The Slytherin's Witch by fallenwitch

Rating: R
Genres: Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 6
Published: 14/03/2007
Last Updated: 13/11/2007
Status: Completed

COMPLETED! One heartbroken witch, one Death Eater wizard, a dash of Firewhiskey and a Muggle pub
all add up to a dark and twisted romance with buckets of angst and a shot of humor. “Be careful,
Gin. Not only is he a little unbalanced, but he’s also got the worst of the wizarding world out to
kill him. Call me if you need me.”




1. An Unbelievable, Unmitigated Disaster
----------------------------------------



**Author's Notes:** *The Slytherin's Witch* is my beloved orphan fic that I have
revised and rewritten and am in the process of completing. I would like to extend my gratitude to
all the wonderful readers who supported this story its first time around. Many thanks to Marcia, my
beta, who encouraged the idea of resurrecting and completing TSW, and without whom, a delightful
task would have turned onerous. Last but not least, much appreciation to Black Alnair, whose love
of this fic and enthusiasm pushed me to revive it.

**Chapter 1**

**An Unbelievable, Unmitigated Disaster**

Is that all her heart was to him? A piece of filth to be brushed aside? If she hadn't been
completely stunned into inaction, she would have had the business end of her wand in his arrogant
face, demonic hex at the ready. As it was, it was all the Gryffindor could do to scrape up what was
left of that previously beating organ of hers and walk bravely out of the room, without looking
back, ever. To hell with him, she thought, still reeling from the blow.

A day later as Ginny Weasley wandered around the Quidditch stadium and past the lake on her way
to the castle, she reviewed a certain series of events in her head. It was his fault. He had
pursued her. She never once thought of approaching him, not until he accosted her after the
Gryffindor/Slytherin match in mid-November. Why would she think of that vile, irritating, pompous,
conceited git of a Slytherin in any way other than the Weasley way, with disgust and a touch of
pity for his pathetic self?

Oh, she remembered how he nearly fell over himself, running after her and trying to engage her
in some sort of pathetic excuse for a conversation. He couldn't carry on a coherent
conversation if his life depended on it. Of course, she had ignored the git. What did he take her
for, a fool? Well, the Slytherin would be proven right on that one account, only. It was a mistake,
she vowed, which would never be repeated, not in this lifetime. She glanced up at the Quidditch
goalposts glimmering in the dazzling early summer sun, temporarily blinding her.

When he literally wrestled her to the ground a week later, waylaying her on the way to
Herbology, he finally had her complete and undivided attention. She remembered her shock at his
request. Thank Merlin she was flat on her back when he asked her or she would have fallen down,
probably injuring some vital part of her anatomy in the process. She asked him to repeat himself to
be sure she hadn't suffered some type of head injury on the way down which had affected her
hearing. That's what she thought he said. He asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him on the
upcoming monthly weekend event. Of course, she had laughed in his face before running off to class,
wand at the ready. There was no way she would set herself up for such obvious public humiliation at
the hands of that sneaky bastard.

The second time he wrestled her to the ground, a week later, she told him if he wanted to speak
with her, don't, for Merlin's sake, throw her on the ground again, or he would meet with
the business end of her wand in the most unpleasant way possible, no magic necessary. He seemed to
understand this and nodded as he helped her up. Would she go on a walk with him?

Was there a bet involved? Were Galleons going to be exchanged after some awful humiliation? He
shook his head, staring at her, imploring her with those eerily unnatural silver-grey eyes of his,
and for some unknown reason, she believed him. She agreed to his proposition but only under certain
strict circumstances involving daylight, her wand at the ready, and his hands kept strictly to
himself.

Two days later, she thought their five minute walk had been a great success. Everyone left
completely intact, no undue hexes or damage occurred. She thanked the Slytherin and went back to
the Great Hall for supper. That, she hoped, would be the end of that.

It wasn't the end of anything. That persistent snake was just getting started. He nagged her
and harassed her and stalked her until she was ready to hex him just to get some relief from his
infernal pestering. Fine. Yes, she would bloody well meet him in Diagon Alley over the holiday
break if he would then kindly sod off for the rest of his sorry life.

Under the guise of Christmas shopping and claiming she was meeting Luna, Ginny stole into Diagon
Alley to meet up with the Slytherin. It was Christmas time in the middle of the day in an extremely
crowded Diagon Alley. What could possibly happen? Well, that sneaky Slytherin charmed the knickers
off one unsuspecting Gryffindor, who, by the end of the day, had put away the business end of her
wand for good. When he kissed her goodbye on the cheek, he slipped a small box into the pocket of
her cloak, telling her to open it later, when she got home. Well, she tore up the stairs to her
room, threw up locking charms so strong even Fred and George would have been proud and took out the
box. She stared at it for quite awhile, wondering what in the world the Slytherin could possibly
have thought she would like as he didn't know her at all. To her amazement, the most exquisite
pearl necklace she had ever laid eyes on poured out into her hand. She had never held anything this
elegant or expensive in her entire life. Carefully lifting it up to her neck, she rushed across the
room to look in the small mirror hanging on the wall. That was before reality struck a swift blow
to her head, helping her remember that she could never accept such an extravagant gift. She tucked
it away, intending to return it to the Slytherin when she saw him again after the holidays at
Hogwarts. What an unexpected, ridiculously outrageous thing for him to do.

After several weeks away, Ginny really wasn't sure what to expect when she saw the Slytherin
again. He waylaid her on the way to Charms their first day back, asking her to meet him outside the
Quidditch field that afternoon, after class. He was obviously hurt when she tried to return his
gift. He kept shaking his head and pushing it back on her, until the pair nearly got into a fist
fight over it. Why did she finally relent and keep the necklace? Because he genuinely wanted her to
have it, that's why. Apparently the holidays spent apart had done nothing to dampen his
interest in her. Over the next two months, Ginny would come to understand the full powers of the
Malfoy charm when they came to bear on one slip of a witch from Gryffindor. He would stop at
nothing to win her affection.

He would ambush her at various points in the day just to get his hands on her, she was sure of
that. He took to watching the Gryffindor Quidditch team practices, much to the dislike of every
member on the team, one redheaded Chaser being the exception, and he would escort her back to the
castle with her hand-me-down broom over his shoulder. He would constantly surprise her with more
ridiculously expensive gifts, until she told him to bloody well knock it off. No, she wasn't
for sale, and he didn't need to engage in that kind of silliness for her, either. They spent
hours in various abandoned classrooms all over the castle, studying and talking. He never missed an
opportunity to tell her how unbelievably beautiful he thought she was and would stare at her
endlessly, until she hit him over the head to get him to stop.

No, she never did go to Hogsmeade with the Slytherin that year. After a month of chasing each
other around the castle, it became apparent to both that their little liaison was highly unpopular
with the remainder of the students. Slytherins and Gryffindors, in particular, were not amused. He
no longer came to her Quidditch practices. She no longer acknowledged him in the halls. They simply
passed each other without a sideways or a backwards glance.

However, three staircases, two corridors and one hiding place away, the two were firmly wrapped
up in each other. One simple kiss from him would set her entire body on fire in a way she never
knew possible. As soon as that trap door swung silently shut with a firm locking charm in place,
she threw herself at him with abandon. He held her and adored her and made unbelievable love to
her, until she could think no more, until she could breathe no more, until she could only collapse
onto him. She remembered how his body trembled in her arms, how he whispered those crazy
endearments in her ear, and how he swore to her his love was forever. Forever.

She sighed, pushing errant strands of silk out of her face as she threw another rock into the
lake. No, it didn't skip. It sank straight to the bottom. She sat on the ground, knees drawn
up, arms tucked firmly around her legs, staring out at the mirror-like black water, wondering
vaguely if the Giant Squid ate Gryffindors for lunch. She decided that the Giant Squid was most
likely a vegetarian, and that only a certain Slytherin ate Gryffindors for lunch, probably belching
like a troll afterwards.

She supposed five months could feel like forever to a particular sorry excuse for a sentient
magical being. How could she have been so incredibly foolish and naive? All he had to do was turn
on a little of that Malfoy charm, throw a few expensive trinkets her way, and she threw herself at
him like a completely wanton cow. She buried her face in her arms, groaning.

He used her, unbelievably used her, and then dumped her like a rainy picnic in July. She closed
her eyes, seeing his gorgeous figure in front of her, his arms around her, his deliciously warm
lips covering her face as he whispered worshipping words to her. Of course, she didn't believe
it possible, even while it was happening, for a wizard as beautiful as the Slytherin to be
interested in her freckled self. That was the amazing part. He took her, disbelieving, into his
arms and made her believe. He made her believe that all he could see was her, all he could feel was
her, and all he would ever want was her. She was more than he could ever expect, much less deserve.
He made her feel as if he were the unworthy one. What an unbelievable, unmitigated disaster of a
farce.

When Ginny Weasley caught the Hogwarts Express home that year, she was forever a changed witch.
Gone were her innocent eyes and star struck heart. She was absolutely heartbroken and hurting in a
fashion she never knew existed. Of course she hated the Slytherin with every fibre of her being
that wasn't busy aching and yearning for him. He was everywhere she looked, in everything she
felt, and she could hardly stand to be alive, so unrelenting was her particular kind of hell. How
did one move on with one's life after being struck down by such grief? She no longer cared if
she lived or died. Her entire world had gone black.

If she had known what she was giving him when she gave it to him, she would have been much more
careful with such a treasure, but it was gone. He had stolen her heart and ran away with it,
crushing it beneath his boot before she could grab it back. Now it was lost somewhere out there,
unwanted, uncared for, and most likely forgotten. She sighed. If and when she retrieved that heart
of hers, she vowed to put magical wards around it so powerful it would be absolutely
impenetrable.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading. -fallenwitch

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2. His Alcoholically Annihilated Memory
---------------------------------------



**Warning:** Draco's potty mouth dead ahead. Please slow down and turn around if this
type of thing offends.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks to Marcia for the beta.

**Chapter 2**

**His Alcoholically Annihilated Memory**

She saw him across the deserted, dimly lit Muggle pub. He was holed up in a corner booth,
slouched over a tumbler of some concoction of alcohol. His trademark platinum blond locks were
uncharacteristically long, almost covering his eyes. Not that she could see his eyes. They were
firmly planted in the direction of his particular toxin. One elegant hand was on his forehead.

The Slytherin had not graced her life in over five years, not since the time he unceremoniously
kicked her out, but she had heard about him. His nefarious exploits, from Dumbledore's murder
to his constantly shifting allegiances, were well known. It all ended with Voldemort's death
three years ago. How he had managed to keep his arse permanently out of Azkaban was a secret known
only to Harry and the Wizengamot. When he was acquitted of his war crime charges a year and a half
ago, he vanished.

