Haven
Chapter 1
Aching and covered in mud, he used the last vestige of his energy to pull himself onto his horse.
"Go," he whispered, stroking the horse's mud splattered mane. Holding onto the reins, he was sprawled over the horse's back, willing his leaden feet to stay in the stirrups. He urged the horse on gently, clucking with his tongue. Time was running out and if he didn't send the message, it would be too late.
The horse neighed softly, happy to be reunited with its master and started to gallop across the plains. Faster and faster they went as the pair ate up large distances hurriedly. It was but a day's journey to the village and he desperately hoped that his horse had the steam to make it.
In the tree filled yard, a young woman was seated in a swing; her hair was swaying gently in the breeze. She had one hand on the seat next to her while the other was holding the rope near her head. Sighing gently, she leaned her head on her hand. It was so boring being cooped up. They had told her she had to stay here for a few days so that if any messengers were to come, there would be someone there to pass them along. She very much wanted to be on the front lines. It was what she trained for, but they had told her that her skills were too valuable to be lost in the chaos of battle. They would bring them to her; the ones too far gone for the mediwitches to save.
He was almost there. He recognized the change in flora that told him he was now in the countryside. Long, thin grass was replaced with thick brush and the sweet smell of jasmine. He had been traveling for a day and a half now. It had been a mistake to stop the night before at the lake. The brief rest he had hoped for had turned into several hours of deep sleep. Cursing himself for his weakness, he had immediately risen and rode through the rest of the morning. The relentless sun was beating down on his neck, burning it from the middle of the afternoon sky. Almost there. He saw the small path near the woods, between two juniper trees. Just a little bit more. His horse could feel his anticipation and picked up some speed. A small cottage was coming into view. It would have been looked charming if it had shown any signs of life, but it looked weather beaten and worse for wear. The weeds had driven out much of the flowers and the whole house was in desperate need of a fresh coat of paint.
Please let someone be there.
Growing bored, the young woman looked around the yard, seeking a task to busy herself with. Those weeds have been left to grow for far too long. Standing up, she walked to the small shed and looked for something to help her plow the ground. Seeing only a pair of gardening gloves and a small hoe, she scooped them up and began working on the weed patch near the back door, kneeling in the dirt. She attempted to gently remove each weed but finding them stubbornly gripping the earth, she moved into a squatting position and tried to lean her elbows into her thighs, hoping to gain some leverage. Grunting with the effort, she managed to extricate the crab grass with one deep pull. Smiling at her victory, she moved to the next one.
Finally arriving at the house, he scrambled off his horse, nearly falling face first into the ground. Stumbling up to the steps, he called out. "Hello?! Is anyone here?"
After an hour of some very satisfying weeding, the young woman went inside the house and poured herself a tall glass of lemonade. Stepping onto the back porch, she admired her handiwork as she raised the glass to her lips. After taking a small sip, she looked around at the rest of the yard, noting other places that could use her effort. It would eat up some of her time. It had been so dull lately. There had been no company save the occasional owl from Harry letting her know the situation in London. Speaking of Harry, she hadn't heard from him in several days. She was so busy in her musings that it took her a few minutes to realize that the sound she was hearing was the sound of footsteps on gravel. Was that a voice?
Deciding not to waste any more time on politeness, the young man staggered into the house, fighting his exhaustion as he continued to search for a face. There were dishes in the sink. Someone must be here. Seeing that the back door leading out from the kitchen was slightly ajar, he began to move in that direction when suddenly he saw a young woman step into the room. "Oh, thank Merlin." He saw her running towards him and he realized, somewhat belatedly, that he was losing his footing. As blackness set in, he felt a pair of arms slip under his shoulders. I didn't know angels had red hair.
That was a voice. "Hello?!" she heard. She put her glass down on the steps and made her way back into the house. She saw a young man, dark hair stained with mud, and, was that blood? He was swaying slightly and looked to be near death. She rushed towards him as he was teetering precariously, ready to fall. Catching him before his head hit the ground; she noted how heavy he was. Poor man, he looks as though he's been traveling for days. With some effort, she dragged him to the next room and propped him up against her sofa. Grabbing her wand off the kitchen table, she ran back to the sitting room and pointed it at the prone form, levitating him off the ground.
Having laid him out, she went back into the kitchen to get some rags and a bowl of warm water. Ginny took a seat on the floor and gently mopped up the dirt and blood on his face. After she had cleaned him to the best of her ability, she rung out the cloth once more and tried to pick some of the mud and leaves out of his hair. The hair, which she had originally thought to be brown, was instead, when removed of all debris, a pale white yellow. He's so young, yet he looks as though he's been through a hundred battles. After several futile attempts to divest him of his sodden robes, she settled for opening them up and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. There was little more that could be done until he woke up. As she put the rags away in the kitchen, she heard a neigh and a snort from the front of the cottage. Peering out the window, she saw a filthy horse swishing an equally filthy tail. She felt sorry for the ragged looking beast and went outside with a fresh bowl of water.
Where am I? Opening his eyes, the young man noticed that he was sitting in a rather beaten up sofa with his robes wide open. He quickly sat up and swung his legs to the floor, trying to remember what had happened. He rubbed his face and noted that the mud that had been covering it before appeared to have disappeared. A door opening caught his attention and he stood abruptly searching in his robes for his wand. He relaxed his pose as a young woman stepped in.
