Disclaimer: Harry Potter universe, characters, etc, belongs to JK Rowling, not me.

A/N: Okay, so this time it's about a month (I think) from my last update. I'd say that's an improvement. I did try you know. I've been studying like mad and am in the middle of exams now, so considering everything, I think I got this one up in a decent amount of time. I'm going home for the holidays next Wednesday, and I am so excited because there is like a foot and a half of snow back home:)

Anyway, I hope you like the chapter. It feels kind of dry to me… but that may be because it's practically one big conversation. Tell me what you think, and I'll write the next chapter to make up for it. Please, pretty please review! Reviews inspire me to write, so please do. Constructive criticism's always welcome too.

Keep the Faith

Chapter Twelve

Draco woke up late the next morning with a pounding headache. He moaned, and sat up, clutching his head, only to cringe at the pain in his ribs and the wave of nausea that flooded him.

He spent at least half an hour lying over the toilet.

When he felt the nausea pass, he stood up and looked at his reflection in the mirror. Draco stared at the bruises, the cuts, and the general mess of his appearance, and he realised that he couldn't remember how he'd ended up with the injuries.

Frustrated, Draco searched his memory, squinting his eyes as though it would be of help. What the hell happened?

He could remember drinking the bottle of firewhiskey, and everything that happened before it; he remembered the horrible reasons that he did it, and he remembered walking into that muggle bar. Is that where he got this?

Draco touched his eye gently, and cringed.

And he remembered Ginny – he had a blurry recollection of her in some dark street, and back at the house, but he couldn't remember anything more than that.

But she couldn't have been there, Draco told himself. Had that just been a dream?

He ran a hand through his hair, and splashed some water on his face, and grabbed for the toothbrush.

After brushing his teeth, Draco made his way down to the kitchen carefully, wondering what he could do to get rid of the damn hangover.

Draco went to the fridge and poured himself a glass of water, drinking it down to the last drop. It didn't help. He put down the glass, and leaned against the counter, defeated.

His thoughts turned to his father, and the grief overcame him for the first time.

Up to now, Draco hadn't really been lamenting over his father's death, he'd really just been upset over his own life being condemned by his father's actions. Draco knew he wasn't as affected as he should be. And his thought process had only been selfish. That was why he drank so much – he just wanted to feel something. Anything.

But now that he thought about it directly, he felt shaken. His own blood, his father was dead; murdered.

And he would never see him again.

Draco suddenly felt sick again, and he took in a deep, shaky breath.

Thud!

Draco jumped up at the sound, and seconds later, Ginny walked into the room.

She was wearing a pair of green pyjama bottoms and a white t-shirt, and her hair tumbled down her back. Her eyes looked tired, though, and Draco wondered again what happened last night. And as he was thinking it, the image of Ginny's heated face invaded his mind.


Your father is responsible for almost causing my death … wretched diary … possessed throughout the year… would come back to myself with chicken blood all over my hands and clothes …

He could hear the words as though from a dream. Just sections, but it stimulated his memory – the chamber of secrets, his father… and Ginny.

Ginny looked at Draco strangely, but she said nothing, and rubbed her shoulder subconsciously.


You're hurting me.

Draco closed his eyes and the fragments of memories came back to him. He got a flash of Ginny's face glaring up at him, hurt and angry. Oh god, what the hell did I do?

Draco wanted to ask her exactly that, but the feeling of sickness he got from the knowledge that he hurt her was stopping him. It was one thing when before he used to try and scare her with force, as he never really hurt her, but when he was drunk – that was a different story. He knew his own strength, and if he lost control, he could do damage to someone like her.

Ginny got a glass of orange juice from the fridge, and sat down with it at the table. She turned her chair to face Draco.

Draco watched her silently, but he was sure that his emotions were on display – the shame, the regret, the sadness and self-hatred that he was feeling presently. Ginny's pitiful look and the small tilt of her head told him he was right. Funny thing was, he didn't care. Draco looked away.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked suddenly.

