Potter vs. Malfoy: Bridging the Gap
By Jedi Tess of Gryffindor
Summary: Aware of the fact that her most beloved fic had in it a gaping hole, J.T. set out many months ago to make things right. Here (she hopes) is a ficlet that will satisfied any unsatisfied "War's End" readers and, indeed, finish forever the "Potter vs. Malfoy" saga.
A/N: I apologize without excuse for the long wait. I hope this justifies it. Definite romance, definite cliffy, and hopefully definite closure for this fic by Christmas. That is my goal, we'll see what happens. Also, a quick plug for my D/G fans of the revamped "Sometimes, I Even Amaze Myself" currently up on FictionAlley. I guarantee a more consistent, better fix. "Bend It" is moving slowly, due to lack of direction, plot-wise. I have the immediate plot all sorted, but have to be careful so that there's some purpose in the future and hopeful keeping with J.K.'s tone set in book 6
At any rate, happy reading, I love you all, and keep an eye out for X-mas fics
Loves!
J.T.
Disclaimer: I solemnly swear I am up to no good – er, I mean, I own nothing. Yeah... All characters and situations taken from J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter canon are solely hers. Original, non-canonical plot ideas belong to me, Tess Williams, as of August 2002, when this piece was originally begun. I intend no copyright infringement by dabbling in the Harry Potter universe!
Part 2
A month later – mid-June 1998
Harry stood tensely in the entrance hall of 5 Inmind Street and chewed his lip.
"Will you cut that out?" Draco muttered from his side. "You're bloody well making me nervous!"
"Sorry," Harry mumbled back. "Cut what out?"
"Staring at the ruddy door as though it's about to explode!" Draco snapped. "It's unnerving and annoying."
"But according to you, I'm both those things, anyway," Harry pointed out with a tight smile. "If you haven't learnt to live with it yet –"
"Oh, cork it, you prat," Draco said, kicking his ankle none too gently. "All your staring at the door isn't going to bring them any faster."
"I can't help it – they were due over an hour ago," Harry said, tapping his foot impatiently to some uneven rhythm.
"There wasn't really a set time, you know," Draco retorted irritably, obviously trying to curb his own anxiety whilst simultaneously attempting to convince himself that he wasn't anxious. "It was an estimate."
"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" came an annoyed voice from behind them. "You two are completely pathetic."
Harry gritted his teeth as Pansy Parkinson's distinctive voice and footstep entered the hall. He didn't turn to look at her, but was fairly sure that she was giving them both looks of scorn behind their backs.
"I suggest you jump in front of the Knight Bus, Pans," Draco said flatly. He glanced sideways at Harry with a smirk. "And take Potter with you."
"I wouldn't take Potter anywhere if my life depended on it," Pansy retorted, sounding revolted.
"Good thing, too, or Blaise would skin you alive," Harry put in blandly, eyes still trained on the door.
"I'm sure she's just using you," Pansy said for the umpteenth time. She always said it, as if trying to convince herself that her best friend wasn't mad. "I mean, she's always had such excellent taste . . . well, except for fancying Draco – not sure what that was about."
Harry snorted and could just feel Draco's pointed features arranging themselves into a scowl beside him. Harry's relationship with Blaise was something no one at Hogwarts seemed to have been aware of. Harry was sure that they hadn't been going out long before he left, but apparently, they had been keeping quiet enough that no one, apart from Ginny or Draco, had been aware of it. So when Pansy, Nott, and the other Slytherins had begun arriving, they had been shocked and disgusted to discover that Blaise seemed to be "fraternizing with the enemy". Draco's word on the matter – "Let her fuck around if she wants, Pansy" – had kept any threats, insults, or unfriendly practical jokes to a minimum, but it frustrated Harry that they were acting as though it came as a complete surprise.
Surely they hadn't been that sneaky. Harry was about as good at keeping secrets – secrets about girls, anyway – as he was at wizard's chess.
"Nah, Blaise already tried to convince me she was using me," he told Pansy without turning. "She insisted she just kept me around because she needed a good shag. Then I pointed out that we weren't actually shagging . . . and she sort of ran out of steam."
Harry tried not to wince. Case in point: why had he just said that?
"What – you're not shagging yet?" Draco demanded, and Harry was sure his friend was looking at him. "Get a bloody move-on, what's the holdup?"
"That's rich," was all Harry said, but he could feel the heat of Draco's glower.
"Pans, I was looking for – oh, for god's sake, are they still staring at the door?"
Theodore Nott sounded as disgusted as Pansy had.
"And discussing Potter's nonexistent sex life," Pansy said, the revulsion now back in her voice.
"So that's why you're hanging around still – to hear about the countless multitudes I've been shagging lately?" Harry asked her coolly.
"Or lack thereof," Draco put in quietly.
"Hypocrite," Harry muttered out of the corner of his mouth.
"Virgin," Draco hissed back.
"Hypocrite," Harry muttered again.
"Pansy, are you still standing behind us?" Draco said, and Harry could tell he was deliberately changing the subject.
"No," she said, though she clearly hadn't moved.
"Is there something you want?" Draco asked, none too politely.
"She's bored," Nott told him.
"What else is new?" Draco shot back. "If she actually helped with something around here for a change –"
"Don't talk about me as if I'm not here!" Pansy snapped loudly.
Harry rolled his eyes and tried to remember a time with 5 Inmind Street had been a quiet, peaceful place. A time before student refugees had been moved here and the house was packed with angry, fearful Slytherins (in addition to a couple of Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and even a Gryffindor or two).
Despite the fact that it hadn't been even a month ago, he failed.
"Parkinson isn't in here because she's bored," Harry told Nott, ignoring Pansy's last statement. "She's worried about Blaise."
"Worried about Blaise?" Pansy repeated, as though this were the worst kind of insult. "How dare you imply that I care about that wretched twit?"
"She is your best friend," Harry pointed out, feeling annoyed (not an uncommon emotion to associate with Pansy). He knew they were best friends because he'd seen them together and Blaise had told him about their friendship several times. He couldn't remember when, exactly, but he was quite sure she had.
"In Slytherin, we don't have –" Pansy began.
"- friends, yeah, yeah," Harry cut her off. "You have close enemies. Heard it before."
"From who?" Draco asked him curiously.
"I – I have no idea," Harry said blankly, thinking hard and feeling uncomfortable when he drew a complete blank.
"Blaise, probably," Draco said, shrugging it off. "Anyway, Pans, if you can't say something useful, intelligent, or at least mildly interesting, please feel free to shove off."
"Bastard," Pansy muttered, but her retreating footsteps didn't come as much of a surprise.
"That's nice – just let the rest of us deal with her for a while," Nott said, throwing himself into a chair beside Harry.
"She'll settle down when Blaise gets here," Harry said, more confidently than he felt.
"Yeah, right," Nott said sardonically. "No offense, Potter, but you've only been dating the girl a couple months. Try living with her for seven years."
Harry glanced at Draco.
"He's got a point, mate," the blonde said, shrugging again.
"And I wish you two would stop that," Nott muttered. Harry turned slightly to look at him and saw him scowling.
"What?" he said blankly.
"Pretending to be friends!" Nott snapped. "It's annoyingly optimistic."
"Who says we're pretending?" Harry demanded indignantly.
"Don't be thick, Potter," Nott shot back. "You've been enemies since your first day at Hogwarts. And then suddenly, you've found a way to get expelled together and are living all nice and cozy-like in a cottage."
"He sounds jealous, Potter," Draco said, with another tight smile. "I'm so sorry, Teddy. Did you want to live with me all nice and cozy-like?"
"I'm smart enough to want as little to do with you as possible," Nott returned coolly. "You'd be wise to leave him be as well, Potter. He's a bit of a bastard."
"So Parkinson's told me." Harry turned back to the door, chewing his lip again. "What do we do if they're not here in another hour?" he said suddenly to Draco.
"What do you mean?" Draco said, sounding tense and irritable. "We can't do anything as it is."
"We could – I don't know – maybe . . ." Harry cursed in frustration.
"Dumbledore's been watching all of the transfers," Draco said shortly.
"Yeah? Well, Dumbledore makes mistakes," Harry retorted, although he relaxed a bit. Dumbledore had been overseeing the more dangerous transfers himself.
"He'd better not make one now," Draco muttered, his right hand fisting.
"Hey," Harry said, nudging him. "Since when are you the pessimistic one?"
Draco cracked a reluctant smile.
"Don't talk rubbish, Potter –" he began, but broke off as the latch on the front door clicked.
Both boys straightened, and even Nott got to his feet beside Harry.
"Oh, is something finally happening?" Pansy demanded as she came to peer over Draco's shoulder.
