Unofficial Portkey Archive

Blue-Eyed Angel

Chapter Three

Draco walked down the cobbled street of Diagon Alley. His joints were in agony today, and he knew it was the cold to blame. He hated that he needed to use a cane, and he preferred to think of it as a style statement, a status symbol. His father had walked with a cane that had contained his wand and had had a serpent's head with emerald eyes. Draco's cane was far less glamorous, while moreover lacking a wand, and was needed more for its intended purpose than anything; but no one needed to know that.

It was snowing and cold, but thankfully there was no wind. The snowflakes fluttered gently to the ground, or anything that met them on the way down. Draco was one of those things, as was everyone else on the street. He was wrapped up warm in his faded cloak, hood in place as always when in public, the snow building up on his shoulders.

Carolers sang and owls hooted as Draco Malfoy entered Flourish & Blotts to the jingling of a tiny bell. After having spent all day at work surrounded by books, it seemed silly to then go to a bookshop, but he had made arrangements to meet someone there.

Walking slowly while looking around, Draco sought out his cohort. It did not take long for him to find her; she did kind of stick out amongst the dark shelves.

"Mother," Draco said, while smiling and moving as quickly as he could over to her, embracing her in a one-armed hug.

"Angel! Hello, darling," she said, hugging him back. "How are you?"

"Awright," he mumbled.

"You look awful," she said, her face falling slightly while taking in her son's gaunt appearance.

"Mother, please," Draco attempted, not really wanting to be babied by his mother, at least not in public.

"Come here, sit down," she said, guiding him over to a table amongst the shelves where she pushed him down into a seat. "You are walking with your cane again."

"It's just the cold, has me a bit ropey," he said, trying to be dismissive.

"Oh, you would play down your own death if you could," Narcissa said, fussing over her son. "Here," she said, dropping her voice, "I brought you some Curatio Draught." She pulled a vial out of her cloak and held it out.

"Mother, please!" Draco hissed, lowering his voice as well, and pushing her hand down onto the table to cover the vial with his hand atop of hers. "You can't be so indiscrete about these things," he said, looking at her intently.

"Don't be silly. Just take it. It will do you some good," she said, pushing their hands towards him.

"How am I to know it's not a Calming Draught you are slipping me again, Mother?" he asked, eyeing his mother, though a smirk was pulling across his face.

"Is it wrong for a mother to want her son not to be stressing himself ill?" Narcissa asked, placing her free hand over her heart in a very innocent and blameless way. Draco released his mother's hand with a sigh, falling backward against his chair.

"Just pass me the Curatio Draught," he said, holding out his hand. Narcissa smiled and placed the small bottle in his palm. Draco uncapped it and downed a gulp of the foul potion without question. He trusted his mother not to poison him, though he could not trust her to give him exactly what she claimed. He was either going to be in a whole lot less pain, or be too calm to care about it or get mad at her for lying.

"I couldn't imagine what you needed so badly that you would owl me in the middle of the day, sweetheart. I was with Clarissa, and I was planning on seeing you later, wasn't I? I had to leave her with your cousin," his mother continued on, as Draco sniffed at the vial he held in his hands and made a face. It smelled awful and tasted even worse.

"I needed to ask you…and not in front of Clarissa…" he said, taking another gulp, "what other Death Eaters," he said, dropping his voice while saying that, "are out of Azkaban?" His mother's reaction to the question was the one he had expected: surprise and shock.

"Draco, why would you ask me this…?"

"I just need to know who is outside and free to, I don't know, do as they like," he said.

"I don't think any of us after getting out of that God-awful place can do as we like, Draco," Narcissa stated flatly, having spent three years in Azkaban herself. She had been "lucky" and Draco scoffed at that. Lucky would have been not having gone at all.

"True, I just want to know who has been let out," he said. Narcissa looked at Draco for a moment, considering him carefully, her pale eyes searching his face to betray him, but it didn't. His thin and pointed face was as blank of a mask as any other time he was being careful. Looking away, she sighed. She hated that he felt he had to be careful around her.

