Disclaimer:I own nothing but thousands of dollars of debt to the federal government - otherwise known as 'financial aid.'
Chapter 8 - The Past is Never Far
The wind was sharp as it rushed by his ears. His broom, a firebolt XP was swift, swifter than he remembered. Green landscape flew by below him, all obscured and anonymous. The escape from his reality was exactly what he sought.
It had been months since he had sat a broom for pure pleasure, months since he had sought the snitch, even in a practice. The reality of the war had banished such novelties. But, now, now there was time again for such pursuits. But Draco was not aloft for merely pleasures sake, he had sought refuse from the manor and all that it entailed. More memories than he cared to regard had been brought up this morning. All thanks to one Miss Virginia Weasley.
Letting out a small shout of frustration, Draco banished all thoughts of the young redhead from his mind. Draco ordered himself to fly… simply fly.
That he did for miles. He swept out far over the highlands that surrounded his ancestral lands, and back again. A slight mist covered the land, and he began to find peace. Draco landed on a patch of green grass some hundred meters from his home. He wasn't quite sure why he had landed; something inside of him had pushed him down to earth.
Draco looked up a wrought iron gate stood in front of him; it encircled a large plot of land. The grassy knoll was marked with headstones, some small and granite, others large and made from marble. It was his family's cemetery. Here lay generations of Malfoy dead, they ranged as far back as Merlin's day - or so he was told. Draco had never spent much time exploring this part of his history. He found reminiscing over those dead to be a bit too morbid for his own taste. His mother had spent quite a lot of time out here, placing small posies on graves. Narcissa had been especially fond of Lucius's mother, and took especially good care of her grave.
Draco lifted the creaky hinge of the gate and entered the graveyard. Paths wound their way around the various headstones and mausoleums. All the male Malfoys possessed magnificent memorials to their lives. A small smile of pride crossed Draco's features. Despite the atrocities his family had committed, he still retained a sense of pride for his family's longevity and power.
A smaller headstone, made out of a reddish stone caught his eye. From his vantage the stone appeared rather recent (but with his family one never could tell). It was a monument with little ornamentation; obviously a headstone for a woman. Crouching down he leaned forward to more closely examine it.
Narcissa Black Malfoy Wife of Lucius Malfoy b. 1960 Mother to Draco Malfoy b. 1986
That was all. No references to her role as a mother, her validity as a person. All she was to this family was a wife and a mother.
Draco had only been to his mother's gravesite once before, the night she had been buried. She had not arrived at her final resting place through an honorable ceremony as she deserved. Instead her 'ceremony' consisted of several house elves and Draco digging a six foot hold in the ground while a late spring shower poured over the party. Draco himself had not overseen the etching and placement of the headstone, apparently his father had made the appropriate arrangement before he left for Azkaban. Merlin only knew what his father had dreamed up for his own monument to say - that point was moot now. Memories of that night - the dirt that took him days to remove from his fingernails and the rain that ran cold down his spine - never left him and revisited him only in the depths of the night.
How ironic that fate would bring me to my mother's grave today he thought sardonically.
Draco dropped to his knees on the grass that covered the mound that was now his mother. He traced the etching of her name with a shaky finger.
She had been a good woman, perhaps a bit over protective, but as Draco grew older he understood her reasons. She had come from an equally as aristocratic family, deeply steeped in the dark arts. She was the perfect match for the Malfoy heir. Together they had produced a son to carry on that line - the spitting image of his father.
But his mother had not enjoyed fitting the mold created by her family and Lucius. She had carried on her role regally to protect her son. He recalled, as a boy, her trying to keep him home with her when Lucius wanted to take her out. He had resisted as a child, what boy wouldn't have. He had loved going out with his father, hunting, sporting, and generally romping about as a man. He now understood that his mother had been trying to keep him from turning into his father.
