White Noise

Chapter 7: The Evolution of Things

"Who was that, Harry?" Ginny asked casually, but curiously. She hadn't recognized the tall, cloaked figure.

Harry physically bristled. "Never mind."

***

Long after those horrifying tears had dried, Ginny lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling of her room, trying to recall everything she had remembered from that last night.

She didn't remember any new details, but what she did figure out was that she was still hurt over their last conversation. Ginny couldn't believe there was something he wouldn't tell her. Somehow, she felt betrayed by her husband: she had told him everything, why didn't he have the same decency?

Ginny was lying in the same position, thinking the same thoughts, when the sun finally broke through the horizon.

She rose unceremoniously and went downstairs to the little nook where breakfast was served without showering, or even dressing properly. She went down wearing pajama bottoms and a white tank top, her feet clad in fluffy bedroom slippers.

Her partner was down there already, absently thumbing through what appeared to be a Muggle magazine. Ginny was positive he had no interest in the goings on of their Muggle counterparts and despised him for putting on such a sham.

She avoided him at all costs, even going as far as where the sausage links were to put them on her plate. She did not like sausage links, but the things she liked--ham and cheese omelets, buttery biscuits and breakfast fruit cups--were all placed near Draco.

While she was eating, she was aware of Draco's eyes on her. She could feel him following her with every move she took, in the way her skin prickled and the nape of her neck was hot. It was disconcerting, knowing there was someone observing her every motion. She almost wished she'd dressed more appropriately or at the very least, showered.

Finally, she was irritated enough to turn around and face him. "What do you want?" she asked coldly.

Draco sat there, looking cool, calm and collected as ever. Then he shrugged. "Nothing."

She felt his eyes graze her body. Gooseflesh rose along her arms and body; she suddenly felt more alive than she had in a long time.

Before she even realized he had been standing, Draco was sitting in the seat next to her. "You and I need to talk," he stated lowly.

Ginny shook her head, feeling dumb about the way she had acted last night. It hurt her to admit it, but she did. "I don't want you to tell me anything you aren't supposed to, Draco." She looked him directly in the eye. "I understand your job. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble," she said, a feeble smile playing on her lips.

He sipped his tea and looked at her over the rim of the teacup. "Oh? I would have thought you would love to see me in trouble."

In spite of herself, she giggled, albeit she was quick to cover her mouth. "No, no I don't. I used to, perhaps, but not now," she admitted.

The corners of his eyes crinkled in what she had come to know as his 'smile.' She smiled in return, thinking he was nice looking when the corners of his mouth tipped up. "Fair enough," he replied evenly.

She smiled, looking down at her plate. For some reason, she couldn't let him see her smile.

"Ginny, I'd like to take a walk with you."

Her head snapped up and her eyebrow rose questioningly. "Um, have you seen the way I'm dressed?"

"I'll wait for you to get ready. We've got time," he replied nonchalantly. "You aren't going to take all day, are you?" he warned irritably.

She felt a bit of that famous temper rise in her body and did her best to suppress it. She didn't want to be angry with him. It took too much energy from her.

"Yes, of course," she answered.

Ginny scooted the chair back and it made a scraping noise against the hardwood floor. "I'll be just a minute." She managed to get halfway through the breakfast area before glancing back at her partner.

He had picked up the Muggle newspaper he'd brought with him and was thumbing through the stories at a slow speed. Ginny wasn't sure, but she thought she felt a small smile tug at her lips.

He wasn't at all like he had been at Hogwarts. Somehow, he seemed...kind, like a real person.

She shook her head to dislodge her thoughts and turned to go on her way. She only had a few minutes before he would be expecting her.

***

Draco watched her go with mixed feelings. On the one hand, he knew he had some explaining to do; on the other, he and Potter had made a pact of sorts. These days, Draco wasn't the type to break a business agreement.

And so, he waited for her in the tiny, yet comfortable, foyer.

He was impatient waiting for her and ended up pacing the small lobby area. He would have picked up a newspaper to read, but he'd read through the Muggle weekly in less than ten minutes, having given up out of boredom. And to read the Daily Prophet would have been implausible at the Muggle Bed and Breakfast.

So deep in thought he was, Draco didn't notice Ginny come down the stairs until she was standing in front of him, looking at him in amusement.

"What are you doing?" she asked, a hint of a tease in her voice.

He looked at her then, first noticing the little diamonds sparkling in her ears and then noticing how the shirt she had put on clung to curves he'd rather not think about.

She had married Potter, for Merlin's sake!

"Waiting for you!" he snapped back cantankerously.

Her smile wavered and Draco found himself wondering what it was she was thinking.

"Yes, well I'm here now," she replied, her smile returning.

He struggled to find a biting remark and luckily, Ginny saved him from having to say anything. "You wanted to go on a walk, Draco?" she hedged.

