Tender the Storm

Chapter Five

The darkness that descended was complete and broken only by occasional flashes of lightning. The wind and rain still lashed at him as he rode, but Draco sensed that the gale was beginning to blow itself out. Dashing the rain from his eyes, he reined in his mount at the edge of a small meadow, peering through the dark for the ruined cottage that he knew was nearby. It was one of the last places he could think of to look. He frowned at the thought of going back empty-handed.

The hut had been a tumbledown affair even when Draco had roamed the woods as a boy. As he nudged his horse into the clearing, though, he realized that he had not been out in this area for fifteen years, at least. Gamekeepers of the estate had once inhabited the cottage, but no one had lived there for decades.

Another flash of lightning showed him that his memory was not so bad, after all. Framed by tall plane trees and a few ancient oaks, the cottage sat at the far edge of the meadow. Even at a glance, Draco realized that the hut was far more broken-down than he recalled.

But the condition of the place would mean nothing to a boy seeking shelter from the storm. The forests that covered the rolling hills and valleys for the next mile or so would soon give way to farms, but Jacky wouldn't know that.

Draco dismounted before the hut and secured his horse to a low stone wall. Taking a step toward the low door, he stopped and eyed the shelter warily. Even though half of the thatched room had fallen in years ago, the place did not have the feeling of being totally deserted. Branches, broken to a uniform length, had been stacked against the sotne wall. The leather hinges that once held the door in place had long ago given way, but someone had fairly recently pulled the stout wood planking up against the narrow opening. The single window even appeared to have a hide tacked across the inside to keep out the weather.

And as Draco stood there, the shifting wind brought him the smell of a wood fire. Man or boy, he thought, someone was in that cottage.

Just to be sure, he circled the place. More than likely, it was simply one or more of the children from his estate or from the village who had been doing the minor repairs. They had always been drawn to the hut. When he was himself still a boy, he had often come here to escape his father's wrath.

The flashes of lightning told him that no serious repairs had been made to the cottage. A stream of water was running from a small gap in the crumbling wall at the back of the hut. Deciding that discretion was probably in order, though, Draco crouched and peered through the small opening. The fallen thatch blocked his access, but he could see the light of the small fire flickering on the wall across the small space.

As he watched, he saw a small hand reach over and carefully place a broken branch on the fire. Obviously, the occupant had not heard him approach, for there was no nervousness in the boy's movements as he added another branch to the fire. This time Draco caught sight of the boy's other hand.

It was Jacky.

Draco's lips twitched, and a feeling of relief swept through him, its intensity surprising him and causing his face immediately to crease into a frown. He remained where he was for a long moment and just stared at what he could see of his son. His back was turned, and Draco could only see the extended arms and muddied trousers and the bare legs and feet. Although late in May, the chill night air lacked the feel of summer. But still, on this stormy night, Jacky had chosen the discomfort of this ramshackle cottage over all the luxury that had surrounded him at the Manor.

Draco pushed himself wearily to his feet and made his way around the cottage to the door and the slab of wood propped against it. He considered for a moment, and then took a step back toward his horse.

"Hello! Is anyone there?" he called loudly over the sound of the storm.

Moving forward, he carefully pushed the door aside and peered in. The fire was still burning, but the lad had disappeared. He ducked his head and entered the cottage. On the far side of the hut, two muddy feet protruded from beneath the fallen thatch.

As Draco looked at the boy, the rain began to come down again in earnest through the broken roof. He studied the low and unsteady rafters and then crouched before the boy's hiding place.

"There's no point in running away or hiding. You must be soaked tot he skin now. At this rate, you'll probably come down with a fever and die within a fortnight."

Jacky didn't move from his hiding place.

"Come on, Jacky! I can see you."

There was still no movement, and he remembered what Carlisle and Ginny had told him about the boy's difficulty in hearing. He stood up and heaved a pile of thatch to the side, revealing the boy.

He had Madeleine's features, but the eyes and the hair were his own. The boy was shivering slightly from the rain - or from fear of him. Draco stretched a hand out.

"It's time for you to return to the Manor."

The boy made no move to accept the proffered hand. he just continued to star at him with a piercing glare that Draco recognized as having seen before in a mirror.

"You've put the household in complete disarray today. Now, I know you don't care a rush for my people's concerns, but there's at least one person I know you do care for." He crossed his arms over his chest. "Miss Weasley was so upset that she went out in this storm searching for you - alone and on foot. We were able to bring her back to the house for a short time. But if I don't take you back right now, then she'll be going out again. I doubt she'll be as lucky as you were in finding a place to dry out or a fire to warm herself. She'll be coming down with a fever, it and it'll be your fault. So if you care nothing for her . . ."

Jacky rose to his feet, but said nothing.

Draco used his boot to put out the fire while the boy went and stood by the door waiting. When he motioned for Jacky to go out ahead of him, he was amused to see the boy replace the slab of wood across the front door.

The two walked in silence through the rain to the waiting horse. Draco, lifting the child onto the back of the animal, was amazed to realize that, even soaking wet, Jacky weighed almost nothing.

There was a great deal that Draco knew he himself had to say to the lad. Some explanation of the past, perhaps. Some greeting or introduction, he supposed, this being their first meeting. Still better, the boy deserved a good tongue thrashing for the trouble he had caused Malfoy Manor's servants.

But he said nothing. Instead, the ride back to the house was made in absolute silence, broken only by the rumbling of thunder receding in the distance.

