Author's Notes: Thank you to all who left such wonderful reviews last time. Now, onward with more of our story... - fallenwitch
Chapter 5
Shhh…Draco
His boots slipped on the slick cave floor, wet with trickling ice water as he hurried. The jagged rocks cut his hands and knees when he stumbled and fell, ripping his robes as he pushed himself upright and forward again. The frigid air seared his lungs as his weakened body fought to extract what oxygen remained in the increasingly stale cavern air.
The adrenalin pumping through his body protected the Slytherin from conscious awareness of his injuries. It also heightened his ability to focus on reaching his ultimate goal, the dim lights in the distance.
Flashes of light spewed from his wand, leading his way down the treacherously narrow path with precipitous dropping edges. He stopped to catch his breath and inadvertently looked down into the bottomless groaning abyss on either side of his boots. Shit. He closed his dizzy eyes for a moment to restart his worthless heartbeat and regain his suddenly tenuous balance before starting out again.
Rushing forward, he leapt over a precarious tear in the path to safety on the opposite side and broke into an all out run, now on firm ground with no danger of falling off into nothingness. All he could hear was the pounding of his boots on the compacted rock and the rhythmic pumping of his heart in his ears.
Three figures came into focus. What the hell was she doing? Was she out of her ever-loving mind?
Draco's skilled hand had his wand firmly planted on its target. There was no wavering. Closer. He needed to get closer. What the hell was wrong with his goddamn uncooperative body? What he didn't realize was that he was flying toward the scene with unbelievable speed. And he was so focused on his intended target that he never saw the wizard coming from his left.
The curse erupted from the end of his wand, swift, sure and malignant. Then his trusted wand exploded, sending the entire cavern into a raging ball of fire, imploding the whole bloody mess in on itself, until everything and everyone was covered in the stillness of death.
Draco woke up gasping for breath. He looked around his suffocating excuse for a room, frantic, until he realized he was safe and sound in his own flat. Throwing off the clinging bedcovers, he ran to the nearest window and flung it open. The frigid winter air rushed into his spastic lungs, giving him the illusion of breathing. He was sweating and tense. His heart was beating so fast he thought it would explode, ending his life right then and there.
"Draco?" He startled and spun around, eyes wide and dilated, ready to strike out. "What's wrong?" Ginny was standing next to him, dressed in his flannel nightshirt, yawning and wrapping her arms around his still trembling body, her sleepy head on his chest.
He sighed, "Nothing's wrong, Ginny."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure."
She nodded and released him. "Merlin, Draco, you're shivering cold." With one firm tug, she pulled his window closed. "Come back to bed." He reluctantly followed her back to the hellish torture chamber and climbed inside beside her. She snuggled up close to him.
Draco laid there, burning up and claustrophobic but unable to move. Many slow deep breaths later, his heart rate dropped, his tense muscles relaxed and his overheated, adrenalin filled body slowed down. He rolled over and away from Ginny, pulled up the bedcovers and closed his war-weary eyes.
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"Draco?"
She sighed and sat down next to the Slytherin in the small booth at the Muggle pub. "What in the world are you doing here? I've been looking all over for you."
He glanced at her before turning back to his particular mix of Muggle toxins. When she refused the offer of his drink, he downed the entire half glass in one swift gulp. Then he put a hand to his forehead and closed his eyes, shutting out the intrusive world.
But she had her arm around his shoulder and her gentle lips on his cheek, easing his turmoil. Ginny took the empty tumbler out of his hand and set it down on the wooden table. Then she put both his hands in hers. "Come on, Draco. Let's go home."
He opened his pale grey eyes and stared at her, still wordless. Why was it that when he was drunk, he always took to staring at her? No, he didn't protest or resist when she led him out of the dimly lit pub, down the crowded pavement, around the corner and into that darkened alleyway. He patiently waited while she took out her wand and Disapparated them home.
