Author's Notes: I realize before I said that this fic would be significantly shorter than its predeccesor, The Enemy of Souls. That's not entirely true, actually. I didn't take into account the fact that the chapters I write now are much longer than most of the chapers in TEoS. TEoS is 19 chapters, and the first ten or so are about half the size of the chapters I write now. So, in terms of word count, this fic will still be shorter than TEoS likely, but not incredibly shorter. Just much shorter chapter-wise.

Thanks to everyone who helped by giving me suggestions and input for Chapter 3! I'll talk more about that at my fic journal once this chapter and Chapter 4 are up, but really, everyone who gave input helped by kind of letting me know where they perceive D&G are right now and where they should be.

Chapter Three

For a moment, Draco stared at the Patronus, and the Patronus seemed to stare at him. Everything was quiet and still in the dark alley. Then the Patronus shimmered and evaporated, leaving nothing of itself behind.

Nervously, Draco cast a glance up the alley. Death Eaters? At his flat? But how, and why? True, their flat was not particularly guarded against Death Eaters, but none of them had come after him since the events at the Riddle House; after that incident, they had all either gone to Azkaban or fled the country. What were they doing at his flat? That was only two blocks from here…

And who…? He had no idea who cast an otter Patronus…but that voice, the voice it had spoken with…

Suddenly, a not-so-distant crash sounded out, breaking the stillness, followed by a shout. Taking out his wand, Draco stared at the end of the alley, the direction in which the Patronus had come from. After a moment's hesitation, he inched forward carefully down the alley. He had just reached the end, and just bent to peer around the corner, when another clattering, like that of a metal rubbish bin knocked over, sounded out. Draco hadn't even fully looked around when a flash of red light lit the air, and someone screamed.

Realizing all at once that this commotion was coming towards him, Draco swallowed a yelp and turned and ran, back the way he had come. He ducked quickly behind a large pile of boxes and waited, struggling to breathe quietly. A moment later, another cry sounded out, though this time, Draco heard its words, quite clearly—

"Impendimenta!"

—and then the sound of rapid footsteps, someone running, came down the alley, heading his way. Draco swallowed, clutching his wand tightly. A few seconds later, a small-ish figure with a large head of hair ran past him. Draco waited, and then, sure enough, another set of running footsteps came to his ears, heavier and a bit slower, also heading down this way. Draco listened intently, gauging the distance. Three—two—one—

The pursuer took a running step just past Draco's hiding place, and Draco stuck his wand out and yelled, "Stupefy!"

The man fell to the ground, face-first, with a thud. Up ahead, the person he'd been chasing came to a halt, just short of rounding the corner ahead, and turned back. Throwing a glance over his shoulder to make sure no one else was coming, Draco got to his feet warily, feeling out of breath.

The person—the woman—he'd just saved stared at him. "Malfoy?"

Draco sighed. He'd been hoping he was wrong, hoping the voice he'd heard from that otter hadn't been who he thought it was. Because, for all that he was helping her, she really was not one of his favorite people. "Hullo, Granger," he drawled. "I got your message."

Hermione Granger stepped forward, coming back into the alley. Her bushy hair was disheveled, well, more disheveled than usual anyway, and one of her sleeves had slipped off her shoulder, as though someone had grabbed at her and tugged. She wasn't wearing a coat or even a sweater, and her cheeks were flushed with the cold. "Then you know we need to get away from here," she said breathlessly. "That one—" With her wand, she pointed at the man Draco had Stunned, still unconscious on the street between them, "—came after chasing me, but there were three more, either still at your flat or coming after me, so—"

"Granger—" Draco huffed an impatient sigh, wondering where he should start. "What're Death Eaters doing at my flat? What were you doing at my flat? What are you even doing here, in Manchester?"

"I was looking for you, of course," Granger said, just as impatient. "I was hoping—but never mind that now, we have to get away from here, isn't there someplace—safe—we can go?"

Draco scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Well, we can go to Grimmauld Place—"

"How do you know about Grimmauld Place?" she demanded, interrupting him.

"Oh, didn't I tell you?" Draco rolled his eyes. "In addition to shacking up with Ginny, I've also been inducted into the bloody Order. Now, I thought you said we need to go and—"

"Wait." Granger held up a hand to stop him, shaking her head. "You're in the—" She stopped herself. "Whatever. We don't have time for this. But Grimmauld Place, are Tracey Davis and Adrian Pucey still living there? And there might be other Order members there—"

"Yes, so what?" Draco said irritably.

"Malfoy, no one else can know that I'm here! We can't go to Grimmauld Place if they'll see me, that's not safe enough!"

"What does it matter if they know you're here?" Draco groused.

"Malfoy, we don't have time—"

"Fine." Draco shut his eyes, taking a deep breath in the hopes of calming himself. It didn't really work. "Fine. I—there's someplace else. Someplace else safe we can go," he grumbled. Then his eyes flew open. "But, Ginny, we have to see to her first, and Will—"

"They weren't at the flat," Granger said, tossing an anxious glance over his shoulder, down the alley. "There was no one there, so maybe—"

"No, she was going to have dinner with Bill and Fleur." Draco raked a hand over his hair.

"Well, she'll be fine, then—"

"She's there now," Draco pointed out, frustrated. "But what if she leaves, what if she tries to come home, we have to warn her—"

"They're at Shell Cottage?" Granger interrupted. When Draco nodded, she said promptly, "Fine, let's go, then." And without waiting for him, she turned on the spot and disappeared with a loud crack.

Swearing under his breath, Draco quickly followed her, Apparating to the beach off Shell Cottage. The dark alley and the fallen Death Eater disappeared, and soon he was standing on an equally-dark shore, the gentle sound of water lapping against rock the only noise he could hear. He cast a glance around him, but everything was dark, save for the lights a distance away, marking the house, Shell Cottage. Draco wanted to run to it and make sure Ginny was there, make sure that she and Will stayed there, but he suppressed that impulse and cast another glance around. "Granger? Granger! Are you here?"

"I'm here, Malfoy." Draco whirled around and squinted into the darkness, but he still couldn't see her.

"Where are you?" he demanded.

"I've cast a Disillusionment Charm on myself," she said. Her voice came out quite distinctly, not three paces from him, but he still couldn't see a thing. "I'll run up to the house and look in the window, all right? Just wait here."

Cursing again, Draco folded his arms and waited petulantly. He couldn't see a trace of Granger as she, presumably, ran over to the house to look in. He couldn't see a damn thing. A couple of minutes later, however, she appeared out of the darkness directly in front of him, her wand held over her head as she lifted the Disillusionment Charm.

"She's there," Granger said. "They're all sitting at the table, eating."

"We still need to warn her," Draco argued. "Look, I'll just go up there and—"

"And what?" Granger said shrilly, her voice hardly more than a whisper. "Malfoy, if you go in there, it's going to raise some questions you don't have answers to yet, and besides that, you likely won't be able to leave. And I…" She grimaced. "I…need…you, to take me someplace where I can hide." She sounded as though she deeply regretted admitting this.

Draco sighed. "Well, then, send your Patronus up there with a warning. Like you did with me."

"I can't do it," she said, looking alarmed. "They'll know it's from me! I could tell you how to do it, I suppose—"

"I know how to do it," Draco grumbled, raising his wand. "Told you, I've done work for the Order. I had to learn how to do this." He cast his Patronus with a warning not to go back to their flat. It materialized for a moment in the air, then shot off, a silvery streak in the darkness.

Granger pursed her lips, staring off after it for a moment. "Was that…a ferret?"

"Don't say a word, Granger," Draco snarled. "Let's just go." Trying not to flinch, he tentatively held out his hand to her, determinedly looking the other way.

"What are you doing?" Granger asked, sounding astonished.

