Ruminations

They coexisted peacefully, falling into routine.

Draco would go and hunt for their food in late morning after a breakfast of apples and blackberries - the most plentiful fruits available. In the early afternoon Ginny would sleep until the sun started to ebb in the sky when she would wake up, like clockwork, and go for a walk on her own through the darkened woods leaving the blonde-headed man asleep on blankets in the corner of the hut.

Of course she knew that Draco followed her, mirroring her steps in silence, flitting from tree to tree, no less distinguishable from the shadows themselves. He had been sent here by his own volition, she understood, and if something happened to her baby he would have nothing left to live for either. They had that in common.

When she returned she would always find him in exactly the same position she left him in; this always made her smile. Especially when he had little bits of twig still stuck in his hair.

Though after the first exchange never once did they speak to each other. A vow of silence had fallen between them, in many ways this alone was the one thing that allowed them to get through day after day, night after night, waiting for a fateful day that came ever nearer.

And all the while the baby grew, the one link between them, their saviour and their curse. The noises of the forest expanded to fill the silence that hung between them and soon it too became part of the routine.

She had to admit to herself that it was nice to see a human face, to be held when she was cold and be accompanied when she was alone. That was as far as her appreciation extended for Draco though. There were some things that just couldn't be forgotten.

Soon enough the trees were naked in their anticipation for winter, creaking in the night, whispering in the day. Rains came for weeks on end, making the hut dismally damp and smelly; giving Draco a cold that Ginny could hear sniffling in the early hours of the morning.

A 'common cold', used to be such a rudimentary virus, something cured by the wave of a wand and a warm bed. Now they had neither.

Ginny no longer slept at night, content to watch the milky moon work its way across the sky night after night, never the same. She soon became aware of Draco watching her behind slitted eyes, momentary guilt that he would not sleep unless she did flashed through her, but was gone as quickly as it came. He was here of choice to look after her, to keep her alive, which would maybe keep him alive at the same time.

One day, as the sun drew low in the sky, the virus broke over Draco, sending him feverish and delirious. Ginny sat by him, wondering what she should do, remembering nothing. Eventually she ground some mint together with some lavender from their herb cupboard. Usually everything in there was used for cooking but this time she made an exception. She mixed the crushed herbs with boiling hot water and made Draco breathe it in, trying to clear his sinuses and his head. Once it had cooled slightly, she smeared some across his chest, the potent scent mixing with the odour of the cabin making the atmosphere hot and tepid. Ginny retrieved some cold water from the outside pitcher, having to break the ice first. She soaked a rag in it and bathed Draco's forehead as he muttered in his sleep, words just out of her hearing. All night she sat, watching him sleep, until the sun of a new day breached the horizon. Then she curled into a foetal ball at his feet, the perfume of lavender and mint still suspended in the air, the fever fading as the night did.

Ginny woke the next afternoon to find some still steaming soup next to her. She was wrapped in many layers leaving her insulated and safe. Draco was nowhere to be seen.

She ate the soup slowly, savouring the taste. The next thing she wanted to do was learn how to make bread, but Ginny thought she may have to wait until the spring for that dream because there was no wheat or eggs in the winter. Arthur stirred inside her, kicking restively against the tummy walls, making the redhead smile peaceably to herself. He lay inside her like lightning waiting to strike, he was fated to be strong. Stronger than she ever was, stronger than she could ever be.

Draco entered, ducking beneath the low door, his frame brushing the ceiling. He didn't look at her directly, but the flutter of his eyelids as he darted a glance at her she took as her thanks. She didn't need thanks; she was repaying a debt, a debt owed long ago, in another lifetime.

She rubbed her tummy calmingly as the fire was lit before her eyes. Together they worked soundlessly but smoothly, each knowing their place, each doing their job. Soon enough though, their routine would be obscured by more pressing matters.