Blue-Eyed Angel
Chapter Sixteen
Draco sat in his living room that night with Clarissa and Michelangelo when the telephone rang and distracted him from his reading.
"Claire, turn down the telly," he said over his shoulder, her complying with a nod and quick action. She was on the couch, Draco on the floor in front of her. She used the zapper to turn the movie volume down so that Draco could reach over and grab the phone from its cradle on the floor. His hair was…styled…thanks to Clarissa, and she went back to her craft as soon as Draco was sitting upright again and had the receiver to his ear.
"Malfoy," he said simply.
"You did not tell me you have a telephone." It was Reamann. Draco sighed and switched to his right ear so he could cradle the phone in his shoulder and sit more comfortably.
"It is part of my utility package if I wanted cable. I do not use it much," he said, forgetting himself sometimes that he had a Muggle phone, the television a requirement to keep the kiddies happy. Opening the file he balanced it on his knees again.
"I was wondering if you had a chance to read the file over yet."
"Ouch, don't tug," Draco hissed to Clarissa softly, hand over the mouthpiece for a moment. "Yes, I have it right here actually," he said now to Reamann, looking over the file like he had been for the last hour as the children watched their movie.
Michelangelo was in the chair that was slightly ahead and to Draco's left, bored with the movie he had not wanted to watch in the first place. He had gotten control of the entertainment the night before, and it was now Clarissa's turn. That meant they were watching Annie, and to keep Michelangelo from giving her a hard time about singing along, Draco had joined her and sung too. Oh what being a father had done to him.
"Well?" he said, expectantly.
"You expect me to discuss this with you over the phone and offer you my summary?" Draco asked, Michelangelo looking over at him in curiosity.
"Humor me, I need to have a better clue than I do now if I'm to go in tomorrow and work with Sebastian. I dealt with him already today, I can't deal with that man talking down to me again," he said.
"Get enough of that from me, huh?" Draco asked, being difficult.
"He's new to the case and I already get the impression that he knows what's going on better than I do," he said, the frustration in his voice carrying over the phone quite plainly.
"He's a clever one," Draco said wistfully, flipping through the folder.
"Draco."
"Just relax and give me a minute," he said shortly and Michelangelo smirked, enjoying overhearing his father reprimanding another adult. "We know it was the Cruciatus Curse used," he said and Reamann just made an indistinct noise of agreement and encouragement. "This whole scene is reminiscent of the tortures back in the original war well over two decades ago. It is almost like someone is trying to pin this on the Death Eaters."
"Pin it on the Death Eaters…no Death Eater a part of this?" Reamann asked and Draco sighed, closing the folder and straightening his left leg out in front of him while gripping the phone, his right leg trapped up against his chest by the coffee table.
"Reamann, there are no Death Eaters still left from that original war. They are all either dead or still in Azkaban. The only supposed Death Eaters out and about today are second generation and family members, none of which took part in any of the grotesque grievances of the first war," he said simply, Michelangelo looking on, interested in his father's words.
"You're positive about that?" Reamann asked and Draco pulled the phone away from his ear to glare at it.
"Sod off," Draco said, slamming the phone down to hang up on Reamann. Michelangelo smirked and Clarissa covered her mouth and giggled.
"Don't repeat Daddy's foul language," he warned and they both nodded, Michelangelo with a sort of rolling eyes that gave Draco the impression that he already made practice of repeating a lot of the things he had heard him say when he lost his temper. He would be bothered by that a little more, if he hadn't had a dirty mouth at twelve as well. So long as Michelangelo didn't cut loose in front of him, or worse, his mother, he would not fret it much.
Draco put the file aside, refusing to look at it anymore because Reamann was a dingbat, and sat there, watching the movie as Clarissa braided an awkward piece of his long hair and used a sparkling pink clip to tack it up and work on another piece.
The phone rang and Draco ignored it.
It rang a dozen times and he did not pick it up.
It could ring all night and he wouldn't answer it.
Unfortunately the same was not true for Michelangelo.
He leaned over the arm of the squishy and abused brown chair and walked on his hands so that his body was suspended over the ground, his feet still in the chair, and grabbed the receiver. His quickly backtracked his way back into the chair in reverse and held the phone up.
"Malfoy residence," he said sweetly into the phone.
"Michael?" Reamann asked.
"This is, whom may I ask is calling?" he asked, knowing exactly who it was, and smiling at the glare his father was giving him. It wouldn't have been so funny if it weren't for the hair.
"This is Reamann Rossiter, I was over for supper the other night and came to visit yesterday? I work with your father and I had just called…"
"Right, right, right, I remember," he said, cutting Reamann off in one of his longwinded explanations. "May I please have the nature of this call?"
"I need to speak to your father."
"He a bit busy at the moment."
"What is he doing?"
"Weeping," Michelangelo said and Reamann was quiet for a moment.
"Weeping?"
"I am not weeping, give me the phone," Draco said, leaning up to snatch it from Michelangelo. Michelangelo squatted up on the chair though and attempted to keep it out of reach.
