Author's Notes: I'm back! You probably shouldn't take my word for it, because I'm dreadful about updating, but I fully intend to finish the rest of this fic in the next month or so. There are about six chapters after this one, and I want to get it finished. Hopefully life won't intervene!
Chapter Five
As they crossed the Atrium for the second time that day, this time heading towards the fireplaces, Draco found himself torn between glee and anxiety. He wanted to give in to the glee and skip all the way out of the Ministry—well, not literally skip, a Malfoy would never be seen skipping—but then the anxiety would butt in, and he would remember that everyone, everyonewould eventually find out about this. The thought of lording his new marriage over Ginny's brothers was a good one, mostly, but then, it was also entirely possible they would actually kill him, and that put a damper on things, just a bit.
"What is it with you?" Ginny asked dryly, sending him an odd look.
Draco swallowed, smoothing out his face into a blank expression. "What?" he said innocently.
"You keep beginning to smile," she said, "like a crazy person. And then your forehead goes all wrinkly and frowny—"
"My forehead does not wrinkle—"
"It does," Davis piped in.
Draco scowled at her. "It's just," he said, directing his gaze at Ginny, "that, now that we're actually married, I keep thinking about telling people, and—"
"Don't even think about that right now," Ginny said quickly. She shot a furtive glance behind her and sped up a little, probably without even realizing it. "Let's just focus on the positive. Like the house." She smiled, and it lit up her whole face. "Do we have it now?"
"Probably," Draco said negligently. "I'll need to check with my solicitor. If you like, we can swing up to my office and I can Floo him from—"
"No," Ginny cut in. "Let's just get out of here, before someone else sees us. We have to pick up Will, anyway. You can Floo him from Pansy's."
When they reached Pansy's, however, thoughts of the townhouse were momentarily diverted by a small commotion that greeted them in Pansy's sitting room. As the four of them walked into the room, there was a small burst of sparks, and then something light and colorful rained down over them as they stood in the doorway, stunned. After a moment, Draco realized it was confetti.
"What the hell?" Draco asked, looking around.
Pansy had laid out several platters of food across a long table—fruit, vegetables with dip, cheese and crackers, little sausages, and, of course, champagne. Pansy herself stood with Will beside the table, holding a fluted glass. She was dressed in a simple red dress that brought out the severity of her dark hair and eyes. "Congrats!" Pansy said, smiling wickedly at them. "I suppose congratulations arein order? Nothing went wrong?"
"No," Ginny said. Draco glanced over at her and saw that she was smiling a little. She seemed much more relaxed, now that they were out of the Ministry, which, in turn, made Draco relax. There'd been a small part of him that had wondered whether she was really just nervous at the thought of being seen, or if it hadn't been more. But she seemed fine now. "Everything went smashing," she said wryly.
"Oh, good." Pansy frowned and stuck a finger out at Davis, who stood off a little with Pucey. Both of them were looking rather smug. "But what are you doing here?" Pansy demanded. "You didn't go with them? They didn't go with you?" She rounded on Ginny and Draco.
"They did," Ginny confirmed, unabashed.
Davis opened her turquoise eyes wide. "Didn't Malfoy tell you? We were the wedding party."
"Party!" Will squealed, momentarily drawing everyone's attention. Pansy had put a ridiculous little party hat on him, which he was now trying to take off, in spite of his cheerful demeanor. "Yay!"
Draco snorted a laugh and crossed the room to his son, while Davis and Pansy continued to snipe at each other, Davis gloating about being present at the marriage, and Pansy griping about being relegated to the job of babysitter.
Draco picked Will up and led him over to the sofa, where he sat beside him. Taking the ridiculous hat off of him, he said, "Did you help Pansy put this party together?"
"Party," Will echoed. "Is it birthday?"
Draco smiled. "No. Your birthday and mybirthday are in a few months. At the beginning of the summer."
"And Mama?"
"Her birthday is at the end of the summer. It's not as important as our birthdays, though."
"I heard that," Ginny said, shooting him a narrow look. A moment later, however, she was drawn into conversation with Davis and Pansy, so she didn't have time to argue.
"So," Draco said, as Pucey wandered over, "do you know why we're having a party then?"
Will looked at him with wide eyes, waiting for more.
"Because," Draco said very seriously, "your mum and me got married."
"Married?" Will echoed, trying out the unfamiliar word.
"Yep. Married." Draco held up his hand, showing Will the gold band encircling his finger. "See?"
Will made a grab for Draco's hand, grinning at the ring. "Mine."
"No, it's mine," Draco corrected him.
"Mine."
"Mine."
"Mine," Will insisted.
"Anyway," Draco said, moving his hand out of his son's reach, "getting married is when two people promise to put up with each other forever so they can share each other's money and possessions and things."
Pucey came forward then, folding his arms over his chest. "There are other reasons people get married," he said, directing this comment at Will. Then his eyes slid up to Draco's face. "Of course, your dad has never been like other people."
"Why should I be?" Draco quipped.
Something like a grin ghosted over Pucey's face, there and gone before it could really be seen. He perched on the arm of a chair across from Draco. "So," he said. His expression was serious, although there was an amused glimmer in his eyes. "You actually did it. Married a Weasley."
"Yes." Draco's gaze wandered across the room towards Ginny. The three women had congregated by a fruit platter and were talking in hushed voices. "I suppose I did." It was a weird thought, really. He'd been so focused on the idea, in the past few weeks, that he'd gotten used to it. But hearing it said aloud, well, it was strange.
He tried to cast his mind back, and not only his mind, but his whole self. He tried to remember how he had thought and felt, back in fifth year at Hogwarts, before his father had gone to prison and everything had started to go wrong. Then he tried to mix the thought of being married to Ginny with that part of him, that old self. It couldn't work. They didn't mix, and anyway, Draco could hardly recall that old self. It wasn't that he didn't remember fifth year, he did. But it was hard to really recall the feelings he'd had back then, the way he had felt about the world. He remembered it. But he couldn't actually summon the feelings.
"Does it ever seem to you," Draco said slowly, "that the world has turned upside down?"
"Certainly it seems that way," Pucey agreed. "Sometimes."
"Everything used to be easier, didn't it," Draco mused. "Simpler."
Pucey shrugged. "Maybe. But I don't know that that has anything to do with how things are now, specifically. I mean," he went on, when Draco shot him a puzzled look, "that we were kids back then. When things were simpler. And maybe that's why things were simpler. Because we were kids."
"I suppose." Draco shifted. "But then, things always seemed…simple, too, for my parents. For my father, certainly." He shot Pucey a knowing look. "For your parents too, probably."
Pucey eyed him back, with just as knowing a gleam in his eye. "I don't think we're talking about things the same way here."
"What do you mean?"
"We are talking," Pucey said bluntly, "about the fact that you married a blood traitor and I'm dating a half-blood? And we don't care, neither of us?"
Draco was slightly taken aback by Pucey's directness. "Well," he said dubiously. "…I guess we are."
Pucey shrugged again. "So, I think things are simpler now. Now that we don'tcare. It was sort of exhausting, wasn't it, going on about Mudbloods and purebloods all the time? Keeping track of who you could like and who you couldn't? Because if you forgot, even for a minute, you'd be shunned, too?"
Draco frowned. He couldn't really ever remember feeling that way, like it was hard. But then, it really had come naturally to him, feeling that way. It hadn't ever been a pretense, some appearance he had to keep up. Except…
Except for Ginny. Because sometime in fifth year, Ginny Weasley had become extremely attractive, and it wasn't just the way she'd looked, either. It was something abouther. Her fearlessness, her cool demeanor; it was the way she could be both bold and utterly calm and composed at the same time. And although Draco had never, not seriously, thought about dating her—because she was a blood traitor—it had been, well, difficult, to pretend as though she didn't interest him at all, to hide his admiration for her. It had been, as Pucey said, exhausting.
"I suppose it was," was all Draco said. "Sometimes."
