Our Winter

~

Chapter 9: Rivers Frozen

"This is our winter and we are rivers frozen;

Too much wisdom has consumed the flame;

When I was innocent;
There was magic in your name" - Fred Johnston

~

For a moment, Ginny couldn't remember where she was. Blinking her eyes open sleepily, she saw green velvet all around her, felt the heavy weight of an arm draped over her hips, and thought, Draco. A vague sense of unease overtook her, some unsettling remnant floating about her subconscious, but after a moment, that too, passed, and she was left only with a battle to wakefulness.

As she fought the pull of sleep, she recalled the storm, and Draco's insistence that she stay with him; wondered if it had rained again this past night. Just as she was noticing that her body felt heavier and lighter, sore and invigorated, tingling and still, all at once, Draco stirred behind her, pressed an absentminded kiss to her nape and Ginny suddenly remembered everything.

Suddenly, it was all too much -- the way his arm felt, the way she remembered how he'd felt -- OhGodohGodohGod -- what had she been thinking last night? Had she gone mad? Surely there was some kind of condition. Perhaps she needed to spend some time at St. Mungo's because something was definitely wrong with her, given that she'd laid her heart and her body open wide for Draco Malfoy and--

--had he told her, in the vaguest way possible, of course, that he loved her?

"You awake, brat?" he whispered against her ear, his breath puffing against her skin in the most delicious way.

Meaning to say 'Good morning' or something of the like, she was shocked when the only phrase that left her mouth was a rather desperate, "Do you love me?"

His body tensed a little. "What?" he asked, in a very deliberate tone.

Closing her eyes, Ginny rolled over until she was facing him. Not opening her eyes, she asked again, "Do you love me?"

He was still so tense, and it took her a moment to realize that tenseness was due to the fact that he was trying not to laugh in her face. Opening her eyes wide, she smacked him, hard, in the center of his chest.

"It's not funny!" she shouted in the loudest whisper she could manage.

"It is," he said around a snicker, "the way you said it . . . the look on your face . . ."

"Stop it!" she insisted, trying not to laugh herself.

"Silly, stupid girl," he murmured, a second before he kissed her, stealing her irritation along with her breath. His hands on her back and in her hair were gentle, and she bit back a sob when she felt him shudder against her.

Her eyelids fluttered shut of their own volition and the back of her throat grew tight with emotion. She hadn't really expected him to answer her, to give her the words. Some part of her believed he did love her. He certainly held her as if he did. And then there was the way he kissed her, as though he could not bear the thought of no longer touching her, as if she were air and water to him. There was such a quiet desperation about him that she was filled with real fear for the first time since her association with Draco Malfoy had begun: there were no storms in sight, so what did Draco have to fear?

A knot had formed inside her chest and it was pushing against her heart, causing it to ache with knowledge she did not yet possess. If the way Draco was holding her was any indication, he felt it, too. Last night, he had claimed himself unable to make her any promises, and she hadn't cared then, hadn't wanted anything but to be with him completely, even if it was for only a night. Now, though, knowing what it could be like between them, she'd become greedy. She didn't want to give him up, not ever, but was also unsure how to broach the subject. If this was to be the only morning they would wake up together, she wanted it to be perfect.

"What's today?" she whispered in the dim quiet of the little cocoon they'd built around themselves.

"Saturday," he replied, his voice equally hushed, their foreheads touching gently.

"No classes," she declared with a wide smile.

"No classes," he agreed, and if she'd thought him afraid before, she sensed a lingering sadness clinging to him now. It was clinging to her as well, and she didn't know how to combat it. She only knew that she had to try.

"Last night was . . ." Her brain began to short circuit when she tried to find words that described what the past night had meant to her. Trivial sentiments like 'lovely' and 'wonderful' and 'fun' and 'amazing' flitted through her mind, then were easily discarded. He had become a part of her last night; how on earth could a girl be expected to express that properly?

"I never . . ." He actually blushed a little, and it delighted her to learn that he could. "I never really knew it would be like that. I mean, I knew I'd be great, of course, but I never really realized that . . . we could be great. Together. Never realized it was quite such a team sport."

"Me neither," she said softly.

"Really?" He started stroking the curve of her hip with the tips of his fingers. "I thought girls had these sort of first time moments all mapped out from beginning to end in some sort of perfect romance novel fantasy."

