- Draco Malfoy Ginny Weasley
- Drama Romance
- Multiple Eras
- Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire Quidditch Through the Ages Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them
Published: 08/16/2002Updated: 12/01/2002Words: 98,611Chapters: 18Hits: 65,644
Sea of Waking Dreams
- Story Summary:
- Draco Malfoy has seen his share of nightmares and now, as the war with Voldemort rages around him, it takes Ginny Weasley and a ragged band of orphans to teach him what true love and loyalty really are. Draco/Ginny, and a few brief instances of m/m kissing.
- Chapter Summary:
- Draco Malfoy has seen his share of nightmares and now, as the war with Voldemort rages around him, it takes Ginny Weasley and a ragged band of orphans to teach him what true love and loyalty really are. Draco/Ginny, and a few brief instances of m/m kissing.
Sea of Waking Dreams
Ron swallowed heavily a sick feeling in his stomach, and moved to turn away. He hadn’t known Harry would be in the library, and he instinctively shied away. He had just come from the hospital wing and, still a little queasy after what he had accidentally walked in on, he was in no mood to deal with the one person he still blamed for Hermione’s death.
He paused at the doorway, however, because Harry had just made a soft, aching sound, like an animal in pain, and Ron, despite his fury, still remembered what it was like to be Harry’s best friend. As they had been before Harry, in a jealous rage, had accused him and Hermione of things they had never done. Ron turned back, his shoulders slumped with defeat. “Harry,” he called. Harry didn’t seem to have heard. “Harry.”
Harry jumped and turned to look. He’d been sitting on the windowsill, staring out at the cold sea beyond. His eyes widened when he saw Ron. “What… are you doing here?” he asked in a rusty voice that sounded like it hadn’t been used in forever.
“Stripping off my clothes and rubbing chocolate sauce all over my body, what does it look like?” Ron said mildly, walking closer. Harry looked like hell. “You all right?”
“No.” He turned back to the window and Ron watched him for a few moments. Then, with a sigh, he turned to go. Harry spoke to him without turning around. “It was my fault, wasn’t it?”
Ron turned back and considered for a moment, before saying carefully, “Not totally. It was all three of us, indirectly. I suppose we let petty jealousies and romances get in the way of what we forgot had been there all along. Friendship.”
Harry was smiling wryly. “Books and cleverness,” he said quietly. “There are more important things.”
Ron smiled a little and pulled himself onto the windowsill, pulling his knees up to his chest. He continued. “But if you’re asking if you pushed her in front of that Death Eater, then no. You didn’t kill her, Harry. This was war, people die. First all those students and professors at Hogwarts, and then her.”
“Then why do people do it?” he asked, a frustrated sort of anger in his tone that Ron understood too well. “Why have wars at all?” He sounded like a petulant little boy.
“To prove a point. To beat the bad guy. To stop someone with different ideals than yours from taking over and making you do what they say. There are any number of reasons, but none, really, make enough sense to justify all the pain and death.” Ron shrugged. “Everyone loses in war, Harry.”
Harry glanced at Ron and then his eyes slid away. “I know,” he whispered. “I lost my best friend.”
“Hermione was my best friend as well.”
“I didn’t mean her. Well, I didn’t mean only her. I meant you as well. God, Ron, how did we let things fall apart like this?”
Ron sighed, turning to look out the window. “I don’t know. Jealousy, I suppose. You loved her, Harry.”
“That was the problem,” Harry whispered. “I didn’t. I wanted to love her, I tried so hard to love her, because it was right and she loved me and everyone expected it of me, but I didn’t love her. Not like she deserved. As a friend, of course, but not like she wanted me to. Actually, I always rather thought she belonged with you.”
Ron looked stunned. “Harry,” he cried softly, aching inside for all those feelings towards Hermione that had tried to take root inside him all these years that he had firmly pushed away because Harry and Hermione were his best friends and happy together. “But Harry, how could you not love her?”
“You said jealousy tore us apart,” Harry whispered raggedly. “And it did.”
“You had nothing to be jealous of. Hermione and I —”
“Belonged together and I destroyed that just as surely as I destroyed her. That wasn’t what I was jealous of. It was…” He looked uncomfortable, licking his dry lips and glancing away. “Your sister. And Draco.”
Ron looked confused, and his face flushed a little as he suddenly remembered the scene in the hospital wing. “Ginny? You told me you didn’t fancy her.”
Ron was silent, bewildered, and then his eyes widened. “Malfoy?”
Harry scowled. “I don’t expect you to understand, I mean, I hardly understand myself.”