"Well, I'm not sure, I would have to ask around, but we both know Blaise Zabini was just released," she said, and Draco nodded. "Pansy Parkinson got out the same year you did," she continued, and Draco grimaced. He had run into her more than once. "Vincent Crabbe was released, Merlin, eight months ago?" she said, thinking hard on that while trying to recall the exact amount of time. "And I believe there are a few others, but I'm not sure. None of the true Death Eaters are out. They have lifetime stints in Azkaban, or..."

"Or they're dead," Draco finished for her, his voice deceptively indifferent, almost sounding harsh because of it. Narcissa nodded and sniffed, not about to allow herself to weep in public.

"Right," she whispered. "Why do you ask?" she inquired, knowing her son had never wanted anything to do with Death Eaters before, and doubting he would have a sudden change of heart now, so many years later.

"No real reason. Just looking for some familiar faces is all," he said with a shrug, taking another gulp from the vial and making a face. His complete ambiguousness gave him away entirely to his mother. Most wouldn't have known him well enough to recognize it, but his total blankness, his air of indifference, was not like him. Not when talking to her. She knew something was up.

She did not believe him when he said it was nothing, but she did not press the matter. She knew he would not tell her anything he did not want to, and pushing him never made him want to do anything.

"You be careful, Angel," she warned warmly, reaching across the table and grabbing her son's hand firmly in hers. Draco smiled at her.

"Always."

-----------------------

Reamann hurried down the steps of the Ministry two at a time and jogged down the corridor. "Lumos," he whispered once it got darker. He avoided a cold puddle on the floor, but stumbled over some uneven ground. Hurrying, he retraced his way back to the Hall of Records deep below the Ministry of Magic.

Pushing open the great, heavy door, he entered the vast room to find an old man standing there, looking surprised to see he had a visitor, especially one that was so sweaty and short of breath.

"Can I help you, sir?" Coderdale asked, still unsure what to make of his guest.

"I'm…I'm looking for…Draco Malfoy," he panted, "Nox"-ing his wand and tucking it away in the pocket of his robes.

"How do you know…?"

"Please, I need to speak with him," Reamann said, sounding as polite as he could while stressing his urgency.

"I'm afraid he has already left for the day," Coderdale said, frowning at the young wizard deeply.

"Already? But…" he said, smoothing his hair down with his hand. "This is important," he said, taking a deep breath.

"You will have to come back tomorrow if you wish to speak to him," Coderdale said, not feeling too helpful, and not really wanting to. Who was this man that was looking for Draco?

"Alright, yes. Alright. I can stop by tomorrow -early­­- to see him," he said, his breath even again, his tone clearly annoyed.

Without a word, he turned around and headed back the long way up to the more hospitable parts of the Ministry.

Why had he run all the way down there to speak to Draco Malfoy?

Was it because he was a Death Eater?

If Draco Malfoy were behind the attacks he wouldn't have admitted it if asked bluntly, and if he knew who was, surely he wouldn't have turned them over just like that.

So why run?

To see if it was true: was it really Draco Malfoy?

Reamann got back to his office and packed. He would head home to read case files and all the books Draco had found for him. He would write up his report and try and get a nap in before dawn. He needed to see Draco Malfoy early before his meeting with the Aurors.

He was still, however, unsure of the importance of meeting with the Death Eater, he just knew he needed to.

------------------

Ginny Weasley was in Diagon Alley, doing a bit of early holiday shopping, enjoying the weather, and looking forward to supper at the Burrow where she would get to see a good portion of her family. She saw most of her family often, and those she couldn't, she kept in touch with, but it was a rare occasion that they all got together. Her family had always been large, but it had since grown even larger. It was difficult, and near impossible, to get everyone in the Burrow for Christmas. Family, wives, and grandchildren all fighting for space, it was a feat; never mind the food and preparation it entailed.

To try and make things easier on everyone, and her mother in particular, they had several smaller family dinners throughout December, so that everyone still got to see each other.