There were a dozen or more rumours about his whereabouts and constant talk of his role in the
current Death Eater insurrection, but it was all speculation. Even the most persistent of the Rita
Skeeters of the world had not managed to track him down. But here he was slumming in a Muggle pub
in downtown London, alone.

Draco had had enough. He shoved the wretched tumbler across the table, stood and began making
his way to the door. Shite. Halfway there he stopped, spun around and went back to retrieve his
bloody Muggle jacket. The last thing he needed was to replace another goddamn jacket because he was
too damn drunk to hold onto it. What a royal pain in his arse.

He grabbed the uncooperative jacket, threw it on and made a try for the door again. This time
around he saw her, his former vision of red silk and freckles, sitting alone at a table. His eyes
locked in on the sight of her and refused to let go.

Ginny turned away in a panic when she saw the Slytherin leaving his booth. What was he doing?
Merlin, he wasn't approaching her table, was he? She placed one hand along the side of her face
in an attempt to hide from him.

“Ginny?”

She reluctantly tore her hand from her face and turned slowly around. Unsure of what to expect
from the infamous wizard, Ginny slid her chair back until it hit the wall and refused to move any
further. Then she stared at him.

Had he not had the sense knocked out of him by a pint or two too many, Draco never would have
approached her, but all that alcohol had taken down his normal defences, leaving him drunk and
unexpectedly vulnerable. When he saw the fear and repulsion etched in her face, he was taken
aback.

“Ginny,” he said softly, pulling up a chair next to hers. “No.” He reached out and ran the back
of his hand down the side of her face in an incredibly gentle fashion. “Don't. I would never
hurt you.”

Ginny placed a hand on his arm, staying his hand from touching her any further. He immediately
withdrew his touch and instead took to staring at her.

“Draco, I think you should be going now.”

To her surprise, he nodded and reluctantly stood.

“Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me, Ginny.” She shook her head. “Look, I'm too damn drunk to do anything, which I
wouldn't even if I wasn't.” Before she could stop him, he had her hand firmly in his and
was pulling her out of her chair.

“Draco, no. Where do you think you're taking me?” Ginny was already on her feet and
stumbling out the door by the time she managed to get this out of her startled mouth.

“To my place or your place or anyplace.”

Yes, she could have yanked her hand out of his hand, and she knew she should have yanked it and
yanked it hard, but she didn't. Instead, she tagged along behind the Slytherin while he strode
down the pavement, around the corner and into the darkened alleyway. Of course it was stupid and
ridiculous and downright dangerous, but that didn't stop her. She stood there while he drew her
into his arms and swiftly Disapparated them.

Ginny checked all four limbs, as well as the rest of her anatomy, to make sure no vital body
parts had been splinched. As drunk as he was, Merlin only knew what could have happened. After
reassuring herself that she was indeed intact, Ginny took a look around.

Well, living in pseudo-exile certainly hadn't hurt the snake's lifestyle, she thought,
glancing around the exquisitely furnished flat.

"My place,” he said with a sweep of his arm.

Ginny walked around the enormous main room, drawn to the three picture windows flanking one wall
and overlooking the London skyline. Other than the stacks of books which hugged the walls, there
were no personal items of any kind. Even the walls were blank - no pictures, paintings or mirrors.
She didn't know what she expected, but this wasn't it.

“Have a seat, Ginny.” She turned around, took off her coat and sat down. Draco collapsed on the
sofa next to her.

“So this is where you've been living.”

“Yes, this is the current prison cell.”

“Why do you call it that?”

He turned and looked over at her. “How've you been, Ginny?”

“Why do you call it a prison cell?”

“I don't want to talk about me. I want to talk about you.”

Ginny shifted uncomfortably in her seat. He was staring at her again. “I don't want to talk
about me.”

“Alright, we won't talk.” Draco reached over, pulled her to him and placed his warm, alcohol
tinged lips on hers. Of course, she didn't respond to his insistent and gentle movements, not
even when he walked a tender trail of biting kisses down the side of her face and onto her
neck.

“Draco,” she said, attempting to push him away.

“Shhh…” he whispered, taking her into his arms and cradling her hesitant form to his. “We're
not talking.” Then he laid down on the sofa, taking her with him.

“Draco... “

He put a silencing finger to her lips. “Shhh...” Then he kissed her forehead and closed his
eyes. No, she didn't struggle. What was the point? Although he was drunk and had no idea of
what he was doing, he wasn't particularly malignant or dangerous in his current state. She let
him hold her until he fell asleep minutes later before carefully untangling her limbs from his and
standing.

In his sleep-induced state, he didn't look all that different from the boy she once knew,
peaceful and dreamy with those platinum locks in his eyes. She reached over and gently pushed them
out of his face. As she did this, she ran her hand down his cheek. Why was it that this part of his
body was so unexpectedly soft when everything else was chiselled hard and solid?

She bent down and kissed his marvellously soft cheek before withdrawing her wand. Then with one
last look at her magnificent former wizard sleeping off a drunken stupor, Ginny attempted to
Disapparate three times and failed spectacularly.

No, her wand wasn't malfunctioning. His wards were preventing her from leaving. Merlin, who
had wards which prevented someone from Disapparating? In, yes, but out? Ginny stared at Draco while
trying to decide on the best course of action.

She began making her way around his flat, opening doors and looking around. Five doors later,
she found it. Placing a levitating charm on his body, she moved him to his bed. Should she leave
him in his current state or take pity on the drunken fool and undress him? In the end, she removed
his shoes, his jacket and his jumper. That was as far as she was willing to go, former lover or
not.

During the entire process, Draco did not approach consciousness, not even close. Instead, he
remained in a sleep fit for the dead. Ginny briefly toyed with the idea of shaking him until he was
awake enough to take down his wards but decided he was too drunk to be trusted. She would rather
not end the night splinched or otherwise impaled by his partially removed wards. What a mess.

As she turned to leave, something on his bedside table caught her attention. It was a picture
frame.

*“Lumos.”*

She walked over and picked it up. A witch with wind-blown rosy cheeks was laughing and smiling
and waving. She was a naive young thing and so obviously in love. It was Ginny in a picture taken
years ago at Hogwarts with Draco's Slytherin green scarf wrapped around her neck. She sat down
on the bed and held the picture in the dazzling light of her wand.

Much later, she stood and walked around Draco's bedroom in search of the other personal
things he surrounded himself with. There was nothing else. The only thing that connected this
wizard to anyone else in the world was the picture by his bedside.

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

He woke up a little before noon dying again. It was a struggle to open his eyes. He debated the
merits of not getting up at all. What difference did it make? It made no goddamn difference at all.
So, he lay there attempting to calm the pounding pulsing inside his skull, sloshing what was left
of his brain back and forth.

Where the hell was it? He reached for his wand on the bedside table and miraculously produced a
summoning charm, beckoning his vial of anti-hangover potion. This was a hangover, was it not?
Merlin, he hoped so because if it wasn't, he was royally screwed, and he had no potion for that
particular affliction. With one swift gulp, he downed the bitter-tasting liquid and felt it scorch
and sear its way down to the pit of his stomach. Then he fell back in bed and closed his eyes. Some
minutes later, the pounding and the aching pain blissfully relented. All was quiet on the
Slytherin's front lines.

He sat up, sighed and headed for the bathroom. When he emerged, dripping wet with a towel thrown
around his waist, he flung open his bedroom door and headed for the kitchen. Seconds later, he was
gulping down a large cup of ice water. He was so dehydrated from all the Muggle alcohol it was a
wonder he hadn't blown away in the night.

“Draco?”

He startled and swung around. When he saw her, the water going down his throat reversed course
and landed in his windpipe. Not only did he start coughing and choking, but he also dropped his
cup, which landed with a shattering holler.

“Merlin, Draco, are you alright?” After casting a quick *“Reparo”*, Ginny crossed the
kitchen and started pounding on his back.

Draco held out a hand to stop the beating. It took him awhile, but he finally regained control
of his breathing and his voice. “Ginny? What are you doing here?”

She casually put the cup back on the kitchen counter. “You brought me here.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you did. Last night.” She waited while he searched his vacant memory for an inkling of the
previous evening.

When he came up predictably empty, he looked at her. “Did I do anything else?”

“Yes, but I think we should continue this conversation after you're dressed.” Draco looked
down and nodded before brushing past Ginny and into the security of his bedroom.

Shit. Shit. Shit. And more shit. Draco began pilfering his room for clothes as he cursed his
alcoholically annihilated memory for being a worthless piece of garbage. Praying that he hadn't
kidnapped the witch, he threw on his shirt and began buttoning in haste. He hadn't attempted to
seduce her, had he? The miserable wizard pulled on his robes. What if he, heaven forbid, uttered
completely inappropriate comments of questionable emotional content? He shoved his boots on and
groaned.

Well, she hadn't hexed him on sight, and that was saying something with a witch like Ginny.
If he had done anything inappropriate, she would have had her wand out in less than a
Thestral's heartbeat. He noted no hex marks in the shower that morning. Of course, he really
didn't check for those marks seeing as he had no idea he was at risk for such a thing.

When Draco dragged his sorry arse out of the bedroom, she was sitting on a chair in front of the
cold fireplace waiting for him. Her wand, he noted gratefully, was nowhere in sight. He ran an
anxious hand over his face before sitting down in the chair opposite hers.

“Well, Ginny, what's the damage?” She smiled and shook her head. He raised an eyebrow at
this. “No damage?”

“No, no damage.”

Could she hear the relief flooding every magical cell in his body? “Why don't you tell me
what happened last night.”

“Alright.” Ginny recounted the events of the previous evening. Well, almost all the events. She
conveniently left out the part where he kissed her and fell asleep with his arms in firm possession
of her. She did include levitating him to his room so she could take the sofa. “That's it.”

Draco nodded and studied her face. “You should have taken the bed.”

She shook her head. “No, it's your bed. Besides, I know how much you hate the early morning
sun.” She gestured at the mid-day light streaming into every nook and cranny of the room.

He fell silent at this.

“I had no idea you were living in London,” she said.

He looked up and stared at her before changing the subject. “Care for some breakfast or
lunch?”

“No, thanks. I should be going.”

“Of course.” Draco stood, withdrew his wand and took down his wards for her.

Ginny lingered a moment or two, waiting for some sign from him. There was none. He made no
movement toward her. She sighed, threw her arms around him and kissed his remarkably soft cheek. He
did little more than brush her back with his steadying hands.

“It was good to see you again.”

“Take care, Ginny.”

Ginny took one last look at her former wizard before Disapparating. He stood there, long after
she had vanished, staring at the place which no longer held his vision of red silk and freckles.
Then he collapsed onto the sofa and hung his head in his hands.