The four of them watched tensely as the door swung open and five figures came hurrying into the room. Harry felt his heart sink – none of them were teenaged.
"What the devil are you all blocking the entrance hall for?" came Snape's irritable drawl.
"Waiting for their girlfriends, I expect," George Weasley said, with a weak attempt at a smile.
Harry's sinking heart took an abrupt nosedive.
"What's happened, George?" he demanded.
"Don't be a nosy prat, Potter," Snape snapped.
"Or what? A thousand points from Gryffindor?" Harry retorted darkly. "George, what's up?"
Snape pushed roughly passed Harry, pressing a hand briefly to Draco's shoulder and allowing Nott and Pansy to accompany him into the kitchen.
"Miserable bastard," George muttered.
"George, please," Remus Lupin sighed, removing a Muggle windbreaker and running a hand over his greying hair.
"He's got a fair point, you know," Nymphadora Tonks said. "Wotcher, Harry!"
"Will one of you please tell us what's going on?" Draco said in a strained tone, clearly making something of an effort to be polite. It was rather futile.
The adults regarded them for a moment. Lupin, Tonks, George, and dark-eyed wizard whom Harry did not recognize shared a meaningful glance.
"It's important to them," George said after a moment's pause. "They've a right to know."
"You'd best fill them in, then, George," Lupin said tiredly. He and the others passed into the kitchen, Lupin gripping Harry's hand briefly.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, the instant the others had disappeared through the door. "Where's the last bunch?"
"It's a long story," George said. Harry noticed that he looked unusually serious, even haggard. Whatever was up, it was enough to make George upset, and something bad enough to make George upset . . .
"We've been moving the last few batches of students over the past week, as you probably know," George began, leading them into the sitting room off the entrance hall. "So far, we've moved every bunch successfully. I think eighty percent of the student body is out by now. You probably also know that the high risk kids are being moved, one at a time, with the groups of low risk kids, to keep them inconspicuous."
"Because if you were to move all of the high risk kids at once, it would probably be fairly obvious –" Harry guessed.
"Sure," George nodded. "And so far, it's worked to our advantage."
"So far," Draco repeated. He took a seat in a stiff-backed, out-of-place leather chair, looking tense.
George took a deep breath. Harry knew he didn't have any specific qualm with Draco – unlike his twin and younger brother, he could separate Draco from his family. Harry had a feeling that the deep breath was preparatory to unpleasant intelligence that he probably didn't want to think about.
"Ginny's group left first thing this morning," George said, swallowing over a gruffness in his tone. "She's considered high risk as a Weasley, but not Slytherin high risk. So one of the Slytherins – Zabini, I think – went in her group." George frowned. "From what I understand, Dumbledore insisted that they travel together." He shook his head. "Anyway, shortly after they left, Ron and Hermione's group went out." He paused for a moment, swallowing with even greater difficulty. "Neither group made it to their designated safe house."
Harry felt the blood drain from his face. His insides knotted up.
"You mean, they've –" Harry couldn't finish. An involuntary glance at Draco showed that his face was whiter than Harry's and his eyes as wide.
"Don't jump to conclusions," George said forcefully. "I said they'd vanished. But there's some good news."
"Good news?" Draco said uneasily.
"The good news," George said, taking a deep breath, "was that Dumbledore was with one of the groups. We don't know which, but there's no way that that group was harmed. The better news is that McGonagall and Sirius were with the other group. So their chances of survival aren't bad."
"But – but weren't they being smuggled out unconscious?" Draco demanded.
"The high risk students were," George said with a nod. "That means if – if they came under attack or anything, there was only one or two unconscious students per group."
Harry suddenly felt like the worlds biggest git. Here he was, having a freak-out because of his girlfriend and two closest friends, while George was facing the potential loss of his younger brother and sister.
"Sorry, mate," Harry muttered.
George didn't ask what he meant. He just said, "You're family, too, Harry. I know you're probably nerving out as well."
Draco suddenly got up and left the room. Harry listened to his feet as he jogged up the stairs, probably to their room. He felt an irrational stab of annoyance – it was Draco's family who were putting their friends in such danger, after all.
Harry's anger vanished as quickly as it had come. He supposed if Draco had an adoptive family like the Weasley's then he, Harry, would be jealous, too. In all the ways that mattered, they were both orphans now, and while Draco hadn't known that his entire life, Harry knew enough about the Slytherin to know that he didn't have anything like the kind of parental love and support that, say, George and Ron had.
"Twitchy little git," George said, without any rancor. He slumped back into the chairs and stared unseeing at out of one of the windows in the sitting room. Harry felt a certain level of sympathy, as well he might, but he also felt his own anguish. George had a brother and sister still out there, sure, but basically everyone that Harry deeply cared for had vanished. Ron and Hermione were his best friends, and he hoped they always would be. He and Ginny were close, although their transition from friends to close friends was an illusive memory, he had to admit. And Blaise . . .
Harry slumped backward in his seat as well, he chest giving a dull thud of pain. He felt like a bastard for reacting more in a more physically painful way to his girlfriend's plight than to that of his best friends and, assumedly, his godfather. But then, he supposed that he was used to Ron and Hermione being in danger. He was certainly used to worrying about what horrible situation they would get dragged into next, as a result of being his friend. He certainly had similar worries for Ginny, as even a distant connection with him had nearly killed her during her first year. And Sirius . . . Harry couldn't help smiling. His relationship with Sirius had involved nothing but anxiety. Why should this particular situation be any different?
But Blaise . . . he couldn't remember a time when they had ever been in a danger together. He had left Hogwarts, he had spent a month thinking it completely secure – he had missed her, but until overhearing Dumbledore's speech at the Order meeting, he had never associated Blaise and "being in danger". What was worse was that she was in danger and he could do nothing. Ron and Hermione and Ginny were in danger as well, but they had been in danger without him there to take care of them, hadn't they?
'So is that it?' he wondered suddenly. Did he not trust her to take care of herself? As far as he knew, she was a very capable person. How he knew this, he wasn't sure, but in any case, he knew.
"Harry?" George's voice said into his troubled thoughts.
Harry blinked and glanced over at him. The fourth oldest Weasley was watching him closely.
"Sorry," Harry mumbled, running a hand over his forehead. "Just thinking . . ."
"Don't hurt yourself," George said with a faint smile. He got to his feet and stretched. Harry could see the strain on his face and in his eyes, but he had grown up a lot in the last couple of years in the Order and he seemed to have excellent control of himself and his unease.
"I'm going to poke my head in and see if anything's changed."
"Later," Harry said, and George waved over his shoulder as he left.
Harry sat staring out of the same window that George had been favoring for a long time.
)WE(
Ginny blinked through the wall of rain, hoping her eyes were deceiving her. Sadly, they weren't. Slightly to the left sat 4 Inmind Street. On the right sat 6 Inmind Street. Neither of them looked nearly big enough to house any sort of headquarters, never mind those of the strongest underground resistance movement in wizarding history.
"Er – Professor?" she called cautiously over the rain. "What exactly are we looking for?"
Dumbledore smiled ever so faintly. Shifting the bundle in his arms, he reached into a pocket of his trench coat (which, Ginny thought, made him look even more eccentric than his usual robe ensemble) and handed a small scrap of paper across to her.
"Read, memorize, and drop this," he told her firmly. "Do not repeat it aloud."
Ginny read the small, loopy letters carefully.
"The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number Five, Inmind Street."
Ginny stared at the words. What did they mean? There wasn't a Number Five, Inmind St. In fact, Numbers Four and Six were so close together that sitting a tent between them seemed unlikely.
"Do you have it memorized?" Dumbledore said, a note of urgency in his voice. No wonder, too, for his load was heavy and the rain was adding at least ten pounds to their clothing. Never mind that they were probably being tailed.
"Yes," Ginny told him, taking a last good look at the paper before dropping it. The instant it hit the ground, it seemed to dissolve in the gushing water at her feet.
"All right, then," Dumbledore said. "Speak each word clearly and distinctly in your mind."
Ginny shrugged, screwed up her face, and thought, "The Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix is located at Number Five, Inmind Street –"
The last words were barely out of her mind, when a large house suddenly blossomed up between Numbers Four and Six. It looked as though it must have been crushing the tattered walls of both Four and Six, but there was no indication that either house's inhabitants (if there were any) noticed the change.
"Hurry," Dumbledore commanded, ushering her ahead of him toward the house, which had a large brass "5" to the left of it's massive white door. Ginny skipped up the steps, her heart hammering with adrenaline and nerves. Not only were they finally going to be safe, but she would be seeing her family again.
And Draco, a part of her mind pointed out helpfully.