“That boy really does get around,” Ron said in a vaguely awe-stricken tone. “And trust me, I do understand. He is a great snogger.” He was referring, of course, to that strange incident against the willow tree.
Harry’s eyes flew wide and he stared at Ron in horror. “You and Malfoy…?”
“Oh bugger, you were unconscious for that, weren’t you? I don’t suppose anyone told you about it. Malfoy certainly wouldn’t have, would he?” Ron told him quickly about Lucky’s uncontrollable magic, and Harry was smiling grudgingly by the end. Then he turned solemn again.
“I don’t like him, honestly. It’s hard to explain, really. I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about him, and it made me feel so terribly guilty and I started getting angry and I guess I thought that maybe if I accused Hermione of acting on what I’m sure she at least subconsciously felt for you, she would. Then I’d have a legitimate reason to break up with her and you and she could be together and no one would suspect…”
Harry shook his head angrily. “I don’t even know.”
“Well… when you figure it out, you’ll tell me, won’t you? And not go lusting after Malfoy? Because I have it on good authority that he’s in love with my sister.” Ron smiled a little.
“I told you, I don’t like him, I just want to…”
“Shag him senseless?” Ron asked dryly. “You and my sister should start a fan club.”
“What? A fan club for what?” Ginny called suddenly from the doorway. Ron turned scarlet.
“Nothing,” he stammered.
Ginny rolled her eyes but ignored him, walking over to Harry, smoothing his hair, straightening his glasses, and kissing his forehead in a very motherly fashion. “Are you all right, Harry? I heard about Hermione.”
He forced a smile. “I’ll be all right.”
“Harry,” Ron said suddenly, “I’ve already lost one of my best friends to this bloody war, I don’t want to lose you too.”
Harry smiled a little back at him. “So we’re still friends?”
“Of course you’re still friends,” Ginny said firmly. “Friendship is stronger than things like this. But Ron, I have some confessions to make, things I need to tell you.”
“What?” Ron grumbled, as Ginny climbed up onto the windowsill as well, which was a tight squeeze. “Has Malfoy decided to make an honest woman out of you with marriage?”
She smiled the secretive sort of smile that only someone in love can pull off, though her ears started turning a dark shade of pink. “You’re being positively medieval, Ron. Besides, it’s not like I haven’t ever been married before.”
“You haven’t, Gin.”
“That’s my confession, Ron. You remember Hadley?” She told him the whole story, having decided that she owed her family the truth. Harry and Ron both listened in silence, for the most part, the expressions on their faces flickering from disbelief to horror, and then fury. By the end of it, Ginny was trembling with nervousness, afraid they’d hate her for the role she had played in the fall of Hogwarts.
They didn’t blame her. They were filled with righteous fury that anyone had used her like that, and if Hadley had been alive then, he wouldn’t have remained that way for very much longer. After Ginny had calmed them down and Ron had said for the hundredth time that mum was going to murder her, the three of them sat in silence by the window, listening to the waves.
Finally, Harry asked softly, “So what happens now?”
“We rebuild,” Ginny said simply. “What else is there really to do? Whenever anything falls apart, you just pick all the pieces back up again and build something new and better that will last longer than the first.”
“You’re too optimistic,” Harry replied quietly.
“Dumbledore wants to rebuild Hogwarts, and he’s going to need all the help he can get,” Ron told them. “Charlie, Fred, George, Percy, Bill, and I already signed on to help him with it, and Hagrid’s coming back of course. Oliver is going to help as well. You two would probably be welcome to help too. It’s going to take massive work. Ginny, Madam Pomfrey could probably use an apprentice, she’s getting on in years. You can be the new matron at the new Hogwarts, after it’s built.”
Ginny turned a funny pink colour. “Pomfrey’s not too fond of me at the moment,” she said, to which Ron replied with a muffled noise that sounded very much like ‘ah-ha!’. Ginny shot him a dark look. “Besides, I want to go some place quiet. Somewhere far away from the sea, in a little cottage, where the only magic I’ll have to do is cleaning charms and more work on my freckle-removing potions. The children will come with me, of course. I won’t leave them in this dratted castle.”
Ron looked grim. “Dumbledore says the Ministry’s already come together again, regrouping and taking stock. Apparently they’ve already declared the war orphans as wards of the state, to be taken by them and given to a select committee to begin putting memory charms and such on them to make them forget everything that’s happened and undo the psychological damage.”