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

He didn't find it until the early morning hours when he was crawling into bed. It was dark.
He was exhausted and the cool sheets were welcoming to his overheated body. He rolled over onto his
back and stared at the ceiling of his miserable prison cell before reaching over and grabbing her
picture with one familiar gesture.

That's when he heard something flutter to the floor. He reached for his wand.
*“Lumos.”* Hanging off the bed, he picked up the parchment. By the brilliant light of his
wand, he read the note written in her handwriting. It contained only her address. Nothing more.

Draco stared at the piece of parchment for several long moments. Then with one simple
*“Incendio”*, it was gone. He put back her picture, cast off his light, pulled up the covers
and closed his eyes.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading. - fallenwitch

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3. A Civilized Wizard
---------------------



**Author's Notes:** A special thank you to Marcia for the wonderful beta. -
fallenwitch

**Chapter 3**

**A Civilized Wizard**

Maybe he should charm a goddamn rut into the middle of his living room floor. Draco stopped his
pacing long enough to run a frustrated hand through his too long platinum locks. Since when had she
taken to frequenting Muggle pubs? Or for that matter, since when had she taken to imbibing any
alcoholic beverages at all, Muggle or wizard? Wasn't she the one who laughed at his secret
stock of Firewhiskey?

The incident with his former witch was one of a number of missteps, miscalculations and
decisions gone bad. If the Slytherin could close his eyes and make it all go away, he would. But no
physical darkness could wipe out the shadow that had long ago befallen his soul.

When he'd pushed her out of his fast sinking world, he was still a boy, and the Dark Lord
was calling him in a way he could not refuse. She was the one and only thing he chose to protect.
He did this by giving up his heart's only desire.

Draco groaned and leaned his weary forehead against the wall. He would have slit his own throat
if he had known the truth of the fateful and irreversible trade-off he was making, but he
didn't know. He had no way of knowing that it was a one-way street with no going back.

When he closed his eyes, there she was, right in the middle of his flat, so close he could have
reached out and touched her marvellously exhaling breath. Just touched her. Why hadn't the
witch shoved a stake through the centre of his heart and put him out of his goddamn misery while
she was at it?

He collapsed into the nearest chair and hung his head in his hands. She was stalking him,
goddamn stalking him until he thought he would go mad. Not just mad but truly, fucking insane. No
sleeping. No eating. No concentrating. Nothing. All he could see was her. All he could hear was
her. All he could taste was her. All he wanted was her. Her. Her. Her.

She wasn't a bloody troll. She knew. She had found the picture and left her miserable
address. Why did she go and leave that wretched parchment? He didn't know and didn't want
to know. Couldn't she see that? He had purposely kept her as far away from the reality of his
everyday life as he could. Why did she have to stick her bloody Gryffindor nose into his pathetic
life? Was there no goddamn privacy in all of England?

She should have hexed him into next week rather than letting him take her home to his flat. The
witch he remembered would have flattened him at the mere suggestion of such an expedition. Instead,
they had sauntered off on the bloody field trip to hell, together. Draco groaned realizing he had
jumped on the first lift available heading directly to Hades with no stopping points along the way.
He was now lost in a place where living was dying.

Draco stood and stormed into his bedroom, slamming the door as he went. Then he threw his
frustrated body onto the bed and stared at the ceiling of his previously miserable, now just plain
hellish, prison cell.

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

Cursing himself for his terminal weakness, the fully cloaked and hooded Slytherin stood outside
an unassuming flat in Godric's Hollow. It had been three endless months to the day since he had
seen her last, and he was damned if he could stop himself from seeing her one more time.

He raised one elegant hand and knocked. Then he exhaled, took a step back and waited. No
response. It was early evening, and he was sure the witch who occupied this particular flat was
home. He knocked again, this time louder and longer. It wasn't until the third try that he had
affirmation of life inside the place.

"Merlin, hang on. I'm coming." The door flew open, but all he saw was the back of
her bathrobe walking in the opposite direction. "Why don't you floo like any other
civilized wizard would?" she yelled while disappearing down a hallway. Moments later, he heard
a door slam closed.

The Slytherin took this as an invitation to come inside. He stepped over her magical threshold
and quietly shut the door. Then he closed her Floo, threw up his own considerable wards, and took
off his cloak.

It was a modest but tastefully decorated flat. It held her warmth as well as her tendency toward
clutter. Scattered owls, stacks of parchment and books covered her small writing desk. Her winter
cloak was casually thrown over the back of the sofa.

He rubbed his hands together. It was bloody freezing in her place. Looking around, he spied the
cold fireplace.

*"Incendio."*

That was better. Now, where was that witch? He studied the small hallway. There were only two
rooms leading off of it. One was a bathroom. The other had its door closed.

His boots echoed off the wooden floor as he walked down the hall and approached her door. He
stopped and knocked lightly.

No response.

He knocked again.

"Go away."

He hesitated. Clearly this wasn't the best time for her but what the hell? If he left now,
he wasn't coming back.

He knocked again. When he got no response, he tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. The door
swung open at his lightest touch. He peered inside.

It was completely dark. There was no seepage of moonlight through the cracks and crevices of the
bedroom. Her nighttime spell was holding firm. Looking over, he saw a tiny bundle in the middle of
an enormous bed, swathed in bedcovers. She was facing away from him and her head was underneath her
pillow. He could see the faintest shimmer of red peeking out from underneath the feather mound.

"Ginny?" He heard her sigh in frustration.

"How many times do I have to tell you no? Please leave me alone. Merlin." She
didn't move as she said this. He glanced around for her wand but couldn't see much in the
darkness of her room. As insurance, he held his own in the palm of his right hand. Then he
approached her bedside.

"It's been a long time since someone described me as civilized. Would you like me to
leave?" First the pillow came off, then she rolled over and looked up. When she saw his
unmistakable figure standing before her, she sat up and continued staring at him. He knelt in front
of her. "I've come at a bad time, haven't I?" She shook her head. "Are you
sure?" She nodded. "I'll wait out here for you." When he left, he closed the
door quietly behind him.

Many minutes later, she silently appeared out of the hallway. She was dressed in black robes
with her crimson tresses long and loose around her face. He noticed she wore a pair of white socks
in lieu of boots. As soon as she neared the room, her wand was out, and she lowered all the lights.
It was now extremely dim. He stood.

"I thought you weren't coming," she said softly, taking a seat on the sofa.

"I wasn't." He sat down next to her.

She didn't look at him but took to staring at the brightly burning fireplace across the
room. He noticed the wavering splashes of light created amber highlights in her spun silk.

"But you're here," she said, now looking at her intertwining fingers.

"Yes, I'm here."

When she fell silent, he did not interrupt her.

"Are you leaving again? Don't stay if you're leaving again."

He sighed. "Ginny..."

She turned and placed a swift hand to his lips. "Don't." She shook her head and
cast her tired eyes on his. "Don't say it. I don't want to hear it." Her hand
slowly released itself from his lips.

"Ginny... " It was back again. She held her delicate hand firmly to his lips as she
crawled onto the sofa and knelt beside him.

"No, Draco. Shhh…" This time when she slowly removed her hand from his lips, she
wrapped her arms around him, drawing him into her crazy world. Then she buried her face in the nape
of his neck and exhaled. That tickling of warmth against his neck sent Draco over the edge.

Groaning, he threw his aching arms around her, pulling her into his lap and flush against him.
Then he closed his eyes and surrendered himself to the wonder of her marvellous presence. He was
instantly transported back to a girl he once knew, to a boy who no longer existed, to a place long
since destroyed. It was this lost world that he dreamed about and longed for.

He hung on, refusing to let her go. It was only when she began placing gentle kisses on his neck
and throat that he loosened his hold enough to meet her hungry lips with his own. Her hands were in
his hair, on his face, his back, then pushing his robes and his shirt aside. His heart nearly
exploded.

How could she so effortlessly allow him back in after he had kicked her out of his life and
inexplicably stomped on her fragile heart years ago? He could not believe she was meeting his
excruciating abandon with her own. She held him and touched him and was about to make unbelievable
love to him. How could he let her go again?

"Draco," she murmured, playfully biting the tip of his nose as she knowingly pressed
certain portions of her unclothed body against certain portions of his equally unclothed body,
"don't keep me waiting." Then she nuzzled into the side of his neck, as she wrapped
her legs around his waist.

He gathered his wonderfully feisty and demanding witch to him, legs and all, and carried her to
the bedroom. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, safe in his arms. He kicked the
door closed and placed her on the bed. As he did this, he knocked over something on the floor that
began to run over his now bare feet.

She was tugging on his neck, in an attempt to pull him down onto her overly aroused body. He
returned her ardent kisses with his own as his eyes locked in on the site of a toppled bottle of
Firewhiskey and the empty tumbler beside it. Leaning over, he grabbed the bottle.

"Ginny," he asked quietly between heated kisses, "have you been drinking
tonight?"

"Why?"

He held up the bottle of Firewhiskey for her. "I spilt this. I think it was left
open."

"Oh, that's alright. It was almost empty anyway." This time when she made a grab
for him, he gently stayed her hand before placing the bottle of Firewhiskey on the bedside
table.

"How much did you have to drink?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "Just a little bit." To emphasize this point, she stuck
out her thumb and forefinger with almost no space between the two appendages.

"You're drunk."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Of course, I'm drunk. I never said I wasn't
drunk." Then the Slytherin took the inebriated and completely naked witch into his arms and
cradled her searing body against his.

"Oh, Ginny-girl," he whispered, holding her close to his breaking heart.

"What's wrong, Draco?"

"Shhh… nothing's wrong." He held her tightly, until he felt her relax against him.
Then he pulled down the sheets, crawled inside with her and held her some more.

Some minutes later, he heard her soft, sleep-filled voice. "Don't you want me,
Draco?"

"Of course, I want you, Ginny, but not like this."

Ginny nodded before snuggling closer to her wizard. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"You love me, don't you?"

He sighed, "Yes, Ginny, I love you."

Minutes later, she fell asleep in his arms.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading. I will be taking an indefinite hiatus from the
fandom and writing. However, I will post the remaining rewritten and beta'd chapters of The
Slytherin's Witch before departing. - fallenwitch

-->



4. His Vulnerability
--------------------



**Author's Notes:** Thank you, Marcia, for the beta and everything else. -fallenwitch

**Chapter 4**

**His Vulnerability**

Three weeks later, she capped the bottle of Firewhisky and slowly placed it in the sideboard.
Then she sat on the floor in front of the fireplace, drawing her legs to her chest and resting her
chin on top of her knees. The glowing embers of the dying fire were the only sources of weak light
in the room. In another half an hour, everything would go pitch black and cold.

