Who Followed Who?

Narcissa and Lucius had already retired to their bedroom when Draco and Ginny returned to the Manor. When Draco showed her the bedroom that was to be hers during her stay there, she tried not to look too impressed. She was sure she had failed miserably at it, too.

She placed her suitcase gingerly on the floor beside an oak writing desk and stared at her opulent surroundings. The four-poster bed had a canopy above it, and curtains were tied back at the head of the bed. The floor was carpeted with the same rich golden tones that the hallways had been covered in, and matching heavy curtains hung at the window. A small leather chair rested in the corner of the room, right beside a small end table. She turned and gave Draco an incredulous look.

"I can't sleep here," she said, her voice tinged with awe. He gave her a somewhat annoyed look.

"Why not?"

"I'd be too afraid that I'd damage something, or get it dirty," she said, shaking her head. She moved forward and lightly touched her fingertips to the satiny bedspread, not noticing his smirk.

"Be that as it may, this is your room for the next month or so, so get used to it. Now, who do I have to Crucio to get a pot of chocolate around here?" She turned and smiled at him.

"Show me to your kitchen, and I will gladly make it for you." His cheeks turned pink, and she stifled a giggle. "Please, tell me you know where your own kitchen is, Draco."

"I never needed to get anything there for myself, so why should I know?" he asked defensively. She covered her mouth with her hand to prevent the onslaught of laughter that threatened, and tried to look sympathetic.

"You're absolutely right. Well, perhaps you could call a house elf to show me, then?" He bristled.

"No," he said simply, reaching for her arm and pulling her out into the hallway. "We'll find it; I don't need help from a house elf." He let go of her arm and she followed him through the twisting hallways. After what she estimated to be ten minutes, she caught the scent of vanilla. She stopped and turned to her left, heading down the hallway alone. When Draco noticed that her footsteps had stopped, he turned. She was nowhere to be found.

He retraced his steps and turned down a hallway that he could only remember being in once before, and heard her laughter. His steps quickened and he pushed open a set of large swinging doors, only to find her standing in front of a stove, wielding a large wooden spoon. She turned when he stepped into the room and shot him a heart-stopping grin.

"I think I've found it," she said, gratefully accepting a container of milk from one house elf and several bars of Honeydukes' chocolate from another. He nodded and sat down at a small table.

"So you have." He watched as she patiently melted the chocolate into the heated milk, and then poured some into a cup for him. She sat down beside him and blew into her mug.

Several moments passed in silence while Draco observed her over the rim of his mug. She stared down into the contents of her own cup, wearing a confused expression. His heart did a somersault inside his chest as he realized what she was probably thinking about. Had that kiss been a mistake? He'd been the first one to make a move, but she'd pulled him back for that second breathtaking kiss. Was she regretting it now? Wishing she could take it back?

"Knut for your thoughts," she said softly. He started, then relaxed.

"What?"

"You looked so far away just now," she said, wrapping her slender fingers around the almost empty mug. He tapped the tabletop lightly with his fingertips.

"I was very close, actually," he said coolly. Her cheeks turned slightly pink, which made him smirk. So she had been thinking about him and that kiss, after all.

"Well, thank you for the chocolate," she said, standing. She took her mug to the sink and rinsed it out, eliciting a frown from him. "What?"

"Malfoys don't clean their own mugs," he said. She arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well, seeing as how I'm not a Malfoy, I suppose it's all right then, isn't it?" He eyed her for a moment, and then shrugged as he stood.

"If you want to wash your own dishes like a peasant, that's your own business." She stared after him as he left, wondering why he'd taken such offense to her doing something that was just as good as second nature to her. Surely he hadn't already forgotten whom she was- where she came from?

She wandered around the Manor for almost thirty minutes before she managed to find her room again. When she had changed into her pyjamas (which consisted of an old, over-sized t-shirt that used to belong to Ron and a pair of baggy sweatpants), she crawled under the heavy blankets, and drifted into a heavy sleep.

Draco, for the most part, couldn't figure out why he'd said what he had, either. He rested his forehead against his arms and sighed. He didn't know why he'd taken such offense to her gesture, other than he supposed he'd expected her to come into his home and be served by the house elves just as he was. Of course, she hadn't had house elves in her home growing up, and she just wasn't used to them.

Then again, she'd been waited on by house elves at Hogwarts, hadn't she? He lifted his head and rose from the desk he'd been seated at. Perhaps his discontent had risen from the idea that she might have regretted the kiss they'd shared. He groaned again as he slipped his clothes off. Why had he done such an idiotic thing?

He knew why. Because she'd been so damned accepting, that's why. Even the wives of Death Eaters couldn't stand to see the Dark Mark marring their husbands' skin; and yet she, who had no real connections to him, had accepted it almost without question. She'd known beforehand that he was a Death Eater, but still, she'd asked no questions of him. That was the sort of loyalty his Mother showed to his Father, and it was one of the things he wanted most of all in his own life.

He squeezed his eyes shut tightly as he tossed and turned beneath the silk sheets of his bed. Damn it all to hell, he felt guilty for leaving her to find her own way back to her room! And more than that, he felt desire; yearning- he wanted another kiss. And he wanted to know what she really thought about him.

His eyes flew open as his next thought hit him hard - he wanted Ginny Weasley.