Of all people surprised by what had happened, Voldemort was not one of them. He had witnessed such a sacrifice before and so it was not all that surprising to see. But, what did surprise him was the reaction of the young Weasley woman. She did not scream nor did she even cry when she rolled her father's body over to face her. She reacted as if it had merely been a stranger who saved her, rising up with her wand clutched tightly in her hand, ready to resume the battle. But what she did not speak with words she spoke with her eyes. And though part of him wanted to stick around and see what kind of damage this girl now so full of rage could do, he knew there was nothing left for him there. This battle was over.
He was gone with a pop and one by one his Death Eaters followed until it was only Greyback and Malfoy remaining. Ginny was on her feet, knees wobbling as she fought to stand upright, a cold dread settled in the pit of her stomach. Greyback was staring back at her, his dark eyes full of something like hunger, his own wand still poised and ready to fight. Behind him, Lucius Malfoy loomed, his eyes seeking out his son's, who stood to the side of Ginny now, lookng torn as to what to do. Remus and the others had gathered behind her as well, forming a tight row of bodies, all with their wands out and their eyes full of hate. Like Voldemort, Greyback could see when a battle was over, and this one certainly was. "I'll be back for you, girly," he snickered at Ginny, offering her a smile that sent chills down her spine. And then he was gone too. Lucius made a noise, as if torn between speaking and staying silent, but then he was gone as well.
Ginny felt something worse than the physical pain twisting her heart as she looked down at her feet, to where her father lay motionless on the ground. She staggered then, all of her strength gone, falling right into Draco's arms. He had seen her failing moments before anyone else had, and thus reacted quicker than anyone else could. He caught her as she went down, cradling her against him as he gently lowered her to the ground. The wail that escaped her was unlike anything he'd ever heard in all of his life- a sound of someone broken beyond repair. The others were around them then, sinking down and forming a protective shield from the eyes of the various witches and wizards that had begun to flock the streets again. Remus was the one to reach out and gently close Arthur's eyes, before he gripped Bill by the arm and whispered instructions into the oldest Weasley son's ear. Bill nodded, wiping the tears from his eyes before he knelt before his sister, still in Draco's arms. "We need to go home, Ginny." Bill said softly to her, reaching out a hand to gingerly touch her battered cheek. His little sister gave a silent nod and with a little help from Draco, was on her feet again. "Let's go," Bill slipped his arm around her thin frame and gestured for all of them to follow. There was much to do, now.
But first, he had to tell his mother.
[ x x x ]
She had not spoken in days.
She'd locked the door to her bedroom and did not come out except to use the bathroom, but even then she made no attempt at any sort of human contact. Molly Weasley, usually so attuned to her children's moods, had yet to notice that her youngest child had not left her room in three days. But who could blame her? Like her daughter, she seemed to have retreated into herself, torn between long bouts of silence or endless amounts of sobbing. Nothing could cheer her from the sorrow of losing her husband. This war had already taken so much from her, why Arthur too?
It was on the fourth day that the Golden Trio arrived at the Burrow, having overheard in a Wizarding bar that Arthur Weasley had died. They had thought it to be nothing but an awful rumor, but, they'd gone home just in case. None of them had been prepared for the truth when they had arrived that day, hearing from Remus that it was true.
Ginny had heard them arrive, had heard the shocked shout from Ron, but still she'd yet to leave her room. She had heard the soft knock on her bedroom door, a knock from Hermione, but had ignored her and not bothered to unlock the door When Harry had spoken softly through the crack in the door, she had imagined him with his cheek pressed against the wood. But even him she ignored.
She lay in silence, facing the wall in her bed, trying to piece together the shards of her broken heart. Why... She had asked herself such a question over and over again, trying to understand why her father had done what he did. Why die for her like that? Why leave them all behind so easily? Tears welled up in her eyes and she forced them closed, hands curling into fists beneath the blankets; nothing about this felt right. Her father... How would she go on without him?
It was late into the fourth night when she heard the soft knock.
Rolling onto her other side, she faced the door, listening closely to the voice that called to her from the hallway. "Ginny... It's me..." Draco's voice was full of concern, so much so it took it an octive lower than usual. She sat up in bed, red hair shifting over her shoulders as she swung herself off the bed. Without a word, she padded across the room and unlocked the door. As Draco opened it she was already climbing back onto her bed, drawing the blankets toward her. "Hey..." He said softly as he closed the door behind him and approached her bed, noting the other empty bed. Hermione had said she was going to try to get in here, but had apparently failed as much as the boys had. Draco hadn't been sure she'd listen to him either, but he had to give it a chance.
