The Watch

Title- The Watch

Chapter Two

Sorry Ms. Jackson, I am for real, never meant to make your daughter Cry, I apologize a trillion times, I'm sorry Ms. Jackson.
-Outkast

They drove through a maze of streets becoming ever narrower and poorer until they reached the river. Ginny felt as if she inhabited some romance novel, rapidly becoming nightmare as her own familiar London was left behind. For one wild moment she contemplated leaping from the car, but the car was traveling at a rapid speed. Then she contemplated killing him; after all she had a license to kill. Being part of the CV insured that. However she'd never actually killed anyone before, even if it was Draco Malfoy. Women were frequently abducted from the streets, sometimes even from their own homes, but they were usually wealthy widowers or young heiresses to be framed for money. She didn't qualify on either account. Did Draco simply have rape on his mind?

'What do you want with me?' she demanded. 'Why would you be interested in a common pickpocket?'

'A most uncommon pickpocket,' her companion corrected in the most amused, equable tones he'd used throughout their encounter. 'A beautiful, well-spoken, well-dressed, and most artful pickpocket. That little fainting ploy was very clever. You rob me of my watch, then use me to effect your escape from the scene of the crime.' He laughed. 'Did you really think I would have let you go through with it?'

'So it's revenge you want,' she said slowly, although he didn't sound the least bit vengeful. 'What are you going to do? Ravish me? Rob me? Kill me?'

'What a vivid imagination you have, Miss Weasley. Ravishment has never appealed to me.' He chuckled. 'I've never found it necessary.'

Ginny could think of nothing to say to this, since it struck her as perfectly true. Despite her anger and apprehension, she had to acknowledge there was something dismally attractive about Malfoy.

'However,' he continued thoughtfully, 'if the idea appeals to you, I'm sure we could find a way to enjoy it.'

The cool effrontery of this, tuning so neatly into her thoughts, brought her swinging round to face him, with her palm raised to wipe the mocking little smile from his lips.

But he was ready for her, catching her wrist in his spare hand and forcing it down to her lap. 'You're a little too quick with your hands, Weasley. I haven't forgotten about your earlier attack, for which I intend to take reprisals.' There was no laughter on his face now, and his eyes were cold gray pools. 'I don't take kindly to being assaulted. Remember that.'

'It was provoked,' she said pale with fury. 'First you wouldn't release me and now your insulting me! I cant believe I have to listen to this.'

'I didn't realize it was an insult,' he responded with a careless shrug, but still maintaining his hold on her wrist. 'I can sense your thoughts Weasley.'

'What are they then?'

'You're thinking that we're two of a kind. Of course a Slytherin and a Gryffindor could never be that close, but I could imagine that we might enjoy each others company a lot if we were in other circumstances.'

'Arrogant, stupid, slimy, rat faced cur!' she hissed, aware of how helpless she was to do more then use her tongue to express her outrage.

'So I've been told on more then one occasion, by the same type of people actually: ruddy Gryffindor's,' he said indifferently. 'But this discussion is becoming annoying, and is I'm not mistaken, we're heading for a blizzard, so hold your tongue until we find ourselves warm and dry again.'

The weather was growing increasingly miserable, and her words would be of no heed to an iceman, so Ginny lapsed into fulminating silence. They crossed over Westminster Bridge, and the wind sweeping off the river came at them in wicked gusts, blowing stinging snow into the car. The few travelers they encountered scurried along with their heads down, cloaks pulled tight around them.

They passed through the village of Battersea, where the doors were shut tight. They passed an inn, and Ginny looked longingly at the smoke curling from its chimneys. But the iceman clearly had a destination in mind and wasn't going to stop until they had reached it. The houses were farther and farther apart now, little hamlets shrouded in snow, only a mangy mongrel or two cowering in the narrow village streets. Ginny wondered what her family was thinking, huddled in at the burrow. If they thought about it all, they'd assume she'd taken shelter from the storm.

But perhaps she'd never see him again.

As they ventured deeper into the countryside, that possibility seemed even more a probability. Ginny had never been this far outside the city, and she couldn't imagine how she would ever get back (A/N- you would suppose she could take the knight bus, but she cant coz being part of the CV you face danger everyday. If the knight bus showed up every time their would be no CV meaning the Knight bus does not come to their aid), even supposing the ice man released her after he'd done whatever he intended to do with her. What did he mean by taking reprisals?

