The Watch

Title- The Watch

Summary- This chapter Ginny goes home with Draco. Draco meets Ron and Ginny's dad. This chapter hints of what is to come later in this novel. And you, the audience are introduced to yet another one of Draco's names, lol just for confusion factors...

Chapter Four

You don't have to say what you did

I already know, I found out from him

Now there's no chance for you and me, there'll never be

And don't it make you sad about it

You told me you loved me, why did you leave me,

Now you tell me you need me

Girl I refuse you must have me confused with some other guy

Your bridges were burned and now it's your turn to cry

So cry me a river

Cry me a river

-Justin Timberlake

Someone had mended her torn shirt, Tabitha, Ginny presumed. It was difficult to imagine the hard-eyed, unfriendly Bessie doing anything for her.

She dressed before the fire in the deserted bedroom. Draco had said that he would wait for her in the lounge where breakfast was ready and had left her to herself. She was grateful for his unusual consideration from a man who hitherto had shown little or no recognition of a need for personal privacy. But, after a night of uhh sensuality, she'd expected him to offer clothes at the very least.

Ginny felt very peculiar as she retied the leather pouch around her waist, its weight a comforting reality. She was confused, dismayed, and yet curiously excited, as if she'd crossed some boundary and entered unchartered territory. Her body thrumming and her skin felt acutely sensitive. Surely she must look different after last night. She gazed at her image in the mirror, but only her familiar face stared back at her. There was a deeper glow to her skin, perhaps; maybe her eyes seemed larger; and her hair was springing out around her face in a dark unruly halo as if it had been vigorously combed with a thousand fingers.

She took up the comb on the dresser and dragged it through the tangling waves. Her hairpins were still in the lounge where she'd taken them out previously. Just yesterday!

Ginny sat down abruptly, staring into the fire, trying to connect herself with the person she'd been yesterday... before she'd stolen the ferrets watch. She was different this morning, but time would distance the memories of this morning, but time would distance the memories of that fantastic dream. She would return to her flat at Hyde Park, to the drear poky lodgings above the Chinese takeaway shop, to her fathers self-obsessed world of the mind, to the daily struggle to maintain some sense of pride as she negotiated with the pawn shop owner and mended their clothes and went out on the streets to risk her neck whenever the CV called her.

She jumped as the door suddenly banged open to admit Bessie, who stood with arms folded, leaning against the doorjamb. 'There's some of us 'as work to do,' she announced. 'Can't lie abed all day like some bleedin' lady muck. You goin' to get yer breakfast, or shall it be cleared away?'

Ginny stood up and fixed Bessie with a cold stare. 'If you'd tell me what my shot is, I'll pay it directly.'

Bessie raised an eyebrow. 'Hoity-toity! I don't want yer money. Luke takes care of us. And you'd best make 'aste. He's got work of 'is own to do today.'

'If he had something to say to me, he can come and say it himself,' Ginny declared. 'I'll join him in five minutes. Perhaps you'd like to pass that on.'

The air stilled as she stared fixedly at the woman with all the hauteur of Miss Ginny Weasley of the Burrow, with blue blood lines ranging to the beginning of time. Bessie stared back and then sniffed, spun on her heel, and marched out, banging the door behind her.

With a little smile Ginny returned to her dressing arranging the repaired shirt. She felt much better after that little show of assertion. Gathering up her cloak, and leaving her hair loose around her shoulders, she made her way to the lounge.

The passage was chilly, and there was a reek of stale beer and smoke wafting up the stairs from the taproom. She could hear the thumping and dragging of furniture, a splash and slop of water as a bucket was emptied over the dirty flagstones, the thunder of a full barrel being rolled over the cobbles in the yard outside. The Mermaids Tavern was preparing for a new day.

At the door to the lounge, she unconsciously squared her shoulders before twisting the knob. The ferret was sitting at the same round table addressing a platter of sirloin, Again she had a shock as she took in his costume, the strong lines of his face, the broadness of his brow, accentuated by his pale white blonde hair, his eyes somehow more piercing, their grey deeper, darker.

He rose with a courteous bow as she entered. 'My dear Miss Weasley, I trust you past a pleasant night.'