Hands trembling from cold, she grasped the handle and turned.
The entrance hall was empty, but the warmth wrapped itself around Ginny like a blanket. She doubted it was actually that warm – after all, it was summer, so there probably wasn't a fire. But she was soaked clean through, and the lack of rain drilling through her parka was a relief.
"Who the devil –"
George came hurrying through from what appeared to be the kitchen, a dishtowel in his hand. He promptly dropped it.
"Ginny!" he breathed, and before she could take another breath or even smile, George had her in a bare hug.
"Everyone!" he bellowed. "Ginny's back!"
"Oh, dear," Dumbledore said mildly, as what sounded like a small stampede shook the house. He sounded thoroughly relieved and Ginny couldn't help grinning broadly. She hadn't heard much amusement in his voice during their trip.
"Ginny? Oh, thank Merlin, thank Merlin!" her mother cried hysterically, running in from the kitchen in a rare show of speed and pulling her away from George, who just had time to ruffle her hair before she vanished into her mother's ample bosom.
"Mum, you're suffocating her!" George laughed, as they were joined by Bill and Professor Lupin.
"You had us in a right state, kiddo," Bill said soberly, tugging her far enough from their mother to put his arms around her and pull her against him.
Another racket overhead made everyone look up. Harry and Draco were barreling down the stairs at breakneck speed.
"Ginny!" Harry said, and although he looked glad to see her, he looked anxious. "Ginny, thank god!"
He scooped her into his arms in a hug that was almost too tight. He set her on her feet and then glanced apprehensively over her shoulder.
"She's in there," she assured him, nodding toward the opening that Dumbledore had vanished through shortly after George's entrance.
"I – thanks, Gin," he said quietly. "Is – are you okay?"
"I'm fine," she assured him, squeezing his hand.
He gave her a small smile, before vanishing into the sitting room.
"You look it, Weasley."
Ginny glanced up at Draco, who was leaning on the banister with his arms crossed, trying not to look relieved or jealous. Ginny couldn't figure out why she could read him so well, or why she wanted to kiss him . . . again . . .
"Draco," she said deliberately, with a crooked smile. Gods, but she was glad to see him! "Don't you want to give me a hug?" she added wickedly, eyeing his designer robes and wondering why he bothered when he and Harry had been shut up in Headquarters for so long.
"And damage these robes?" was the predictable answer. "You're soiled, Weasley! Perhaps when you've boiled yourself –"
"Draco!" Ginny's mum said sharply.
Ginny shook her head, smiling stretching her cheeks. She was sure that two months ago, he would have been hexed for a comment like that. Now, it simply made her smile. Without a word, she stepped forward and put her arms around him.
"Ginny!" Bill and George said, trying to sound thoroughly scandalized.
Ginny felt Draco stiffen for a moment and she could feel water from her parka and jeans soaking into his thin robe. After a moment, he leaned hesitantly forward and put his arms around her briefly. It was a momentary reflex and Ginny felt his cheek rest briefly against the top of her head. Then he quickly pulled away. Ginny was delighted to see that she had saturated the entire front of his robes.
"Now look what you've done," he grumbled, staring down at himself in disgust.
"Come on, Draco, it's not like you haven't got five of the same robe upstairs," a voice jibed from the stairs.
"Shut up, Nott!" Draco said, sticking his nose in the air. "Each of my robes is specially tailored."
"Yeah, yeah," Theodore Nott muttered, with a lopsided smile. The expression was short-lived, as he was shoved aside by Pansy and Millicent.
"Where is she, Weasley?" Pansy demanded without preamble.
"Whomever do you mean, Parkinson?" Ginny said innocently, relishing her turn at smiting obnoxious Slytherins.
"You know damn well!" Millicent said fiercely.
"Millicent!" Mrs. Weasley said sharply. "That's quite enough. Your friend is in the sitting room with Harry and Professor Dumbledore."
Grumbling apologies half-heartedly to Mrs. Weasley and sending nasty looks in Ginny's direction, they hurried (trying to look as though they weren't hurrying) into the next room.
"Ginny, dear, you're dripping wet!" Mrs. Weasley said, bustling over and putting a strong arm round her shoulders. "Go upstairs and have a warm bath, and I'll fetch some tea. Are you hungry?"
"Starving," Ginny said, gratefully leaning into her mother's embrace for a moment.
"As soon as your bath is done, you hop into bed and I'll bring you something to eat," Mrs. Weasley said, kissing her cheek. "Draco can show you were the lavatory is. I'm afraid this house isn't very large, so you'll be sleeping with the other girls in the master bedroom."
"Other girls?" Ginny said, with a sinking feeling in her gut.
"Don't worry, Weasley," Draco said, smirking. "Just Millie and Pans and a few others."
Ginny glared at him.
"Almost makes me wish I was still battling a rainstorm," she muttered.
"Don't be silly, dear," her mother said chidingly. "They're perfectly . . . nice young women and so are you. Anyway," she added in a sharper tone, with looks for both Draco and Ginny, "it isn't as though you've got house rivalries to think of, is it?"
"No, mum," they both muttered.
"Now, Draco, you take her upstairs and run a bath with some of those juniper bubbles under the sink," Mrs. Weasley said.
Draco waited until her back was turned to give Ginny a very suggestive look. Ginny gave him a not-at-all gentle nudge, before pushing passed him up the stairs, trying to ignore the abrupt, inexplicable wave of déjà vu that she was feeling. His suggestive look, and position on the stairs . . . Ginny blinked, trying to remember whatever it was that had stirred her reaction, but nothing came to mind.
"We'd best keep an eye on him, Bill," George said from the foot of the stairs, his overloud voice cutting off Ginny's reverie.
"He'll mind himself," Bill said, laughing as Draco turned a nasty look in their direction. "I don't think he fancies all seven of Ginny's big brothers breathing down his neck."
"Ignore them," Ginny advised, suppressing a giggle. "Anyway," she added, recollecting herself, "it's not as if they've anything to protect me from. We're not dating and it's not as though you're interested in me."
"No kidding," Draco said, after a minute, almost unnoticeable pause. Clearing his throat, he said, "You don't have seven brothers."
"They're talking about Harry," Ginny said, shaking her head. "He might as well be my brother."
To her surprise, Draco didn't respond. At the first landing, Ginny took advantage of drawing level with him and looked at his face. He didn't look angry so much as upset. It wasn't his expression, which remained stoic and a bit contemptuous, but his eyes were stirring with something that, again, made Ginny feel as though they had experienced a similar situation before.
She didn't speak again until they reached the bathroom door.
"Bollocks!" she said. "I haven't any dry clothes."
"Or clean ones," Draco pointed out, the trouble leaving his eyes as they crinkled with amusement. "What did you lot get up to?"
"Wouldn't you like to know?" Ginny said haughtily, pushing passed him into the lavatory and flipping on the light. It was a surprisingly large room. The bathtub stood on clawed feet just under the window, and looked large enough to fit Hagrid comfortably. Ginny let out a sigh of contentment and pulled her sodden parka over her head. It actually made a plopping sound as it hit the tiled floor.
It was then that she realized that Draco was still standing in the doorway, and she felt a hot flush rise up her neck.
"Oh, no, don't stop on my account," he said. Ginny didn't dare turn for fear that he would see her face, but she could hear the amused leer in his tone.
"That's really okay," she said. "On your way out, would you mind fetching that bubble bath mum mentioned and setting on the sink?"
"But she wanted me to draw your bath," Draco pointed out, his voice decided dangerous.
Ginny stiffened, partly in anticipation and partly in self-disgust at such a reaction on his behalf. Before she could object, however, he had pulled the blue bottle from beneath the sink and moved to sit on the generous rim of the tub. Crossing his legs casually, as though he did this every day, he curled his fingers round the hot water tap and cranked it open. Then he twirled open the cap of the bubble bath and dribbled some of the green liquid into the flow of water.
Ginny realized that her mouth was hanging open and her face was still burning.
Oh, Merlin – I'm turned on by him running a bath, she thought, feeling mortified.
"Not that that wasn't something I could have done for myself," she snapped, planting her hands on her hips and determining that if he was going to be a prat, she wasn't going to show that it was having any effect on her.
"But you must be so tired," he said softly, setting the bottle on the rim of the tub and standing. He moved slowly toward her.
"I'm not . . . tired," she protested, biting her lip as he advanced. It wasn't a predatory move, but a seductive one. Something about it both excited Ginny and put her at her ease. She was quite sure she wasn't used to feeling that sort of safety with Draco. She had a sudden flashback of their kiss on the stairs to Dumbledore's office.