Ginny leapt off the windowsill. “You can’t undo damage by covering it up,” she snarled. “They’re not coming anywhere near my children, they can all go shove broomsticks up their arses for all I bloody well care!”
“Whoa, Gin, calm down, it’s for their own good!” Harry pleaded.
She spun to face him and spat, “Was it for your own good that your aunt and uncle kept your heritage from you, Harry? That you don’t remember your mother and father and no one told you how they died until you were eleven years old? Those children don’t need memory charms, they need a quiet place where they can forget about blood and death and dying in their own time and without anymore bloody meddling by the magical community. If anyone thinks differently and so much as tries to lay a single fucking hand on any of those children, I will skin them alive.”
Both Harry and Ron looked shaken at her vehemence, but before they could think of a thing to say, Ginny had stomped from the room in a rage.
Fudge was sitting nervously in Dumbledore’s office when Ginny threw the door open, so hard that it slammed against the wall and echoed. She had come to Dumbledore’s office in a rage, intent upon taking her fury out on him, but when she caught sight of the Minister of Magic, sitting harmlessly on a chair, suddenly crawling out from under whatever rock he had used for cover during the war, her plans changed. Her hands curled into claws and when she spoke, she hissed.
“You can’t touched them.”
Fudge looked properly horrified at this sudden confrontation, and Dumbledore said smoothly, “Miss Weasley. We’ve been waiting for you.”
She didn’t ask how he had known she would be there, nor did she particularly care. She advanced on Fudge, snarling. “I swear it,” she said. “I’ll hurt you.”
“Now, Miss Weasley, surely we can handle this matter in a civilized fashion. You are simply not a fit guardian for children this young and impressionable,” Fudge said in a professional tone. “Honestly, you act as if once we’ve taken them, you’ll never get to see them again! I’m sure which ever homes we find for them following the memory charm treatments will not mind if you visit every now and again.”
“They will not remember who I am. I was a perfectly able and fit guardian before now, what does Voldemort’s death have to do with my ability to take care of children?” She was beginning to tremble and had the horrible feeling that she was about to burst into tears.
“In wartime, certain sacrifices must be made,” Fudge said with a shrug. “Now that we are able to provide for the children more proficiently, it is imperative that we do so as soon as possible.”
“Sacrifices—” Ginny hissed.
Dumbledore cut her off. “Really now, Fudge,” he said in a voice that had an edge of steel in it. “Now is not the time.” He turned to Ginny and his expression gentled. “I understand your disappointment, Miss Weasley, but surely you can understand that you can no longer provide for them in a manner befitting their needs.”
“I can,” she told him stubbornly.
“And where would you live?” he asked softly.
“Does it matter? We’d live in a shack in the middle of the mountains where meddling old fools like the lot of you would never find us! It wouldn’t matter, all I know is that they aren’t going to lose the only family they’ve got, and right now, that’s me and each other, and if you try to take them, I will fight you.”
“Now, Miss Weasley,” Fudge lectured in a patronizing tone. “You cannot expect a young girl like yourself to bear such a responsibility forever!”
Ginny and Dumbledore ignored him. “If you are sure, Ginny,” he drawled softly, his voice soothing, “Then I shall of course aid you in your fight anyway that I can.”
“I’m sure,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “You can’t take them from me.”
He smiled reassuringly at her. “Then we shall launch an appeal.”
“You can’t,” Fudge cried. “The ministry is already gathering the children and preparing to take them to the facility! Even now they’re being taken —”
“Now?” Ginny said in shock. “They’re being taken now?”
Fudge was nodding. “Yes. They must be treated as soon as possible to wipe this horrible stain from their memories.”
“No. No, no, no.” Ginny spun and ran for the door, Fudge trying to come after her, but Dumbledore stopped him with a sharp word.
She ran all the way to the children’s dormitory, barreling through the door. Four cold-faced ministry officials, including her own brother Percy, were packing the children’s things. The children were standing in a huddled knot, looking sleepy and bewildered. They calmed when they saw her standing there.
“Ginny,” Belle called, smiling with relief. “These men say we have to go away.”
“You don’t,” Ginny told her, marching into the room. She used her wand and a quickly spoken spell to snatch the children’s suitcases out of the startled ministry officials’ hands and slam them against the opposite wall, breaking the suitcases open and showering the floor with the children’s clothes.
“Ginny,” Percy said quietly. “You have to let us take them.”
“I don’t,” she declared. “Get out. You can’t have them.”