"We do," Ginny confirmed quietly, not looking at him. "It's just that . . . you don't really think the fantasy is real. You hope, but . . . it's never supposed to live up to the fantasy. It's certainly never supposed to be better than . . ." She began gnawing on her lip again, wishing she didn't sound so inexperienced. She wanted to be worldly and wonderful for him, and instead, she could barely string together the words to tell him what he meant to her.

"Better, eh?" he said, looking infinitely pleased with himself.

Unable to resist, she rolled her eyes. "Yes, Draco, you're a sex God, you rocked me and . . ." The smile slowly left her face and she heaved a huge, rueful sigh. "And I'll never be the same again. Happy?"

"Yes, actually," he answered seriously. "I think for the first time in my whole life, I actually am."

The mood around them had turned playful, and Ginny welcomed it. Raising her eyebrows at him, she leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of his nose, then the curve of his jaw.

"I bet I can make you a tiny bit happier," she whispered.

"I bet there's no way in hell I'd bet against you," he groaned as her hand slipped beneath the covers bunched at his waist.

Later, as she lay with her cheek pressed to his stomach, a sense of awe overtook her.

"Is it always like this?" she wondered quietly.

She couldn´t see his face, but she felt the smile in his words. "I'll have to pay close attention next time to see."

~

"Ginny, are you . . . skipping?" a fifth year girl asked her as she left the Gryffindor common room.

"If I am," Ginny called over her shoulder as the Fat Lady began closing the portrait hole behind her, "I've earned it!"

Humming under her breath, Ginny headed to the library. She had to put in some time today for a test Professor Bins was having on Monday, and after that, she was going to meet Draco by the lake.

Both of them had been unwilling to leave the warmth and safety of his bed earlier, but the thought of being discovered by a gaggle of drooling Slytherin boys spurred them on. They'd shared a dozen kisses as they dressed and it had taken all the willpower she possessed to leave him.

The library was packed (Final N.E.W.T. examinations began on Monday) with seventh years. A table of Ravenclaws looked like they'd been there all day, half eaten sandwiches and the like scattered about their books. Ginny found an empty table in the corner, set her bag down on a chair, then went looking for the books on Professor Bins' list.

She'd been studying for nearly half an hour when someone tapped her on the shoulder.

"This seat taken?" Kyle McGraw asked, a tiny, hopeful smile on his face.

"It is now," Ginny replied, genuinely happy to see him. Or maybe it was just that she was genuinely happy today, in general.

"I just wanted to make sure things were all right between us," he said as he took a seat. "I'd really hate for there to be any . . . awkwardness."

"There isn't," Ginny assured him, "so long as we both agree that we're just friends."

"True blue and no funny business whatsoever," Kyle agreed. "Besides, you've got the last empty table here." They exchanged smiles, and Kyle started setting up his own studying material. They read in silence for a few minutes until Ginny felt someone approach the table.

"Hi, hi, sorry I'm late."

Ginny looked up to find a lovely girl in front of her. "You're not late, I was early," she heard Kyle say. "Ginny, this is Lysandra Burns, Lys, this is Ginny Weasley."

"Hi," Ginny said, smiling a little at the way Lysandra placed a possessive hand on Kyle's shoulder, while the other rifled through the book bag balanced on her hip. Ginny recognized Lysandra now; she was a Hufflepuff, also in her sixth year, taking a lot of the same classes as Kyle. The Hufflepuffs and the Gryffindors only shared one class together this year -- Professor Bins'. "Come to study until your brains fall out?"

"Hopefully nothing so drastic," Lysandra said, triumphantly removing a quill from her book bag, then taking a seat beside Kyle. "I'm just hoping to study hard enough to pass." She made a 'oh, yeah' gesture with her hands. "The reason I was late was that I couldn't bear to leave the show we had over lunch."

"What show?" Ginny asked curiously.

"That new girl, Ezra Whatsherfuck? She and Seamus Finnigan had a huge row halfway through lunch."

"What about?" Now, Ginny was concerned for her friend.

"Don't know," Lysandra said, pouting a little. "They were arguing in those very loud whispers where you can't understand a bloody word they're saying, only that it's no good."

"The floor show certainly explains why you were late," Kyle noted.

