Love is Blind

moogle

Rating: PG13
Genres: Drama, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 6
Published: 01/12/2006
Last Updated: 03/03/2008
Status: paused

When Ginny Weasley took a job advertised in the daily prophet as a nanny, she never expected it to be to Draco Malfoy's eight year old son...

Chapters

1. Prologue

2. We Meet Again

1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter characters….

Warning: None as of yet.

Prologue

Silver eyes glanced at the ticking clock, and the man let out a long audible sigh.

”How much longer are they going to make me wait?” he asked no one in particular while casually sweeping the pale blond strands of hair away from his eyes.

He glanced around the small office he was standing in, and his eyes instantly latched onto a shadowy figure coming towards the window. Something was flying towards him, and he let out a muttered oath as he quickly pulled out his wand. Being too impatient had allowed his guard to fall.

The man relaxed as he realised it was only an eagle owl and snatched the letter from the nervous owl. Sighing he quickly scanned the contents and once again muttered a strangled oath as he quickly disapparated.

”What happened?” he demanded as he apparated into an elaborately decorated, spacious room.

”Sir,” the house elf bowed ridiculously low, to which the man merely sighed.

”Enough of that! What happened to make my mother call me?” the man asked harshly.

The house elf quickly gathered his wits. “Mistress did not say. She only told me to send the letter.”

”I don't have time for this!” the man snarled and started to head towards the disapparation point.

”Draco, are you not even going to talk to me?” a soft voice said sadly from behind him.

Draco turned around, his silver eyes glinting dangerously in the light. “What do you want from me?” he asked tiredly. Seeing his mother's sad azure eyes had made all his anger fade into unbearable pain. The last time he had looked into those eyes they had been filled with tears. Draco had left the continent and did not return… They hadn't spoken for five years.

”Your father is dead,” Narcissa Malfoy said quietly, her voice breaking slightly.

Draco stood there completely still as the words echoed in his brain. “How?” he finally managed to say.

”Sang Maladie,” she said heavily.

Draco nodded. For some reason he felt a strange satisfaction that his father had died a painful and horrendous death. Draco didn't want to delve deeper into those feelings. He already felt sick at his secret glee.

”When?” Draco asked without looking at his mother.

”Three hours ago. You can go see him if you like,” Narcissa said quietly, not realising the conflicting emotions her son was going through.

Draco barely registered her words and silently headed towards the grand master bedroom. Thoughts like scattered threads wove through his brain as he tried to gain control of the situation.

Draco dismissed the house elf with a nod and entered the dark room. The dark velvet curtains were drawn, and the air resonated death in its very silence. There in the middle of the room was the great four-poster bed where his father's body lay.

Draco's breath hitched slightly as he saw the pale and sickly looking face of Lucius Malfoy. Never had Draco seen his father so weak and powerless. Lucius was always proud, strong, and practically oozed superiority. Now he was dead, his body a corpse waiting to rot in the dirt where worms would feed on it.

Draco laughed aloud and immediately felt sick at his own thoughts. He did not want to be like this. He did not want the bitterness that had festered in his heart to control his thoughts, but he found himself unable to forgive the man before him. Even as Lucius lay there dead, the expression of pain still visible on his hollow cheeks, Draco could only laugh at the thought that he was alive, and his father was not.

”What are you thinking, Draco?” Narcissa asked sorrowfully.

Draco jumped slightly, horrified at the thought that his mother had been watching him.

”Can you still not forgive him after all these years?” she continued.

Draco looked away. “I hate him.”

”Draco?” Narcissa said, shocked.

”I hate myself too. I hate that I can't even feel sad that my own father has died,” Draco said bitterly.

”Draco,” Narcissa said gently as she placed her hand on his arm. Draco flinched at her touch, and Narcissa sighed. “Your father…he never meant for you to be hurt,” Narcissa said slowly. “He did love you. No matter what you think.”

Draco continued to stare at the wall, refusing to look into those sad azure eyes. “He couldn't have cared that much.”

”His methods were different, I admit. He thought by pushing you he could show how much he cared. He only wanted you to be strong.”