"Oh, right, weeping. It's really quite awful, what did you say to upset him so? I have never seen him like this," he said, standing and hopping down off the chair while talking, the effect not ruined because Reamann could not see his grinning face. Running the long way around the coffee table, dragging the phone along with him by its long cord, Michelangelo tried to evade his father.
"Michael, put your father on the phone."
"Give me the phone you little Hinkypunk," Draco warned, running after him. Michelangelo ran out of cord and the base that sat on the floor could reach no further on its cord that plugged to the wall.
"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, honestly," he said, Draco almost on him. He grinned and tossed Clarissa the receiver as Draco grabbed him around the middle. Clarissa was standing on the couch and bent at the knees slightly to catch the phone low. She put it to her ear and talked very calmly into it, her sweet voice chiming.
"Hello Mr. Rossiter, it's so nice to hear from you again," she said.
"Awright you two, enough of this," Draco said and Michelangelo attempted to keep him from reaching the couch.
"You caused quite a reaction in my father, and he said a naughty word. I hope you are proud of yourself, causing a man to curse in front of children," she said, leaning back in a last-ditch attempt to keep the phone from her father.
"Give…me…that," he said through his teeth due to his effort, reaching for her, holding Michelangelo around the middle, upside down so that his bent legs were in the air as he laughed, in his other arm.
Clarissa was grabbed around the ankle and her feet were pulled out from under her. She giggled as she landed on her bum with a plop and a bounce on the couch cushions. Draco tossed Michelangelo next to her so he was still arse in the air and laughing. Draco smacked him in the face with a pillow as he panted and got the phone from Clarissa.
"Reamann…Reamann, are you there?" he asked, trying to balance himself, his file now spilled out across the floor where the papers had spread out from being trampled.
"Draco, is that you?" Reamann asked.
"Yes," Draco said, trying to wipe away a chunk of his "beautifully" styled hair from his eyes, "Yes," he managed, tripping over the phone cord and stumbling slightly, it pulled tight and long while wrapped around the table and strung across the space between it and the couch like a trip-cord.
"I did not mean to insult you just then," he said, still unsure of all he had just heard happen on the other end of the line.
"Your insensitivity never ceases to amaze me," Draco said, signaling with just his finger for the children to get ready for bed. He snapped and then pointed to each of them firmly and then in the direction of the hallway.
"It's a hard-knock life, for us," Clarissa started singing loudly as she jumped off the couch, Michelangelo joining in just to be disruptive while his father was on the phone. Draco glared at them and pointed more to get them to leave the room, the whole time Reamann was talking on and on into the phone about how he did not mean to be insensitive.
"Instead'a treated…"
"We get tricked!" Michelangelo replied.
"Instead'a kisses…"
"We get kicked!"
"It's a hard-knock life!" they sang together on the top of their lungs so that they would still be heard loud and clear from down the hall.
"Sorry, sorry," Draco said, hand over his free ear to block out the sound of his children being a pain in his arse. "Listen, Reamann, don't mention it. But I have to go now. I will have a report ready for you by the time you come into work tomorrow. Don't bother coming by, it's not worth the walk. I'll just send it up in the middle of some texts so no one will be suspicious, awright?" he said, not giving Reamann a chance to say anything, because if he did, he would never shut up. "Awright, night," he said, hanging up the phone.
He stood there for a moment, his papers a mess on the floor, the movie still playing on the telly though nearly muted, and his hair "styled" and hanging in his face a little.
"Awright you little Horklumps," Draco called, marching himself down the hall, the sound of his children's laughing meeting him all the way from their bedroom. He was not angry, he was actually smiling as he mockingly pushed up his sleeves, ready to rough his children up by picking them up, flipping them upside down, and dropping them onto their beds as they laughed and wrestled with him.
They had only meant to cheer him up, and they had. Reamann's potion gave him the energy to do this, and he supposed he should take advantage of it and make the best of it while the potions lasted.
He doubted he would be getting many potions from the man once Reamann found out about him and Ginny.
-----------------------------
Saturday at the Ministry passed rather uneventfully.
Draco sent up to Reamann his summary of the scene, Reamann apparently, thankfully, taking Draco's advice and not coming down to see him.
The case was complex, and Draco honestly had no idea what to expect next. There was no pattern, and the cases no longer followed a reliable timeframe so they did not even know when to expect the next attack. What was seriously lacking was a motive. It was almost like the attacks had no purpose, that they were there just to keep them busy, or because someone really enjoyed harming others.
Not wanting to dwell on the case and drive himself mental, Draco got a lot of shelving done, a lot of backed up organizing, and even managed to tidy up his desk area some, it still not being properly set right after the Ministry bullies-er-Guards had had their way with it.
The highlight of the workday came in the form of a note from Ginny at around two in the afternoon, her cute bubbly lettering expressing her excitement about spending the following day with him, explaining her lunch with Hermione and their plans for how they would cover up her time spent with Draco.
Apparently the plan was to have some kind of "girls' day out" or something.
