Haven

potatomaker

Rating: R
Genres: Romance, Mystery
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 18/01/2005
Last Updated: 27/01/2005
Status: in_progress

They had put Ginny in the cottage to keep her safe. But what happens when the biggest threat of all collapses on her doorstep. Will she be able to protect her heart from him and will Draco let her? Can you stop the inevitable? Post-Hogwarts DG

Chapters

1. Chapter 1

2. Chapter 2

1. Chapter 1

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.

2. Chapter 2

Haven

Chapter 2

Sunlight filtered into the small room, illuminating the sleeping, rumpled looking figure spread out on the bed. Draco, feeling rested for the first time in months, shifted slightly. He was still in his clothes, but missing his robes and boots. What time is it? He remembered riding for hours and reaching this little cottage, but what had happened after? His ears perked up as he detected some sounds coming from somewhere below him. A delicious aroma wafted up to meet his nose and he groaned. God, he was hungry. He decided to investigate, swinging his feet to the floor and getting up.

When he made it into the kitchen, he saw that the table was set for two. He walked to the back door and stood in the doorway. Weasley, he thought, remembering now. He saw her kneeling in the mud, waging war with the foliage, her humming occasionally broken by several unladylike grunts. He watched her for a minute and as he took in her red hair, remembering his embarrassing little collapse earlier. He had thought she was an angel. Pushing aside the humiliating memory of having to rely on a Weasley for bodily support, he cleared his throat, hoping to alert her to his presence. He was hungry and it was about time he was attended to.

She still hadn’t noticed him standing there. “Weasley, I know that wallowing in the mud comes naturally to you, but try to extricate yourself for a moment and make me some food,” Draco called out to her.

Ginny turned her head to where he was standing with an annoyed expression, got up off the ground and put her hands on her hips. “Make you some food? I’m not your servant, Malfoy. If you want some food, you’ll have to ask nicely.”

He let out a long suffering sigh. “Weasley, I’m in pain here. I haven’t eaten in days and who knows -”

She rolled her eyes at his whiny tone and cut him off. “Alright, fine.” She walked towards the house but as she got within a few feet of him, she wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Merlin, you smell. There is no way I am letting you eat in my kitchen unless you take a bath first,” she said, pushing past him.

Following her in, he exclaimed indignantly, “I don’t smell! Malfoys never smell!”

“Well this one does, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll march upstairs and take a bath.”

Sensing that he wouldn’t win this argument, he grabbed his satchel off his horse, huffed his way up the stairs and threw the bathroom door shut behind him. It had been quite a while since he had had a decent bath. He turned on the showerhead and peeled off his clothes as steam started to fill the room. He stepped in and was instantly in ecstasy as the hot spray hit his body. He had lathered up and was really enjoying himself when he heard a small knock.

“Malfoy? I have a towel for you.”

“Just leave it,” he replied, not bothering to thank her.

Finishing up, he opened the shower door and reached with one hand for the towel. He found the hem of the cloth and jerked it towards him; his ears were instantly accosted with a piercing shriek.

“Malfoy! I’m not your towel! Let me go,” she insisted as she tried to regain her footing and push herself off him. Her hands were frantically groping for something to hold onto but they only managed to find his wet torso. He had pulled her flush along his body and it took a moment before he unhanded her. She quickly took several steps back, threw his towel at him and ran out of the room.

Taking it, he covered himself up and stepped out of the shower. As he dried himself off, he couldn’t help smirking at the thought of her discomfort. She had gotten a good look he was sure and, never being one to question the obvious, he was certain that he had met with her approval.

Meanwhile, a mortified Ginny was trying to put the incident out of her mind as she washed her hands, hoping to rid them of the memory of what his naked chest had felt like. She warmed up the stew she had made earlier, and after ladling it into two bowls, she placed them on the table and sat in one of the chairs. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for Malfoy. Her hands didn’t feel quite right in her lap. Maybe they’d be better off on the table. No, that doesn’t feel right either. Shifting again, she folded her arms across her chest. There we go. Humming a broken tune, she rocked a bit in her chair. What’s taking so long? He just has to put on clothes. She instantly regretted that thought as the image of a naked Malfoy popped into her head.

While she was thinking, Ginny was completely unaware of the fact that Draco had already come down the stairs and was standing near the table, watching her face change expressions, blushing harder as time wore on. He smirked again. He had a feeling he knew what she was thinking about. He would have to remember to find a way to use this to his advantage later, but right now, his stomach was achingly empty and as charming as her little display was, it was time to eat.