”Strong?” Draco said harshly as he spun around to face her. “Tell me, Mother, is beating your own son making him stronger?”

”Draco,” Narcissa said sternly, as if to warn him to stop.

Draco didn't listen as he walked closer, his silver eyes so much like his father's boring into her own. “How about torturing?” Draco said in a mocking manner. “At least I understood that,” Draco said as he gave a harsh laugh. “He wanted to make sure I wouldn't give in under torture if I was ever caught…Some twisted way to care for your son, don't you think?”

Narcissa just stared at him, silent tears falling unchecked down her pale face.

Draco sighed and turned away. He knew he had hurt her. She loved Lucius in a way Draco could never understand. He had loved his father at some point too…but that had all changed…
”I've got to go. I have important things to attend to,” Draco said firmly as he made his way to the door.

”You're leaving already?” Narcissa exclaimed. “Why?”

Draco sighed. “This place is full of memories…memories I would rather forget,” he muttered to himself and silently left the room, purposely avoiding looking again at the wasted body of his father.

OOOOOOO

Draco apparated into his house and immediately walked towards the writing table in his room, where he sat down and pulled some parchment towards him. His brow furrowed; he began to write a short letter and quickly sealed it with his wand. He tied it to the beautiful owl by his side.

”You know where to go, Artemis,” he said quickly and watched as the owl took off into the night.

Draco frowned to himself and exited the room, walking quietly down the hallway to a room on his left. He opened the door softly and entered the dark room. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, Draco made his way over towards the bed and sat down on the edge.

He could hear the gentle breathing of his four-year-old son and see the shadowy outline of his small form. Draco gently brushed the hair out of his son's eyes and sighed.

Am I doing the right thing in staying here? Draco thought to himself.

Damien shifted slightly, and Draco stood up softly. He didn't want to wake him.

”Sleep well, Damien,” Draco whispered and quietly left the room.

OOOOOOOOO

Four Years Later…

”A letter, Mr. Malfoy.”

Draco glanced up from his papers and took the letter from the man's hands. Frowning slightly, he broke the seal and began to read….

Dear Mr Malfoy,
We regret to inform you that Narcissa Malfoy died last night of a heart attack. We offer our condolences and are….

Draco stopped reading, a sudden pain curling in his heart. His mother was dead, which meant he was now the heir to the Malfoy inheritance. He had no choice now but to go back to England and take over the manor. He could sell it…No, that wouldn't be right. The Manor had been apart of his family for hundreds of years.

”Are you alright, Sir?” a man asked at Draco's pale expression.

Draco nodded and stood up abruptly. “I'm going back to England. Look after things here, and make sure everything keeps running smoothly. I don't want to find this place in a mess.”
”Yes, Mr. Malfoy,” the man said quickly.

Draco left the room and started walking through the hallways, frowning to himself. He was going home…back to England. It had been so long since he had been there; he didn't know what to expect. Or what people would think of him coming back with an eight-year-old son.

”I wish you were here with me, Adelle,” Draco whispered to himself.

A/N: Please tell me what you think.

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2. We Meet Again

Disclaimer: I did not create any of the Harry Potter characters or storyline.

A/N: Well I had about two hours sleep last night, so not sure how this chapter will turn out (probably with lots of typos, lol). For those of you reading A Stroll in Your Shoes, don’t worry I will be finishing that as soon as I can. I just felt like writing this one today.

We Meet Again

Molly Weasley placed her hands on her well-endowed hips and gave a loud ‘tsk’ of exasperation. “But Ginny dear, think of what you’re doing! You can’t even afford to live in your flat now!” Her brown eyes roamed about the cluttered room with a critical gaze and she sniffed in displeasure. “If you even call this a flat. When was the last time you cleaned?”

Ginny dropped the washing basket of overflowing dirty washing on the messy bed and threw her hands up in tired resignation. “You know what, you’re right mum.”

“I am?” Mrs Weasley questioned cautiously, unsure what her twenty-five year old daughter was planning now. Ginny always had been worryingly impulsive and impractical, and it left her mother with no peace of mind. No wonder Mrs Weasley was going grey faster than she needed to- Ginny would be the death of her, she just knew it.