She reached up and pulled the wizard's cloak down off the sofa and around herself. The hood
fell over her head, covering the front of her face. It was now completely dark to her eyes.

No, he never came back. The only evidence of his nocturnal visit was the fine winter garment he
left behind, the cloak with no identifying marks and dozens of empty pockets. She drew it around
her slight frame, hugging the soft fabric to her chilled body and surrounding herself with
surrogate Slytherin warmth.

Of course she had gone to the pub, dozens of times, with no luck. He had vanished again. She
closed her tired eyes, attempting to transport herself back to that other time. The time long ago
when he would throw his cloak around her in the frozen dungeon-hiding place they met in late at
night.

She laughed at him back then, at his ridiculous attempts to protect her and provide for her and
care for her. It wasn't as if she hadn't brought her own cloak. But that wasn't the
point, was it? She sighed, tipping the hood back far enough to allow her to see. This was painfully
clear to her now. Many things were clear.

He loved her beyond reason in his own, indecipherable Malfoy way. No, it wasn't her way or
the way of any other wizard or boy she had known. But it was his way.

She cringed, remembering how she had brushed aside his expensive gifts and accused him of trying
to "buy" her affection. No, he wasn't trying to "buy" her. Those gifts were
his way of loving her. It was the only way he had ever known, the only thing he had ever seen. He
was telling her over and over again with each new gift how much he loved her. But she couldn't
see that then and he couldn't tell her.

It was his last gift to her that was unbearable. He gave her up and pushed her away to protect
her during the War. It was her neurotic insecurity that had mistaken his sacrifice for something
else. How could such a magnificent wizard have loved her once? But he did and now she knew.

All the pieces of that long forgotten and much maligned puzzle fell into place weeks ago. There
were no jagged edges or ill-fitting pieces. His unbroken circle was complete.

Ginny stood and walked over to the kitchen table, picking up her wand. She remembered the day he
gave her the precious piece of wood. Her wand had been malfunctioning a tad, but it was still a
perfectly good wand as far as Weasley wands go, but he had gone and gotten her this one instead. He
insisted she keep it, putting his foot down in a way she had never seen before.

They argued over the bloody thing for days until she threatened to break it in half. She was
insulted at the suggestion that her wand needed replacing. No, it wasn't in the same league as
the wand he had bought for her, but it was her mother's old wand. Was her mother's wand not
good enough for him?

Ginny held up the contentious piece and brought it down in a stunning swoop with one swift
stroke, watching the red and gold sparks fly from its tip. Then she held it to her chest. No, the
wand wasn't about all of her ridiculous nonsense. It was about the upcoming War and her need
for protection from something that would never fail her in any situation, ever. It had saved her
life many times where her old wand would have faltered. And despite its connection to her anger at
former wizard, it became one of her most treasured possessions.

If she closed her eyes, she could envision herself in his elegant flat somewhere in London. She
could see the overly long baby soft platinum locks falling into his eyes as he slept, and she could
feel his intoxicated arms around her as his hot, alcohol-tinged lips burned hers. She closed her
eyes, raised her wand and foolishly attempted to reunite herself with her former wizard.

When she opened her eyes, she was standing in the middle of the Slytherin's flat. It was
dark and silent. Moonlit silver streamed into the place, forming odd shadows and splashes of
hesitant light over the contents of his living room. She stood still, waiting to hear some stirring
from somewhere in the dwelling. There was only silence.

"Draco?"

Silence.

"Draco?" A little louder.

Silence.

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

Draco Apparated home in the early morning hours, exhausted. He threw his Muggle jacket on the
sofa, kicked off his shoes and kept walking. No, he never turned on the lights. He preferred the
soothing darkness that enveloped him and his world at night, hiding the scars and the putrid truths
of his daylight hours.

Before stepping into the room, he saw someone. His wand was reflexively drawn into striking
position in less than a Thestral's heartbeat. He stood motionless, staring at the cloaked
figure, watching the regular rhythm of its breathing for many minutes, until he had convinced
himself of its apparent slumber.

Cautiously creeping over with his wand and an appropriate curse at the ready, Draco ripped off
the intruder's hood. That's when he saw her.

Ginny's slight frame was wrapped in his cloak, asleep on his bed, her scarlet silk flooding
his bedcovers with its moonlit brilliance. He groaned and sank to his knees in front of her,
dropping his wand to the floor with a clatter.

"Ginny," he breathed, placing his tortured face on her sleeping form and soaking in
the glory of her wondrous presence. He wrapped his shaking arms around her and hung onto his
beautiful witch.

Many minutes later, when he managed to extricate himself from her unconscious form long enough
to lift her into his arms, she stirred and opened her dark eyes, staring at him. He froze.

"Draco, what are you doing?"

"I'm taking you home, Ginny." She shook her sleepy head.

"I can Apparate myself home." Before he could stop her, she was climbing down from his
arms and standing, still wrapped in his cloak. She withdrew her wand and looked at him. “I
wasn't going to stay. I fell asleep waiting for you.”

His pained eyes never moved from her face. "Ginny..."

She shook her head. "Don't say it. It's okay." Suddenly remembering his cloak,
she pulled it from her shoulders and placed it in his hands, revealing her white cotton nightgown
underneath. "This is yours. You forgot it."

"Thank you."

She took two steps back and stared at his pale, irridescent eyes. “Goodnight, Draco.”

He sighed, "Goodnight, Ginny."

Her wand hit the wooden floor with a muffled clunk before she rushed to him, throwing her
desperate arms around his once familiar frame and burying her face in his chest. He reflexively
wrapped his steadying arms around her and heard her stifled cry.

"Ginny," he said softly, running one hand reassuringly through her tresses before
loosening his hold on her. She shook her head and tightened her arms around him.

Many minutes later when he gently pried her arms loose, she let them drop to her side and leaned
against his chest, her cheek rubbing the soft fabric of his shirt. He took her tear-stained face in
his elegant hands and tipped her chin up with one thumb until her reluctant dark eyes met his. Then
he gently brushed his warm lips against hers, whispering, "Stay with me, Ginny."

The Slytherin was irreversibly sliding down that slippery slope, the one with no soft landing
for either of them. She was his terminal weakness, his Achilles heel, his only vulnerability. He
was powerless to stop himself as he picked up her slender body in his arms and carried her back to
his bed.

When he slid in between the cool sheets that night, she crawled over and into his waiting arms,
burying herself in his warmth. He cradled her precious form to his as he took an unsteady breath,
kissed her softly and closed his frightened eyes.

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading. - fallenwitch

-->



5. Shhh... Draco
----------------



**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.

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

"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

-->



6. Is It A Duck?
----------------



**Author's Notes:** Much appreciation to Marcia for the beta and everything else. Thanks
to asmartperfectionist, yiota, moogle, seegrim and nicolepotter86 for the wonderful reviews. Now on
with our story... -fallenwitch

**Chapter 6**

**Is It A Duck?**

"Oh, stop it, Harry," she hissed, knocking the war hero in the side with her elegantly
clad elbow. Harry's brilliant green eyes lit up as he threw an arm around her waist and drew
her next to his lean frame.

"What will all the Weasley boys say when I tell them their little sister is running around
town with Blaise Zabini?" Ginny reached up and tweaked Harry's ear, hard.

"Don't you dare."

He gave her hand a swat and stood by her side, arm still tucked around her, watching the sea of
witches and wizards dancing and mingling in slow moving waves.

"Honestly, Gin, I had no idea your taste ran so low."

She flashed her furious eyes at him. "I shagged you, didn't I?"

Harry threw a closed fist over his chest. "You wound me." When she ignored his
theatrics, he released his hold on her. "Seriously, Ginny, what's with the get up and the
pureblooded arse over there?"

"It's my job, Harry, that's all. You know that, so stop being such a git."

"Fraternizing with the boss is part of your job?"

"He needed someone from the company to escort him, that's all."

Harry nodded in an understanding manner. "Yeah, it looks like he's really hurting for
female company, doesn't it?"

Ginny followed his line of sight to her boss being accosted by an eager young witch falling out
of her robes over him. "That's because this isn't a date, Harry. It's
business."

"Right, forgot about that." He cleared his throat. "Hey, Gin, if it looks like a
duck and quacks like a duck, is it a duck?"

"Is this some sort of stupid Muggle joke?" He shook his head.

"Well, then it's a duck, of course."

"Exactly. If it looks like a date and smells like a date, it must be a date." Harry
leaned over and kissed Ginny on the cheek. "Be careful, Gin. Send up a signal if you need
help."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him and went to give him a swift kick in the shin, but Harry, being
Harry, deftly dodged it and sent her stumbling. His Seeker's hands caught her just before she
landed on her undignified Weasley bum.

"I had no idea you'd be needing me this soon. Should I stay?" Ginny felt his
steadying arms putting her back on her feet.

Once safely upright, she whispered in his ear, "No thanks, Harry." Then she kicked his
shin as hard as she could, using her hands on his shoulders as leverage.

"Ouch! Merlin, Ginny, is that what I get for saving your arse?"

"If it weren't for you, my arse wouldn't need saving," she hissed back,
irritated.

"Ginny?"

She spun around, coming face to face with her boss. Flushing pink, she pulled her remaining hand
off of Harry's left shoulder and put on a dazzling smile. "Hullo, Harry was just leaving.
Weren't you, Harry?"

"Right, just leaving." He bent down and kissed her on the side of her neck. "See
you, Gin." Straightening, he looked up and nodded. "Zabini."

"Potter."

Blaise glanced over at Harry walking across the floor, attempting to circumvent his usual mob of
adoring witches. "I didn't know you two were dating again."

Ginny snorted at this. "That's because we're not."

Blaise studied her, curious. "Shall we?" He gestured to the Minister of Magic. Ginny
nodded and crossed the floor with Blaise. As they stepped up to speak with the Minister, Ginny
glanced over her shoulder and saw Harry's eyes on Blaise.

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

Draco sat up in bed, cursing. He needed some goddamn relief from the nightmares, waking and
sleeping, and the anxiety attacks and the constant feelings of impending doom. Rolling out of bed,
he stomped to the bathroom and began riffling through his drawer of potions. He was psychotically
sleep deprived and irritable, resenting the unrelenting symptoms that were pushing him to the brink
of madness.

He stopped riffling and slammed the drawer closed, rattling the countertop. Forget a fucking
potion. He was pissing them out as fast as he was sucking them in, and they weren't doing a
goddamn thing for him. He should have blown his head off with a curse years ago. Either that or
summoned a bloody Dementor and kissed the wretched thing. If the answer to his dilemma couldn't
be found in a seductive potion or an alcohol filled bottle, then he was screwed, royally
screwed.

