AN: Sorry this took so long. I've been cramped by writer's block and a busy schedule. For those of you who think I am rushing this, you're partially right. I only wish for time to fly, and seeing as how I'm writing this, I'm going to keep in this vein. I am sorry if it aggravates you, but I have a purpose. Also, I hope that you don't think this is fluff. It gets much more serious and scary. I have the ideas, just not the words yet.
Many thanks to where_is_truth (Come to Me and Even I have Pride) for her lovely beta-ing and permission to use "come to me" as a phrase. I appreciate all your reviews. I try to make this funny as well, so I hope you see the humor in each chapter, be it dark or blatant.
Arthur Weasley was rather rudely knocked aside when a long body flew out of his fireplace.
"Jumpin' Jiminy!" he yelped (he was rather fond of the phrase; an American wizard had taught it to him) in surprise.
"What's happened, Arthur, are you-oh!" Molly said, seeing her husband sprawling on the floor. Everyone but Ginny came from the kitchen when they heard the commotion. Their attention was turned from their prostrate father to the moaning, crumpled lump of humanity on the sooty floor.
"It's Malfoy!" one of the twins said, waving the smoke and dust away. It was pandemonium. Ron was calling for his immediate emasculation for bothering them at home, the twins were mulling whether or not this was a good time to feed Draco a joke candy they'd whipped up in dis-honor of him, and Percy was trying to think of any Ministry rules he'd broken. Charlie was dispatched to get Ginny immediately, and Bill was honestly trying not to laugh at the whole situation.
"Clear out, clear out!" Molly yelled at the brood, pointing toward the kitchen. "The poor boy's hurt and he needs help. Arthur, control them!" Muttering, Arthur shuttled them off as Ginny and Charlie came bounding down the steps.
"Draco!" Ginny shouted, leaping off the bottom step and almost losing her footing. She crossed the short distance and knelt at his head.
"Happy Christmas, Gin," he said weakly. His body was wracked with a paroxysm of coughing from the dust and ashes in the grate. Molly Weasley shook her head, muttered a charm, and streams of compressed air shot from her wand and cleaned off the surface dirt. He struggled to sit up, and rested his forehead on his palm.
"Hold on a moment, just a bit dizzy," he muttered.
The entire Weasley family watched their matriarch and their princess tend to a Malfoy.
Ginny was feeling his ribs, then his arms for any breaks. Finding them mostly uninjured except for deep bruises and gashes, she began working to stanch the small trickles of blood that were coming out of his nose, his lower lip, and near his hairline.
Molly was busily questioning Draco to ascertain if he'd sustained any sort of head injury. He seemed fine, but the wind had been knocked out of him and he had taken a pretty nasty magical beating.
He answered her incessant questions with some of his Malfoy airs, but there was no way to hide from nine pairs of eyes how much his body ached.
"It's not as bad as last time," Ginny whispered into his ear. Draco looked around at the scene and shook his head gently, not wanting to addle his brains any more than they had been.
"No, Gin, in fact I think it's a little worse than last time," he said ruefully.
Molly's ears perked at the quiet words.
"Last time?" she demanded imperiously. "Who did this to you? More importantly, who did you let do this to you for a second time?" Her icy glare was intense upon her uninvited guest and her daughter, knowing that she too was probably wrapped up in this. Draco's gaze shifted from Molly to Ginny, and back to Molly again.
"I think," he said to the room at large, "that I'd better tell you the whole story."
"Maybe you'd better," Molly stated firmly. She beckoned her family in from the kitchen. Uncharacteristically silent, all of them save Ginny draped themselves over the clean but well-worn furniture.
Draco sat cross-legged, somewhat blearily, in front of Ginny, who was rubbing his shoulders reassuringly and peering around his head to glare defiantly at her family.
He sighed heavily and began.
"You must know that I'm a Death Eater." A simultaneous gasp erupted and immediately heated words began to fly.
"Stay calm!" Molly barked. Sheepishly, they settled uncomfortably.
"I work for Dumbledore as a double agent. I'm a better looking Snape." The twins sniggered. Draco managed a weak grin. Ginny patted his back and he forged ahead.