Hermione would pretend to spend the day with Ginny; doing whatever "girly things" women did in a day's time. While Ginny and Draco would be off doing…things…Hermione would buy some stuff and take notes on what Ginny supposedly did and saw, so she would have a cover story for all who would ask.
Draco was sure Hermione was just looking for an excuse to take notes on something. That woman seriously needed a hobby other than being a know-it-all nerd with bad hair. Could having incurably bad hair be a hobby?
Draco was excited over spending his day with Ginny, and he could not deny it. He wrote back in his own long and elegant script expressing this, only not nearly as giddy as he felt. He kept it cool and suave. This was a fling to her; no sense in acting like it was anything more than that by being overly sentimental.
Somehow, that thought bummed him just a little.
Otherwise, his day was looking up, but Coderdale managed to bring him down a bit, more than the truth about his relationship did.
He was not exactly giving Draco the "cold-shoulder," but he had simply lost a certain sparkle in his ancient eyes and kept all conversations between them extremely brief and work oriented.
Draco did his best to not let Coderdale's frigidity get to him.
Coderdale needed to deal.
He had said so himself: Draco was an adult and allowed to live his life however he wanted.
So why was he not talking to him, and why had he taken his fags away? He needed those!
-------------------------
It was Michelangelo's birthday.
He was twelve…twelve.
Draco groaned at the thought.
He was much too young to have a twelve year old. God, Michelangelo was a year away from being a…gasp…teenager.
Draco actually learned that he was the first of his year to become a parent, though that had hardly surprised him given how young he had been when Michelangelo was born. But still, to learn he had also overshot the two years that had graduated ahead of him, he felt a little awkward. No wonder his mother had pitched a fit.
Draco got off work on time to head home and spend the late afternoon, evening, and night with the family. It was a small affair, his family being small, there only being the four Malfoys left and the Blacks even more limited then that at that point, but there was ice-cream cake…chocolate and vanilla layers…and some presents. Draco did not believe in combining Michelangelo's birthday with Christmas just because they were so close together. It belittled the special-ness of Michelangelo's day and he was sure Jesus wouldn't appreciate it either.
Michelangelo and Clarissa were special to him, his whole world really, and they were grateful for all they had. Most children would complain over getting only a few small gifts, mostly clothing, but his did not. They were humble and thankful, and Draco had a lot to thank his mother for in regards to that. She had raised them for him for a long time. Christina had dumped the children onto his mother (once his mother was out) while going off to do her own thing, while he sat in prison. His mother hated her for that. In all honesty, Draco had a suspicion at first that it had been his mother that had killed her.
Never mind all that, Narcissa was like a mother to them, and doted upon them as best she could. She was the one that had brought the cake.
What would Ginny do to their dynamic? Their little family? The children were too young to properly remember their true mother, Draco did not like talking about her, and his mother certainly would never mention her, certainly not in a kind word.
If he introduced them, the children, to the idea of Ginny, would they take it well?
Yes, Ginny was a fling, but he had never dated before. His children needed to get used to the idea that there could quite possibly be a woman in his life, and Ginny could be a steppingstone for a more serious relationship, right? He could bring her around a little bit, test the waters with them; see if they could welcome a woman into their home. Maybe things would go well with the children, Ginny and him would move on, and he could bring home a more proper girlfriend.
Draco's heart sagged a little then despite the excitement in the room and the noisemakers popping and spewing glitter and streamers.
"Michael, don't point that at your sister when you pull the string, it's dangerous," Narcissa scolded.
Why did the thought of Ginny just being a steppingstone in his reentry into the dating scene make him so sad? Why did the idea that she was not a proper girlfriend make him sadder?
Was it because he really liked her?
Was Coderdale right about him hurting himself with this?
No, certainly not.
But some part of him did not believe that, and curled up sadly inside of him to become a dull weight in his stomach.
"Dad, cheers!" Clarissa shouted, popping her own party favor over his head and showering him with its magical contents, everyone laughing, Draco smiling through the streamers that now draped from him and over his face.
"I suppose I have your aunt Nymphadora to thank for these," he laughed, grabbing Clarissa, pulling her onto his lap, and tickling her.
-------------------
Ginny Apparated to the safe point nearest Draco's home and walked down the snowy sidewalk. It was early; the sun was bright and reflecting off the snow harshly.
Draco stood on his front steps, waiting for her, bundled up warmly.
"Draco," she said with a smile, holding up her arms as she moved towards him, embracing him at the bottom of the steps and giving him a thorough kiss.
"Morning," he said, smiling down at her once they broke apart.
"Why did you wait outside? It's freezing," she said, shivering as though to emphasize her point. Draco did not say it was because he did not want to invite her in and have her discover his children.
"My mother is over, and I figured our departure would go smoother if we avoided a scene," he said and she nodded.
"I suppose so."
"Are you up for a drive?" he asked, pulling away to walk towards the street where an old, red Mini Cooper sat. He was wearing black fingerless gloves and he twirled a set of car keys around his long middle finger of his left hand before then grasping them in his palm.