The Slytherin was losing his mind, one magical neuron at a time. The tenuous grip he had on
reality was failing and he felt himself slipping. His life was a jumbled mix of times and places
and colliding realities. He was bloody nutters was what he was.

Draco walked out into the moonlit sitting room and collapsed onto the sofa, running a tired hand
over his face before staring out into nothing. She knew. She didn't know what or why, but she
knew something was wrong with him. He could see it in her eyes and hear it in her voice. He
didn't need her goddamn pity. He just needed her.

What else could he do? If he slit his throat or spent the rest of his life dancing with
Dementors in Azkaban, it wouldn't bring a goddamn person back to life. Yes, Draco had tried and
failed to intellectualize his way out of the crippling guilt he had carried for many years, but he
couldn't change his past. He was paralyzed by all the desires in his heart and all the
have-nots in his head. He closed his suicidal eyes. Screw it.

"Draco?"

He startled and looked up, eyes wide and dilated. Merlin, where the hell had she come from? He
didn't even hear the crack of her Apparation into his flat.

She was sitting by his side, putting her arms around him. "What's wrong? Can't
sleep again?" He nodded and looked at her. She was spectacular in the moonlight, the most
magnificent creature he had ever had the misfortune of stumbling across and into. Then he noticed
her shimmering gossamer silk dress robes, the silver clasp in her hair and her heels.

"Where've you been?"

She smiled and shook her head. "No place." He raised an eyebrow at this as her hand
ran through his platinum locks, pushing them out of his eyes.

"Really?" He took the silver clasp from her hair and watched her tresses cascade in a
tumble down the side of her face.

She laughed, "No place interesting."

"Hmm…" he muttered as she kicked off her heels, crawled up on the sofa next to him and
began nibbling on his neck, landing soft biting kisses down the length of his throat before
stopping to rest her forehead on his chin. He watched as she snaked her arms around his neck,
turned her brilliant dark eyes up at his and landed her soft, urging lips on his while brushing her
elegantly clad breasts against his bare chest, the weight of her desire pressed up against him.

She tugged on his neck and whispered against his lips, "Draco." But he shook his head,
turning away from the stunned witch. Was he teasing her? Ginny made a second grab for him, but he
gently stayed her hand while staring her down.

When she looked up confused, he spoke, "Not until you tell me where you've been."
He had no idea she even owned a set of robes of that quality. Where did she get the Galleons to buy
it?

After a silent moment or two, Ginny pulled away and stared at him, surprised. "Draco,
you're jealous. Aren't you?"

He snorted at her suggestion, "Don't be ridiculous." Of course he was jealous. He
was out of his tenuous mind with jealousy. No, they had never said anything outright about it, but
he assumed a certain exclusivity existed between the two of them. Was he mistaken? "Wherever
it was, it couldn't have been much if you're here."

"It wasn't. I went to the Ministry's winter ball with Blaise. That's
all."

"Zabini?" Since when had she even spoken to that rat, much less gone out on a bloody
date with his former housemate?

"It wasn't a date, Draco. It was part of my job."

Really? He didn't realize the typical junior associate's job description included social
activities with the company vice president.

"I didn't realize Zabini Enterprises had that kind of an entertainment budget," he
murmured looking at her dress.

"Oh, you mean this thing?" she said, picking up her robes. "Blaise got this for
me. He said he didn't want me to embarrass him, that's all." Wasn't that
interesting? The witch had no idea she was wearing a thousand Galleon set of robes or a five
hundred Galleon pair of shoes, the ones she had kicked off and tossed aside. "Yes, the shoes
as well, okay?"

Draco stood in disgust and headed back to his bedroom.

"Where are you going?" she called out to his back.

"To bed."

"I thought you said you couldn't sleep."

"I can't."

Seeing her like that wasn't helping a goddamn thing. Zabini wanted to get her in the sack;
either that or he wanted something worse, a relationship. He knew that rat well enough to know he
would never put down that kind of money for anything else.

Ginny rushed after Draco, watching him crawl back into bed and pull up the bedcovers, facing
away from her and out the window. She threw off her clothes and climbed into bed next to him,
wearing nothing but her knickers.

"Draco," she pleaded softly, putting her arms around him and pulling her body flush
against his, her breasts on his back, her leg in between his two. "Don't be mad. It
wasn't a date, honestly. I would have told you if it was anything more than work. You know
that."

"I'm not mad, Ginny. You're free to do as you like."

Over his dead and rotting corpse. No, he didn't respond to her physical gestures or her
attempts to manipulate him. Draco held his body firmly in check before it burst open, sending bits
and pieces of his furious flesh everywhere. What the hell could he do or say to her? Not a damn
thing, that's what. He couldn't take her anywhere or give her anything or offer her a
future or a family or a home. He could only live with her in the nonexistence world that ran
between the edges of the Muggle and wizarding worlds. His love was a joke, his life a nightmare.
With half the wizarding world out to kill him, having her in his bed wasn't the smartest idea
he'd ever had.

The thought of someone like Zabini coming along and sweeping her away was more than he could
tolerate. Was he going to be sick? If not Zabini, then it would be some other wizard. A witch of
her quality didn't go unnoticed.

"Draco," she was leaning over him, whispering into his ear, "I love you. You know
that, don't you?" He sighed as his aching heart tumbled over in a ridiculous teenage
somersault. He turned over onto his back, pulling her to him.

"I know." He kissed her softly and stared at the ceiling of his torture chamber. Ginny
snuggled closer to her glorious wizard and laid her head on his chest, listening to the erratic
beating of his heart.

"Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"The next time you need dress robes and shoes, ask me, will you?"

He was perfectly capable of clothing his own goddamn witch, thank you very much. He didn't
need Zabini buying her anything. No, he wasn't completely impotent. Just damn close.

"Of course, Draco."

"Ginny?"

"Yes?"

"The next time you need anything, ask me, alright?"

"Alright." She kissed his chin and wiggled closer.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"I need you."

-->



7. I Don't Give A Damn, Ginny
-----------------------------



**Author's Notes:** Thanks to Marcia for the beta, as always. With DH bearing down, I am
going to step it up to try and finish off this fic before canon changes forever. Gasp! -
fallenwitch

**Chapter 7**

**I Don't Give A Damn, Ginny**

What more could he do? He had his Ginny, didn't he? Resisting the urge to scream until his
lungs burst open, Draco took to staring at his plate instead.

She glanced at him from across the table, watching as he mutilated his food into unrecognizable
fodder, one slow stab at a time. He was in a foul mood and silent. Turning her eyes back to her
plate, she took a bite or two, attempting to preserve their fragile veneer of normalcy.

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"I need dress robes and a pair of shoes."

His head lifted as his eyes locked with hers. "What?"

She sighed and put her fork down. "You told me to ask you if I needed something. I'm
going to the St. Mungo's Ball for Zabini Enterprises."

A frown fell across his brow and his eyes crash landed on his plate and stayed there. He nodded.
"Of course, Ginny. No problem."

He didn't ask with whom she was going or if she was going with Zabini because he bloody well
didn't want to know. He couldn't tolerate knowing. All he needed to know was that she would
come home to him.

"I'm going with Blaise again. I couldn't say no. He's my boss." Draco
didn't look up or react. He continued eating and kept his mouth closed. "It's not a
date, Draco."

Where did his goddamn appetite go? He pushed his plate away and looked at her.

"I don't give a damn, Ginny."

Then he stood and left her there. When he returned minutes later, she was standing and staring
out the window, arms wrapped around her waist.

"This is for you." She looked over as he handed her a Gringotts key. Before he could
place it in her hands, she was shaking her head and pushing it away. He took her hand, opened it
and placed the key in her palm. "No, this is for you. It's not much, but I want you to
spend it on whatever you want."

When she tried to give it back, he shook his head and wrapped his arms around her, imploring
her, "Don't refuse me, Ginny. I have very little to give you in my current situation. Let
me give you this."

He was kissing her neck and touching her and drawing her body to his in a way he had not done in
weeks. She threw her arms around him and held on, desperate to feel some warmth from him, to feel
that he wasn't slipping away.

Draco poured out his pathetic heart to her. He held her and touched her and made glorious love
to her in his quiet, melodic way, lighting her soul on fire and searing his way into her body, open
and vulnerable and yearning for him.

When he collapsed in a shuddering heap on her sweet and sticky body, melded to his, she
tightened her legs around his waist, locking him in place. Some time later, when he attempted to
shift his weight up and off of her, she refused to let go. Draco wrapped one arm around Ginny and
rolled them both over on their side. When he tried to look at her, she turned her face away from
him and buried it in the crook of his neck.

"Ginny?" Her breath was warm against his neck and her hands tight on his shoulders.
"Ginny, no," he whispered as her tears began to roll down his neck and onto his back
before soaking into the soft cotton sheets. "What's wrong?" She shook her head and
buried it deeper against him. Draco reached down and dragged the bedcovers up over their collected
form, wrapping her shivering body in his arms as he stroked her hair, attempting to sooth her
unknown worries away.

When she felt Draco enveloping her world with his magnificent presence and whispered words of
endearment, when he was beside her holding her world upright and safe, she relaxed and released the
lock her legs had around his waist, settling into the comfort of his body nestled against hers.
Looking up, she saw the tortured concern radiating from his eyes as he kissed her tears away and
wondered why she had ever questioned his attachment to her. Didn't two broken halves constitute
a whole?

"Ginny," he murmured, resting his forehead against hers, "I love you. Crazy love
you. You know that." She nodded and closed her eyes as he leaned down to kiss her in the way
that he always kissed her. It was enough. It was more than enough for one fragile slip of a witch
from Gryffindor who couldn't tolerate another loss, at least not this one.