He looked startled and he snapped for the other officials to wait in the hall, and then turned to Ginny, grabbing her by the wrists. “Listen to me,” he hissed. “You can’t take on the whole ministry like this and expect to win. Don’t worry, the children will be safe, I’ll see to that. They’re going to the Supreme Wizarding Court in London, and I’ll file an appeal for you as soon as I get there, it’s your only chance, all right? I’ll do my best for you, but honestly, the whole ministry has gotten it into their heads that they can pretend this whole thing never happened by removing it from the children’s minds and never mentioning it again. I’ll keep them safe for you, Gin, and then we’ll work on your appeal, all right?”
She had no choice and she nodded tearfully before running to the children and gathering them up, hugging each one and kissing their foreheads, telling them to be good and that she’d see them soon.
“You’re not leaving us, are you?” Miles asked doubtfully. His own parents’ deaths were a distant memory, and he didn’t want to be abandoned like that again.
“No,” she promised. “We’ll be together again as soon as I can manage it. In the meantime, be good and remember your manners. And if you can, practice the lessons we’ve been learning!”
The other officials had returned to the room, made short work of repacking, and Fudge had appeared in the doorway, looking quite pleased with himself. “There are plenty of families who have lost children in this war that will want another,” he said jovially. “We shall find homes for you all!”
“But sir,” Lucky said in a tiny voice. “This is our home.”
“Nonsense, nonsense,” Fudge chuckled, herding the children out of the room. Ginny followed them, calling out soft farewells until they’d left the castle. The Knight Bus had been recruited to take them to London, and Ginny stood on the front steps, waving until they were out of sight. Then, when the children could no longer see, Ginny burst into noisy tears and ran back to the hospital wing. She was sobbing noisily and it was lucky that Madam Pomfrey was out, or she would most likely have forced a calming potion down Ginny’s throat and ordered plenty of bed rest.
Ginny threw herself onto Draco’s bed, burying her face in his chest, and crying. He was startled, but he smirked a little as he stroked her hair.
“Miss me already, Gin? You only left two hours ago,” he drawled.
She crawled onto the bed with him, still crying, and shook her head wordlessly.
Draco sighed a little and held her close, waiting for her to calm down. “Pomfrey will have a fit if she finds you in my bed again,” he said lightly, waiting for her to stop crying so she could tell him what was wrong.
“I don’t care,” Ginny mumbled mutinously. “Let her try to throw me out.”
Draco frowned thoughtfully. “Ginny Weasley, being rebellious?” he mused. “Gin, what’s wrong?”
“Fudge took the children,” she whispered, shaking. “He wants them to undergo some treatment to wipe all memory of the war away and then give them to adoptive families who lost children in the war.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed. “He can’t,” he said in a hard voice. “He has no legal grounds.”
“Well, he did. They’re gone. Dumbledore and Percy told me to file an appeal but they said that I’m not f-fit to care for the children because I’m too young and I don’t have anywhere to live and I haven’t got any money.”
Scoffing gently, Draco smiled dangerously, his eyes glittering with rage. “Not have any money? You don’t think being the Heir to the Malfoy Fortune was just a fancy title, did you?”
She sat up, looking at him worriedly. “Draco, you don’t have to help me get them back.”
He scowled furiously. “They can’t have them, Ginny. They’re ours, all of them, and I won’t let them be taken away.”
Ginny sniffled. “You called them ours,” she whispered.
He shot her an impatient look. “Of course I did. They’re going to live with us, aren’t they? In Malfoy Manor. Of course they are. Honestly, Ginny, don’t be daft.”
Ginny was feeling just a little dizzy. “Malfoy Manor?”
He tossed his blanket aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed, grimacing at how weak he felt. “Damn it, let’s go,” he said impatiently. “We can’t very well get the children back if you persist in sitting there and staring at me like that.”
“Draco,” she said soothingly, grabbing his hand and trying to pull him back into the bed. “You’re not well yet, Madam Pomfrey won’t let you go. We can’t go fight Fudge right now.”
He tugged her out of the bed instead. “No one keeps me in a bed I don’t want to be in, Ginny, surely you realize that by now. And besides, I didn’t go through all this shit to inherit the Malfoy name and fortune just to sit idly by and let a pompous fool like Fudge take things from me based on legal grounds. It just isn’t what Malfoys do, and I refuse to be the first.”
“Draco,” she pleaded weakly, even as he walked out of the hospital wing, still holding onto her wrist firmly. “You aren’t well yet.”
“Of course I’m well,” he replied airily.
“Being a Malfoy doesn’t make you immortal as well,” she snapped, but he pretended that he hadn’t heard her.