To her annoyance tears filled her eyes. Tears of fright and cold and helplessness, they trickled warmly down her icy cheeks, mingling with the snow. Then she bit her upper lip hard, concentrating on the pain until the moment of weakness had passed. She would not give her insufferable abductor the satisfaction of seeing her weep.

'There's no need to be scared,' he said suddenly, and again she wondered how he could read her mind. 'I don't intend to hurt you.'

'I'm not scared,' she denied. 'I'm angry and I want to go home. My parents will be worrying about me. You cant just sweep an innocent person of the streets as if they have no family and no responsibility.'

'But being totally frank, Miss Weasley, you're not an innocent person,' he pointed out gently. They were entering now through Putney village, the inhospitable expanse of the snow-covered heath crowning the hill ahead of them. 'When someone earns their bread in the dubious fashion you've chosen, they must expect the unexpected.'

'And what about you? The iceman! What about the way you choose to earn a living?' she fired back.

'I always expect the unexpected,' he returned serenely. 'And what's more unexpected then having ones watch stolen by and intriguing pickpocket who's brother should be labeled hazardous to humanity? Why do you call me iceman?' he asked amused.

She shrugged her shoulders 'You look like one.'

'Should I call you shrew?'

'Why?'

'Your acting like one.'

She felt like screaming in frustration. 'Who are you and what do you want from me?'

'You still owe me Ginny.'

'Oh Lord! Are you going to harp on this issue again?'

His slow nod infuriated her. He was thoroughly enjoying himself. When Ginny realized that fact her bluster of indignation evaporated. She knew she was never going to make him see sense. The man was daft! The sooner she got away from him the better. First, however, she would have to find a way to placate him. 'Alright,' she agreed. 'I owe you. There--we are in complete agreement.'

'Glad to hear it.'

What ever response Ginny might have made died on her lips as she saw the lights of an inn glowing up ahead, throwing a welcoming shaft through the gray white veil of driving snow, the front door flew open and a burly man in a baize apron emerged, accompanied by a gangly lad.

'Eh, Luke, such filthy weather! We've been waitin' on ye,' the man said as the lad took the keys to the car. 'Is it done?'

'Yes, they'll bring the bodies here.' The iceman took the other mans hand in a tight grip. Then they both nodded as if they had put some issue to rest, and Draco looked back at her. 'Journeys end Miss Morgan.' He reached behind her and said, 'In with you now.' A hand at the small of her back propelled her into the inn, to the left a stone flagged passageway and into a room where the heat from the two massive fireplaces nearly knocked her sideways.

The taproom was brightly lit, tallow candles augmenting the firelight, and seemed full of faces, all turned towards her. Mouth-watering aromas came from the kitchen. Ginny could glimpse through an open door behind the bar, and she realized how hungry she was. It must be past noon now and she'd eaten nothing since before dawn, when she'd had a piece of bread and butter before going out to work.

'Well, what's this ye've brought back with ye, Luke?' a jovial voice demanded, the owner sat placidly puffing a long churchwarden pipe.

'This, my friends is Miss Athena Morgan,' Draco said, shrugging out of his snow-covered cloak and tossing it onto a chair.

'Is that so?' A woman stood in the doorway to the kitchen, her angular body swathed in a flowery apron. Her arms were folded across her breasts, and she held a wooden ladle in one hand. Her eyes were sharp and unfriendly as they rested on Ginny, who stood in the entrance to the taproom, melting snow from her cloak dripping to the flagstones to form a puddle around her sodden boots. 'And jest who's Miss Morgan, Luke?'

'A most artful young lady, Bessie,' the highwayman responded. He regarded Ginny with a quizzical smile that merely increased her unease. 'Do take off your cloak Miss Morgan.'

When she didn't immediately obey, he deftly unfastened the clasp at her neck and removed the sodden garment, handing it to a wide-eyed serving wench. 'Dry it, Tabitha.'

