Living in Malfoy Manor was not what Ginny had expected it to be.
When she was younger and at Hogwarts, she and Ron used to brainstorm on what Malfoy Manor looked like to them. After meeting Draco and finding him to be nothing but a spoiled brat, and then later finding out his horrible father gave her Tom Riddle's diary, the only thing Ginny could think of when it came to the place those two lived at was dark. Dark hallways with statues of gargoyles staring at you while you walked by; your footsteps echoing and your heart beating so loudly, you could hear it. They imagined cobwebs--not for the sake of the place being unclean, but to add a dramatic effect. Horrible creatures would live in rooms throughout the house, and if you didn't know where you were going, a move to open up a random door could be your last.
Sunlight wasn't allowed in the manor and was hidden by deep black drapes. There were rules on how to conduct yourself: no talking, no eye contact, and above all, no happiness. Ron also added that the whole family wore nothing but black and never went out during the day, but Ginny would have to comment that as horrible as the Malfoys were, they weren't vampires, though the pale skin did make her wonder.
When she had first entered Malfoy Manor, clutched between Crabbe and Goyle, she was too shocked to find Draco Malfoy alive to take in her surroundings. For example, why was there was a fountain but it didn't pour blood? (Ron's idea). And if she took a look around her--when she wasn't too preoccupied with finding out she was to live at Malfoy Manor, that is--she would have found that the room was well lit, giving off a cozy feeling, and smelling faintly of cinnamon.
And after two weeks of living there, she had yet to come across a room that agreed with her and Ron's theories of how Malfoy Manor looked. Her own room, for example, reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, something she thought would have been forbidden in the manor. The drawing room, where she spent time playing a white piano, had walls of baby blue and a large bay window where sunlight poured in. At nights, since she was forbidden to go outside on her own, she would lie on the floor of the ball room and stare up at the stars in the ceiling, picking out her favorite constellations. Flipsy pointed out to her that the Draco constellation was the brightest amongst them all, something Narcissa did herself.
The colorful rooms made her stay easier that she would have expected. When she would sit by the fire with a book in her lap, she was often reminded of nights in the Burrow with her family gathered by the fireplace and spending time together. Ginny soon discovered why Malfoy Manor smelt of cinnamon--every morning Flipsy baked cinnamon bread, a favorite of Draco's, and a spice that was a favorite of Mrs. Weasley. Draco also had a vast collection of Quidditch gear, from the latest broomstick to the finest gloves, something that not only made her jealous, but would have made all of her brothers, maybe even Percy, speechless.
She had been spending a lot of her time in the hidden garden--not because she knew Draco wanted her out of the library, but because it reminded her of the garden in the backyard of the Burrow. She would sit herself beside the willow tree, remembering how when they were young, she and her brothers would swing from the branches of an old willow. Though the sunlight was fake in the room, being in it made her feel like she was outside, something that put a faint smile on her face.
Something that had also made her time easier at the manor was the absence of Draco. Since their time in Knockturn Alley, she had plenty of time to think in privacy about what had happened between the two of them. One thing she had noticed after he controlled himself in the alley was that instead of starting another endless fight with her he was no where to be seen. After they returned from Knockturn Alley, he muttered something about her having permission to be alone, and then took off upstairs. Over the next week, she had seen no sign of him, not even at dinner thought she still attended meals in the dining room. She had asked Flipsy if he had gone back to work, though he said he took off time, but the house-elf would neither answer nor acknowledge that she was asking that question. She had decided that he must have been in his study, and had wanted to take the secret passageway to his study--something she had not returned to yet--but knew better then to use it if Draco was home indeed.
She didn't know why she was so keen on knowing if he was home or not--curiosity was the only answer she could come up with, and that she would be able to breathe easier if she knew she had the manor to herself. It was beginning to take a toll on her during meal time--she would always feel an anxious tug in her stomach when she would approach the dining room, expecting to see Draco, but it was always empty.
The time apart from him did leave her thinking of their past week together. Just two weeks of wearing rich clothing and eating filling food made her want to be thankful of her new life, but the timing and place was all wrong. Yes, as stubborn as she was, she was able to recognize that this life was better than the one she lived the past month, and she could have been worse off, or possibly dead. But she couldn't allow herself to take enjoyment in it without feeling tremendous guilt. How could she enjoy her life when all of the people she loved were dead, and she was only able to live this life because of someone who took part in killing them? Every time she woke up in her comfortable bed feeling well rested and with a smile on her face, it was the thought that knowing those she loved were asleep forever and would never wake up like she did that sent her back to feeling miserable.