Pucey shook his head. "It all seems so stupid now. When I first started having feelings for Tracey…I can still remember it. I thought I was so disgusted with myself at first. But then, after a while, I realized it wasn't that I was disgusted, it was that I was afraid. I was afraid of what people would say or think, how people would react, if I actually dated her. Which was stupid." He shook his head. "Because this was when I was in hiding. There wasno one to see or to care. And by then, I had done far worse to make any of those people care—I had betrayed the Death Eaters, for Merlin's sake."
Draco felt an odd chill, hearing so many of his own feelings echoed. He did still care, though. A little. Because, even after everything, his father was still in his head. Draco still cared what Lucius said, what he thought.
The party went on for some time, as Pansy's hors d'oeuvres turned into lunch, and then a late coffee and dessert. It was sometime later when Draco managed to slip out of the room for just a bit to Floo his solicitor, to confirm that the townhouse was theirs now. He came back into the room a few minutes later, smiling triumphantly.
"It's official," he announced. "The townhouse is ours."
Ginny, who was in the process of eating a little cake, dropped the pastry back onto her plate, her eyes widening in excitement. "Really? You're sure? When can we go?"
Draco smirked, pulling a set of keys out of his inner jacket pocket. "Right now."
Ginny's jaw dropped. "But when did you get the keys?"
"Don't be stupid, Weasley, I've been carrying them around for a few days now." He grinned wickedly. "Just in case, you know."
"You can't call her Weasley anymore, you know," Pansy pointed out.
"Yes, he can," Ginny disagreed. Her tone was light, but she met Draco's gaze with a challenging stare. "Because I'll always be a Weasley. Nothing will change that."
Pansy shot him a quick look, as though she expected him to react badly to this comment. But Draco's grin only widened. He knew Ginny wasn't insulting him or trying to blow off their marriage. Ginny was Ginny, and she always would be, and he knew that.
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Draco said, his tone mockingly flattering. Ginny rolled her eyes at him, but didn't seem able to contain a smile either.
"Oh, look at you two." Davis snorted in disgust. "You only have to ask, you know?"
Draco frowned at her. "What are you on about?"
Davis widened her eyes innocently. "Pucey and I can take Will back to Grimmauld Place and start getting his things packed up. If, you know, you and Ginny wanted to sneak over to the townhouse, and, er, look it over—"
Draco was too pleased by this prospect to even spare Davis a scowl.
And so, leaving Will in the safe care of Davis and Pucey, Draco and Ginny left Pansy's a little while later. They Apparated to a safe place a few blocks down from the townhouse and walked the rest of the way. It wasn't quite evening yet, but the sun wasn't so high in the sky anymore, and the air was cool.
The townhouse looked just as Draco remembered it, from the last time they'd been there, more than a year ago now. They hurried up the front steps and Draco quickly put the key in the lock to open the door.
"We'll have to put up protection spells and jinxes right away, of course," Ginny said. "There's nothing up yet, in fact, we probably could have Apparated straight in here, there aren't any wards up yet and—ooph! Malfoy!" she yelped, for Draco had just hoisted her off her feet and slung her over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. "Put me down!" she demanded, banging an ineffectual fist on his back.
"Now, now, Ginny," Draco said, knowing she couldn't see his mischievous smirk, "we can't break tradition, can we?" Pushing the door wide open with his free hand, he stepped over the threshold and into the house.
"Oh, yes, because this is just so traditional," Ginny said sarcastically, "tossing me over your shoulder—put me down!"
Still smirking, Draco carefully set her on her feet. He took a moment to look at her, her cheeks flushed and her skirt a little uneven, before reaching back to shut the door. "Well, we're not exactly a conventional married couple, are we?" he said innocently.
Ginny tugged her skirt down and shot him a slightly exasperated glance, but she couldn't keep a smile off her face a moment later, as she turned and looked around the entrance hall. It was slightly dark inside. Daylight shone in through windows on either side of the door, but it was fading daylight; the front of the house faced the east. Draco lit a lamp hanging off the wall with his wand, which cast a dim glow over the hall.
"Wow," Ginny said softly, looking pleased, "this is it. Our home."
"Too right," Draco murmured. "Much better than the last one. We should've got married ages ago. Right at the start, like your mum said."
"I don't think she was really serious about it at that point," Ginny said dryly. "And let's not mention my mum, shall we? I'm still putting off thinking about her, or any of my family, right now."
"Yeah, but I said, didn't I?" Draco reminded her. "Your mum and I already talked about it. She, at least, shouldn't be too upset we got married."
"She'll be upset we did it like this," Ginny said absently, still looking around. She peered down the corridor leading back into the house, her eyes bright with interest. "She'll have wanted a real wedding. But then, even she should understand why that wouldn't have been a good idea. For us."
"We could always do one later." Draco shrugged. "If she really wants. Once your family is more used to the idea, I mean."
"Yeah, sure," Ginny said, her tone sarcastic. "Like, maybe ten years from now. At least."
Draco stared at her silently, as her eyes continued to travel around the house. Strange as it was, considering, he had not really thought much about what being married to Ginny meant, for his future. He had not thought much about what it would be like to be with her for years, decades, the rest of his life. It suddenly seemed an enormous prospect, one that was just now hitting home for him.
A sliver of panic wormed through him, but he wasn't quite sure why. It wasn't the commitment; it wasn't that the idea of being with Ginny forever was unappealing, exactly. It just seemed…unreal. Of course, even if they hadn't gotten married, they likely would have continued to be together, for Will. And then what? It wasn't as though, once Will turned eleven and went off to Hogwarts, Draco would have told Ginny he didn't need her anymore and she could pack up and leave. They had been through too much for that.
But in spite of all that, he couldn't quite see it. Imagine it. What wouldlife be like, once Will had gone to Hogwarts? Draco and Ginny would be alone, together, for most of the year, without Will there to tie them together. The thought was a little frightening, for some reason. He couldn't really say why.
Then he realized, as he watched Ginny, the gleam in her eyes, the brightness of her hair, the freckles spread across her face. Her lips, touched with a small smile, absently, as though she didn't even realize she was smiling.
He loved her.
The thought was startling. Something of it must have shown on his face, because when Ginny finally looked around and settled her gaze on him, she frowned. "What?" she asked.
Draco blinked. "What?"
"You look…weird." She ran a hand over her hair, a little subconsciously. "Do I have something on my face?"
"No." Draco coughed, doing his best to wipe his expression clean of whatever lingered there.
But Ginny tilted her head at him, still frowning. "Are you…okay?"
He shrugged uncomfortably. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Ginny pursed her lips, looking at him. Draco swallowed, wondering what was going through her head.
"It's just…" she started to say, but then she paused, hesitating. "Look, I know we talked about—about how I felt, doing this. Getting married. We talked pretty extensively about how I felt," she said wryly. She bit her lip. "But, are you—I mean—"
"Ginny." Draco made a small sound of amusement. "I was on this idea from the start. Even back when your mum first mentioned it, right after we'd been kicked out of the manor. The only reason I didn't pursue it then was because I didn't actually think it would work, remember?"
"Well…yes. I know." For a moment, she still looked at him. Her expression was almost puzzled. But then she shook her head. "Right. I know." All traces of uncertainty gone from her face, she smiled, a familiar, mischievous glow in her eyes. "So," she said. Slowly, as though not even realizing it, she moved towards him, drifting in close. "I'm thinking we should look over the master bedroom again. I know we…saw it…last time, but—" She put up some pretense of thinking very hard "—I don't really remember it very well, do you?"
"Don't remember?" Draco objected. "As though that was anything less than an unforgettable experience!"
Ginny stopped, now inches away from him. She looked him right in the eye and tilted her face upwards a little. "Remind me, then." Another woman might have spoken softly, breathlessly, obvious and therefore unappealing. But Ginny's words were bold and simple. The mischievous gleam in her eye was a challenge, one that Draco was both eager and apprehensive to take.
