The Wrath of Virginia

.:II:. Instinct

There are many ways to awaken a person; a little nudge or plugging one's nose until one gasps for air and wakes up. In the case of our to young heroes, a slap in the face is fine enough. For Draco Malfoy was happy enough lying there in the middle of the tracks without the pain setting in yet.

One more whollop and the young blond was on full alert. So has his instinct told him, he grabbed the wrist attached to that hand and twisted as hard as he could until heard that satisfying crack but as always in these situations that crack was followed by a shriek and a sharp kick where it hurts, for Draco. And like all males, his first impulse was to curl into a fetal position and moan. And so he proceeded.

"You unbearable, insufferable, intolerable git!" where had heard that before. "I pulled you off that ledge when you hit your head."

Oops.

"Who bloody slaps someone?" he croaked between moans.

The reply didn't come. And as the last wave of agony passed him, he cracked open his eyes. It was dark out, as there was no light except for the moon and the stars; it was pretty cold as well. And the fact that it was snowing didn't help.

Draco pulled himself up, careful not to lose his footing from the gaps between the wooden planks. It still hurt to stand though, but he brushed it away and stood tall. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness he could see her. Clutching her arm to her breast, and shaking. It was probably from the cold but Draco liked to think that he intimidated her.

"Bloody idiot," Weasley uttered. "Now what?"

"What do you mean 'now what'?" shot Draco. "The train's gone and we're about ten miles from where we just stopped, I'm going to find somewhere to stay and you--well, that's not my problem, is it?"

"But why did it suddenly break down?" she asked. "And why did it stop in t he first place?"

"I don't answer stupid questions," he said, turning around and walking the rest of the way down the bridge. But she wouldn't let him be.

"Of course you answer stupid questions," she shot. "you're with Crabbe and Goyle all the time,"

Draco was about to retort but then realized that she had a point. Her laugh stabbed his insides when he didn't answer quick enough. But he soon thought of something even better.

"Perhaps you've forgotten the Prefects Hand Guide," he could see her grin fading a few teeth. "All emergency stops requested by the Headmaster are to proceed with evacuation with escorts from all prefects,"

"But what about the Dementor thing?"

"That was because Dumbledore did request it nor was it an emergency,"

"Oh," Draco was still chuckling at that memory and Weasley's crestfallen expression. Things were looking up, except--

"Then why didn't you get off as well?"

"I was looking to see if there was anyone left on the train," but both Ginny and Draco broke into fits of laughter at that one.

"Oh yeah and Pansy is naturally blonde," laughed Weasley.

"Yeah--" Draco stood tall the same time Weasley did.

"No matter," Draco stiffened. He turned. "Write me a letter, Weasley, I'll be sure to burn it,"

"Wait," she was getting to sound desperate. "You can't just leave me out here,"

"Oh, I believe I can,"

"Come on,"

"You put up such a winning argument, but I must decline," this was fun.

"But where are you going," they were off the bridge now, pushing there way through the tall grass.

"My Father owns a small cottage about three miles from here." Oops, shouldn't have let that one slip.

"Great, but why don't you just Apparate there," she said.

"I can't Apparate without a--" his hand went to his pocket. His was still there. Weasley, perhaps by instinct, backed away when he pulled out his twelve-inch wand.

"Well, I've had dreadful time." He raised the wand above his head. Weasley ran towards him but it didn't matter, he would be gone before she reached him, according to his calculations. But as he finished the incantation, Weasley bounded headlong into him as they Disapparated together, both hopping they wouldn't be spilched or worse: fused together.

$

It was in the early hours of the morning when our two young heroes awakened and made sure they had not gotten any mutations from the sudden Apparation.

"You could have killed both of us," was Draco's morning greeting.

"I tripped," the red head retorted. "And I only bumped into you,"

"Well, I really don't care," Draco snapped, despite sleeping for the last six hours, he was beat. All he wanted was to drift off to sleep in the feather bed that was just inside the grey-stone cottage that stood before them. Draco hadn't actually been inside before, he just knew his father kept it for tax purposes, or so he said.

Draco's hand was mere inches from the brass doorknob when--

"Please," he turned around to see a desperate looking red head, nearly in tears. "Let me just stay the night so I can fix my arm, and I'll be off before morning," in her eyes it looked like she already knew the answer.

Draco turned his back to her and unlocked the door with "Alohomora". But when he tried the doorknob, it was still locked.

"Dammit," he grunted as he tried to dislodge the door from the frame with his shoulder. It wouldn't.

"Oh how very muggle of you," Weasley snorted. He whirled around. She wasn't laughing anymore. He was drained, worn and all he wanted was sleep, and this Weasel was mocking him? He just couldn't take it. His patience was running short.

"Now you listen, Weasley," he said with the tip of his wand less than an inch away from her throat. "You give one reason why I shouldn't curse you,"

"Uh, well I--"

"Three,"

"I could, um--"

"Two,"

Red sparks from the tip of his wand licked her neck.

"But I--"

"One, Cuci--"

"I could pick the lock for you," all he heard was "pick" and "lock".

"What was that, Weasel?" his grip on his wand loosened.

"I said," her shoulders relaxed. "I could pick the lock since you obviously can't get through the door,"

"What's the catch," he snapped.

"No catch," wait for it. "Just let me stay," there it was.

"Not just the night then?" he said lowering his wand.

"Take it or leave it," there was a ghost of a smile that played on her lips.

The deal wasn't that bad, her presence there was better than no entrance to the cottage at all. He could probably get her to clean up the place a bit.

"Fine," he said as he made his way down the stone path and to the wooden door. "But if you can't, then you can walk to Hogwarts in your drawers,"

"You wouldn't," Weasley spluttered.

"Oh, wouldn't I," he was smirking now.

Realization played upon her freckled face that perhaps he would.

$

What have our two heroes gotten themselves into? Will Ginny get the door open? And will Draco actually let her stay? Or will she go back to Hogwarts in her drawers? And what lies beyond the threshold of the cottage? Have Harry and the others taken note of Ginny's absence? What will Mr Malfoy do when he finds out his son is presumably dead? Only time will tell.

Tune in next time to The Wrath of Virginia wherever internet may be available.