"Well, you don't know how to get there, do you? You'll have to Side-Along Apparate. With me." He let out a long-suffering sigh.

The moment Granger took his hand, he turned on the spot, and they left the beach behind. Draco could only hope that Ginny wouldn't be stupid to try and go tearing off to the flat to investigate. Or rather, he could only hope that Bill would be able to keep her from doing so.

A second later, they were standing out in a dark, wooded area. Draco snatched his hand out of Granger's as soon as they touched down. As he surreptitiously wiped his hand on his slacks, Granger glanced around, squinting. "Where are we?" she asked, her eyes narrowed.

"Just outside Wiltshire."

She turned to him, blinking in surprise. "Your manor?"

"Just outside the grounds." Draco turned away from her and began tramping through the forest, searching for the entrance to the tunnel which led into the manor. He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder at her. "Why don't you want anyone knowing you're here, anyway?"

Granger caught his eyes for a moment, looking startled, before she looked away. "I just don't," she said quietly. "I'm not—I'm not coming back here. To all of them, I mean. Not unless Ron…" She inhaled sharply, as though saying his name were painful. "I just don't want to get their hopes up if…"

Draco rolled his eyes. "You're assuming they'd be happy to see you."

"I was talking about Ron," she snapped. "I just—I don't think I couldn't nottell them, that he could—" She stopped. "Never mind."

A moment later, Draco had located the entrance, and they went deep down under the earth, crossing through the tunnel, into the manor. Draco had told Granger about Malfoy Manor, and why he didn't have it anymore, months ago, when she had demanded to know about he and Ginny living together, so she didn't question now why they were sneaking in this way. They said nothing to each other as they hurried down the tunnel, even though it took more than a half hour to reach the end of it. Finally, the tunnel sloped upwards, coming out into a tiny cellar.

As the two of them crawled out into the small room, Draco looked around at Granger. "Er—listen. You're going to have to share your hiding place."

"What?" Granger's eyes flashed as she dusted off her clothes. "Malfoy, I told you I don't want anyone—"

"Trust me." Draco tried for a smirk, but was sure it came off as more of a grimace. "This person won't care if you're back or if the weasel king is alive, all right?" Without waiting for another objection, he turned and climbed the ladder that led up to the trapdoor in the kitchen pantry.

"Who is it?" Granger demanded, climbing up behind him. "Is this person in hiding, too? But what are they doing here? Malfoy, I swear, if you've got some Death Eater in hiding here—"

"As if I'd lock you and a Death Eater up in a room together," Draco said scathingly. "Not that I'm worried about you, but who knows what you'd do to him."

"Then who—"

She broke off as they came out of the pantry and stepped around the corner. Draco stopped abruptly, as he'd found himself on the wrong end of Blaise Zabini's wand, leveled at his chest. "Hold off, Zabini, it's only me!" he hissed.

To his left and slightly behind him, he could hear Granger spluttering. "But—what—how—he—you—"

Blaise instantly switched his wand from Draco to Granger, his eyes narrowing on her. "What is she doing here, Malfoy? No one can know that I'm here!"

Draco rolled his eyes. "The pair of you, honestly…"

"But you're—dead!" Granger gasped. "You—everyone thought—after Hogsmeade—how are you not dead?"

"No one can know she's here, either," Draco cut in. "Put your bloody wand down, Zabini, and let us in, why don't you?"

Still looking extremely distrustfully at both of them, Blaise reluctantly lowered his wand and took a step back. Draco started forward, then paused and took Granger by the arm, yanking her into the kitchen with him. She yelped, her eyes wide, still staring at Blaise as though he were some bogie out of a child's fairy tale.

"Now, listen up, both of you," Draco said harshly, practically tossing Granger into the middle of the kitchen. Blaise retreated to the far wall, an ugly expression on his face. "We're going to run through this fast, all right? Because I have to get out of here, and I still want some answers out of Granger here before I go. Blaise—" he said, turning to look at Granger, "—is not dead. Never has been. The Death Eaters killed his whole family, he went into hiding, they kidnapped him, he escaped. Now he's here. Got it?"

Granger made a whimpering sort of sound that might have been a 'yes.'

"Granger," he continued, turning to Blaise, "doesn't want any of her buddies to know that she's back in town, or that we think Ron Weasley might be alive. Don't ask me why, she's got some weird, noble intentions or something. Either way, it seems there are Death Eaters after her, as well, so she's staying here. All right?"

"She bloody well isn't staying here," Blaise growled.

Ignoring him, Draco turned back to Granger. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two men, finally coming to rest on Blaise. "Ginny…always said…" She trailed off and took a few steps back, sinking onto a stool beside the cabinets. "She always thought you were alive," she said hoarsely, dropping her head in her hands.

"I've been told," Blaise said shortly.

"Granger," Draco snapped, turning to face her head-on. "What were the Death Eaters doing in my flat? Were they after me, or Ginny? Or my son? Do you know?"

Granger looked up slowly, lowering her hands. "I—after you?" She sounded confused. "No…no, Malfoy, they followed me there. I don't think they wanted anything to do with you."

Rather than feeling calmed by this, a hint of panic hitched in his throat. "What do you mean, they followed you there?"

"They found me. At my flat," she clarified. "Four of them. They grabbed at me before I had a chance to do much more than get my wand, but I tried to Apparate anyway. Only two of them managed to come along with me, and, well—I Apparated into your flat."

Blaise sneered, looking at Draco. "Don't you have any wards on that place, Draco?"

"It's a Muggle flat, we're not allowed—" Draco ran his hands through his hair, roughing it up. "You Apparated directly into my flat? How did you even know—"

"I—I've been there before." Granger cast him a quick, guilty look. "A few months ago, after you came to see me. I just wanted to see if you were telling the truth, about you and Ginny, so I…I found out where you lived, and, well—no one was home," she tacked on defensively, as if that made it okay to break into his flat. "I was in and out."

Draco squeezed his eyes shut, wishing he would wake up and find this all to be a bad, bad dream. "So you Apparated into my flat," he said, breathing through his nostrils in an attempt to remain composed. "Two Death Eaters came with you. And…?"

"Well, one of them got splinched, a bit, but he wasn't that bad off, and he—he sort of took a quick look around and then Disapparated." She swallowed. "Likely back to my flat, to tell the other two where I'd gone…the other Death Eater was still holding onto me, but I managed to fight him off a bit, and I…ran." She shook her head. "I could've Apparated again, but I thought I should warn you, so once I'd left your flat and put some distance between me and the Death Eater, I sent you that Patronus. Only then, he caught up with me, and, well…" She shrugged. "You know the rest."

Draco stared at her. For a moment, he was struck speechless. He exchanged a glance with Blaise, whose eyes were glittering with half-amusement, half-exasperation. Finally Draco groaned, letting his head fall into one of his hands. "Why—" He shook his head. "Why did you Apparate into my flat?"

"Well—well, I sort of panicked, and—you were the first thing I thought of!" Granger's voice sounded a bit pinched, but she stared him down resolutely. "I didn't have a lot of time to think about it, and as you're the only person from the wizarding world I've spoken to in over a year—"

"Don't you understand what you've done!" Draco snarled. "No Death Eaters have come after me, after us, since they took my son nearly two years ago! They've left us alone! Only now, with you going to my flat, they're going to think I'm helping you! Helping Potter, even! They'll think I know where he is—"

"I wouldn't go that far—" Granger protested.

"I would." Draco threw Blaise a knowing glance. "They can be extremely paranoid, trust me." He expected Blaise to agree with him at this, but the man was shaking his head, a sardonic expression in his eyes.

"What?" Draco demanded.

"You can't blame Granger for this," Blaise said.

Granger goggled at him. "Excuse me?"