But take it he did, when she wrapped her arms around his waist and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him. Draco crushed his lips against hers; they came together like waves breaking against the sand, powerful, passionate. Draco had kissed Ginny many, many times before; he had lost count of how many times he had kissed her. It had become that natural. But this time, now, as he kissed her, he was aware of a deep ache in his chest, a rushing, roaring that was as exhilarating as it was painful. It wasn't anything he had ever felt before, a terrifying feeling, yet one that only intensified his desire for her. He didn't really think about it—there wasn't room in Draco's head for thoughts right now—but if he had, he might have realized what it meant.
He loved her.
They left behind Ginny's little jacket and Draco's robe in the entrance hall before stumbling towards the staircase. Draco wasn't really sure how they made it upstairs; all he knew was that it took them a very, very long time, especially given that the master bedroom was on the third floor and at the opposite end of the corridor. They first passed through the master suite's sitting room to get into the bedroom. Two windows faced the front street, but the shades were drawn, and the room was dark.
There was a bed – a bed that Draco remembered from the last time they had visited, though being dark as it was, he could barely see it, and backed into it without realizing it. He let himself fall back, bringing Ginny down over him as he went. Her fiery hair fell around his face in waves, burning brightly in the dark room, and he tangled a hand in it as her lips trailed down his neck, across his collarbone. He was vaguely aware of her undoing the buttons of his shirt, exposing more of his skin for her to explore. Her lips left an imprint upon every part of him, searing through him, as though she could reach through his body and into his soul.
Once again Draco was aware of that rushing, terrifying feeling in his chest, and for a moment, it almost gave him pause. But he didn't want to think about it, didn't want to examine it, not then, not now. Pushing all thought aside—it wasn't that difficult, really—he seized Ginny by the waist and rolled them over, pinning her under him. His shirt was fully undone now, and only hanging on to him by one sleeve, which he yanked off and tossed aside. Ginny wrapped a hand around the back of his neck, her fingernails softly scraping the hair at the base of his skull. A rush of pleasure flooded him, a growl escaping his lips as they melded against hers. Her other hand was hot against his bare back, pressing into his skin, as though trying to bring him closer, feel every part of him against her.
One of Draco's hands left her waist, drifted down, and caressed her knee. He slid his hand up, over the inner part of her thigh, his touch feather-light against her skin, deliberately teasing, withholding. Her skirt was impossibly tight, which might have been nice in other circumstances, but was only a hindrance now. But that was easily dealt with; Ginny, ever obliging, lifted her hips and guided his hand back to the skirt's zipper. In a few short seconds, the skirt was gone, discarded as easily as his shirt.
His fingers still drifting up her leg, across her hip, Draco pressed a kiss against her bare shoulder. There was something so precious about her skin, fair like ivory but dusted with those freckles. An oddly possessive feeling surged through Draco. It wasn't unfamiliar, but it should have brought with it a sense of dominance, a need to assert himself in a forceful, if passionate, way. Instead, the next kiss he pressed against her shoulder was lighter, gentler. As brave, as strong, as daring as Ginny was, she seemed suddenly delicate to him, tenuous. And even though he had banished all thought, an image of her rose in his mind, unbidden. Ginny, in his room at Grimmauld Place, kneeling on his bed, when they'd first tried to work things out and failed. Her expression calm, except for her eyes, dark and flooded with pain, raw with vulnerability. Ginny, flinching away from him when he'd tried to comfort her.
She wasn't flinching now, though her body shuddered beneath his fingertips, every touch awakening her more to him. But nevertheless, the image was there, in his head, the memory of how she'd looked then, so hurt and so afraid. And the feeling surged through Draco again, not possessive but protective. And the next kiss he pressed into her collarbone was even softer, more tender, and the hand he placed flat against her hip was wary, tentative even.
Ginny didn't pause or say anything, but, as though sensing his hesitancy—perhaps subconsciously—her own movements grew bolder, more assertive. She reached for the waist of his trousers and fumbled with them; in a few short minutes, she had them off him. He'd pulled back momentarily, to kick off the rest of his clothing, and when he returned she grasped him firmly by the arms and pulled him, down and around. They rolled again until Draco lay flat on his back, Ginny leaning over him. She still wore her camisole, though it was unbuttoned and hung open in the front, barely clinging on to her shoulders. Draco slipped it off as she brought her lips down upon his, kissing him deeply, fiercely. Draco kissed her back like he had never kissed her before. The ache in his chest was still there, stronger than ever, threatening to burst through him with its intensity, though he had all but forgotten it. A small puff of air escaped Ginny's lips, a tiny gasp, and she pulled back from him, her hands going still against him. He could hear her breath hitching in her throat as he opened his eyes, confused. She was still close, not quite sitting upright, but there was a troubled look in her eyes as she stared down at him.
"What?" Draco demanded, the word barely leaving his lips, as he was out of breath. Apprehension flickered through him, but she did not look afraid, or hurt, only a little…unsure. Concerned, even. "What is it?"
She opened her mouth, but didn't say anything at first. "I—" She broke off, and something like frustration flickered over her face. "Draco…I—" She swallowed.
"What?" he repeated. He reached up, running his thumb over her cheek, and her eyes fell shut, a small shiver running through her body. "What's wrong?"
There was a moment's pause, a moment that lasted like an eternity to Draco, as he wondered if she was going to pull back, to stop, for whatever it was that was bothering her. But then she opened her eyes and looked at him, and said, "Nothing." A ghost of a smile crossed her face. "Nothing."
Her knee dug into the side of his hip, her bare skin burning against his, like electricity running through their entwined bodies. And as Draco drew her down against him, a ridiculous feeling, like happiness, swept through him, warring with the ache roaring inside of him, the fear, the pain that loving Ginny Weasley brought him.
Hours later, Ginny lay awake next to a sleeping Malfoy, in the bed in the master suite. It was likely only just reaching the first hours of the night, or the late evening, really, but Ginny had not had much sleep last night, and she didn't think Draco had either, so the both of them had drifted off to sleep some time ago. But she was awake now, Draco's warm body pressed against hers, and a million thoughts running through her head.
She had nearly said it. Nearly.
Tracey's words echoed in her head, over and over. It's just, well…I never really thought you to be the sort of person who's okay with—well, marrying someone you don't love.
And though Ginny had never really thought about it—though it hadn't really crossed her mind, not once, since she'd made things up with Draco and asked him to marry her—internally, her automatic response was, Well, don't I love him?
A shiver ran through her at the thought. Ginny scrunched down further in the bed, instinctively shifting closer to Draco, her source of warmth. After all this time—after all they had been through—the idea shouldn't have seemed so foreign, so absurd. She'd been living with Draco for years now, though admittedly, when she'd first moved in, she hadn't considered him a friend, or even someone that she liked at all. But time had changed that, their close contact had changed that. He wasa friend now, and someone that she cared about, someone she needed, someone…
Someone she loved?
She couldn't fathom it. She'd tried to say it, earlier, as she'd lain over him and looked into his eyes, but she couldn't get it out. She still couldn't seem to make it real to her. Now, turning her head slightly, she looked at him, and tried to imagine saying it aloud.
"Draco?" she whispered.
There was no response. He didn't even twitch in his sleep. Moving carefully, Ginny eased herself up onto an elbow, her face inches from his. "Malfoy," she said, her voice pitched low. "Are you awake?"
Still no response. His eyes remained shut, his breathing slow and even. Screwing up her eyes a little, as though anticipating something awful, she opened her mouth and said, very quietly, "I…love—" She blew out a breath, flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes. He couldn't even hear her, she might have been alone, for all it mattered, and she still struggled to get the words out.
She no longer had reservations about him; it wasn't that she was afraid to trust him anymore. It just felt…weird. Before she could really think about it, she said, very quickly, in a single breath, "Draco, I love…" She flinched "…you."
He slept on, totally unaware of her words or her struggle. Ginny rolled her eyes at herself, still staring down at Draco. She opened and shut her mouth a few times, she mouthed the words I love youover and over. She tried to imagine actually saying it to him when he was awake, and looking at her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a screeching sound emitting itself from Draco's wand, accompanied by a blue, blinking light. Draco's eyes flew open and he sat up immediately, his head connecting with Ginny's chin. Both of them swore loudly, Ginny's eyes watering with pain.