Seeing that he was awake, she walked towards him and urged him back into the couch. "You shouldn't be walking around. You look exhausted." She swiftly walked out of the room and returned with a glass of water in hand. "Here, drink this," she said, pressing he glass into his hands. He drank greedily and handed the glass back.
"My horse, he needs-"
"I've already given him some water and an apple," she replied, cutting him off. Satisfied, he nodded. He looked at the young woman sitting next to him some more. She looked oddly familiar. Suddenly it clicked into place.
"Weasley?" he asked in disbelief.
She looked startled. "How do you know my name? Who are you?" she whispered.
Smirking, he replied, "I'll give you one guess."
Only one person she knew ever smirked like that. "Malfoy?!" she squeaked.
Nodding, he spoke, "As nice as this little reunion is, there are important matters at hand." Leaning towards her, he placed a hand on her arm. "I need to speak to Dumbledore," he said urgently.
She shook her head. "That's impossible."
Growing irritated, he increased the pressure on her arm. "And why is that exactly?" he asked.
She narrowed her eyes and looked at him appraisingly. "Because he's dead."
"What do you mean he's dead?" Draco shot out.
She looked at him in wonder. "How could you not know? The news has been all over the wizarding world."
"What do you mean he's dead?" he repeated.
"Malfoy-"
Unable to remain seated any longer, Draco stood quickly. The blood rushed to his head, darkening his vision and making him stagger.
Ginny grabbed his arm in an attempt to steady him. "You're exhausted and you shouldn't be moving around so much."
"Weasley, there's no time for this," he said, shaking off her hand. He started pacing. "I need to speak with someone. Quick, who's running the Order right now? Do you have some parchment? I need to send out some owls. Professor Snape will be able to mobilize, but I'll have to reach him first. Perhaps floo would be faster." At this point he wasn't speaking to Ginny so much as he was muttering to himself. He saw her standing still, staring at him. "What are you looking at?" he barked. "Make haste, Weasley."
Puzzled, but sensing his urgency, she heeded his words. He grabbed the parchment and ink from her hands and began writing furiously. After he had finished, he rolled up his letter and looked at her expectantly. "Well, where is your owl?"
"I don't have an owl," she replied.
He gaped at her. "What do you mean you don't have an owl?"
She huffed. All of his enigmatic mumblings were starting to get to her. "I, mean I don't have an owl. Since you obviously knew that this place was here, Malfoy, you should know that there are no owls allowed at the Haven. It can only be reached by members of the Order who know its whereabouts."
He ran his hands through his dirty hair and muttered an oath. Did this stupid bint not understand that he had an important message to deliver? "Alright then, is this place connected to the floo network?"
She shook her head. "Honestly Malfoy, did you pay any attention when they told you about this place. The only method we have of communicating is by using the Order signal and we only use that if there's trouble."
"Weasley, are you daft? I'm telling you there is trouble. Big trouble. So grab your little wand and send off the signal," he ordered.
"Tell me what this is about," she demanded.
Merlin, he wanted to throttle her. "Look, I will explain everything but…ple…" He swallowed and choked out the offending word. "Please send out that signal first."
She nodded and her eyes promised him that he would be doing a lot of explaining as soon as she came back.
A moment later, Draco saw a flash of light and saw a small, cloudlike object flying quickly through the sky. Relieved that some message would be sent, he relaxed. The fatigue that had caused him to pass out earlier returned and he realized that if he didn't eat something soon, he would probably drop with the effort of staying alive.
Seeing the look on his face, Ginny wasted no time and brought him a bowl of broth. She pushed him back into the sofa and sat down next to him, holding a spoon full of soup up to his mouth.
"I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself, Weasley," he sneered.
"Fine then," she said, and handed the spoon over.
He picked up the utensil, dipped it into the liquid and moved it towards his mouth. His hands, however, were shaking so badly that he ended up spilling most of the soup in his lap. Glaring at the offensive cutlery, he threw it back into the bowl.
"May I help you now?" Ginny asked.
He didn't look at her but nodded, his handsome face now wearing a petulant expression as he frowned at the bowl. She brought the spoon to his lips once more, but this time he opened them and allowed her to feed him. They continued on in this way for a few minutes. It was a miracle how much better he was feeling. He could feel the hot broth pool in his stomach and its warmth seemed to spread to all his limbs.
After he had finished the soup, he leaned back and struggled to keep his eyes open. His lids fluttered closed. Beneath his eyes, Ginny saw dark purple half moons and the rest of his face wasn't faring much better. He looked worn and defeated and Ginny felt a sudden rush of concern.
"Malfoy, you shouldn't sleep here," she whispered gently. Her only indication that he had heard her was a small grunt. "There's an extra room upstairs. I'll help you to it." She helped him into a sitting position and placed one of his arms around her shoulders. They staggered up the stairs together, his significantly greater height making it hard for her to support him. Finally reaching the room, he collapsed onto the bed, mumbling thanks as he kicked off his boots and rolled onto his stomach. Ginny covered him with a quilt and he instantly dropped off into a deep sleep.
Ginny snuffed the candle by the bed and walked slowly to her own room. She knew that it would only take a day or two before a member of the Order came to the cottage in response to her signal, but she couldn't help feeling that time was of the essence. Draco appeared to feel that there was something very important heading their way and while she had known him to be a prat, she had never known him to be stupid.