The mischievous undercurrent to the formal pleasantry took her breath away, and she was momentary speechless. Then she saw the laughter in his eyes, the twitch of his firm mouth, and the air of complicit enjoyment.

'Phantasmagorical, I believe.'

Something- a touch of discomfort- flickered across his eyes and then was gone. 'Come to the table Weasel.' He moved to draw a chair out for her. As she sat down, he swept the loose mass of fiery hair from her neck and bent to kiss her nape.

Ginny shivered; her skin prickled beneath the warm pressure of his lips and the cool rustle of his breath. No, she thought, she was not at all the same person who'd entered this room yesterday. Her head dropped beneath the pressure of his mouth and she yielded to the delicious sensation, her body responding as if to a familiar stimulus... only her mind didn't recognize it in the same way. Her mind had not been in her body during the long, joyous hours of the night, and only her flesh knew this for what it was.

How had it happened? How could she have been both waking and sleeping through such a pivotal experience?

But she could find no answer. It had happened, and her body now was telling her it wanted to happen again, only this time with the participation of her mind.

As he straightened, she jerked her head up abruptly shaking her hair loosely over her shoulders again. 'What turns Lord Luke into Minister Vladimir?' she asked with an assumption of carelessness, wondering if he was aware of her reaction to that caress. One glance at his smiling expression told her the answer.

'Business,' he said, returning to his own seat. 'I have different kinds of business to deal with and so different roles.' He passed her a slice of oven-warm bread, as white and fragrant as any to be found in the most exclusive establishments. 'Coffee?'

'Thank you.' She took the slice and watched as he poured coffee from a pewter pot into a deep china mug. 'And what business is it that requires the role and costume of a minister?'

'Ministry business, I should imagine,' he said dryly, lifting the lid on a chafing dish. 'Bacon, Miss Weasley?'

'I beg your pardon, I didn't mean to pry.' Ginny's mouth thinned at this implicit reproof. 'No, thank you.'

'Mushrooms, then?' he inquired with a solicitous air, gesturing to another dish. 'Or perhaps a slice of ham? I'm sure Bessie would prepare you eggs if you want?'

'I doubt that Bessie would give me the shavings of her fingernails,' Ginny declared with vigorous vulgarity, digging the spoon into the platter of mushrooms.

Minister Vlad- she decided to call Draco in his present disguise- merely laughed and sat back, one hand curled around a mug. 'She's not one for polite conversation.'

'She's so... rude!' Ginny snapped, buttering her bread. 'And I would prefer to pay for my own bread and food, Vlad.'

Her companion frowned and said in the tone she'd heard so often since the previous day, 'No, I don't think so.'

'What do you mean, you don't think so?' she demanded in irritation. 'That is what I wish to do and I intend to do it. So perhaps you would inform Bessie of that fact, since she would not hear it from me.' She speared a forkful of mushrooms and carried it into her mouth.

'No, she wouldn't hear it from you,' he agreed. 'You see, she is not used to taking orders from anyone but me. And she's well aware that you are my guest. I hope you found your stay hear well met.' He added gently. 'I should be very sorry to think so after we've had such a pleasant time together.'

Ginny's cheeks warmed. Was he saying that he was paying for sex? So he saw her for a slut?

And goddamn, why shouldn't he? She behaved like one.

Abruptly, she pushed her chair back and stood up. 'Goodbye Malfoy, and I trust Minister Vladimir's business will prosper.' She stalked to the door, flung it wide, and allowed it to bang shut as she left.

Her feet flew down the stairs, and she burst into the bitterly cold sunshine, breathing deeply, drawing the icy air into her lungs, enjoying the sharp, and cleansing pain. Everything was white and pristine under its fresh carpet of snow; the usual filth and squalor of the narrow streets buried a foot deep. The sky was a brilliant blue, and her boots crunched across the snow as she turned to the side of the inn in search of the stable yard. They would presumably have some kind of vehicle for hire that would carry her back to London.