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

*He Apparated his dragging arse home as the sun was rising. His aching body remained upright
despite his inability to take one more bloody step. How many insufferable raids could the Dark Lord
expect them pull off in one miserable night? Crazy Half-Blood. Then he saw her on the cold, marble
floor dressed in nothing but a flimsy nightgown. He knelt down beside her, ran his worried eyes
over the scene and wrapped his arms around her slight frame. She opened her eyes and looked
up.*

*"Draco?"*

*He sighed. "Yes, Mother, it's me." The smell of Firewhisky wafted off her.
"Where the hell are your elves?" He was furious. She would catch her death lying on that
damn floor.*

*Shaking her head, she put her hand to his mouth. "Shhh… I sent them away to Bella's
for the night. I didn't want to be bothered."*

*"Let's get you to bed," he said, withdrawing his wand, but she stayed his
hand.*

*"No, Draco, that'll wake your father." He nodded, tucked his wand away and
picked her up in his arms. She sighed and rested her head against his chest. "That's
better."*

*He carried her up all three flights of stairs to her bedroom. As soon as were within twenty
feet of her room, she began protesting.*

*"No, put me down. You'll wake up your father," she whispered. Draco sighed and
set her unsteady frame down. "Go on, now. Off to bed with you, too." He watched her
stumble down the hall, falling face first a dozen steps later. Rushing to her side, he had his arms
around her as she picked herself up again.*

*"Mother, please. Let me help you."*

*She shook her head. "You're making too much noise. I won't allow you to wake
your father. You know how hard he's been working." Ignoring her remarks, Draco kept his
arms firmly around the drunken witch and gently opened the door to her bedroom.*

*When she became agitated, he locked his hands around her face and stared into her beautiful,
confused eyes. "Mother, Father's not here tonight, remember? He's out with the other
Death Eaters. Don't worry. You won't wake him." He felt her tense, combative body
relax.*

*"That's right. How silly of me. I forgot." Draco helped her into her side of
the enormous bed and pulled up the bedcovers. "Thank you, Draco," she said, reaching out
her hand for his. He leaned down and put his hand in hers, staring into her sunken eyes. Merlin,
she was thin and fading before his terrified eyes.*

*He kissed her cheek as she ran her hand through his baby soft locks. "Goodnight,
Mother." He sat by her bedside, his worried eyes never leaving her, until the slow, steady
rhythm of sleep filled her breathing. Minutes later, sleep took him as well, and his body went limp
and still, molding itself to the familiar comfort of the chair by her bedside.*

Draco blinked at the scorching morning sun streaming into his bedroom, lighting the damn place
afire. He turned a bit, pulled his covers up and went back to staring at the ceiling of his torture
chamber.

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

"This doesn't fit. It's too big." He sighed and nodded. When he looked down at
her feet, she lifted up the robes. "These too." He tapped his fingers on the back of the
sofa, thinking, while she stood there holding onto the excess fabric. Her impatient feet began to
shift under her robes.

"Come here." She took several awkward steps forward, trying not to step on the hem of
the robes. "Stand still." He put his hand around the back of her robes and gathered the
extra fabric, holding it tight. "Go on, let go." She let go. It fell flush against her
chest. He continued studying it. He looked at it so bloody long that she looked down at it as
well.

"Blaise," she said with a frustrated sigh. "Why can't I just wear the last
one we tried on? It was fine." He looked down at her fidgeting figure and smiled.

"Because I don't want fine. I want perfect."

"Then take Anna-Marie. She's perfect."

He shook his head and put his nose within an inch of hers. "No, she's not. She's
annoying and cloying, and I bloody well can't stand her. I want you."

*CRACK!*

They both startled and looked up at the sound of the unexpected Apparation into her flat,
breaking the lock on their bickering and their eyes. He was standing there in his winter cloak,
fine black robes and boots, staring at the pair with fire in his pale grey eyes.

The stunned pair froze.

What the hell was she doing in robes he knew she didn't purchase with Zabini's arm
around her, staring at her with his lips inches from hers? Every muscle in his furious body
contracted and the fingers holding his wand began to twitch.

"Draco," they both said at once. Then they glanced at each other.

"Am I interrupting something?" he asked, his unblinking eyes focused on Zabini.

"No," they answered in unison. Blaise straightened and moved away from Ginny, but
Draco noticed his arm remained glued to her waist.

"We were just trying on dress robes," Ginny said quickly. "We're done
now." Without thinking, she hurried forward to Draco, pulling the fabric out of Blaise's
unexpecting hand. Her robes went slack. Before he could grab it back, she stepped on the hem of the
too long robes causing the entire contraption to fall down around her waist with a jerk.

Draco's eyes went wide. Ginny gasped and looked down. Merlin, everyone looked down at her
bare breasts. The robes she was trying on needed a strapless bra, and she didn't have one so
she did what every Weasley did. She went without.

Silently cursing, Ginny threw her hands over her breasts and began back stepping as fast as she
could, desperately trying to free up enough of the robes to cover up her flushing, half-naked self.
Blaise was a step ahead of her. In one spectacular movement, he had her wrapped up in a mound of
fabric, his hand holding everything in place with one firm grip.

With her last step, Ginny stumbled on her ill-fitting shoes, falling over and into Blaise, who
reflexively threw his arms around her, drawing her flush against him. When he did this, the fabric
shifted again. Ginny latched onto Blaise's shoulder, still upright but barely.

Draco drew in a furious breath as every muscle in his already outraged body exploded. He raised
his wand, ready to fire a fucking spell at the ridiculous scene.

When Ginny saw Draco raise his wand at them with undisguised rage searing his eyes and fury in
his tense body, she panicked. "No, Draco, don't!" she yelled, throwing herself in
front of Blaise.

Screw that. He had had enough of their arsing around. Holding his wand firm, Draco reached out
with one hand and grabbed Zabini by the collar of his robes, hauling the bastard aside and into the
nearest wall, face first. Ginny screamed when he fired the spell straight at her, throwing her arms
over her face in a protective gesture, fabric and all.

Nothing happened. Seconds later, she peeked out between the edges of the fabric. Lowering her
trembling arms, she saw the robes, now fitting snuggly against her, had been expertly adjusted.
Looking up, her astonished eyes met Draco's.

He looked back, his beautiful eyes shrouded with an excruciating mix of sadness and
disappointment.

"Draco - " Ginny said, stepping forward to reach out her apologetic hand to him.

Draco shook his head in disgust, took a swift step backward and Disapparated with a sharp crack.
He was sick to his stomach and afraid he would puke his Malfoy guts out all over her and her
whoring outfit if he stayed a moment longer.

She thought he was a goddamn animal. His Ginny, who knew his heart and soul like no other,
thought he was going to attack the bastard and attack her.

Didn't she realize that he had participated in the War because he had no choice? Play by
their rules or die by your own. If she believed he was capable of such actions now, imagine what
she would think of him if she knew about all of his wartime activities? He collapsed against the
cold, hard wall, devastated.

What had he ever done to her that she was so ready to believe the worst about him? All he had
ever done was love her. He hung his head and groaned, one step away from gnashing his teeth. Yes,
that was the biggest sin of his life - loving her beyond all reason and sanity. It felt like a sin
then and still felt like one now.

It was the fallout from their unholy alliance that was killing him - one poisonous kiss at a
time. What was wrong with his miserable heart? Why did the wretched thing continue to beat, even
now? Was the bloody organ immortal or just the Dark Lord's revenge?

**Author's Notes:** Thanks for reading. - fallenwitch

-->



8. A Raving Wizard
------------------



**Author's Notes:** Thank you, Marcia, for the amazing lunch and the amazing beta. -
fallenwitch

**Chapter 8**

**A Raving Wizard**

Blaise Apparated home on shaky legs and collapsed. How had he managed pick the one witch
attached by the hip to the Death Eater from hell? Merlin, everyone knew something wasn't right
with Draco. They had known it for years. How the hell did a wizard like that entice a witch like
Ginny? Who cared? The last thing he needed was the raving wizard on his tail.

She never said a thing, never let on that she was even seeing someone, much less that
satanically possessed demon of a former Death Eater. He thought about it for a moment. If he were
in her bloody boots, he would have done the same. That wizard was a walking, talking, spell-casting
death trap. Sooner or later someone worth their weight in Galleons would catch up with him and
<i>Avada</i> his arse six feet under. No wizard on either side would lose any sleep
over that one. They would be too busy breathing a collective sigh of relief.

“Blaise?”

He startled and looked up, never hearing the crack of their Apparation into the foyer. “Mother,
Irwin,” he said, getting to his feet from his elegant bum on the bottom of the grand spiral
staircase.

“What's going on here?”

He followed his mother's line of sight to the pile of dress robes lying on the floor, the
ones he had hastily collected from Ginny's flat. “Nothing.” For a generations-deep Slytherin,
he was a bloody lousy liar where his heart was involved. That particular genetic defect was
strictly paternal in origin.

His mother reached down and swiftly picked through the pile before staring up at him. “Blaise,
these are the things that I selected for your date. Is something wrong?” Was it his imagination or
was his mother's probing nose growing by the yard?

“His date?” his stepfather questioned.

She nodded without taking her eyes off her son. “Yes, his date for the St. Mungos fundraiser.
Ginevra Weasley, isn't it?”

Blaise sighed. “It was, Mother. We're no longer going.”

“What?” Her concerned eyes tried to meet his as she took him by the arm. “What happened? Are you
feeling all right? You look a bit pale.” She ran her hand over his forehead and down his face in
the most annoying fashion. Blaise pulled away.

“She's seeing someone else, that's all.”

His mother's eyes became enraged. “How can that be? The two of you just went to the Ministry
ball a few weeks ago. Whoever he is, he's no competition for you.”

Blaise laughed out loud and shook his head. “I couldn't agree with you more, Mother.
He's out of my league. I've officially stepped aside as I have no desire to go up against
this particular wizard.”

“Nonsense. Who is it? There isn't another young wizard in England who can hold a candle to
you.”

“It's not a candle that I'm worried about,” he muttered before clearing his throat.
“Draco Malfoy, Mother. She's seeing Draco.” Both pairs of parental eyes went wide.

“But he's gone. He fled the country two years ago.” Blaise shrugged his shoulders.

“Are you sure you have the right wizard?” his stepfather asked in an echo of his mother.

“Of course I'm sure. I saw him. He Apparated into Ginny's flat when we were trying on
robes. Needless to say, that didn't go over too well.”

“He didn't try to hurt you, did he?”

“Of course not, Mother. Now, if you will excuse me.” Blaise turned around and exited up the
staircase, making a gallant last effort to flee before she could impale him with her claws and
start a second inquisition. Merlin, he was humiliated enough without her meddling tactics. Just
because she never met a wizard she couldn't track down and feast upon, didn't mean that he
shared her lust for difficult romances.

“Blaise, wait... “ She ran up after him, leaving Irwin with the pile of forgotten robes at the
foot of the staircase.

His stepfather stared at the pile before scooping it up and heading off to his study, leaving
the two to discuss Blaise's failed romance in private. He loved his wife, but all of her
unnecessary coddling turned his stomach.

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

“Mother,” Draco said softly, conjuring a seat by her side. He threw off his hood but left his
gloves on as he settled in. It was bloody freezing in the place. She hated his lack of manners but
loved his platinum locks. It was a fair trade off, given the circumstances.

He never knew what to say when he came to visit. It didn't matter. Even if he never got it
right, she understood. She always understood.

“Happy Birthday, Mother,” he whispered. “I brought you something.” He gave her the huge bouquet
of flowers he'd handpicked from her garden. “It has all your favorites.” Whatever wasn't in
bloom, he charmed to bloom for her. Their sweet scent lingered in the air, injecting an exquisite
slice of spring into the stale winter scene.