Draco looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. "Just perfect," he replied sarcastically. My father is dead, I'm as good as dead, I have a major hangover, I can't remember what the hell I even did, and I probably hurt youhe thought.

"Okay, that was a dumb thing to ask," Ginny admitted, looking worried. "Look, Draco, I'm sorry again for what I said to you last night."

Draco stared at her in confusion.He opened his mouth to ask her what she meant, but the sincerity and beauty of Ginny's bright eyes stopped him in his tracks.

His head was muddled, and he could hardly think straight. What was going on? Shouldn't he be the one apologizing? Draco opened his mouth again to speak after a while, but Ginny spoke first, changing the topic.

"Draco, have you thought about what you're going to do?"

Draco looked at her, still thinking belatedly so it took him a moment to pay attention.

"What?" he asked confused.

"Have you gone through your options? Of where you can go, or what you can do," she added.

The reality hit him like a brick, as his thoughts turned to his current situation. His body felt cold, and he didn't want to think about it.

"What options, Weasley?" Draco looked away from her. "I have none."

Ginny stood up and walked over to him.

"That's not true," she argued. "I know that you're distressed, but you really have to decide on something, and soon. Eventually, since the death eaters know where you are, they will figure out how to get in, and get past the enchantments that you put on the house. I'm not unintelligent, you know. I know how that all works. You're not safe here forever, and the sooner we get you out of here, the better. Do you have any ideas?"

"No," Draco admitted reluctantly. That was his problem.

"Well, what about leaving the country with your mum? Or even on your own if it comes to it?" Ginny suggested hesitantly.

"I can't," he told her after a minute.

Ginny looked up at him with something strangely resembling hope. "Why not?"

Draco sighed. He didn't really want to talk about this.

"Because," he started, "I was counting on father. I don't bloody know anything about muggles. I can't stand them, you know that. We would have been together as a family at least."

Draco paused, feeling the grief of the situation threaten to overwhelm him. He looked down and continued, "Mother would never go along with it now. She would have if Lucius wanted to convince her, but she feels as though she's obliged to keep the house. She'll be in hell if it was just us. And so would I."

"You're mum loves you, Draco. She would do whatever was best for you, any parent would."

He shook his head. "You really live in an isolated paradise, don't you?"

Ginny looked down.

Draco scoffed and turned away.

They both stood there, feeling awkward with the tense atmosphere.

After what seemed like minutes, Ginny whispered, "Come home with me."

Draco snapped his grey eyes to hers, too speechless to respond. He opened his mouth to talk, and closed it again, looking into her eyes, trying to decipher if she was serious.

"Did I…? Did you just suggest…?" he stammered.

"Come home with me," Ginny repeated, but a little more enthusiastically this time, intending it to sound more inviting than she knew he would think.

Ginny watched Draco's blank look, as he processed what exactly she had just said.

"Come… home with you?" Draco repeated, a look of horror crossing his features. "You mean, suffer the wrath of your family? Your father who hates me and six brothers that probably want to hex me into oblivion?"

"Well, yes," Ginny started, clearly amused. She shushed him as he opened his mouth to speak. "But my dad trusts me, and there would only be a couple of my brothers around at a time. Besides, members of the order are around often. We're where the headquarters are. You'll be safe."

"People like who?" Draco asked sceptically.

"Well, Lupin and Tonks, Moody, McGonagall, Kinglsey…"

"You mean trained Aurors, and fully trained witches and wizards that will also kill me? How is that safer than your family? I wouldn't even have my wand for protection." Draco asked her incredulously. "I'm not a masochist, Ginny, there's no way."

"Could kill you," she corrected, and quickly added, "But they won't."

"I used to torment Lupin that year in school..."

"Remus is practically the most sensible, laid-back wizard I know. He's not going to have a grudge against you," Ginny countered.

"Well, McGonagall's always hated me…"

"Do you honestly think she would hurt you? She may be a strict teacher, but really…" Draco ignored her.