The only vehicle in the yard however was a limousine. Ben and the gangly lad were unloading barrels. Ben glanced up at Ginny and then carried on with his work as if she wasn't there. She stood awkwardly, looking around. The stable buildings were all closed up, and she knew that one roan, at least- the 'Lord Lucifer's' roan- was stabled within. Maybe, if they didn't have a carriage or gig she could hire, they would have a riding horse. She wasn't dressed for riding, but that wasn't the least of her worries.

She walked up to the dray. 'I wish to hire a taxi or a car, if that's all you have available.'

'Don't 'ave nuthin' like that.' He was less rude then Bessie, but nonetheless unhelpful.

Ginny slipped her hand into the slit in her skirt, feeling for her pouch. Maybe a little gold could persuade Ben to change his mind. She shivered, realizing for the first time she had abandoned her coat in the ferrets lounge. It was bloody annoying. Apart from the fact that she would freeze to death without them, they were her only decent outer garments, essential to her appearance, as a rich young lady, and she couldn't afford to replace them. But the prospect of trailing foolishly back to the lounge after such an exit was insupportable.

'Bloody hell!' she exclaimed stamping her foot in the snow in frustration.

'Forgot something, Miss Weasley?'

Draco's suave tones came from the back door of the inn. He stood in the doorway, a dark velvet cloak lined in turquoise silk hanging from his shoulders, a black tricorn tucked beneath his arm. Over his other arm he carried Ginny's coat.

'I'm afraid you will catch a cold if you persist in running around in just that flimsy skirt and top,' he said, coming toward her, shaking his head in reproof. 'It's really not at all sensible, you know.'

Ginny ground her teeth as he carefully placed her cloak around her shoulders and fastened the clasp at the neck.

'For Voldemort's sake, I can do it!' Ginny jerked her hand away and pulled away from his hold. 'I want to hire cab to take me home, but the innkeeper says they don't have anything. I suppose they might find a car on your authority,' she added bitterly, drawing in the hood of her cloak over her hair. 'But if it's too hard for your simple mind, I can always walk.'

Draco sighed. 'You are the most obstinate and perverse girl, I've ever met, but what else can I expect from a Weasley. I said I would take you home this morning, and I will take you home.'

'I don't want to be in your debt anymore! I'm not for sale, dammit!' To her further fury she could hear tears in her voice, and even the knowledge that they were tears of anger rather than hurt didn't make the weakness easier to bear. She turned away from him with a rough gesture as if she would push him away.

'You're not in debt to me, Ginny. If anything, I'm in your debt.' He laid an arresting hand on her arm. 'I thought I told you yesterday that you were given to rude language and loud freaking out spasms, and I have to tell you the truth, there starting to annoy me a bit, not to mention insulting in the present instance. And who said anything about buying you, I would doubt anyone would want to?'

'You want the Mercedes, Luke?' Ben called before Ginny could reply to Draco exasperated question. 'Fredy'll have it in a trice.'

'Thanks Ben.'

'So they do have a car,' Ginny exclaimed. 'I knew it.'

'Yes, well its not for hire,' Malfoy said. 'It belongs to me.'

'Trust, you're a Malfoy through and through.'

'I'm no more a common Malfoy, then you are a common Weasley, how many other Weasley's lie?'

She was prevented from responding, as Freddy had returned with a silver car.

''Ere yare, Lord Luke. Shiny in't it? I waxed 'em for an hour last even.' The boy beamed proudly.

Draco opened the back door for Ginny, 'permit me to help you inside,' he said gallantly.

Ginny could see no sensible alternative, although pride was a hard nut to swallow. She climbed into the car, disdaining the proffered assistance.

Draco followed her with an agile leap. 'Let's go.' The boy obeyed, and the car lurched forward.

Ginny huddled into her cloak, covertly watching her companions profile as he looked out the window. She was disinclined for conversation, and, fortunately, Malfoy seemed content with his own thoughts until they'd crossed London Bridge and were once again in streets familiar to her.

Draco spoke as they drove up Gracechurch Street. 'I'll need your help now, Miss Weasley. We came over London Bridge, because I remembered Shoreditch, but I have no idea where to go from here.'

'If you could take me to Aldgate, I can find my way from there,' Ginny said. Regardless of how close they had been the previous night, Ginny didn't want him to see the poverty of her home. After all Draco lived in luxury, that was entitled to all Malfoy's, despite that he was a wanted man.