What Lucius first dismissed as protective mothering, he soon realized was much more. He saw the rebellion manifesting itself in his wife, and like a conquering Viking he quickly went about destroying its settlement. He had seen his mother less and less as the years went by. More and more she had sequestered herself in her rooms. Draco's mind had been filled with the words of his father and at first he hadn't noticed her disappearance.
As it turns out this is what she had feared most. Narcissa was fading away; she had given up hope of ever living the life she wanted. She was forever to be the beaten wife of Lucius Malfoy. Draco, being away at Hogwarts and receiving an obligatory letter from his parents once a month, had not been privy to the turmoil that was growing at the Manor.
Apparently, as his years of schooling passed by, Narcissa had begun an outright disavowal of her former life, despite Lucius's attempts to quell her. This information had only been made known to Draco after he had sat and had a lengthy discussion with Dumbledore at the beginning of his sixth year. How Dumbledore knew what had happened at his home he hadn't a clue, but then again Dumbledore seemed to know most everything that went on.
Narcissa had run off into the local villages and begun carrying on affairs with Muggles, just to shame both the Malfoy and the Black lines. For every one of her actions there was a much greater punishment, but it had done little to halt her. Any pain that Lucius could dole out did not hamper her disobedience. Narcissa's only concern was for her son.
During this period she had been writing letters to Draco at school that his father had confiscated. One had made it to Hogwarts during his fifth year, and had confused Draco to no end. It had been a ramble of her love for him, her worries for his safety, and it had ended with an angry remark against the Black family. He had read the letter several times never understanding why this vastly different missal had come to him. Unable to comprehend and after receiving a typical letter from his parents in another week's time; he dismissed the occurrence.
Draco now wished he hadn't let the importance of such a correspondence slip by him. It was the last time that he had had contact with his mother. He could not have known this at the time, but still the guilt ate at him.
The end of his fifth year came with the Death Eater attack at the Ministry of Magic and the arrest of his father. That was what Draco had thought at least. He had boarded the Hogwarts Express with a conflicted heart. His feelings toward his father were mixed as they always had been. Draco had always sought his approval, despite the fact that no matter his action it never seemed to be quite enough. As a child it had been devastating to him, but his mother had always been there to soften the blow.
He remembered the anger that he had experienced when Potter had remarked upon his mothers elitism during their fourth year. Superiority had always been a part of the Malfoy family. Draco understood that the tradition, education and power that his family possessed and retained, vaulted them above other families. Yet his father had always used this superiority over, inside the family and taught Draco that such actions were the only appropriate way to deal with a family. Yet his mother had not retained her haughty exterior when at the manor. She had been there early on to kiss a bruised knee away or to show him how to tie a shoe with two bunnies. That was until Lucius took note and remarked that she would 'make their son soft.' From that moment on any such influence that Narcissa could have employed was squelched.
Sadly, Draco thought, his desire to gain his father's acceptance had over shadowed the transformation of his mother's relationship with him. Draco scoffed to himself; Lucius couldn't have planned it any better. Draco had become obsessed with his father and had lost sight of his mother. Draco had noticed this development at times, but there was little an adolescent boy could do and often he didn't fully comprehend what he was seeing. For the most part his mother remained the same when they were together; it was the moment he walked away that her façade would crack.
The world that he had built up around himself, where everything would be perfect as long as he did whatever he could to please his father came crashing down around his shoulders when he arrived at station 9 and ¾. As usual Roderick was waiting for Draco when he stepped off the train. Draco wasn't sure what to expect with his father gone, but he assumed his mother had all under control and the family barrister would be working on releasing his father. Roderick had been especially grim-faced but that was to be expected.
The black Rolls that his parents used for city trips conveyed him home as usual. The house he entered was immaculate as usual, but something felt off he remembered. The house elves had scattered at his entrance, they all possessed a nervous twittered and seemed to be constantly looking over their shoulders. Draco had stopped in the middle of the grand foyer; he dropped his trunk and began a quick ascent upstairs. What began as a brisk climb became a dead run as a feeling of dread filled his soul.