"Don't you dare kiss me like that again until I can see you every day," she had told him then.
"Not tired?" Draco repeated. He reached a finger up and trailed it down her arm.
"No," Ginny whispered. He was quite close, and Ginny shifted her eyes from his collarbone to his face. His lip quirked in a smile and his eyes were nearly black, with a ring of dark grey barely doing his irises justice. Hesitantly, Ginny lifted her hand and placed it on his chest. Yet another moment of déjà vu seized her as familiar muscle jumped under her hand. When they had kissed in the stairs, she hadn't actually touched his chest.
She quite wished she had.
The hand that had been trailing on her arm caught her hand against his chest and brought it to his lips, his eyes never leaving hers. Ginny's heart gave an electric jolt in her chest when his lips brushed first her palm, then her wrist.
Footsteps in the hall outside made Draco drop her hand hastily.
"Ginny, dear," came her mother's voice from the other side of the closed door. "Are you decent?"
"Ye – yes," Ginny said, gritting her teeth as felt a blush creep onto her cheeks. Draco, meanwhile, was reseating himself on the rim of the bathtub and smirking something awful.
"Here's your tea," Mrs. Weasley said, bustling in and not appearing to notice Ginny's heightened color or the smirk that Draco was taking pains to remove from his face. "Still in those dripping clothes?" she went on, setting the teacup down on the rim of the tub beside Draco and shaking her head at Ginny. "Into that tub with you – Draco, dear, would you turn that water off? Thank you."
"Mum, I don't have any dry clothes," Ginny blurted out.
"I'll send Bill to the Burrow tonight," Mrs. Weasley said. "In the meantime, I'll bring you something from Millicent or Pansy's trunks. I'm sure they won't mind sharing."
"I'm sure not," Draco murmured, his lip twitching again.
"Come along out and let Ginny have a good, long soak, Draco," Mrs. Weasley ordered, apparently not noticing his traitorous lip. "Ginny, would you like a book or something to read?"
"That . . . that would be nice," Ginny said, sitting down on the lid of the toilet and beginning to tug at her sodden socks. It gave her an excuse not to look at Draco.
"I brought a couple good ones," the dratted boy said, his voice neutral. "Shall I bring you one?"
"Do that, Draco," Mrs. Weasley said. "Ginny, love, do you need anything else?"
"No," Ginny said, managing to coax her sock off at last.
"I'll be downstairs tending to Miss Zabini, then," her mum said. Ginny thought for a moment that she had left, as her eyes were still on her sock, but then she felt a hand on her chin. She lifted her eyes to meet those of her mother, whose own were shining.
"I'm so very, very glad you're home, my love," she said quietly, stroking Ginny's dirty cheek.
"Me, too, Mum," she said, putting her arms around her mother's waist as she had done when a small girl and resting her head on her mother's bosom. Mrs. Weasley's lips brushed the top of her head and her hand ran over Ginny's hair. At last, she pulled back and patted Ginny's shoulder. Her expression suggested that she was restraining a good deal of emotion and Ginny couldn't help remembering the time she had come home from a summertime walk with Charlie last year to find her mum sobbing over a picture of their entire family. She feared for them, Ginny knew, and with reason. They were all in danger, and with Ginny missing for a week and Ron (if – when he got back) and Harry about to join the Order, everyone her mum loved was on the line.
"Take your bath," Mrs. Weasley said, moving to the door. "Go find Ginny her book, Draco."
Ginny jumped. She had forgotten that Draco was still there, perched on the edge of the bathtub.
"Sure, Mrs. Weasley," he responded, his voice odd.
Ginny glanced at his face and was surprised to see that the playful edge was gone and a darker expression, like the one she had seen in his eyes on the staircase, had come over it. Before Ginny could study it too carefully, he had vanished through the door after her mum.
She stared after him for a moment, before shaking herself and closing the door in their wake. Hopefully whatever book Draco was planning on bringing was thin so he could slide it under the door.
She wiggled her way out of her sopping jeans, pried the sleeves of her shirt off of her arms and pulled the resistant garment over her head. Her underclothes went more easily and at last, she stepped into the wonderfully bubbly bath. Her foot seared at first, going from icy to burning in an instant. She bore the discomfort with clenched teeth, forcing her other foot in as well. Standing there, with her feet and lower legs aching, she couldn't help smiling at the familiar scent of juniper that rose from the steamy tub. Juniper was her mother's solution to every ailment, and although there was no medical knowledge to back this up, Mrs. Weasley lived by it. Ginny suspected that her tea would be particularly potent (i.e. bitter) juniper with loads of honey.
Slowly, she eased the rest of her tired body into the bubbling water, delighting in the way the water wrapped around her and sent a tingling warmth from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Grinning, she ducked her head under the water and allowed herself to float, submerged for a good thirty seconds while the wonderful warmth soaked into her face and hair. She stayed under water as long as she could, then burst through the wall of bubbles, taking a breath of juniper-laden air.
Suddenly, she was nose to nose with Draco Malfoy.
She shrieked in surprise, automatically lowering her body into the bubbles. How had he come in within the half a minute she had been under water without her noticing?
Draco clamped a hand over her mouth.
"Shut it, Gin!" he hissed. "I don't want your twenty brothers skinning me alive. Promise you won't scream if I take my hand away!" There was nothing threatening in the way he said it – Ginny could read the vague panic in his face at the thought of her brothers. She nodded her head and he withdrew his hand, sitting back on his heals beside the tub.
"Pervert!" she hissed, glaring at him. "What the hell were you doing?" Good thing her face was flushed from the water, because, blast it, she was blushing again.
"I just came to bring your book," he retorted. "I was just going to leave it on the sink, but then I noticed that you seemed to have been under water for longer than was natural and I came over to make sure you were okay, since you didn't seem to hear me come in, and you tried to head-butt me!"
"I didn't!" she said indignantly, sliding a little further under the fortunately impenetrable layer of bubbles, through which only her head seemed to be visible. "I was just rinsing my hair."
"Right," he said. He was silent for a moment, staring at Ginny in a decidedly unsettling way. Not at all predatory, Ginny was quick to notice, but speculating, certainly.
"What?" she demanded.
"I can't help noticing you're naked, Weasley," he said bluntly, a smirk toying with a corner of his lips.
Ginny glanced fervently over the layer of bubbles, relieved to see that they weren't giving anything away apart from her head.
"Not notice literally," he assured her after she had taken stock.
"You are a pervert!" Ginny said sharply. "Get out or I might reconsider and scream my head off for my brothers."
"Oh, come on, Gin," he said in a surprisingly wheedlesome tone. Ginny looked piercingly at him, and saw that, while his lip was still twitching, he didn't look ready to try and ravish her, either. "I just want to talk."
"Yeah, right!" she blurted.
"Okay, so I want other things as well –and really, who can blame me?" he asked, pouting at her in a way that nearly made her burst out laughing, so ridiculous was it. "But, really, I can control myself –"
"You expect me to believe that?"
"Mostly," he finished. "I just want to talk to you. I've not seen you in a while, have I?"
"I – no, I guess not," she said cautiously. He wanted to talk to her? "So, what? You want to know about how school was going?"
He laughed at her suspicious expression.
"Sure, that's a fair place to start," he said with a shrug.
"But – why?"
"Why, what?"
"Why do you want to know about how school is going?" she asked, still mightily suspicious.
"Did I say that's what I wanted to know?" he said, annoyed now. "I said it was a good place to start."
Ginny sighed. He wanted something, and he wasn't going to tell her what, for all her prodding. Anyway, Ginny wasn't going to deny that she had missed him terribly (the why of it still escape her) and had questions of her own for him.
"Fine," she said, defeated.
"Huh – I wasn't expecting you to give in," he said, pooling a dressing gown that hadn't been in there when they had first come in on the ground and sliding down the wall to sit on it. "Bloody uncomfortable," he grumbled.
"So," Ginny said, leaning against the back of the tub and taking a deep, juniper-y breath. "What do you want to know?"
"This isn't a bloody interrogation," he snapped. "I'm trying to have a conversation with you, Weasley."
"If that's so," Ginny said, unable to stop herself, "you'd best keep calling me Ginny. Or Gin. Or Ginevra. 'Weasley' is what you call Ron and I hope you're a bit more keen on me than you are on him."
"A bit more," he muttered, but shook his head. "Sure – whatever you want, Ginevra."
"Right, then," she said, slowly. "Well, after you and Harry left things went on as usual, although there was a lot of speculation about why you and Harry had left. No one knew about him and Blaise, so we didn't have to answer loads of questions, but – oh, speaking of which . . ." Ginny turned to look at him curiously. "I know this is really ridiculous, but can you remember anything about Blaise and Harry getting together?"