"Bloody hell, were you watching me sleep?" Draco snapped.
"Never mind, what isthat?" Blinking, Ginny pointed at his wand.
Draco snatched it up immediately, and both the light and the sound shut off. "I cast a quick ward on the door when we came in," he said in a hushed voice. He hurried out of the bed and grabbed his trousers. "In case anyone tried to get in. There aren't any other hexes or jinxes up yet."
"You someone's here?" Ginny demanded. She slid out of bed, tripping out of the sheets wrapped around her waist. She snatched her skirt up off the floor and quickly pulled it on and zipped it up. She swiftly scanned the room, but didn't see her camisole anywhere; instead, she grabbed Draco's shirt and hastily pulled it on, haphazardly doing up some of the buttons. Draco was done before she was; as soon as he'd pulled his trousers on, he'd dashed out of the room, his wand in hand, bare-chested.
"Malfoy, wait!" Ginny hissed after him, fumbling with a button. She cast around for her wand and found it on the floor beside the bed. She picked it up and hurried out after Draco.
They were on the third floor; she'd nearly forgotten. Ginny hardly remembered coming up the stairs to begin with. She emerged out into the corridor and paused, listening intently, even as she watched Draco's blond head disappearing down the stairs. But she couldn't hear anything up here except for Draco's footsteps, so, cursing, she ran after him.
She stubbed a toe on a step and bit back a yelp. It was dark outside now, and there was nothing lit in the townhouse; she could barely see anything. "Lumos!" she whispered, her wand tip alighting.
By the time she had reached the second floor, which opened out into a huge lounge, Draco had clearly already disappeared down into the entrance hall. As she rounded the landing, she heard a distinctive click, and then the sound of the front door opening. Hurrying across to the main stairwell, she glanced out over the railing, down into the entrance hall, just in time to see two shadowy figures step inside. Instantly, Ginny ducked down; she was an easy target, just above the hall. Crouching low, she inched along the floor towards the top of the stairwell, trying to peer around to see how far Draco had got—
Then, several things happened at once.
A light flew on somewhere down in the entrance hall. Ginny caught a quick glance of Draco, at the bottom of the stairwell, as someone let out a furious roar and shouted, "Malfoy!" A jet of light exploded in the air, aimed at the base of the stairwell, where Draco stood.
Ginny gasped and looked around, through the banister railing, just in time to see Draco dodge a hex, yelping as it barely missed him. Ginny looked towards the door furiously and finally identified the intruders—none other than Fred and George, both with their wands raised, looking daggers.
"Oi!" Indignant, Ginny leapt to her feet. "Stop!"
Neither twin took heed of this. Fred glanced up at her with a fierce scowl; the sight of her there only seemed to increase his anger. George didn't even look at her, so intent was he upon Draco. He shot another curse Draco's way. Draco had dived beneath the second floor banister, so Ginny couldn't see him, but he must've shot a curse back at George because two jets of light met midway in the air, ricocheting off each other. One hit the wall beside the front door, knocking a chunk of the plaster out.
Appalled, Ginny rounded the stairwell and came thundering down to the entrance hall. "Not in my bloody house!" she muttered angrily. As she reached the bottom, George, forgetting his wand altogether, threw himself forward at Draco. Fred raised his wand at them, squinting, looking as though he were trying to get a curse in without hitting George. Ginny took advantage of his hesitation and aimed her wand at him. "Petrificus Totalus!"
Fred barely had time to register a look of outraged shock at her before he froze up like a board and toppled over. Ginny didn't feel the least bit sorry for him as he crashed to the ground. George, who had just gotten a hold of Draco and was attempting to wrestle him to the ground, looked around at the sound. Furious, Ginny raised her wand again and tried to disarm him, but George leapt back, out of the way. Free of her brother's clutches, Draco sped past her, just as George shot another curse off at him.
"George, stop!" Ginny hollered. "Draco, go—just go! Get out!"
Draco, apparently, didn't need to be told twice. Darting past the frozen, fallen Fred, he practically threw himself out the front door, narrowly dodging another curse from George. A moment later, Ginny heard a pop!as he Disapparated.
Ginny whirled around for, just as she suspected, George made as though to chase after Draco, even though he had no way of following him once he'd Apparated. Taking him by surprise, Ginny leveled her wand at him and shouted, "Impedimenta!"
George staggered back as the jinx hit him. Bowled over, he yelled, "Oi! I'm your brother!"
"And you're in myhouse!" Ginny raged. George managed to pick himself back up, scowling. Ginny leveled her wand at him threateningly. "How dare you break in here and start attacking us!"
"Yourhouse, is it?' George said, breathing heavily. "And we weren't attacking you!"
"I don't care, even so—"
"Take the curse off Fred!" George demanded, wildly leveling a finger at his fallen brother.
"Only if you two promise to stay put and leave off Malfoy!"
"Don't have much choice now, do we?" George growled. "Git scarpered."
Ginny said nothing. She only glared at George, tapping her foot impatiently.
"All right, all right, we promise." George raked a hand through his disheveled hair. "For now," he muttered.
Promptly, Ginny turned and removed the Body-Bind off of Fred, who leapt to his feet as soon as he could move. He was scowling fiercely, glaring out the door as though he could still see Draco. Ginny shut the door firmly; any Muggle walking past outside could've seen anything.
"Now," Ginny said, turning to face the both of them. "What, in the name of Merlin, are you doing here?"
"What are youdoing here, Ginny?" George demanded quietly.
Ginny repressed the urge to roll her eyes. They had made her feel guilty, feel badly for her decisions before; she wasn't going to allow it this time. "I live here," she said impatiently.
"And how did that happen?" Fred quipped. His cheeks were red, either from anger or exertion or both. "Only, we thought Malfoy couldn't get this house unless he…" Fred swallowed, looking as though he were about to choke "…married…someone."
"He did marry someone," Ginny said belligerently. She hadn't intended this. She had wanted to be gentle with her family, break it to them carefully, nicely. But as far as she was concerned, the twins' behavior negated any of that. "Me."
Fred shut his eyes, looking as though he was about to be sick. George shook his head, his jaw set in an ugly expression. "We thought as much."
"How, exactly, did you think that?" Ginny demanded in exasperation. "How did you know we were here?"
With his eyes still shut, Fred said, "Could you please put some clothes on before we have this conversation?"
Ginny glanced down at her mismatched clothing and folded her arms across her chest, which was clad in Malfoy's wrinkled blue button-down. "I am wearing clothes," she snapped. "And I'm perfectly comfortable the way I am. Now, are you going to answer my question, or am I going to have to—"
"We didn't know you were here," George grunted. "Not for sure, anyway. We guessed."
"We ran into Blake Summers," Fred said, finally opening his eyes, "who'd had a nice little chat with Ernie Macmillan—"
"—whom you, apparently, ran into at the Ministry today." George glared. "Funny. What were you doing at the Ministry, Gin?"
Ginny stared stonily back at him, refusing to allow this to turn into an interrogation. They were answering herquestions, not the other way around.
"Anyway," Fred said quickly; now that he was calming down, he seemed a little wary of the expression on Ginny's face, "Ernie had said he saw you there with Malfoy, and that Malfoy said you were seeing somebody about acquiring the townhouse. Thistownhouse."
"And we knew," George said evenly, "that, supposedly, the only way you could get your hands on this house was to get married—"
"We might've found a way around that," Ginny said crossly.
"Well, obviously, you didn't," George said sarcastically. "As you've just admitted you married him!"
"My point was, you didn't just have to assume I'd married him!" Ginny burst out. "And come barging in here! And even though I have married him, that doesn't give you any right to break in here and start attacking—"
"—your husband," Fred finished unhelpfully.
Willing herself not to hex the both of them, Ginny inhaled deeply through her nose, trying to calm herself. "Look, you two," she said, "the time is long past that I will apologize to either of you for what I decide to do with mylife. I've married Draco, and there's nothing either of you can do about it."
"But why, Ginny?' George said quietly. "How could you?"
Ginny looked at him. "I'm honestly not sure why you're so surprised."