"And Mad-Eye Moody is bloody mad – he'd probably curse me if I so much as look him."

"Okay, well, that one may actually be true," Ginny admitted, shrugging her shoulder.

"See? And Andromeda's family's been ostracized by us since before I was born. You can't tell me she won't hold a grudge. And she's an Auror too, who knows what she would do to me?"

Ginny laughed at the exasperated expression on Draco's face. "Actually, I think you'd get along quite well. She's a lot of fun."

At Draco blatant disbelief, Ginny relented and tried to reason with him. "Well, for most of them, you might have to actually make an effort to get them to like you, but they won't hurt you unless you purposely anger them."

Draco stared at her, not even sure how to respond to that. Did she really want him to?

"You're talking about going against my own nature and collaborating with the enemy," he blurted out. "Living with the people that I've been brought up to hate!"

"I thought Voldemort was your enemy now," Ginny countered. "And we're both against him, so you're on our side, whether you like it or not. Besides," Ginny took a stop closer to Draco. "You don't hate me, do you?"

Draco's eye bore into hers, and Ginny gazed back, the question in her eyes. He reached a hand up to her hair, letting the red tresses slip between his fingers. "Of course I don't hate you. Don't ever think that, okay?"

Ginny smiled lightly, and continued, "See? It's not so bad. If there's any place safer for you than here, it's my house. It's protected by endless spells. I know that you have a lot of pride and you'll probably hate being helped by us… but seriously, Draco, your other option, unless I'm missing something, is death! And it's not even as though you'll have to help the order or anything – that's up to you. You can just stay there and be safe. The order can probably help with your mum, too."

Draco remembered Arthur Weasley's apparent concern for his mother. Would they really help him of all people? It seemed crazy, but deep down he wondered if it were true.

"Ginny," Draco pushed away from the counter, and looked at her properly. "You're the kind of person that everybody cares for, everyone wants to protect. They all know that I kidnapped you. They know what I've done. Nobody will want to help me."

She met his eyes, and shook her head. "You don't know that. Besides, my mum would protect you. She's like that – wants to be a mum to everybody."

At Draco's look of uncertain horror, Ginny chuckled, and the sight of it brought a slight curve of a smile from his own lips. "And I wouldn't let them do anything to you," she added, looking up at him with twinkling eyes.

Draco had the sudden urge to kiss her, but he resisted, and the guilt returned. He still didn't even know what happened between them the night before.

"Look," he told her quietly, looking down into her eyes, wanting to explain, but not knowing how. "I can't."

"Just think about it, okay?"

Draco didn't answer, and stood silent. After what seemed like a long time, he looked at her and asked, "What exactly were you apologising for earlier?"

Ginny took a step back, and raised an eyebrow.

"You don't remember?" she asked, bemused.

Draco shook his head, somewhat embarassed.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Ginny watched him strangely.

Draco frowned and stuck his hands in his pockets. "Parts of it."

"Okay," Ginny breathed, before gathering her thoughts with a frown. "Well, just to catch you up," she began, "you got really drunk, decided to go start a fight in a muggle bar, which is where you got these," Ginny touched his bruised cheekbone and he winced, glaring at her.

"Did you have to do that?"

Ginny wrinkled her nose at him playfully. "No, but it wasn't that hard."

"Just go on," Draco relented, watching her, trying to gauge her reactions. Was she angry at him?

Ginny continued, "I saw you on the television, and went to go find you, but then a death eater came, and you almost got us both killed."

"Oh, right," Draco frowned at her words. He still couldn't remember. "Sorry," he offered. It was strange, because he couldn't even picture what he was sorry for; he just knew that he was sorry.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "And then we got back, and I sort of blew up at you for acting so recklessly, and for, you know, what happened before. That's what I was apologising for. I felt bad for making you so upset when you were already so upset by your father." Ginny crossed her arms. "But I suppose that was pointless because you don't even remember," she added bitterly to herself.