"What do you mean, I can't blame her?" Draco said, wondering if Blaise had finally lost his marbles.

"I mean, yeah, she's likely brought them down on you now." Blaise shrugged. "But you should be grateful it's happened like this, when you weren't home, and now you've been given some warning."

"What are you on about?" Draco demanded.

"Draco, you can't possibly think you were actually safe from them," Blaise said scornfully. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Just because they hadn't come after you lately? Well, yeah, most of them got thrown in Azkaban, or else left the country. But that wasn't going to last. They were always going to come after you again, and you're naïve to think otherwise."

"But why—"

"Because they hate you, you idiot! I don't think you really grasp how much they all loathe you." Blaise's eyes flashed for a moment, going dark. "But I heard enough, locked up in the Riddle House, to understand the general sentiment surrounding you. With the exception of your father and his few, remaining cronies, they'd all love nothing more than to do you in. Oh, there might be a few who still think you could be useful," he spat. "Now that you're all chummy with the Order. But that only gives those few incentive to continue to try and take your son, to use against you. Or Ginny, for that matter," he threw in.

Draco stared at him, dread pooling in his gut. He didn't want to admit it, to say it aloud, but Blaise was right, and he felt an idiot for thinking they'd ever been close to safe in that Muggle flat, with no defenses, nothing to guard them against attack. "But my father—" he worked out.

"You know very well your father has next to no influence with anyone, anymore," Blaise cut in. "Trust me. They were always going to come after you." He shrugged. "Now you've got a bit of time to work out how to keep yourself safe."

Draco rubbed a hand over his eyes. Granger had gone quiet, looking tentatively between the two of them. In spite of Blaise's words, Draco shot her a glare before straightening. "Well, whatever the reason, I've got to go. Can I trust you two not to kill each other if I leave you alone?" he asked pointedly. "No magic, remember, or the Minsitry will be down on both of you quicker than you can say 'Stupefy.'"

"I'm not going to hurt her," Blaise drawled, but Granger shot to her feet, looking at Draco in concern.

"But where are you going?" she demanded.

"To my flat," he said impatiently. "I need to—"

"You can't go back there! The Death Eaters could still be there!"

"Ginny or Bill or whoever will have alerted the Aurors, assuming they got my warning," Draco cut in. "I doubt the Death Eaters are still there, and if they are, they'll be in Auror custody—"

"And how are you going to explain to those Aurors, or Ginny, or anyone else, for that matter, where you've been since you sent that warning?" she said furiously. "By the time you get back out that tunnel, it'll have been nearly two hours since you sent that Patronus. And you can't tell them you were bringing me here—"

"I'm clear on that, thanks," he said coldly. "I'll them there was a Death Eater on my tail—"

"And it took you this long to shake him?" She shook her head. "No, you can't go back there. Not straight away, anyhow. Maybe…" She bit her lip. "If you went to Grimmauld Place…but Tracey and Pucey will be there. But if you got in past them…" She trailed off, looking frustrated. "No, I can't see how that will work."

Blaise had come to attention suddenly, looking intrigued. "Tracey Davis?" he echoed. "And Adrian Pucey? Are at this…Grimmauld Place, or whatever?"

Granger nodded absently. Draco turned to him, eyes narrowed. "What're you thinking, Blaise?"

"Well, Davis and Pucey…" Blaise shrugged. "Just ask them to cover for you. They'll do it. You don't have to tell them why."

Granger looked up with a frown. "I'd hardly think so," she said. "They're in the Order, they'll want to know what you're up to! They won't lie for you just because you ask."

Draco was still eyeing Blaise. "Yes, they will," he said slowly.

"I can't see why—" Granger broke off, looking exasperated. "What is this, some—some—Slytherin House code, or something?"

Blaise smirked at her. "Something like that."

"I'll go there, then." When Granger shot him an warning look, he said, in irritation, "Don't worry, Granger. Whatever happens, I won't tell them about you. But this is the best option, yeah?" Without waiting for an answer, he shot Blaise one last glance. "No funny business, I mean it."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Blaise said dryly. "Now get out of here, why don't you."

It took Draco, again, more than half an hour to get back out of the tunnel and into the woods, just outside the manor's perimeter. As soon as he was out, he Apparated, straight onto the top step outside the front door of Grimmauld Place. He glanced around behind him nervously. He didn't see anyone watching the place, but you couldn't be too careful. Hastily, he slipped inside the door and into the dark hallway within.

He headed down to the kitchen, where he knew he'd most likely find Davis or Pucey. He didn't want to call out to them for fear of waking the screeching portrait, even if the Black family matriarch did seem to approve of him being there. Instead, he went quietly into the kitchen where, to his relief, he found both Davis and Pucey. The former was pacing across the room, while Adrian sat at the kitchen counter in silence, staring at the fireplace.

Davis spotted him first. Her green eyes went wide and she let out a little shriek, as if he were a ghost. Pucey looked around immediately, but he seemed to relax when he saw who it was. "Malfoy, thank Merlin," he said, getting to his feet and coming around the table. "Everyone's been looking for you. They told us—"

"Who told you what?" Draco interrupted, coming into the room. "And when?"

Adrian blinked at these questions, but Tracey stepped forward, eyeing him suspiciously. "Lupin contacted us almost two hours ago," she said. "He told us you'd sent Ginny a warning about Death Eaters at your flat. How did—"

"And you haven't talked to anyone since then?" Draco demanded, looking between the two of them. Davis broke off, glaring at him, so Draco turned his full attention on Pucey. "Well? Have you?"

"No," Pucey said slowly. He stood completely still, looking at Draco with a knowing gleam in his eyes. "Why?"

Draco looked between the two of them and took a deep breath. "Because as far as you're both concerned," he said, "I've been here for more than an hour. This whole time."

Pucey and Davis exchanged a glance, and Davis folded her arms over her chest. "Why?" she asked bluntly. "What've you been up to, Draco?"

"None of your business," Draco said shortly.

"Then why should we lie for you?" Adrian asked with a sigh.

Draco leveled his gaze at him. "You really have to ask?"

The two of them stared at each other, silence stretching between them. Tracey eyed them uncertainly before bursting out, "Look, we work for the Order now! We can't just lie to Lupin and whoever else about you not being here! Especially as you're so in with the Death Eaters—"

"Look, I swear," Draco said, cutting her off. "This has nothing to do with the Death Eaters. I wasn't doing anything…dangerous, or…bad…all right?" He hesitated. "I was just helping out a friend. A friend," he added, when Davis opened her mouth again, "who prefers to remain anonymous."

"Not a Death Eater friend?" Pucey asked swiftly.

"No." Draco looked him in the eye. "I swear."

For a moment, Pucey only looked at him, as though weighing him up. Then, "Fine," he said shortly. "We'll keep your secret."

"We will?" Davis said glumly.

"Yes," Pucey said firmly, shooting her a look.

Davis sighed. "Oh, but—"

They all jumped as the empty fireplace suddenly roared to life, green flames springing up within it. A second later, a head appeared in the flames—Remus Lupin. Draco hadn't seen him in a while, which was to his liking.

"Have either of you—Draco!" Lupin's gaze snapped to him. "Oh, good, you're there, we were beginning to—where have you been?" he asked, his tone almost stern. "Ginny's been out of her mind."

"Where is she?" Draco asked quickly.

"Still at Shell Cottage," Lupin said. "It seemed safest for her to stay there for now. Will, too," he added, when Draco opened his mouth to ask. "They're safe. Where have you been? Ginny says you sent her your Patronus nearly two hours ago."