It was a bright Wednesday afternoon, and Ginny would have typically been working at that time of day, but she had the day off. Mandatory. She was getting too many hours in and the Ministry was not about to pay her overtime.

Ginny looked in the window of Flourish & Blotts and smiled. She still needed to shop for Hermione, and that girl could get a book every year for Christmas and still be happy. Entering to the jingle of the shop bell, she unwound her scarf from her neck and looked around, taking in the deep smell of parchment and leather.

She loved winter, and the smell of books was so pleasant, but she would never admit that last thought to anyone, except maybe Hermione, since she would be the only one who wouldn't give her a hard time about it. Parchment just had a dryness and crispness to its warm smell and she just could not imagine how one wouldn't enjoy it.

Walking in, she smiled as people passed, and nodded to those that greeted her. She was a bit of a celebrity, many were because of the war. Being the ex-Mrs. Harry Potter seemed to be her claim to fame, so many forgetting what she had done when she was only sixteen. She supposed being the former Mrs. Potter was better in the end as she was able to walk around more freely than Harry, Hermione, or Ron could. She still had her envious fans, but few had to stop her and shake her hand repeatedly, graciously thanking her for all she had done.

"You be careful, Angel." A woman's voice drifted over to her in the quiet shop.

"Always," a man answered. Ginny rounded a bookshelf in time to lay eyes on who had spoken. A woman and a man sat at one of the many tables scattered about between the shelves. The man drew his hand away from the woman and locked eyes with Ginny.

Recognition was instantaneous for them both and they became utterly still for a brief moment, their breath caught in their respective throats.

"Mr. Potter," Voldemort laughed, assured in his victory, a smile pulling at his distorted features awkwardly, "watch, watch as all hope for the future dies…dies," he whispered harshly into Harry's face as he leaned over Harry's shoulder. Harry was magically bound and unable to move, unable to help his friends as he watched them fall right into a trap.

"You deceitful BASTARD!" Harry spat, trying to wrench himself free, but unable to do so. Voldemort laughed because he knew it was not him that Harry was talking to.

Draco stood off to the right, hugging himself, watching the distant scene in the hollow below them and standing beside the trap he was about to spring upon the Dark Lord's order.

"I TRUSTED you! I thought you had changed; been a decent human being for once in your worthless, pathetic life! You made me believe you were fighting with us, and then you led me to think that you were fighting for yourself only, but certainly not for him…but you were! You were working for him all along!" he shouted and Draco's eyes darkened, chin drooping slightly.

"Ah, yes," Voldemort said, speaking on behalf of Draco, "A decent human being..." he said, smiling. "Draco is no `human being' though, now is he?" Voldemort laughed, smacking Harry across the face lightly. Draco's head fell at Voldemort's words and he pressed his lips together.

"Draco, do it," Voldemort commanded, his snake-like face grey and wet-looking, his slanted eyes burning red. His nose was but slits in the center of his face, by far above all else removing any discernible human quality from it.

Who was he to disparage Draco for not being human?

"Release me and fight me like a man, you coward!" Harry shouted, struggling, unable to break the binding curse that held him, but not for a lack of trying.

"A coward? Me, a coward? You are merely a boy and one I have no fear of. I could have killed you just now, but instead you live. You live only because I have allowed you to. Remember that, Potter, while you watch your friends die. Your death will be soon enough, but before that time I want you to understand that your continued existence, however brief, is because I allowed it," Voldemort spat, spittle clinging to Harry's face from his hissing words.

"You're helping him," Harry yelled at Draco as he focused intently on the task he had been set to. "You are helping him kill innocent people! You will stand by, and let him kill me, like you allowed Snape to kill Dumbledore?" Harry shouted, anger boiling his blood. Draco could not look up from his work, his eyes would betray him, and reveal his hurt at Harry's words.

"This is not what I wanted; I did not mean for things to happen like this, or for it to go this far…" Draco whispered into Harry's mind, using his hard earned Legilimency. Harry's eyes narrowed and he shot back every foul, harsh, and crude thing he could think of back at Malfoy. He was not successfully trained in Occlumency or Legilimency like Draco had been, but he knew Draco would get the message loud and clear.

