fingers curled into tight fists at his side. "I love you with all my heart but by Merlin's magic, I could strangle you!"
"Yeah? Well, me too!"
And then his lips came crashing down on hers, furious and insistent, though there was nothing passionate about the gesture. His tongue pushed past her defences to plunder her mouth and his teeth gnawed at her lips, no doubt leaving them bruised.
Ginny found herself frozen to the spot at the sudden contact, but it was the roughness behind it that snapped her out of her stupor. She thumped at his chest with her good arm – once, twice – but it was of no use. The sheer audacity of the bastard amazed her; he honestly was trying this with her in the middle of a damned fight. Did he really think that a bit of a snog would somehow fix what his treachery had broken? Growling dangerously, she reached up to grab his hair so that she could pull him away. Only, the moment her fingers buried in his ridiculously soft hair, she remembered just how much she had loved playing with it. Her body reacted to the sensation before her mind decided to let her know that it was unwise, and she found her lips moving against his.
Draco must have taken her response as consent, for he shoved her up against the thick trunk of a willow tree. One hand wrenched the knitted dress she was wearing up while the other quickly slipped up her thigh. The touch of his cold fingers on her skin caused her to gasp, though it was cut off abruptly when he grabbed at the waistband of her knickers and jerked so hard that she would most certainly have fallen over had she not been pinned in place by his hard body. The flimsy cotton knickers ripped and he tossed them away before reaching out in between them to undo the front of his trousers.
She was at war with herself. A voice in her head told her that she ought to stop him, to at least try to protest against him, but even as he freed her lips to look down between their lower bodies, not a single word escaped her. It shocked her to realise that there was another part of her mind that was exhilarated by how things were progressing. It wanted to see how far Draco would go, to see how he imagined to help his situation by doing this, but even more than that, it wanted her to use him to please her body before she shunned him once again. Because that is what she was going to do, right, toss him out of her life once again?
Neither sides in her mind spoke up to answer that, though her heard did twinge in protest.
Ginny found herself blinking back into reality when she felt a very familiar but very sharp intrusion between her legs. There was going to be no foreplay or sweet murmurings. Draco had wasted no time whatsoever in joining their bodies, but it was the harshness of the union and of the movements that followed that caused her to let out a strangled sound.
All his fury from their argument and perhaps from whatever he had endured with the Death Eaters earlier had somehow pooled into this single physical act, and it seemed that she was going to have to face the brunt of it.
Draco Malfoy was a bloody hard man to read, but she had been able to decode some of the odd language of him. There were times when he was like an open book to her. Then, there were instances that he would pull up tall walls around himself, leaving her to bang her fists on the stones, hoping one of them would chip away to reveal what lay on the other side. Right now, it was more of a latter situation, and she wanted a glimpse of him so that she could at least try to understand what had brought all this on.
"L-Look at me," she whispered shakily, hoping that he would raise his head from where he had buried it in the crook of her neck. There was no response from him, and it only fuelled her irritation. Bunching her fingers tight in his hair, she tugged so hard that she actually felt some of it break. It was partially successful; he did raise his head along the movement of her hand, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes firmly shut. "Look at me!" she ordered.
He obeyed at once. Their gazes locked, and the dark grey of his irises reminded her of stormy skies and furious oceans. She tried to look past the lust swirling in those orbs and saw, to her surprise, that there was a pool of raw emotions inside of him. He was spiralling out of control, and it was driving him mad.
"L-Listen to me," she stuttered. The fact that his body had not halted its ministrations on hers made it very difficult to speak in full sentences.
Once again, he showed no sign that he had heard her, but continued to stare into her eyes intensely, as if he was trying to find the answers to the universe's secrets in her gaze. She pulled his hair ruthlessly once again, causing his mouth to fall open, haggard gasps escaping his lips.
"Are you listening to me?"
"Yes," Draco puffed.
It took her a few moments to gain control of her thoughts; the heat that emanated from her lower body had seeped to her insides, getting warmer and warmer until the blood in her veins was boiling. But she shoved those feelings away by pulling at his hair threateningly. "If… If you ever fucking lie to me a-again… I will leave you for good," Her words were punctured by small sounds that escaped her lips on their own accord, but she could do nothing to stop them, so she continued, "B-But not before I rip your fucking heart out with my bare hands… D-Do you understand?"
"My heart is yours," Draco grunted. "Do with it what you want."
What he said triggered something deep inside of Ginny, causing a loud scream to tear from her throat. Her blood must have evaporated by now, for she was surely not alive on earth anymore. She was gone far away, held up only by his ruthless mercy. She writhed against him like a ship that lay at the bottom of the sea, rocking under waves upon waves of something that most certainly was pleasure– but by Merlin, it hurt. It hurt because she realised that while she could loathe him for his lies, she was whole only when she was with him.
It was a terrifying realisation, and it blew the breath out of her lungs and the energy out of her limbs. She was oversensitive down there now, trembling like a leaf caught in a hurricane. Too much, too much. The overload of emotions overwhelmed her and she could do nothing but cling onto him, chin resting on his shoulder and vision scorching white.
After what felt like a while, but could not have been longer than a few minutes, his fingers dug into her thighs, hard enough to leave a mark. His body jerked erratically for a couple of moments before stiffening.
