Chapter 8—The Taste of Kisses

A/N: Thanks to all readers, reviewers, and followers! 😊 Sorry that I haven't updated this in awhile; I'll do better from now on. FFN is still having a lot of issues, but I think the best thing to do is to just keep posting.

The next morning, she was hacking at the overgrown rose thicket again with a machete when Invictus swooped down from the sky. She wiped her forehead with the back of the hand and took the letter, glad of a break.

Weasley,

Oh, yes. I often envy Potter and your brother and the others, because they found a means to escape from the Manor, which is a trick I can't picture myself pulling off. Pity I couldn't have disappeared with them, really, but I don't think my presence would have gone over well.

I'm tired of everything here, particularly the things I can't tell you. Sometimes, I do wish I could simply run. And I want… but never mind, I will not put that wish to paper.

DM

Ginny sat down on a tree stump, staring at the letter. What was he actually saying? Could he possibly mean that he wanted to leave the Death Eaters, that he would do it if he could? I can't believe that, she thought. But… she couldn't dismiss the idea, either.

After all, she knew that Draco was a Death Eater, but she didn't know for a fact that he had really gone wholeheartedly over to the other side. He had saved Harry, Ron, and Hermione at Eostre. And Ron had told her that at the end of the tense standoff at the top of the Astronomy tower the year before, Malfoy had actually been lowering his wand. Snape was the one who stepped forward to kill Dumbledore. Perhaps Malfoy didn't really want to be a Death Eater, or to participate in any of the things they did, or even to be near them… perhaps he hated all of it, but he was trapped…

Ugh, thought Ginny, disgusted with herself. I'm doing it again, building Draco Malfoy up into some sort of tragic figure! He's anything but that. He's probably fine with everything that's going on at Malfoy Manor.

No, he's not. I don't believe that, she realized.

If he's not, well, he's still at Malfoy Manor with those Death Eaters and Voldemort. Whatever doubts he might have, they obviously haven't been enough to make him change his mind about staying there, she firmly reminded herself. We've been over all of this already.

But if his mind could be changed…

Ginny tapped the quill on the other side of the parchment. She had no idea if he would even think halfway seriously about leaving the Death Eaters, and she was more than half sure that she was only deluding herself in even thinking he might. But she had to at least try to find out more. How to put it, though? Malfoy, if you came over to the right side, I would protect you. No, I can't write that! I would tell everyone that you've changed? Oh, great, when I don't even have any real idea if he's changed or not. Malfoy, if you switch to our side, then I could rub your temples every night, and take your pain away, and lie in your arms, in that enormous curtained bed—oh gods no, what's wrong with me? Finally, she settled on a reply.

Malfoy,

You could choose to do what's right instead of what is easy. You can make that choice now; it's never too late. And I would help you in any way I could, if you did.

GW

That night, she heard tapping at the window again. She opened it to let in a rather frazzled-looking owl. Invictus held out his claw tiredly, and she took the parchment.

Weasley,

Perhaps you're right. I simply don't know. If there is a moment of choice, a turning point when choice balances on a knife's edge, I wonder if we can understand it while it is laid out before us. If I could see your face, I might know that moment. Perhaps you could help me, if you were only here.

Ginny ran the tips of her fingers over the slightly irregular surface of the parchment, thinking about what she would write in reply, more unsettled than she wanted to admit. Then she saw another line at the very bottom, the handwriting a bit shaky, as if it had been dashed off quickly.

I wish that I could be where you are, Weasley. And if I were there, I wonder what your kisses would taste like.

DM

Ginny swore and yanked the parchment away from her. This was it. She finally had to stop this bizarre correspondence with Draco Malfoy. She should have ended it a lot earlier, or at the very least, she should have told her parents and everyone else that it was happening. She hadn't done either. But at the very least, I'll stop now, she vowed. Really. I will. Better late than never.

That having been decided, she took the quill from the owl's other claw. On the other side of the parchment, she wrote her reply.

I wish you would join me, Malfoy. And I wonder too.