Where was his mother? Not a year had gone by was she not waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs. She cherished being the first to welcome him home. She had once told him, he thought it during his first year when he had experienced small pangs of homesickness that she would always be waiting for him when he came home for holiday. She had never broken that promise and he didn't think that she would unless something were wrong… desperately wrong.
Draco reached the upstairs landing and headed for his mothers suites. Reaching the door to his mother's rooms he knocked tentatively. Receiving no response he raised his fist and harshly rapped on the door. When silenced answered him a second time Draco turned to the knob only to find it securely locked. He immediately reached for his wand, but the underage restriction flitted through his mind. Instead he braced his body and threw his shoulder into the door. After several blows the door finally gave way.
Draco entered the room holding his aching shoulder. His mother's peach hued suite was in utter disarray. Her normally impeccable rooms were turned upside down, chairs were overturned and vases shattered. Draco wadded through the remnants of his mothers sitting room. Too many thoughts to grab hold off ran through his mind. What possible reason could explain the state of her rooms and where was his mother?
The door connecting her bed chambers to the parlor say slightly ajar. Draco shouldered his way through and came to an abrupt stop.
He remembered very little of the next few hours. He recalled seeing the train to his mother's night rail strewn across the bed haphazardly. His eyes followed the sky blue material and then stopped in shock. His mother lay across her large bed, utterly still. As Draco's feet brought him closer to the bed, as if with a will of their own, he began to notice details. Her clothing was ripped as if a struggle had occurred. The shock of blood on the bed came into focus. Gods there was a lot of blood. He saw a large gash on her arm, and on her lower leg, but the majority of the blood seemed to come from her head. Somehow Draco had the presence of mind to check for her breath and a pulse. When he found none, he dropped to his knees alongside her bed.
Coming to himself Draco realized that he was still kneeling in front of his mother's headstone. He hadn't thought of the events that followed his return home that summer since they had happened. For his personal welfare he had pushed all memory of that day from his mind. He refused to remember Roderick appearing by his side and pulling him up from the ground. He only thought of the rain that poured on him as he carried his mother's body wrapped in her silk shift out to the graveyard, during nights where sleep would not claim him.Feeling a sense of calm pervade his system Draco supposed that he had never let himself say goodbye to his mother. He had bottled up whatever he felt regarding her death and moved on. That was typically Malfoy he thought sadly; he was his father's son in too many respects. He also supposed that his mother would actually be proud of his actions. He had finally proven himself to not be the man his father wanted him to be, all his mother's suffering had not gone to waste.
Draco rose up, he kissed his fingertips and laid them on the headstone in a symbol of remembrance.
Turning, Draco headed out of the small fenced graveyard. The manor loomed large in front of him. It was time to return to life… A small movement from a second story window caught his eye. Red hair… he should have known! He hadn't thought she was able to move about yet.
Draco reflected on his actions that morning as he gathered his broom. He had been harsh with her, he didn't deny it. She had touched a nerve even he didn't know was so tender. She had unknowingly set a bomb off inside him, and as much as it pained him to admit it, he had taken it out on her undeservingly. Growing up as he had, he was unused to his belongings being touched, especially such a personal item as befit his nightstand.
He sighed… an apology was due to the girl upstairs. Merlin he hated to apologize to anyone. In fact the only person he had ever actually apologized to was his father. That fact tainted his entire view on the subject. Draco felt an apology was a sign of weakness, a sign that one could not hold their own. Yet as he thought about the young Weasley who sat upstairs, he knew that an apology to her would not mean he was weak.
This thought disturbed Draco… why would this situation be any different? There was something about Ginny Weasley that disturbed Draco. She altered all the rules that regulated his behavior; she had entered his life and confused all his beliefs regarding the Weasleys. He didn't harbor any thought that he would suddenly become mates with Ron, but he couldn't despise Ginny like he did her brother.