The world seemed to still and then move just as quickly as Draco wrenched himself away from her.
Ginny knew that her knees would give away the moment her feet touched the ground, so she allowed herself to slide down the tree until she was sitting down. She noticed with some dull amusement that Draco's legs were wobbling as he, too, lowered himself next to her. His eyes had an odd clouded look to them, as if he was lost somewhere inside his head.
She stood up and managed to stumble over to the bank of the lake, wincing at the pain that shot between her legs. Merlin, the soreness was worse than when she had lost her virginity! Still, she forcibly quelled it as she took off her scarf and dipped a corner of it into the cool water. Squeezing to get the excess water out, she gingerly made her way back to Draco, who still did not acknowledge her presence.
It was only when she used the damp scarf to wipe the blood from his face did he flinch violently, his grey eyes snapping to hers in surprise.
"What happened?" She asked calmly.
His mouth worked for a moment before he answered in a hoarse voice, "I passed the test."
"Oh, Draco."
"Wren Finley is dead. Not by my hand, though my hands did cause him a lot of agony."
Her heart would have broken for him had her stomach not churned in the most uncomfortable way at the thought that he had tortured the poor man just so he could secure his place amongst Dolohov's followers.
"I-I was going to put him under the Imperius Curse but Dolohov cut open his throat," Draco went on, looking terribly shaken with what had happened. "I didn't see it coming. It-It happened so fast that there was nothing I could do."
She felt the blood draining from her face as she tried to picture what that poor Wizengamot member must have endured before he was brutally murdered– and for what? "Why Finley?
"He remanded the Death Eaters caught in the Azkaban breakout in the custody of the Auror Department." Well, that would explain why Dolohov wanted to target the man. Usually, the job of an Auror started with the investigation and ended with the capture of Dark Wizards. And though the Aurors were posted at Azkaban to guard the prison, the trial and sentencing of criminals often had nothing to do with them, other than them being called in to present evidence during the hearings if necessary. "Imprisoning them under Potter makes extracting them difficult."
Did that mean that the Dolohov thought he could have extracted the captured Death Eaters had they been sentenced to Azkaban? That was a worrying thought, though the fact that his plans had been thwarted for the time being was some consolation.
With a sigh, Ginny reached out and caressed Draco's cheek in a rather futile attempt to soothe him. Her anger towards his involvement in this wretched plan would come and go, but she knew now that she could not let their relationship wither away. She wanted to fix things between them, and pick up where they had left off but on a better, more stable footing.
A ghost of a touch startled her from her thoughts, and she saw Draco's fingers lingering over her cheek. "Please, do not hate me for this," he said.
"I don't hate you for any of this," she told him truthfully as she moved to straddle him. His arms wrapped around her waist, holding onto her tightly as if he was afraid that she would leave, and she pressed herself closer against him to assure him that she would not. "You once told me that part of the reason why your relationship with Pansy didn't work out was because you kept secrets from her. You cannot repeat that with me. Draco, you're going to have to treat me like I'm someone who is capable of making her own decisions."
"I don't want that decision to be you leaving me."
"So you made the choice for me?" she asked. "Tell me why I should stick around after that."
"I know you can take care of yourself, Ginevra," he said slowly. "But I also believe that all that Death Eater crap is my burden to bear."
"That's where you're wrong. If we love each other so then there is no such thing as your burden or mine. It is our burden, Draco."
He closed the distance between them to place a gentle kiss on her lips. "I appreciate what you are saying, love, but I must disagree," he said. "It is one thing to know something, but completely another to face its consequences. Part of my past is so deeply ingrained within me that I cannot escape it. My family's history, the Mark branded onto my arm, the Dark Lord's Curse– these are things that only I must bear alone."
"Fine. Bear them, then," she snapped impatiently. "But at least be honest with me about it."
"I will be," he replied almost instantly. "You have my word."
There was something in his eyes that convinced her that he was being truthful this time, and she knew that he would not make the same mistake again. "Then I will stand by you during this plan," she promised. "Which I still don't approve of, by the way, but I respect it because you and Harry are trying to do what you two think is right."
Draco placed another quick, chaste kiss on her lips before resting his head back against the tree trunk with a tired sigh. "I don't know what is right anymore, Ginevra," he admitted in a low voice.
Ginny looked at him with something that felt oddly like pity. No matter how noble his intentions were in deciding to aid Harry, the fact remained that an innocent man was already dead, murdered at the hands of the very monster that Draco was trying to get in the good graces of. Draco had passed the test and won Dolohov's trust, but it had come at the cost of Finley's life,which left her wondering if the ends justified the means. "No," she breathed as she leaned forward to rest her forehead against his. "Neither do I."
xx
Ginny Weasley could fall out of love with Draco Malfoy.
How foolishly naïve she had been to think that.
She had supposed that her love for Draco was smaller because it was not like the passion she had felt for Harry. She was only half right; the two loves were incredibly different in nature, but she knew now that what she felt for Draco had somehow evolved into something far more stronger and superior than she had anticipated.
Draco was a part of her now, and there simply was no way that she would be able to live a life in which he was not there beside her.
Well, what did you think of the chapter? Please, please leave a review and let me know. Your feedback is what inspires me to keep on writing!
Until next time x