Draco hesitated, almost shooting Pucey a look out of the corner of his eye. "I—"

"He's been here for more than an hour, Remus," Tracey said, coming forward. "Sorry, we should've contacted you straight off, but he was…injured…I mean, nothing too bad, but we were a bit distracted, he was telling us—"

"A couple of Death Eaters were on my tail," Draco cut in. "I had a time of it losing them. But I've been here. Sorry." He didn't bother to sound toosorry; Lupin wouldn't expect it of him.

"All right." Lupin's brow was furrowed, but he didn't seem suspicious. "Well, if you're all right now, Draco, you should go back to your flat. The Death Eaters are gone and Tonks is there, with some other Aurors. They'll want to talk to you, I expect. Have you any idea what they were doing there? Now, I mean?"

Draco shrugged. "I expect the same old business," he said. "But I don't know for sure."

"All right. I'll talk to you about it later," Lupin said. A second later, he was gone, and the flames died down until they'd disappeared.

Draco scowled. Just what he needed, a friendly chat with the werewolf. "I'd better go, then," he said, already heading out of the kitchen. At the doorway, he paused, looking over his shoulder. "Thanks," he said curtly.

"No problem," Pucey said.

Just ouside Grimmauld Place, he Disapparated, back to Manchester, to his flat. As he appeared on the dootstep outside their building, he shook his head, catching himself for a moment. All this Apparating had him dizzy.

He hurried inside and up the stairs to his flat. Two Aurors stood outside, conversing quietly with each other; they looked up with hard faces as Draco came down the corridor towards them. "Tonks inside?" he asked, before they could say anything. One of them nodded, and he pushed past them, into the flat, shutting the door behind him.

There were two more Aurors inside, looking around, and that was besides Tonks, who stood in the kitchen, surveying the scene before her. A lamp was in shattered pieces on the floor beside the sofa, and Will's highchair was on its side, sprawled across the floor, along with a few small books that had been sitting on its tray.

"You might want to let someone know," Draco said by way of greeting, approaching Tonks, "I Apparated straight here. I know the Ministry doesn't like it, but it seemed prudent, given the circumstances."

Tonks waved a hand. Her hair, he noticed, was bright blue and spiky this evening. "Obliviators are on their way, anyhow, they'll have to question everyone in the building, I'm sure."

Draco nodded, trying to appear unbothered by this. He hoped none of the Muggles had seen Granger running out of here.

"So." Tonks leveled a direct look at him. "I won't ask you where you've been—"

"Good, because I'm not telling."

"—because I suspect Remus already has."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, he wants to have a chat with me later."

"What happened here?" Tonks asked, getting right to the point. She gestured about the flat with her wand. "Start at the beginning. You were here when the Death Eaters got here?"

"No," Draco said truthfully. "I'd been out with Pansy, I'd just gotten back. They were here when I got home—" And now came the lies. "Waiting for me, I guess."

"Did they say anything to you?"

Draco shook his head. "Maybe they were going to, but as soon as I saw them, I made a run for it. One of them chased after me. At one point, I put enough distance between us to send a warning to Ginny. Otherwise, I led that Death Eater on a merry chase," he grumbled, trying to sound annoyed by it. "I kept Apparating, but he kept getting a hold of me. Finally shook him and went to Grimmauld Place. Seemed safest."

Tonks nodded. Her face was impassive, but Draco thought she'd bought his story. She had no reason not to. "Any idea why they were here?" she said abruptly. "Anything at all? Why've they left you alone for so long? Why come after you now?"

"That's what I was wondering," Draco said sourly. He dropped into one of the chairs at their small table, just off the kitchen. "But, well…this could be some of the ones that fled after the Riddle House two summers ago. Maybe they're filtering back now," he said glumly.

Tonks raised an eyebrow. "If that's true," she said, "you can't stay here anymore."

Draco only looked at her.

"This flat," she said pointedly. "It's not safe here, Draco."

He stared out over the wrecked living room. "I'm aware."

She shrugged. "You could stay at Grimmauld Place."

Draco glared at her. "I'm not living there."

For a moment, there was a mischievous gleam in Tonks' eyes. "But Sirius' mum so loves having you there."

Draco snorted in disgust and looked away.

"Look, seriously, if you don't want to live there, fine. I mean, it's not like I don't understand why," she muttered. "But you need a place as good. A wizarding place. Large, if you can swing it. Something you can make Unplottable, and someplace you can put up Anti-Apparition wards and other spells to keep people out. Might even want to consider doing the Fideluius Charm, but of course, that could get a bit tricky, so only if you really think you'd need it…"

She went on, but Draco was only half-listening. As it happened, there was such a place, a place he'd thought of immediately. A place, in fact, that he'd been thinking about for the past several days. It didn't have all that defensive magic on it now, but it could be managed. And, best of all, it wouldn't cost a penny.

It would cost something else, however.

"I have a townhouse," Draco said abruptly.

Tonks broke off, looking at him in surprise. "A what?"

"A townhouse. It's in my name, so it wasn't confiscated with everything else," he said, drumming his fingers on the table. "I suppose they'd take it if I tried to sell it, or something. But I can live there."

"What I want to know is," Tonks said, nonplussed, "why aren't you living there already, you prat."

Draco hesitated, then plunged on, "Because I have to be married to live there."

Tonks stared at him incredulously.

"I know." He waved a miserable hand. "Weird, pureblood family nonsense. You know, it ensures an heir, and all that."

"You have an heir."

"Yes, well, my father set the stipulations, and no amount of common sense can get them changed," Draco said glumly. "Only he can. Which isn't likely to happen anytime soon, given that he's probably in Tanzania or Ecquador or someplace equally distant from here."

Tonks didn't reply; she only looked at him. They were both silent for a moment, and Draco was sure they were contemplating the same thing. Finally, before Draco could think about it too much, he opened his mouth and said, "What do you think—" He swallowed "—if I were to ask Ginny to marry me?"

Tonks continued to simply look at him, but, for a moment, her lips twitched.

"Don't laugh," Draco warned her.

"Right, no." Her lips twitched again, and a small bubble of laughter issued forth from them before she got her expression straight again. "Sorry. Um. Well. It's an…interesting thought."

Draco rolled his eyes and looked away from her, absently watching the Aurors who were detailing every inch of the flat. "I mean, it makes sense, right?" he said suddenly. "I mean, you said it yourself. It's not safe here, and any other place like this wouldn't be safe either, and it's not like we can really afford much else. Well, all right, I get paid more than I did back when we rented out here, but not that much more. I mean, how else are we going to get a place that defensible, right?"

"Have you talked to your solicitor about this? Maybe find a way around these, er—stipulations?"

"I've been doing that for the past year and a half, Tonks," he said wearily.

Tonks paused. "Are you sure you don't want to live at Grimmauld Place?" she asked, almost hopefully.

Draco turned and glared at her. "Do you have some problem with me marrying Ginny?"

"Well, no, not really." Tonks pursed her lips. "Not personally, I mean. You're a, er—decent enough bloke, and Ginny can look after herself—"

"You make it sound as if I'm going to murder her or something," Draco muttered.

"It's just—Malfoy—" Tonks crossed her arms over her chest. "Is there—any other reason—besides getting this house—that you'd want to ask her to marry you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

Tonks shot him an exasperated look. "I mean," she said impatiently, "that where you come from, marrying someone to gain money or land might be the usual thing to do, and might be all you know—"

"Why does everyone think that?" Draco objected. "My dad loved my mum, I'll have you know!"

"Fine, then, you've hit the nail on the coffin," Tonks said bluntly. "Do you love Ginny?"

