Dark Before the Rising Sun

"Hold still," said Draco softly. Ginny winced as he probed at her torn palm with his wand, but did as he ordered, concentrating instead on the way his hair fell softly over his forehead.

They were in the small, inexpensively furnished London flat that Ginny and Molly Weasley had shared ever since the days of the war. The Burrow had remained unoccupied until Ron had married Anna Knowles, and was now overrun with another generation of Weasleys.

Draco and Ginny had Apparated to the flat directly after leaving the boatyard. Kingston had tried to apologize, running towards them, as they'd lain panting and gasping in the grass, still a little dazed after what had just occurred in the yard.

"I don't know what to say," he'd said in consternation.

Draco smiled wryly as he helped Ginny to her feet. "Someone made a mistake."

"A ghastly mistake!" the bearded man apologized. "I don't know how to explain."

"You might try," Draco answered grimly, holding Ginny close.

Kingston mopped at his brow with a large white handkerchief, saying, "As I was coming back down, I decided that you might like to see how the yards flood when the sluice gates are opened. It's an impressive sight."

"As we witnessed at a close range," Draco stated tartly.

"But some stupid oaf opened the wrong sluice gates. I told them clearly yard number two, and instead they flooded number one where you were standing. I'll see that whoever it was pays for it."

Draco had taken one look at Ginny's white, shaken face and held back whatever rude words he'd had in mind. "I think my fiancée is somewhat upset, so I'll take her home now," he said curtly. "Have a good evening."

The minute they arrived in Ginny's flat he whispered a quick drying charm, and they were now crouched in front of a roaring fire, Draco's pale head bent over her scratched and bloody palms.

"Apolliono," he whispered, and the skin mended itself, leaving no scars.

"Thank you," said Ginny, and he gazed down at her with a half-smile.

"You okay?" he asked. "Would you like some, er, chocolate, or tea - "

Ginny shook her head. "No thank you.&rquo; She smiled a little as she continued, wondering what went on behind those slate-colored eyes, clear but guarded, concerned but betraying no emotion. "My mother used to think that tea is a panacea for all ills, be they physical or psychological."

He smiled with her, and they fell silent, and suddenly it was all very awkward. The whole situation seemed strained, and the air cackled with tension. Ginny looked nervously about her at the somewhat shabby apartment, and she wondered again what he thought of her. The flickering firelight fell on threadbare carpet and chipped wood. The chairs were worn, and the very sofa they were sitting on seemed all springs and no padding. Ginny gave a little inward writhe, remembering that the man at her side was the notoriously rich and exclusive Draco Malfoy.

"Nice place you've got," said Draco, sounding so uncharacteristically uncomfortable that Ginny gave a little nervous laugh.

"Thank you. I've been rather busy all these years, and haven't had much time to decorate it nicely, and besides, it's all we could afford . . ."

The words were out before she knew it, and she trailed off with horror. Unable to meet his gaze, she lowered her eyes and stared at her palms, mumbling a trifle defensively, "There was no money. Mother was so sick and I couldn't get a decent job while caring for her."

There was a moment of silence, and Ginny was almost sick with apprehension. He'll despise me, she thought, and then wondered why it mattered.

His hand was callused and warm as he lifted her chin. "Listen to me, Ginny Weasley," he said softly. "That does not matter to me. What matters is that all these years you were hungry, and frightened, and alone, and if I ever get my hands on that oafish brother of yours, I will wring his scrawny neck for being so selfish."

Ginny lifted her gaze, and her eyes were wide and startled. Then her generous mouth broke into a smile like starlight.

She did not know when the air shifted. Something fluttered in her stomach, and his eyes were suddenly much darker, and then he bent his head and slanted his mouth over hers in a kiss.

His lips were hard and soft at the same time, and her mouth parted in surprise under his. He used the moment to his advantage, sliding his tongue inside, sending shivers of heat through her body. She made a sound of protest - or was it something else? He cupped her face in his hands and deepened the kiss, spawning whirlwinds of heat within her.

A tapping at the window penetrated the haze that enveloped them, and they sprang apart guiltily. Ginny, her face flushed with embarrassment, jerked away from him and springing to her feet, hurried to open it.

It was a large barn owl, and it gave her a letter. Recognizing the large, all caps handwriting as belonging to her sister-in-law Anna, Ginny tore it open.

"Hold on," she told the owl, and it hooted softly in understanding.

MY DEAREST GINNY, Anna had written, WE GOT THE INVITATION TO THE PARTY THIS SATURDAY. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR INVITING US, WE'LL DEFINITELY BE THERE. SEND OUR LOVE TO MOLLY. THE CHILDREN MISS YOU VERY MUCH AND CANNOT WAIT. LOVE, ANNA

Draco tried to get a grip on himself while Ginny read her letter. He was furious at himself for losing control, and furious at Ginny for making him lose control. He was being unreasonable, and he knew it, which infuriated him more, and when at last Ginny finished reading and wordlessly handed the parchment to him, he wanted very much to run off like a wolf and howl at the moon.

He resisted the urge and took the piece of paper, squinting as he tried to decipher Anna Knowles Weasley's handwriting, which sprawled like duck prints all over the place, leaving Draco to wonder why the most brilliant people usually had the messiest writing.

When he finished he folded the paper back up. Ginny had scrawled a hasty reply and sent it off with the owl.

"The engagement party," he said, because it was a nice, safe topic. He clung to it. "My staff at the townhouse has been preparing for it all week. Just a small, informal gathering. You invited just the Potters and your brother's family, and we'll just have dinner and make our little announcement."

"Ron will be furious," Ginny sighed.

"He hardly concerned himself with your welfare all these years," he answered coldly with a shrug. "I don't think he has any right to start now."

Ginny gazed at him uncertainly, wondering what had brought about this change in mood. Apparently the kiss they'd just shared hadn't affected him in the same way it had affected her. She bristled a little.

"That sound fine to me," she said tartly. "And now, if you don't mind, it's getting rather late and I should like to get some sleep. It's been a long, tiring day."

He nodded a wordless assent and pressed a light kiss onto her temple. "Have a good night," he said, and Apparated, leaving Ginny to feel that suddenly the apartment was too wide and too dark and too empty.

***

Draco sprawled in a chair before the library fire, a glass of brandy dangling carelessly from his long, strong fingers. He gazed into the dancing flames, his eyes half clsoed. Damn her. Damn her. Damn her!

He drained the glass and then carelessly refilled it, slopping brandy onto the fine polish of the table. He directed his thoughts toward safer topics - namely, the accident that had occurred in the shipyard earlier that day.

Kingston had said that it was an accident, but Draco thought otherwise. The yard that he had shown them had been deliberately removed of anything of value - as well as anybody except for Draco and Ginny. The excuses were valid, of course; the workers were needed in another yard. But Draco didn't think it was a coincidence. Everything had worked so perfectly. Kingston had persuaded them to come down with him. He had been called away, and as soon as he was gone the sluice gates had been opened. There were no workers and no ships in the yard that was being flooded.

Yet why would Kingston want him dead? Draco had never met the man before, and whatever vicious business deals Malfoy Industries might have made could have nothing to do with the shipyard owner, either.

And the final point that baffled him was that no one, not even Draco himself, had known that they would be down at Tinkernon shipyard that afternoon. It had been a whim of Ginny's, conceived in the café at which they had taken their tea.

It was all very puzzling. Draco drank again, deeply, and mulled it over into the long dark hours of the night.