When she did not say anything, Draco sat down on the edge of her bed, reaching out a hand to trace the curve of her cheek. With his other hand, he tapped the lamp on the bedside table, bringing it to life and flooding the room with light. Ginny squinted against it, but still did not speak as Draco's fingers brushed against a bruise. "You should let someone look at you," he murmured, finding he could hardly look her in the eyes, for her grief took his breath away. She looked as if she'd not slept in days- her big, beautiful eyes were swollen and raw. Her hair was a mess, her clothes the same ones she'd worn the day of the battle. Her lovely features were bruised and broken, results of her torture session that night. She needed medical attention, though she seemed not to care.
"I'm fine," she hissed, drawing back and turning away, her arms folding over her chest. "I'm fine," she repeated, softer than before, and Draco could see the tears clinging to her lashes. He felt his own heart breaking for the girl before him, suffering a loss so much greater than any loss ever before. He never could imagine the pain she was in- pain made worse by what he knew was guilt. Draco said nothing as he reached for her then, drawing her to his chest and holding on as gently as he could. She began to cry, gut-wrenching sobs that wracked her whole frame. He hushed her softly, his breath warm against the shell of her ear with every word he whispered. He held her until the moon had risen high into the sky, its white light seeping in through her slightly parted curtains. He held her until her sobs faded into hiccups and her hiccups into soft, slow breathing.
He sat up like that with her for an hour before the door opened.
Immediately he froze- panic rising up within him at being discovered in such a way with her. They'd never disclosed anything to anyone about them and to be frank, they'd not discussed such a thing either. But, either way he didn't want one of her brothers to come in and take this the wrong way entirely. However, it was not any of her brothers, nor any of her family at all... It was Hermione. If the brunette was surprised by what she found, her eyes did not betray it. In fact, they softened a bit as she caught sight of them, and a small smile twitched on her lips. And then she was gone, knowing better than to risk disturbing the sleeping girl, and returned upstairs to Ron's room, where he and Harry were waiting for her to report back. Hermione would tell them exactly what she saw: Ginny was finally asleep. That was all that was really important, after all.
[ x x x ]
When she woke, it was early morning. Much earlier than even she would usually rise, so early that the moon still yet hung over the horizon. Rolling onto her other side, she came face-to-face with Draco, who she realized was fast asleep in her bed. The memory of the night before returned- how she'd finally let someone into her room and that someone had been him. She could still yet recall the way it had felt to have his arms wrap completely around her, as if he meant to shield her from all the pain she felt. Reaching out, she tenderly brushed a lock of hair off his forehead, only to find his eyes had opened. "Hi..." She whispered, drawing her hand back as he offered her a sleepy sort of smile.
"Hi," he replied, reaching out himself to touch the bruise on her cheek, one which looked darker than ever before. "You should be sleeping." He admonished softly, both surprised and heartened when she gave a little laugh. "I'll go so you can get some real sleep..." Draco made to rise, but her hand caught him before he could go. Her dark brown eyes were on his, her features sharpened by her grief, giving her a look different from the one he'd grown used to seeing.
"Don't go."
That was all she had to say, in all honesty. Draco returned to her side, drawing her to his chest as he lay back down beside her. She buried her face into the crook of his shoulder and neck, her arms tucked neatly between them, his heart beating into her palm. "I'll never leave you," he murmured into her hair, grasping at her a bit more gently as he felt her shifting against him. She drew her head back, her lips hovering over his, her brown eyes finding his; and then she was kissing him, kissing him like she had never kissed him before. Draco yielded to her, but only for a moment, knowing now was not the time nor the place.
Perhaps she could read his mind or perhaps she merely felt the same way, but when she broke away, she gave a small nod, before returning to her earlier position. He felt her body relax as she pressed herself against him, small and warm, and he could not help but to be aware of her every curve. They lay in silence a while until her breathing slowed and he knew she'd fallen back asleep- it was only then that he closed his own eyes and allowed himself to drift back off.
[ x x x ]
Ginny woke the morning of her father's funeral long before any one else in the house did.