Draco looked over at Harry with hollow eyes, and then focused once again on his task before Voldemort became aware of their exchange.

"Now, Draco, let's end this." Voldemort laughed, opening his arms wide. "Mr. Potter, if you would be so kind as to direct your attention to your far left and the hollow below, you will see your pathetic little friends on their way to save you…visible despite their efforts, because of my spells," he laughed.

A magical fog was seeping across the snowy ground below, allowing the people there to be seen from above, while being totally unaware of their exposure themselves. "Now, please observe my lovely little catapult Draco has so kindly set up for me," Voldemort announced mockingly, his joy oozing from him in a way only a sociopath could manage. "Once they are within range, this will launch these devastating little balls," Voldemort explained. "Such potent potion mixtures they contain, that upon impact, they will shatter and mix, and the effects will be somewhat…destructive," he hissed. "Your friends will have moments of pure agony to ponder what has happened, before they die." He laughed, high, cold, and harsh.

"Simple curses and spells won't work, oh no, your friends are clever enough to protect themselves from that, but they would not think, Potter, think to protect themselves from projectiles," he cackled, and Harry felt his stomach drop out. It was true. Everyone was prepared to deflect charms, curses, and hexes, but no one had thought about physical objects.

Draco stood beside the small wooden contraption he had set up and hugged himself, unable to look at Harry, unable to look at the people approaching the castle below. He looked down at the ground to his left.

Voldemort swept over to Harry and wrapped himself around him again, his front to Harry's back, holding Harry's chin tightly in his grasp and forcing Harry to watch his friends.

"Watch with me, Harry. Watch with me as the last of the Order of Phoenix are destroyed, and all hope is lost," he whispered into his ear, his breath cold against Harry's bruised face.

There were other Death Eaters there with them. Three to be exact. Theodore Nott, a Slytherin from Draco and Harry's year, stood vigilant over the scene. He was still stringy and thin, but imposing with the sword at his side, his hand resting on it gently, ready, waiting. Alecto, a squat and lumpy woman who Harry had first met in the initial assault on the Ministry of Magic back in his fifth year, and Yaxley, an enormous blond Death Eater.

"Watch, Harry," Voldemort said, backing up from him to stand slightly to the right, so he was between the catapult and Harry, overlooking the scene below them all, the best view of anyone to watch the sight.

"They are in range now," Alecto said, her voice firm. She was standing near the edge, leaning over it just slightly. Theodore and Yaxley were on the other side of the contraption, near Draco, ready and waiting, for anything.

"Do it, Draco," Voldemort commanded and Draco squatted down.

"NO!" Harry shouted, wanting nothing more than to have his wand back in his hand. Then Voldemort would be at his mercy.

Draco released the switch on the catapult and it swept in a great arch, flinging the contents of its basket over the low-edged wall of the rooftop, towards the people below. Voldemort leaned forward, excited and waiting for the chaos to ensue. Draco stood slowly, watching too with baited breath, as the potions he himself had brewed for the Dark Lord now hurtled towards the people below.

"Watch…watch, Harry," Voldemort recited over and over, excitement building for him as the people below froze upon seeing the tiny items descending on them. "Let them try and shoot them out of the air. Should the glass break for any reason and the contents mix…" he breathed, excited.

There was a flash and various shouts from below, Voldemort looking like he would drool on himself if made to wait any longer to see the devastation.

The flash faded and the people below were left squatting, hands over their heads protectively. There were no shouts of agony, no screams of terror. A gentle shower of flowers fell on them, drifting delicately in the cold air to fall atop the snow around them. Harry was left frozen, motionless in surprise. Voldemort's snake-like red eyes contracted into slits as he rounded on Draco.

"MALFOY!" he shouted, rage making his body literally quiver.

"Finite Incantatem!" Draco shouted, pointing his wand at Harry and releasing him from the binding spell. Harry stumbled backwards, now balancing on his own weight, and Voldemort turned his attention and went for his own wand. Draco did not hesitate.