“Weasley -”

His voice had startled her badly and she knocked over a glass full of water as she turned toward him. Ginny quickly tried to pick up the pieces and, in her haste, she cut the side of her palm on a particularly nasty looking shard. Cursing, she rushed to the sink to let the water wash the blood off her wound.

“Merlin, Weasley. Why did you pick that piece up?” Draco quickly strode over to the sink to look at her hand. Taking it out of the water to inspect it, he held her wrist and brought it close to his face. Where’s the cut? Ginny quickly snatched back her hand.

“It’s fine, Malfoy. Nothing to be concerned about,” she said quickly.

“What are you talking about? I just saw you slice your hand open on that glass. Why didn’t you just Reparo it?” He tried to get a better look at her hand but she was holding it behind her. “Weasley, not two seconds ago, there was a gash the size of a Galleon on your palm and now, it’s somehow miraculously gone?”

“You weren’t looking at it properly. It was barely a scratch,” said Ginny as she pulled out her wand and put the glass back together. “I believe you said you were hungry. Why don’t you have a seat?’ she asked politely.

Draco was watching her warily. Large cuts didn’t simply disappear but he could see that she wouldn’t be offering any explanations at the moment and so he decided to oblige her. There would be time later to find out what was going on.

Seating himself, he placed the cloth napkin in his lap and spooned the stew into his mouth. Sweet Merlin. What does Weasley put in the food? After taking a few more greedy spoonfuls he looked up at her. She was dutifully eating her food; her eyes fixed on her bowl.

Feeling restless, he decided to voice a question that had been poking about in his head. “How long will it be before a member of the Order sees the signal and comes here?”

She shrugged. “Usually no more than a day. They’re very quick to respond but it takes time to travel here since the wards around this place don’t allow you to Apparate in or out.”

He raised his eyebrows. “This place is like a fortress. No owls, no floo, no Apparition.” He looked at her shrewdly. “They must be trying to protect something important if they’re willing to go to all that trouble.” Ginny shrugged again, saying nothing.

Draco nodded thoughtfully as he chewed. “So someone should be here tomorrow morning then. You know, this isn’t the most efficient system for getting information out in an emergency,” he commented.

Ginny furrowed her brow at his words. “No, someone should be here by tonight.”

Draco looked at her, confused.

“It’s already been a day, Malfoy. You passed out on the couch yesterday.”

He spluttered, “I most certainly did not pass out! Wait a moment…yesterday? I thought I got here earlier this morning.”

“You’ve been asleep for a day, Malfoy,” Ginny said.

He continued to look at her astonished. He knew he had been tired, but to sleep for a whole day? No wonder he was hungry.

He pondered this new information and said no more. Each was lost in their thoughts and no more conversation was attempted. Ginny occasionally snuck glances at Draco, trying to figure out what he was doing here. She had heard that he had been working with the Order for some time but had no idea as to why or what he was doing. She narrowed her eyes. Before she had begun living in the cottage, she had heard several rumors about the Malfoy heir. It was widely believed that he was one of Voldemort’s staunchest supporters, but it was hardly a fact that he would have paraded around. She couldn’t be sure, but then how did he know that this cottage even existed? She would have to remember to keep her guard up until she found the truth.

Draco could sense there was something going on with the Weasley. First that whole glass incident and then what was with all the protection? He needed answers and now with Dumbledore dead, he had a feeling they would be much harder to come by. He could tell that she was dying to know what his plans were. Those looks she kept giving him hadn’t gone unnoticed. He didn’t have time to play with weasels. The sooner a member of the Order arrived, the better. It wasn’t his ideal situation to be cooped up in a house with the sister of his enemy but he seemed to be lacking options recently.

Draco wasn’t a man used to waiting for others. He was a man of action and had always taken a situation and considered all of its perspectives. There was no time in life, and even less in war, to be indecisive or slow. You considered your options, worked them out, then chose the one which best suited your goals. It was that simple, and he found he had little patience for those who were unable to think similarly.

Finishing up, Draco pushed his chair back from the table, stood up and made to leave.

“Where do you think you’re going?” demanded Ginny. She had just put her plate in the sink and was now leaning against the counter.

He looked at her in surprise. “Outside. I need to check on my horse,” he said, taking a few steps towards the door.

“No, you’re not,” she replied, shaking her head.

At this, Draco stopped walking, turned, and stared at her. “What do you mean I’m not?”