“Yes.” Ginny huffily pushed her long tomato red hair out of her face and gazed about the room. “I can’t afford this flat. I’m going to move in with you.”

Mrs Weasley could only sigh, rubbing her temples in defeat. “That wasn’t what I had meant dear, and you know it. You’ve got yourself into a right fix and running back home to us won’t solve it.” She smiled in a motherly way and placed her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Now I know you don’t want to hear this but-”

“Mum!” Ginny interrupted with a scowl, pulling herself abruptly away from the hand on her shoulder. “Please don’t talk to me about Derek right now.”

“But-”

“NO!”

Mrs Weasley met those fierce chestnut eyes and decided it was best not to push her daughter right now. She didn’t need Ginny running away from her too after all. Only last week Ginny had ran away from her husband-to-be at the wedding altar- another testament of her unstable personality. If only there were a man who could force her to settle down…

“Well in any case Ginny, you must admit that you are being rather silly at the moment. Look at you! You just quit your job at the ministry so that you didn’t have to see Derek every day, and how will you ever get another job when you have no qualifications? You know that Derek was the one who got you that job.”

Ginny rolled her eyes and plonked herself down on her bed to glare mutinously at the floor. “I know, I know. I’m such a failure aren’t I?”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Well it sure sounds like it!” Ginny snapped, tugging angrily at a loose thread on her sheet. “I know I have no qualifications, I know I can never stick at one job when I actually do get one, and I know it’s all my stupid fault!” She looked up at Mrs Weasley with her chestnut eyes going oddly bright. “I didn’t get an education because of the war. I didn’t go back to continue my education after the war was over because I was thinking I would just get married to Harry and be a happy house wife looking after our ten or so kids.” She sighed in a depressing way and her lips started to tremble pitifully. “Well I never ended up getting married to Harry, and then I realised that fantasy dreams aren’t real and I needed to get back into reality.”

“Sweetie-”

Ginny laughed bitterly and ripped the loose thread right off the sheet. “So here I am in reality- ran away from a marriage that would have made me want to kill myself after a week; living in a flat that I can’t afford and hate anyway- and now-” her chin started trembling too as her eyes started going a blotchy red- “Now I’ll probably find myself working as a toilet cleaner or something.”

Her voice broke, her body shaking with repressed sobs, and then she was finally giving in to the tide of emotions and fell into a stream of hearty tears. Mrs Weasley felt her motherly instincts prodded and quickly rushed over to place soothing arms around her sobbing daughter.

“There, there,” she said softly. “Don’t cry Ginny. We’ll find another job for you. Why don’t you check the Daily Prophet to see if there’s anything you might like, and I’ll start packing your stuff.”

Ginny gave a loud sniff and pulled her face away from her mother, her lips still trembling pathetically. “Okay.”

Mrs Weasley pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to her daughter with an encouraging smile. Ginny took it in her dainty hands and gave a hearty blow. “Thanks mum,” she said with a watery smile.

“There now, you’ll be okay.”

Nodding in agreement, Ginny stood up and started hunting around for her copy of the Daily Prophet. She could hear her mother muttering under her breath as she packed Ginny’s stuff- probably moaning about how dirty everything was.

Ginny stared at her flat and for the first time realised her mother had a point. There were clothes strewn everywhere that weren’t already falling out of the washing basket; her couch was surrounded by dirty plates and take-out boxes; her kitchen was like something from a Friday 13th horror movie with not a space of bench to be seen because of the left over food and dirty dishes, and the bedroom was best left unmentioned.

Of course, this wasn’t because Ginny was lazy in any way. Most of the time she was barely in her flat because she was staying with Derek, and as such never bothered to clean or do the dishes. Since she had run out on him, however, she had not had the heart to clean. She was too depressed, too tired, and too fed up with everything.

Finally she spotted the newspaper sticking out from underneath the couch and pulled it out with a scrunched up face as dust flew up into her mouth and nose. Coughing slightly Ginny unfolded the paper, mentally sighing at the coffee stains splattering the black and white pages.