"Well, all right, you've been living with Malfoy for a while now," Fred said, "and if you two seemed—er—chummy—well, we didn't like that, but it was what it was, and, who knows, maybe one day you might've—"
"—had done with him," George said flatly.
"I mean, I always thought—" Fred shrugged uncomfortably. "I mean, Harry—"
"Harry?" Ginny said incredulously. She choked back a laugh. "Harry? You didn't really think I was going to marry him one day, did you? I dated him for a few weeks in fifth year—"
"Yeah, but you were in love with him a lot longer than that," George pointed out.
"Maybe I was," Ginny said, unabashed, "but Harry's been gone for years, George, for eight years! Was I just supposed to wait around for him all this time? I hope he comes back one day, I really do, but I can't just put my life on hold until then."
"But to marry Malfoy—"
"I have a family now," Ginny said quietly. "You know that, both of you. Even if you don't accept Draco as my family, I'd have thought by now you accepted Will as. You can't think that by now, after all I've gone through for him, that I would ever just leave him. Let him go."
She met George's eyes. He was a parent too, he should understand. "He's my son," she said resolutely. "Nothing will ever change that."
"Fine," George said angrily, "but plenty of people are parents to a kid without being married!"
"But Draco's my family too, don't you hear what I'm saying?' Ginny shot back. "I have no plans to leave him either."
"Not ever?" Fred said incredulously.
Ginny shrugged. "I can't see into the future. Anything could happen. But no, I don't have plansto leave him, ever."
For a moment, the twins stared at her in silence, Fred looking a bit shocked, George angry. Then George stood, leveling his gaze at her.
"So you care about him," he said. It wasn't a question, but he stared at her, waiting for confirmation.
For her part, Ginny only looked at him in mild exasperation and said dryly, "Yes. I care about him. I would've thought I'd made that clear by now."
"Fine. Do you love him?" George said, speaking the words like a challenge. "Because I can't believe you would've married him, Ginny. If you don't love him."
Ginny bit her tongue on an instant retort, realizing she wasn't sure how to answer that question, or at least, realizing she didn't want to. Remembering the dilemma she'd been having just before the twins arrived, she stifled the ridiculous urge to laugh. "I married him for a number of reasons," she finally said, "which are complicated, and various, and none of your business."
Ginny was determined to break the news to the rest of her family—namely, her parents—the way she'd meant to, calmly and gently, so she made the twins swear to keep their mouths shut to everyone. Unfortunately, she didn't know how sure she could be about this, as they hadn't exactly left the townhouse in a very agreeable manner. So, glumly, Ginny had resolved to tell her parents about it as soon as she could, before the twins could go blabbing off the way Ernie had. Granted, Ernie had not realized that she and Draco were getting married, nor had he any reason to think to keep quiet about it, but Ginny found herself disgruntled with him anyway.
So the next day, while Draco saw to getting their things moved in and the house protected with every jinx and hex they knew, Ginny went to the Burrow, in the evening, to see her parents. When she arrived at the Burrow, she was relieved to see that her father was already home from work, and even more relieved to see that her parents were alone.
Though she hadn't let them know ahead of time that she was coming, her mother was very happy to see Ginny and immediately insisted that she sit for dinner. Ginny eased herself into a chair uncertainly, with her father, while her mother bustled around the kitchen.
"So, Ginny," her father said pleasantly, "how are you? How is Draco?"
Immediately put on her guard, Ginny looked at him sharply. Her father never asked after Draco; for that matter, he didn't usually ask after Will even. "Why?" Ginny demanded. "Have you talked to Fred and George?"
Her father looked taken aback. He raised an eyebrow. "No. Not in a few days, I haven't."
"Why, Ginny? Are the twins all right?" her mother asked, looking slightly worried.
"Erm—yes. Yes, they're just fine." Ginny cleared her throat, hoping she wasn't blushing. "Yes, they're fine, I saw them just—yesterday."
But her father was looking at her with an entirely too knowing expression now. "Ginny," Arthur said, his tone delicate, "did the twins have some sort of altercation with Draco?'
Ginny hesitated. "Well—"
"Oh, no." Molly turned from the stove with a disapproving expression. "What have they done now?"
"Nothing," Ginny said hastily. "Nothing out of the ordinary, anyway."
Both of her parents looked skeptical at this. Ginny sighed. "It's just, they came to—er—visit, and, well, you know how they are. They don't like Draco, he doesn't like them. Really, nothing happened," she insisted. A second later, she wondered why she was going through so much trouble to convince her parents that everything was fine when, really, she was coming to tell them she'd married Draco.
"Anyway," Ginny went on, wishing she'd never mentioned Fred and George to begin with, "to answer your question, Draco is, er—fine." She shot a look at her dad, still finding it odd that he'd asked to begin with.
"And Will?" her mother asked, momentarily turning back to her cooking.
"Also fine. He's at home with Draco."
Her mother turned, frowning a little. "At home? At Grimmauld Place, you mean?"
Ginny drummed her fingers on the tabletop nervously. For a moment, she didn't say anything, only looking between her mother and father. "Listen," she said, hesitating a little. "The thing is, I, er…need to talk to you about something."
Her mother's frown immediately became one of concern, and her father furrowed his brow. "Is something wrong, Ginny?' Molly Weasley asked.
"Erm…no. Not wrong, no. It's just that…" Ginny took a deep breath. "The thing is, we—me and Malfoy, I mean—had been talking a lot about what we were going to do now. Where we were going to live. Neither of us fancy staying at Grimmauld Place long-term, and obviously, we can't go back to the flat, or one like it. It's not safe."
"No, it isn't," her father agreed gravely.
"Hmph." Her mother placed a hand on her hip. "I think that townhouse is the best option. It's a place well-suited for a family, it can be kept quite safe, and it's already Draco's property, so you wouldn't need to waste money on finding a place."
"Well," Ginny said slowly, "that's what we thought too, actually."
Arthur Weasley frowned. "Isn't this the place that was being kept from Draco?"
"Yes, but not by the Ministry," Ginny explained. Come to think of it, she wasn't sure how much her father knew about the situation with the townhouse. "It's his property, not his father's. The problem was, there were certain—er—stipulations that needed to be met in order for him to get it."
"Silly things," her mother said, tending to the stove. "He needs to be married, for one thing." Suddenly, her mother rounded on her, sending Ginny a sharp glance. "You said were?"
"Wh-what?' Ginny stuttered, taken aback.
"You said there were stipulations. That it wasa problem." Her mother faced her fully now, both hands on her hips, in that terrifying, all too familiar position. She eyed Ginny suspiciously. "Ginevra Weasley, what have you done?"
"Ginny." Her father sounded positively alarmed. "You're not thinking of—"
"Not thinking," Ginny cut in quickly. She swallowed, internally wincing at the momentary look of relief on her father's face. "Already thought, and—already done."
"Oh, Ginny, you didn't!" Her mother was the picture of dismay.
"Just to clarify—" Arthur Weasley had shut his eyes, looking as though he were trying to ward off a bad head cold "—we are talking about—"
"Malfoy and I got married," Ginny said, her voice rather strained.
Silence met her words. Her mother, not surprisingly, recovered first. "But Ginny! Without telling any of us? You just eloped? We should've talked about this, we should've had a wedding—"
Her father pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes still closed. "I'm not sure that would've been a good idea."
"Yes." Ginny seized on that, before her mother could go on or her father could voice his objections, which she was not looking forward to. "Yes, that's what we thought. There's just too much—erm—well, bad blood, so to speak, and we didn't want to cause any unnecessary disagreements, or—or bad feelings or a fuss, so—well—I mean, this was all just in the interests of claiming the townhouse, so…" She trailed off, unsure of what else to say.
Her father had finally opened his eyes, and was now wiping his glasses studiously, not looking at Ginny. "That's all it is?" he said mildly. "For the house?"
She thought he sounded disappointed, though Ginny would have thought that marrying someone for material gain was something he would have found preferable to her marrying Malfoy for love. And once again, as with the twins, Ginny found herself wanting to explain the whole truth—which was difficult, the whole truth of her feelings still not being quite clear to Ginny herself. Yet she hadmarried Draco, and she felt that, to give the impression that this wasn't something she considered permanent—or at least, possibly permanent—would be misleading.