“I’m mean, you’re not. You’re going to pick up your plate, bring it to the sink, and wash it,” she informed him.

“I don’t wash dishes, Weasley,” he said.

“Malfoy, while you’re in this house, under my hospitality, you will wash dishes. In fact, you will not only wash dishes, you will clean up after yourself and in general, make an effort to be as little a nuisance as possible.”

The tone of her voice grated on his nerves. Who did she think she was? “You’ve lost your mind, Weasley, if you think that I will be doing any manual labor. And let’s be clear, this is not your house. I don’t know what you’re doing here and honestly, I don’t care. This place is for Order members and I believe that I have been one for the last few years so you can take that hospitality and shove it.” Self-righteous little witch.

“How dare you?!” she cried indignantly. There had never been any love lost between the two of them. In fact, she had barely seen him since he had left Hogwarts. He may have been on their side now, but he seemed to still feel a sense of superiority over her. In spite of this, she had been extremely considerate towards him after he had collapsed in her arms and this was the thanks she was going to get? Trust Malfoy to think he could walk all over a Weasley.

“You know, you are right about one thing; you have been an Order member, but not the most loyal. I’ve heard the rumors about you,” she stated accusingly. “They say you’re working for the Dark Lord. But this is all just a convenience for you isn’t it? The minute you figure out which side will come out ahead, that will be the side you choose. You’ve always looked out for yourself. That’s why you were upset when you found out that Dumbledore is dead. You were counting on his protection and hoping he’d keep you out of Azkaban, you sod.”

He could feel the pressure in his head rise. She doesn’t know anything. Why was it that whenever he tried to do the right thing, he was being opportunistic and whenever Pothead did the right thing, he was being noble? Maybe he was being a bit opportunistic in, but that didn’t make his actions any less noble. He had made many sacrifices in the last few years and while he didn’t expect adulation, he did expect some respect.

Tired of being accused, he lashed out, “You know nothing about what I’ve been doing, so don’t presume to have any idea as to what my life has been like. I haven’t had the luxury of letting others make my choices for me.” At this Ginny snorted. “What? You think that just because my father was a Death Eater that it meant I would be following in his footsteps? I’ve had to give up the world I know; all to fight for what’s right. Some of us have had to make these decisions for ourselves at the risk of losing our lives!” he finished. His breathing was erratic and was the only indication that his control was slipping. He hadn’t meant to say all that. Either the last few weeks had been getting to him or that wonderful lunch had loosened his tongue.

“Oh yes,” Ginny taunted, “poor little rich boy. Did little Draco have trouble telling Daddy to bugger off? You know what I think? I think that if you truly cared about doing the right thing, you wouldn’t have been such a bastard to my brother and Harry over the years. Who do you think you’re kidding, Malfoy? Poor Draco Malfoy,” Ginny mocked, “he’s so misunderstood.”

Unable to take it any longer, he lunged at Ginny. She took a step back, thinking he would strike her but was surprised when, instead, he stopped short and stood only a foot in front of her. He yanked open the left cuff of his shirt, the button popped off and hit the stone floor with a slight ping, and shoved the sleeve up to his elbow.

Holding his forearm in her face, he shouted, eyes filled with fury, “Take a good, long look, Weasley! What do you see?!”

She hadn’t been expecting to see him get so fierce. Had he honestly taken her words so seriously? He seemed to be genuinely offended by what she had said. While Ginny didn’t regret most of her words, she did regret the last few that she had taunted him with. Swallowing, she forced her gaze away from his stony eyes and looked at his arm.

“Nothing,” she said. “There’s nothing there.” She was right. The pale skin was unmarred. He continued to peer into her eyes. Evidently seeing something that satisfied him, he nodded and took a step back. Somehow the anger he felt before had dissipated with her admission and now he felt only weary.

He didn’t know why he had shown her his arm. He didn’t need to justify himself or his actions and he definitely didn’t need to prove himself worthy of being in the company of a Weasley. But some part of him expected more from her. In school, while he had tormented her brother, he had mostly left her alone. He didn’t know if it was because he simply didn’t see her as often as she was a year younger or because she never seemed to give his taunts much importance.