He hadn't expected her to come right out and say it. He blinked, feeling as though he'd been smacked around the face. "Er—what?" he said weakly. "I mean—well—what does that matter? We're just talking about a business arrangement here, and—I mean, it's not like anything would really change, you know, we already live together, and, you know, there's Will, and I'm his dad, and she's his mum, and—"

"I know all that," Tonks interrupted. "But, Draco—"

"And she'd probably be glad of it, even if there wasn't this whole safety issue thing!" Draco carried on. "I mean, she hates this flat! It's cheap—well, cheaper than she's used to, I mean, and the Floo never works, and it's drafty, and she wants out of here more than I do! So surely she'd be okay with—"

"Draco." Tonks crossed the few steps through the kitchen and came to face him over the small table. "I get all that. And Ginny certainly has a practical streak that will see all that, and agree with all that. But she deserves more than that. So all I'm saying is, if there's even a tiny part of you that—wants more, or that feels…anything…about her—you need to tell her that. You should include that. If you do propose to her."

Draco tried not to choke on the word 'propose.'

Ginny rubbed a hand over her forehead, pausing for a moment to slump over the nightstand in the bedroom Fleur had shown her to. Malfoy had finally arrived a little while ago, done speaking with Tonks and other Aurors at their flat. When they'd received his Patronus warning over dinner, they had immediately contacted Lupin and Tonks, who had been able to put the Order on alert, and get Aurors to their flat straight away. Unfortunately, none of the Death Eaters had been caught, and it seemed safest to stay put at Shell Cottage for the night.

Ginny was too exhausted to think about where they were going to go tomorrow.

Bam.

Ginny jumped around, nearly snatching up her wand before she saw who had just barged into the room. "Malfoy!" She suppressed the urge to clutch a hand at her chest. "Don't—don't do that!"

"Sorry." He had a surly expression on his face and, Ginny thought, couldn't have sounded less sorry. He was still wearing the Muggles clothes he'd obviously worn to have dinner with Pansy—crisp slacks and a button-down, which was now quite open at the neck. He frowned at something across the room, and, without looking at her, said, "Will asleep?"

"Yes," Ginny said. She studied Malfoy for a moment. There was something… odd …around his eyes. "He's fine." She paused. "Malfoy, are you okay?"

He didn't answer right away, continuing to stare at the far wall, a frown on his face. Then he turned to her abruptly and said, "We can't go back to the flat, you know. I mean, we can't live there. Not anymore." He let out a short, humorless laugh. "It was stupid to live there at all. Completely defenseless."

"Well—yes. I know." Ginny sighed, sinking onto the bed. This really was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. "Living in any kind of Muggle place just isn't going to cut it, not anymore. I suppose we'll need to look at wizarding flats—maybe we could find something—"

"I don't—" Ginny looked up as Malfoy interrupted her, then hesitated, before proceeding to say, "I don't think a wizarding flat is going to work either, Weasley. I mean, for one thing, how're we going to afford one? You said yourself they were far more expensive—"

"Well, yes," Ginny sad uncertainly, "but your salary is higher now, so, I mean, I think we could swing it—"

"But we have to break our lease on the Muggle flat, first," he pointed out, "and we'll have to pay a fee. Unless we do a Confundus Charm on the landlord."

Ginny glared at him. "Malfoy!"

"See, I know you woudn't like that idea," he said quickly, a little too quickly, Ginny thought. "Anyhow, on top of that, we'd be lucky to find a place that's not going to want at least a month's rent up front, and, well…I mean, maybe we could manage it, but things would be really tight for a while…" He trailed off. Ginny opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, he plowed on, "Anyhow, Tonks doesn't think even something like that would be safe enough."

Ginny pulled one of her legs around, on top of the bed, and frowned. "You talked to Tonks about this?"

Malfoy turned to face her. "She thought someplace large would be best, someplace defensible, you know, like the manor was. We could put up Anti-Intruder Jinxes—I mean, sure, we could do the same in a flat, but in a small space, they wouldn't always do much good. And we'd need it to be Unplottable, and maybe—"

"Someplace like Grimmauld Place, you mean," Ginny said flatly. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm not living there, so you can forget it. It might be your kind of place, all dark and creepy and morbid, but—"

"Grimmauld Place?" Malfoy cut through her, looking incredulous. "I don't want to live there either, Weasley. I mean—live with Davis? Are you mad?"

Ginny blinked. "Well—all right—that's fine, I mean, good, but—" She broke off, shaking her head. "Then I don't understand, Malfoy. It's not as though we could afford anything like that, as you yourself have pointed out, so where—"

"I'm talking about the townhouse," Malfoy said. He shut his eyes in a long-suffering sort of way, as though she were the stupidest person he'd ever had to deal with. "You silly bint."

For a moment, Ginny stared at him wordlessly. "I—but—" She was too tired to process this. Her brain was spinning furiously, as though trying to send her some kind of signal, something she was missing, but she couldn't think. "But you haven't got access to the townhouse. Unless you've found a way around the stipulations?"

"Well, no, I haven't."

"Then—" Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Well, then, you've got to get married to get the townhouse. Are you saying you think you should get married?"

Malfoy stared at her with a slightly incredulous look in his eyes. "I'm saying that I think—" He swallowed "—we should get married."

There was a moment, then, when Ginny thought the floor might've dropped out beneath her, or rather, the bed, which she was sitting on. Everything seemed to rock for a moment. The incredulity and exasperation had gone from Malfoy's face; he now was watching her rather nervously. Ginny hardly noticed, because a familiar feeling was building within her, slowly but surely. Panic.

"But—I—" She didn't mean to, but a breathless sound escaped her lips, like a laugh, only tinged with disbelief. "You think…we should get married?"

"Well—for the townhouse, you know—"

"I mean, I know my mum suggested, when you first lost the manor…" Ginny swallowed. "But she was only joking, you know—"

"Actually, your mother talked to me about this only last week, and she wasn't joking then," Malfoy said wryly.

"You talked to my mother about this?" Ginny said, fighting off a surge of hysteria.

"Look—I mean—I mean, it's just to get the townhouse, Weasley, what's the big deal?" Malfoy scrubbed a hand through his hair. "It would just be—I mean—nothing would change from how things are now, would it? We already live together, and raise Will together—"

Panic was growing more rapidly within Ginny now, like one building block stacked on top of another, filling up every inch of her lungs, her breathing space. It was a highly uncomfortable feeling, a weight putting pressure on her chest, like being slowly crushed to death.

"I mean, we have to do what's safest, don't we?" Malfoy was pacing now, though if he was looking at her at all, Ginny didn't know, because she couldn't seem to see him. "That has to be the first priority. We shouldn't take any chances just because—just because—"

"Just because what?" Ginny said faintly. She wasn't sure where she found the breath to say anything, every last bit of it was being squeezed out of her lungs, like a deflating balloon.

"Because we—we aren't—"

Ginny looked up at that precise moment, somehow finding the focus to look right at Draco, and, just then, he dared a glance at her. His pacing faltered as their eyes met. He hesitated before turning to face her, one hand anchored on the bedpost, holding him still.

"Look, Weasley—Ginny," he corrected himself. Ginny felt a flinch shudder through her body when he said her name. "It's not like…I mean, we're just talking about a—a business arragement, here…"

His voice trailed off weakly. Ginny thought the only reason she was still managing to look at him was because she was frozen solid, because the weight of panic pinning her down didn't allow her to move a muscle.

"But…" Malfoy paused. He dared another quick glance at Ginny, and made an odd movement, as though he were going to sit on the bed beside her but then thought better of it. His expression became oddly…open…in a way she'd never seen it before.

And something about that terrified Ginny.

"It's not like…I mean, sure, when I started thinking about this it was just to get the townhouse…because you hated that flat, and now, because it's not safe…but…"

Ginny felt her breath hitch in her throat.

"…but there could—I mean, I couldn't ask you to do this. Ginny." He met her gaze once again, and his eyes were darker, bluer, than she'd ever seen them. "If I didn't think…if it wasn't possible…that, maybe, it doesn't just have to be about the townhouse—that maybe—"

"Stop." Ginny flung up a hand, shutting her eyes. "Don't."