“Figures,” she muttered to herself, and flicked to the page that held the job advertisements. There was one as an escort; (Well I could certainly do that, Ginny thought with amusement) One as a cleaner for a toilet, which Ginny found even more amusing- and then just when she was giving up hope, she saw the words ‘Nanny Wanted’ tucked away in a small box at the bottom of the page. The coffee stains blurred most of the words describing the job, but she did gather from the ad that the nanny would have to live at the home and cater to an eight-year-old boy who was in need of female companionship and tutoring.

Ginny quickly looked for the name of the person wanting the nanny but that was stained to the point of being completely illegible. She did manage to figure out the address though. The home was in Wiltshire, which she realised instantly was one of the more nicer parts of England. Not a bad bonus.

“Mum, what do you think of this job?”

Mrs Weasley turned around while still training her wand like a conductors baton at Ginny’s stuff that was neatly placing itself in the expanded suitcase at her direction. “Which dear? I can’t see it from here.”

“A nanny for an eight-year-old boy.”

“Oh now that sounds perfect Ginny! You always were wonderful with children.” She placed down her wand and walked over to peer over Ginny’s shoulder at the paper. “When does the job application close?”

Ginny scrunched her face up as she tried to decipher the coffee stained ink. “It doesn’t say, but it’s worth a shot right? I mean I always liked kids, and being a nanny has got to be better than cleaning toilets.”

Mrs Weasley beamed down at her daughter and pinched her cheek gently. “I think you’ll make a wonderful nanny.”

“Thanks mum.” Ginny said with a grin and gave her a quick hug. She had already decided in her mind that this was the only job that would be good for her. She was never very practical with money- useless as a salesperson, and always got bored of paperwork. Being a nanny would be the best thing for her.

Placing one arm around her daughter, Mrs Weasley held Ginny closer to her and gave her a quick kiss on the head. “You see? Everything works out if you just put a little effort in. You’ll be fine Ginny, and this job will be good for you.”

“I know.” Her eyes sparkled happily and a broad smile settled on her lips. She was looking past the smelly old flat now, past the unsatisfactory world she had been living in, because somehow she knew that this could only lead to something wonderful…

OOO

Ginny stared up at the mansion with awe written all over her face. Her eyes were wide, her chin dragging on the ground, and all she could do was stare in wonderment at the old, grand home. The house was huge- so huge in fact that it was too the point of being ridiculous. Pristine white marble stretched high into the sky, large spacious grounds that had might as well been a maze surrounded the home, and if she were lucky she might even be able to live here.

“Wow,” Ginny whispered, walking slowly up to the door. It was almost intimidating, the house growing larger and larger with each ‘crunch’ ‘crunch’ of her heels on the gravel path.

She stopped in front of the large oak door and stared at the brass knocker. Nervously she smoothed down her grey pencil skirt and fixed up her short-sleeved black blouse that hugged her petite frame. She quickly peered into the brass knocker at her reflection and sighed with relief in seeing her hair was still neatly pulled back into an elegant bun and not frizzing out like static waves.

Standing outside this grand home, Ginny was glad that she had listened to her mother in wearing something a little classier rather than the jeans and T-shirt she had wanted to wear. They had argued for half an hour on what Ginny would wear to the interview, and while Ginny said casual would be better, her mother had insisted on her wearing something a little more professional. So here she was in a body hugging grey skirt of soft material, a black summery blouse that seemed to make her tomato red hair stand out even more against her pale skin, and black heels that made her legs appear much longer than they actually were. In short, she looked much more presentable than the girl that had been mooching around her disgusting flat earlier, wearing nothing but an over-large old T-shirt with ice cream stains all over it.

Taking a deep breath Ginny reached out and brought down the knocker twice. She waited nervously, her hands fidgeting with her bag and fiddling with a few loose strands of hair, hoping- no praying that the person would like her enough to hire her. This really was her last chance.

The door opened and Ginny immediately plastered on a smile. She frowned when no one was at the door and suddenly looked down to see a neat little house elf peering up at her through big green eyes.

“Can I help you Miss?” The house elf squeaked.

“Um, yes. I’m here about the ad in the Daily Prophet? I did send an owl…”

The house elf bowed and held the door open for her. “Please come in. I will get the Master for you, if you’ll just follow me.”