"Nothing," Draco said, shaking his head. "Potter and I've been circle round that, as well as how we suddenly became friends. We can remember shaking on it outside Dumbledore's office, but the why of it is sort of mystery."
"Good thing Ron didn't know about it," Ginny muttered. "That's going to be hell, when he finds out." She sobered at the thought of her brother and Hermione, still somewhere unknown with Sirius and McGonagall. "Anyway," she went on quickly, trying not to think of her brother and the agony her mother was probably suffering on his behalf, "another thing Blaise and I couldn't figure out was how in the name of arse we had suddenly become friends. I mean, at first, we could both remember, but as time went on . . ."
"Details sort of trickled away, until it didn't make any sense," Draco finished, glancing sideways her with a nod. "Yeah, Potter and I had the same problem. I tried writing down everything I remembered, but – well, it was weird. Every day, I'd open the parchment I wrote everything down on and it was like someone run an eraser over parts of it. Some words would just be faded, others would be gone. Every day, the earlier entries would fade a bit more, until –"
Draco fished in a pocket and removed a small notebook of parchment, which he passed silently to Ginny. He didn't seem to mind if the notebook was damaged by water, so Ginny lifted her hand from beneath the bubbles, shook excess water from it, and took the notebook gingerly. Flipping through it, she saw what he meant.
"I take it you've not done this for a while," she said, noting that it looked as though he had never written anything.
"Gave up ages ago," he acknowledged, taking it back. "Potter and I decided it wasn't worth the effort. It seems to me . . ." he trailed off, his eyes narrowing as though he was trying to remember something. "Whatever we did, it was important, or we wouldn't have been in Dumbledore's office. And he said something about Unspeakables."
"Whatever we did," Ginny said, and she thought it quite a jump to imagine that they had done anything, "if Unspeakables were involved, a record would be available in the Department of Mysteries." She paused, watching his closed expression closely. "You want to go try to find out what we did?"
"Nah, Potter's put me off it," Draco sighed, rubbing his eyes. "Git's right – there are more important things right now."
"Like the war," Ginny murmured, frown deepening into a scowl as she watched the rippling bubbles. "Bloody You-Know-Who. Why couldn't he die the first bloody time?"
"You were going to tell me about the rest of your year," Draco pointed out, and looking sharply at him, Ginny saw him grinning slightly.
"What?" she demanded.
"You're a bit of a spitfire, aren't you?" he teased, reaching over the tub's rim and tweaking Ginny's ear. She retaliated by slapping his hand away none too gently. "Go on, then," he grouched, rubbing his hand. "Who've you been beating without me around?"
"Why, I have hordes of admirers, Draco," Ginny said, switching to sickly sweet in an instant. She liked the blonde riled up. "I'm been beating them off with a mallet."
"I'm sure," he snorted, not rising to the bait. "Did you get to your exams?"
"No," Ginny said, sulkily. "Days before, and Dumbledore told us the school was closing down and everyone was being sent to safe houses."
"Potter and I overheard the Order meeting when they decided to do that, yeah," Draco nodded.
"Wait – you and Harry are in the Order, aren't you?" Ginny said in surprise. In Dumbledore's office, she had been under the impression that they were going to join the Order.
"By join the old bat didn't actually mean join," Draco said darkly. He looked mildly hacked off. "By join he meant being holed up here for a thousand years so we could finish our N.E.W.T.s and we could practice some defensive study."
"Have you taken your N.E.W.T.s yet?" Ginny asked curiously.
"Nope," Draco said. "We're waiting round for Granger and Weasley and then the lot of us are having the test proctored for us. At first, Dumbledore thought he could get some old clod from the Ministry to proctor for us, but he doesn't think it's safe to bring anyone in from 'the outside'," and here, Draco made dramatically oversized quotation marks in the air with his fingers. "So various Aurors are going to be in charge of most of the testing. Dumbledore knows the format, and bloody Minister Fudge will accept anything signed by him saying that the tests were taken fairly."
"Least you'll get to sit them," Ginny said rather forlornly. She still had a whole year before she would be ready, and by the looks of things, Hogwarts was on lock down for an indefinite period of time. "And at least you'll be officially out and ready to fight with the Order."
"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Draco ordered, though his tone was just shy of a snap. "At least you'll survive the war."
Ginny's head whipped around as she stared at him. He didn't look especially upset, but the closed expression on his face told Ginny that he had said more that he meant to. She felt a pang.
"You're going to, too, Draco," she said firmly. "You guys are barely out of school. The Order isn't going to put you on the front line for a long while yet."
"Don't be so bloody optimistic," he retorted. "Potter and I are targets. Voldemort will hunt us down, even if we tuck tail and hide at HQ for bloody eternity. Which," he said, with a sardonic smile, "we both know Potter isn't going to do."
Ginny bit her lip.
"Sitting around being protected might sound nice," she said slowly, "but honestly, Draco, I don't think I'll be able to stand it. Knowing that my friends and family are in terrible danger and not being able to do anything."
"Tell me how you all got out of the castle," Draco said abruptly.
"I – what?" Ginny said.
"The castle, Weasley," Draco bit out, and Ginny suddenly realized that he desperately wanted to change the subject.
"Um," she said slowly. "Well, we were told the night before we left. We were told to pack our belongings into our trunks and put on our warmest robes, even though it was summer. We didn't actually bring any of our stuff with us, though. Then we were assigned groups – group 1, 2, 3, 4, and so on – but we weren't told who was in each. I expect that Dumbledore didn't want to risk any of the kids who might already be involved in Voldemort's cause getting their group caught."
"Makes sense," Draco said. Ginny was relieved to see that his face had relaxed a bit. "But what if he sent a Death Eater off with a group of kids?"
"I asked Hermione and she told me that each group leader was going to be performing an 'arm check'," Ginny said. "You know, for the Dark Mark."
"How do you know about –"
"Harry told me."
"Of course. Go on."
"I'm not sure what they were supposed to do with those who'd been marked, if there were any."
"There were," Draco said darkly. "Trust me."
"Dunno what was done with them, then," Ginny said. "Good bet their memories were modified and they were put on the train home. The rest of us were snuck out through various passages under the school, one group at a time. The rest of us were monitored constantly, and once we had collected our things, were kept under armed guard in the Great Hall. No one was to leave for any reason until our assigned group left."
"Did you all make it out in time?" Draco asked.
"Almost," Ginny said, her stomach clenching at the memory that had had a week to settle in. "The teachers and ghosts were on constant alert. No even the Prefects or Head Boy or Girl were allowed to help with guard duty. Then," and Ginny had to pause for a moment as her throat tightened. "Then, one of the middle groups was reported missing by Madam Rosmerta, who was the Hogsmeade checkpoint, where everyone was Portkeying out. Dumbledore contacted the Ministry, but didn't dare leave us alone, because it might have been a trap to lure him from Hogwarts, and he's the one who holds the key to all of the wards protecting us."
"What happened?" Draco asked, leaning forward. "Did that group make it okay?"
"I – I haven't heard," Ginny said quietly. "Dumbledore wouldn't tell me anything, because on the off-chance I was captured, he didn't want me to be able to say anything important."
Draco's expression darkened.
"What?" Ginny asked.
He shook his head. "Go on."
"So Dumbledore decided that we needed a faster method of transport and began dropping the wards for an instant to allow groups to Portkey directly from the Great Hall. You know that since fifth year, Portkeys haven't worked on the grounds."
"Yeah, I knew," Draco said. "But wasn't dropping the wards dangerous –"
He was caught off as the door opened. Ginny shrieked again and ducked as far under the water as she could get and still see the door.
"Sorry," Pansy said, not looking particularly so. "Door wasn't locked."
"You could've knocked," Ginny snapped, relaxing. It was just a girl, after all.
"Well, since I'm here anyway," Pansy said, eyeing Draco beadily. "Get on with whatever you're doing."
"As soon as you get out," Ginny retorted hotly.
"Save yourself the trouble and let her listen, Gin," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "She'll want to hear all this, too."
"Ask Blaise," Ginny said to Pansy. "Anyway, you know most of it."
"I don't know about how you got lost. And Blaise won't tell me anything," Pansy said, looking supremely brassed. "Too busy snogging Potter."
"Thanks for that," Draco said, wincing. "I thought we'd decided earlier that anything involving Potter snogging or shagging was not worth thinking about. Ugh, Pansy!"
She stopped scowling long enough to smirk at him. Then she crossed the room and took a seat on the toilet.
"Go on, Weasley," she said imperiously.
"Oh, yes, of course, your bloody highness," Ginny muttered.