But for some reason, telling the twins that she even cared about Draco was not as difficult as telling her father.
"The thing is," Ginny said evenly, not meeting her father's gaze, "that, well—I realize that this is, at the core of it, making a commitment to Draco—and to Will," she added, wanting to remind both her parents that this all stemmed from Will, really. "And I'm prepared for that. I already havedone that. And—and I'm sorry," she said desperately, because the last thing she wanted was another fight, another estrangement, as had happened at Christmas those years ago, when she had first moved in with Draco. "I'm sorry, because I don't do this to make any of you uncomfortable, or to cause you any—any anger or anything. I mean, I know you don't like Draco, either of you—"
"Hmm." Her mother pursed her lips. "I find him unexpectedly polite, most of the time. He's quite civil." She shot her husband a pointed look, as though indicating that he should agree with her, or at least acknowledge Draco's civility.
Her father sighed. Arthur Weasley looked, if anything, Ginny thought, tired. "Draco has done work for the Order," he said. "However forced into it he felt, he did it. From the little I've heard of it, he did his part and didn't back down from it."
Ginny was a little amazed to hear this praise for Draco from her father. She kept silent, afraid to interrupt this little miracle.
"People that I trust—Remus, your brother Charlie—trust Draco. Within reason," he added. Ginny nodded; even she trusted Draco within reason. She knew exactly what Draco was. She might—might—love him, but she had no illusions about him.
"I am willing," Arthur went on, "to take them at their word. From what Iknow of Draco, these past few years, he has acted, for the most part, in the best interests of his family. And that is admirable," he admitted.
But then his expression grew troubled, even dark. "However," he said, "nearly ten years ago now, Draco joined the ranks of You-Know-Who and allowed Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Death Eaters who were responsible for what happened to Bill. He attempted to kill Dumbledore, more than once. And in addition to that, he has belittled and despised this family for most of his life, for no more reason than that we do not care for purity of blood." Now, finally, her father raised his eyes and met Ginny's gaze. "And I will never forget that, Ginny. Any of it."
"Dad, nor—nor will I," Ginny said, desperately wishing to convey her own complicated feelings. "I haven't forgotten it, any of it. And I don't think Draco should be allowed to forget it, either." She swallowed. "But…we can't live in the past. We can't forever hold grudges for things long since done, things that can never be taken back. Especially…" She took a deep breath. "Especially against someone whose crimes were, in the main, committed before he was even of age."
She was worried her dad would take this as her making excuses for Draco, but Arthur looked thoughtful. "Do you believe that he has changed, Ginny?" he asked abruptly.
Ginny was surprised. "I think that people rarely change radically, in the course of their lives," she said honestly. "But I think Draco can—and has begun to—evolve from the views that were pressed in on him as a boy. And I think he very much values a world without You-Know-Who, now, rather than one with him in it."
Her father seemed to seriously consider this answer. "Yes," he said pensively, obviously thinking on her last words, "a world without You-Know-Who would seem a better alternative to a man, once he's become a father."
"It didn't for Lucius," Ginny said quietly.
"No." Arthur looked at Ginny, meeting her gaze quite calmly. "But then, Draco is not his father."
"On the whole," Ginny said to Draco, as she hung a shirt in the spacious closet, "I don't think they're too keen to have you over for family dinners or anything—"
"As if I wanted to," Draco muttered.
"But—" She shot him a warning look "—they seemed to accept us being married. Well, I think my mum is still hoping to throw some kind of party—Merlin, what a nightmare that would be—"
"And your dad?" Draco said. Ginny could tell he was trying to sound disinterested, but the set of his shoulders was tense. She shrugged.
"I don't know that he'll ever like you," she said truthfully, "but he knows that I do, and he's okay with that. I think he feels that it's probably best if the two of you avoided each other as much as possible, though."
"Good," Draco said, sounding thoroughly relieved. "I was afraid he was going to want some—some dinner or something, just us and your parents—"
"Oh, no," Ginny said grimly. "No, I think he knows that that wouldn't end well."
"Too right," Draco mumbled. "So what about everyone else? Bill and Fleur? Charlie? Your other friends?"
"I don't know." Ginny sighed. "On the one hand, telling everyone separately, privately, is easier, but it does mean going through it over and over again. Maybe we shouldjust have a party, and announce it there."
"Well, let's take a few days, anyway," Draco groused. "Like we'd intended to in the first place, before the evil duo broke in. Besides," he said, sounding almost hopeful, "in a few days' time, they might've told everyone anyway. Or do you really expect them to keep their mouths shut that long?"
Ginny didn't say so, but she couldn't help hoping that might be the case, too.
The next day, however, something happened that drove worries about her friends and family from Ginny's mind. She'd gone to the Ministry to finalize some paperwork for the townhouse, and on her way back to the lift, she'd decided to drop in and visit some of her ex-coworkers in Auror Headquarters, since she was on Level Two anyway. As soon as she'd strolled in and run into Eddie Carmichael, however, he'd opened his mouth to speak before she could even say hello.
"Ginny." Carmichael looked a little nervous. "I s'pose you heard about the breach at the manor?"
Ginny stared at him, caught unawares, her mouth half-open to greet him. She snapped her jaw shut and blinked before saying, "What? A breach at…the manor? You mean Malfoy Manor?"
Carmichael looked like he could've kicked himself. "Oh…you hadn't heard. I see. Well, erm—"
"Not so fast," Ginny said, as he made to turn and leave. "Whatbreach at Malfoy Manor? You mean someone tried to get in? What happened?"
Carmichael shrugged. "Not sure. An alarm was set off; it seemed someone had done a spell inside. We got on the scene, but the entire manor was swept and searched. There was no one there. And I don't see how anyone could've gotten in, anyway, without our people seeing them, or without them setting off more alarms."
Ginny, however, was not so sure. In fact, she was highly suspicious that someone like Lucius Malfoy knew ways into the manor that the Aurors had never dreamed of. She resolved to find out, and she knew just how to do it—when she and Draco had moved into the townhouse, they had brought Nuly and Tasher, their house-elves, back to live with them. (While they had been living in the flat, Draco had sent them to work at Hogwarts, as they didn't really have need of them in the flat, and it was so small that the house-elves would have just crowded it anyway.)
Back home, Nuly told her there was indeed a way into the manor that probably couldn't be detected by the Ministry—a tunnel, which by the sound of it, led far enough out into the woods by the manor that it probably came out past the borders the Ministry had set up. And getting in through a tunnel, after all, was not something one needed magic for.
Armed with this information, Ginny debated with herself what to do with it. She didn't relish the idea of sharing the information about the breach with Draco, because it likely would upset him. At the same time, she didn't relish the idea of keeping it from him either. She was keeping a secret from him as it was, and there was really no need not to tell him about this. Unless…
Unless Draco knew something about who might've breached the manor. As much as she tried not to think about it, there was something Malfoy was still not telling her. He'd admitted as much. What had he said? That he'd discovered something at the Riddle House…something involving his father?
Ginny caught her breath. Could he be hiding his father at the manor?
But Draco had insisted that the secret he was keeping couldn't possibly bring any harm to anyone, to Will, or to her. And if Lucius were really in such close proximity…that wouldpresent a danger, wouldn't it? He had tried to kidnap Will before, and he didn't give a damn about Ginny. Ginny knew he would kill her in a heartbeat if he thought he needed to, to get to Will.
But then, she thought doubtfully, Malfoy had always had a blind spot, where his father was concerned. Maybe Lucius had convinced him that he wouldn't try to take Will again, that he wouldn't even hurt Ginny. Ginny didn't believe it for a second, but she could see where Draco might.
If that was so…then she needed to know. And asking Draco about it wouldn't be the best way.