He supposed seeing her holding the picture of his mother had solidified his instinctive reason for opening his world to her. A part of Draco associated Ginny with his mother. Seeing Ginny victimized and alone she had looked startlingly similar to the way he had found his mother. Also Ginny's marginalization by her family and all of Hogwarts reminded him of his mother and her life under Lucius Malfoy.
Ginny Weasley represented his chance to purge his guilt, to keep an innocent soul from being destroyed by the evils that men like his father and Lord Voldemort represented.
With that Draco spurred himself upstairs to meet his doom… apologizing to Ms. Weasley. Somehow he knew she would not make it easy on him.
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Ginny sat in the window seat staring out at the Malfoy lands. They were vast, representing the power that the family held. Ginny pressed her forehead to the cold windowpane.
Why was she here?
She had come to some conclusions in the time since Draco had stormed out of the room earlier that morning. Mainly she came to the conclusion that under no circumstances did she understand Draco. The man confounded her at every turn.
She also came to the conclusion that there was a reason she was not at home with her family and she was certain she would not like the reason.
Draco paused before the doors to his rooms. Should he knock? He decided against it after all they were technically his rooms. Plus he wanted to keep his 'adversary' off guard.
Lost in her thoughts Ginny was completely unaware of Draco's entrance into the room and his approach to her seat.
"I'm surprised to see you up and about already"
Ginny started at his voice. She quickly swiveled toward his voice, a tinge of pain a reminder to her injured state.
Before she had a chance to interject Draco continued on, "Well I am glad that you feel well enough to move about."
Ginny continued to stare blankly at him. What was he about she wondered.
She narrowed her eyes slightly. Was he going to simply ignore his prattish behavior from this morning? That sort of attitude frustrated her infinitely. She didn't ask that anyone be flawless, merely that they own their faults and apologize when appropriate.
Well thought Draco she doesn't seem that angry. The infamous Weasley temper that he had seen so often in Ron was not flaring up. Perhaps she hadn't been that offended by his actions. Looking more closely at her, he sensed a vibration of anger emanating from her. Apparently the temperament associated with a redhead hadn't escaped Ginny.
Draco shifted his weight. Instantly angry at himself for showing his ill comfort with the situation.
"I'm sorry to interrupt your afternoon." Ginny lifted an eyebrow at him quizzically. "I just stopped by to let you know that your actions this morning while rude, did not deserve the reaction I expressed."
Was Draco Malfoy attempting an apology to Ginny Weasley? Her mouth dropped open in surprise.
Draco narrowed her eyes at her response. How dare she mock him in such a way! It wasn't as if he had said he loved Harry Potter or anything else shocking. As Ginny continued to stare at him openmouthed he became more incensed. This was the last time he would ever apologize to the red-headed imp in front of him.
Ginny didn't know what to say. There he went again confusing the bloody hell out of her.
Draco leaned down and placed one long finger on her chin.
"Didn't your mother ever tell you that you'll catch flies in your mouth if you leave it hanging open." With that he pushed up and snapped her mouth shut.
His cool gray eyes remained locked with hers.
"Well excuse me. It's not everyday that the grand Draco Malfoy lowers himself to make concessions to the mere plebeians that surround him." Ginny cocked her head at him imitating his smirk.
Why that little… Draco narrowed his eyes. "You know I didn't have to say anything. You are a guest in my house…" He left off tilting his nose up in a sign of superiority.
"Ohhh…." Ginny fumed. She crossed her arms and sat back.
She didn't know what it was about him, but he certainly set her off. A smile flitted across her features. Merlin it had been ages since she had been able to banter with someone like this. When she was younger she had constantly argued with her siblings, but after her first year, she had lost some of her stubbornness and self assurance. The last person on earth she expected to be able to converse with in such a manner was Draco Malfoy. But, she mused, she could and she did. Perhaps it was the serious demeanor he sought to exude so often, she just felt the need to rattle it… or maybe it was the way he cared for her even though he no obligation to do so… or perhaps it was the side of him that he kept hidden, as evident with his feelings for his mother, that she so wanted to discover.