"My father thinks that I'm being a loyal little follower of the Dark Lord, when the reality is that I'm reporting his each and every move to Dumbledore in the hopes that the information will help bring down Voldemort, and yes," he paused, letting his use of the name sink in to the still-squeamish Weasleys, "put my father away for a very long time." He motioned pointedly to a rather nasty gash on his forearm.
The assembly began to murmur. He could hear Ginny take a breath behind him, to say something, but he turned his head and spoke from the side of his mouth to her.
"No, let me handle this," he said softly, reaching back to touch her hand as her family muttered disbelievingly around them.
Draco's eyes widened when he watched Ron stand and face his family.
"It's true," he said over the clamor. "He's telling the truth." Silence fell again as everyone assembled stared at Ron, then Draco.
"He went to Hermione for help in Muggle Studies, and as part of the deal for her to help him, she was allowed to tell Harry and me what he was really doing, not just skulking around Ginny."
"You insufferable toad!" Ginny yelled, coming up from behind Draco and heading for Ron, intent on slugging him. Catching the back of her dressing gown just in time, Draco grabbed Ginny and pulled her back toward him. Ron glared at his sister.
"I resent that last bit, Weasley. You'll thank me for keeping her from slapping you," Draco said coldly to Ron.
"Boys, please," Arthur said, exasperatedly. He turned to Draco. "Why on earth would you be doing Muggle Studies, Draco?" he asked, sounding suddenly interested.
Draco was a bit taken aback by how surreal it all was. He was sitting in the infamous Burrow, which was chock full of Weasleys, battered and bruised, on Christmas Eve. He gazed on the irregular walls, the crawly plumbing, the bright splashes of color that adorned the room and the happy family photos that smiled at him from the walls. So different from Malfoy Manor. He was loath to admit it, but he was definitely happier being here in this situation than being alone at home in his cold marble bedroom.
"Because, Mr. Weasley, if you must know, I wish to make the business fronts my father maintains into legitimate ventures, including selling to…Muggles." He let this sink in for a long while; and indeed, it seemed like any minutes before anyone could say anything.
Bill, by far the most diplomatic of the entire bunch, stepped forward and strode towards Draco, his hand outstretched. Draco took it and allowed himself to be pulled into a shaky stance.
"We've not liked each other in the past, Malfoy," he said, indicating his family, "but I'm willing to overlook it if Dumbledore trusts you this much and also for defying your father." Bill gave him a crushing handshake and leaned forward to clap him on the back.
"And if you hurt Ginny," Bill whispered, "we'll kill you."
Draco nodded tightly, and Bill returned to his seat. The twins, sensing that the main event was over, took a page from their brother's diplomatic book and bid good night to all assembled. Quietly everyone left until it was just Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ginny and Draco.
Still standing, Draco began to feel silly about the whole situation. He wondered why he had come here.
For Ginny, you daft fool. You wanted her to take care of you, didn't you? If it wasn't for her, you'd be piss-drunk somewhere.
He shook away his thoughts, thinking only of escape, of embarrassment.
"I'll just be going, then," Draco said, reaching for his wand with a trembling hand. Arthur's hand shot out and grabbed Draco's shaking wrist.
"You'll do nothing of the sort, Draco," he said gently to the young man who was struggling to remain defiant. "You'll splinch yourself in this condition. You can stay here until the morning. Our bedrooms are full up at the moment, but you can sleep here on the sofa and Molly will get you some blankets and a pillow."
Molly's eyes sparkled for a moment. She hoped that maybe her husband was going to accept Draco, at least for the time being, and as long as Draco demonstrated that he wasn't out to hurt Ginny.
"I can't do that, Mr. Weasley; really, I must go." Ginny dragged him to the sofa and shoved him into its soft recesses.
"Sit down, shut up, and listen to someone else for a change," Ginny said, her tone reproving and laced with sharpness. He gazed up at her with knitted brows.
"Ginny, dear, why don't you go back upstairs and go to bed? Your father and I will finish taking care of Draco," Molly intervened. Throwing her mother a murderous look, she huffed upstairs.
An hour or so later, Ginny lay in bed listening to Draco take a shower in the bathroom across the hall. She had heard her father assisting him up the stairs and giving him a pair of Fred's pajamas to wear.
It was simply unbelievable that he had shown up at the Burrow. Even more unbelievable that no one tried to do anything to him. Well, the twins had told her that Ron wanted to chop off his stones, but she disregarded that.
