An Open Field, Some Wildflowers

An Open Field, Some Wild Flowers

Part Two

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had spent the last hour looking for Ginny. She had been trembling like a bunny on a freeway during dinner, and had mysteriously disappeared afterward.

Now it was two hours past curfew and she was still missing. Which, in itself, was so very unlike quiet, 'Don't-mind-me-I-make-no-social-waves' Ginny. Usually, she was the one to herd everyone up into their dorms so that the Gryffindors wouldn't loose any points. That was Ginny--a real team player. But, as Ron had said while twisting a damp handkerchief in his hands, worrying over his only sister, Ginny had gone through serious depressions in the past, and only he and Charlie, her favorite brothers, could talk to her. Obviously, Ginny must have thought that whatever was on her mind was too serious to even confide in her brothers.

And that worried Ron. It worried him so much that he cried for the first time since he was four. The last time he had really sat down and had a good bawl was when Erin, the Weasley daughter two years younger than Ginny, had died an hour after being born. Ron had lost a sister, once.

And he was losing another.

Harry and Hermione had hurried out of the common room with the excuse that they were going to search the school for Ginny, and had left Ron alone with his thoughts and his tears.

Ron didn't even notice when someone quite out of place in the Gryffindor Tower had slipped into an oversized chair across from him; a pale and refined someone that was better fit in the dungeons.

"Could we have a bit of a chat, Weasley?" Draco Malfoy asked with a raised eyebrow.

*

Hermione had found her letter first. Somewhat ingeniously, Ginny had Charmed the bit of parchment to appear in Hermione's pocket exactly two hours after her death, which, of course, Draco had stopped. But the suicide letter had appeared, just the same.

Hermione, it began, in Ginny's immaculate, lady-like handwriting.

Please forgive me for leaving. I really had no other choice; I would have been expulsed from Hogwarts anyway. None of this is your fault. You're the sweetest, smartest person I've had the chance to know, and Ron and Harry are lucky to have you watching over them. Although, I will admit that I've been jealous of you for so many years. You're the perfect sort of person, and I hope that you make Harry happy.

I didn't, but he never really wanted me in the first place.

Do me a major favor and don't cry over me--it'll upset Ron even more. I do love my brother--take care of him for me, will you?

Love, Virginia Nacelle Weasley

Ginny

Harry found his letter as well; Hermione thought it was his horror at realizing sweet little Ginny had committed suicide that made him pale. But it wasn't that. His letter was painfully short, only one word, really. The moment he read that one word, written in blood-red ink, his heart stopped.

Why?

To anyone else, this would have been the oddest sort of last notice, but to Harry it hit home. Because, like Ginny, Harry remembered every second of The Spring Fling the seventh-years had planned. A little party to celebrate the new warmth and nice weather of early spring, and to hype themselves about the last bit of school they had to live through before graduation. He remembered drinking probably a bit too much with Ron, leaving the party, and finding Ginny alone in the tower. She hadn't gone to the Fling because she didn't have a boyfriend to escort her, and she didn't care much for parties, anyway.

And when he remembered what he had done after that, to Ginny, to his best friend's little sister, a lump formed in his throat and his stomach churned with guilt.

Harry, though, was more scared of being caught and expelled for it, than what he had done to an already-broken young girl. He had tried to push the thoughts from his mind, thinking that, perhaps, if he forgot entirely about it, nothing more would come from the matter. But of course, fate was never on his side.

*

Ron had always thought that if he ever found Draco Malfoy in Gryffindor Tower, he would go ballistic and curse the crud out of the snake. Actually, all he felt was a dull sort of 'oh' feeling. Oh, Draco Malfoy is in my common room. Oh, he looks like he wants to talk with me. Oh, joy. Just as Harry and Hermione had, Ron had found a long and elaborate note from Ginny saying how much she loved him. And that she planned to take her own life.

"Do you know where my sister is, Malfoy?" Ron asked, hearing the hoarseness of his own voice, broken and terse from crying. Draco didn't change expression.

"Virginia's alive, if that's what you're asking. I found her in the Prefects' Bathroom, Weasley, slashing her wrists." Ron's face clouded.

"Bloody Slytherin, if you left her--"

"Honestly, Weasley, I am a Slytherin, but I'm humane, you know. Did I leave her to bleed to death? Of course not. I healed her and she's asleep in my room, at the moment. She'll have to leave school, though." Ron felt suddenly dizzy.