Ginny nodded her head and entered the home after the house elf, her eyes unable to help themselves from gazing at all the grandeur around her in admiration. This home was simply beautiful, and the people who owned it were obviously very rich if they had a house elf to serve them.

“In here Miss.”

Ginny turned at the sound of the squeaky voice and followed the house elf into the room. She couldn’t help but let out a breath at the sheer beauty of it. Great glass windows looked out into a field of beautiful flowers that seemed to go on and on; the sun was pouring in through the windows to make the room warm and inviting, and the room itself could not have been described as anything but tasteful elegance.

She watched the house elf leave to go get the Master of the house and turned back to look around the room, which she guessed must be a parlour of some sort. There was a certain feminine touch to the room, and she could tell just by looking at the dainty furniture and pretty flowers that someone had taken great care to plan it.

Her fingers trailed along a soft, white couch, as her eyes examined a pretty little table that was probably used for tea when guests came. Something above the table caught her eye, and she looked up to see a painting of a very attractive woman with long, soft blonde hair and striking blue eyes. Her pale skin was flawless, and in this light she almost seemed like an angel in pure white, with her graceful poise and gentle smile.

“Why do you seem so familiar?” Ginny mused out loud, leaning forward to peer more closely at the woman. The blonde woman merely smiled and said nothing, even though Ginny knew all paintings in the Wizarding World could speak.

“You must be Ginevra, I’m sorry for the wait, I-” The voice suddenly stopped.

Ginny jumped in fright and quickly turned. A tall man was staring at her with an expression akin to complete stunned silence. His brow furrowed slightly as he stared at her through surprisingly grey eyes, and his mouth settled into a frown. He was incredibly handsome, though not in the typical way. His skin after all was quite pale, and his features rather pointy, but there was a certain quality that she found hopelessly attractive in those grey eyes- eyes so grey that they made her feel quite poetic and liken them to a dark stormy sky.

She smiled brightly at him, until certain things about his face started to click in her brain. Her jaw dropped, the smile vanishing in an instant, and she took an incredulous step forward.

“Malfoy?”

He nodded his head almost cautiously. “You must be Ginevra Weasley?”

Pink spread across her cheeks as she nodded her head. What must he be thinking right now in seeing her here? She wasn’t even sure on how she felt seeing him there! It must have been at least eight or nine years since she had last seen him, yet here he was standing right in front of her looking as cool as he pleased. She’d thought he was dead- everyone had thought he was dead… Where had he been all these years?

The surprise on his face had faded now to be replaced with a sort of cool politeness. There was a faint curious gleam in his eyes, but the rest of his expression was frustratingly unreadable. Again she found herself wishing she knew what he was thinking, or at least whether he was going to continue this interview. Malfoy he may be, but she was desperate for a job. This was her only hope in getting something respectable.

“I see,” was all he said in a dispassionate voice, his eyes slowly looking her over critically. She wasn’t sure just what his intention was in doing that, as his eyes didn’t seem to roam from any erotic inspirations. He just seemed to be quietly assessing her for his own haughty reasons- it made her feel suddenly very uncomfortable, and once more she felt her cheeks heating unpleasantly.

Shifting uncomfortably, she frowned to herself as an awkward silence fell around them. She hated silence; she hated it like she hated bad hair days, and feeling a sudden need to shatter the awkwardness, she gave an embarrassed smile at her host. “I um… didn’t know this was your house.”

Draco’s lips twitched with amusement and he casually leant against the door as he stared at her. “This is Malfoy Manor. It’s been in my family for centuries.”

“Oh… right.”

More silence.

Ginny bit her lip and stared at the floor. All the hope she had in getting this job was swiftly slipping down the depressing drain in her mind. He obviously was not impressed to learn that she was a Weasley, or at least she thought he wasn’t. He was just staring at her like she was some particularly fascinating bug that he was about to squash under his shoe.

“So I take it you don’t want me for the job…” she mumbled glumly, still staring dejectedly at the floor.

“No.”

“No?” She looked up at him questioningly, seeing the odd smile curling his lips and the unreadable gleam in his eyes.

“No I don’t want you for this job. You’re far too young.”