She very, very briefly considered contacting an Order member, merely for back-up—that would be the smart thing to do—but she dismissed the idea immediately. Even if he was hiding Lucius Malfoy, she couldn't get Draco into that kind of trouble. She couldn't betray him like that. If what she feared was true, then she would confront Draco and they would handle it privately. All that meant, then, was that she had to be on her guard.
And so, arming herself with her wand, she cast a Disillusionment Charm over herself and Apparated to Wiltshire.
It was still light outside, though storm clouds were gathering overhead, making it appear later than it really was. Ginny set about searching for the entrance to the tunnel, as Nuly had described it, and quickly located it. It was utterly dark inside the tunnel. She'd been walking for what must have been close to an hour, she thought, when the tunnel sloped upwards and she spotted a small trapdoor. Carefully, she eased it open.
She blinked several times and paused, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the darkness that met her. It was several minutes before she could see well enough to take a step up and come out into the pantry—a pantry in the kitchens, just as Nuly had told her. She eased the pantry door open slowly and stepped out. She was nervous, but she still had the Disillusionment Charm on, so she couldn't be seen, unless she moved too quickly.
She turned right and peered around the corner, into the kitchen. She was surprised to see that it was brightly lit with candles, placed along the counters and the cabinets. Her eyes traveled along the wall and, with a start, fell upon someone standing at the opposite end of the kitchen. Stepping as quietly as she could, Ginny went forward, into the kitchen. The intruder was crouched down, his back to Ginny, rummaging through one of the cabinets. Then—suddenly—he stood and turned, and Ginny saw him head-on.
It was…Blaise.
Ginny couldn't help it—she gasped, and stumbled back, right into a stool sitting along the back wall. She knocked into it so violently that it toppled over to the floor with a loud clatter.
Blaise's eyes snapped towards the stool, his entire body going still and tense. He held a bottle of wine in his hand—from the cabinet—and he suddenly brandished it like a weapon. "Who's there?" he said sharply.
Ginny heard the words, but didn't comprehend them. She could do nothing but stand there and stare at him. This was…impossible—someone was using Polyjuice Potion, to make themselves look like Blaise, because Blaise was dead…but no, that couldn't be right, if he was dead, then they wouldn't have any piece of him to use in Polyjuice Potion…he was dead, he'd beendead for eight years—
Except that he wasn't. Because he was standing right there, in front of her. Blaise, just as he always had been, except older, little differences, here and there…his hair a little bit longer, a little disheveled, and he was somehow both thinner and more filled out…no longer a scrawny teenager, but not as well-fed, not as cared for…
And something frightening in his eyes. A darkness. Not spite or disinterest, nothing so simple as that. Something that ran deeper. A haunted, hollow look.
"Who's there?" he repeated, his voice hard. "I know you're there. Show yourself!"
She didn't want to. A part of her desperately didn't want to, didn't want to talk to him, to see his reaction when he saw her, to make it real. But she was so stunned that she couldn't think, and there was something easy about following a simple order. So, mechanically, she raised her wand and tapped it upon her head. A cold feeling ran over her, from the tips of her feet to her head, and when it had gone, she knew he could see her.
His face went utterly ashen. The reality of what was happening began to sink in to Ginny. Like a great weight, a stone slab, pressing down on her. She thought she might be sick.
"Shit," Blaise said, staring at her.
Ginny wanted to speak, but she had forgotten how. She couldn't even open her mouth. She was sure, if she did, that she would vomit.
"What—did—" For a moment, Blaise seemed on the verge of saying something. A near scowl passed over his face, but it was gone in an instant. With a completely blank expression, he said, "How did you know I was here?"
At last, Ginny opened her mouth to respond—and immediately felt the bile rising in her throat. Lurching away from him, she barely made it to the sink on her left before she gagged up the little she had eaten, several hours earlier. When she had recovered, she turned on the tap, shaking from head to toe, and washed the mess down the sink. Then she turned to face Blaise.
He still wore that oddly blank expression. "I guess you didn't know I was here."
"Know you were here?" The words came out in a horse whisper; Ginny didn't think she could manage anything else. "I didn't know you were…alive. You're alive?" She tried to laugh but couldn't quite manage it; instead, a sort of strangled sound escaped her lips.
"Clearly."
Dimly, she registered an oddly disconnected feeling—annoyance. Annoyance at him, for acting so nonchalant about all this. She had scarcely taken her eyes off him from the moment she'd walked in, but suddenly, she didn't want to see him anymore. It was like staring into a bright light—painful, blinding. And the more she looked at him, as they exchanged words, the more real it became. The stone slab pressed down on her further, crushing her into ground.
Still shaking, Ginny took a step back—nearly stumbling—and sank onto the stool behind her. She put her head into her hands, but it wasn't enough; she was shaking so badly that even holding her head up seemed too hard. She bent down further, resting her cheek against her knees.
"Ginny."
Ginny flinched violently, hearing him say her name. It was like a cold dagger slicing through her, bringing with it an onslaught of memories, of her time with him, that year at Hogwarts. Repressing a whimper, she reached her arms up over her head and grasped her neck.
"If you didn't know I was here, then what are you doing here?"
"What is wrong with you?" Ginny whispered, not moving an inch.
"What?"
"What am I doing here?" Now, Ginny lifted her head, and stared at Blaise incredulously. "What am I doing here?" What wasshe doing here? She couldn't even remember, why she had come.
A flicker of impatience crossed Blaise's face. "Look, I need to know if anyone else knows I'm here."
Suddenly, Ginny lurched to her feet. Her shaking had stopped; she felt quite steady now. Anger was fueling her, bringing her clarity, a sense of stability.
"No, no one knows you're here!" she shouted. "No one I know even knows you're alive! You've been dead, Blaise, or didn't you know? For years—for eight years—" A breathless noise of disbelief escaped Ginny's lips. "Only I didn't know. Not that whole time. I looked for you, I lookedfor you, I told everyone you were alive, and people thought I was crazy, I lost my job, my family didn't understand—"
Blaise looked positively alarmed now. He took a step back from her.
"It wasn't until three years ago, Bellatrix Lestrange, she told me you were dead, that she'd tortured you, and killed you, she said they'd tortured you for days—"
"Well, at least that bit wasn't a lie," Blaise cut in.
"—and—what?" Ginny broke off.
Blaise met her gaze directly. "Bellatrix," he said very slowly. "Torturing me. For days." The corner of his mouth lifted in a sardonic imitation of a smile. "Well, months would be more accurate."
Ginny shook her head. "By why? For months?And where have you been, all this time?"
Blaise shrugged. "In hiding, of course. When the Death Eaters are after you, you go to ground. And I had my mum to look after," he added, as Ginny opened her mouth to speak again, forestalling her. "She had to go into hiding with me, too."
"But—for what?" Now that her ability to think was coming back to her, none of this was making any logical sense. "Why would the Death Eaters try to come after you? Why not just kill you? I thought they took you to prove a point, to punish you? Because we were in Hogsmeade together that day—"
Blaise laughed, though there was no mirth in it. "If that's all it was about, they would've killed me on the spot, Ginny." He shrugged again, dropping his eyes, avoiding her gaze. "No, they were trying to use me to get to my mum. They thought she knew something, about—I don't even know. Even once we were free, she wouldn't tell me. Didn't want to put me in anymore danger."
A horrible thought suddenly struck Ginny like lightning. "Where's—where's your mum now?"
"Dead," Blaise said flatly. "They found us. Killed her. I got away."
Ginny shook her head, amazed at the indifference in his words. She knew it was a front, a mask. She knew she should say something, say how sorry she was, but she couldn't find the words. It was all too much. She stepped away, reaching a hand out to the cabinets behind her, to steady herself. She thought she might be sick again. No, this time, she thought she might pass out. There was something clawing inside her, something fighting to be free, and it was a moment before Ginny recognized it for what it was.
"So…then…" She blinked, looking up at Blaise. "It wasn't because of me. Them taking you…that didn't happen because of me."
Blaise stared at her for a moment. His expression was utterly unreadable. Maybe he thought
her insensitive, selfish, that he had just told her his mother was dead and that he'd been condemned to such a terrible existence these past eight years, and here she was, thinking only of what this meant for herself. But she couldn't help it. The enormity of it, of what this would mean for her, was too big to ignore.