Hearing the shower cease running, she listened intently as he rustled around the unfamiliar bathroom. She knew when he opened the door because a wave of scented steam came underneath the crack in her door. That silly git, she thought, he's used my apple shampoo.
The stairs creaked agreeably as he gingerly made his way down to the lounge. Molly Weasley had apparently been at work while he was showering, because a warm bed was made up for him. The couch had already been charmed to elongate, for the Weasley men were tall. It was altogether the most comfortable sofa he'd ever chanced to lie upon. He settled deeply into the cushions, tucking his face into the near corner of the sofa, feeling the worn warmth surround him.
He knew Ginny thought she was sneaking up on him from the time he heard her door open to her whispered silencing spell on the creaky stairway. He pretended to be asleep as she descended, dressed only in thin flannel pajama pants and a tee shirt that had gotten altogether too small to be worn in public. Crossing the trampled carpet, she took a seat with her back to the sofa, presumably staring into the fire.
"You're daft, you know, using my shampoo," she said. "When you go home tomorrow your father will smell it on you." Draco hadn't thought of that particular problem. Shaking away the nasty thought, he listened as she continued to speak softly.
"I am still infuriated with you for walking away angry on my last day at Hogwarts. If you don't already know it, this little scheme you're working on is deadly and I don't plan on losing you, Malfoy, you great prat."
"You didn't apologize either, Princess," he muttered roughly, turning his head toward her.
"I shouldn't have to. You act like this is a walk in the park."
Groaning, he said, "Excellent logic. Who am I to argue with logic like that?" He could see her cheek tense.
"Why did you come here?" she asked suddenly, in a somewhat mournful tone. Shocked, Draco tried to rearrange his thoughts. He was stunned that she seemed not to want him there.
"I can leave," he said immediately, brusquely, and moving to kick off the blankets.
"No!" she said, stilling him with an outstretched hand. "I meant as in, I think you've jeopardized your position. Coming here can be traced back to you." Sighing, Draco relaxed.
"I thought you were upset for a moment." He let out a breath that he hadn't even realized he'd been holding, his next words spoken curtly to cover the embarrassment he felt at being so blatantly taken aback by her comment.
"I just couldn't stay there after what he did to me. He hexed me to no end, dragged me upstairs and gave me a dagger as a Christmas gift. Then that bastard just stared at me as I said I was going out. He didn't care where I was going; he probably thought I was going to get drunk. I Floo'd to The Leaky Cauldron and then here. So no, it cannot be traced back here unless someone had a reason to do so."
"Draco, I'm so sorry."
"Don't be. The more he tortures me, the stronger I become."
Many minutes passed, and, unable to hold out any longer, Draco reached out and began to stroke the soft cinnamon fall of Ginny's hair. She moved closer to his end of the sofa, wanting less distance between her and the warm, soothing caresses.
"A Knut for your thoughts," Ginny said. Draco nearly choked. How was he to tell her that he had been lost in the memory of a year ago this evening?
His pregnant silence told her the answer.
"Come to me," he whispered in a needy, covetous voice. It was something she had never heard, even when he had been far more badly beaten before. Its nakedness startled her and she was compelled to stand and turn to him.
He pushed back the blankets that had warmed him and surprised himself with his next action. He held his arms out to her, and begged with his eyes for her to join him, to make him whole.
Somehow, some way, they managed to divest themselves of their pajamas and she was able to whisper the contraception charm. Slowly, lazily, and mindful of Draco's injuries, Ginny made love to him, allowing him what he wanted, giving him what he needed without words.
When she slowly ground her body down his shaft, he held her as closely as possible, kissing her in time to her thrusts, tracing her ear with his tongue. Although he longed to reverse their positions and cover her, he reveled in the release he brought her to and in his own completion. He found that afterwards as they lay together, he could not stop caressing her, bringing her many more climaxes. He could not stop kissing her, cuddling with her. With a minimum of effort, Ginny helped him to redress and then did the same. When sleep finally came, his body caged Ginny's protectively, his hands laced around her soft midriff and a leg thrown over hers.
When Bill came down the unnaturally silent steps, he knew something was amiss. He had always been an early riser, and with an unexpected guest in residence, he wanted to make sure nothing out of the ordinary had gone on during the night.