Ginny felt uncomfortably exposed in her Muggle clothes. Her fingers twitched at the torn top. She felt totally out of place in this room full of rough men, or were they wizards? The only other women were hard eyed Bessie in the doorway and the little serving girl.

'Now, to the first order of business,' Lord Lucifer said cheerfully. 'Time to pay your dues, miss Morgan.' Catching her around the waist, he swept her up and onto the long deal table in the center of the room. Gunny, for the moment, was too stunned to say anything. She stared down at the sea of faces, amused and anticipatory now, as if waiting for some entertainment to begin.

'Somewhere on herself, Miss Morgan has concealed the fruits of her mornings work at Tyburn,' Draco solemnly informed the room. 'And not incidentally my watch. One of my most valued possessions,' he added judiciously.

'Not the one ye nabbed from old Denbeigh, Luke?'

'The very same, Tom,' he concurred with a grave nod. 'Now, Miss Morgan, I think its time for you to reveal you're hiding place and show us your proceeds.'

She stared at him, her cheeks crimson, as she understood what he was saying. In the doorway waiting for the mob to pass, he'd seen her hand move stealthily when she'd been about to restore his watch. He knew precisely where she kept the pouch. He would know it was fastened around her waist, and to untie it, she would have to raise her skirt.

'You rotten bastard,' she said softly.

'Retribution, Miss Morgan, remember?' One eyebrow lifted. Casually, he reached up to the rack of clay pipes above the bar and took one down. She stood unmoving on the table as he filled the pipe, struck a match and lit the tobacco. A plume of smoke rose to mingle with the wood smoke and the already heavy cloud of pipe smoke in the low beamed room.

'Of course Bessie could assist you if you find yourself in difficulty,' he observed, gesturing to where the aproned woman still stood in the kitchen doorway. He held Ginny's livid gaze, his eyes cool and penetrating and not in the least amused. This was not a man to cross, Ginny recognized with dull foreboding as Bessie readily stepped forward, wiping her hands on the apron.

She had no choice but to comply-not if she was to prevent the woman from stripping the gown from her back in the middle of the room.

Closing her mind to the grinning circle of faces, as they pressed closer to the table, she hitched up her skirt. In her haste and embarrassment, her fingers were all thumbs. During an eternity of mortification she fumbled desperately with the ribbon that secured the lambskin pouch to her waist. But at last it fell free.

Draco was standing at the table, one hand extended for his prize, the other cradling the bowl of the pipe. His face was expressionless. Ginny hurled the heavy pouch at his head with all her force; then she jumped from the table and ran for the door, shoving her way through the audience. She grabbed her soaked cloak from the girl who still held it in the doorway and raced into the passage and out into the blinding blizzard, not knowing where she was going or what she was going to do, just running down the street, her feet sinking in the drifting snow. The wind cut through the flimsy material of her gown as she struggled to wrap herself in the cloak while she was running. Her fingers were quickly numbed, but she continued to run, head down into the storm, sobbing with rage.

The pounding steps behind her were deadened by the snow and she heard nothing at all until a hand descended on her shoulder and Draco declared in considerable exasperation, 'Bloody hell woman! Are you mad?'

'Let me go!' she twisted away from him, glaring at him through the thick curtain of snow. 'Scum! You got what you wanted! Now leave me alone.'

'I don't want another death on my conscience,' he declared.

'What conscience? You don't know the meaning of the word, you piece of slime!'

Disconcertingly, the man laughed, and it was a rich merry sound this time, worlds apart from the mockery before. 'Your entitled to that, I grant you. But I owed you something for a bite on the arm and a fist to the chin. You weren't hurt, and you showed me nothing that I haven't seen before, so truce and come back in the warm before you die out here.'

'I'd rather die then have a Malfoy help me!' She swung back into the storm, plowing her way up the narrow street, blinded now by the snowflakes clinging to her lashes.

'I never thought I'd hear a Gryffindor, let alone the Weasel's only sister, swearing that much in a single day. Do they know you are given to extravagant language and distempered freaks, Weasley?' So saying, he swept her off her feet. She yelled with the full force of her lungs, but the sound was snatched away with the wind, and she could do nothing to save herself from being carted unceremoniously back to the Mermaid's tavern.