GW

She sent Invictus back, but he only circled round in a confused way once or twice and then landed in front of her, holding out his claw with a soft hoo-hooing sound. Furrowing her brow in confusion, she took the scroll and unrolled it again, searching for some clue as to why. She reread Draco's side of the letter, and then she saw what was written beneath his initials, on the very bottom of the page, a part he had never used before when writing to her.

Postscript: Weasley, will you please keep this letter instead of sending a reply back to me?

If he had ordered her to keep it, then she would have been compelled to do the exact opposite. If he had taken a lordly tone at all, then her way would have been clear; she could have sent it back without a qualm, or maybe even without a reply. But he had asked her. And he had said the word 'please', which was one that she wouldn't have been surprised to learn that he didn't even know. Ginny groaned, but she performed a Shrinking spell on the parchment and stuffed it in a pocket of her jeans.

May 2nd, 1998

Ginny couldn't tell where she was. She could only see a path lined by a vague jumble of heaped things on all sides, books and statues, chairs and desks, shelves and wardrobes. Draco Malfoy stood directly in front of her. In one hand, he held an ornate necklace with a large golden charm swinging from it, shaped like some sort of flower. With the other, he beckoned to her. Ginny had meant to shake her head no, to back away, but instead, she found herself walking closer to him, mesmerized by his silvery eyes. Come away with me, he whispered to her, and she had no strength to refuse him, although she knew she should. But then his silver gaze suddenly moved away from her, flicking to one side; Ginny followed where he was looking, and then-

Slam!

Ginny blinked. Sunlight was streaming in from the window. When she got up and looked outside, she could tell that it must already be well after breakfast time. Strange, she thought. I usually wake up earlier than this. I wonder what that noise was? Sounded like a door slamming downstairs… oh, I suppose Mum is in a mood. I'd better give her a bit of time before going down.

She took a long shower, trying and trying to remember her dream as she stood under the water. No matter how hard she tried, it would not quite come clear. Something about Draco Malfoy; I do know that much. Ugh. If I'm actually thick enough to dream about him… but then, after the things he said in that last letter… oh, I can't think about it all right now!

She spent a long time working conditioner into her hair and then drying it and brushing it smooth, selecting her favorite trousers and most flattering sleeveless blouse, fixing silver rings in her ears. She dabbed on a bit of makeup, which she normally never did when home by herself, and she picked a pretty pair of sandals. She laid her nicest light summer robe on her bed. Then she went downstairs, not looking forward to breakfast very much, but her heart pounding for some reason she could not define.

Twenty minutes later, Ginny stood at the kitchen table, breathing hard. She had just finished searching the entire house, and everyone was gone. The awful truth was starting to sink in. She had thought that when word came that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had returned, then the real battle would begin, all right, and it would be at the Burrow. She had expected shouting, screaming arguments with her parents, violent refusals to let her go to Hogwarts with them, frenzied attempts to get away, and a hair-raising, split second escape from being tied up and dumped in the basement. What she hadn't expected was to wake up and find everyone simply gone. But that was exactly what had happened. The house was empty. A note lay on the table.

Ginny dear,

We've gone to Hogwarts. We're meeting Harry, Ron, Hermione, and all of your brothers there. I'm afraid that you will not be able to follow us. The wards have been set around the house, and you cannot leave. The final battle begins today, and you must understand that I cannot allow you to fight in it. Please try to remember that I have, as always, your best interests at heart.

Love,

Mum

She let the note fall to the table, staring straight ahead. No. This can't be. They can't have left. And the wards… no! I'll find a way out; I have to, and then I'll go to Hogwarts and join the battle. I will not stay here.

As she clenched her fists and bit her lip in mingled fury and despair, she heard the sound of flapping wings.

Invictus!