When his boots hit the floor of his flat, he walked into his room and closed the door. What the hell was he doing? Was he goddamn insane? He stumbled into the bathroom and looked at his flushed and tired face in the mirror. It looked back. Then he saw her hairbrush and her toothbrush and her drawer full of personal items. He closed his eyes, held his stomach and leaned over the sink, fearing he might be sick.
A scant four months had passed since Ginny accidentally Apparated into Draco's flat. When she did, he had neither the will nor the heart to deny her what she wanted and what he needed. She dangerously incapacitated him, until all rational thought and appropriate safeguards fell to the wayside in his endless pursuit of her.
When he adjusted his wards for her, he never imagined she would attempt to Apparate in on her own. If he managed to drag her home in a drunken stupor once, it wasn't inconceivable that he could do it again. She needed to be able to Disapparate, if required.
No, he wasn't made out of stone. He was made of the same blood and guts as the next wizard. It was his fatally weakened heart that refused to let go. And so she stayed until she filled up his life and his flat with her presence - clothes in the closet, books in his study, and a forgotten jacket over the back of his sofa. He was drowning, goddamn drowning in her singularly splendid presence until he couldn't think or breathe or see clearly, until every precaution he had ever taken became a joke. They had tumbled over that spectacular edge together, falling into the one place he never should have gone or seen or even known existed.
She knew every damn thing about him. As much as he tried to hide from her, he was utterly naked and exposed and vulnerable in everyway that counted. If she were to so much as breathe on him the wrong way, he would expire in her arms.
"Draco?" She was knocking on his bedroom door. "Are you alright?"
He sighed and opened the door, walking out dressed in a loose pair of pyjama bottoms and raking a tired hand through his platinum locks. "I'm fine, Ginny."
She stepped aside to let him pass, her worried eyes following his figure until it collapsed on the sofa in front of her. "What's wrong, Draco?"
He shook his head and held out his arms for her. "Nothing's wrong." When he took her into his arms and held her gorgeous figure to his, nothing was wrong. Her magical fingers were running through his tousled hair, her breath was hot on his forehead.
"Draco... " This time it was his finger on her lips, silencing her endless exploration of his internal world.
"Shhh…Ginny. Not tonight." He heard her sigh. That was before he pulled her flush against him and kissed her, pouring out his tortured heart to her until he thought it would explode. Then he dropped one kiss after another down her creamy, cinnamon sprinkled throat to the top button of her blouse, stopping right there.
He stared at that miserable button until she finally unbuttoned it for him and the next one and the next one until her shirt went tumbling to the wayside. And before he could blink, her bra was on the floor as well. Her hands were around his face, urging him on. He was too damn drunk to be doing this, and she knew it. She knew he never touched her when he was intoxicated.
When she brought her perfectly pink nipple to his mouth and let out that almost inaudible moan of hers, he was lost. Lost in a way he never wanted to be found. He wanted to fucking expire right then and there and never know another day of misery.
"Ginny," he croaked, wrapping his arms around her and laying his drunk and suffering head on her breasts. She was soothing his world with her touch.
"Shhh…Draco, it's alright." Then she was straddling his lap and gathering the Slytherin into her reassuring arms. "I know, Draco. I know." He shook his head, about to speak, but she silenced him with her tender lips on his and her reassuring hands around his neck. "I know you love me, Draco," she whispered, her breath warm on his lips, her still hands on him. "I know you've always loved me."
Draco collapsed in her arms, clutching his aching heart and his twice broken soul. She was his heart and his soul and his whole goddamn world. He belonged to her like a fucking piece of property. It was this way back then, and it would always be this way between them.
When Ginny took her Slytherin and laid down with him between the sheets that night, his breathing was erratic and his heart raced. She comforted him with her powerful presence, her gentle touch and her simple words of endearment whispered over and over again until his body went still and peaceful in her arms. Ginny hung on, not moving from his side until the piercing light of day crept into their room, signalling the end of night.
Author's Notes: Thanks for reading. - fallenwitch
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