He kicked the door closed behind him and headed for a flight of wooden stairs, calling, 'Bessie, send Tabitha up with some towels, and we'll have dinner in half an hour.'

Bessie appeared at the doorway, watching as Lord Lucifer ascended the stairs two at a time, seemingly unhampered by his still struggling and cursing burden. She pursed her lips disapprovingly and returned to her kitchen. 'Tab, you heard Lord Luke. Towels for his room.'

'Aye.' Tabitha hastened to find the towels.

Above stairs a door banged resoundingly.

'Lord of Hell woman! You may look thin, but your weight is huge,' Draco declared, setting his captive on her feet with a sigh of relief. 'Now, just stop cursing me and settle down. You can't go anywhere at the moment so you might as well accept my hospitality with grace.'

There was an inexorable logic to this that even Ginny, in all her fury, could not deny. And at least they were private, away from the sea of grinning faces that had witnessed her embarrassment.

She fell silent and looked around the chamber. It was warm and well lit with both candles and bulbs, a checkered carpet on the oak floor, a round table in the window, two upholstered chairs set on either side of the hearth, where a log fire blazed. The scent of lavender and beeswax mingled with the wood smoke; the andirons gleamed with polish, the pewter candlesticks shone, the wooden furniture had the rich patina of good housekeeping.

Suddenly, she was very tired, and her hunger rose anew with the aromas wafting up the stairs. With a little shrug she tossed aside her sodden cloak and stepped over to the fire, bending to warm her frozen hands, wincing when her fingertips tingled with the burning sensation, Her eyelashes and hair were white with snow, her feet numb in her wet doc martens. The hem of her skirt was drenched, and an uncontrollable shiver ripped through her.

Draco stood watching her, a speculative frown in his eyes. Her body was a graceful curve as she bent toward the flame, and now that she'd ceased her vilification and her struggles, he absorbed again the Madonna like beauty of her oval face, the innocent radiance of her tawny eyes.

One couldn't judge a book by its cover. His lips tautened at the bitter reminder of his father, and he waited for the angelic image of his father to fade with a violent surge of icy rage that always accompanied it. It was a familiar cycle, one he'd lived with for two years. But one day very soon he'd be able to put the evil to rest, and he'd be free of the malignant chains of deceit and injustice. And Lucius would know his son again.

A knock at the door cut into his reverie. He bade the knocker to enter, and Tabitha came in, a tray with a jug and two glasses in her hands, a pile of towels under one arm.

'Ere y'are sir. Should I set the table for dinner?'

'In ten minutes.' He waved her away. She put her burdens on the table and left.

Ginny turned from the fire. The iceman tossed her a towel. 'Dry your hair, Miss Weasley.'

She caught it automatically and began to unpin her hair while he poured them wine. Bending once again to the fire, she rubbed her loosened hair vigorously, but she was still shivering in the thin, damp clothes and her feet were still numb.

'Drink this,' he handed her a mug. She cradled it between her hands, inhaling the heady spicy fragrance. She could think of nothing to say to him and no reason for the moment to quibble with his curt commands.

Abruptly he left the room. Ginny drank deeply of the sack before sitting in an armchair to pull off her boots and stockings. With a sigh of relief she wriggled her frozen toes in the fires warmth. It hurt dreadfully as they came back to life but the pain was most welcome. Damn, if only she had brought her wand with her.

'Take of those clothes and put his on. Tab will dry your clothes.'

In the bliss of warming her self she'd almost forgotten her abductor and hadn't heard him return. She looked up startled. He was holding out a velvet robe, his expression impassive. 'My clothes will dry quite well on myself.' Ginny declared icily.

'Don't be an idiot! You'll have a cold by morning if you stay in them.' He dropped the robe on her lap. She continued to stare at him, that delicate, innocent picture of outraged modesty, and for a moment he was almost persuaded by it.

But no one should ever judge a book by its cover. She'd fooled him once already, and he knew her for a consummate actress. She was grown woman, a thief who worked the streets. And she would have used her body as currency whenever necessary.

'Don't pretend it would be the first time you've removed your dress in front of a man,' he said with dismissive scorn. 'However, I don't object to the play. Games can add a little spice, I agree.' He smiled but it was not a nice smile. 'Shall I turn my back?' He suited action to words.