It had, after all, been only a bit over a month since her family had passed. Only one month since they left her and she was captured. And when she felt she couldn't possibly live any longer, more were taken from her. Though the war had been going on for several months and people she had known had died since the beginning it, she didn't truly discover what death was until the past month. How was she supposed to cope with it when she was placed in the house of the enemy, of someone who gloated over such things?
But time apart from the enemy made her focus more on him. Draco was, after all, still the enemy, but a confusing one. She noticed he showed his true colors when she stood up to him, when he had been drinking, or when she'd mentioned Harry's name--something that was obvious to her, yet she couldn't help it. One part of her couldn't let go of Harry yet, even for the sake of a calm Draco, and the other part enjoyed egging him on, torturing him with the memory of the one person he hated most. She would have thought that with Harry's death Draco would have merely laughed at his name, but to still show anger and spite…that was something she couldn't figure out.
But it was when Draco was almost pleasant that truly confused her. Like when he healed her hand, or showed her the garden. Though she suspected him of doing so to keep her away from the library, he could have just banned her from there instead of showing her a place that put her at ease with its beauty. Or in Knockturn Alley, when he saved her from the old wizard who tried to capture her. She still remembered his arm around her, protecting her, cursing the old man for taking what he claimed was his.
Protecting his prize.
His prize for doing what--the thought had slipped her mind. She had thought it was for finding Harry, but she knew the chance of that to be impossible. When the war had taken a turn for the worse, Ginny herself had encouraged Harry to go into hiding to gather his strength for the final battle. What good would it be if their hero was killed before then? It was shortly before her family's death, and after she learned of Harry's death while in her cell; she had suspected Harry of coming out of hiding to avenge the Weasley's death and of failing.
But for Draco to actually find Harry? Impossible. Only she, Hermione, and the Weasley's knew of where he was, and none of them could even be tortured into giving out the location.
Another memory that kept her on edge was that of Draco telling her why in fact she was his prize. Not for why he won her, but what he was to do with her. That he was to give her a constant reminder of what pain and misery was; that she hadn't felt it enough and it was his job to show her. Except, two weeks there, and the worst she had gone through were fights with him that ended with threats and broken glasses. But she was never harmed.
What Draco Malfoy was planning to do with her, she had no idea, and the realization of that terrified her the most.
She found Flipsy one morning in the kitchen, rummaging through a cabinet with speed. The house-elf kept on muttering, "Oh dear, oh dear," while she picked up bottles, read the labels, and put them back.
"What's wrong, Flipsy?" Ginny asked, taking a seat at an island in the middle of the room.
"Oh, dear," Flipsy continued. "Oh dear, Miss, Flipsy is in trouble. Flipsy can not find the right potion and if she can't…" The house-elf shuddered.
Ginny frowned. One thing she and her brother were correct about was Draco's treatment towards his house-elves. "I thought I ordered you not to hurt yourself anymore."
"It's not me Flipsy is worried about, Miss," Flipsy said, turning around to face her. "If Flipsy can not find the right potion, Master Malfoy will not be feeling better and then what would Flipsy do?"
Ginny straightened up. "Malfoy's sick?"
Flipsy nodded, tears gathering in her eyes. "Master has taken to being in bed for the past few days and is not feeling better. Flipsy has been delivering him his meals but he eats little and doesn't have the strength to get out of bed."
That explained why she hadn't seen him, not even at meals. "What is he sick with?" And why, then, was she feeling fine? Surely if something was going around, she would be feeling partially ill.
Flipsy shook her head. "Master says he got it from work, says the prisoners are dying from it, Miss."
Ginny stood up in shock. The prisoners were dying from it? But, she was a prisoner herself only two weeks ago…
Ginny grabbed onto the island, feeling faint. "Bring me to him, Flipsy."