"Leave...Hogwarts?"

"Ginny's pregnant, Weasley. Don't tell me Potter didn't tell you."

"Harry--"

"Ron, we didn't find Gin in the Astronomy Tower, either, but Peeves said there was a disturbance in the Prefects' Bathroom, so--What the hell? Malfoy, what do you think you're doing here?" Harry demanded as he stepped through the portrait hole. The first thing he saw upon entering was his best friend sitting across from his worst enemy, looking as if they'd been having a nice, brotherly sort of chat. Draco looked completely at ease, albeit a little out of place, in one of the scarlet over-stuffed chairs. The look Ron was giving him, though, was enough to make his blood run cold. When he spoke, Ron's voice was soft and pained.

"Was Hermione not enough for you, Harry? Why did you do it? My little sister...now she won't be able to finish Hogwarts and she'll never get her license as a witch. All because of you."

"What are you talking about, Ron?" Hermione asked, honestly confused.

"Look, I can explain--" Harry began, but stopped when Draco stood up. He straightened his robes.

"Leave your explanations for her parents, Potter. Now then, since we've only got five days left in our school year, I say we forget about this for a bit. Ginny has already agreed to spend the summer with me, at the mansion, and we'll see if we can't resolve this by then. I'll be going, now." And with that, Draco left the three Gryffindors.

It was at this moment; with Ron watching him with a look of anger, betrayal, and pain on his face that Harry knew their friendship would never be the same.

*

Draco had always been drilled by his father to hide pain, to shove his anger into a little box inside himself labeled "later". Which had created the aloof, stoic Malfoy the world saw. But sometimes...sometimes even Draco couldn't control the frenzied rages that took over all that cold intensity and turned it livid.

Now would be one of those times.

In a desperate attempt to not wake Ginny, he had cleared the Slytherin common room with a Malfoy Homicidal Glare TM and had seated himself in front of the fireplace, fuming.

How could Potter deal with himself? Did he just think 'hey, I'm the hero of the wizarding world, I can do whatever I want'?

"Bastard," Draco hissed between his teeth. With a rendering, shrieking crack, the mirror above the fire shattered. Draco blinked. Had his anger done that? Yes, it had. Why was he so angry? Because he lov--no, no, love is a bad word that Malfoys did not use under any circumstance. Anyway, Ginny...she couldn't love him back, even if he did have eensy-weensy, tiny, shoved-down almost-feelings for her. Maybe.

Ginny would never know that he had seen her pain as she struggled against tears in the Great Hall. She'd never known that he had broken a dozen rules by storming into the Prefects' bathroom under the password he had bribed out of Pansy Parkinson. She'd never know the feelings that had torn him apart inside at seeing her lifeless body crowned by a crimson halo. She'd never know the tears he had cried fighting to save the last threads of life that held her to earth.

All she'd know is that he had carried her back to his room in the Slytherin dungeon and watched over her as she slept. She knew he had saved her life. Something, maybe the fire or maybe some indescribable emotion, made his eyes burn.

Lucius, his father, had told him a strong man would shed blood rather than shed tears.

Hell with the strong man.

Apathetic, stoic Draco Malfoy crumpled, weeping as he had never before.

*

"Was Ron okay?" Ginny asked, sitting up. She was feeling better and was determined to move around a bit, despite Draco strictly telling her to rest. Blood loss, and all that.

"Weasley is fine," Draco replied casually, tossing some robes at her. "You should get dressed." Ginny took the robe carefully--it was Draco's, and far too big for her, but his care touched her. He had, in fact dressed her already in one of his old shirts while she was asleep. It was huge on her, the hem coming down to mid-thigh and the sleeves at least four inches too long, but it smelled of him and she found that somewhat comforting. Draco was watching her steadily with his ever-so-sharp gaze, and she knew there was something he wanted to talk to her about, but was trying to think up the right way to ask.

"What is it?" Ginny asked, beating him to the punch. Ever modest, even after everything, Ginny turned her back to him while she wriggled out of the oversized t-shirt and into her borrowed robes.

"Well I--um," It was odd, listening to the ever-suave Draco Malfoy struggle for words. "Do you really love Potter?" Ginny paused.

"I...don't know, anymore. I know I did love him, at some point, but only because I thought him some sort of wonderful hero on his big white horse, ready to save any damsel in distress. I always held out hope that he'd decide Hermione was a better friend than lover, and turn to me." Her voice turned bitter. "Yeah, he turned to me, all right. Only he was drunk and didn't care at all who he was doing it with."