"You can drive? You have a car?" she asked, standing there, rooted in her spot in surprise while Draco Malfoy: Pureblood Prince of Slytherin walked around the little Muggle car to look at her over it.
"Yes I can drive, but no, I do not have a car. This is my mother's car. Do you really think I'm a Mini Cooper driving sort'a chap?" he laughed and she looked at him. "Come on, I'm a licensed driver so don't fuss."
Ginny nodded, and climbed down into the car. It was more spacious than it looked from the outside, but not due to magic, just clever Muggle engineering. She had that familiar fuzzy feeling in regards to Draco she got whenever he did something terribly normal. The idea of him learning to drive, getting his picture taken for a Muggle license, it was all too funny for her to bear. She managed though to only smile while he wasn't looking.
"The drive is not terrible, Sunday traffic should be easier too," he said.
"Where are we going?"
"We have to travel west, to Wilts," he answered.
"We are going to Wiltshire?" she asked in disbelief.
"That we are," he said simply.
"Why?"
"It's a surprise," he said through a smirk.
He started the car, drew his seatbelt down across him, and pulled out from the curb. Ginny followed suit with the seatbelt and looked over at Draco, not sure exactly what to say right then.
Using the term "fling" made her think "sex" and that had not been her whole intention when it came to Draco, but she had possibly given him that idea Friday. She loved the idea of going on a date, like they were apparently doing now, but they were still practically strangers. They fancied each other, they shared a past, they connected on some level…but they didn't know a lot about each other still. That made things awkward, for her at least.
"If there is something you would like to know about me, Weasley darling, you could just ask. The worst that could happen is I just refuse to answer," he said simply, an edge of amusement to his voice that filled the otherwise very quiet compartment. It made Ginny jump.
"I don't…"
"Please, don't try and lie to me, t'won't work," he said, signaling and changing lanes. "If you feel we know so little about each other, just start asking away. I'll answer you your questions if it will put your mind at ease so you can enjoy our day once we arrive."
"You were reading my thoughts, weren't you?"
"It's habitual," he shrugged.
"It's rude," she quipped back, sounding a little testy.
"Ah, now there is that fire in you I loved so much those years ago," he said with a smile, glancing over at her through the corner of his eye.
"How much did you like me those years ago?" she asked.
"You need to be a little more specific over what years you are talking about, Weasley darling,"
"The timeframe not obvious enough for you?" she asked and he smiled, looking over at him then. She had meant the night they had kissed and those days preceding the final battle, he obviously had feelings for her that extended far before those cold nights if he was unsure of when she was talking about.
"I just inadvertently admitted too much now, didn't I?" he laughed.
"You liked me before the war?"
"A little," he said dismissively.
"How much is 'a little'?" she asked.
"I would occasionally imagine you starkers," he teased and she blushed, reaching over and pinching his arm though it was not as harsh as usual thanks to her gloves and his coat.
"You're making fun of me," she accused.
"No, I'm not," he laughed, "I swear, I am not. You really came into your own after your fourth year," he said.
"You liked me since your fifth?"
"No, well, not all that year. I was with Pansy and that was the first year I really felt, I don't know, more at home in my skin and more willing to explore…things. Unfortunately, the problem right there was what I just said, I was with Pansy. The time in my life when I really would have enjoyed exploring the opposite sex some and I was attached to her."
"Come on, Draco, she wasn't that bad."
"Her face could have been fixed with a few spells, or a pillowcase with eyeholes cut out, but her personality was tremendously wearing. Short stints she was fine, even enjoyable, but she was so possessive, and clingy. She was also rather dumb, or rather, did not have a mind for anything I found remotely interesting, so unless we sat together, spewing our mindless bigoted dribble and harsh ties about our fellow students, we hadn't much to talk about at all."
"So, you started liking me, of all people?" she asked.
"Well, I think that is a little strong of an assumption. It wasn't like you were a beckon of light that shone whenever we were in the same room together. I just happened to admire a few girls from afar, and you were one of them, a favorite, I'll give you that much," he said, looking over at her.
"Really, I did not know this, or that it had extended as far back as Hogwarts," she said, blushing. The most sought-after boy in school after Cedric's death had fancied her…her? She felt butterflies even though the pressures of social existence and acceptance in Hogwarts were long past.
"Well, you were Potter's girl, everyone knew that, even when you two were not an official couple. Honestly, I think you two, possibly that dimwitted…sorry…brother of yours, were the last to realize you two were a couple. The rest of us knew," he said and she laughed, forgiving Draco for slipping up and insulting her brother, just so long as she didn't have to make a habit of it.
"Yeah, well, I admired you a bit too," she admitted, batting her eyelashes at him.
"Did you now," he asked, not sounding terribly surprised and her flaring up at how pretentious he was, that being oddly attractive about him while managing to be utterly annoying.
"Well, the entire female populous of Hogwarts did really," she said.