"No," he finally said. If he was upset, he didn't show it. "No, it had nothing to do with you."
There was something horrible about it—she knew it was horrible—but a huge wave of relief swept Ginny. The crushing stone that had pressed down upon her was gone. And she realized—and it was terrible, but so illuminating—she realized, that all this time, so much of her grief for Blaise's death had been nothing but guilt. Nothing but the awful idea that she had been responsible, that her carelessness, had caused this.
It wasn't that she didn't care about Blaise. She did, she had. But she saw now, why everyone had thought it strange, that she had dated him for a few months, as a teenager—and, if she was honest with herself, as mostly a distraction, really, from Harry—and yet had been so wrecked when he'd gone, when he'd supposedly died. That she had let it consume her, take the joy from her life, drive her every decision for five years. It had been guilt.
This joyous sense of freedom, this relief, this knowledge, lasted for about thirty seconds. Then the weak, sick feeling returned. She looked at Blaise. His head was tilted, watching her. He looked a little puzzled. He was probably wondering what was going through her head.
She took a deep, shaky breath, and ran a hand through her hair. "I looked for you," she said unsteadily. "For five years."
"Yes, you said." Blaise frowned a little, and crossed his arms over his chest. "And then you stopped looking, did you?"
"Bellatrix—" Ginny shook her head. "Like I said, she told me you were dead—"
"And where did you run into Bellatrix?" Blaise said flatly. "That you were able to have this little chat?"
Ginny frowned at his tone. "In France, actually. She'd come after me there, with other Death Eaters, because—because…"
She trailed off. She felt her face growing hot, and for a moment, wasn't sure why. Then, with a sinking feeling, she realized.
Draco.
"Because why?" Blaise demanded harshly. He wore a scowl on his face now. Ginny looked at him, wondering at his change in attitude. It was almost as though he knew—but how…?
A horrible thought struck Ginny.
"Does Draco know you're here?" she demanded.
Blaise recoiled as if she'd slapped him. He didn't answer right away. Then, "No," he said shortly. "He doesn't." He turned away from her, so that she could only see his profile. He was still scowling, at the wall now, his expression ugly.
"Then how did you get in here?" she asked, suspicious. "I would think only the Malfoys know—"
"And I was held captive by a Malfoy, remember? Lucius was there," Blaise said bitterly. "I heard things, all right?"
Ginny nodded slowly. "So it was you. The breach here, did you do a spell, or something? Because I was at the Ministry and they told me, that something had set off an alarm—"
"They told you that, did they?" Blaise asked evenly. He still wasn't looking at her. "Well, I guess they would. You being Draco Malfoy's lover and all."
Ginny flinched. She stared at him, an odd mixture of feelings trickling through her. Anger, pain, even a little shame, which only made her more angry. She had nothing to be ashamed about. She knew very well how she had ended up where she was, what choices had led her here. It was just that Blaise didn't know it, any of it, and she couldn't possibly see how she could make him understand.
When she spoke, her response was oddly devoid of anger. "His wife, actually," she said, very calmly.
Blaise jerked around to stare at her. "What?" he snarled.
"Draco and I got married." Ginny swallowed. "Only a few days ago." It felt like a lifetime. Everything that had happened before now, before she'd seen Blaise here, alive, felt like a lifetime ago.
For a moment, Blaise only stared at her, the ugly scowl frozen on his face. Then he snorted, and turned away again. "Figures," he muttered. "Made it official, did you? Your nice, happy little Malfoy family."
"How do you even know about any of this, anyway?" Ginny demanded. "About Malfoy, about my—family."
"You still hear things when you're in hiding, Ginny." Blaise folded his arms across his chest. The light from the tallow candles cast shadows across his face. "You hear a lot, actually. I know all about you and Draco. I know about your…son, Will."
"He's not actually my son," Ginny said quietly. "Not biologically."
"I know that, too," he said bitterly.
Ginny looked at him sharply, tilting her head. He was clearly unhappy about her and Draco, about her family, her marriage. She had assumed that any feelings he'd had for her were long gone, as hers were for him, but maybe… "Are you…jealous?" she asked. She wasn't quite able to keep a note of incredulity out of her voice.
Blaise whirled around. "No," he snapped. "Of Malfoy, you mean? What, because he has you?"
Ginny flinched. "Well, you just seem so…angry, about…something—"
"I am angry," Blaise said, and he very much looked it. His eyes were dark with anger, his mouth set in a thin line. He breathed shallowly through his nostrils. "About Malfoy. I'm angry that he's had such a nice little life, these past few years. That he has a good job, that he's lived comfortably, that he's safe, and that he does have his little, loving family, a son, and a wife who's actually more than just some ornament on his arm," Blaise seethed. "While in the meantime, I've suffered, at the hands of hisfamily, his aunt, his father—" He broke off suddenly. He took a step back, his expression closing off. Ginny thought he regretted saying so much. He had always been one to keep things in, Blaise, even more so than Draco.
"I guess you could say I am jealous of Malfoy," he said a moment later, his voice much more controlled, devoid of emotion. "But don't kid yourself, Weasley. It really doesn't have anything to do with you."
But he didn't look at her as he said it. Ginny watched him for a moment, and found herself drained of all anger. She was still too shell-shocked for anger, and hearing what Blaise had been through, seeing him like this, made it difficult to hold him to blame for her own grief and guilt.
"I'm sorry," she finally said. She should have said it before, earlier, immediately. "About your mum. And that…all this has happened to you. I know that doesn't really mean anything, but…" She trailed off, looking at him steadily.
He chanced a glance at her. He didn't say anything, but he shrugged, which she took as an acknowledgement of her words, if nothing else.
"Anyway." Ginny blew out a huge breath, and looked around the warmly-lit kitchen. "What will you do now? You can't hide out here forever."
"It does for now," Blaise said grimly.
Ginny shook her head. "But…wouldn't it be better to go abroad, maybe? The Death Eaters—"
"A good lot of them are abroad somewhere in the world, Weasley," Blaise said dismissively. "I'm as safe here as anywhere else."
Ginny wasn't sure what to say. She nearly offered help from the Order, but she knew he would spurn it. It had always been his play to stay as neutral as possible, as self-reliant as possible, and she knew, even now, even after what the Death Eaters had done to him, that he would stick to that view. She sighed, running a hand over her forehead.
"I should go," she said abruptly. She had no idea what time it was, but it had to be getting late, and it had taken her a while to get through that tunnel. Draco would be getting home from work soon, and she should have picked Will up from Shell Cottage hours ago.
Blaise looked for a moment like he wanted to say something—a scowl passed over his face—but then, with a bitter twist of his mouth, he only shrugged and said, "Well. Obviously I don't have to tell you—"
"I won't tell anyone," Ginny said quietly. "That you're here. That you're alive. But," she said, struck by an inspiration, "I could come back, if you like. Bring you any news…food. Or, well…if you want, I mean."
She knew immediately that it was a bad idea. That it would be better, for her, and for him, for everyone, if she just forgot that Blaise was here, forgot that she'd ever seen him. But for a moment—just a quick look—a fleeting hope passed through Blaise's eyes. There and gone so fast, she might've imagined it. But when he shrugged again, and said, with perfect indifference, "If you like," she knew she had not imagined it.
Author's Note: I meant to explain this in this chapter – and I probably will next chapter – how it was that Ginny did magic in the kitchen without alerting the Ministry (she took the Disillusionment Charm off herself). But I couldn't find any natural way of working it into the conversation between her and Blaise, so I'll explain here. First of all, Ginny probably wasn't really thinking when she herself did it. But the reason it didn't set off any alarms is because Hermione set up a sort of anti-detection charm, just in the kitchen, to counter the spells the Ministry put up—so that she and Blaise could do magic, just in the kitchen. That's why the alarm was set up in the first place. But when the Aurors turned up, she and Blaise hid. As for where Hermione was when Ginny ran into Blaise in the kitchen, the explanation is simple; she was elsewhere, outside the manor.