Flipsy's eyes widened. "But Master said you're not allowed in his room-"
"Do you want him to get better or not?" she asked patiently, though her heart was racing. Days--it had been a matter of days that she was at the prison, living in her cell with little clothing and food. Days from when she was shipped off to Malfoy Manor to live in comfort while those she lived around were dying from some kind of disease. And now the one who saved her from it had it too.
Flipsy was silent for a moment before she ran over to Ginny and grabbed the bottom of her robe. "This way, Miss," she said, leading her out of the room and up the stairs. They turned into the corridor where Ginny lived, and approaching her room Ginny went to pass it when Flipsy stopped. "He's here, Miss."
Ginny looked at the door right across from her own. "Malfoy's room has been across mine this whole time?" she asked with surprise. She had been so busy with exploring the manor of the bottom floor that she hadn't even thought to check the rooms around her own bedroom.
Flipsy nodded before opening the door. She pressed a finger to her lips before she quietly stepped into the room. Once entering, Ginny shut the door, and found herself in a room with all of its shades drawn. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the darkness.
"Miss," Flipsy whispered, her voice ahead of her.
Ginny edged forward, her eyes getting used to the surroundings with every step she took. Soon, she found Flipsy standing next to a large bed with its curtains drawn around it. Flipsy lit a candle on a bed stand and then drew the curtain to the side and tied it down, showing Ginny a glimpse of Draco sleeping.
His face was paler than usual, with sweat drops across his forehead, plastering his fine light hair to it. His eyes seemed shrunken; his cheekbones pointier. His pajamas were stuck to his body in wetness, and it looked like he had kicked off his sheets. Ginny, very slowly, reached out her hand and pressed it to his forehead, finding it hot. Draco let out a small groan at her touch and turned his head towards her.
Ginny frowned. "Can you get something for his fever, Flipsy?"
"That's what Flipsy was looking for, Miss. Flipsy will go look harder," she said before she ran out of the room.
Ginny grabbed the candle and used it to edge herself around the bed and across the room, finding the bathroom and taking a wash cloth and wetting it with cold water. Coming back to Draco's bed, she couldn't help but laugh at herself--if only her brothers knew what she was doing.
She brushed Draco's hair back with her fingers and pressed the wash cloth against his forehead. His body seemed to relax under it. Sighing with content, Ginny took a look at his wet shirt and frowned. Now that wouldn't do.
After opening a door next to the bathroom, she found his wardrobe and grabbed another silk pajama shirt. Holding it in her hands, she sat in a chair next to Draco's bed, waiting for Flipsy to come back so she could change him.
Ginny fidgeted with the shirt as she waited for Flipsy, but she didn't show up. Ginny leaned back in the chair, keeping an eye on Draco through the opening of the curtains. He was fidgeting again, his hands moving to his shirt in his sleep.
Ginny shook her head. There was no way she was going to change him. It was enough that she came to look at him, and even more so that she put a damp wash cloth on his forehead, but to see him shirtless? That was pushing it. The only time she had seen a man shirtless was her brothers when they went swimming in the pond by their house, and she doubted that counted.
"Come on, Flipsy," Ginny muttered. Draco moved again in his sleep, this time the wash cloth fell off.
"Oh, bugger," Ginny said as she got up, tempted to throw the shirt in spite of everything. "You owe me big time, Malfoy." Though, she felt knowing he was the one suffering and she wasn't, he may not owe her anything.
She went to work on the buttons, sliding each one through before she opened the shirt to show his chest. Her face grew hot. What if he woke up right now and found her undressing him? How would he react then, besides maybe throw a glass or two at her? Staring at the blankets instead of him, Ginny lifted Draco up so she could take the shirt off. "You know," she grunted under his weight, "this would be a lot easier if you gave me a wand."
Tossing the wet shirt to the side, Ginny went to put on the fresh one when she froze, staring at his left arm. The Dark Mark gleamed at her, taunting her with its black ink and hateful stare. Ginny's hands shook. It was that same mark she found over her family's home, not expecting what she was going to find inside. It was people like him that killed her family. Maybe it was him.
She almost ran, wanting Flipsy to finish what she started, but she bit her lip and tore her eyes away from the mark. Once she put the shirt on, she pulled up the covers and rewet the wash cloth. By the time she sat back down in the chair, Flipsy came running in with a bottle in hand.
"Flipsy found it, Miss!" she exclaimed, handing her the bottle. "And Flipsy has also called the doctor. He'll be over shortly."