Draco frowned at her tone, and rubbed the back of his neck, saying. "Ginny, I'm sorry for whatever I did to you last night. I wasn't in my right mind."

Ginny sighed, and shook her head. "I know." She paused and then looked back at him. "But I still think we need to talk about what happened between us."

Draco grimaced. Nothing good could come of this, he knew. He wondered what she would say. Was she going to hate him? Was there even a chance that she still wanted him? He had been so hideously horrible to her last night.

"What about it?"

"Do you always bed women that fast?"

Draco blinked. Merlin, that was blunt. "No," he responded, quite unsure what was happening.

"Then why me?" Ginny looked nervous, but Draco could see the distrust beneath. He lowered his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes.

"It seemed like the thing to do," he answered truthfully.

"That's it?" Ginny asked, the betrayal showing on her face.

Draco fisted a hand in his blonde hair. Why did he feel like he was digging himself into a hole? He turned on her, stepping toward her as he talked.

"Yes! It was an impulsive, in the moment decision. And I'm not the only one to blame. You sure weren't stopping me."

Draco was close enough that she could touch him again. Ginny looked down, a blush creeping up her neck. "It was a mistake."

Draco had expected this, he realised. After the way he'd acted toward her, she was finally coming to her senses. And he didn't want her to.

"Was it?" he implored quietly, wondering why it hurt when she said it.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I was emotional, and upset."

Something occurred to him. "Are you accusing me of taking advantage of you?" He asked, surprised.

"Weren't you?"

"No! Well, not intentionally." Draco searched Ginny's eyes. "I was just as out of my mind as you were. You can't say that it wasn't completely consensual. I gave you a choice, do you remember? It would have killed me to stop, but I would have stopped for you."

"Okay, yes." Ginny looked down. Her face was flushed, as she fumbled with her words. "You're right, but –"

Draco put his hands on her shoulders, making sure she looked at him. "But what, Ginny?" he asked her quietly.

"I'm just saying that it was a mistake."

He dropped his hands.

Draco began to feel annoyed. His cheeks went pink with chagrin. "That's the second time you've said that."

"Yes, but it doesn't mean" –

"Look," he began angrily, "What do you want from me? An apology?"

"No," she muttered.

"Okay, so you're telling me that you're never going to let it happen again?" He said testily, his posture and his tone getting more and more tense.

"No! That's not what I'm saying." Ginny looked down, and hugged her arms around herself.

Draco raised an eyebrow in scepticism, "Weasley, you're not making any sense. What is it you want? Is it because you hate me again?" He hoped that wasn't it.

"No! I don't know what I want! It was irrational and stupid of us to… I mean, there was a good chance that we never would have seen each other again!"

"Maybe it was irrational and a stupid thing to do," Draco stared her down as he spoke heatedly, "but it happened! You can't just ignore it. Or is that what you want? To forget it?" He felt his cheeks heat up.

"No. Yes, maybe." Ginny looked at him worriedly, biting her lip, as she saw that she must have hurt his pride. He looked away.

"Fine. Consider it forgotten." His icy tone cut her, and her voice cracked as she went on.

"Draco, I just – I don't want you to think I'm easy!" She cried, wanting, needing him to listen. "It was…amazing, but" –

"If it was so amazing, why do you want to forget it?" Draco's voice drifted down to her. Ginny looked up at him. Was it her imagination, or was there a tone of hurt behind his words?

Ginny seemed at a loss for words and she opened her mouth to speak, and closed it again.

Draco continued, "Fine, I get it. I know I did everything wrong. I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have done whatever the hell I did to you last night. I am sorry. If that's why you're upset with me, then fine, I get it. I deserve it."

Draco closed his eyes, and turned away from her.

"Not that this conversation hasn't been fun, or great for my ego, but I am bloody hungover and I don't think I can take any more yelling right now," he told quietly, giving her one more look before he walked past her, leaving the room.

Ginny watched him leave, feeling utterly horrible.

"That's not what I meant," she said to herself, watching the spot where he'd left.