"Some of the faculty too, so was rumored," he said with a grin that was so reminiscent of him back in those days it was enough to make some adolescent part of her deep inside flutter with her girlish crush. He had had the best smile in school, if only he had used it more often, and not when he was being a prat.
That little part of her on the inside was squealing in excitement: she had him! She finally had the unreachable, untouchable Draco Malfoy! Maybe Hermione was right, and she was drawn to his "bad-boy" image, but could anyone really blame her? He was cute and cunning while charmingly conceited and charismatic.
"I have to admit, you were nice to look at," she said.
"Were, as in past tense, as in, I no longer am?" he asked, not looking over at her. Ginny's smile faltered. She had not meant to imply that. She looked him over, really looked him over, and felt he was really actually bothered by that and was not just teasing.
"No, no, I enjoy looking at you, I'm looking at you right now aren't I?" she asked, trying to regain the mood they had had going. They were doing so well, their trip had been fun so far…she did not want it to stop. Apparently Draco did not either.
"Sorry, was I defensive? I did not mean to be," he said bashfully. "Keep talking about how pretty I am and how much you longed for me in Hogwarts, I liked hearing about that," he said and she laughed, looking out her window and then back at him.
"God, you are such a prat. I can't tell if you are joking or being serious because you sound so sincere."
"Oh, I'm being quite serious. You keep calling me a prat, yet I don't get the feeling you are even using it for its intended purpose of being hurtful. Is that your pet name for me, Weasley? It's very clever…so fitting and accurate a descriptor of me and one you can let slip in public and not leave people wondering," he teased.
"God, you are so full of yourself, you are impossible to insult aren't you," she laughed.
"I would only be insulted if you started calling me 'snuggle-bear' or something along those lines and equally as embarrassing," he said and Ginny could not stop laughing.
"Snuggle-bear?"
"It was the first thing that popped into my mind, shut up," he said defensively while pouting cutely and staring intently at the road ahead.
"No, no…I like it. Or hunny-bunny," she said,
"Oh, God, no…I forbid this, woman. You make no mention of these names to anyone or so help me God," he said and she just laughed.
"Okay, okay," she said before smirking mischievously, "…Schnookums," she tagged on and Draco groaned.
"Stop this, you horrible woman. I will call you Red, don't think I won't," he warned.
"Ugh, God," she said in disgust, that being her least favorite epithet people used in regards to her. She was not "baby" or "doll" or "sweet thing" to guys that would hit on her. No, those were all belittling and insulting, but she was always, always, "red," and she hated it. Draco knew this, thus why he had threatened to use it against her.
They had recovered nicely. The atmosphere in the car was light and pleasant again, both laughing, but Ginny more than him. He seemed to prefer to keep his laughs quiet and sophisticated. Respectable and polite. Ginny felt she really needed to break him of all this culturing his mother had done to him.
"Now, speaking of your crush on me back in Hogwarts once again, how often did you imagine me starkers? Once a week? Twice a week? Every night with your wand set on vibrate, Ow!" he said, gripping his arm after she pinched him again. "No pinching, God, you are worse than a child," he said, swinging his left hand at her, not daring to take his eyes off the road at that moment and his aim thusly compromised. He playfully slapped at her as she blocked him every time, him finally managing a hit on her leg.
"You are such a prat. Prat, prat, prat, and I mean that!"
"You are only upset because you can't deny it, notice that you did not try," he said and she rolled her eyes at him.
"Whatever, you'll think what you will anyways, no matter what I say."
"So, I crushed on you a little, and you crushed on me a little, what would have happened if we, say, met in an empty corridor, late at night? Me doing my Prefect or better yet, Inquisitorial Squad, rounds and duties, you out past curfew," he said and she blushed.
"Draco-"
"Come on, use your imagination."
"If you made a pass at me I would have hexed you," she said.
"Ah, so you are into the kinky-rough stuff. Awright, I'm game…you hex me, I hex you, I choose the Ventosus Spell, it's known to blow people's clothing off if used just the right way."
Ginny tilted her head back against the headrest and laughed.
"Fine, so you have blown my robes off, now I'm in my knickers and furiously hexing you with Furnunculus Spell, then what?"
"Ouch," Draco said, having a smile at the mental image of Ginny in her knickers and imagining just what kind she would wear. Pastel pink cotton would have been fitting. Or purple, he liked purple. "Well, while all oozing with my hairy boils? Probably not much. You are no fun," he pouted.
"Alright, alright. Lets try it this way…we, by some mistake, book the Quidditch Pitch at the same time," she said.
"Awright," he agreed.
"We are both already dressed and psyched up for a personal practice, but meet each other on the pitch."
"Awright," he said.
"What happens next?"
"I call you a Blood-Traitor and tell you to get the bloody hell off my pitch before I damage one of you four brain cells you share between your family, or would that be Galleons?" he said.
"Ouch, Malfoy."
"Hey, you asked," he said defensively.
"There was really no way we would have ever hooked up in Hogwarts, is there?"
"I really don't see it, no," he said, sounding a little disappointed somehow.