Ginny thanked the house-elf and asked her to watch for the doctor. Once Flipsy left, Ginny went back to Draco's bedside and lifted him up on his pillows to give him the potion.
Once it went down and his face was cooler, Ginny found herself standing there, staring at him. He looked younger when he slept. He was, after all, only twenty-one, but the war didn't know age. It made people grow up faster then they were ready for. Here Draco was, twenty-one, a Death Eater, and the last Malfoy alive, owning the huge manor and whatever else his parents left him. He lived a life beyond his years, and already dealing with his personality, he knew it too.
Ginny wrapped her arms around herself. And it was to him she should be grateful to for getting her out of the prison when he did. Here, with a doctor at hand and potions, she knew he would survive. But her--no, if he did not bring her to the manor, she would have died with the rest of the prisoners.
There was a knock at the door and the doctor entered. Once she knew Draco was in good hands, Ginny left the two together and retreated downstairs for a much needed cup of tea.
~*~
The doctor left when Ginny was in the middle of her tea, telling her that Draco would be just fine as long as he took a potion every four hours. "Nasty virus going around," he said as he gave her a slip of instructions on how to make the potion. "I'm quite surprised you're healthy, though. It's very contagious, but only in the beginning stages. Good thing your husband had the sense to not get you sick as well."
He left her stuttering in response with a red face. When Flipsy came in to collect her tea cup, Ginny handed her the potion slip. "Just make sure to give it to him every four hours," she said standing up.
Flipsy's face fell. "But, Miss," she said, "House-elves are forbidden to make potions here. Flipsy's great grandmother was once ordered by the miss of the house to add poison to a Pepper-Up potion. Master survived, but oh, great grandmother did not."
Ginny sighed. If it wasn't enough that she had helped Draco change shirts earlier, now she was responsible for his health completely. But what if she refused to make it? Who would stop her--Flipsy? Draco himself was too sick to have any control in the matter.
After all the times of Draco stating that her life was in his hands, it was now the other way around. And she had the power to do with it as she pleased.
Flipsy led her to a room behind the kitchen with a cauldron and cabinet of ingredients. Ginny gathered what she needed and when she was about to close the door, her eyes fell on a particular ingredient that, from what Professor Snape had taught her in Potions class, would prove to be deadly if too much of it was added.
She grasped the container and looked over at the cauldron. Draco Malfoy's life was in her hands, and she had the chance to change it all.
~*~
Ginny balanced a tray in her hands as she pressed her back against the bedroom door, opening it up more. Flipsy had given her the tray of food, asking her if she could please give it to Draco since she was on her way up to give him the potion. Ginny had almost dropped it twice out of nerves on her way up the stairs. Her hands shook the whole time she made the potion, and for her eyeing the deadly ingredient on the table between every step, it took her longer than she thought to make the potion.
She had killed a person before. It was during the only fight she had contributed to--the one where she saw Draco Malfoy die, though only now did she know it was Blaise Zabini. She wasn't supposed to be there. Her family, and the Order of the Phoneix, had made it clear that a young woman of twenty wasn't allowed to fight, that her skills in healing were more valuable to them than her knowledge of curses. Though, as she pointed out many times in anger, Hermione was much better at healing and was only a year older, she was allowed to be on the side of Ron and Harry in fights.
After she got the chance, she had stopped complaining about such a thing.
The day leading up to the fight was a blur. She and Harry had gone to Muggle London to do some shopping. They thought it would be safe--up to that point, all the fighting in the war had been kept in the wizard world. It's not to say that Voldemort hadn't tried to include the Muggles to heighten up their death toll, but the Order had managed thus far to keep them out of it.
She and Harry were window shopping, strolling down the street while holding hands. They had stopped in front of a jewelry store for Ginny to look at a silver heart shaped locket--her mother had one just like it, and she was marveling at the similarities. She was busy staring at it, taking it in, when something caught her eye in the reflection of the window. Her breath caught in her throat; she squeezed Harry's hand until he looked up as well.
There, standing behind them, was Draco Malfoy.
Harry whirled around with his wand in his hand and shoved Ginny between his back and the window. Ginny remembered her heart racing at the sight of the blonde hair man. After his murder of Remus Lupin, the Order had been frantic to catch Draco Malfoy, dead or alive. And here he was, in Muggle London, with two other Death Eaters behind him.