"Ginny—"

"You don't—" The crushing weight, bearing down on her chest, blossomed from pressure into pain. Stark, excruciating pain, filling her until she thought she couldn't bear it. She was going to break from the sheer force of it, she was going to shatter into a million pieces— "I just—I think—" Ginny tried to take in a deep breath, to make herself sound normal. "I mean, surely we can get by with a flat," she heard herself say, in a horribly offhand tone. "I just don't think it's necessary…"

She trailed off when she looked up and saw Malfoy's face. The open expression was gone; he looked as shut-off and isolated as she herself was. His eyes were gray again, and cold, as cold as ice. Yet there was something there…something hidden, something wretched… "Right." His voice was not as contained as his expression; it shook with barely-suppressed anger. "I forgot. Marrying me isn't worth the risk, is it?"

"I—no, I didn't mean—"

"Forget it, Weasley." Malfoy was on his feet in a flash, turning his back on her. Somehow, without being able to see his face, the hard, bitter note in his voice was more clear than ever. "I shouldn't have bothered."

Ginny felt herself stumble to her feet. "No, Draco, wait, please—"

But he was out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Ginny stared after him, motionless. It should've felt better, now, the pain should be leaving her, letting her go, but instead it boiled down on her, more intensely than before. Stifling a whimper, Ginny sank back onto the bed, curling up tightly against herself, as though, if she became small enough, it would all, finally, stop hurting.

Draco had always had a talent for shutting down his feelings. It was a talent he'd employed for most of his life, for as long as he could remember. It was something he had always done, all throughout his life at Hogwarts, something he had most certainly done when he'd been ordered to get Death Eaters into Hogwarts and kill Dumbledore.

Unfortunately, it was something that, lately, he'd been letting go a bit. And now he regretted it tenfold. But, at least, it was easy enough to bring back, easy enough to recall, how to shut those bits of him away, where he couldn't feel them. So that was exactly what he did.

The morning after he'd—well, the morning after the Death Eaters had followed Granger to his flat—they'd left Shell Cottage and moved, temporarily, into Grimmauld Place, with Tracey and Adrian. Shell Cottage was not quite as impregnable as the Order's headquarters were, and besides, Bill and Fleur lived there with Victoire, their daughter, who was only slightly younger than Will, and it seemed pointless to remain there and put her in danger when there was another alternative. However disagreeable an alternative it was.

Besides Davis and Pucey being there nearly all of the time, members of the Order of the Phoenix were constantly flittering in and out, which drove Draco mad. Not only was the Order largely comprised of people he despised, but, well, he wasn't in much of a mood to put up with any people at all. Therefore, upon their arrival, he retreated into a room on the top floor and stayed, shut up there, for most of the time that he was home. He came out only to leave for work, eat, and spend time with Will.

He had been back only once to the manor, to check up on Blaise and Granger. Neither of them were very happy being shut up there together, in the kitchens, especially Blaise, whom Draco had warned not to leave at all, until he was ready to conclude this business he had to take care of. Granger could come and go she she pleased, for all he cared.

He hadn't given much thought to Granger's search orBlaise's plight at all in the past few days, but he was struck with a sudden idea one morning when, to Draco's displeasure, Bill Weasley stopped by. Draco was in the kitchen with Tracey Davis, who was watching Draco scarf down his breakfast with an expression of distaste on her face.

"What?" he demanded, glaring at her.

"If you choke, don't expect any help from me," she said snidely, turning to pour herself a cup of tea.

That was when Bill dropped in. He and Draco exchanged their customary greeting without looking at each other. Bill and Davis exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before Tracey left the room, leaving Bill and Draco alone. Since that was not a situation Draco relished being in, he quickly took his plate to the sink and turned to go.

That was when it hit him.

"Er—Weasley," he said suddenly, rounding to look at the man.

Bill Weasley looked up, surprise marking his scarred face. He and Draco never, ever spoke to each other outside of saying hello; it was like a tacit agreement between them, and Draco had just breached it. "Yes?" Bill said.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "You work at Gringotts, don't you? And you've worked there for a while?"

"Since I left Hogwarts." Bill shrugged. "Though I've only worked at the branch here in England for the past…ten years or so. Why?"

"Well…" Draco leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest. "Do you know anything about a break-in at Gringotts…about…eight years ago? It would've been about a month before You-Know-Who attacked Hogsmeade," he added nervously, hoping he sounded only casually interested.

Bill frowned, putting his paper down to stare at Draco. "Yes, I remember it. Didn't hear too much about it…they hushed it up, didn't want any news about it getting out. How did youhear about it?" he asked, looking suspicious.

"Oh, er…a friend of mine knew someone that worked there. So, did they ever find out who was trying to break in? Or what they wanted?"

To Draco's dismay, Bill's expression was more suspicious than ever. "What is this about, Malfoy?" he asked abruptly.

Draco blinked. "Sorry?"

"Judging by the fact that you're asking," Bill said dryly, "I'm assuming you know the perpetrators were trying to break into your aunt's vault. Bellatrix Lestrange's vault."

Draco felt his pace quicken. "So—so they were trying to break into her vault? You know that for sure?"

Bill nodded warily. "Yes. But you…" He trailed off for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Did Ginny tell you something about this? But then, I don't know that she would've known…"

"Known what?" Draco asked, ignoring the painful way his stomach clenched at hearing Ginny's name.

For a moment, Bill didn't answer. He stared at Draco, studying him, as though considering what to say to him. Then he said, "Look. I'm only telling you this because, well, I suppose it doesn't matter much now, and you…well, you are in the Order now," he said grudgingly. "So I suppose…" He sighed. "Look, that year—around the time of the break-in, in fact—Harry, Ron, and Hermione were captured and taken to your manor. To your father and your aunt."

"I know that," Draco said impatiently.

"And apparently," Bill went on, "your aunt, for some reason, thought they had broken into her vault. And she was rather insanely put out by it, by all accounts."

Draco stared. That was not what he'd expected to hear at all. "Did—did they? Break into it, I mean?"

"I don't know," Bill admitted. "They didn't really like to let anyone in on what they were doing. They were out in hiding, you know, what with Voldemort in charge at the Ministry, but, well, they weren't just hiding. They were on some mission for Dumbledore, supposedly. But that's all I know. I don't know any details about what they'd been up to."

"But…" Draco frowned. "But they might've really tried to break in?"

Bill shrugged. "Your aunt seemed to think so. Maybe you should ask her about it."

"If only I could," Draco grumbled. He left, then; as it was, he was going to be late for work. But he kept turning this new information over and over in his head. Well, he couldn't talk to his aunt about it, not yet, anyway. They still hadn't let him in to see her.

But there was someone else he could ask about it.

"…actually brought it up to Lupin, the other day," Tracey was saying, as she folded a pair of socks together. "I mean, it's been years now. I doubt most of the Death Eaters even remember Adrian, much less that he—er—betrayed them. A good lot of them have been rounded up now, anyhow. Or they're in hiding." Tracey sighed, momentarily setting down the shirt she'd picked up from the laundry basket. "Of course, the whole incident at your flat doesn't help my case,' she grumbled.

"Sorry," Ginny said absently, holding one of Draco's shirts in her lap.

"Well, it's not your fault," Tracey said, though she did shoot Ginny a rather sour look. "Bloody Death Eaters. Can't they let anything go? I mean, they've wanted to kill Malfoy ever since he went into hiding after sixth year. That was forever ago!"

"Mm-hmm."

"They're heading down the drain, anyway, they must know that." Tracey folded the shirt she'd been holding and promptly picked up another. "More and more of them killed or in Azkaban."

"Yeah."