Secretly, he knew that a small part of him had respected her though he would never tell her as much. She had spunk and never backed down from a challenge. She was like her brothers Fred and George in that respect. Even the odd time that he had been in an altercation with her, she had always firmly held her ground, kept her cool and gave as good as she got. Her brother Ron, in contrast, had always lost control. It was the reason Draco had taunted him so much. Control was a trait he valued, and he saw anybody’s inability to maintain it as a sign of weakness. A weakness he had shown this afternoon. He had never shown his arm to someone, but he had felt compelled to prove her wrong. She wasn’t the first person who had judged him by the actions of his father and he was tired of having to refute the assumptions made by people who knew nothing about him. He was slightly disappointed to find that in that one respect, she was exactly like her brother.

She had done exactly what her brother would have done, Ginny realized now. She had been feeling tense ever since he had mistaken her for a piece of terrycloth in the shower. No…she had been feeling tense ever since he had crashed his way into her peace and quiet. She had been bored, but dropping Draco Malfoy into her lap was not the sort of stimulation she had had in mind. Some garden gnomes would have done nicely. At least, they would have given her a chance to brush up on her degnoming skills and get some exercise in the process.

She hadn’t wanted to be here, in this cottage, and that had irritated her. Then he had stormed his way in and began ordering her around. That had irritated her as well. Other members of the Order saw fit to tell her what to do, and by god Draco Malfoy would not be one of them. It was frustrating enough that they had send her here without her having any say in the matter. Having Draco Malfoy trying to pull the same thing had pushed her to the limit.

She was sick of being second to everyone else, so she had tried to assert some authority over him in the only way she knew how. It had been a futile attempt when she had chastised him for not picking up after himself. She was chafing in her current situation; she was tired of being understanding. He had stormed his way in and then, on top of it, had expected her to act like some sort of servant. If there was one thing that irked Ginny beyond belief, it was being used as a doormat.

She had goaded him, she knew, but she hadn’t expected him to lose control. She had felt a tiny twinge of guilt when she saw that his arm bore no Dark Mark. She had misjudged him. Ginny knew that she had taken her frustration out on him, but she had not expected him to come at her with such volatility. She had always known him to maintain a cool head at school. It was her brother who had always acted like a Hippogriff with a wand up his bum. She knew that the best way to deal with Malfoy was not to give him the opportunity to find a weakness. You kept your head with him. If you did that, he would respect you. Today, however, she had lost her head.

His reticence as to why he was here reminded her that there was much she didn’t know about the Order. It had brought back her childhood fear of being left out and she had responded to it by baiting him. As much as she didn’t like him, she couldn’t say that she knew him. She knew nothing about the person he had become now.

He was tired, physically worn out, and he didn’t need this. Now he could remember why he hadn’t bothered her at school; she was exhausting. She was always ready for a fight and it took all his energy to suitably shut her up. And here she was now, rebutting him at regular intervals, demanding unnecessary explanations, and well, it was enough to make a bloke explode. There was only so much nagging he could take and the only person allowed to do that was his mother. He was on his guard already and adding to the tenseness he had been feeling for the last several months was this…this weasel squawking at him.

They both stood there, looking at each other, uncertain as to what to do next, each mentally chastising themselves for losing their tempers. Ginny, feeling the need to apologize, broke the silence first, “Malfoy, I -”.

“Look, Weasley, just don’t,” he said wearily. “You and I both know you would be lying if you said you were sorry and all that rot. Now you know, and that’s the end of it.”

“You know, it’s not really my fault that I made that assumption,” Ginny said, feeling mildly disgruntled that he had brushed off her apology. True, she wasn’t completely sorry. How was she to have known? “It’s not as though you’ve made any effort to correct the impression that you were one of Voldemort’s supporters.”

“So it’s my fault now, is it?” he asked sardonically. “The wizarding world that preaches tolerance believes that the son of a Death Eater must also be a Death Eater and it’s because I didn’t make enough of an effort to appear to be all for the light? What would you rather I do, Weasley?” He took a step back and tugged his cuff back down his arm. “Openly declare my disgust for the Dark Lord? It’s not as though anything bad could happen if I did that now is there? It’s so typical of you Gryffindors to wear your heart on your sleeves that you assume anyone who has the slightest control over their emotions must be hiding something.”

“No need to be sarcastic,” Ginny sniffed.

Draco let out a short laugh that came out more as a bark.

Ginny tried again. “I shouldn’t have said that. No matter our history, I shouldn’t have let it cloud my judgment or jumped to conclusions.”

“Look, don’t worry your little Gryffindor heart about it. Everyone else thinks I’m a Death Eater. Why should you be any different?” he stated as he smiled ruefully.