"I thought I wasn't late," Lysandra mentioned with a smile. Kyle grinned back and Ginny restrained the urge to barf. It wasn't jealousy -- they were just sickening.

"I'm surprised either of us got here," Kyle said, "what with how mad this place is."

"Did you run into a feuding couple, too?" Ginny wondered.

"Nope. Just an insane maniac," Kyle said ruefully. "I know he's a . . . friend of yours or something, Gin, but someone really should put a muzzle on Draco Malfoy. Guy's got a screw loose."

"You ran into Draco?" Ginny sat up straighter in her seat.

"More like he ran into me," Kyle corrected. "He was muttering something under his breath, looked really brassed off. Told me to watch where I was going. Asked me where you were, actually. Told him he'd probably find you here."

"How did you know where I'd be?" Ginny asked crossly.

"You're putting me on, right?" Kyle said slowly. "Everyone in the whole bloody school is here, or will be before the day is done. Half of us have N.E.W.T.s and O.W.L.s, and the other half are working on what I've heard are the most stressful finals Hogwarts has ever had. Haven't you been hearing what people are saying?"

"No?" Ginny said helplessly. In truth, unless it had to do with Draco, she hadn't been listening or worrying over much lately.

"All the teachers are worried," Lysandra confided. "There's something coming. Professor Dumbledore's had portents or something." She sighed. "I really hope whatever it is doesn't interfere with the Quidditch World Cup. Ireland really has a shot this year."

"Not once Scotland is through with them," Kyle muttered.

"You and your Scottish pride," Lysandra said, waving a hand at him. "I'm not even Irish -- I just root for the best team."

"Oh come off it," Kyle said, "if Manchester were in the running, you'd knock the Irish Seeker in front of a train."

"Listen, why don't I leave you two alone," Ginny interrupted, gathering her books together. Her mind was scrambling to figure out what had happened to Draco between the time that she'd left him, to when he ran into Kyle. Perhaps he'd gotten an owl from his father. Draco never had told her what he was so bothered by, come to think of it.

"Are you sure?" Kyle said doubtfully. "We've got a lot yet to study for--"

"Positive," Ginny said, pasting a bright smile onto her face. "You two have fun."

Hurrying out of the library, Ginny thought back to what Kyle had said about telling Draco where she was. Did he . . . did he think she was meeting Kyle behind his back? It was ridiculous, Draco wasn't that insecure, but . . . if something else was bothering him, something to do with his father, it was possible he'd blown something perfectly innocent out of proportion. Another thought occurred to her -- what if Draco had come by the library after his run-in with Kyle, then seen them together?

He'd gotten so jealous the last time, so irrational. And that had been before they'd slept together. Picking up her pace, Ginny racked her brain, trying to figure out where Draco might have gone.

~

An hour later and Ginny was no closer to finding Draco. He wasn't in the Slytherin common room and he wasn't down by the lake. The Quidditch pitch was empty and she couldn't very well ask people milling about the halls if they'd seen him, since everyone was in the library. She had even sucked up the courage to ask Professor Snape if he'd seen Draco -- no, of course, but he had looked at her suspiciously for asking.

The dining hall had been nearly empty, and Ginny had stopped for a few moments to eat something -- she hadn't done so since lunch the day before and she'd do Draco no good if she passed out. While she was there, a nervous Ravenclaw first year spilled blood pudding all over Ginny's robes and it had taken a considerable amount of restraint not to unload all her worry and frustration on the poor girl.

Hurrying up to Gryffindor Tower to change, Ginny spotted Hermione exiting the portrait hole that housed the Fat Lady, who seemed to be missing.

"Herm," Ginny called, "hold that painting!"

Hermione looked confused for a moment, then noticed the Fat Lady's absence. "Sorry," she muttered, "bit distracted, I'm afraid."

"Anything to do with the rumors I've been hearing about Dumbledore's portents?" Ginny wondered.

"Oh dear," Hermione said dreadfully, "there's already rumors?"

"Hermione, that's the point when you're supposed to say, 'Oye, Gin, listening to rumors? Rubbish' and send me on my way," Ginny said nervously.

"It's not rubbish," Hermione said miserably. "But it's not quite as dire as you might think."

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked softly.

"Things are . . . lines are being drawn," Hermione said, seeming a loss for words, something Hermione never was. "Things are just going to tighten up, especially around school. Ginny, I can't talk now, I'm on my way to meet Harry--"

"Go," Ginny said. "Sorry."

