NEAR GAIRLOCH, THE HIGHLANDS, SCOTLAND
Continued
Draco did not take the revelation about his father well.
Not that Snape expected him to.
There was little in this world worse than being betrayed by your own father and Draco had been betrayed by his more times than anyone could count.
And there was still a part of Draco that needed his father's approval. There was no denying that. It's how he was wired. After everything, a part of him would never be able to just walk away.
Lucius. Curse him.
Ginny approached the lake edging the back of the property. Fog hugged the ground and obscured the forest in the distance. She rubbed her arms and reapplied a warming charm, biting down hard on her bottom lip as she peered ahead, searching for Draco's unmistakable outline. The thick mist skated above the water, much like the breath from a water dragon. She shivered.
There were two small docks on this side of the body of water, and Ginny finally noticed the back of Draco's head next to furthest dock from the cabin. He was slumped down on the ground, leaning against the edge of the wood where the dock began. Ginny squared her shoulders. Draco was bound to be furious. Nothing wound him up tighter than his father.
Her steps slowed as she traversed the high grass, nearing the dock. Draco had his knees drawn up to his chest and he was staring out towards the fog-covered forest. The tense line between his brows and the firm set of his jaw caused a hitch in her chest. He didn't move or say anything as she neared his side.
She sat down next to him, scooting on her bottom until their shoulders and sides were touching. Draco glanced at her, his shoulders still tight. His gaze was hot, boiling, and Ginny was right to think he was barely containing his anger. She stretched her legs out in front of her, let out a soft sigh, and reached for his hand balled up against the grass. It was cold. Huffing quietly, she brought his hand towards her and kissed his palm gently, then started kneading and rubbing his cold skin between her fingers.
"Gin—" he rasped, before she interrupted him.
"If you tell me to leave, I'll deck you," Ginny bit out.
A laugh escaped Draco and he looked at her again, his eyes warming a bit. "I believe you," he said.
Ginny raised an eyebrow at him and he grinned darkly at her, remembering, she knew, their first kiss. Ginny bumped him with her shoulder and rolled her eyes, trying not to smile.
Draco exhaled slowly, releasing as much anger towards his father as he could, the bastard who had more power to hurt him than anyone else, and pulled the red-headed fireball at his side closer, until she was in his lap. Gin brought both of her hands to either side of his face. "You were a right arse, I hope you know that."
"Yes, ma'am," Draco drawled, pulling Gin closer by a loop of her jeans.
They were nose to nose, and the warmth in Ginny's eyes untied most of the knots in his stomach. He shuddered, closing his eyes, then clenched his eyes shut as she laid feather-light kisses on his brow, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, until finally, her questing mouth met his. Heat was one thing they never had trouble with. Draco deepened the kiss and they toppled backwards onto the dewy grass, Draco on top.
He stared down at the witch below him, drinking in the rising flush staining her cheeks, her red hair fanned out around her face in the grass, and the answer to all of his questions in her eyes.
His gaze softened and, holding himself up on his hands and knees, he returned her kisses. Her brow as her eyes fluttered shut. He smiled at her jumping pulse. He pressed his lips to her eyelids, the tip of her nose, and as her mouth parted, he bent down and kissed her collarbone, where her pulse was racing. Ginny let out a soft gasp and opened her eyes. Draco chuckled, letting his hair fall onto his forehead as he kissed her lips.
Beth pulled back the warm covers on the twin bunk bed Molly had offered and smiled down at Toot, whose head was resting snugly on her shoulder. His hazel eyes were halfway closed already and he couldn't stop yawning. She sat down on the comfortable mattress and tried to keep the overwhelmed tears at bay. She couldn't bear to think about Ammon. She refused to believe she'd never see him again. Even as one hand splayed out on the soft fitted sheet in wonder at the mattress's softness, her chest ached. Sam was wrong. She wasn't stupid enough to have feelings for him. He was her friend.
She began to hum, kissing Toot's forehead.
"Lullll'bye," Tootie asked around a yawn, blinking owlishly up at her.
Hummm. "Close your eyes," Beth directed in a whisper. His eyes shut obediently and Beth climbed into the bed and set him on her legs, raising both of her knees a bit as she gazed down at him. She had sat with him like this since he was a baby. These days, his long legs reached up, laying against her chest, almost reaching her neck. He was growing so fast. With a wistful sigh, she rocked him gently side to side and rested her chin on his bare foot as she sang the lullaby that had soothed her to sleep so many years ago. Beth's young voice was soft, rich, full of the deep resonances of a raw and naturally talented singer. "Guten Abend, gut' Nacht, mit Rosen bedacht, mit Näglein besteckt, schlupf' unter die Deck': Morgen früh, wenn Gott will, wirst du wieder geweckt..."
Tootie was breathing deeply, and Beth took a deep breath, looking at him. She closed her eyes and took another deep breath. Scooping Tootie back up into her arms, she scooted forward and set down the pillow, laying him upon it on the side of the bed closest to the wall. Tootie wiggled and snuggled against the pillow with a soft sigh, then threw his arms up, laying them above his head just as he usually did, and started breathing deeply.
Beth laid down beside him, sharing the pillow, and pulled the warm quilt up over both of them until only their heads and his arms peeked out.
She closed her eyes against the tears.
Exhausted, she eventually fell asleep.
Sam followed Tonks reluctantly into the cabin and tried to tune her out. "I know you want to see your sister, but Molly said she's asleep."
Sam pushed ahead down the hall, then halted when Tonks cleared her throat. "They're in here, Sam," the older witch said, a touch of a smile on her face.
Shouldering her way in the door, Sam let her feet carry her to the bunk beds on the other side of the room. Her steps slowed until they came to a stop as she drew up to Beth and Tootie, who were curled up together, both breathing deeply, under the light of a softly curtained window. Sam's pulse slowed. Beth's hair had come out of its braid and was splayed all over the pillow, coming to rest in rolling hills near the headboard, and Toot had his chubby arms lying on the pillow, going over his head, and one fist was closed tightly over a thick lock of Beth's hair. Her sister's eyelashes were damp, causing Sam's throat to thicken, and a stuffed cotton-y feeling came over her ears. Sam turned and walked back out the door without waking her sister.
Brahms' lullaby in the original German. Since their mom was a music professor and Beth loves music, I think it's fair to say she would know it.
Good evening, good night,
With roses covered,
With cloves adorned,
Slip under the covers.
Tomorrow morning, if God wills,
you will wake once again (1868, Johannes Brahms).
