Ruminations

Draco found himself in the middle of the freezing woods. He had moments like this where it felt as if there was something inside him fighting to get out, something long forgotten, an awareness. Such instants passed quickly though, leaving him number than before.

Ginny was ahead of him beneath the unadorned bobbing boughs, her deep red hair glinted occasionally in the moonlight. He both loved and hated her hair, he loved it because of the gentle softness it represented, the femininity, the beauty, he hated it because of all the same reasons. Something he would never touch again, someone who would never love him.

She had stopped, her head bowed reverently as if praying. He would have thought she was had it not been for the hands entwined protectively across her tummy. Suddenly she dropped to her knees, a groan escaping her lips to echo off the stark landscape.

Draco was at her side immediately, lifting her effortlessly into his arms. He carried the redhead gently back to the cabin, rocking her slightly from side to side to calm her shaking.

As they reached the threshold of the hut she doubled in his arms, a contraction ripping through her in all its painful glory. He placed her gently on the blankets, propping her aubern head with his thick woollen cloak. He was at a loss as what to do next, he'd never so much as witnessed a baby being born, let alone been trained in midwifery.

Draco was shocked to find himself afraid. Fear had been the strongest weapon used against the light side, and so he had been taught not to feel it. Ever. And in this way the advanced instruction for the 'good' army sucked the soul of each individual soldier. Take away fear and you take away the ability to feel.

The war had illustrated the point that good needs evil to exist and vice versa, else chaos reigns or there is reform to the point of repression. Both sides are needed to pedal the balance, to keep the world afloat. This time they had learnt it the hard way.

Ginny moaned, writhing against him in an effort to escape the pain. He tenderly smoothed the hair back from her forehead feeling her pulse beat through his hand. He found the wet rag she had used for him when he had been ill and soaked it in cool water before pressing it soothingly to her brow. Ginny's slight frame calmed straight away, sinking back into the folds of the blankets, sighing in what could almost be contentment. If Draco imagined hard enough.

Draco stayed next to her as her waters broke, holding her hand as she moaned and screamed. When she had grasped his hand tightly in her own he had been shocked to say the least, the only touching between them had been in the freezing depths of the night when they had huddled for warmth. But after he lost feeling in his fingers he realised it wasn't so much a gesture of familiarity, more something she needed. Just like all his services were.

Morning broke and yet the contractions still shattered through Ginny, pitching her yells and cries. Her breathing was irregular and laboured; in a bid to help her he began to talk. He talked about anything and everything, about the weather, the seasons, the world immediately outside their window. She seemed to calm to his voice, letting it drift through her.

But eventually he ran out of stuff to say and slowly he allowed his mind to drift back. Back to the days of sunshine and light, when life was a game and you had to play but only when it suited you.

He talked of Hogwarts to her, of professors and homework, of quidditch and Halloween. It seemed that once the floodgates had been opened he couldn't stop himself; a part of him eagerly opened the doors that had been locked by pain.

And Ginny listened, she hung on every word, remembered every instance. Slowly, her breathing evened and she rode the contractions, one after another, coming quicker and quicker. Finally the baby worked its way into the light of the chalky sun that escaped through the window, Ginny pushed and sighed, heaving and relaxing.

Draco caught the baby in a clean, warm cloth, holding the precious bundle to him. A tiny tuft of vivid red hair could be seen on the crinkled skin of the newborn, it did not cry though, not a sound, instead stared at him through eyes as blue as a cornflower. At the time, Draco had panicked; blue eyes didn't run in his family, there was nothing to mark this baby as his. Seeds of doubt were sown. Later Ginny explained that all babies had blue eyes when they were born.

Ginny had tugged the baby towards her, cradling it in her arms. With her hair stuck sweatily to her skin and her eyes dark with exhaustion, Draco thought he'd never seen someone looks beautiful. Never seen someone look so alive.

In the while he had been in this forest with her - he'd lost track of time, days, years - her eyes had been as dead as a frozen lake in the winter, it was refreshing to know she could still show emotion. Could still feel something within her anaesthetized heart.

Ginny was an inspiration to them all. To all the survivors.