'No, I don't think so,' he said, 'I'll take you up to your door.'

'And if I choose not to tell you where I live?'

He cut her a sidelong look that to her chagrin was a brimful of amusement. 'Then I should be obliged to take it into my own hands to ensure your compliance.'

Ginny wondered vaguely what such steps would entail. Whatever it was, she didn't think she would enjoy it. She told her self firmly, 'there was no need to be ashamed of being who you are.' She sat up with an air of determination. 'Fine, but you'll have to stop at Quaker Street. I have to redeem some things.'

'Of course, Princess Weasel,' he said with mock politeness, 'Any where else?'

She directed him through the maze of East End streets, admiring his skill and the way he appeared oblivious to the stares and catcalls that greeted a car, which was rarely seen in this area. Ragged children huddled on street corners, beggars parading their mutilations, coming dangerously close to the car. A young woman darted out in front of the car, clutching a baby to her breast. She raised her haggard eyes in pitiful appeal and thrust out her hand, claw like, over the side of the carriage as they slowed and swerved to avoid a tribe of mangy, starving dogs in pursuit of a squalling cat.

Draco barely looked at her, but he reached into his pocket and tossed her a coin. She fell back, scrabbling as it tumbled into the cobbles. 'She'll only spend it on alcohol,' he said with cold indifference that made Ginny wince, although she understood the helplessness that lay behind it.

'Maybe,' she said. 'But it might make her more patient with her child.'

'And when she's dead, because of the alcohol in her liver, what happens to the child?' The same detachment was in his voice, but Ginny had the feeling that it was a mask for his true feelings. She'd learned her own ways of dealing with the horrors that lived and breathed on these streets, and she knew that if one didn't cultivate a certain detachment, you would be driven mad.

She made no answer to the rhetorical question, merely directed him to Quaker Street. He drew up outside the sign of three golden balls.

'I'll go in on my own,' Ginny protested. 'I'm use to it.'

The Malfoy ignored this, merely jumped out of the car and held the door open for her.

Ginny shrugged and stepped down, aware of the curious eyes at windows, their less inhibited neighbours staring openly out of their doors at the extraordinary sight of The Creeveys lodger driving in the elegant Mercedes Benz, with an exquisite male sample. Ron would find out about this, who knows if he would respond to it. He notices nothing, outside Harry, she thought bitterly. Her companion opened the door, the bell tinkling merrily. He held it for her, and she stepped into the crowded, dark, and frowsty interior, where the smell of old clothes and dust and mould dominated.

'Come fer yer pa's books, then?' An elderly man, so short his head barely topped the counter, blinked into the dimness. 'Thought you wasn't comin' to pay yer instalment this week. Due yesterday ye were. Lucky I didn't sell 'em on ye.'

'Oh, come on Jebediah. Who around here would buy 'Why it was the founders of Hogwarts as opposed to Muggle's featured in Plato's Republic' and two volumes of 'Muggle interaction in Greek Mythology'?' Ginny said dismissively, reaching into her skirt for the pouch, She extracted several galleons and dropped them onto the counter.

'And two knuts' interest,' Ginny said, scooping the coins off the counter. 'Due yesterday.'

'There's no interest if I redeem them,' Ginny declared. 'So don't your tricks on me.'

Jebediah gave her a toothless grin and stared over he shoulder at the tall elegant figure of her companion. 'I see ye've got yerself a gennelman friend, then. Quite the gent 'e looks.'

Ginny flushed angrily. 'Get me the books, Jebediah.'

'All right, all right.' He shuffled off in his carpet slippers into the dark recesses of the noisome shop, returning after a minute with three leather-bound, gilt-edged volumes. 'Doin' ye a favour, I am, takin' these fer good money,' he asserted. 'Much good they'd do me if'n ye didn't come fer 'em'

'Exactly what I said,' Ginny agreed serenely, opening the volumes and clapping them together. A cloud of dust filled the dank air. 'But don't think I'm not grateful, you old rogue.' She dropped another knut on the counter. 'That's just to show my appreciation.'