"You'll see," Hermione said as she hurried along. "It'll all turn out right in the end,"

"Will it?" Ginny whispered softly to herself. Hermione didn't hear her, and Ginny was glad. Wanting to be reassured about a situation you didn't know much about was incredibly childish and Ginny liked to think she had outgrown childish things.

As she was about to step through the portrait hole, she heard voices coming nearer. Turning, she saw Ezra and Draco walking toward her, arguing about something.

"I'm in love with her," Draco was saying earnestly, and Ginny's heart flipped over in her chest. She could tell herself until the end of time that she didn't need to hear him say it, that she could feel it -- but nothing, nothing had ever felt like hearing him say it did. She felt invincible; in that very moment, she would have told anyone who asked that she felt able to fly.

It was remarkable, too, hearing him say it like that when he didn't know she was listening. Lying to Ezra would be pointless, of course -- they were probably only engaged in conversation in the first place because Draco had no doubt been bothering Ezra about where Ginny had gotten off to. The look on Ezra's face was priceless, as well -- like she couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Ginny imagined it would take quite a bit of getting used to on everyone's part. Ezra was probably giving Draco an earful, warning him not to hurt her friend.

"That's great, Draco," Ezra said bitterly, "I'm happy for you. But it doesn't change a damn thing."

"It changes everything," Draco insisted heatedly.

"It doesn't!" Ezra stubbornly asserted. "It didn't change anything when I fell in love, and it doesn't for you. We're stuck with each other, Malfoy, I'm sorry to say. Unless you want to be the one to incur the wrath of both our fathers; just give me enough time to get far away from them, you selfish little troll."

Draco remained horribly silent and the heavy, leaden pieces began to fall neatly into place in Ginny's mind, each one carrying with it a sickening feeling of dread and nausea. Denial should have set in at that point, but Ginny was not afforded the comforting solace of numbness, instead jumping straightaway to the bitter, gnawing pain. She must have let out a gasp or some other betraying sound of distress (and I was trying to be so quiet!), because Ezra and Draco both turned toward her. Ginny noted that Ezra looked extremely guilty.

Draco merely looked sad; the sort of quiet sadness that killed a man in creeping, agonizing moments, years before the body began to die. His face reflected the very same broken heart Ginny felt slicing away at the inside of her chest.

Covered in blood pudding and misery, Ginny did the only thing that she could:

She ran.

~

She'd never been a particularly sporty girl, never quite blooming into the tomboy her mother had expected, Ginny being the only girl born to a family of boys. Her brothers' rowdy, rambunctious play, while delightful to Ginny as a child, hadn't been at all appealing once she'd learned about the glories of makeup and fancy clothes. By the time her Hogwarts letter had arrived, Ginny had become a girl in every sense of the word.

It had been years since she'd ran like this, but run she did, as though the devil himself was chasing her (wasn't he?). Her lungs had already begun to burn and her surroundings were a blur. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she heard Draco calling out her name; dimly recognized the steady beat of running feet that were not her own.

One thing she was certain of was this: she could not allow him to catch her. If he caught her, he would try to explain, and there was nothing to be said. All the fantasies she'd had were crumbling around her with every step she took. A few short minutes ago, her biggest worry about the new relationship she was in had been how her parents would take the news.

Arthur Weasley would yell. That seemed to be a given. Molly would shush him and put an arm around Ginny and be very mother-like, asking questions like, 'are you sure, dear?' and 'is he good enough for you?' to which her father would bluster 'Bloody hell, no, he isn't! He's a Malfoy, isn't he?' and Ginny would cry 'Dad, he's not like the rest of them!' while secretly knowing he was an awful lot like the rest of them, with one big difference: he loved her. He really, truly loved her, even if he never told her so except once, in the vaguest possible way. But still, he showed her that he loved her, and wasn't that more important, anyway? Wasn't that the sort of love you could just feel down to the bone? The sort of love that could conquer all?

"I'm so stupid," she gasped aloud as she finally came to a stop. She'd run all the way to the lake, and was now doubled over by the water, breathing harshly.

"You're not stupid," Draco said, his own breathing labored as he jogged up beside her. "Though I think you've given me a bloody heart attack. Good God, Woman, have you been doing speed-enhancing charms or something?"