"He should, though," Draco said softly. "You're special, Ginny." Ginny could feel the blush creep into her cheeks as Draco sat down next to her on the bed.

"You're crazy," Ginny replied. Something that hadn't really occurred to Draco before struck him, then: she really didn't see herself as beautiful. Which she was. Ravishingly so. Even in hugely oversized borrowed robes, her curls mussed appallingly around her sweet, heart-shaped face, Ginny was beautiful.

And then he did something most surprising.

Draco took a hairbrush from the bedside table, and, gently, worked the knots from her long, red hair. It was so relaxing, feeling the rhythmic strokes, and his hands as they touched her.

"Your hair's exquisite, Ginny," he said. "It reminds me of gold, and sunset." Something in her, probably her heart, gave an awful twist.

"Tom said that to me, once." Draco immediately stopped and sat back, looking aggrieved.

"I'm sorry," he said quickly. "I didn't mean to--"

"No, no, it's okay," Ginny insisted, touching his arm. "Really, I...was enjoying it."

"Oh." Draco seemed surprised, and when he brushed a curl from the back of her neck, she could feel him trembling. What was he so afraid of? "I'm really sorry. It's just that you're the most beautiful girl in school, and I--oh God, I sound like a little boy confessing his first crush." Ginny looked at him over her shoulder.

"Are you?"

"I, uh...yes. I-I mean, no, no. I...can't."

"Why can't you?" Draco gave her a long, perusing look.

"Why do you keep asking so many fucking questions?" Ginny grinned angelically, and Draco was struck by the fact that he had not seen her smile, at least not like that, in several months. Hmm. He'd have to ponder that, later.

"I have six elder brothers, Malfoy," she replied, braiding her now-gleaming red hair so that it fell in a long rope down the middle of her curved back. She looked much better, he thought, as if some small sliver of the happy girl she had once been was haunting the shell she was now. Yes, a shell was a good way to describe Ginny; beautiful on the outside, hollow within, and ever-so-fragile. Easily crushed. Ginny got to her feet and stole the chair beside Draco. The borrowed robes showed most of her smooth freckled shoulders and the top of her chest--Draco adverted his eyes and swallowed hard. He would not allow himself to think like that. The last thing he wanted to do was to get carried away and hurt her, just as Harry had done and Tom before him. Ginny watched him quizzically. Her smaller hand brushed his and Draco shivered. Nobody, any time, any where, had ever effected him quite like innocent little Ginny did.

"What are you doing?" Ginny asked quietly. "Are you brooding again?"

"Malfoys do not brood," Draco said. "We have deep, thoughtful sort of thoughts. Brooding is for angsty Ravenclaws and idiotic Gryffindors," he colored, realizing what he had said. "I-I mean, Gryffindors are great, 'cause you're a Gryffindor, and, uh..."

Ginny did the last thing he would ever had expected. Quickly, she stopped his ranting by sealing his lips with hers. At first he stiffened, then he melted utterly into the kiss. Draco, as common belief held, was a very GOOD kisser. He was a Malfoy, dammit, they all were good kissers. Before ten seconds had passed, he had her braid undone and his hands in her silky hair, and her--actually, they were his--robes slid off her shoulders. Surprisingly, Ginny wasn't the sweet bunny he had thought she was. In fact, she had his shirt half-unbuttoned already. Whoa. Maybe those Gryffindors weren't as clueless as he had taken them for. After a moment, though, she gently nibbled his lower lip, her eyes gleaming mischievously at him.

"I'm not ready, yet," she whispered, her voice trembling slightly. Okay, so perhaps Ginny did have eensy-weensy, teeny-tiny, squashed-down feelings for him too. "By the way," Ginny kissed him again, along his jaw. "your fly's undone."

"Bugger it," Draco whispered back, and they slid to the floor. At that time, Draco was quite glad he had worn his lucky boxers that morning; the ones with the rubber duckies. They had worked pretty well, if he did say so himself. Draco sat back on his heels as Ginny giggled madly at him; she had just realized that he had her plum-flavored lip gloss all over his face in purple nibble-marks. His hair was messed up in silver cow-licks and she found it rather endearing. Ginny sat up as he started chuckling along with her, ducking his head as tears welled up in his eyes.

