Author's Note: Please don't tell me that my chapters are too short. They are never less than 1000 words, and the last chapter was over 3,000 and this one is over 2,800. I am a working adult with a job and overtime that I have to do for another part of my company, so sometimes my time is limited. Sometimes the muse doesn't visit. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. I do try to make each chapter entertaining. That being said, I realize you are all wondering when the story is going to earn its rating. Not in this chapter, but very soon. Just so you know. :-)
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Their verbal barrage stunned her for a moment, and then she found her feet and walked very close to Draco, who was still glaring.
Who are you and what have you done with my Slytherin? she thought. "I've been out," she said simply, as if it explained everything.
"Would it kill you to maybe tell us you're going to be gone after dark?" Draco asked, eyes flashing.
"I wasn't aware I had to answer to anyone, thank you very much," she said haughtily. "There's no set time for ministering to the infirm."
Molly noted that her only daughter was standing up to the considerably taller Draco, and had fixed him with a glare Molly could be proud of. But she didn't put it past either one of them to start a tiff, so she intervened.
"Ginny, dear, maybe just let us know beforehand that you might be out after nightfall," her mother suggested tactfully.
"I'll think about it," she returned, surprising Molly and jarring Draco out of his firmly set displeasure. "For now, I just want to get out of these robes and into some warm clothes."
Thinking of her changing clothes gave him pause for a moment, and felt a bolt of heat shoot to his groin when he recalled how warm she had been pressed behind him in bed. Subject change, Draco thought wildly.
Abruptly, he turned around and picked up a baking sheet, then swiveled around and with oven-mitted hands, shoved the whole thing toward her.
"We made chocolate biscuits, see? They're still warm. Your mum showed me how to work this Muggle oven so we didn't have to use a heating spell."
Ginny found that she couldn't form words, could only raise her eyebrow in suspicion.
"Just take one," he said irritably. "Your mum already had one and she's still standing here with no ill effects."
She reached out for the chocolate chip-filled biscuit. It was indeed warm, and already beginning to break apart a bit in the center. She chewed it slowly, savoring the chocolate on her tongue.
"It's good," she said honestly, popping the rest in her mouth.
Molly noted that Draco struggled mightily not to break into a smile when Ginny pronounced it edible.
Draco busied himself with sliding the biscuits off the baking sheet and onto a plate. Molly had told him before Ginny made her entrance that she planned to offer them to anyone who was in the lounge as a little treat.
When he turned around, Ginny was gone.
"She doesn't mean anything by her attitude," Molly soothed, not quite sure why she was justifying her daughter's actions to a Malfoy.
"It certainly doesn't bother me," Draco said briskly, hearing her bedroom door shut in the distance. "I couldn't care less."
***
He went to bed early, hoping that she would take the hint and join him soon. But half nine passed, half ten, and then it was eleven and she hadn't shown. Tossing the sheets around irritably, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood.
She had taken his splint off three days ago, and it felt nice to have fairly unrestricted movement in that foot. He could also climb or descend the stairs more or less silently, and he was counting on that tonight.
Slipping out the door, he walked down the stairs very carefully, making sure every foot was well planted. Reaching her cupboard door, he opened it and found that he was walking into a room so small his hair nearly brushed the ceiling.
She only had one candle, and it was close to the end of its wick. She was sprawled (or, as sprawled as one person could be in a single) across the entire mattress. Her face was relaxed in the guttering light, shadows dancing over the apples of her cheeks and the dark sweep of her eyelashes.
Gently, he reached down and slid one hand underneath the small of her back and the other behind her near shoulder, turning her on her side. When she was suitably arranged, he slid into bed behind her, mirroring her position with his. Not feeling comfortable enough to drape his arm over her waist, he settled for resting it along the line of his hip.
"Wha'y'doin'?" Ginny mumbled softly, stretching. Not wanting her to wake completely, he fit his chin over her shoulder so he could whisper directly in her ear.
"You didn't come upstairs," he said reproachfully. "So I came down here."
"C'd get caught," was the answering murmur. She moved her head on the pillow then, and he could smell the fresh scent of her hair.
"I'm stealthy," he whispered. "Besides, if you cared one whit about my recovery, you'd have come upstairs, because you know I can't sleep without you now. So kindly pipe down and go to sleep."
"I care," she said, her speech becoming clearer. "I'm sorry."
"Shh," he muttered into her ear. "Don't be sorry. Sleep."
***
Daybreak found Draco in the kitchen, using his newfound skill with the Muggle range to boil water in a kettle for tea. Listening intently for the sounds of rapidly escaping steam, he turned off the burner before the kettle could whistle shrilly.
He was busying himself with the machinations of tea when Remus Lupin entered the room.
"Good morning, Draco," Lupin said cordially.