"Amazing how fast you can run with a broken heart, isn't it?" she said a bit hysterically.

"Don't," he said harshly. "Don't say your heart's broken, it can't be broken, I won't let it be."

"Well it is!" she snapped, spinning around to face him head on. "It's broken into itty-bitty pieces and I'm never going to forgive you for it!" She gestured widely with her arms. "Draco, you're engaged!"

"It's not my bloody fault!" he yelled. "I told you I couldn't make you any promises, I told you from the very beginning! I even tried to make you go away--"

"Well you didn't try hard enough!" she sobbed. "You should have shoved me out the door! You should have pushed me away when I kissed you, you should have--"

"What?" he argued. "Broken your heart sooner? Rejected you, made you think I didn't want you?"

"Yes," she said angrily. "It would have been better then. It would have been better if you'd done it then, before . . . before . . ."

"Before what?" he snapped. "Before you loved me?"

"No, idiot, before I knew you loved me!" She hit his chest once, hard, with the flat of her palm. "It was bearable, thinking we'd never be together so long as you didn't love me back. But then you had to go and kiss me and hold me and agree with me when I said I couldn't not love you . . ." There were tears streaming down her face and she had to turn away from him. "Why did you have to agree with me?"

"I´m sorry," he whispered, moving behind her. His arm snaked around her waist and he pulled her back to his front, holding her tight. He pressed his face to her neck and she felt his damp cheeks. "I didn't -- I don't understand anything of what I'm feeling."

"What do you mean?" she whispered helplessly.

"I am so desperately, terribly, irrevocably in love with you," he confessed softly. "I've never loved . . .anything nearly like this and it scares me, it scares me to bloody death. I don't know how to behave or how to react or . . . how to turn you away. I don't think I'm built to turn you away, brat."

"But you're going to marry some other girl," she mumbled miserably. It was the first time she'd said it out loud. It didn't seem to make the concept any more bearable. Draco, married to some other girl. Not just any girl, either; Ezra. The first friend Ginny had ever made on her own; the first friend who didn't merely tolerate her for Ron's sake.

"I have to," Draco said quietly. "Our fathers expect it--"

"Don't your stupid fathers realize these aren't the bloody dark ages?!" Ginny cried, bringing one of her hands up to clutch at his forearm around her middle.

"No," he answered seriously.

They stood like that for a moment. Ginny stared out over the water, willing her eyes to dry up. Trying to stop crying only made her sob harder, until she was hiccuping. Draco rubbed her belly softly; the touch was instinctual and it brought fresh tears to her eyes.

"That's it, then," she said quietly, not realizing she'd spoken aloud until she felt his body tense behind her. "It's over," she said, a bit louder.

"It doesn't have to be," he whispered against her ear, and she turned around to face him.

"Draco," she said, almost kindly, "I know you hate to just give up, but even you have to admit that this situation is fairly dire."

"I don't want to lose you, Gin," he said, and his voice was as earnest as she had ever heard it. "I can't walk away from you without a fight."

"Who are you fighting?" she asked quietly. "Your father? Yourself?"

"Maybe both," he said tightly. "Run away with me."

Her eyes bugged. "What?"

"You heard me," he said. "The only way we can be together is to go where my father will never find us."

"Just leave everything behind," she said, disbelieving. "My family . . ."

"I understand if you can't do it. It would mean leaving everything behind, it would mean we only had each other--"

"All right," Ginny said, and she was as surprised at her answer as he was.

"Be sure," he cautioned. "Remember, I've got nothing to lose, nothing to walk away from. You're everything good in my life; I'm probably the worst thing in yours."

"You're not," she said honestly. "You're . . . Draco, you're what I see when I imagine my future. I see myself with you, I dream myself with you, I . . . I don't know why it happened, and it's so fast, everything was so fast, and I don't know exactly when or even how, but . . .I can't imagine my life without you."

He looked at her for a moment, and it was the same look he gave her last night when she professed to love him: measuring, wary, and desperately wanting to believe.

"Then meet me here tonight," Draco said. "Say good-byes if you need to. But meet me here and we'll leave before dawn."

Drawing her toward him, he kissed her desperately, bringing her to him as though he wished to pull her all the way inside his being. All she could do was tearfully mumble the word 'yes' against his mouth.

~