"Don't be cross, Ginny-love," Draco put in, reaching out toward her ear again. Ginny snapped her teeth at him and he yanked it back. "All right, all right," he mumbled, sneering at her. "No need to get touchy."
"You, either," she said pointedly, turning up her nose. "Now, where was I?"
"Portkeying from the Great Hall," Draco prompted sulkily.
"Oh, yeah." Ginny was feeling a bit warm now, so she sat up, glad the bubbles rose nearly to the rim of the tub, and leaned her elbows on the edge of side of the tub, resting her chin on her hands. "So about half the groups had already gone, and the others began Portkeying at random intervals. Dumbledore didn't want there to be a pattern, so he tried to stagger as much as possible. First group went, then an hour later, another, then five minutes later, another, then a half hour – anyway, you get the idea.
"So it worked brilliantly until there were only three groups left."
"You forgot to mention the bit about those of us who Dumbledore doesn't like being knocked unconscious," Pansy put in snarkily.
"It wasn't because he didn't like you, you twit," Ginny said, half exasperated, and half irritated. "You're high-risk. If the Dark Lord had a blood connection through any of your families, he might have been able to use it to pull the location from you, if you found out the location of your safe house."
"She knows that, Gin," Draco said, glaring at Pansy, who was smirking. "Shut up and let her get on with it. I want to know what happened."
Pansy pouted, but Draco ignored her.
Ginny opened her mouth, and the door opened again.
"For Christ's sake!" she bit out, as Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott came wandering in. "Did someone put a sign on the door say, 'Bloody well come watch Ginny Weasley have a bath'?"
When no one immediately responded, Ginny's eyes narrowed.
"Parkinson?" she said dangerously.
Pansy smirked in demure satisfaction.
"Not a note, exactly," she said, rather too smugly for Ginny's taste. "But I may have left the door open – a bit – in case Millie or Nott or . . . anyone, happened alone."
Ginny glanced at the door, which was cracked open.
"Don't call me that," Millicent ordered, taking a seat beside Draco.
"Argh!" Ginny said, burying her face in her arms. A hand on her hair jerked her out of her somewhat embarrassed silence.
"You really need to relax," Draco pointed out, pulling his hand away before Ginny could hit, bite, or otherwise damage it.
"Oh, that's rich," she said. "I should relax with a roomful of Slytherins who would probably take great pleasure in my humiliation and the fact the you're sitting on my only means of modesty."
"Come, come," Teddy said, winking. "Those bubbles look thick enough."
"For now, maybe," Ginny said, groaning. "Look, if I tell you everything, will you please leave?"
"What do you think?" Pansy asked the others.
"Sure, we'll go," Millicent said. "But you'd better tell us everything, because it's our clothes you'll be borrowing tonight."
"And it's thrilling me, let me tell you," Ginny deadpanned. "What about it, Draco?"
"Oh, no," he said, smiling mischievously. "You and I have some – other things to discuss."
Ginny banged her hand on the rim of the tub as the other three started making Lavender Brown-worthy cooing noises.
"I hate all of you, just for the record," she said, glaring around at them.
"My life's work accomplished in under five minutes," Pansy said. "Well, go on. The three of us all know what happened with the Portkeying. You were to the bit where there were three groups left."
"Right," Ginny said, taking a deep breath. The next part still made her shiver. She had experienced more adventure, fear, and victory than the average sixteen-year-old, but that didn't make her immune to it. She still hadn't had time to recap everything in her mind and deal with resulting emotions.
"Gin?" Draco's voice made her blink.
"Sorry," she said, drawing another determined breath. "So there were the three groups left. It had been a half-hour since the last time the wards had been dropped, but Dumbledore decided we were running out of time."
"Did you ever find out why we didn't all just go at once?" Millicent cut in.
"Because the magic of all of the Portkeys firing at once might have overwhelmed the castle wards, Dumbledore told me," Ginny said impatiently. She wished she could just get to her nub – it would be easier that way.
"Why would that matter? It's not like we'd need them once the castle was deserted," Nott said, his brow furrowing.
"It wasn't that," Ginny said exasperatedly. "Enough stress on the wards might have damaged the structure of the castle. The magic is built into the foundation of the castle and grounds. Just dropping them doesn't make them non-existent – just dropped. They're still breakable. Now, can I continue?" No one objected, and Ginny rolled her eyes. "Thank you. Anyway, Dumbledore dropped the wards and right as the third to last group's Portkey fired, about a dozen Death Eaters suddenly Apparated in."
Ginny was mildly satisfied when this proclamation elicited hisses and gasps of surprise.
"Death Eaters?" Draco said, his eyes wide with absolute incredulity. "How the – I mean, how is it possible? Hogwarts is supposed to be the safest building in Britain!"
"Suppose to be. Why do you think it was evacuated, Draco?" Pansy said, though she sounded awed herself. "Because it isn't the safest building in Britain anymore. Dumbledore would never have closed it down otherwise."
"So what's the weakness?" Millicent murmured, her brow furrowed.
"Well, Dumbledore did say this funny thing, after we'd escaped," Ginny broke in. "He was like, 'A school should not become a fortress.' I think part of problem is that Dumbledore doesn't want a building full of kids becoming a military target. And he's got a point. But anyway, with the wards down, there obviously wasn't any sort of protection."
"And the Death Eaters were probably constantly monitoring the wards," Nott speculated. "I reckon You-Know-Who would want it studied in microscopic detail and kept monitored for any deviation."
"Like this one," Ginny nodded.
"So – a dozen Death Eaters," Draco said, his voice taking on that familiar oddness again. He met her eyes. "Recognize any of them?"
There was a very tense pause.
"They – they were masked, weren't they?" Ginny said quietly, knowing that they would all know she was opting for evasion. "Anyway, I was too busy going for my wand, wasn't I?"
"Going for your wand?" Draco said loudly. "The hell you were! You didn't plan to fight them?"
"To defend myself and my friends!" Ginny retorted, defensively. "I wasn't going to run and hide!"
"Why the hell not?" Draco snapped, his spine rigid. "What makes you think you've got any chance against a Death Eater? You'd cry like a little school girl if you knew half the dark spells they use for fun!"
"I am a little school girl," Ginny said coldly, leaning away from him against the back of the bathtub. "And I have faced far more horrific things, Draco Malfoy, than a bunch of men who think they know how to use magic. Are you lot through interrupting me or can I carry on? This isn't pleasant, and I'd rather tell it and get it over."
Draco sat back against the wall, glaring at Pansy's knee, which was eye-level. He was apparently too sullen to wonder what she meant about facing far more horrific things than any of the Death Eaters had ever seen, and Ginny was decidedly relieved.
"Fortunately, most of the younger students had been sent on ahead, so it was just my group, which had a few third years, Blaise and I, and several sixth year Ravenclaws," Ginny continued after a moment's pause. "Dumbledore started firing spells right away and told us to get behind him. McGonagall's group did the same. Our numbers were even, but the Death Eaters set up a defensive magical barrier right away. Well, Dumbledore had enough time to raise the wards, of course, to keep more Death Eaters out. As it was, we didn't know if there were other groups in other parts of the castle. I mean, us kids didn't. Dumbledore could probably tell with the wards up.
"Well, the Death Eaters were in front of the main door, so Dumbledore told us to make for the door behind the teacher's table. We made it and he locked and barricaded the door. He told us that the Death Eaters were probably waiting for him to drop the wards again, and we couldn't risk any more of them, or worse," she swallowed, "You-Know-Who himself. Dumbledore could probably have fought him, but not with loads of kids to protect as well."
"So what happened?" Pansy asked. All pretense of disinterest had left her face and she was leaning toward Ginny, her elbows propped on her knees.
"He said he wasn't leaving Hogwarts full of Death Eaters, so he made some calls and suddenly a bunch of members of the Order appeared."
They all opened their mouths to protest.
"No, shut up and let me finish," Ginny ordered. "I know it's weird, but they had special access to the wards, apparently. It's not that you can't Apparate through wards, it's that you have to fit. It's like – think of a fence with a hole in the middle. Some animals – cats and so on – can fit, because they're the right size and height. But dogs and rats can't because dogs are too big and rats are too low to the ground to jump through."
"So these people are given holes in the ward that fit just them," Millicent said slowly.
"Yes," Ginny said. "I don't understand it, but –"
"Blood bonds," Draco murmured suddenly, to himself. "Blood bonds, blood brothers . . ."
"Malfoy, what're you jabbering about?" Nott asked, eyeing him uncertainly.
"Shove it – oh, why can't I remember?" he growled.