Draco noticed the smile beginning to grace her features.
"Something funny, Weasley?"
Ginny caught his eyes, her own twinkling with mischief. "Nothing… nothing but this spot of gravy you got right there" she pointed to his lapel "on your shirt."
Draco looked down. He couldn't have spilled, he never spilled. Wait he hadn't even had gravy today. But before he could think on the matter anymore Ginny had taken advantage of his distraction and the ottoman he stood in front of, to push him and cause him to tumble over onto his derriere.
Draco looked up at her from his vantage point on the ground. He was astonished.
"Wha.. Why… WEASLEY!" He sputtered at first (Merlin she had caused him to sputter!) and then roared her name.
Ginny broke out in loud raucous laugher at his response. She lent a hand down to help him up, which a disorientated Draco limply took hold of. As Ginny began to pull him up a light bulb went off in Draco's head. He jerked the hand that held Ginny quickly. She ended in a laughing pile of robes and red hair at his side.
Shockingly Draco found a smile and a chortle of laughter come from his mouth. Ginny lifted her hair from his face and smiled back at him.
"So you are human" she remarked.
Instead of getting angry Draco's smile began to deepen. "Yes, I suppose I am."
As Ginny straightened her tangled limbs and began to raise herself a shock of pain brought her to her knees again.
"Damn! I forgot all about your injuries." Draco cursed and reached down to pick her up.
"I'm fine… hands off ferret!" Ginny forcefully pushed away his approaching hands. But to her dismay, Ginny found herself unable to gain a solid footing.
Seeing her attempt Draco once again reached down. He saw her mouth open in protest "Shut up … Weaslette" Draco smirked as he deftly wrapped one arm around her back and another under her legs.
As he laid her on the plush bed Ginny stilled him placing one small pale hand on his sleeve.
"Sorry and thank you Draco."
"Whatever for?" He heard himself asking but couldn't fathom why.
"The sorry or the thank you?" Ginny responded.
Pondering for a moment Draco replied, "Both."
"I'm sorry I pushed you away when you were trying to help me up. I still… I just don't feel comfortable being touched…" She paused. "Especially by a man."
Draco cursed mentally. Damn Voldemort and damn himself for forgetting. But it was so easy when she acted so happy. He knew though, that her pain would always lurk just below the surface. Ginny Weasley it seemed was an expert in putting up a front.
"And the thank you that's for apologizing even though it goes against your every principle." Draco moved to interrupt. "You know it does so don't even try to deny it." Draco acquiesced.
"And I guess I also wanted to thank you for making me forget why I am here. I can't explain it but, whenever I am with you my life doesn't seem so desperate, my pain doesn't feel so biting and my memories fade to a point where it doesn't hurt to breathe." Ginny stopped shocked a bit at herself for saying so much.
< p>
So he inclined his head and dimmed the light on her nightstand.
Ginny acknowledged his response, it was more than she had thought he would do.
"You should get some sleep. I'll be by for dinner in a few hours." Ginny smiled. He understood and respected it.
"Thank you… again."
Draco shhh'ed her and headed to the door. As he shut the double doors he paused.
"No, Ms. Weasley you are wrong. It is I that should thank you for doing the same for me." With that he shut the paneled doors, but not before a large grin appeared on the face of Ms. Weasley herself.
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AN: Sorry for the rather rough draft of this - I am back in school so time (especially editing time) for this story had become rather short. These law professors you'd think I was there to study law or something! : )
Anyway I am working on the BETA situation and I have talked so a few if they are still interested I may be in contact soon!
Also thanks for all the wonderful reviews! I couldn't keep writing this if it weren't for you guys! Thanks again (except for those occassional mean ones - bastards!)