He went straight to Dumbledore’s office, and Fudge was there, waiting again. Dumbledore smiled politely at Draco and said, “We’ve been expecting you, Draco. Do come in.”
“Expecting him?” Ginny cried in exasperation. “Honestly, you couldn’t have been expecting him he is supposed to be in bed.”
“Yes, but I’d imagine you two are more alike than you’d like to admit,” Dumbledore said mildly. “If it had been you, Ginny, in the hospital wing when you heard about the children, would you have stayed?”
“Exactly. Now then, Draco, I have informed Fudge that he was to remain here so that you may shout at him, so please proceed.” Dumbledore’s smile was a little vicious.
“Really,” Fudge sniffed. “We cannot allow our operations to be at the whim of a mere boy, Dumbledore. It just isn’t done.”
“A mere boy?” Draco said silkily, his eyes very dark. “Does the Malfoy name count for nothing any longer?”
Fudge seemed to have realized exactly who he was talking to and stuttered, “Of course not. But really, I would think this matter beneath the notice of such an esteemed, respected line such as yours, Mr. Malfoy. I mean, surely, such an important family as yours has more important matters to contend with.”
Draco’s eyes narrowed dangerously and with an easy, graceful motion, he picked Fudge up by the front of his robes and slammed him into the wall, hard enough to knock a painting to the floor. “Dumbledore,” Fudge cried.
Dumbledore was bent over apiece of parchment and he didn’t glance up. “I’m rather busy at the moment, Fudge,” he said calmly.
“I am being accosted!”
“I honestly don’t see a thing.” Dumbledore smiled again, glancing up. “But perhaps after this, you will learn not to underestimate the whims of a mere boy.”
“You will bring those children back here, or I will make you very, very sorry for it,” Draco snarled very quietly.
“It is a matter for the ministry to decide,” Fudge cried.
“In doing so,” Draco told him coldly, “the ministry runs the risk of pissing off two of the oldest, purest bloodlines in the wizarding world, and honestly, when Malfoys get pissed off, they aren’t very forgiving.”
Fudge seemed to have gathered some pathetic bit of courage. “They are wards of the ministry, and will be placed in homes accordingly. Miss Weasley does not have the financial backing required to care for them.”
“They will live at Malfoy Manor,” Draco hissed, dropping Fudge abruptly. “With me, and with Ginny.”
“Live at the manor?” Fudge scoffed. “Your father would never have allow that.”
“Ooh, you stupid, ignorant, bloody bastard,” Ginny shrieked suddenly. Her face was white with rage and she threw a huge snow globe across the room that shattered against the wall. Even Draco looked stunned.
“Ginny,” he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. It did not help that he did not feel particularly soothing. “It’s all right.”
“It isn’t,” she screamed, grabbing books off Dumbledore’s shelves and throwing those as well. “They can’t have them.”
Draco shot Fudge a faintly amused look, satisfied to see that the minister looked rather worried. “Honestly, Ginny, this is hardly proving that you are calm and sane enough to care for the children,” he said with a smirk.
Ginny’s eyes narrowed with fury, suddenly directed at Draco, and she sat down heavily, biting out, “I am calm,” through gritted teeth.
Draco turned back to Fudge and said easily, “What my father would or would not allow no longer matters, sir, as he is dead. Or hadn’t you heard? Perhaps if you paid more attention to the war being fought around you rather than saving your own fat ass, we’d all be saved the time it takes to tell the story after it’s over.”
“I know he’s dead!” Fudge cried. Draco ignored him.
“And as such, I have inherited the Malfoy estate, and can do with it as I see fit. If I wish to turn the manor into a house for orphaned children, a brothel, a garden shed, or a refuge for garden gnomes, it does not matter. It is mine, and I will use it for what I wish, and the ministry has no control over that, and if it insists upon taking those children from Ginny and myself, by the time I am finished with your precious ministry, they won’t be so inclined to meddle in matters that aren’t their concern again. In fact, I dare say they probably won’t be able to sleep without nightmares for the rest of their pathetic lives.” He smiled slowly, viciously. “My father taught me well, sir, I promise you. I can make you regret you were ever born.” He swept from the room then, and Ginny, with one last scathing glance at Fudge, hurried after him.
He was waiting for her in the hall, leaning lazily against the wall. She slammed the door loudly behind her and then stumbled to a stop upon seeing him there. She could tell he was furious, despite his relaxed stance, because his face was white except for two red spots of rage on his cheekbones.
“Are you all right?” he asked her in a tightly controlled voice.