"Potter, Potter, Potter," he said with a smirk. "There's a war going on and you still have time to shop?" He cocked his head to the side and looked at Ginny. "And with your girlfriend too. Isn't that sweet?"
"You leave Ginny out of this," Harry spat, gritting his teeth. "This is just between you and me, Malfoy. I know we've both been waiting for this opportunity for a long time."
And he smiled, or Ginny thought that would be how a smile looked on Draco Malfoy's face. "You have no idea, Potter," he said before pointing his wand and yelling a curse.
Harry grabbed Ginny and pushed them to the ground. The curse went over them and hit the window from behind, shattering it and pouring glass onto her. She remembered screaming--she didn't know if it was coming out of her mouth or from the people around her. Harry had yelled at her to stay there before he got up on his feet and fired back at the Slytherin.
Ginny did just the opposite of what Harry asked. She jumped to her feet and drew out her wand just in time to find a Death Eater approaching her. "Stupefy!" she yelled, pointing her wand at him.
He blocked it with ease and let out a loud laugh. "Come on little girl," he said, showing her yellow teeth. "You better put up more of a fight. You don't know what guys like me do to pretty little things like you."
Ginny clutched her wand as her stomach flipped. She took a step back, her feet crunching the glass on the ground. She was waiting for the man to fire a curse at her, but he was merely laughing at her, playing with her. "Petrificus Totalus!" she yelled.
The Death Eater's laughter rang in her ears as he blocked it again. "Aren't you even going to try to kill me?"
Bile formed in her mouth. She had cursed people before, had hurt them, but had never killed a man. And after people started dropping like flies around her, she refused to partake in such an act. She took another step back as the man approached her, slipping on a piece of glass and falling backwards on the ground.
The man stood over her, laughing at her. Ginny looked over to Harry for help, but he was busy with Draco Malfoy. The other Death Eater lay motionless next to him.
"Come on," the man said with a snarl, putting his hands up in the air. "One free shot for the pretty lady."
She couldn't do it. Ginny pointed her wand at him with a shaking hand. She was just supposed to be shopping with Harry. It was their first date in Merlin knows how long. How could she finish it with using a Killing Curse?
She looked overhead the man and saw a flowering pot on the edge of a patio two stories above the jewelry shop. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The man looked up just as the pot was lifted off the patio and dropped three stories down, smashing onto his head with a sickening crunch. Ginny watched with wide eyes as he crumbled over and lay on the sidewalk, motionless, blood pouring from his head.
She stared at him, for how long she didn't know, before she pushed herself from off the ground, her fingers digging into the glass and making her bleed. She took small steps, approaching the body, waiting for him to stir and sit back up and attack her. But he didn't move.
She heard Harry yelling curses, but couldn't look away from the still form. She kicked the side of the body with her foot, but he didn't move. Her eyes followed a trail of blood flowing from his head down to the drain in the street, collecting with the shards of glass on the ground.
She had killed him. After everything she tried to do to prevent such an act, she had killed him after all. Her stomach flipped dangerously and her body felt light. She looked up just in time to see Draco Malfoy fall to the ground, just as this man did, and the sight of it made everything go black.
And here she was, in the room of a man she saw die once, where she had killed once. And both things were going to happen again.
Ginny saw Draco stir in his bed--all the curtains were tied up. She stepped into his room and closed the door behind her, shutting out the light despite the candle on the bed stand.
"Who's there?" he muttered, his voice rough.
Ginny kept quiet as she placed the tray on a desk next to the draped window. Her back was to him as she took the potion off the tray of food. "It's me," she whispered.
She heard him shuffle in the bed. "Weasley?" he asked. "What are you doing in here?"
Ginny paused. Talking to a man she was about to kill was much harder than she thought it would be. "I'm here to give you your potion," she said. "Flipsy said I had to do it." She reached into her pocket with a trembling hand and grabbed the secret ingredient, staring at it in the dim light. She hadn't added it to the potion yet. She couldn't bring herself to do it right away--something was keeping her from doing it right away. She needed to know something first.