“I have something else for you, something you've been asking about.” He reached into his
pocket and pulled out a picture, the one that never left his bedside. “This is Ginny, Mother. I was
going to bring her here for you to meet, but she couldn't make it today. Perhaps another time.”
Nodding in agreement, he spoke again. “Yes, Mother, I think she's beautiful, too.”

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

Three days later when Draco Apparated home late at night, his flat was cold and dark and
radiated emptiness. He sighed, kicked off his boots, threw off his cloak, and kept walking. Yes,
his world was exactly as he remembered it, mired in darkness and hidden excuses and lies. What a
fucking pit.

Of course he didn't turn on any lights. Instead, he headed straight for his bedroom, looking
forward to his merciful nightly dose of unconsciousness.

“Draco?”

He paused at the sound of her voice.

“Draco…wait, please.” Ginny got up off the couch where she had been resting and approached him.
Draco sighed and gathered his weakened breath before turning to her.

“Ginny,” he whispered. When he opened his arms for her, she fell into them with such relief that
she almost knocked the Slytherin over. He didn't give a damn. Instead, he closed his arms
around her and gathered her trembling form to his.

“I'm sorry - “

He shook his head. “Shhh… forget it, Ginny. It doesn't matter.”

“Yes, it does. Let me explain...”

“No, I don't care.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

His finger landed on her lips, silencing her. “That's enough,” he admonished softly. She
nodded, but her nervousness forced more words to tumble out of her mouth, unedited.

“Where've you been?”

He didn't meet her searching gaze this time. “No place.”

“I've been worried sick. Three days? I thought something had happened to you.” Ginny felt
Draco's body shake with cynical laughter as he snorted his dismissal at her concern.

“It was nothing, Ginny. Just some personal business. Please… don't.”

She nodded and fell silent, holding onto him with a death grip usually reserved for a sloth,
grip and roll maneuver, not human contact. “I missed you,” she whispered, running sweet kisses down
the side of his face. This caught his attention.

He leaned over and a kiss on her lightly freckled nose, watching it wrinkle, before throwing his
possessive arm around her waist. “Come on, let's go to bed. I'm exhausted.”

"Draco?" He looked over at her. "I love you."

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

Ginny kissed Draco's remarkably soft cheek, stroked his beautiful face and ran her hands
through his platinum locks over and over again while he slept in her arms. What if something
*had* happened to him? What if she drove him into another woman's arms with her ridiculous
behaviour? What if? What if? What if?

As Draco turned and buried his face in her chest, Ginny shifted her weight to keep her body
flush against his at every contact point she could manage. Personal business? What business? No, he
never spoke about anything outside of their relationship and her life. And she knew he wasn't
involved in the Death Eating insurrection. He wouldn't. But where would he go for three
days?

He interrupted her wild conjectures with his moaning and painful thrashing about on her much
smaller frame. “Shhh…it's okay, Draco. I'm here,” Ginny soothed, stroking his back and
kissing his forehead, settling the Slytherin down. Of course she didn't ask him what he did
during the day when she was at work or on the nights and weekends they spent apart. It had never
been an issue before. But then again, he had never seen her accidentally bare all before another
wizard before, either.

Minutes later, he broke out into a sweat and his breathing became short and erratic. When he
began to vocalize panic and fear, she shook him roughly. “Draco,” she said, her urgent tone growing
louder, “Draco…wake up! You're having another nightmare.”

She jumped with a start when he sat bolt upright, screaming, eyes glazed and wild, looking but
not seeing. Ginny watched him closely, holding her body still, afraid he would lash out at her if
she moved.

His eyes frantically scanned the darkened room while his right hand gripped the non-existent
wand, the one which cast spells only in his dreams. When they fell upon her, his face went soft and
he shook his confused head.

Her arms were instantly around him, cradling him and comforting him. She picked up his wand from
the bedside table and charmed all three windows open to ease his claustrophobia. Draco closed his
eyes and collapsed against the mattress, taking her with him. There were no secrets at night
anymore... or were there? What the hell would she do if she knew what demons kept him awake at
night? She would *Avada* his arse is what she'd do. Either that or something worse,
she'd leave him.

Draco reached out and grabbed onto Ginny with both hands, burying his miserable face in her
delicious warmth. She was his only lifeline in an endless sea of insanity. “I love you, Ginny.
Don't leave me. Don't ever leave me.”

Her concerned eyes watched him tucked against her, torn and broken in some inconsolable way.
“I'll never leave you, Draco. I promise.” She kissed the top of his soft platinum locks,
resting her cheek on them. This wizard not only willingly gave his heart to her, but he was also
bound to her by something more than love. He needed her. She anchored his tenuous world to hers and
guided them both in a world gone mad. “I love you, Draco. Crazy love you until the end.”

-->



9. I Love You, Ginny
--------------------



**Author's Notes:** After much arsing around, I'm back and getting down to business
with this fic. Thanks to Marcia for the spectacular beta. The next chapter will be the last. -
fallenwitch

**Chapter 9**

**I Love You, Ginny**

*Draco held his wand out, straight and steady, and cast the unforgivable killing curse,
watching it fly from the tip of his wand into his father's heart. No, he never saw it coming
and never knew what hit him. As Lucius's body began to fall, a high-pitched sizzle spread from
the point of impact, roaring through the stifling cavern and shaking the meters thick walls with a
tumultuous set of low humming vibrations. One violent shake later, the ground jerked out from under
him.*

*As Draco fell, he grabbed onto his wand with both hands in a death grip, unwilling to lose
the only thing capable of saving his life. A second later, the cavern imploded, sending him flying
through the air, his hands still gripping his precious wand until everything went still and
quiet.*

*He lay there disoriented and gasping for air, extracting what oxygen he could from the
dust-ridden air searing his lungs. His life was being sucked out of him one molecule at a time, but
he had successfully held tight to his wand, the magical gift that would save his life once
again.*

Draco awoke confused and gasping for air as he hung onto his non-existent wand. He felt her
silent struggle before he saw it. Looking down, his hands were locked around Ginny's neck,
strangling the life out of her. She was no longer pummelling him with her hands and feet. She was
too weak for that. Her face was flush and held a lethal bluish tint. Her eyes were fixed on his,
wet with fear and pleading. Fuck!

"Ginny!"

He released her and watched her body collapse. She rolled over onto her stomach and took her
first lifesaving breath, both hands clutching her chest, eyes watering. She took one gasping breath
after another, coughing and sputtering as her frantic lungs spasmed in deoxygenated terror.

Draco was at her side, sick and helpless, one incantation away from St. Mungos even as her
struggle eased. His eyes were focused on her body as it relaxed and rolled over. She was no longer
clutching her chest or wheezing. Sitting up, she pushed her tangled mane of crimson out of her
face.

Before she could speak, Draco snatched her precious life form to his, crying his incoherent and
heartsick apology over and over again. He was hysterical with fear and grief and unable to tolerate
the thought of his insanity snuffing out her life. Rocking her back and forth, he would not loosen
his hold on her or let her go.

"No, Draco…don't…it's okay. I'm okay."

He shook his head. Her soothing touch was on him, comforting him as he fell into her lap,
clutching her waist, too distraught to move.

He lay in a heap, unable to move, as the enormity of the danger continued to filter in, leaving
its murky stain on his already blighted consciousness. Ginny laid down next to Draco and pulled his
frightened frame to her, cradling him in her arms. Draco closed his eyes and listened to the
rhythmic beating of her heart and her slow, comfortable breathing over and over again, reassuring
himself that her life force was indeed intact on this side of that damn veil.

How many times had he had that wretched dream lying side-by-side with her? How many times had he
unknowingly put her life at risk? Her life wasn't a game he cared to gamble on. He couldn't
even love her in an appropriate fashion. What kind of miserable, worthless excuse for a wizard was
he? Hell, he had been castrated years ago and was just getting around to figuring it out. What a
fucking joke.

*"Lumos."*

Minutes later, Draco held Ginny's throat in his hands as he examined the fresh, red bruises
which mirrored his hands and formed a grotesque circle around the translucent skin of her neck. He
held her protesting hands at bay and ignored her verbal admonishments.

"Stop fussing, Draco, honestly. It's nothing."

"Dear god," he murmured, wanting to close his eyes and shut out the horror of his
actions, but he wouldn't allow himself that fantasy. Not tonight. "I nearly killed
you." As his wand traced the telltale circle around her throat, he whispered the same healing
incantation over and over again, vanishing bruise after bruise. But there was no spell for the
horror inflicted on his heart.

Ginny wiggled as Draco's wand sent a warm, tickling sensation over every inch of her throat,
finally letting out a giggle and whacking his wand aside. "That tickles," she admonished.
He glowered at her.

"Well, it's not funny, Gin. Not even close." She nodded at the pain in his voice
and the anguish in his eyes and held out her throat for him again. Several minutes and one minor
explosion of giggles later, all visible traces of the event were gone. Draco cast off the light,
took Ginny into his sick, guilt-ridden arms and contemplated cutting off his own hands.

"Draco?"

"Hmm?"

"What do you keep dreaming about?" she asked, not looking into his eyes or his face
but keeping her chin on his shoulder instead. When he failed to respond to her, she put a
reassuring hand on the back of his head and soothed his platinum locks between her fingers.
"It's okay," she said softly. "You don't have to answer."

Draco stared out into the darkness enveloping their world and sighed. "Death. I dream about
death."

"Your death?"

He let out a gentle snort. "No, not my death. If it were my death, there wouldn't be
anything more to dream about, would there?" One elegant hand slipped around the back of her
head, his cheek against hers, each looking in opposite directions.

"Whose death?"

"I love you, Ginny," he whispered.

"Who do you dream about?" When she attempted to draw away from him and look into his
eyes, he held her firm with his hand on the back of her head.

"I dream about you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"I don't understand."

"I dream about killing your family, Ginny."

"What?"

"Your father and your mother and your brother, Bill. I killed them all."

"You what?" Ginny's eyes went wide as she struggled to understand what he was
saying. She found herself unable to wrap her mind around his words. Her brain kept slipping on the
slick surface, playing tricks on her.

"I killed them all."

"No," she protested in a stunned whisper, "No." Ginny felt Draco release
her. When she leaned back to stare at him, he didn't look away, but his pale grey eyes went
dark. "You couldn't have been the wizard in that cavern," she reasoned out loud.
"Your father was killed there as well." She heard him let out a weary sigh as he stared
at her denial.

"I killed him, too. And my mother six months later." He could see Ginny slowly backing
away from him with horror and revulsion filling her eyes. No, he didn't try to stop her. What
was the point? She never should have stumbled across his hell-bound soul in the first place.