Ginny looked for a knife. She found the poker. He caught the chink of iron as it touched the fender and spun around just as she raised the weapon, her little white teeth bared, murder in her eyes.

'Lord of hell!' he jumped sideways as she brought the poker down with a force that would have cracked his skull. She came after him again and he caught her arm. They swayed in a deadly ballet, and he was surprised at how strong she was-or maybe it was her fury that gave her strength. Grimly he twisted her wrist until her fingers opened and the poker clattered to the floor.

'What on earth was that all about?' he demanded, taking her shoulders and shaking her vigorously. 'You would have killed me.'

'That was my intention,' she said with soft venom. 'You dare talk to me like that!'

'Now, wait a minute!' He held up a hand imperatively. 'You're not going tell me your still a virgin, are you?'

'What gives you the right to assume I'm not?' Golden fires burned in her eyes, and her face was deathly pale. And he knew absolutely that this was not an act.

'Ruddy hell!' he released her and ran a hand through his hair as his mouth twisted ruefully. 'How was I to assume that you weren't? You're eighteen Ginny, and this isn't the 17th century!'

'You know nothing about me!'

'No' he conceded, 'Clearly not. Well, for what its worth, there are still virgins around, like McGonagall. And now I suggest you get out of those clothes while I turn my face to the wall and contemplate my sin.' He stalked over to the window and stared fixedly out into the driving snow and darkening afternoon.

In silence Ginny picked up the robe that she had tossed to the floor in her fury and turned back to the fire. The wind rattled the windowpanes, and an icy draft needled its way into the room. She knew she couldn't stay in her soaked clothes. Hastily she threw off all her clothes, lastly reaching for her bra.

'Bloody hell!' her finger nail broke as she struggled with the hooks.

'Problem with hooks?' Draco spoke from the window without turning round. 'Perhaps I can be of help.'

How could he possibly know? She set her teeth. 'Go to hell!'

'I'm not unfamiliar with it,' he observed, and there was a touch of that rich merry laughter in his voice now.

'You do surprise me!' Ginny renewed her battle, biting her lip in frustration.

'It will take a moment if you'd come over here. I'll keep my eyes closed if you wish.'

'And just how do you intend unhooking me with your eyes closed?' she demanded.

'By touch.' The amusement in his voice was now full fledged.

Ginny struggled with herself for a second, and then stalked over to him. 'Close your eyes.'

He turned from the window, eyes obediently closed, and she gave him her back. His fingers moved deftly over the hooks. She looked suspiciously over her shoulder, but his eyes were still closed. He was, however, grinning broadly. The hooks flew undone, and in a second holding the unfastened bra against her body.

'Thank you Malfoy,' she said formally.

'The pleasure's all mine,' he responded. 'I find I'm an efficient lady's maid. Is there anything else you would like me to do?'

'Turn your back!' she commanded, wondering why she found his mischievous grin so infectious. It struck her as an insane reaction after the insults he'd heaped upon her since she'd been fool enough to pick at his watch.

She slipped into the velvet robe; it was warm, thick, and voluminous. 'You may turn around now.' She bent to gather up her discarded garments.

'The view was getting a little monotonous,' he commented, turning his back to the room and coming over to the fire. He took up his glass and drank, regarding her thoughtfully over the rim. 'We really do seem to have gotten off on the wrong foot.'

'Abduction and being a Malfoy is hardly a recipe for friendship,' Ginny snapped, folding her clothes neatly, conscious of her nakedness beneath the velvet robe, and a faint fragrance coming from the garment. It was a lingering mélange of lavender and soap, with the underlying tang of male skin...Draco's smell, she realized, one she'd been inhaling most of the day.

'Will I set the table now, sir?' Tab popped her head around the door.

'Yes, thank you,' Luke responded.

Tab hastened to the round table with a tray of linen, cutlery and glasses. Task completed she glanced at Ginny, still huddled at the fireplace. 'Will I take your clothes?'

'Yes, please, Tabitha.' Ginny answered her before Draco could reply. 'As soon as they're dry, bring them back.'

'Yes miss.' Tab gathered up the clothes and hurried out.