Rising from her bed, she came to stand in front of the mirror that hung on her wall, staring back at her own reflection. The bruises and cuts upon her face were healed- thanks to Hermione of course- and though she looked tired, she supposed she looked the same as she always did. Grief had not changed her much, though on the inside she felt like someone else entirely.
Shrugging out of her clothes, she pulled the black dress off it's peg on the wall, holding it up against herself. She wasn't entirely sure where it had come from, she could only assume Hermione had acquired it somehow, and left it there for her the night before. A small smile flickered across her lips as she thought of her good friend and she resolved to let the brunette share her room once again. She had been, in all honesty, been selfish these last few nights- too lost in her own grief and guilt to acknowledge what everyone else might have been feeling.
But most of all, she had been hiding to avoid her mother.
How could she face her mother when she was the reason her father was dead? How could her mother wish to look upon her, when she had been the cause of her husband and true love's untimely demise? Ginny supposed that was why her mother had yet to try and come to her, that was why even days later she had yet to even hear her mother's voice.
Now fully dressed, Ginny escaped the confines of her bedroom, taking to the stairs for the first time since the night of the battle. The kitchen was quiet and empty, the early morning light just beginning to peer in through the curtains as Ginny descended the stairs. She immediately went to work making tea and then dropped into a chair at the kitchen table. It wasn't very long after she'd sat down that she heard it, the familiar creak of the stairs that told her someone was descending them- she turned, coming face-to-face with her mother, who clutched her bathrobe around her, looking as tired as Ginny felt. "Mum..." Ginny murmured, jumping to her feet at her arrival, finding she felt strange beneath her mother's brown eyed gaze.
Molly had not expected anyone else to be awake so early. There was still hours to go until Arthur's service and she had thought she might spend at least one quiet hour alone with her tea before the house began to wake. But, to her surprise, someone else had the very same idea. Ginny's eyes widened as they met hers and Molly opened her mouth to speak, but found she could not speak. She had never seen Ginny look the way she did right then, so lost and frightened, so full of anguish it threatened to spill over. She realized then that it had been days since she'd last seen Ginny and it frightened her that she'd not once thought of her. Molly felt something twist inside of her heart and knew she had failed her daughter these last few days. Of all of them suffering, she was the one suffering the most; Molly had, in her own grief, forgotten about her child's. "Oh, Ginny..." Molly said softly before she opened her arms, wrapping them around her daughter. "It's all going to be okay." Molly stroked her long hair, relishing the feel of it against the palm of her hands. It could have been her, Molly reminded herself, it could have been Ginny that had been lost to her... And that, well that was incomprehensible. Arthur had died to protect their child, their only daughter, and for that she would always be grateful.
Losing Arthur was painful, but losing one of her children would have destroyed her.
"Let's have some tea," Molly said when she stood back, holding Ginny at arm's length, her smile watery. As if this one thing, making tea, would make everything better. Ginny nodded, returning to her spot at the table, handing her mother her own mug that had long since turned cold. And that morning, it was not crying nor silence that three of the Weasley boys walked into, but laughter. Laughter as mother and daughter recounted endless memories of the husband and father they had so dearly loved. Fred, George, and Ron joined into the conversation, adding more memories, more laughter to the table, and soon everyone staying over at the Burrow was crammed into the kitchen, talking about the man Arthur Weasley had been.
[ x x x ]
When the service was over, Draco was the first to notice that Ginny had vanished again.
And so, knowing he himself wouldn't be missed, he climbed the stairs towards her room, softly knocking on the door. When his only response was silence, he hesistated to open the door, wondering if she only needed a bit more privacy after the long day of mourning. "She's not in there," came a voice from the flight of stairs above him, and Draco turned only to see Hermione walking towards him. Like everyone else had, she'd changed from her dressy clothes into jeans and a shirt he was certain he'd seen Ginny wear once or twice. Draco let go of the doorknob, turning away from the door and from Hermione, recalling how she had walked in upon them only the night before. "I won't tell anyone, you know," Hermione said quietly as she came to stand beside him. When Draco looked up in surprise at her, she was smiling, her hazel eyes brightening. "Ginny's my best friend and if... If you make her happy, I'd never ruin that. Besides, you're one of us now."