She slowly unscrewed the lid of the ingredient. "I have a question, Malfoy," she said in a quiet voice. She grabbed the potion. "Was the reason why you stayed away from me this past week was to not get me sick?"
Silence answered her--there wasn't even a noise of him moving in his sheets. For a moment she had thought he went back to sleep. In one hand she gripped the potion; in the other, the ingredient, waiting for his words before she combined the two.
"Yes," he said, his voice a faint of a whisper.
Ginny let out a breath she was holding and dropped the ingredient, pushing it far away from the potion with a shaking hand. How? How could she kill a man who continued to do things that ended with her being safe?
Ginny turned away from the desk and approached the bed. "Here," she said, lifting him up against his pillows so he was sitting. "Drink this--it will make you feel better."
Draco took the potion without looking her in the eyes. He sniffed it. "You didn't poison it, did you?"
She gave out a shaky laughter. "Not this time, Malfoy." She watched as he took it, gulping it down, grimacing at the taste. His complexion slowly turned back to normal before her eyes. "Did it work?"
Draco sighed as he closed his eyes. "If you mean am I going to live, then yes." He opened an eye to look at her. "I guess I should thank you."
No, she thought as she gave him his tray of food. She should be the one thanking him.
~*~
She was running through the forest, her robe ripping on tree branches. It was night and the air was crisp; an owl hooted from a tree above. Ginny felt the need to rush to her destination--she was going to be late. Someone was going to notice she wasn't there. Worry filled her body, distracting her and causing her to trip over a rock, sending her flying to the ground.
Ginny groaned as she picked herself up, dusting off the dirt and grass stains on her robe, and noticed a rip in her clothes. Swearing, she sat on a boulder and pulled out her wand, hoping to mend the tear. Her wand hand paused in the middle of fixing the tear--something caught her eye. She glanced down at the boulder she sat on at childish handwriting scribbled on top of the gray stone. It said, "Ron and Ginny were here."
Ginny's heart quickened and looked around her. She was in the woods behind the Burrow. She was home. She stood up and shoved her wand in her pocket, no longer caring about the rip, and took off for the straight path to her house. Her heart thumped alongside with her footsteps over the tall grass--her family, how she missed them. Thoughts were running in her head--she could finally see them again. She would find her mother cooking in the kitchen and her father reading the Daily Prophet. Fred and George would be pulling some prank on Percy, and Charlie and Bill would be playing a game of chess. Ron would be writing a letter to Hermione, something that had become a hobby of his. A smile widened on her face and she let out a laugh of joy.
She was finally home.
She ran up a hill, the last thing that stood in the way of her home, when she saw something green in the sky above where her house was positioned. Her footsteps halted and she almost fell backwards in shock. It was the Dark Mark.
It took her a moment to move her stiff legs. "Mum!" she yelled as she ran up the rest of the hill, almost tripping on her robe. "Dad!" She reached the top of the hill and stopped to let out a scream. The roof of the Burrow was on fire.
She ran down the hill in a split second, her wand out and ready. She crossed the yard, the chickens frantic and running everywhere, and tripped on a rusty cauldron. She picked herself up and barged through the door, screaming her family's names.
There was no response. Ginny coughed through the air; smoke covered the kitchen. "Mum!" she choked as she blindly walked through the room, knocking in to the table. "Ron! Anyone!"
She took out her wand and sent a gust of wind out of it, pushing away the smoke in front of her and creating a clear path. Being able to breathe better, she took her hand away from her mouth and went to the living room, where she let out an ear splitting scream.
Her family, all eight of them, were sprawled out on the floor, not moving. Ginny dropped her wand in shock and ran over to Molly, the closest one to her.
"Mum!" she yelled, dropping to her knees and shaking her mother's shoulders. "Mum, wake up!" But her mother laid there, her eyes open and unmoving.
Tears fell down Ginny's cheeks as she let go of her mother and crawled over to Ron, who was in between her mother and Bill. "Ron!" she now sobbed, unable to control her cries. "Ron, this isn't funny!" She clutched onto his shirt and shook him, making his head roll over to the side. "Get up, dammit! I'm sorry that I left earlier; I know you didn't want me to leave. I'm sorry so stop messing around!"
A crack sounded from the floor above; the room grew hotter and more smoke piled through. Ginny let out a cough, searching for her wand to clear away the smoke. Crawling over her brother and mother's dead bodies, sobbing, she found it and cast another gust of wind in the room.