Draco nodded numbly, still trying to get used to hearing his name on her lips. "Yes, of course," he said finally. "There are some things I need to tell you."

Sometime during the night, he had decided that he would tell her what Harry was involved with and why he had been speaking with him. He didn't know yet how much of all that he would reveal to her, only that she needed to know the gist.

"...you're starting to treat me like a witness. Don't do that to me Draco. Please?" Her words played and replayed in his head all night so much that by the morning, he wasn't sure if she had actually said them or if he had made them up.

Then, every time he was sure telling her was the right thing, another voice warned him lowly to not do it. Whatever it was. "...Ginny is part of the investigation."

As they walked out the door, Draco looked down at her from the corner of his eye. If he hadn't known her, if he was only passing her on the street, he would never have guessed she was recently widowed. It was a disarming fact.

She appeared cool and calm, collected beyond the point of reasoning, but he'd also seen her weepy and unsure of herself. Draco found this fascinating and also terrifying about her, although he would never admit it.

He had grown up in a home where only the strongest survived. There was no place for weakness under his father's roof and although this did not make it a terrible place to live and learn in, it was not the best either.

When his father was sent away to Azkaban, Narcissa hadn't batted an eyelash. She had been preparing for his arrest for months, for ages even. And although he hadn't seen her in eight or so years, Draco was sure she hadn't cried once for her lost husband. He was sure she remained as stoic and stony as ever.

Draco motioned for Ginny to follow him into a tiny park between a grove of trees and a small pond. When they reached the grove, Ginny sat in the little concrete bench that was hidden there; Draco leaned against the strong trunk of the closest tree.

They were silent, letting the leaves rustling in peace.

Draco was openly watching her, taking in the features that made her, her. Her hair, he noticed, was up in a haphazard bun and long tendrils of reddish-gold hair were falling out, just begging to be brushed back. He ignored any urges he had and started to speak on the matter at hand.

Before he even started, Ginny interrupted him. "I meant what I said earlier, Draco: I don't want you to tell me anything you can't. I understand; you have your obligations, just as I have mine."

He shook his head. Since the end of his sixth year, Draco had felt the need to prove he was different from his father. That was why he was standing across from Potter's widow: it was something his father would never do, not without the Killing Curse on his lips.

"We'll be going back to London tomorrow," he said easily enough. "Dakotah contacted me this morning," he explained.

Ginny nodded. "That's fine. I'm looking forward to being in my own bed."

"I imagine we'll have to travel another couple of times."

"So I figured."

Their conversation seemed contrived, to Draco's ears. There were other, more important things to be discussed. There would be time to discuss work later.

An awkward silence fell over them.

"Why did you bring me out here, Draco?" she finally queried. Her eyes sparked with interest and curiosity and he was acutely aware of the chance he was taking in telling her the truth.

As was his nature, he did not 'beat around the bush,' but got to his point quickly. "What if I told you Potter's death was not the accident it was made out to be?"

He watched her swallow, could hear the hitch in her breath and somehow he felt her pain. "I would say that it doesn't surprise me," she finally made out. Her words were careful and her voice sounded automatic.

Draco stayed quiet, allowing time for her to ask the questions she surely had.

"Do you know why?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. How much should he tell her? "Not exactly," he replied, deciding this was the safest answer.

She tilted her head to the side, looking contemplative. "I-I don't know what to say," she admitted helplessly.

He only looked at her.

"So it was you I saw Harry talking to the night before he died?" she asked, bringing about their conversation from last night.

Draco nodded shortly.

"But why?"

"I'm not at liberty to say," he responded routinely.

She smiled contemptuously. "So then, you'll tell me my husband was murdered, but you won't tell me why you were talking to him the night before he died?"

"What do you want me to say?" he snarled, irritated that she was being so damn persistent about that night.

"How about the truth!" she yelled back.

"And what's the truth, Weasley? Do tell," he mocked. "Since you seem to know why I was talking with him, why don't you tell me?"

"I would, except that I don't know what the truth is!" she exclaimed darkly. "Why the hell are we here Malfoy?" she asked, changing the direction of their argument immensely.

"Because our bosses sent us here," he answered, boredom apparent in the way he held his upper body.

"That's not what I meant! What I meant is why are we here? There wasn't a murder here and the one that was, was closed two years ago. What the hell are we doing here?" she repeated, her words tripping over an excited breath.

"We're doing our jobs."

She sucked in a deep breath. "Like hell we are." She shot to her feet and started to move away from him, but he reached for her and grabbed the sleeve of her shirt.

"We're not done here."

Ginny looked at him angrily. She looked at him as if she had never hated anyone more. "Oh yes, Malfoy, we are very much so done. You're not telling me anything and I can't stand to look at you anymore. I want to go home," she said rather petulantly.

She pulled out of his grasp, breaking free and began stalking off.

Before he could consider what the next words to come out of his mouth would actually sound like, he said them. "I suppose you used to quit on your husband too, then? Well, I wouldn't expect anything more than that from a Weasley."