She swallowed hard, suddenly wanting to cry again. “Yes.” Her voice sounded small. “Are you?”
“No. I want to smash things and scream like a toddler,” he admitted with a weary smile.
“We will get them back,” she said softly, coming to stand beside him.
He shot her a dark look. “Of course we will, that’s not even a question. But Fudge really doesn’t have to be such an insufferable git about it.”
“We’ll have to launch an appeal,” she told him, slipping her hand into his.
Draco scoffed. “Malfoys don’t appeal. We’ll just go to London and take them back.”
“Weasleys appeal,” she said quietly.
“And look where that’s got them,” he snapped.
Ginny dropped his hand as if it burned. “Draco.”
He looked instantly contrite. “Sorry. Didn’t mean that. I’m just so angry I can’t think straight.”
She sighed, stepping closer and stroking his face. “We’ll get them back, I promise,” she whispered. “My father and Percy both work for the ministry, they’ll help us.” She kissed him gently. He was pale, and there were dark purple shadows under his eyes. “You’ve got to rest, Draco, you’re not strong enough to take on the whole ministry yet.”
He scowled but let her take his hand and lead him back to his room, forcing him to lie down. He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her onto his bed with him, but she didn’t complain, just snuggled up beside him.
“Draco?” she asked quietly. “Did you mean what you said about me and the children living at Malfoy Manor?”
He scowled. “Of course I did. Where else would you live?”
She didn’t say anything for a few minutes, and then whispered, “Thank you.”
He kissed the top of her head and they lay there in silence for a long time before the sound of Draco’s beating heart lulled Ginny to sleep.
A pounding at the door a short while later, followed by an argument erupting in the hall, woke her, and Draco sat up, cursing. They could hear shouting through the door.
“Of course she’s in there, Percy, trust me!” Ron was yelling.
“What would Ginny be doing in Malfoy’s room?” Percy snapped in reply.
“Honestly, don’t be a prude. Ginny! Whatever you’re doing in there, stop it, we’re coming in!” There was a five second pause, presumably to allow Ginny time to make herself decent, and then the door flew open.
She blinked sleepily as Ron walked into the room, Percy following a great deal more reluctantly. His eyes widened when he saw Ginny lying on Draco’s bed, and the fact that she was clothed and lying on top of the covers didn’t seem to matter.
“Ginny! What are you doing here? On Malfoy’s bed?” he gasped.
“Oh, come on, Percy!” Ron snapped. “Get over it, we have more important things to worry about.”
“But we cannot allow Ginny to associate like this with Malfoy, you know what he’s like, just as well as I do!” Percy cried.
Ginny narrowed her eyes thoughtfully, glancing from Percy to Draco. “You and Percy haven’t…” she trailed off delicately, lifting one eyebrow gracefully in question.
Draco looked confused for a moment and then he smirked. “No, Gin, I haven’t snogged Percy. Ron’s the only one.”
“Malfoy!” Ron howled. “You weren’t supposed to tell —”
“Ron, you… you snogged…” Percy looked faint. He cleared his throat and turned back to Ginny. “But this is unacceptable. It’s indecent. Ginny, what would mum say?!”
Draco got off the bed with an amused smirk. “It’s not what you think,” he told Percy easily. “Oh, don’t get me wrong, it would have been exactly what you think, and I’d wager I would have found it very acceptable, as would your sister. Unfortunately, she fell asleep.”
Ginny was turning a strange shade of pink and trying to think up a reply for that, when Percy sputtered, “If you took advantage of her while she was sleeping —”
“Shut up, Percy,” Ron said finally, with a scowl. “Let’s just get on with this.”
“Oh. Yes. The children. They’re safe, in a children’s home in London. I’ve filed your appeal, but it doesn’t look good. The ministry’s dead set on wiping their memories,” Percy explained.
“Are you saying there’s no chance?” Ginny asked.
Percy sighed. “I don’t even know what you’re going to do with them if you do manage to get them back. Are you sure —”
“We will get them back,” Draco said dangerously. “And they will live with me and Ginny at Malfoy Manor.”
Percy waved an airy hand at him. “Ginny won’t be going with you,” he said smugly. “Weasleys don’t associate with Malfoys. But I will try my best to get the children back for Ginny. I’m sure we can fit them in back at The Burrow…” he trailed off thoughtfully. “We can give them Fred and George’s room.”