Tracey paused. Putting down the clothes in her hand, she sent Ginny a very direct look. "Spill it, Weasley," she said bluntly. "What's wrong with you?"

"What?" Ginny started, pulling out of her thoughts. "What do you mean? I'm fine."

"Right," Tracey said slowly. "And what've we been talking about for the past ten minutes?"

"Death—Death Eaters," Ginny said, a slightly defensive note to her voice. She had been listening. Sort of. As much as she could manage, anyway.

"And why have we been talking about Death Eaters?"

"Because…" GInny chanced a guilty look at her. "They attacked my flat?"

"Because I've been wanting to get Lupin to let Adrian out of here, that's why," Tracey said in exasperation. She smirked. "Then you and Malfoy can have Grimmauld Place all to your happy selves."

"I'm not living here," Ginny said sharply. "And definitely not with Malfoy."

"I was only joking." Tracey looked mildly surprised. She pushed the laundry basket aside and sat down on the bed beside Ginny, the bed in the room Ginny had claimed for herself and Will. It was a Sunday afternoon, and at the moment, Will was downstairs with Draco. "Anyhow, have you and Malfoy talked at all about where you're going to live now?"

Ginny's heart seemed to flip over itself. She suppressed the panic threatening to rise up within her again. "Not really."

Tracey's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Have you and Malfoy had some kind of row?"

"No," Ginny snapped.

"Only," Tracey went on, as if Ginny had not said anything, "I don't think I've heard you two say one word to each other the entire time you've been here. In fact, the other day when he was down in the kitchen for tea, I definitely saw you come down and then run back up the stairs when you saw him there."

Ginny's cheeks felt very hot; she hoped she hadn't gone red. "I did not!"

"Also—" Tracey gestured around the room "—what is this?"

"What is what?"

"Let me see if I can be tactful about this." Tracey paused, then shook her head. "No. I can't. All right, then, is there some reason you and Malfoy are not sleeping in the same bed?"

"Tracey!"

"Don't look so shocked. I've been to your flat. There is only onebedroom in that place, well, besides Will's little closet. And when I asked Fleur if the two of you slept in the same room at her place—"

Ginny groaned. "You didn't really ask her, did you?"

"—she said that you did the first time you two stayed over—when you got kicked out of Malfoy Manor, I mean." Tracey fixed her with a blunt look. "But she says last week, even though she set aside a room for you two together, Malfoy slept on the couch."

"Well, that's his choice, isn't it?"

"Ginny." All levity gone from her voice, Tracey looked at her quite seriously. There was sympathy in her eyes, which was quite odd for her—not that she wasn't a sympathetic person, but it wasn't like her to show it. "Seriously. What happened?"

Ginny swallowed. There was a part of her that very much wanted to tell Tracey everything, to share this with someone, to get it out of her. Because locking it all up inside of herself felt like being strangled. But…she didn't know if she could say it without suffocating. "I—we—he—" She tried to take a deep breath, but it came out haltingly. "He said that—that we should…get…married." She shut her eyes, unwilling to see Tracey's immediate reaction.

Silence met her words. After a moment, Ginny dared to open one eye. Tracey was staring at her, agape. Ginny tentatively opened the other eye. Tracey continued to stare at her a few seconds more. Then she started to laugh.

"Don't—don't laugh!" Ginny said indignantly. "It's not funny!"

"Well—no—I guess not," Tracey choked out, still laughing. "It's just—erm—" She took a deep, shaky breath, getting the laughter under control. She coughed. "Sorry. It's just…he asked you to marry him?"

"Well, it wasn't exactly like that," Ginny said crossly. "He didn't—I mean, he didn't propose or anything, not really. We were talking about where we should live now, where it would be safe to live, and he mentioned the townhouse, but of course, he can only get the townhouse if he gets married, and—"

"So…" Tracey's brow furrowed. "So it was just, sort of, a business proposition? He only asked you so you two could live in the townhouse?"

"Well—" Ginny felt her pulse quicken. "Well, he said—he did say—that it didn't just have to be about the townhouse…" She trailed off miserably.

Tracey's eyes had gone very wide. "And what did you say?"

Ginny felt, if possible, even more miserable remembering this bit of the conversation. She struggled with her reply, feeling her breath come a bit shorter. "I said—I said we didn't need to worry about it, because we could probably afford a flat."

Tracey stared at her. "Let me get this straight," she said flatly. "He proposed to you—hinting that it could be, like, well, an actual real proposal—and you answered in such a way that basically dismissed that idea completely?" She frowned, cocking her head. "Ginny, are you all right?"

Ginny did not feel all right. Panic was welling up in her, pushing out any available space for oxygen; it was that tortuous, crushing feeling all over again, threatening to swallow her whole.

"What is wrong with you?" Tracey asked in alarm.

"It's just—when I—" Ginny took a shuddering breath, as best she could. "When I—think—about m-m—"

"Marrying Malfoy?" Tracey guessed.

"Yes, that." Ginny shook her head. "When I—think about that—or anything—like that—I start—I feel—like I can't—b-breathe—"

Tracey watched her in alarm for a moment longer. Then, without any warning, she slapped Ginny across the face.

Ginny doubled around at the force of the slap, and, with a whoosh, her breath rushed out of her, as did the panic filling up her lungs. All at once, she could breathe again, albeit a bit shakily. She came back around slowly, astonished.

"Don't be ridiculous," Tracey snapped. "You're not some stupid bint who goes into a panic attack over a man. Get hold of yourself."

"Right," Ginny mumbled.

"Sorry I hit you, but—"

"No, you're right." Ginny ran a trembling hand through her hair, pushing it back from her face and tangling it in the process.

"Look." Tracey sighed. "I'm not exactly an expert on relationships, all right? Never have been. But, have you stopped to ask yourself why the thought of marrying Draco sends you all aflutter, and not in a good way? I mean, I know the idea would rightly disturb me, but this is you we're talking about. And you're a bit strange about Malfoy."

Ginny glared at her, but it was half-hearted.

"Because likely, there's a good reason for it," Tracey went on. "And if you sort out what that reason is, then maybe you could talk to Malfoy about it. Because honestly? You'd be nuts not to marry him if it means getting that townhouse. So sort out your issues here, and talk to the bloody man."

She left the room then, leaving Ginny alone, with the rest of the laundry, Ginny noticed absently. She sat still on the bed a moment longer, her fingers clenching around Malfoy's shirt, which she was still holding onto.

She knew why it was that marrying Draco, that having any sort of real feelings for him, terrified her. She knew exactly why. But it was absolutely the last thing she ever wanted to talk about with him.

Draco lay very still in his bed, staring up at the canopy overhead. It was very late, maybe past midnight, but he couldn't sleep, and really, wasn't even trying to. He hadn't changed out of his clothes for the day; he lay atop the green duvet, in his slacks and his shirt.

He'd meant to stop by the manor after work, so he could talk to Granger about the break-in at Gringotts, but he hadn't been able to find the motivation to do so. And now, he found himself wishing he had, because, maybe, it would've taken his mind off things.

A knock on his door startled him out of his gloomy thoughts. He frowned, lifting his head inches off the pillow to stare at the door. Who would be knocking on his door this late at night? Afraid that he was quite sure of the answer, he settled his head back down on his pillow and said, "Who is it?"

There was a moment of silence, and then, slowly, the door creaked open. Out of the corner of his eyes, Draco saw a red head peek in.

Ginny. Of course.

"Go away, Weasley, I'm sleeping," he said gruffly, turning on his side and bunching the pillow beneath his head. A sudden thought struck him, and he sat up, halfway. "Is Will all right?" he demanded.

Ginny stepped inside, half-closing the door behind her. She moved tentatively, but her face was set, determined. "He's fine."

"Oh." Draco dropped his head again. "Well, then get out."