"Well, okay, so you fancied me, I fancied you. When did it stop being a passing fancy and become you wanting to kiss me?" she asked and he blushed.
"Oh, that," he said.
"Yes, that," she teased.
"Awright, I said I would answer your questions," he said with a sigh. "To be honest, it was a growing thing…you approaching me that first night I showed up with Harry to the Order's camp with my, well, tail between my legs, you offering to help me when I was hurt, fighting along side me against the Giants…" he said, looking very attentively at the road. "I did not realize it though…or maybe just 'refused to acknowledge' is more accurate…until, well, just before I kissed you. I don't mean to be harsh or belittle it in any way what we did, but I really did think I was going to die. I had given up on everything, and did not care anymore. I really did think that was my last night. That was all that gave me the courage to do what I did. I felt I had nothing to lose and just went for it," he said, looking very intently on the road before him.
"My-my," she said, smiling at him.
"Oh, shut up, you kissed me right back," he retorted in an accusing manner.
"I did," she said, agreeing easily.
"Why did you let me kiss you?" he asked, softly now.
"Why?" she asked and Draco just glanced over at her. "Because, well, I felt that it could very well be our last night, and I had day-dreamed about kissing you before, and having it actually happen was, well, something far too good to pass up."
"So you did it because it was fulfilling some girlish fantasy, not because you really had feelings for…"
"No, no, I did not say that. Goodness, you are defensive," she said and he flushed. "I never would have thought Draco Malfoy, the most boisterous and pompous boy in Hogwarts was so insecure," she said, almost a little annoyed that she could not say one thing without him taking it wrong and her having to explain herself and assure him otherwise. He was like a woman, she was half expecting him to ask her if she thought he was fat when he obviously isn't, and for him to get mad at her regardless of her answer.
Draco just grumbled under his breath. Had he been reading her active thoughts when she had compared him to an unappeasable woman? He had been looking at her. She almost hoped so, if that meant he would ease down some on the defensive he always seemed to coast on.
"I liked you, but a major part of me was confused at that time. I honestly did not know what I wanted. All the fighting, all the death, all the pain…your kiss was a release from all that, and a needed one. You made me feel safe when nothing else around me could."
"I'm touched," he said softly, though there was a dryness there, he not as keen on the idea that she had simply used him to comfort herself as the idea that she had secretly fancied him for years. Both were apparently true, but he'd rather think he were irresistible, not convenient.
"Why didn't we have sex that night?" she asked and Draco twitched a little.
"Excuse me?"
"We were so close, you there on top of me, hands groping me through my robes and shirt, we could have done it right there, blamed it on passion and the heat of the moment later -"
"Heat of the moment? It was freezing out," he interrupted but Ginny talked over him.
"-if we felt we had to, but you pulled away. I remember you pulling away and looking pained, but not from any sort of physical affliction. What had happened?" she asked.
Draco's profile looked uncomfortable.
"My mother raised me better…"
"Oh, now, I know that's true, but I know that's not the reason. You were not thinking of your mum out there, while with me, in that position," she said with utter confidence and certainty, cutting him off.
Draco sighed.
"I did not want to...I did not know at the time…" he seemed to be uncertain about his words. Ginny said nothing, giving him space to collect his thoughts. "I was…am a werewolf, and you knew that so that wasn't my problem, but…I did not know…I mean, I was not sure if I would get you sick if we…" he said, still stumbling over his words, something that seemed so unlike him.
"You were afraid you would infect me, through sex? Is that possible?"
"Blood to blood contact will," he said. He clearly needing to discuss this with her now, it was a pretty relevant issue. "I was not sure if my other…fluids…would infect you, or could carry the illness…I thought I would be dead by the next evening, but you could have lived, and that would have been a very shitty thing to do to you, die and leave you with lycanthropy, or even leave you pregnant, because of a moment of 'passion,'" he said.
"I understand your fear, but pregnant? Come on, Draco, on our first and only time?"
"It's possible," he said dismissively, not wanting to linger on that point too long while fighting not to think about Michelangelo…or Clarissa. "I think we really need to talk about this though, if we are going to have a sexual relationship," he said.
"Talk about pregnancy?" she asked,
"No…well, yes, okay, but in the prevention of it," he said, looking over at her, hoping she agreed there. She apparently did.
"Can you really get me sick, just by having sex with me?" she asked.
"Ah, well, that's a complex question. I would say no, but there is a tiny, microscopic, nearly nonexistent, possibility that something could happen that would make it possible," he said uncomfortably.
"You said blood to blood contact?"
"Yes, that is basically the only way of contaminating another while not in wolf-form. I don't get the vibe from you that you are into bestiality, so I don't think we need to talk about cautions while having sex when I'm not in a human form, right?" he said and she flushed and slapped his arm. Draco was able to smile, despite the seriousness of what he was about to say. "Every part of me carries the illness, hair, skin, saliva, et cetera, but nothing but my blood is infectious when I'm just a man."
"But being bitten or scratched by a werewolf is how you get infected, so I thought."