'You won't need them again today,' Draco observed, going back to the window. 'Its almost dark, and the storm shows no sign of abating.'

'I'm not staying here,' Ginny stated flatly.

Draco merely shrugged. There was no point arguing the toss; the facts spoke for themselves, and she'd have to accept the realities soon enough.

Bessie, Tabitha, and the landlord arrived in solemn procession, bearing laden trays, and in the latter's case, two bottles of burgundy that he placed on the table before reverently drawing the corks. Ginny sniffed hungrily as Bessie lifted the lid to the oyster soup and began to ladle the contents into two deep pewter bowls.

'Will ye' carve the mutton yourself, Luke, or shall Ben come back to do it for ye?'

'I'll carve it. Thank you Bessie.' Lord Luke came to the table. He took a sip of the burgundy that Ben had poured into a glass and nodded his appreciation. 'Where've you been keeping this one, Ben?'

The landlord's ruddy color deepened. 'I've a few bottles left Luke. My way of thanking ye.'

'No need, Ben, no need. They were my friends too.'

The two men looked at each other with the same quiet intensity Ginny had noticed before, then nodded in unison, and Ben backed out of the room. Bessie cast one final look over the table; then she waved Tabitha from the room, turning to follow her.

At the door she paused. 'She'll be lyin' with ye, then?' She inclined her head in Ginny's direction, the gesture contemptuous and hostile.

'Aye,' Draco said shortly. Bessie left closing the door with a sharp click.

Ginny stood immobile, stunned by her own powerlessness. She was trapped in this place, at the mercy of this man and his Muggle friends.

'Before you start heaving food at my head Miss Weasley, let me remind you that this is no place for a woman to lie alone.'

'Before you robbed me, I had sufficient funds to pay my own way,' Ginny declared, finding her voice and relieved to find that she sounded much stronger then she felt.

'We have an interesting morality here,' he observed. 'Come to the table before the soup cools. To what extent can it be said that a robber can ethically be guilty of robbing a robber?'

Ginny followed her nose to the table, too hungry to fight enticement. 'Clearly you've never heard of honor amongst thieves, Lucifer.'

'On the contrary.' He held out a chair for her, then reached into his pocket and dropped the lambskin pouch onto the table beside her. 'You will find that I've simply retrieved my own property, Miss Weasley.'

Ginny had not yet had the chance to examine the proceeds of her mornings work. She weighed the pouch in her hand, for the moment forgetting both her hunger and the dark swirling currents of apprehension. If she had money, she could leave this place. She could hire a carriage to take her back to London. She could hire a bedchamber until the storm dies. She would not be dependent on the mercy and whim of Draco Malfoy.

She could even pay for her own dinner. She laid the pouch beside her place again and calmly picked up her spoon.

'The Inn,' Draco said, once again reading her mind with uncanny accuracy, 'does not cater to stray travelers. There are no bedchambers available for hire.'

'How could that be?' She looked up sharply.

'Other trades are plied here.' He cut into a loaf of barley bread and passed her a slick on the end of the knife, that little mocking smile played over his lips. 'The business we conduct here is best kept to ourselves, Miss Weasley.'

'A den of thieves,' she said bitterly. 'Why?' She dropped her spoon with sudden vehemence; the CV would love to get their hands on this one. 'Why did you bring me here?'

'A whim,' he responded, dipping bread into his soup. 'You intrigued me. I'm not usually taken advantage of. And besides,' he smiled lazily, 'I thought once we'd settled our business we might come to some arrangement for a pleasant evening.'

Ginny's fingers closed around the stem of her wine glass. 'I know you've had second thoughts by now.'

He shrugged. 'I didn't think you'd still be a virgin though.'

'And now that you know I am?' she asked tautly.

'Oh, I think I can live with the disappointment,' he said carelessly, pushing back his chair. 'May I carve you some mutton?'

'But why, then, did you tell Bessie I would sleep with you?'

'Because you will not last five minutes with your virginity if I did not,' he said with a touch of impatience. 'I thought I explained that.'

'So I have to trust you?'

'Well, it's not exactly what I would call a multiple choice question.' He placed a laden platter before her. 'Eat your dinner Miss Weasley. You'll sleep better with a full stomach.'