Ginny felt she should be affronted by his words. He had said them in a throw away fashion, but she wondered if their meaning didn’t somehow bother him. Not knowing what else to do, she nodded.

”So, what do we do now?” she asked.

“We wait,” he stated simply. There wasn’t much they could do. Ginny knew that she would be at the cottage for some duration. Her only reprieve from the solitude had been Draco, but soon he would go as well. He would give his information and then try to leave again, he decided. He had done his part. They couldn’t ask him to do anymore and then he would be able to leave and finally have some peace.

Both Ginny and Draco were tired after their argument and so, kept to themselves for the remainder of the day. Draco spent time with his horse, washing the mud out of its mane and combing down its coat. Ginny went back to the yard, intending to finish her weeding. She quickly grew tired of this task and instead sat once again in her swing, thinking about what Draco had told her. She could hear the horse’s snorts from where she sat, and if she craned her neck, she could see Draco rubbing the beast’s neck, whispering into its ear.

Who was this person? In school, she had seen him act like a prat and had come to expect that sort of immaturity from him. However, seeing his urgency and how he completely ignored the fact that she was a Weasley – well, except for that comment about wallowing in the mud – she couldn’t help but wonder if it hadn’t all been an act. She stood up and tried to get a better glimpse of him. She was prepared to fight with him as she had done many times in the past, but he didn’t seem to want to have anything to do with her. He had spent the whole of the evening with that horse and when they had gone in for dinner, he had stayed quiet. She couldn’t quite make him out, and the curiosity she had gained from being the youngest child in a large family was rearing its head. She had never been good with enigmatic people who sought to conceal who they are or what they know. She was forthright in her dealings, she believed, and did not like it when others were not as well.

After Ginny had gone inside the house, she decided to rummage through some of the things she had brought with her. Several of her family members had given her books or magazines to keep her occupied. She had always been an avid reader, though not quite as ferocious as Hermione. To Ginny, reading had always helped her to relax. Picking up a copy of a muggle novel Hermione had recommended, Ginny began to read.

After a few minutes of reading, she put down her book and walked to the front door. She had heard voices outside. When she opened the door, she saw Draco shaking hands with the Order member who had responded to the signal she had sent out. Walking towards her, Thunderbolt in hand was Harry Potter. His green eyes brightened when he caught sight of Ginny and he quickly ate up the distance between them, enveloping her in a bone crushing hug.

“Merlin, Gin. It’s good to see you. We’ve all missed you at home,” he said.

“Hello Harry,” she replied. She sounded strained and Harry, having grown somewhat more perceptive over time, noticed. He pleaded quickly with his eyes, asking her to be understanding but she looked away quickly. “Come in.”

Harry followed her inside and behind him walked Draco, puzzled by this cold reception he had seen Weasley give Potter. Hadn’t she always worshipped Pothead? It seemed odd to him that Weasley would rebuff Potter when he had come to her with open arms. Maybe Weasley has more sense than I’d given her credit for.

Not being one to mince words, Draco got started immediately. “I know who it was Potter. I saw it myself.”

Harry looked at Ginny, silently asking her to give them some privacy.

“I’ll just be in the kitchen then,” she said, walking out.

Harry turned his attention once again to Draco as the latter spoke once more.

“Look, Potter. I’m not sure why he did it, but I was there when he did. I saw him tell Voldemort.” Harry nodded at this piece of information and began pacing.

“I can find out more, but I needed to tell someone what had happened and I couldn’t risk going to London. As soon as you tell the others, I can go back,” Draco said as he followed Harry’s motions with his eyes. “Did you hear me, Potter?”

Harry looked up at this and stopped walking. “You can’t go back Draco. You’ve been compromised.”

Surprised, Draco asked, “How? I’ve been so careful. How do you know?”

“It’s been out around London that you’re alive. Someone saw you.” Harry shook his head. “I told you to keep the glamour charms up at all times. Did you not think I was serious, Malfoy?”

“I knew that it was serious!” he shouted. “I took all the precautions. How could someone have found out?”

“That’s what we don’t know. It’s not safe for you to be out there now.” Harry started pacing again. “It’s a mess in London. People are starting to fear that we don’t have enough power to fight Voldemort with. Some of the pureblood families that were on the fence before have started aligning themselves with Voldemort to ensure protection. You can’t go back there.” He stopped and looked Draco in the eye. “Your father is looking for you.”