"Are you okay?" Ginny asked, scooting up to him and brushing away his tears with the corner of her robe. "Don't cry, Draco, don't cry! I didn't mean to hurt you--did I?" Draco found himself struggling to breathe, never had so many conflicting emotions welled up inside him. Never had he been forced to deal with something within him rather than something outside him, something he could control. And this gasping constriction in his chest that choked everything further was both confusing and painful at the same time.

"What's wrong?" Ginny pressed, her doe-brown eyes full with worried emotion.

"Don't...know," Draco gasped, clutching at his chest. Ginny tugged at his arm, getting him to stand.

"C'mon, you need to lie down a bit," she told him, pressing him down on the bed and pulling the covers up to his chin. He had stopped with the tears, but he was now shaking uncontrollably. "Calm down, calm down," she gently whispered, brushing a stray strand of silver hair from his equally mercury eyes. Shaking, his breath hitching, and pale as fine vellum, Draco had taken a three-eighty turn from being passionately on fire to...whatever was wrong with him now.

"You aren't ill, are you?" Ginny asked, taking his hand and squeezing it to reassure him.

"H-happens sometimes," he admitted between wheezes. "Since I was...young..."

"Draco, put your hands above your head," Ginny told him quickly, and helped him to do so. He seemed doubtful and confused, but he did as she asked. "I know what's wrong--Percy has the same problem. Muggles call it asthma. It's where your lungs have problems with oxygen when you get too excited or over-worked." she explained, then grinned. "Percy used to have asthma attacks all the time when he was stressing over his cauldron-bottom reports and such. Do you have your wand with you? I left mine in the Prefects' bathroom." Draco nodded slightly--having his hands up did help him breathe a bit.

"Bottom--bottom drawer, Gin." Ginny shuffled through his things--he wondered a little idly if she was looking through his chocolate frog card collection or even if she had found his embarrassing baby pictures hidden under the Unfogging the Future textbook. He hated Divination, and he thought the dropped class book was serving a good purpose. Fortunately, Ginny didn't see any of that--she touched his wand to his chest, already bare because of his unbuttoned shirt. The constriction lessened, and Draco took a deep, grateful breath.

"Thank you," he sighed, sitting up.

"You're lucky I was here," Ginny chided, playing with a lock of his silvery hair.

"I wouldn't have had the attack if you hadn't started that big...scene," he replied primly.

"And you didn't enjoy it?" Draco grinned crookedly.

"I never said that," he said with a blissful smile. "But you said you weren't ready, and you're not." Ginny snorted and re-braided her hair.

"How do you know if I'm ready for it or not? I do like you, Draco, and you saved my life."

"Ginny." Draco sighed and shook his head. "Have you noticed anything wrong with you lately? It doesn't matter or not if you love me--which, don't get me wrong, is...uh, amazing, I guess--but I can't do anything with you. I don't want to hurt you, Gin." Her amber eyes clouded with confusion.

"How would you...hurt me?" Draco gently took Ginny's hand in his.

"Ginny, you're...pregnant. I'm sorry--it was Potter and I--" Now it was Ginny's turn for her eyes to fill with tears.

"A baby," she whispered. "Harry..." Oddly enough, Draco felt a hot, angry sort of protectiveness wash over him; he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as she cried.

"I will never allow him near you," he said fiercely. "Never. I'm going to protect you, Ginny. Don't worry."

"I can come back to the Malfoy Manor with you, can't I?" she asked, sniffling uncontrollably. Draco gave her braid a gentle and brotherly tug; she buried her face in his chest and he stroked her scarlet head.

"Of course, of course, I already told you you're more than welcome...since Father was taken to Azkaban and mother died, I've been...alone. It's so quiet when you're alone." Ginny nodded and played with his shirt's buttons.

"I know. Everything echoes and there isn't anything but your thoughts, and it's...awful. You don't need to be alone, Draco." Draco smiled down at her.

"I don't intend to be alone again. Never again."

Imbrium: End for now, guys. Maybe a sequel is in order? Hmm...*Imbri broods because she is a Gryffindor and therefore capable of brooding* You'll have to pin me down and tickle me if you want to see what Ginny's baby's like...and if Draco takes responsibility for our little friends...

*Cackles*

*Coughs*

Ahem. Well, I'm sorry it's taken me so long...technical difficulties and all that. You know the drill--review if you want more, or forever hold thou peace or whatnot. Luvs,

Imbrium Iridum