"Professor," Draco acknowledged. He never had thought this werewolf to be a true professor, but neither did he feel comfortable enough to call him by his first or surname.
"Did you sleep well?" Lupin asked. Draco set down the strainer and looked over at the shabby man sitting at the table with a Muggle newspaper.
"I did, thank you," Draco replied, wondering why Lupin really cared to ask.
"I heard you come downstairs last night, but I never heard you come back up," Lupin remarked, his voice deceptively casual.
"I fell asleep on the couch after getting a glass of water," Draco lied smoothly, facing the meddling werewolf head-on.
"That's interesting, Draco. Because I think you `fell asleep' with Ginny. Her scent is all over you."
"And how would you know what she smells like?" Draco questioned belligerently.
Lupin smiled ruefully and tapped his nose. "Side effect, good in some cases, others, not."
Oh, Merlin. For a sickening second, he'd thought the man was about to tell him he'd sampled Ginny's delightfully scented skin and hair firsthand.
Knowing he was caught put Draco into a predicament. "So what is this about, then? You want to punch me? Hex me? Tell the Weasleys?" he said, eyes narrowed on the scruffy mutt in front of him.
Lupin smiled again, shaking his head.
"Don't be so defensive, Mr. Malfoy. I happen to know that whatever you two are doing, it isn't much. It's a very light scent, and trust me, I'd know if you'd actually, ah, coupled."
Fucking sharp-nosed dog. He worked very carefully to school his features into his favorite bland face.
"War does odd things to people, makes them reach out to others they normally wouldn't have helped. Nevertheless, I feel very protective toward Ginny. Whatever you two consent to do isn't my business, but you'd better watch out for her brothers."
"We're not `consenting' to do anything other than sleep in the same bed, fully clothed," Draco snarled. "In case you haven't noticed, this hellhole lacks proper heating charms and is as drafty as a shack. We stay together for warmth, nothing more. So help me, if you even insinuate that I'm trying to hurt her, I will have no compunction about casting an Unforgiveable. Understood?"
"Understood," Lupin said easily, the corners of his lips upturned.
Draco stalked out of the kitchen, his carefully prepared tea abandoned. Lupin stood and stretched, idly scratching his chest. He wasn't one to let good tea go to waste.
***
In the lounge, Draco encountered Professor Snape, sitting at the small desk there and scratching wildly on parchment.
"Mr. Malfoy. I had not expected you to rise so early."
Draco grunted in reply, and seated himself on the overstuffed chair near Snape. Snape turned to face him, and had to hold back a gasp. Severus Snape's face was covered in welts and small gashes, sliced skin and dried trickles of blood.
"My God, Professor, what-"
"I was Summoned last night," Snape said, as if it was an everyday occurrence. "There was a conversation in which I dissented, and was hexed for my impertinence."
"Ginny can heal those for you, Professor," Draco said, without thinking. Snape regarded him with a sideways look.
"Who do you think creates those healing potions and salves for her?"
Suitably chagrined, Draco didn't want to chance another silky rebuke.
"The conversation that earned me these wounds would be of particular interest to you, Draco. It centered on your mother."
"She's alive?" Draco asked neutrally, trying to hold back the bile that was now roiling in his stomach.
"Of course she is. Do you think the Dark Lord would trouble himself with speaking of the dead? They're of no use to him, and therefore they cease to exist."
"What did you find out?" Draco queried, digging his fingers into the arms of the chair. Despite Snape's words, Draco knew Snape cared a lot more than he let on.
"Some two weeks ago a Muggle farmer reported to the local law enforcement that he thought he had seen a rather large man abducting a tall blonde woman from an outbuilding on his land. Funnily enough, he couldn't remember very much about it, and in fact questioned his own sanity. He felt he should turn it in just in case he wasn't mistaken."
Draco sat, stunned. Why had it taken two weeks for this to be known?
"I suppose you are wondering why it took this long for this information to come to light? Yes? So happens that one of the local gendarmes is a former Hogwarts student who lives entirely as a Muggle. It took him a bit, but as he told Dumbledore, he hadn't thought about Obliviate in some time. Not to mention that the only tall, blonde witch he could think of was your mother."
"If they're taking the risk of moving her, that means she's still useful to them," Draco said slowly, rolling the thought around in his head. "That tells me that my father has either had a change of heart, or he's trying to lure you or me, or both, out into the open as traitors."
"Likely you're right," Snape said calmly. "I found out last night that it was Goyle Senior who was moving your mother."
"What caused the dissent, Professor?" Draco asked with a sinking feeling. He just knew that Snape had been injured because he had probably objected to his mother's rough handling.
"I suggested that she be kept in one place, so that she could be well-fed and healthy, because dead or near-dead bait does not make the predator bite. I also recommended that if they insisted on moving her to place to place, that perhaps they send someone more talented with charms than Goyle."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Draco found himself laughing a little.