"Draco, it this about – you-know-what, earlier?" Ginny asked suddenly. He had that look that she had seen on Blaise's face when she couldn't quite remember something from whatever had happened before Dumbledore's office and she couldn't quite pin it down.
"Yeah – yeah," he said distractedly. "Blood – it's all to do with blood."
"Uh, yes - lots of blood," Pansy said, leaning away from him. "Can you move on, please? Now, Weasley?"
"Sure, sure," Ginny said, watching Draco frown and mutter for a moment longer, before giving up. If he was meant to remember, he would. At least, she hoped so. "Um – so Bill and George were there, and Professor Lupin, and Tonks and Shacklebolt, the Aurors. They said they'd deal with the Death Eaters, but to get us kids out of there. Naturally, we wanted to help, but Dumbledore kept telling us that we weren't ready and rubbish. I was kind of surprised he didn't stay, actually, because he controls the wards. But then I realized that him leaving was like taking away the key to Hogwarts. Without him there, there was no possible way the wards, at least, could be breached."
"Which means that whatever the danger to us was, it wasn't the wards," Pansy pointed out. "It was something else."
"Right, yeah," Ginny said. "And again, I think it had something to do with Dumbledore talking about a school being no place for a fortress."
"Wait," Nott said slowly, his eyes narrowed. "With us kids gone, it's not a school anymore . . ."
"So it could be turned into a fortress," Draco finished darkly. "It's one of the strongest, most protected buildings in Britain. Why not use as a base of operations for the Order?"
They all sat considering this idea for a moment. Ginny didn't know about the others, but the idea of Hogwarts being turned into a machine of war was upsetting.
"Anyway, Weasley," Pansy said at length, shaking her head slightly. "Go on with your story."
"So Bill and them left to set up booby traps and we were snuck out through several secret doorways," Ginny said after a deep breath. She could consider Hogwarts later. "By then the Death Eaters had spread out, but we managed to evade them and made it out through different passages into Hogsmeade, from which we made for the safe houses on foot, and then from the safe houses here."
"Why not Portkey?" Nott asked.
"We could have been traced, and they knew we were coming out through Hogsmeade," Ginny said. "Those Death Eaters who got into Hogwarts could just as easily leave on foot, Apparate to You-Know-Who, mention that they knew which groups were left, and then it would have been a simple matter of tracing our magical trails from Portkeys, etc. The safe houses are warded and everything, but not impossible to find. So, we walked. It wasn't so bad – I mean, we took Muggle taxis and the like, which is slow, but not as slow as walking. So we ran a little late."
"And we can probably assume the other group's okay, too," Pansy said slowly. "Just taking their sweet time losing any pursuers and enjoying Muggle transport. It's Granger's preferred method of travel, I'm sure."
"Lay off Hermione," Ginny said tiredly, slumping sideways against the side of the tub and rubbing her temples. She was drained. The tension of the previous week – loads of walking, having to be sneaky and magickless, supporting the younger students until they reached the safe house – it all made her feel exhausted.
"I think that's enough interrogation for now," Draco spoke up quietly. "Leave poor Gin to her soak, you lot."
"Ooh, aren't we all concerned and parenty all of a sudden," Millicent said.
Ginny opened her eyes and looked round at the four Slytherins. They were all, she realized, as tense, worried, and exhausted as she was. She suddenly remembered that she hadn't told them if she had seen their parents amongst the invasion party in the Great Hall. But even as she opened her mouth, she knew that it really wasn't important. The point was that their families – brothers, sisters, parents – were probably all out there.
They were orphans, one way or another.
Ginny glanced at Draco, suddenly understanding his sudden fits of oddity that afternoon –
Every time anyone mentioned family. Of bloody course!
"That's all I have to tell," she spoke up at last. "Sorry. Dumbledore or Blaise might be able to tell you more, but –"
"No, I think you did fine, Gin."
Blaise and Harry stepped around the door.
"Oh, do please come in," Ginny said, rolling her eyes but glad to see them nonetheless. Harry, she noticed, had the grace to lower his eyes – a gesture that neither of the Slytherin boys had bothered with.
"I'm here to kick you out, as it happens," Blaise told her. "Your mum has ordered me to send you to bed so you can have your tea." She glanced pointedly at the full teacup on the bathroom sink.
"And what has Potter to do with your bathing, Blaise?" Nott asked sharply.
"Nothing – he just won't be arsed to leave me be," Blaise said, and Ginny was pretty sure she was the only one who saw the flicker of warmth in Blaise's sarcastic purple eyes.
"Nauseating," Pansy said, getting to her feet and pushing passed Blaise and Harry. "Come on, Millie, we might be able to dig up something for our tea if we go down to Mrs. Weasley."
"I doubt it – she's too busy with the poor invalids," Millicent snarked back, contemptuously. "And for Merlin's sake, don't call me Millie! Teddy, Draco?"
"I'll be along in a moment," Draco told her, pushing himself to his feet and shaking out the crumpled bathrobe. Nott shook his head at Draco and followed the girls.
The door closed on the three Slytherins and their muttering and the bathroom became silent.
"Well," Harry said at length. "Together again, huh?"
"Wouldn't miss it," Draco nodded, leaning back against the wall and allowing a small smile to pass over his lips.
"In less than ideal conditions, you might add," Ginny said pointedly.
"Admit it, Gin," Blaise said, quirking a smile. "It's sort of sexy."
"Or something," Ginny stressed.
There was a pause – a surprisingly comfortable silence in which no one moved or looked at anyone else, but simply stood and breathed in the juniper and temporary peace of the large lavatory.
"Very emotional," Draco said flatly, and the moment was gone. Gone, Ginny thought, but not forgotten. She knew that she, at least, would always take comfort in the presence of the other three. She had a feeling that they felt the same.
"Indeed," Blaise said, but her voice was soft. "Gin? Can I have the tub?"
"Sure," Ginny said, glaring pointedly at the boys. "Both of you – out!"
)WE(
Draco hesitated outside of the girls' bedroom, though he heard no voices within. Ginny had pushed him out some time ago and closed the door, saying she needed to pull on Millicent's borrowed pajamas. But ten minutes had passed and she still hadn't invited him in.
Well, she wasn't naked, he was sure. So he slowly pushed the door opened.
Ginny shrieked loudly and tried to cover herself.
"What're you doing?" he asked in confusion, as she yanked on a too-large dressing gown.
"What're you doing?" she shot back, knotting the cord around her waist before turning back to glare at him. "I didn't say come in!"
"Well, you might have died, for all I knew," he muttered rather lamely. "How long was I supposed to stand out there? Another five years and I might have starved. Anyway, it's not like you weren't fully clothed when I came in!"
"I'm still trying to figure out how to make Bulstrode's pajamas stay on," she admitted, her tone softening slightly. "She's a bit larger than me."
"A bit," Draco agreed, biting his lip to keep back a smile. After a moment, he ventured, "Aren't there buttons or something?"
"No, just elastic."
Draco suddenly realized that they were talking about the bottoms and felt quite uncomfortable. Not because pajama bottoms were particularly taboo, but because they were Ginny Weasley's pajamas . . .
Hey, what was he doing? This was Ginny Weasley, who had said not to "dare kiss me like that again until I can see you every day." This was the girl who had voluntarily snogged him. She was gagging for it, wasn't she?
With a smile that bordered on predatory, he stepped further into the room and closed the door quietly behind him. Ginny watched him, her eyes suddenly on his. She didn't look wary – she looked conflicted.
Nothing he couldn't clear up.
"What?" she said, as he moved silently toward her.
He didn't answer, but he didn't move quickly. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel unsafe in any way – cornered. And in a room this small, it could very well seem as though he were boxing her in.
Wait – what was this? He was being . . . thoughtful. It was just not on.
Two more strides had him within inches of her.
"Draco?" she said hesitantly, hands dropping away from her waist where they had probably been holding up the pajama bottoms.
"Yeah?" he spoke at last, his voice just above a whisper.
"God, why haven't you snogged me yet, you prat?" she almost groaned, throwing her arms haphazardly around his neck and pulling herself flush against him.
Well! What had held her back before?
"Building up the suspense, you know," he murmured, before pulling her mouth against his. He met with little resistance except the hissing breath of a moan. His hands caught her hips, where he could feel the waistband of the pants slouching, and he felt a shiver pass from his stomach to the tips of his toes. He had kissed plenty of girls, but not one of them did this to him. What this was he hadn't determined, but he liked it! He pulled her tightly against him, noticing peripherally that she was on her tiptoes and that her stomach was pressed against his, hips against his, toes knocking gently against his shins.