"Harry!" he shouted, tossing him his wand, Harry's having been confiscated by Voldemort.

Harry caught Draco's wand in his right hand and turned it on Voldemort immediately, blocking the curse that had been sent at him as they began a familiar duel. He had no time to thank Draco, or even ponder what his actions had meant. Was Draco on his side, or was he still standing alone against the world? He couldn't spare the thought at the moment, as Voldemort had just sent another curse at him.

Draco turned upon sensing the movement at his back. Nott, Yaxley, and Alecto were there, bearing down on him slowly.

"Clever little Draco, brewing the wrong potion. All the good it did you, all you have managed to do so far is disarm yourself for us," Nott said, sounding amused, though his eyes were harsh.

Draco narrowed his fierce silver ones at him, and stood tall and proud.

"Go, head them off before they can reach us, and warn the others," Nott said to the two older Death Eaters at his back. They did not argue, they left the Dark Lord to his Harry Potter and Nott to his childhood friend. Draco backed up and Nott moved forward.

"Theodore," he tried.

"You cast your lot in with them, Draco? You disappoint me," Nott said, he and Draco both the eldest sons of Death Eaters.

"Clearly you do not see the foolery it is to remain faithful to a leader that would kill you just as soon as look at you," Draco said, backing up more, very honestly unarmed at that moment. "He does not serve his people like a leader should; he controls them with violence and fear. No one serves an oppressive dictator willingly."

"You think I serve the Dark Lord out of fear?" Nott laughed.

"There was a time I too thought my desire was to serve him…" Draco said, backing up still.

"A fool you were, a werewolf you are now. I can't say you have improved much…you're still as pathetic as ever," Nott said harshly, drawing his sword slowly with a drawn-out hiss of metal on metal. Draco looked at his childhood friend, a boy he had as a guest countless times in his home, a boy who he had shared deep secrets and desires with, a boy that looked prepared to kill him and likely enjoy it.

"You do not know me, Nott, and I clearly never knew you," he said, backing up still, though staying tall.

"Oh, stop sounding so bloody wounded, Draco. Honestly, it's pathetic!" Nott said, lunging at him. Draco dodged the sword and rolled so that he came to stand beside the wall. He did not think or hesitate, he grabbed one of the swords that hung there on the stone and used it to glance another lunge of Nott's away.

"I have always been the better fencer, Malfoy," Nott said, standing straight and holding his sword up to his face vertically, in a salute.

"No better time to prove it then," Draco retorted, saluting back before engaging in a very real sword fight.

While entertaining Nott at his home, they had fenced many times, always with tipped swords, always with masks and Kevlar. Now they were fencing for real, and Draco could not afford Nott to get the better of him. There would not be a "best-two-out-of-three" this time.

As the sounds of Harry and Voldemort's battle raged on, Draco was on the defensive. Nott attacked aggressively again and again, not allowing Draco the opportunity to counter. Distant sounds of fighting below met their ears and Draco knew that the Order had reached them, and it was only a matter of time before they got up to the rooftop. He wanted to dare a glance over at Harry to see how he was doing with his wand, but he could not afford to. Nott was on him and Draco had only just managed to dodge another close call.

"You cannot beat me, Draco," Nott laughed, stopping to hold his arms out mockingly, allowing himself to be an open target for a moment. Draco narrowed his eyes.

"There is a lot you don't know about me, Nott," Draco said calmly, picking himself up off the floor where Nott had knocked him.

"Oh, not this again…" he said, rolling his head and eyes. "It's true; I did not realize what a disgraceful and worthless failure you are," he said, pointing his sword at Draco confidently.

"No," Draco said, straightening. "I'm not right-handed," he said, tossing his sword into his left hand and then suddenly going on the attack, forcing Nott to back up and defend himself for the first time in the entire duel.

The sounds from below were drawing closer and Draco had a distinct flashback to the night Dumbledore had died, the fighting slowly working its way up to him on that rooftop. Dumbledore had died only minutes after that…Draco did not let himself get distracted by such thoughts and memories at the moment, though. He could not afford to. The sounds and shouts from Harry's and Voldemort's duel was distraction enough, even without the random deflected curse and spell shooting past.