Ginny felt her hackles rising and unknowingly placed her hands on her hips. “Too young? I’m twenty-five, and I don’t see what my age has to do with this. You want a nanny, and I’m perfect for that sort of job! I have more nieces and nephews than I can count, giving me more experience with children than any other person that will ever come to your doorstep, and well-” she lifted her chin up and gave him a haughty look- “I’ll do a damn better job of being a nanny to this boy than I’m sure you ever could.”

Once the words were out of her mouth she instantly regretted them. Getting angry with the employer was not exactly going to get her in his good books, but her mouth always did have a way of running away from her when she was angry or on the defensive.

To her surprise Draco only laughed softly. He pushed himself away from the wall, his grey eyes flickering with amusement, and walked up to her with that same odd smile on his lips- a sort of half curl of the lip that wasn’t quite a smile, but not quite a smirk.

“Maybe you can, Miss Weasley, but my son has needs that no ordinary witch can handle. You have to have certain qualities and qualifications to be his nanny.”

Ginny blinked when she heard the word ‘son’. She wasn’t really sure why she had not realised sooner that this boy was obviously Draco Malfoy’s son, but it did certainly put a new light on the composed man before her. He must have had that boy when he was at least seventeen or eighteen. She realised then there was a lot she did not know about Draco Malfoy.

“And what are those?” she asked curiously, watching his handsome, mocking face with a torn sense of admiration and frustration. It was just Malfoy after all: Malfoy who had an eight-year-old son. Where was the wife though? Or was there even a wife?

Stop thinking! Just stop thinking before you start creating some sordid soap opera about this man and his son!

She looked back at him politely and waited for him to answer her question, all the while mentally scolding herself for her ridiculous thoughts.

“My son got in an accident when he was two years old. He can’t do things like other children can, and because of this he needs extra care.” Draco pushed the strands of blond that were getting in his eyes out of the way and gave her a blunt look. “I’m a very busy man, Miss Weasley, and will not always be here to look after my son now that I am supposed to take care of my family’s business here in England as well as my own business in France. I don’t believe in house elves being good companions for children, and that is why I wanted a nanny- someone who will be here all the time for him.”

“And you think I couldn’t do that? Or am I just not good enough for your son because I’m a Weasley?” Ginny retorted somewhat tartly. She never meant to get rude to him, but the way he was standing there so sure of himself just grated on her nerves. She knew she could take care of this boy if he would just give her the chance, but actually getting that chance was like a leap over a giant chasm- unreachable and virtually impossible.

“Your family has nothing to do with this.” Draco replied smoothly, not a trace of sarcasm in his voice or expression. “I just don’t think you’re the right person to look after my son.”

“Why?” she couldn’t help but ask, genuinely curious as to why he was so against her looking after his son. She thought she’d make a good nanny personally, but maybe she was just biased.

He surveyed her again in that critical way and walked lazily towards her, his eyes moving from her feet up to her face, until his eyes were locked on hers. Ginny could feel her face heating but she continued to look at him almost defiantly- daring him to tell her what was so wrong with her.

“Tell me Miss Weasley, do you often get asked on dates?”

Ginny blinked and felt her face heat even more. Whatever she had been expecting him to say that was not one of them. “I don’t see what that has to do with anything-”

“-It has everything to do with it.” He gazed almost mockingly down at her, his lips curling into that odd, little smirkish smile. “You are used to being able to do what you want when you want- I can just tell. If I were to hire you as my son’s nanny, you would not be able to live such a life. No more dates, no more men, no more friends. You would be spending all your time with an eight-year-old boy. Can you honestly tell me that is what you want?”

She couldn’t deny that it didn’t sound very exciting, but she also didn’t want to admit he was right. That would be to give in, and Ginny never gave in. She was a woman that lived her life for pleasure- doing whatever took her fancy when she felt like it, just as Draco had said. Having her company restricted to looking after a young child would not exactly be the ideal occupation, but she also knew this was the best offer she would ever get. She had to take it.

“Is that your only reason against me? That you think I wouldn’t be able to handle giving up my social life?”