Fire collected on the stairs at the end of the room, closest to where her father lay. She crawled over her other brothers' bodies, trying to reach her dad. "Daddy," she murmured, "get out of here--there's a fire."
She felt drained by the time she reached her father's body, so tired that she rested her head on her father's shirt. "Wake up," she whispered, coughing on the smoky air.
She closed her eyes, her last ounce of strength leaving her, though even if she could stand, she no longer wanted to leave. She didn't want to leave her family--she had to stay with her family.
She felt a pair of hands pick her up off her dead father. "No," Ginny groaned. "Leave me." But the person cradled Ginny into them and led her out of the house of fire, out of the smoke and into fresh air. Ginny took a deep breath and let out a hoarse cough--she could finally breathe again. Her eyes blinked, and she opened her eyes to see who had saved her.
A pair of red eyes stared right back at her.
Ginny awoke in her bed screaming until her throat turned raw. Sweat covered her body--her hair was wet from it. She kicked at her blankets and turned her body to get out of her bed; her legs got caught in the sheets and sent her tumbling over the side of the bed.
"Let me go!" she sobbed, trying to free herself from the tangled mess. She clutched her eyes shut. She didn't want to see the red eyes again. They were just as Harry described. They pierced through you and turned you cold, leaving you feeling weak and helpless. They only brought death, and made you want to die yourself because it would be an easier way out. Because if you saw those red eyes, death would be coming shortly anyways.
She heard her door burst open. "Weasley?" Hands touched her shoulders, making her scream and hide her head under her arms.
"Don't touch me!" she cried, tears pouring down her cheeks. "You already took my family--you can't have me!"
The hands shook her. "Weasley, it's me! Draco!"
Ginny took a gasping breath at the name. Draco…a Death Eater. Draco…the man who won her as a prize. Draco…the one who saved her from death.
She opened her eyes and slowly looked up. His gray eyes--not red ones--were wide and looking down at her. "What happened?"
Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but found she couldn't. She shook her head instead, and held herself. She was trembling.
Draco frowned at her before he bent down and scooped his arms under her, lifting her up. "This is the second time I'm putting you to bed, you know," he said as he set her on her bed and picked up her blanket off the ground. "You better not make this a habit."
Ginny stared at him. She saw him talking, but couldn't make sense of the words. Her body felt numb, but she had at least stopped crying.
Draco ran a hand through his hair as he continued to stare at her. He snapped his fingers and Flipsy appeared. "Get her a dreamless potion," he said, still staring at Ginny.
"No!" Ginny yelled before Flipsy could leave. Her eyes were wide. "No, I don't want to go back to sleep."
"It will be dreamless-"
She shook her head. "Please don't make me," she whispered. "Just not yet."
Draco sighed before he looked down at Flipsy. "You heard her," he said. "Bring it in an hour." When Flipsy disappeared Draco turned to leave as well. He was halfway across the room before Ginny jumped out of her bed and ran after him.
"Don't leave me!" she said, grabbing onto his arm and stopping him. She stared at her hand--she had grabbed his left forearm, where the Dark Mark was. She let go and closed her eyes. That mark--that mark was above her home.
"I-I'm sorry," she said. Her eyes were still closed, but she knew Draco was staring at her. "I just can't be alone right now.
The silence from him made her grimace. What was she doing telling a Malfoy such a thing? Wasn't it bad enough letting him see how vulnerable she was at the moment? And then she had to go and run after him, hold onto him like he was some answer to her problems, like he could actually help her.
"Come on," he said, grabbing onto her wrist and pulling her out the bedroom.
He let go of her once she opened her eyes. They walked down the hallway together, Ginny with her arms wrapped around her, and Draco with his hands shoved into his pajama pockets. Ginny looked at him out of the corner of her eye, just now realizing he didn't have a shirt on. She averted her eyes to her feet, her face growing red. She told herself it wasn't anything she hadn't seen before. She did change him after all…only then he wasn't moving so she couldn't see just how his muscles seemed to move as he walked, and how he'd grown rather broader since his skinny days at Hogwarts. She snuck another look when he descended the stairs first. The war had left Harry thin--much thinner than Mrs. Weasley was happy about. He was always too busy to eat a proper meal; too anxious to crave food. But Draco…it had seemed that the criteria of being a Death Eater was to be in shape.