"I don't know, sir, maybe if they keep sending Goyle we can get new reports," Draco said, picturing his classmate's bumbling father trying to cast a spell on a curious Muggle from long distance.
Snape smiled thinly. "It is slightly humorous to think of his lack of sense or magical ability. There are only two things that I am grateful for in this whole turn of events. First, that Goyle slipped up. Second, Narcissa was always experimenting with wandless magic. In addition to being formidable no matter what her disposition, I feel she could most probably hex his balls off."
Goggling slightly, Draco stared at his professor, who merely let the corners of his mouth tip up.
***
It was a Saturday afternoon in Grimmauld Place, and Draco and Ginny were holed up in her bedroom. She had gone to the Muggle store and bought a huge rubber band that she explained was used by Muggles to hold liner bags in rubbish bins. She'd split it in half, and fashioned a serviceable physical therapy device for him. He sat on the bed while she tended to him.
He was flexing his muscles, rolling his ankle as she checked for tenderness and any residual swelling. Since her was out of the splint, she felt he was rapidly improving and had said as much in passing to her father. Arthur surprised her by asking for regular updates on Draco's progress. When pressed, Arthur admitted it was because the Order wanted to train him in other methods of stealth, tracking and surprise.
"We can't do it unless he's in tip-top shape. Moody, Tonks and Kingsley all want cracks at him," her father had said. "Especially Tonks."
Oh, sure. As if that wouldn't result in some sort of bloodshed.
Draco was busy trying not to sprout an erection every time she touched his feet. Gritting his teeth, he wondered furiously if feet were supposed to be some sort of erogenous zone. Hell, she was only being clinical and his cock wanted to say hello.
"I think you're doing a lot better," Ginny said, looking up at him from where she sat at his feet. "In fact, there might be an opportunity for some physical training."
"How's that?" he asked, watching her slim fingers press around the site of the break.
"Well, the Order felt you could begin working with them," she said, careful to deliver the news calmly. "In fact, your cousin has expressed interest in helping you."
Draco snorted. "That multicolor bint? I don't think so."
"Don't be like that, Draco. She's your family."
"By blood only," he scoffed. Her hands stilled on his foot.
"And isn't that what you stand for? Blood loyalty? She didn't ask to be a half-blood."
Anger welled in his chest.
"You're twisting my words," he said bitterly.
"Am I?" she returned calmly.
He didn't answer, and frankly was afraid to. He hadn't met his colorful relation until just a few years ago. His mother had told him tactfully that the Black sisters did not see their black sheep after she married a Muggle, and it was better that way for all of them. Privately, Lucius told Draco about the blood betrayal Andromeda Black had perpetrated against their most noble house, and that it was not to be borne. All of that being said, he knew deep down that it really wasn't a decent reason to hate her. But over two decades of ingrained racism was hard to overcome.
"I think we're done here," Ginny said, rising to her feet and not looking directly at him. "I'm going to the lounge."
She started toward the door when his quiet voice stopped her.
"My mother has been seen alive," he said, desperate to change the subject, to bring it back to something less controversial.
She stopped short, ceased in mid-step, heart suddenly thumping in her chest. Alive. Despite whatever things she had heard about Narcissa Malfoy, she was still Draco's mother, and he still had a right to love and care about her. He had taken to her own mother surprisingly well, and it was clear he needed the support. Happiness welled within her, and she found it was more for Draco than for his mother, though she was of course relieved that she was still living.
"Oh, Draco, that's brilliant!" she said, a smile lighting up her face. Rushing toward him, she stepped between his spread-out knees and hugged him tightly.
"I'm so glad," she said into his ear.
He was so startled that it took him a moment to put his arms around her too.
"I am too," Draco murmured into her neck.
She pulled away, releasing him but still standing between his legs. She was at eye level for the first time since they had been children.
"How did you find out?" she bubbled.
Draco reiterated his conversation with Snape, leaving out the part about his wounds.
"You could use some of the training the Order is offering to help find her!" Ginny suggested excitedly. "I know Tonks would help you. Kingsley too."
"Malfoys don't need training," he rejoined childishly, a hint of a smile crossing his lips.
"And again I say, if that were true, you wouldn't be here," she replied, the same sort of smile gracing her face. He rolled his eyes.
And in those few, silent seconds, they both realized that Draco had rested his hands about her hips and waist after releasing her.
Her face turned tomato red and she stepped away from him.
"Right. Er, the lounge. Yes. Just going to catch up on some reading."
And the redhead beat a hasty retreat down the hall, allowing the blond time alone to recall the exact feel of her lush hips under his hands.
He couldn't help but feel embarrassed and shameful when he knocked off for a wanking session disguised as an afternoon nap.
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