“Shit,” Draco said succinctly, rubbing his face. “So what do I do then?” he demanded. “You said once I did this, that I could leave. I’ve done all I can, now let me get on with my plans.”

“No way, Malfoy. You haven’t fulfilled your end, and there is still more left to be done. It would be safer…it would be best if you stayed here for a while.”

At this Draco exploded. “What do you mean stay here?! You promised, Potter!”

Harry glared at Draco. “Look, it’s not as though I had planned this. You will get to leave, but just wait a few days alright? Let me make sure that it’s safe.”

Glaring back, Draco stated, “Fine. A few days Potter, but then I’m leaving, whether you like it or not.”

“Fine,” said Harry, sighing.

“Why did you never mention he had died, Potter?” Draco asked quietly.

Unsure as to whom Draco was referring to, Harry looked puzzled. As understanding dawned, a brief flash of pain made its way across Harry’s features as he said, “It was hard getting any information out to you, Malfoy. All owls were being tracked and at the time, it seemed more important for you to continue working.”

Draco nodded at this. “I think Weasley is waiting for you.” Seeing an opportunity, he asked, “Potter, what is she doing here? When I first came in, she had acted like she was expecting me. Well not me exactly, but someone. She was all prepared to take care of me.”

“I think it’s best if I let Ginny decide if she wants to tell you,” Harry said as he walked towards the kitchen.

Going in, he saw Ginny sitting at the small kitchen table, hands clasped in her lap. Her expression was grim and didn’t change as he entered the room. He took a seat across from her and tried to decide how to begin.

Still not looking at him, Ginny asked, “Has anything changed, Harry?”

He sighed and looked at her pityingly. “No, Gin. I still need to keep you here.”

Nodding, she stood. “All right then. Well. You can see yourself out.”

“Please, Ginny, wait,” Harry pleaded. “Can’t you understand? I’m not doing this to punish you. We all just want you to be safe.”

“Safe?” she spat out. “You call this safety? It’s a prison. I have no connection to the outside world.” She paused. “Look, I can understand that it’s not the best idea to have me walking about in broad daylight. But why can’t I stay at Grimmauld Place?” she asked. “I could look after the place for you and still do what you need me to,” she said hopefully.

“Ginny, you know that if we kept you there, you would eventually be found. Nobody knows about this place. Not even your family. The only way to find you is through me.” Licking his lips, he tried another avenue of reason. “We’ll need to bring people to see you and if you’re at Grimmauld Place, then there’s a chance that the headquarters of the Order would be discovered. We can’t take that risk, nor can we take the risk of Voldemort finding out you’re in London. He’s been getting desperate trying to locate you.”

Sensing defeat, Ginny inhaled deeply. She shrugged her shoulders carelessly and asked, “Did you at least bring what I asked you to?”

Harry smiled and reached into the pocket of his robes. “Yeah, it’s the latest model. You’ll have a great time with this thing.” He pulled out a shrunken package and handed it over to her.

Ginny took the item and pocketed it. “It’s ok then? For me to be out with it?”

Harry nodded. “I’ve put up all the proper wards to keep people from seeing you. As long as you stay within the enclosure, you’ll be fine. I couldn’t bring the rest of what you asked. I’ll come again in two days, on Wednesday, to drop off the rest of the supplies. Was there anything else you needed?”

Ginny appeared thoughtful for a moment. “Gloves, gardening gloves and something to help me take the weeds out with.”

“You can just use your wand, Ginny.”

“I know, but I have nothing else to do and I like it. It gives me a sense of purpose.” She smiled for the first time since his arrival.

“Then, of course. I’ll bring everything Wednesday.” He ran a hand through his hair and looked towards the sitting room. “I should ask Malfoy if he needs anything before I head out.”

Harry and Draco talked briefly, after which, Harry said his goodbyes to the pair. Alone again, Ginny and Draco looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

“Well, it appears that you’ll have to put up with me for a few more days,” said Draco, leaning against the arm of the couch.

“It would appear so,” she replied neutrally. “Well, I’m off to bed, Malfoy. Think you’ll be alright? I don’t need to worry about you collapsing all over the place?”

“I think I can manage, Weasley,” he said sourly. Watching her as she left the room, Draco wondered how he’d get through the next few days. As irritating as she was, he knew that he could make it as long as she stayed out of his way. He didn’t want to be here, but Potter held the cards and he seemed determined to have his way. Thinking of the day that he would be free from all this, Draco smiled slightly. One day, he knew, this would all be behind him and he would never have to look back.