Draco lunged at Nott but was not successful. Nott rolled and turned and caught Draco's upper left arm, slicing it.

"Ahh!" Draco shouted in pain, fighting not to hold his wound, needing his hand free to fight.

"Give up, Draco."

"I would rather die!" Draco shouted back at him, attacking once more.

He would not die groveling, he would not die after forfeiting, and he would not die a coward.

He was not pathetic!

There was a loud bang from below, causing a tremor to run through the castle and Draco was thrown off balance. Nott was too, but he was able to utilize it more to his advantage. As Draco stumbled backwards, Nott stumbled forwards, and used the opportunity to lunge his sword at Draco and run him through.

Draco's eyes grew wide as Nott sheathed his sword into him, and gasped as it pierced through the back of him.

Nott smiled in a satisfied way that did not suggest he had just killed his childhood friend.

Draco's mouth opened and closed a few times as though he was trying to speak or breathe. Nott tore the sword backwards out of him, and Draco finally let out a scream, falling to his knees and dropping his sword with a clatter.

"I told you, Draco, you cannot beat me," he said, staring down at him. Draco took a deep shuddering breath and shook from head to toe as blood began to flow over his hands and onto his legs.

The door at Draco's back burst open with a bang and a shower of sparks. A red jet of hot light shot over Draco's head, hitting Nott square in the chest and sending him backwards, way backwards, so that the backs of his knees hit the low wall and sent him toppling over the edge, where he fell the long distance to the ground with a scream.

Draco was unable to look up, but he knew who had come to his rescue when she knelt before him.

"Draco!" she said, her fiery red hair falling around her as she leaned toward him, looking into his face, panic clear on hers.

"Weasley?" he managed, confused and slow, thinking past the pain.

"Oh, you're hurt…we have to get you out of here, where is Harry, oh God…" she said, looking over to see Harry still dueling Voldemort.

"No," Draco said.

"What?"

"You cannot…touch my blood," he said, leaning back away from her while clutching his stomach protectively, nearly causing himself to fall over backwards as to prevent her from coming in contact with his tainted blood.

"Draco," she said, trying to reach for him, but he hit her hand away with what little force he could manage at the moment.

"Please, I would not punish you in this way for helping me. Please, stay back," he gasped, finally falling over to curl up in a ball on the rooftop, lying in a pool of his own blood. Ginny knew what he was, and knew she could not touch him. What could she do?

Draco lay there, Ginny leaning over him while muttering the charms she had been taught for an emergency such as this, trying to slow his bleeding.

She had saved his life…but for how long would he cling to that life?

Draco and Ginny locked eyes and held the gaze for a long moment, both remembering that night from their own distinct point of view.

Ginny remembered the long trek to the castle through the snowy hollows while apart from the main group. She had seen the shower of flowers from a distance, while sneaking in a hidden entrance she had been shown a day earlier by Draco. She remembered dueling with the Death Eaters upon entering the dark and ghastly castle all by herself, before being joined by the others and escaping upstairs. She remembered murdering Nott.

She had rescued Draco, killed for him. They would always have some sort of bond because of that.

It was unspoken, but it was there.

"Draco?" Narcissa asked, looking between them.

"Hello, Draco," Ginny said, sounding breathless, remembering what she had done to save him with a plunging tightness in her stomach. She chased those thoughts and feelings away the best she could, telling herself for the thousandth time since that night that she had done what she had to save lives, including her own.

She took in Draco's appearance now that she was no longer swallowed in her memories, but still gripped by guilt. He was thin and pale, made all the more ghostly by his dark clothing and surroundings, and he was tired looking. His white hair cascaded down his curved spine as he leaned over the table slightly in poor posture. He had surely not learned from his mother who sat perfectly upright across from him.

"Hello," Draco muttered back, looking Ginny over quickly, seeing her for the first time since he had been forcibly removed from that rooftop by the Aurors and Hermione Granger.