'Come into a fortune 'ave ye?' He picked up the coin and bit it to test the metal, his shrew eyes returning to the silent figure of Draco. 'A fortune, eh? Well, who can blame ye when yer face is all the fortune ye've got.'

Ginny swung on her heel and made for the door, clutching her fathers books. There was no hope of explaining the true situation to Jebediah, who only saw what he saw. And what he saw was what everyone would see, she knew. Yet another reason for not wanting Draco to take her to her door.

'How often do you have to go through that?' Draco inquired, opening the car door for her. 'He seemed a most encroaching, uhhh gentleman.'

'Too often, and he is,' she responded, examining the books carefully. 'He's a rogue and I'm always afraid he might decided he had a use for the pages and tear them out. Dad worries so much whenever a book is missing from his library. I'd hate to know how he would react if they came back damages.'

'Does Jebediah hold anything else of yours?' Draco opened the door for himself.

'Some jewellery... a few pieces that belonged to my mother,' Ginny said with a shrug. 'So long as I pay the weekly instalments, he'll keep them. Although I can't imagine, when I'll be able to wear them again.'

It was said without self-pit, Draco noticed, but he also heard the under-lying bitterness. 'One day, you'll get your revenge.'

Ginny laughed without humour. 'And pigs fly.'

'You can dream,' he returned neutrally.

'Yeah, I can dream,' she agreed. 'Turn right at the end.'

They drew up at a narrow, crooked house in a narrow crooked lane, the overhanging eaves on either side almost touching to form a roof across the street below. A grimy window on the ground floor exhibited the wares of the chandler. Above a bow window jutted into the alley.

'Thanks for escorting me,' Ginny said formally, jumping down before he could come to her assistance. 'I hope you can find your own way back.'

'Yesterday I said I was going to drop you off to the centre of your family,' Draco said with a bland smile. 'I haven't changed my mind. I look forward to meeting your father... and Ron.'

'Your car?' Ginny pointed out without much hope. Why on earth would he want to pursue this?

'I'm sure Fred can look after it.' As he spoke the door opened, Joan Creeveys eldest son appeared in the doorway, staring with wide-eyed astonishment at his mother's lodger in astonishment.

'Come inside then.' Ginny directed with a resigned sigh. She went ahead of him into the shop, wondering what frame of mind her father would be in and if Ron was with Harry. Both Weasley men could be charming in some circumstances, and at others so irascible, it was impossible to remain in the same room as them.

'Well, I never. Just where have you been, Miss Weasley? Out of my mind with worry,' A short round lady bustled out from the back of the shop. More pointedly the woman was Colin's younger sister, Joan. 'Your pa's been creatin' something chronic. He would 'ave it somethin' had happened to you, although I told him you would have taken shelter from the storm, and...' Her voice died as she took in Ginny's companion. 'Well I never.'

'This is ummm' Ginny was unsure of what to call him at this moment, he obviously did not want to give away his true identity, or Joan would call the Ministry and have him arrested.

'Minister Vladimir, at your service.' Draco filled in.

'He's come to visit Papa. This way, sir.' Ginny said hastily, without waiting for a further word from the astounded landlady, she swept up a narrow flight of stairs at the rear of the shop, with Draco at her heels.

Draco inclined his head in a slight bow as he passed Joan. The woman seemed relatively well disposed toward her lodger, he thought, and the shop, while hardly affluent, had a prosperous air at odds with the grimness of the surrounding streets.

It wasn't the depths of poverty, but Ginny was as out of place as a diamond midst coal.

He followed her lithe figure up the creaking, rickety wooden stairs, her hair glowing a burnished copper in the light thrown by a candle in a wall sconce illuminating the tight spiral stairway. At the head of the stairs she paused before a closed doorway, turning toward him as he came up to join her on the narrow landing. The golden eyes were lambent in the dimness, her full lips slightly parted as if she were about to say something. A warm pink tinged the high cheekbones, highlighting the creamy translucence of her complexion.

A veritable diamond- and if she would listen to him, then she would have a setting worthy of her.

Smiling, he cupped her chin in his hand, but she pulled away sharply.