"No." The door latched shut firmly behind her.

Draco shot her an irritated look. "Merlin, Weasley, do you know what time it is? Go away!"

"I want to talk to you," she said simply. Draco watched with suppressed trepidation as she crossed the room to him, and sat down on the foot of his bed. Barely holding back a sigh of exasperation, he made to rise to his feet. But Ginny said, sharply, "Don't," and she reached out, placing a hand on his knee.

Draco froze, stealing a glance at her. She was looking straight at him, something raw and inexplicable in her eyes. A part of him wanted to tear himself away from her; another, quite different part of him, wanted to be closer to her. With a huff, he settled back, straightening up so that he was seated back against the headboard.

Ginny drew away from him, sitting cross-legged at the foot of the bed. She watched Draco, looking oddly wistful. "This didn't used to be so…" She gestured between the two of them. "We used to be comfortable with each other, Malfoy."

Draco didn't say anything, though he realized, with a painful wrench, that she was right.

"We used to talk," she said quietly. "About anything. Or argue," she added, with a ghost of a smile that was gone in a second. "We used to take care of Will together, instead of one or the other. We used to…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "When did things stop…being like that?"

"It's been like that," Draco said bluntly, unwilling to let on how uncomfortable she was making him.

Ginny blinked. "What do you mean?"

Draco eyed her, wondering how much he should say. "Since the Riddle House," he said abruptly. Her expression registered surprise, and even a bit, indignation. Draco shrugged. "That's how I feel, anyway. You've pulled away ever since then, Ginny. Slowly, gradually." He shrugged again. "Doesn't change it."

For a moment, she looked puzzled. "But we talked about that," she said. "I told you that no one hurt me there."

"Then why?" he demanded, his voice coming out harsher than he'd intended. "You're the only one who can tell me, Weasley."

She stared at him, consternation warring on her face, and for a moment—a split-second in which he lost control—Draco ached for her, seeing her look so confused, so helpless, like a child trying to decipher a particularly difficult equation. But the confusion, then, slowly faded from her face, and she swallowed painfully.

"Have you ever thought," she said, the steady note in her voice broken only slightly with trembling, "that it wasn't anything that happened at the Riddle House to…change me…but what happened before it?"

"Before it?" Draco echoed sharply. "What do you mean, before it?"

She looked at him, her face inscrutable. "The night Will was taken," she said. "Before you told me that you knew where he was."

Draco swallowed. Of course, as if he could forget that night. Everything had been broken, everything had been so wrong, and then…he'd never so completely opened himself to another person, never been so up-front about his inner thoughts, his feelings. Thinking about that night both hurt and comforted him at the same time. Oh, he and Ginny had slept together since then, many times. But…

It had never been like that again. Not ever.

"That night…" Ginny was staring at an invisible spot on the bed sheets, not meeting his eyes. "That was…more than just sex, Draco."

"I know that," he snapped. "I was there too, remember?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "Of course." She bit her lip, quiet for a moment, before continuing. "It's just…I—" Her voice broke a little. "I completely trusted you, in that moment. I completely—" She shut her eyes, inhaling slowly, as if suppressing something painful. "I gave myself to you. My whole self."

Draco said nothing. He didn't think he could move an inch.

"And then…" Her eyes opened, and the raw expression there had intensified into open, throbbing pain. "And then, you told me, how you'd lied to me."

Draco thought he felt his heart shudder, an old, familiar guilt welling up in him.

"I'm not saying this to blame you!" she said quickly, daring a glance at him. "That's not…I was angry, of course, but I'm long past that, Malfoy. I forgave you for that a long time ago," she said, her voice quiet again. "So, please, don't think I'm saying this to bring that up again, because I'm not."

"Then why are you?" Draco asked, surprised by how evenly his words came out.

"Because I need you to understand," she said, her eyes pleading with him. "Why I—" She stopped, taking a deep breath. "When I went to the Burrow, after I left you that day, I—it was like I—was broken, Malfoy." Her voice shook. "Everything—everything hurt. My parents were speaking to me, asking me what had happened, but it was like I couldn't hear them, couldn't see them. Like someone had dropped some big, black gauze over me, and everything was muffled, and—"

"Like the whole world was blocked out," Draco said dully. He shuddered, remembering that morning, the pit of despair he'd sunk into when Ginny had left him. "Like you'd gone so deep that you couldn't ever get back out again."

"Yes." Ginny sounded mildly surprised, but Draco didn't look up, didn't want to see her looking at him.

It was painful, remembering how he'd felt that morning, but far worse was hearing her echo his memories, hearing her describe being in the same agony, hurting the same hurt. He knew she wasn't saying it to make him guilty, she had said so, yet he could not stop feeing guilty all the same. Because he'd done that to her, and it seemed like he could never take it back.

"I was just—I was so hurt," she said. "I couldn't—" She stopped, and when she spoke again, her voice was different, sharpened. "Draco, look at me."

Gritting his teeth, Draco opened his eyes, and forced himself to meet her gaze. He didn't want to do this, talk about this. His insides felt twisted, yanked about, and there was an ache in his chest not quite like any pain he'd felt before. Looking at her made it worse. There was something very calm about her, yet there were tears in her eyes, tears, evidently, she could no longer hold back.

"I'm just telling you this so you understand," she said desperately.

"Understand what?" Draco demanded. His voice wavered, no matter how he tried to control it. "That I broke you? That I hurt you? Don't you think I know—"

"No, don't you understand, it's me." A tear spilled over onto her cheek, but she leaned forward, sitting up on her heels. "You did what you did, but that was so long ago, it's been so long, and I should be past it, I shouldn't be feeling like this anymore." She gulped in air. "But I do. I don't know how to stop it. And that's why…" She let out a long, slow breath, and it seemed to calm her. "That's why I said what I said, the other day, when you—when you asked me to marry you." She swallowed. "That's why I…panicked."

The reminder of what had happened between them, just last week, stung Draco, but he brushed that aside easily in face of Ginny, in the face of how she was hurting, and how desperately she wanted to stop. Before he knew what he was doing, he, too had leaned forward, and reached a hand out to her. "Ginny—"

She flinched away from him, and looked like she regretted it the moment she did. "I'm sorry," she muttered, sounding wretched. "I'm sorry, I can't—"

Draco looked at her. She could not have looked more miserable, more sad. "I…used to help you," he said haltingly. "Make you feel better. You said so, once."

"I know."

"But you're afraid I'll hurt you again," he said quietly.

"I…know you won't," she said doubtfully.

"Obviously, you don't," he said, an edge to his voice.

"You did say," she said, rubbing her red eyes with her hands, "you did say there was something you're not telling me, something you found out at the Riddle House, and you said you couldn't tell me—"

"Yeah, and I told you it wouldn't put you or Will or anyone in danger, Weasley." He glared at her, but not so much with hostility as with an intensity to make her understand, to accept this. "And I'll say so again, I swear it."

"But you still won't tell me what it is," she said accusingly.

"I can't!" Frustrated, he ranked a hand through his hair. "It's not my secret to tell, all right? None of them are," he muttered.

"Right." She shook her head. "So there's more than one thing you're not telling me."

"Look, none of that matters if you trust me, Ginny! That's what this comes down to, isn't it?" Draco looked at her, hearing the accusatory note in his own voice. "You don't trust me," he said, and though he didn't phrase it as a question, he stared at her, waiting for her to deny it, to assure him that she did trust him.

But she only stared back at him. He could see the vulnerability leaving her eyes, her face going impassive, closed to him. Frustrated beyond measure, pushed past what he could take, Draco shook his head, feeling utterly defeated.

"If that's so," he said, "then there's nothing more to do be done about it." And, although they were in his own room, he crossed to the door and left, leaving her sitting there, in his bed.