Ginny had changed so much, but was still instantly recognizable. Her hair was, as always, long and fiery red. It flowed in gentle waves and layers over her shoulders and down her back. She had been an attractive girl with her rich honey-brown eyes, milky skin, a light dusting of freckles, and bright grin, but now…now she looked like a woman. She had grown up while he had been away and she had curves from what he could tell through her winter robes.

Draco blushed and looked away at the realization that he was checking her out, and wondering what she looked like when she wasn't bundled up against the cold.

He was not eyeing a Weasley. Better that it was the female Weasley he supposed, but not by much in his opinion. He was sure his mother shared that opinion.

"I did not realize you were out of Azkaban," she said softly, not noticing his blush.

"Well, now you know," he said, still not looking at her.

"How long have you been out?" she asked, still standing in the middle of the shelves, luckily in no one's way.

"Three years," he said quietly.

"Oh, wow, I had no idea it had been that long," she said.

"After ten years in Azkaban, three years out is not what I would call `long,'" he said, not meaning to snap at her but unable to override his natural defenses.

"Right," she muttered, nodding. "Hello Mrs. Malfoy," Ginny said, inclining her head towards the woman.

"Hello," she said simply. She did feel she owed a lot to the young woman for saving her son's life, but she could not overlook the fact that she had married Harry Potter, the lying scum that had locked her baby away for a decade.

"Am, am I interrupting something?" she asked, noticing the potion vial that sat between them, Narcissa's hand not so subtly easing over it and drawing it off the table, disappearing into her robes.

"No, no," Draco said, standing at that. "I was actually just excusing myself," he said, leaning over the table to leave a kiss on his mother's cheek. "I will see you tonight at home," he said and she nodded.

"Tonight," she said.

Ginny looked away. Though she was witnessing nothing obscene, somehow seeing Draco and his mother together in such an honestly tender way made her feel uncomfortable, like their affection was something private no one should ever witness.

While looking away, her eyes landed on the shelf beside her and they immediately fell on a book she knew Hermione had mentioned while dropping "hints" of what she wanted for Christmas.

"Look at that," she said, plucking the book off the shelf, surprised and pleased by the coincidence. "Well," she said, looking back over at Draco as he leaned on his cane and straightened. "I'll just have this rung up and be on my way," she said, happy for an excuse to leave, herself. "It was unexpected, but nice to see you, Draco," she said, smiling at him.

"Yes, well, it is always nice to be seen," he replied, returning an awkward and unsure smile.

Ginny nodded and walked off at a hurried pace towards the front to purchase her book, and without having it wrapped she bagged it and left.

Once outside, she took a deep breath of cold air and let it out slowly.

Guilt had been eating at her for years. Draco had saved her life, and she had saved his, but by ending someone else's. She knew he was innocent and shouldn't have been sent to Azkaban, but she had been unable to do anything about that. She, along with Harry, had been swept up and carried off in the chaos that had ensued upon the fall of the Dark Lord, and subsequently, the Aurors showing up with Hermione leading them. She had not known what had become of him until later…too late.

Seeing him out now, it felt like some sort of weight had been lifted off her chest that she had not actually realized was there. Her actions had not been in vain. She could breathe better knowing that some good had come of her efforts that dark night.

Ginny took another deep breath, and then another, her eyes closed, letting herself wind down from the encounter inside.

"Trying to inhale the snowflakes from the air, Weasley?" Draco asked, his voice suddenly behind her.

Ginny let out a yelp and turned around so suddenly that her scarf nearly fell off having not been properly wound around her neck yet.

"Malfoy!" she gasped. Draco was standing behind her, looking collected and at ease while leaning on his cane.

"You know, if you are not careful, you face will get stuck that way," he said, smiling the way he always had back in school. It was that same self-assured smirk, edged with amusement, which he had always shown.

"What are you doing?" she asked, adjusting her scarf, her eyes still a little wide.

"Attempting to leave, but finding that difficult with you blocking the way," he said smoothly, that bored but still slightly amused drawl that matched his smirk rolling out of him. It was almost as though thirteen years had never happened and they were in one of the corridors at Hogwarts, only this time his bullying was far less adolescent and harsh.