Draco felt something warm deep inside of him at those words- one of us now. Just as easily as Ginny had said it would happen, it was, though he'd never dared to believe it. He had always thought himself to be an outsider, no matter the side he lived on. An outsider with his own family because he didn't believe Voldemort's ideals as deeply as they did. But an outsider with these people because he'd lived on the other side and played the part for so many years. But, yet, here he was. "Do you know where she went?" He asked and Hermione could see the genuine concern written on his features. If Hermione didn't know any better, she would say he was in love.
"Check the shed out back," Hermione said with a nod, knowing Ginny well enough to believe she'd gone out there.
He nodded and turned to go, but paused a moment to turn back to her, his stormy eyes finding hers. In all their years of knowing one another, Draco knew this was the first conversation they'd ever truly had. Now that he looked more closely at her, the teeth he and his friends had always mocked her over were in truth straight and small. Her smile was nice. "Thank you, Hermione," he said, calling her for the first time by her given name, bringing another smile to her face.
"Just take care of her." To this Draco knew he could say yes, knew he could and would do without any problem at all. Descending the stairs with Hermione following behind him, he slipped by those in the kitchen, including Lupin and Bill, both of whom were deep in discussion and didn't even notice him walking by.
Once outside, he felt the autumn chill, the promise of another winter soon to come. His eyes fell upon the shed Hermione had mentioned, and sure enough he could see that the door was slightly ajar. Draco strode across the grass and pulled the door open, the dying evening sunlight illuminating it within. There she stood- just like Hermione had said- her back to him, her long hair a waterfall down her back. She was holding something in her hands, staring down at it as if it were a fistfull of Galleons, as if it were the most precious of jewels. "Ginny..." He called out softly to her, catching her attention as he closed the door behind them, encasing them in near darkness. "Lumos," he muttered and the tip of his wand flared to life. He set it on the center bench, which he noticed was covered with strange items, one of which Ginny held in her hands. "Gin, are you alright?"
No, she wasn't, but she would be.
Ginny had decided that hours ago, while sitting there in the service for her father... She had decided she knew how to make things right. Turning to face him, Draco could see the remnants of tears on her cheeks, but her eyes were clear and bright in her face. "Yeah," she said softly, chuckling softly at the absurdity of the question. How many times a day would she be asked such a thing? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? Did people not realize such a question did not make things all better? That her pain went much deeper than anything ever had in all of her life? No matter. She would make it right in the end.
"What is this stuff?" Draco asked her, turning his attention to the hundreds of items strewn about the shed. He came to realize this must have been the Muggle items her father had been so oddly interested in. It had always been a topic of mockery his own father had used when talking of the Weasley clan- a pureblood wizard so enamored by Muggles. A blood traitor, the whole lot of them Lucius had used to say. A man with talent that could have gone far in the Minsitry, but instead chose a job that left his family in overwhelming poverty. "Your dad's?"
She tilted her head, watching as Draco touched various items- the plugs, the batteries, the ten different alarm clocks. Her father had been odd, everyone knew that, but Ginny felt like her understanding of the world was so much better than most witches her age. Her father had drilled it into their brains from a young age that no one was better than anyone else. That at the end of the day, they were all equals. And of all his children, it had been Ginny who had spent the most time out there in this shed with him. It was Ginny who learned Muggle first aide and how to drive the old Ford Anglia one summer. It was Ginny who he had brought on day trips to the Muggle side of Diagon Alley, where they would get ice cream and window shop the alley. "Yeah, my dad's..." Ginny murmured, her hands trailing across every surface of the work bench, recalling every one of the items stories- a plug from the Dursley's home, a battery from an old Muggle flashlight, the actual Muggle flashlight... Everyone else looked in this shed and saw trash, but none of them had could see what her dad had saw in Muggle things. "
Draco stood in silence as she turned back around to face him, her brown eyes dark but her mouth was curving with a smile. He felt his heart leap as it always did when she smiled upon him and he reached for her then, his fingers locking in place around the back of her neck. Looking into her eyes, it was as if he could read her every thought, and she his. Draco leaned over her, brushing his lips across hers, feeling her knees weaken as she gripped the front of his t-shirt. "Teach me about them." He whispered as he broke the kiss, his lips instead on her ear, teeth nibbling the soft skin of her earlobe. "Teach me about everything your dad knew." Ginny gave a little chuckle and her lips were finding his, her answer there behind the kiss, her hands sliding up into his hair.
When she drew back, she handed him the nearest alarm clock and plunged into its every detail, every detail her father had ever taught her about that stupid, wonderful alarm clock.