***

The bed remained untouched. The household had finally settled after the ordeal for the day and night. Ginny sat quietly in a chair in her bedchamber and pondered the emotional sleigh ride she had experienced in the past twenty-four hours.

She had never been more saddened or crazed than at the moment she'd discovered Jacky missing this morning - not even the time Draco Malfoy had thrown her love for him back into her face.

And she could not recall a moment of greater joy than she'd experienced tonight at the sight of him descending safely from his father's gleaming horse. She had rushed into the rain and cried as her boy had run into her arms and buried his face into her neck - mumbled words of apology nearly drowned out by the sound of Draco issuing directions to his servants. After a moment, though, she had to draw back and release Jacky, allowing the housekeeper and the steward to take charge of him.

Overseeing their efforts from a distance, she had seen them do everything she would have done, and more. Drying him. Dressing him in warm clothing. Feeding him. Putting him to bed. She had nodded encouragingly when he had directed his soulful gaze at her.

He was John Malfoy, the heir to a vast fortune. And Ginny knew - as difficult as it would be for them both - she had to hold herself back and allow Jacky to learn to deal with these people who were a part of his future.

Earlier, when she had returned to the house and was waiting for news of him, Ginny had found plenty of time to think over what Draco had said to her. It was the truth. It was her fault that the young boy had acted so hastily this morning. Her lack of experience in bringing up a child - her years of excessive protectiveness - had led to Jacky being so dependent on her. Now, she had to do her best to help him become more independent.

She brushed away the tears on her face, and pressed a hand to the ache in her chest. It was no help. She was an unholy mess, but she was truly missing him already.

Rising to her feet, she tightened the belt of her night robe and walked toward the door. She had said good night to him, gently refusing to sit with him when he was finally put to bed. But now, a couple hours later, she knew he would be asleep. And she had to see him. She had to at least look at him and try to soothe her aching heart.

The hallway was quiet when she stepped out. As she approached his door, she had a moment of panic. What would happen if her was missing again? But her mind was quickly put at ease when, upon opening it, she saw him sleeping peacefully, as if nothing had ever been amiss in the world.

Ginny stepped in and quietly closed the door behind her.

The curtains were open, and a soft blue light imbued the room with a pervading sense of serenity. The rain had stopped, and a bright moon had somehow worked its way through the lcouds. Outside, the countryside glistened beneath its white beams.

Ginny stood for the longest time with her back against the door, watching her son sleep.

Jacky! Only a short time ago, she had thought her life so complete. She had been a mother to someone who needed her. She had been fulfilling a promise she had made long ago, and in so doing she had filled her own life with joy. She brushed away a tear and walked toward the bed. Leaning over him, she pulled the blanket up to his chin. She touched his unruly hair and brushed a soft kiss over his brow.

Straightening, she wiped a tear from her eyes.

Her heart leaped in her chest.

Draco Malfoy, sitting in a chair in a shadowy corner, was gazing at her intently. He obviously had been watching his son sleep, but now his gaze was fixed on her. It was a strange, unsettling look.

Embarrassment, guilt, emotions that she somehow couldn't put a name to surged through her. She took a step back, but found Draco's piercing gaze following her. With one quick look toward the sleeping Jacky, Ginny turned, and as calmly as she could, escaped the room.

She was down the corridor, nearly to her own door, when the sound of Draco's tread made her pause.

"Ginny."

She wished she could stop the strange fluttering of her pulse, curtail the heat rushing to her face. She turned around to face him. They were alone in the semidarkness of the hall corridor, the dark portraits of his ancestors looking down on them. Her gaze fleetingly took in the white shirt carelessly left half buttoned. She found herself staring at the gold skin and the corded muscles of his neck.

"You weren't able to sleep either." It was less a question than a statement.

She forced herself to look up into his beautifully molded face and gray eyes. The way his gaze traveled from the tip of her bare toes to the wayward curls hanging to her shoulders caused Ginny to swallow hard. She pulled the folds of the robe tighter around her neck. Dressed as he was, she had a hard time maintaining eye contact.

"I know it's late, but would you like to join me in the library for a glass of wine?"

Ginny felt her face grow warm. The feel of his arms as they had held her in place on his horse, the occasional brush of his chin against her wet hair, the warmth of his coat, the smell of night and of forbidden desires - all of these things set her heart drumming wildly in her chest.

When I marry, it will be a woman, not a scrawny carrottop not even out of her teens. She'll be a woman with breeding and money, not some schoolgirl without even two beans to boil together to make soup.

But I love you.

Too bloody bad, Weasley. Because I don't love you.

She shook her head, shame, panic, and desire at odds within her.

"I - I'm very sorry. But it's late - and - and it's been a tiring day." She took a step backwards toward her door.

He nodded. "I've been remiss in inquiring about you health. After the hours that you spent in the rain - "

"I'm fine," she said convincingly, taking another step back until her hand rested on her door. She needed to get out of this corridor. Away from him. In his presence, a love and longing ten years old took control of her senses. Her reaction to him was absolutely appalling, especially since ten years ago he had made it very clear how he felt for her.

"I - I'm quite well. Thank you. Goodnight."

"Ginny."

His call kept her form escaping into her room.

"I believe you should stay. I invite you to stay as long as it takes for Jacky to be perfectly settled in Malfoy Manor."

"Thank you."

She slipped through the door and closed it behind her. Placing her fingers to her fevered cheeks, she stared with unseeing eyes into the darkness of the room. Standing there, Ginny wondered if his invitation had been for Jacky's sake - or for some interest of his own.