"Oh…oh," she said, looking around and realizing she really was blocking the doorway, having barely taken two steps out of the shop before stopping.

"Thank you," he said as Ginny moved aside to let him pass. Though his limp was considerably lessoned, he still leaned heavily on his cane as he walked.

"You alright?" she asked, before thinking better of it. Seeing someone limp and wondering if there was something wrong or anything she could do to help was habit. It was only after she said it that she remembered it was Draco Malfoy she was talking to.

"You concerned?" he asked, amusement more than just an undertone in his voice then.

"I'm sorry. I did not mean to be nosey. I just noticed the limp and I asked without thinking. You don't have to answer," she said.

"A Weasley, not thinking…a novel concept," he teased and she narrowed her eyes at him slightly, fighting not to put her hands on her hips and scowl in a Mrs. Weasley fashion. "I'm quite alright," he said flatly, turning and walking down the snowy lane. Ginny watched him go slowly before looking around and groaning. He had just gone the direction she needed to go. Would he get the wrong impression if she followed after him? She certainly hoped not, because she was about to.

Ginny started after Draco, and given his slow walk she managed to catch up with him quickly.

"Following me now, Weasley?" he asked, not having to look over his shoulder to know she was at his back.

"No," she said firmly, before easing back her defensive tone a bit. "I mean, no, I'm just heading towards the Owl Emporium," she said, intending on getting one of her nephews a new owl since poor little Pigwidgeon had passed away.

"Are you now?" Draco asked, laughing.

"Is that funny?" she asked, quickening her pace so she was walking beside him.

"Funny, only that it happens to be where I myself am heading," he said, not looking over at her.

"Oh."

"You really did not know I was out?" he asked, continuing their awkward conversation from inside.

"No, no I had no idea."

"You married Harry Potter and you were completely unaware that I was out? I have seen Harry about, he never mentioned me? I'm hurt," Draco said, pretending to be upset.

"Actually, Harry and I are divorced," Ginny said, getting Draco to look over at her finally. He had not known that, somehow. "And, well, I don't read those terrible gossip publications and such, so I can't say I have read anything about you," she said, clearly not having heard of the "altercation" he had had with Harry two nights before.

"Well, all for the best I'm sure. Those stories tend to be nothing but rubbish and poppycock anyways," he said, walking slowly towards the Owlery where he would buy some food and such for his own owl.

"What are you doing for the Holidays?" she asked as they walked.

"Why? Are you propositioning me?"

"No, just attempting civil conversation," she said smoothly.

"Well," Draco began in a sarcastically putout tone, "I'll be spending the Holidays at home," he said simply.

"Malfoy Manor?" she asked. Draco laughed a flat-out open laugh that had an edge of cutting bitterness to it. She had never heard him laugh before, and though he sounded amused, he did not sound happy.

"No. My family's Estate and all our trusts were confiscated after the war as a sort of `retribution payment.' I meant `my home' as in where I am currently living," he said.

"Oh," she said.

Reaching the shop, they entered together but did not speak, acting like two customers who had just happened to enter at the same time. Ginny surveyed the owls while Draco nabbed a bag of owl pellets and some treats. Ginny did not mean to, but she could not help but look over at Draco as he paid, all in Sickles and Knuts, not a Galleon in sight. Draco seemed to notice her watching him and turned his head. She quickly busied herself looking at a Fishing owl, pretending to have never glanced over in the first place. Draco looked at her for a moment before thanking the keeper and taking his bag in his left hand, supporting himself on his cane with his right.

Turning, he limped past Ginny and lingered for a moment beside her, before leaving without a word.

What was he supposed to do? Say goodbye? Thank her? Invite her out for tea? Why? Because she had saved his life? She already knew he was thankful; she did not need him getting emotional over it. Malfoys did not do that sort of thing.

Making his way down the street, however, Draco's mind lingered on the stunning redhead.

He still owed her…and he hated being indebted to anyone.

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