He gave her a brief appraising stare and then nodded his head. “Apart from your age I think you would be a good enough nanny for him. You obviously have plenty of experience with children, and I know enough about you to know that you would not be so prejudiced to do anything to him simply because he is my son.”

Ginny didn’t know why but she suddenly felt very proud of herself at his words, as well as much more charitable towards her host. As small a compliment as it was, it was still something coming from him.

“If you are truly serious about this and don’t mind having to live here with my son and I, then of course I will give you the job.”

“I am serious about this,” Ginny assured him, clutching her hands together earnestly. “I really want this job, and I promise that I will do my best to take care of your son.”

Draco’s expression was once more unreadable, but he nodded his head all the same. “Very well, read through these papers and sign your name here. I’ll go get my son so you can meet him.”

Ginny took the papers with a mumbled word of thanks and sat down at the table where she started to scan what she labelled ‘the technical stuff’. She found herself getting bored of the fusty writing and was soon barely thinking about what she was reading at all, though her eyes still continued to roam the words.

She gazed up at the portrait above her and noticed the woman was smiling approvingly at her. Finding that just a little but odd, Ginny was about to try speaking to the woman again when Draco returned leading a small blond haired boy by the hand. Ginny quickly stood up and stared at the boy, realising instantly there was no mistaking this was Draco’s son.

The boy’s hair was pale blond, just like his fathers, and his soft boyish face showed signs of the Malfoy pointy features. Unlike his father though, his skin was more olive rather than pale, and his eyes were a vivid blue rather than grey. He smiled sweetly at Ginny and she couldn’t help but smile back. The boy was adorable.

“Is this my nanny, father?” The boy asked in a shy voice, tugging on his father’s hand.

“Yes, this is Ginevra Weasley. She’ll be taking care of you from now on.”

“Please, call me Ginny,” Ginny said quickly, and took a few steps forward, kneeling down so she was eye level with the small boy. “And what’s your name, my young man?”

“Damien.”

“What a lovely name.” She smiled brightly at the small boy, but he only continued to stare rather blankly ahead. Hesitantly he reached out and touched her face with his soft little hands, feeling her face with careful precision, almost as if he were trying to memorise it with his fingertips.

A smile passed across his boyish face, his eyes gazing at her with a sort of glassy quality. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered softly. “Just like I thought you would be.”

She frowned and looked at the boy with dawning realisation. There was only one reason why Damien would touch her face in such a way- only one reason why his blue eyes would hold that certain glassy expression…

“You’re blind, aren’t you?”

Damien’s smile faltered and he looked down at his feet, shuffling uncomfortably in his awkwardness.

Draco gently pulled his son away from Ginny and looked down at her with an alarmingly grim expression. His mouth was set in a firm line, and his eyes seemed to be filled a sorrow so deep that it pained her just to look at him. Now she understood what he had meant by Damien being unable to do things as other children could, and why he would need extra care.

“Yes, he is blind. The accident-” he broke off and swallowed hard, his eyes closing in sudden pain. Ginny watched as he took a small breath before opening his eyes again, looking suddenly much more care-worn than he had before. “The accident took away his sight, but he is able to feel certain things, which makes up for his being unable to see.”

“What do you mean?” Ginny asked curiously. She wondered how anyone blind could see.

“I can feel people’s auras.” Damien explained in a small voice. He looked at her shyly and fidgeted with his hands. “It sort of helps me know where you are. Like yours- your aura is warm; it’s almost like the same feeling I get when I lie on the grass outside on a sunny day. I knew as soon as I entered the room where you were because I could feel it.”

Ginny couldn’t help but smile at his innocent admission. “And it works this way for everyone?”

He nodded his head. “Anyone. Father says it’s my in- ina-”

“Innate?” Ginny provided with an amused glint in her eyes.

“Yeah that’s the one- innate magic.”

“Are you still up for this, Weasley?” Draco asked softly.

Ginny looked at Damien’s shy smiling face and then gazed back at Draco. She knew this wasn’t going to be easy- after all, she’d never had to look after a blind person before- but she also knew that she wanted to help this young boy. He seemed a sweet child, and he was probably lonely having only his father and the house elf to keep him company.

Slowly she nodded her head. “Yes. I’ll take the job.”