'You could ruin my reputation, or whatever's left of it!' she hissed in whispered outrage. 'Its bad enough that I've been absent all-night and then appear with you in the morning. The gossip will be all over the neighbourhood, but there's no need to spell it out for them.'

He drew back, and looked apologetic, although his tone was more ironical then conciliatory. 'Forgive me, now may I see your father?

Ginny opened the door and stepped swiftly into the room. 'Papa, I have a visitor.'

Draco came in and closed the door behind him. The room was small and ill furnished, lit with small lamps, a small coal fire spluttering in the hearth. A narrow bed with a patchwork quilt stood against one wall. The bow window looked out onto the street, and sitting at a desk set in the window was a thin man with a mane of white hair and the same tawny gold eyes as his daughter. He wore an old fashioned, ash grey coat, his shirt was collarless, and a coarse horse blanket was draped over his shoulders. His features were well defined beneath a bony, prominent brow, but he bore an air of distraction as he turned towards the door, frowning at the new arrivals.

'Ginny, child, where have you been? I do believe you weren't here all night.'

'No, Papa, I was caught in the storm,' Ginny said, hurrying across the room, bending to kiss him. 'Minister Vlad was so kind as to bring me home.' She gestured to her escort, who stepped forward and shook the older man's hand.

'An honour, sir.'

Arthur Weasley's eyes suddenly and disconcertingly sharpened. 'And have you got to do with my daughter? I have left the Ministry.'

'Yes, yet your work still stands high in degree,' Draco said with a disarming smile. 'Your daughter found herself in difficulty when the storm hit. I simply helped her home. She hasn't been hurt.' His eyes flickered toward Ginny, standing silent beside her father.

'Minister Vladimir was the epitome of kindness,' she said quietly. 'And as you see, I am safe and sound. I've redeemed your Plato and Greek Mythology.' She placed the books on the table.

'Ah,' her father said, instantly distracted from whatever paternal anxieties had momentarily pierced his absorption. 'I have been at my wit's end without the Mythology. There's a reference I've been trying to chase up for this article...'

His voice faded to a murmur as he began to leaf through the volume. 'I believe it's in the sixth book... Ah, yes, here we are... Forgive me, sir... but this is urgent. My publishers await this article eagerly. Ginny will show you hospitality here. Oh, and Ginny, Ron is with Harry to work on his new art piece, he said not to wait up for him tonight.' He gestured vaguely with a thin but elegant hand before picking up his quill from the inkstand.

Draco accepted this as a dismissal and stepped back. He looked around the room again. The smell of boiling pudding wafted from below, and he saw the cracks in the walls, the broken leg of two straight backed chairs at the square table in the centre of the room, the cushion less sofa beside the fireplace, the cracked and grimy windowpanes. And he realized that the warmth of the fire was superficial, doing little to combat the bone-deep chill in the cheerless room.

Ginny had no illusions about her present lodging and met his returning gaze with a challenging defiance. He'd insisted on coming up, but she'd tolerate no pity from him.

Draco made no comment, however and walked to the door. 'I'll leave you now. I have to be somewhere at noon.'

So simple, so casual, so final. But what else had she expected? What else had she wanted?

'I'll accompany you to the car,' Ginny said formally.

'No, its alright, there's no point,' he returned. 'I can find my own way out.'

'I'm sure you can. Nevertheless, I am your hostess, whilst you are here, despite where I live.'

Draco made no answer to this challenging statement, merely walked ahead of her down the narrow stair case through the shop and out into the street.

'Goodbye.' Ginny gave him her hand. 'I should thank you, I imagine, but I'm at a loos to know what for, since you would have had no need to escort me home if you hadn't carried me off to Putney in the first place.'

'I'm not asking for a thank you,' he said solemnly, shaking her hand. 'On the contrary, I extend my own.' A raised eyebrow and a half smile left her in no doubt as to his meaning, but she wouldn't respond in kind, merely stepping back out of the road, waiting like a patient and polite hostess for him to depart.

The car bowled away down the narrow lane, and Ginny turned back to go indoor. Life had been boring before; now its bleakness mad her sadder. For a few amazing hours she'd participated in a shared dream, but it was over now. She had the memories, but in her present misery she knew they would torment her, rather then soothe.