She stopped cold. Her shoulders were shaking from the tension. "If I were you Malfoy I would learn to stay the hell out of other people's business, lest you want to be castrated," she threatened.

Draco didn't stop her this time.

***

Late the next evening, Ginny stepped into her flat feeling peaceful and calm. She was finally away from that git!

She started unpacking immediately, as it was her least favorite job to do and she wanted to get it done with. Within five minutes, there was a knock at her door. "Come in!" she hollered, figuring it would be Ron or Hermione, or possibly both.

Hermione poked her head into the bedroom. "You must have just gotten back."

Ginny nodded, but didn't look at her; she continued to unpack instead.

Hermione came further into her friend's room and sat on the bed, watching Ginny as she methodically sorted her laundry by colors. "Ron insisted I come into town today, just to make sure you came back. I think he was afraid Malfoy would kidnap you or something," she said jokingly.

Ginny sighed absently and threw one of her shirts over her shoulder. She still did not say anything.

"Ginny? Are you O.K.?" Hermione asked finally.

The redheaded woman slumped down on the bed next to Hermione. "He is so awful, Hermione," she admonished.

Hermione's brows crinkled together. "Ron or Malfoy?"

Ginny rubbed her face wearily. "Well, both... but I was referring to Malfoy." Ginny could physically feel her energy draining from her body, just thinking about Malfoy.

"What happened? He didn't try anything on you, did he?"

Although she would have liked to have lied, just to see Hermione hex him into next week, she told the truth. "No, of course not. He didn't try anything other than to piss me off, in which case he was a grand success. The asshole," she added irritably.

Hermione put her arm around Ginny's shoulders and gave her a comforting squeeze. "You didn't have to use you bat-bogey hex on him, did you?" she teased.

Ginny chuckled despite herself. "No, but had I done it, he surely would have deserved it."

She continued to put away her clothing, and Hermione helped her. "Did you stop at your office then?" she asked.

"Yes, I did. I spoke with Dakotah and Les; they mentioned something about a ball...?"

Hermione uh-hummed as she went to pick up the shirt Ginny had thrown on the floor. "A Gala, actually, put on by Hogwarts, as a nod of acknowledgement to all the witches and wizards who fought in the battle eight years ago. It is, after all, the eighth anniversary of Voldemort's defeat," she said pointedly.

Ginny bit her lip, embarrassed that she had forgotten the anniversary was coming up soon.

Hermione seemed rather oblivious to this though and continued rambling on about the Gala. "Ron and I will be going, of course. Your parents, too. I ran into Parvati at St. Mungo's--she mentioned going and she said Seamus and Dean would be there too," she added happily.

"Well, I'm not going," Ginny announced resolutely.

Hermione stared at her unbelievingly. "But...you have to."

"No I don't," she argued, slightly irritated that Hermione thought she had to go anywhere.

"Yes, you do," Hermione stated a bit more forcefully.

Ginny gave her sister-in-law a strange look. "Why would I have to go?"

"Because you're Harry Potter's wife," Hermione pointed out simply, as if that explained everything.

"Um, no, Hermione, I'm not. I'm Harry Potter's widow," she said, feeling cross now.

She could see Hermione bristle under her gaze.

"Well?"

Hermione was still looking at her dumbfounded. "Well what?" she said finally.

"Well what does being Harry Potter's widow have anything to do with anything?"

Hermione stood up. "It has everything to do with why you should be there. Harry was the most loved, most recognized wizard of all times and you were married to him! You can't just not go to an event designed to celebrate the victory over Voldemort!" she explained passionately.

"Thank you for reminding me, Hermione. I'd forgotten." Ginny's voice had grown dark and sad.

To her credit, Hermione looked genuinely distressed. "I'm sorry, Gin. I didn't mean to be so...crass. Of course we'll all understand if you don't want to go," she said, backpedaling fast.

Ginny forced a small smile. "Yes, of course, Hermione. I know. I'm just tired is all," she lied.

Hermione kissed Ginny on the cheek. "I told Ron you'd be tired and just want to go to bed, but you know how your brother is: he never listens."

She smiled fondly and mouthed a thank you.

"I'll let myself out," she said to Ginny. "You get some rest."

***

She felt his fingers run down her bare back and she shivered. She'd never felt like this before.

He lowered his mouth to kiss her as she arched her back to meet him halfway. She kissed him hard, wrapping her arms around him to bring him closer to her.

His hands cupped her breast and her breath momentarily slipped. It had never felt this way before, being with a man.

As their lips met again, she heard a voice calling out to her. Harry.

Ginny's eyes popped open.

Her alarm clock was buzzing.

She picked up the clock and threw it across the room, annoyed that she was interrupted from a phenomenal dream (one that was better than her current reality) only to go to work. Then she took a deep breath to calm her frayed nerves before turning over to begin her day again.