Ginny shot Draco a pleading look, the only thing that kept him from smashing Percy’s face in. “Percy,” she said sharply. “Shut up. Honestly, you don’t know what you’re talking about, and you’re being a git. I like associating with Draco, and if you’ve got a problem with it, perhaps you might want to think about why no one wants to associate with you. Besides, I’m not a child. Getting the children back is the issue here, not who I choose to associate with.” She climbed off the bed and shook her hair out of her face. “If you could all stop bickering for a few moments, we’d be able to come up with a plan.”
“I’ve got a plan,” Draco declared.
“Draco, I’ve already told that stealing them out of London and killing whomever gets in your way isn’t going to work,” Ginny scowled.
“I’ve got a better plan. Pack your things.”
“Excuse me?” she blinked at him.
“You heard me. Pack your things, we’ll leave today. I’ll go make the arrangements with Dumbledore.” He swept from the room, leaving Ginny there, open mouthed in shock.
Ron crossed his arms over his chest, smirking in mild amusement. “What a git,” he drawled.
Ginny scowled at him. “Do shut up, Ron,” she snapped. She stalked from her room, torn between running after Draco and ordering him to tell her just where they were supposed to be going, and being a good girl and going to pack her things. Her mood black, she stomped up to her room to pack.
Draco was smiling with cold satisfaction as he made his way to Ginny’s room. They would be leaving Seandrar Castle that evening.
He paused outside Ginny’s door, frowning. He could hear things smashing in her room and, worried, he threw the door open, thinking she was being attacked.
She wasn’t. She was throwing things across the room, vaguely in the direction of her open suitcase, in a mad fit. Draco leaned against the doorjamb, crossing his arms and smirking in amusement, watching her.
“Gin,” he drawled finally. “Having a problem?”
She turned to him, growling with rage. “Yes,” she bit out furiously.
“What is it?”
“You. You are my problem.”
Now Draco was startled. “I am?”
She nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, her scowl nearly mirroring his. “You are. You’re an insufferable git.”
“So you’ve said before,” he said lazily, though his eyes were narrowed. “And just what is the problem with that?”
“The problem,” she shouted, throwing a handful of socks in the general direction of a suitcase, “is that you ordered me to pack.”
“You’re just as well to come with me with nothing at all, if you’d rather,” he growled, walking into the room and kicking her suitcase over. Everything that had managed to land in it flew all over the floor.
She shrieked, throwing herself to her knees and gathering it all back up, shoving it back in. “Of course I want to pack,” she hissed.
Draco scowled. “Then what’s the problem?”
“The problem is that you ordered me to pack, never thought to explain why or where we’re going, never thought to ask if I wanted to go, ordered me around like a house elf, didn’t stick around long enough to explain things to me, and acted like I was too inferior to understand! Really, Draco, if this is what being in love with a Malfoy is going to be like, than honestly, I quit!”
Draco still looked rather bewildered, and he said, “We’re going to Malfoy Manor to consult my team of law experts…”
She scowled. “Why the hell do the Malfoys have a team of law experts? I didn’t think they cared about the law!”
He looked hurt. “To help with our taxes.”
“I’m serious.” He stepped carefully over the broken piles of things all over the floor, approaching her warily. “Didn’t you trust me?”
“Of course I trust you,” she snarled. “I told you I loved you, didn’t I? Just…honestly, Draco. I’m not just another addition to your household of servants. We’re not married, you can’t just order me around, because I won’t stand for it! If this is how your father treated your mother, than I pity the woman!” As soon as she said it, her eyes widened horribly and she clapped one hand over her mouth. Draco was standing very close now, and she was half afraid he was going to hit her. “Oh, god, Draco, I shouldn’t have said that, I didn’t mean it, I —” He lifted one hand and she flinched, whimpering. Draco froze.
“Ginny,” he said in a scandalized tone. “Did you think I was going to hit you?”
“I…Draco…” she trailed off, and then whispered, “I’m sorry.”
“I wasn’t going to hit you.” He sounded shaken. He was staring at her with hurt shining in his gray eyes. “I wouldn’t ever.” He raised his hand again and touched her face, which had been his first intention.
Ginny was still breathing heavily from her angry outburst. “I really am sorry, I shouldn’t —”
Draco kissed her gently, his hands slipping around to her back and pulling her against him, molding her body to his. He tilted her head back, angling his own, licking and nibbling carefully at her lips while his hands stroked her back until the tension eased out of her shoulders. She kissed him back, melting against him, and he pulled away as soon as her knees had gone so weak that she had to cling to his shoulders.
“What are you doing?” she asked breathlessly, staring up at him with glazed eyes.