When he reached the landing and found Malfoy's body wound around his sister, he squelched the urge to cold-cock him. Although he suspected that Ginny had been a very willing participant in whatever full-contact sport they played, for Merlin's sake, they were in the Burrow.
Crossing to the sofa, Bill chucked Ginny under the chin. She jerked awake and violently shrank back, knocking the breath out of Malfoy and instigating a chain reaction of waking.
Ginny fixed Bill with that patented little sister look, but he merely shook his head. At least Malfoy had the good grace to appear suitably embarrassed about being caught.
"You'd best get back to bed, Gin, before Mum finds you've stayed down here. And, reverse the silencing spell. That'll tip her off." Bill moved away and went back upstairs.
Ginny turned to Draco and smiled, a flush coloring her cheeks as she kissed him quickly and disentangled his hands from her soft breasts, where they had been hidden from Bill's sight underneath the blankets.
Draco gave a put-upon sigh but grinned back at her. Watching her shapely bottom swing as she ascended the stairs wasn't such a bad way to wake up. Plus, he surmised, the Weasleys wouldn't hide their feelings. Of course, it was most likely bad form to shag in one's parents' home, but if Bill hadn't punched him or done something else equally brotherly by now, he was probably home free.
He settled back into the sofa until he was woken for good when the sounds and smells of a home-cooked meal filled the lounge.
The twins woke Draco and ushered him upstairs, where he found that Molly had cleaned the clothing he had arrived in last night. He showered again and replaced his clothes. Fully intending to arrive back at the Manor post haste, he ran down the now-squeaky stairs and nearly collided with Charlie Weasley.
"Whoa, there, mate, where d'you think you're going?" he asked congenially. Draco stopped short; no one had ever called him "mate" before. It was rather nice.
"Ah, well, I thought I'd best be on my way," Draco said, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible.
"You can't just leave. Mum's set a place for you at the table. I think Ginny has a present for you. So do go into the kitchen and take a seat and make happy for a while." Charlie shoved him firmly in the direction of the good smells and Draco went, only somewhat reluctantly.
Christmas with the Weasleys was a loud, noisy, bright affair. The twins had made special Christmas crackers with interesting gifts and Molly had cooked a mountain of food. Draco had been surprised and even blushed when he found his seat and a black sweater with a large D embroidered on it in silver thread draped over the back of it. Ginny confided to Draco that Molly had had her knitting needles working non-stop since before she went to bed.
The party had moved into the lounge at some point and Draco watched the family give and receive little gifts with great joy. When Ron (who was acting as the gift-giver) unearthed a sleekly-wrapped package with Draco's name on it, he handed it personally to Draco without any qualms.
All eyes were on him as he unwrapped the contraption. Within twenty minutes or so, Draco was listening to Sympathy for the Devil and thinking that maybe Muggle music wasn't half-bad.
Draco almost didn't want to leave. But he knew it was nearly ten, and he should be returning to his cold home. Ginny promised to keep his gifts until the school term started and he could have them at his disposal safely. Molly plied him with leftovers until he was full to bursting. Finally, he was forced to shuffle backwards out of the front door, smiling and waving, as Ginny accompanied him and shut the door on her family.
Draco dropped his smile, although it had been genuine for a long time this morning.
"Thank you, Princess. For everything." He leaned forward and dropped a quick kiss on her lips (quick only because he knew her family was most assuredly watching from the windows) and waved his wand, Disapparating.
Draco went to several locations before he arrived home, so as to throw off any trackers. Unfortunately he appeared directly in front of an unhappy Lucius in the main hall of the manor.
"Where have you been, Draco?" Lucius asked lightly, his tone belying the steely gray of his probing eyes. Draco did not answer immediately, and Lucius' discerning nose picked out a sweet scent. As he concentrated on his son's mind, the vision was suddenly occluded, affording him only of a dim, blurry scene of a woman with dark hair in front of a fire bending over Draco in ecstasy. Lucius smiled.
"No need to answer, my son. My eyes tell me everything I need to know."
"Do they really?" Draco chanced caustically, feeling dead foolish about calling his father's bluff.
"Of course," Lucius smiled severely. "The same clothes you left in, a cloying scent. You've been with a trollop. It's quite obvious. I only hope that you took great care in avoiding a Malfoy bastard. Do not do it again. If you do, you might be more discreet and let me arrange a suitable companion who is fit to see the light of day."