"Mmph – Draco?" Ginny pulled back enough to free her lips, which action Draco greatly resented. "What if Bulstrode or Parkinson –"
"They'll wish they'd never been born," Draco growled. Ginny giggled, breath coming out hot and damp and sweet with tea against his face. He cupped her cheeks in his hands and returned his lips to hers, his teeth caressing her lower lip and eliciting another groan from Ginny, who this time did nothing to separate them. Her hands slid down his back and, finding the edge of his shirt, tugged upward.
"You don't waste time," Draco sniggered, pulling his lips from hers and trailing them across her jaw, down her chin, and into the hollow of her throat.
"Shut up, you know we've been ready for this for a month," she gasped, tugging more insistently on his shirt. Draco didn't have to look at her face to know what she meant.
With a wild shove they toppled onto one of the beds, not caring if it was Ginny's. Draco pulled his mouth from Ginny's throat long enough for her to unceremoniously yank his shirt over his head and toss it somewhere across the room. Draco's head immediately lowered, his lips finding her collarbone even as his hands found the bottom set of buttons on Millicent's overlarge nightshirt.
"Ginny, dear, I was wondering if you – oh, good Merlin!"
The light clicked on and with a shout of surprise Draco toppled off the bed, landing hard on his bum, whilst Ginny let out a piercing shriek and buried her head under a pillow.
"I leave you alone for five seconds, Draco Malfoy," Mrs. Weasley said menacingly, advancing into the room and shaking a spatula threateningly.
"She started it!" he howled, pointing at the lump of Millicent's pajamas and pillow that was Ginny.
"Didn't!" Ginny cried in muffled tones.
Mrs. Weasley's expression was very serious, though Draco was surprised and quite relieved to note no anger in it. Her words were simple.
"I understand that you're relieved that Ginny is safe, Draco," she said. "And Ginny, I imagine you're quite happy to see Draco again. But now is hardly the time to allow your feelings to run away with themselves. We're at war."
Draco stared at the short, round woman. Judging by the ruffling of the bedclothes, Ginny was as well.
"My dears, I know what it is like to fancy yourself partial to someone," Mrs. Weasley went on, her voice almost gentle. "But I also know that you are both very young and –" she looked back and forth between them. "Now is not the time."
Draco bowed his head to hide a grimace. The way she was acting, you'd think she thought they were eternally bound or something. It was just a . . . a what, he wondered, toying with a loose thread on a blanket that had broken his fall.
"I've spoken to Harry and Miss Zabini as well," Mrs. Weasley finished softly. "Please, Ginny. Draco. Don't do this now. You'll understand me later, perhaps. Draco, focus on your N.E.W.T.s and training. Ginny, finish school and decide how to spend your time until the war ends."
She left them, turning off the light as she went.
Draco raised his eyes to meet Ginny's. Ginny stared back, her own wide and surprised.
"Well?" Ginny said quietly, eyebrows raised.
Draco felt a pang of – well, something unpleasantly like longing – deep in his chest. It constricted, squeezing bravery out of its way. Mrs. Weasley was right. They were at war. Now was no time for flings or romances or whatever the hell they were getting into.
We don't even know, Draco thought bitterly.
He did know, however, that he couldn't stand the thought of losing Ginny.
And that sort of feeling wouldn't do at all.
Without a word, he got to his feet and made for the door.
"An Auror!" Ginny said abruptly.
"What?" Draco didn't – couldn't – face her.
"That's what I intend to do with myself during the war," Ginny said softy. "I can be brave, you know."
Draco unclenched his fists and left the room without looking back.
That's what I'm afraid of.
)WE(
It was passed two in the morning when Blaise crept into the boys' room. Her excellent night vision made it easy for her to find Harry's bed. Her excellent hearing made it easy to distinguish the even, often noisy breathing of the other boys.
Harry was already sitting up when she reached the bedside. She leaned down and kissed him hungrily, silently, in the dark. He pulled back and got to his feet. Together, they wove their way out of the room, careful not to let the door click shut behind them. They slipped down the hall and into the one empty room in the house where they were sure not to be interrupted.
The lavatory was chilly and deserted when they reached it. Blaise closed and locked the door behind them, and before she had even turned fully back around, Harry was pushing her against the wall, his lips scorching hers and his tongue sliding roughly over her teeth. Having not seen each other in a month, in addition to the tension of not knowing if they'd ever see each other again that had settled over the last week, pent up energy, nerves, and desire made them both desperate for something. Blaise knew that if she hadn't come to him, Harry would have come to her.
Blaise caught her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth harder against hers and feeling a bizarre tingle of déjà vu. It intensified briefly as Harry pulled her with him to the floor, before sinking into a forgotten realm of her mind that was where most thought went when she was with Harry. He pulled her on top of him, allowing her control and the power to guide him.
Somehow, Blaise knew as she slid buttons from buttonholes and pushed his shirt free, they had both known this was coming. It was as though Blaise's coming to 5 Inmind Street at long last had triggered something that was supposed to happen. And without asking, they both knew it was what they wanted. Harry's hands were on her shirt the instant she had finished with his and pulled it over her head in a fluid motion. Blaise stretched out across his chest and lowered her mouth to his again, pushing his head back against the floor and feeling her chest tingle when his hands dropped low on her hips and tightened. Their legs tangled together and Blaise felt the tension in his muscles as if they were her own.
All at once, something awoke in Blaise's frazzled, desire-fogged mind. A quiet, familiar something – almost the same as her earlier déjà vu, yet not quite. She was quite sure she had never slept with Harry on a bathroom floor before . . .
Under her, Harry stilled. His lips still grasped hers, his hands still gripped her sides, but he was moving more slowly. Almost hesitant, she realized suddenly.
Gently she pulled her lips from his and gazed down into his unfocused eyes, which shown clearly in the moonlight streaming through the window.
"You feel it, too?" Harry whispered, his breathing heavy as his hand traveled up her side to stroke her neck.
"Yes." Blaise shut her eyes and rested her forehead against his. "Harry . . ."
"I know," he murmured, his own eyes squeezing shut. "What do we do?"
It wasn't the first time they had had strange feelings like this. Both of them had had moments of – well, it felt like importance. When Blaise approached such a moment, she felt as though she were facing diverging paths that would never again meet. One choice or other would set the direction of her life. She knew she had had these feelings before, and obviously, so had Harry.
"How do we know what's right?" Blaise murmured.
"We don't," Harry returned. "But Dumbledore once told me that I had a choice – always – between what was right and what was easy."
Blaise blinked, her throat tightening as her answer came. Of course her feeling about diverging paths wasn't limited to this moment. She had other choices to make as well – choices which Mrs. Weasley had reminded her of this evening.
"We're at war," she had said. "This is no time for – well, whatever you two are up to."
"She's right," Blaise said dully, her desire draining from her chest and leaving a dull hole in its place. "Mrs. Weasley is right. This is no time for us."
"God, I wish you hadn't said that," Harry said, dropping his hands away from her and letting his head fall back with a gentle thud against the hard floor.
"What do we do, Harry?" she echoed his earlier question, suddenly wishing that he was the omniscient little hero he was made out to be by those unlucky enough to be strangers to him.
He sighed, then looked her square in the eye. She was sure that, despite the darkness and his bad eyesight, he could see her clearly.
"You know, Blaise," he whispered back, so quietly she almost couldn't make out the words. She stared back, her throat tightening again and her eyes suddenly burning. Without a word, she slid off of him and got to her feet. She caught her shirt up and pulled it haphazardly over her head before turning to go.
"Blaise." Harry caught her ankle. She looked down at him, willing her tears to stay in check. "Not like this, Blaise."
"Like what, then?" she retorted, rubbing at her eyes.
He got to his feet, reaching out a hand as if to caress her cheek and then sighing and dropping it. "I hope you know that I want – I want whatever we're doing – very much. It's just –"
"Mrs. Weasley's right," Blaise finished, feeling both miserable and resigned. How had she got from utterly turned on to deflated in the span of ten minutes? It didn't seem possible and just wasn't fair.
"I mean, I – we've got enough to deal with now without making things harder for ourselves," Harry went on forcefully, clearly trying to convince himself and her at the same time. "I mean, I could be killed and then I imagine you would be kind of unhappy – I hope you would. I mean, I don't want you to be unhappy, but if anything happened to me, if you weren't unhappy –"
"Oh, Harry, please shut up," Blaise breathed, throwing her arms around him and clinging on tightly for a moment. He obligingly did stop talking and hugged her fiercely to him for a moment before pulling resolutely back. "Friends?" he said reluctantly.
Blaise stared at him, her heart aching with grief and a strange sense of rightness. However much she hated it now, they were doing what was right, rather than what was easy.
"Friends," she agreed, clasping his hand in hers.
)WE(
TBC