He smiled wickedly. “Showing you what being in love with a Malfoy is really like.”
He moved his lips to her ear, nibbling lightly there, and Ginny tilted her head to the side, still holding tightly to his shoulders. “Are you still angry at me?” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.
“N-no,” she squeaked.
He smiled again, sucking lightly on her neck. “Good.”
“This really isn’t fair,” she told him, as his hands slipped under her shirt, tracing circles on her belly that matched the circles his tongue brushed on her throat.
“Don’t you like it?” he asked, sounding hurt, though she knew it wasn’t real. His hands were sliding up higher under her shirt, and she sucked in a sharp breath, moaning a little.
“Draco… we shouldn’t… what if… Percy…” she was growing breathless and having troubles thinking straight.
Draco scoffed lightly, flicking his wand at the door. It slammed shut and a locking charm bound it tightly. He tossed his wand to the floor and then he started undoing the buttons on Ginny’s shirt, staring at the neckline and working his way down, nibbling and licking the skin he was gradually exposing.
“Draco…” she said again, though he wasn’t sure if she was protesting this time. He pulled back a little anyway.
“C’mon,” he whispered teasingly, taking one of her hands in his. “I’ll be your best friend.”
She rolled her eyes. “Are you going to hold that against me forever?”
“No,” he said solemnly, stepping closer again and pushing her gently back a few steps, so the edge of the bed was pressed against the back of her knees. “I’ll find better things.”
“Better things?” she asked, breathing heavily as she let him push her until she was on the bed. “Better things for what?”
“Holding against you,” he said in that same solemn tone, and before she could ask him any more questions, he crawled onto the bed on top of her, kissing her until he’d driven any question from her mind.
Her hands were tugging impatiently at his shirt and he finished with her buttons and then pulled his own shirt over his head, tossing it aside. Ginny pushed him a little, and he rolled onto his back so she could straddle his waist. She bit the side of his neck, nearly hard enough to draw blood, and Draco yelped, laughing a little. “Watch it,” he teased, as her hands ran over his chest. “Don’t leave tooth marks.”
She shot him a dark look and then licked the spot she’d bitten lightly, sucking it hard enough to leave a mark. Draco closed his eyes, one of his hands tangled in her hair, the other holding one of hers, and he moaned very softly while she nibbled and sucked his neck, and when she finally stopped and kissed him wildly, he was nearly as breathless as she was. The strange heat in her blood felt like thousands of bubbles, and Ginny giggled against his lips.
Draco lifted one graceful eyebrow in question. “Problem?” he drawled.
Ginny giggled again, sitting up and glancing down at him. She began to laugh helplessly. “I’m sorry,” she managed to gasp. “Really.”
He watched her with an amused smile. “Ginny, really,” he said. “You’re not supposed to giggle, it worries me.”
“I can’t help it. Really. It’s just…funny…” she laughed again, so hard that her chest hurt, and she rolled helplessly off him. “I am so sorry, really,” she giggled.
“You don’t sound it.”
“Are you mad?” she was still snickering.
He sighed, but was still smiling, a crooked, boyish grin. “I suppose not. We couldn’t go much further anyway.” He ran a hand through his messy hair.
She stopped giggling and looked hurt. “Why? Don’t you want me?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I just snogged you senseless out of pure boredom.”
“Because you’ve never done this before and had we gone any further, I probably would have forgotten to stop and then you’d spend the rest of your life thinking I just seduced you to get you to obey my commands.”
She thought for a moment. “That’s not why you were doing it?”
He smiled again, and it was nearly a shy smile (except Draco never smiled that way). “You’re quite pretty when you’re angry,” was all he said. He sat up quickly, grabbing his shirt and going to her mirror. It whistled in awe, but he ignored it, inspecting the hickey on his neck. “God, Gin, you’re like a leech,” he teased.
She smiled, slipping up behind him and wrapping her arms around his waist. “Now all the other girls will know you’re mine.”
“Yeah, and your brothers will slaughter me.”
“Wear a scarf,” she shrugged easily, smirking, before walking to her suitcase. “Come and help me pack.”
He turned around and watched her for a moment, before saying uneasily, “Gin, aren’t you going to put a shirt on?”
He looked very uncomfortable, and she grinned up at him, adjusting her bra strap. “Umm, I don’t think so. Not just yet, anyway.”
“You’re such a prat,” he mumbled, looking away. He didn’t complain again, however, though there were two slight red patches on his cheeks as he helped her pack, and he didn’t seem to pay much attention to the task.