"We are contagious in beast form. In that form the condition extends to all…fluids, like saliva, and other things, like hair and nails."
"What if you bit or scratched me as is? My brother Bill got tainted…"
"Oh yes, William Weasley," he said, nodding. "He was tainted, not infected, which is different," he said.
"How did Bill get sick if Greyback had not been a wolf when he attacked him? What is it to be tainted, not infected?" she asked. Draco licked his lips.
"I'm not infectious in the state I am now, and terribly infections in the wolf state…so the state in-between, that is: if I were to be partially shifted, I would be able to partially infect you, or in other words, taint you," he explained. "To be tainted is just to have some of the characteristics or habits, without having the shift, or being contagious yourself." Ginny nodded. "Greyback was capable of partially shifting, and that was his state when he attacked your brother," he said.
"Can you partially shift?" she asked.
"Why?" he asked, suddenly very defensive again.
"I need to know."
"You worried I could hurt you?"
"I'm curious," she said, part of it being, yes, she was a little nervous about him possibly, accidentally, making her sick. She did not have a problem with werewolves, really, she just really did not want to be one.
"Greyback was a Greater-wolf, making him very strong and powerful," he said. Ginny looked at him. "I am a Greater-wolf myself, but I have not …embraced…my illness like Greyback had. As a result, my potential is not met."
"But can you?"
Draco looked over at her, very serious.
"Yes," he admitted and then pressed on. "But I have control. Though I have the illness and it extends to every part of me, I can't harm you or anyone with my teeth and nails as they are now," he said, holding out his thin left hand to her so she could see his short manicured nails. "You only have to fear my blood. If I get a paper cut, I'll warn you," he said, trying to make light of the situation. Ginny almost smiled.
There was silence in the car for a long moment.
"If this makes you uneasy, we don't have to continue," he offered and Ginny looked over at him.
"What?"
"If me being a werewolf is just too much for you to handle, then we don't have to do this," he said, his voice calm and indifferent, his insides pained at his words.
"No, no, I mean, it is something I need to understand and take precautions for, but I…I don't see why we can't keep going…"
"You're scared of me," he said simply.
"Damn it, stay out of my head," she said fiercely.
"I did not have to read your feelings to know, you are wringing your hands and refusing to look at me," he said calmly and Ginny cursed.
"It is just a very new thing. I mean, I have nothing against werewolves, I happen to be friends with a few."
"Lupin?"
"Yeah, he is one," she said and Draco nodded.
"I just, I have never dated one, or had sex with one before, and I did not realize I would have to…worry."
"You shouldn't worry too much, or be so anxious," he reassured. "My 'Support Wizard' at the Ministry assured me that, if I wanted to be as careful as possible…given that I'm a Greater-wolf and thusly my contagiousness is proportionately higher, though very, very slight still…and if my partner were uneasy, I would only have to wear a condom. He assured me that just about guarded against any mishap, and would protect against pregnancy at the same time," he said.
"So, you'll wear rubbers and all is set?" she asked.
"Um, yes, I suppose," he said, feeling like he should say more, but not wanting to scare her anymore than she already was.
Really, the chances of her getting in any way sick (tainted or otherwise) was very slim…but he felt that he really should make sure Ginny understood that there was a very, very, very small chance still, that even with precautions like condoms, something bad could happen. Nothing was ever one-hundred percent…well, except abstinence, but he was sure he was just being overly paranoid.
He had a condom in his back pocket.
Would they use it that day?
He was not sure, but he had it with him just in case.
He did not care how badly he wanted her; he would not have unprotected sex with Ginny. The chances of him getting her sick were microscopic, but the chances of him getting her pregnant seemed high with his track record so far and her family's reputation. Most of her brothers had paired off and started their own litters. In one generation the family had grown exponentially. Draco himself was two for two, and that was a record he would willingly let die.
"So you stopped that night, for my sake?" she asked, leaning her head back to look at him with heavy-lidded eyes.
"I liked you too much to hurt you."
"That's really touching that, in the middle of it all, you would still think of me first," she said, reaching up with her right hand to stroke the side of his face. She ran the back of her knuckle over his high cheekbone and down his shadowed and slightly sunken-in cheek.
"I think you are making a bigger deal of it than it was," he said, blushing, eyes on the road.
"I never would have tagged you as the modest type either," she said with a soft smile, tucking his hair behind his ear for him, letting her hand drop a little to just play with his long ends by his hip.
"I'm just full of surprises apparently," he said, watching the road so Ginny missed his smile while she played with his hair.
There was quiet for a long moment, and Ginny finally spoke up,
"What was your wife like?" she asked. Draco did not react badly, but his lack of a reaction gave Ginny the feeling that he had closed himself off so she would not see his reaction.
"Why do you ask?"
"Well, you offered to answer my questions, and you only mentioned that you had been married before, and that you had loved her more than she had loved you, but nothing more. No name, no details. You know Harry, and about my marriage, but I don't know anything about your wife, or your marriage," she said.
"There isn't much to say on the matter," he said.