In that instant, she was sure that she knew what was going on. Draco Malfoy really had left the Death Eaters. He had come for her, and they would go to Hogwarts together, and fight together on the same side. This was what he had meant when he'd said that he wanted to be where she was. She would stand up for him; she would tell everyone that he had changed, she would not allow him to be harmed by anyone. Ginny knew that she had her work cut out for her when it came to her brothers, Ron especially, but she could do it. She could almost see Draco standing just outside the wards of the Burrow, only yards away, waiting for her. When she ran towards him, he would break the protection spell somehow; he must know some way to do it, although her mind shied away from the specifics of that. Surely he must be able to get in, or she wouldn't have received even one of his owls. He would see her walking towards him; he would begin to run towards her, and then—

The owl flew into the open window and skidded to a halt on the table. One look was all it took to clearly see that it was not Invictus. A stubby barn owl blinked up at her dazedly and held out a claw with a package in it. She opened it, and several coins fell out. She knew instantly what this meant. Neville had sent her the spelled Galleons, exactly as he'd said he would, and his owl had been able to get through because it was carrying them.

Malfoy probably couldn't send an owl today without being seen, she thought. He must already be at Hogwarts, or on his way. I'm sure that's it.

What she didn't know was if the Galleons were going to allow her to get out of whatever spells were protecting the Burrow, and she doubted it. Still, she could only try. She ate a piece of bread smeared with butter while running up the stairs, put on a long-sleeved shirt, remembering how cold early May days could be at Hogwarts. Scanning her room, she grabbed a satchel, throwing in a bag of peanuts, a kerchief, one of her father's flashlights with batteries, a sealed bottle of lemon squash, a handful of knuts, all with the confused idea of preparing for emergencies. At the last second, she stuffed Malfoy's last letter into a zippered pocket.

The magical barrier shimmered at the end of the front walk. Her heart sank. The spells had clearly been strengthened that morning. Taking a deep breath, she nudged the spectral wall with one foot, fully expecting it to snap into place and leave her staggering. Instead, her leg went through without any resistance. Ginny's mouth fell open. Cautiously, she stepped through the rest of the way. it was as easy as walking through mist. I didn't know the galleons worked like this, she thought. But thank all the gods they do.

A tall figure stood in the small grouping of twisted willow trees just beyond the end of the yard. For an instant, her heart leapt. Malfoy! But then he stepped out from the shadows, and she recognized her brother Fred, with George just behind him.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"A nice welcome from the dear little sister we've come to rescue from the tower, I must say," sighed Fred.

"You mean—"

"We mean that we're taking you to Hogsmeade," said George. "I'm still not completely sure it's a good idea—"

"What do you mean? It's the best idea I've had since the Vomitus mints!" exclaimed Fred.

"Vomitus mints?" Ginny asked dubiously.

"Great for getting out of nasty tests," said Fred. "They've been very popular at the shop. Anyway, we're bringing you into the thick of things, sis, because I know that's where you would want to be. From the Hog's Head, we'll all be able to get into Hogwarts, and voulay—"

"Voila, Fred—"

"That's what I said. Voila, you can go to the battle." He beamed at her.

George looked much less happy. "I'm still just not sure this is a good idea," he muttered. "I ought to veto it, I really should."

"You can't tell me what to do, little bro," said Fred. "I'm fifteen minutes older than you."

George looked at her soberly. "Gin, are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes," she said, as quickly as she could.

"All right, then, let's get going," said Fred. "Smooth sailing from here on out. One thing though, Gin—I really didn't know how we were going to get you past those spells around the house. How'd you manage it?"

Ginny shrugged. "I honestly don't know. I was able to just walk through."

"Between Mum and Dad, they can come up with a jolly good Impenetrability spell," said George. "I wonder what went wrong."

"It doesn't matter," Ginny said impatiently. "Let's just go!"

As the three made their way towards the lane that led to Stoatshead hill, Ginny tried not to think about exactly why she was so excited to get to Hogwarts. It's to see Harry, my brother, and my friends, she repeated herself over and over again. It's so I can fight in the battle instead of being stuck at home. It's… She left the thought unfinished every time, but she knew how it had to end. It's to find out if Malfoy really meant what he said. I want to be where you are… if he meant it, then surely he'll be there, too, and he'll need my help.