She followed him down the hallway, walking at his side. This way she had less of a view of him--when she was trailing behind, her eyes only had his naked back to stare at. Ginny glanced down at herself. She had forgotten her robe, and was left in a long t-shirt that reached her knees, just like the ones she wore at Hogwarts for bed.
Draco had led them into the room with the bar. Ginny paused when she saw him reach for the brandy. "I don't want to play drinking games again, Malfoy."
He took out one glass and poured a small amount in. "It's just for you," he said. "It will help you…calm down a bit."
Ginny wanted to refuse, but she remembered times when her father would add a shot of Firewhiskey to her mother's tea when she was worrying everyone and the war. She walked up to him and took the glass. "Thanks," she murmured, taking a sip and sitting down in an armchair.
Draco walked over to the dead fireplace and bent down, taking some logs from the side. "Malfoy doing labor work?" Ginny asked, this time a faint smile on her face.
"I'm not completely incompetent." He kept his back to her but she knew he was glaring. A moment later a fire started and he took a seat across from her. "Now tell me," he said, settling into his chair, "what happened?"
Ginny turned her head away. "I just had a dream, all right?"
"And dreams make you scream like a banshee?"
She looked back at him. He wasn't smirking, like she thought he was. "Mine do," she whispered. She paused and took another sip. "I saw them again."
"Who?"
Ginny clutched her drink. She wanted to cry all over again. "My family," she whispered. "I keep on seeing them…I keep on seeing their dead bodies all huddled up…the house on fire…their-their dead faces staring up at me…"
Draco didn't say anything, but she wasn't expecting him to. What could he say to her in comfort when he hated her family? Ginny finished her drink and set it on the table. "But that isn't what made me scream." She looked up into Draco's eyes. "It was those…those red eyes."
Draco stiffened, and she knew he felt the same fear when he looked into them. "The Dark Lord," he said.
Ginny nodded. "It was he who found me at the Burrow. He-he murdered my family."
"And you were supposed to be murdered as well," said Draco. He scrunched his eyebrows. "Where were you that night?"
"I-". Where did she go? The whole night leading up to what was waiting for her was a blur. How could she remember such little details when she was faced with death? "I had to go to Diagon Alley. I remember it being last minute. Ron didn't want me to leave--he was worried there would be an attack there."
They sat and listened to the fire crackle. Ginny's heart rate had slowed down by now--she was able to be still and breathe once again.
"What happened to your family," said Draco, staring at his hands, "what happened was-"
"Don't," said Ginny. "Don't try to say it was horrible, because I know you don't think that." But her heart felt lighter for the effort.
Draco frowned. "I may have hated them," he said, "but I still think it's low to attack a whole family during dinner. I hated them, but even I didn't see that coming." He stood up before Ginny could respond. "You finished your drink--are you ready for bed?"
Ginny nodded before she stood up and followed him out of the room. They were quiet until they were on the stairs. "Are you feeling better?" asked Ginny. "Should you even be out of bed?"
"Two days of that disgusting potion is enough for me," he said. Ginny eyed him--he did seem to be back in good health. "Plus, as much as I did love you being my nurse, if we don't go back to normal hell may just freeze over."
He was right. Since he had been sick, they hadn't had a proper fight in days. Every time she went to give him his potion, they exchanged few words, but all of them were pleasant. She bit her lip from laughing.
"Watch yourself there, Weasley," said Draco as he stopped in front of their rooms. "You might actually let yourself be happy if you're not careful enough."
Ginny stiffened. "I don't know what-"
"Live, Weasley," he said, his gray eyes gleaming. "You've been given a second chance at life. If you can't live it for yourself, live it for those who can't." He turned his door knob and glanced at her before entering his room. "Good night."
Ginny stared at his door long after he closed it, running his words through her head. Live. Did she remember how? But to live for another…she thought of her family. That, she thought as she walked across the hall to her room, that might not be so hard after all.
~*~
Sorry for the slow update! But, chapter four is already written, and I've made a good dent in chapter five. Expect some D/G goodness in both. Thanks for reading and please review--it is my birthday today, after all!!
Liz21
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