"Well, okay, I can understand that it hurts to talk about the relationship itself, but how about, what did she look like? What was her name?" she asked, voice soft as she leaned on her seat, twisted to face him partially, stroking his hair softly. She didn't want to be like Reamann and jabbing her curiosity into Draco's still healing wounds, but there wasn't a woman out there that wasn't curious about her man's past flames and how she could quite possibly stack up. Draco had obviously loved his wife, probably still did since he wore his wedding band to this day, and Ginny was not jealous…much, but she knew there was some amount of competition there for Draco's heart. Once you have loved someone, a piece of your heart always will love them, and Ginny wondered how much of Draco's heart she had to work with.
"Her name was Christina," he said simply.
"Christina? It's a pretty name," she said, waiting to see if Draco would offer a last name, but he didn't. "What did she look like?" she then went on to ask.
"She was freakishly tall," he said and Ginny managed to not laugh too hard at that.
"Really?"
"She was taller than me at least, so that did make her rather tall for a woman."
"How tall are you?" she asked. Draco was quiet. "Draco?"
"About five-foot-nine," he mumbled.
"That's not bad, no really, it isn't," she assured. Draco did not look convinced. "Well, what else did she look like? She was tall…"
"Honestly?" he said and she waited. "She looked a lot like you," he said and Ginny leaned away from her seat and stopped petting his hair. "Green eyes though," he said, looking over deeply into her brown ones for a moment before watching the road again. "She was scottish, nice thick accent. Her hair was red, like yours is, but curlier, very curly," he said, thinking of the curls both his children had inherited from her. "She had warm skin, like you," he said, reaching over to place his hand on her cheek while glancing over at her. Ginny tilted her head into his palm so it rested in it. "She had a lot of freckles when she was young for sure and still had them on her shoulders. She was pretty, but she was also older than me," he confessed.
"How much older?"
"Sixteen years," he said and Ginny's eyes widened as his hand dropped away from her face to hold the wheel again.
"Wow," she said, that being all she could manage. Age difference becomes less of a big deal over time, once both are matured adults, but she knew Draco had been young when he had married, widower by twenty-two. A wife sixteen years older when he was not even twenty yet was rather…unusual.
"I think I was attracted to her so strongly at first because, honestly, she reminded me of you," he confessed, not mentioning how scared he was of her upon their first meeting and introduction. Ginny didn't know what to say to that. "You have a better personality though…but she was very smart, smart enough to make me feel dumb sometimes."
"I find that hard to imagine."
"Which part? That I can be intimidated or that there are people smarter than I?"
"Both."
"I'm flattered, Weasley," he smiled.
"You're insufferable," she said, not able to insult him yet again.
"You're putting up with me," he pointed out.
"Well, alright, so your wife reminded you of me. Is that a good or bad thing in regards to our relationship?"
"I don't follow," he said, her thoughts and feelings conflicting. Her feelings were warm, and fuzzy, and loving, but her thoughts were insecure and intimidated. It made her hard to read and he had to stop trying lest he confuse himself.
"Will I invoke bad memories because of some shared resemblance?" she asked.
"Oh, well, no, I don't think so. Just don't break my heart, awright?" he said, very clearly teasing at that point, but some part of him being very serious about that.
"I will try," she said, smiling over at him. "You know, I think I started to date Reamann because he reminded me of you a little," she confessed and Draco looked over at her.
"Oh, I fail to see the resemblance," he said flatly.
"No, you two are very different, but you two have a lot of the same nervous habits. The way Reamann fusses with his hair, it reminds me of you," she said just as Draco ran his fingers through his hair, to push it out of his face and eyes. He realized that was what she was talking about and looked over at her.
"You are dating Reamann because you fancy his hair?" he asked.
"It makes up for the fact that he sometimes talks too much and is a little tactless, but he really is a sweetheart," she said and Draco laughed at that. Ginny felt Reamann's hair made up for the fact that he was damned annoying and inconsiderate. It was very funny to him…it gave him hope at least. Maybe his hair would save him from being truly unendurable.
"I think you are a sweetheart too, if you would only let people see it more."
"I think that is just wishful thinking on your part, Weasley darling," he said and she leaned against her seat.
"We'll see," she said, confident in being right.
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Author's Note:
I did a little cliche crushing in this chapter, sorry if I shot down your favorite D+G cliche.
My fic is trying to stick to canon as much as possible, I'm going for an alternate ending sort of deal as though DH never happened, so in Draco and Ginny's conversation in the car -of course- they would have to dismiss the idea that they would ever have hooked-up at Hogwarts.
Michelangelo turned 12 in this chapter, on Dec. 22nd. Yes, it might be odd to you that Draco was singing along to Annie with his daughter, but anyone who has actually had kids would be able to back me up on this: once you are a parent suddenly you are constantly referring to yourself in third person as "mummy" or "daddy", you are singing along with Disney movies and know all the names of the different Wiggles, and you catch yourself calling your stomach a "tummy" while conversing with other adults. It happens, even to Draco Malfoys. :)