"Why?" she asked, snatching up her wand, her terrified eyes never leaving him.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I loved you, Ginny. I've always loved you."

Grabbing her Muggle coat, she hugged it to her chest. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I," he said, placing his wand aside. He remained unarmed on his bed as she
stumbled backwards, toward the door.

"Why aren't you in Azkaban?"

He snorted at this and shook his head. "Bad luck. Ask Potter, why don't you? He decided
to stick his Gryffindor nose into my business years ago." 



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

Where the hell was he? She continued banging on his door with both fists, while cursing under
her breath. Since when did he become a heavy sleeper? Was he getting a bit soft now that the War
was over? She was about to Apparate into his bedroom, nighttime guests or not, when the door
cracked open, wand first. Then she heard his disgruntled groan.

"Merlin, Ginny, do you know what time it is?" The door swung fully open as an
exasperated and freshly awoken war hero stood and glared at her through his glasses, askew as
ever.

"It's an emergency, Harry," she said, brushing past him on her way inside.

"Come on in," he said, watching her back disappear into the kitchen. He sighed and
shut the door, charming it locked again, seven different times. "Tea?" he called out
before he walked into the kitchen and saw her pouring him a cup of her brew. He slumped down into
the chair across from her, waiting for her biscuits. The witch could conjure a hell of a biscuit,
and that was the least she could do for him at this ungodly hour of the morning.

She watched him chewing on her biscuits, waiting for his irritation to ease. "Good?"
she asked. He nodded, mouth too full to speak. She slipped another one on his plate, for
insurance.

"What's up?" he asked, taking another sip of tea, trying to rouse his still
sleeping mind.

"Did Draco Malfoy kill Mum and Dad and Bill? If so, why didn't he go to
Azkaban?"

Harry spit out his half swallowed sip of tea, coughing and choking and almost landing his once
eaten biscuits topside again. Ginny casually cast a "*Scourgefy"* or two and
refilled his cup of tea.

Harry wiped his mouth on his pajama sleeve and looked up at her. "Where did that come
from?" Ginny stared at him, eyes steady. "Malfoy?" When she nodded, Harry shook his
head. "Merlin, Ginny, he's not back in the country again, is he?" She nodded again.
"You're not seeing him. Are you?" When she nodded a third time, Harry drew in a swift
breath and collapsed onto the table, burying his head in his arms.

"Stop it, Harry," Ginny admonished, swatting him impatiently. "I need answers,
not opinions. I don't care what you think about my personal life. If I cared, I would have
asked for your permission, wouldn't I?" Harry peeked up between his arms.

"You never could get him out of your system, could you?"

Ginny sighed, "Please, Harry, don't. This isn't about us. This is about Mum and Dad
and Bill. I know you know something."

He sat up and pushed his glasses on straight. "You want me to divulge Ministry secrets so
you can carry on with Malfoy?"

"Since when did you develop such a love for the law?"

"Since you walked in the door with Malfoy on your heart, that's when." He was
about to add something about her knickers but thought better of it.

Ginny stood and slammed her fist down on the table. "Fine. If you won't help me,
I'll get the information myself." Harry, being Harry, had his hand around her wrist before
she could even reach for her wand. He was still the fastest.

"No, you won't. Sit down. Just give me a second, will you?" Harry gave her arm a
firm tug, and she sat, watching as he threw his head back against the chair and stared at the
ceiling. "What do you want to know?"

"Did he kill Mum and Dad and Bill or not?" How many times did she have to ask the
bloody question?

"Yes and no."

"Harry, you either kill someone or you don't. You can't be a little
pregnant."

"Right. Then, no, he didn't kill them."

"Harry," she was tugging on his sleeve, trying to get him to look at her. When he
refused to budge, she stood up and walked around, looking down into his eyes. "Harry,
you're not making any sense."

"What else do you want to know?"

She sighed. "How did Lucius Malfoy die?"

"Draco Avada'd him in the cavern."

"He did? "Why didn't he go to Azkaban?"

Harry sighed and sat up, dropping his head into his hand. "Because I went before the
Wizengamot and told them the truth, that's why. Draco was never anything more than a pawn in
Voldemort's game. He's no more evil than you or I, just a bit weak in the gut."

Ginny nodded and sat back down. "How did that keep him out of Azkaban?"

"He destroyed the 6th Horcrux and pointed me to the 7th, that's how."

"Why didn't you ever say anything? Why doesn't the whole wizarding world know about
it?"

Harry laughed, looking up at her. "Believe me, Gin, plenty of people know about it. And
half of them want him dead for it. He's no fool. Why do you think he went into
hiding?"

"He gave me the impression that he wanted to go to Azkaban, that he would have preferred it
that way."

"Wouldn't you if you killed your father and your mother committed suicide as a result
of it? What does he have left out here? He's a traitor to both sides and a conspirator to
Dumbledore's murder, all blackmail aside. That kind of behavior doesn't buy you a lot of
friends."

"Why did he tell me he killed Mum and Dad and Bill if he didn't?"

"Because he did, but not intentionally. He thought Lucius was going to kill your mother so
Malfoy Avada'd him while Bill was trying to take down the wards surrounding the 6th Horcrux.
That spell caused the wards to implode the cavern, keeping the Horcrux safe but killing everyone
inside. It was a quirk of luck that kept Malfoy alive."

"How do you know all of this? Did he tell you this?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Not voluntarily, anyway. I used Veritaserum on him, with
Ministry approval, of course, while he was in Azakaban. I had a hunch about the 6th Horcrux but no
proof. When I went for that information, everything that went on in the cavern came out as well. He
destroyed the 6th Horcrux after the implosion. I didn't think he had it in him but he figured
it out. That's how he got out of Azkaban. He earned his way out - paid for with his sanity and
half his soul, or so I'm told."

Ginny sat there staring at Harry. He knew. He knew all along, and yet he never said a blasted
thing to her about it.

"Why?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I was sworn to secrecy by Malfoy. He never told me why, but I
figured it had something to do with you. Now that he's told you himself, I have no obligation
to keep it from you any longer."

Ginny knew Harry kept a million secrets, and that he meant no malice or harm by it. She nodded
and put her hand on his arm.

"Thanks, Harry."

"Be careful, Gin. Not only is he a little unbalanced, but he's also got the worst of
the wizarding world out to kill him as well. Call me if you need me." She nodded. "And
Ginny... "

"Yes?"

"Let me come over and put an iron lock on your wards for you, alright?" Ginny nodded,
leaned over, and kissed Harry on the cheek. Harry wrapped his arm around her and held on a moment
too long.

"Don't worry, Harry, honestly. I'm fine."

Then the witch, who was foolish enough to be shagging the most wanted wizard in the world,
Disapparated from his view a moment later.

-->



10. An Illusion
---------------



**Author's Notes:**


*The Slytherin's Witch* is now complete. I would like to dedicate this final chapter to
Black Alnair, whose friendship and snarky sense of humour have sustained me during dark and good
times.


A special thank you to Marcia, my beta, for her unwavering support and guidance in fic and in
life. We did it.


A complete archive of all my fic can be found at we3sisters (http://community.livejournal.com/we3sisters/profile),
along side that of my two talented friends Black Alnair and Peki. Please join us for great fic and
lively discussions. You don't need to be a member of Live Journal to access our ficjournal!


Last but not least, thank you to my wonderful readers who have encouraged me along the way. I
hope you enjoy this last fling with *The Slytherin's Witch*. - fallenwitch


**Chapter 10**

**An Illusion**

(8:30 a.m. the following morning)

Draco stared at the ceiling of his claustrophobic prison cell, refusing to rise out of bed and
face a future without her. His half-packed trunk sat in disarray in the middle of the room. He was
a miserable bastard, but despite the well-deserved misery, unexpected relief flooded his weary
soul.

She knew. And now that she knew, the game was over, as were his dreams.

He was no fool. He knew what he was to her. He was an illusion. When she looked at him and
touched him and whispered his name, she wasn't looking at him or touching him or whispering his
name. She was looking at the wizard she remembered and loved, the one who died years ago in that
wretched cavern, never to be resurrected, only exhumed. Despite this, he could not let her go.

Too weak to let go, too terrified to tell the truth, Draco hung on until the duality of his
existence and his untold truths began to destroy him. He was dying beneath the weight of his lies
and his addiction to her. Nothing built of such rotting and precarious pillars can survive long
survive, much less flourish.

He never questioned the inevitability of their ending, only the moment. It arrived when his
crazy world wrapped its hands around her neck, almost killing her. As she lay gasping for breath,
he found the strength to do what he could not do during the previous ten months - to tell her the
truth.

His great revelation had come with an unexpected twist, one he had not anticipated. Whether or
not she returned to him, he needed to leave her. If he didn't, he might one day kill her, and
despite the multitude of sins on his hands, that was one neither he nor his soul would survive.

Draco jumped to his feet at the sound of uninvited guests outside his bedroom door. Brandishing
his wand, he crept across the room and toward the door. It had been awhile since someone had taken
the time to try and kill him.

A second later, they were nose-to-nose with his wand at her throat, half a curse out of his
mouth.

"Merlin, Ginny, *don't* do that," he admonished sharply, tucking his wand
away. She knew better than to show up unannounced. What the hell was she doing back again? He ran a
frustrated hand through his hair. Did she have some sort of death wish?

She didn't say a thing. Instead, she stared at him the way she always stared at him, and he
felt his heart explode in pained relief.

"Ginny," he cried. His misery and his salvation were wrapped up in that word. His
whole life was that word. Despite his best intentions, Draco could not stop himself. He rushed to
take her into his arms.

That was when he felt the business end of her wand in his ribcage. This, of course, was the
other reason she was here.

"Go on," he sighed, backing off." Get it over with. I'd recommend a swift
Arvada Kedavra except you'd risk Azkaban. There are other ways of killing someone as I'm
sure you're aware."

Her eyes widened as his narrowed. Then her saw her companion out of the edge of his peripheral
vision.

Draco dove for cover, reaching for his wand as she cast the killing curse on him.

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

(9:30 am)

Ginny crawled out of bed and stumbled across her flat to stop the loud, persistent banging on
her front door. Throwing open the door, she winced at the early morning light before shielding her
eyes.

"Merlin, Harry, did you have to come here at the crack? It's not a bloody
emergency," she groaned, leaning against the door in her nightgown, her hair a dishevelled
mess.

"Morning, Ginny," he said, staring at her for a several long moments before swooping
down to kiss her cheek. Then he brushed past her and into her flat.

She yawned and closed the door. "Come on in."

When she turned around, Harry was poking his nose into every room in the place, looking in
cupboards and peeking behind curtains, his wand drawn. Ginny went back to her bedroom, crawled into
bed and pulled up the bedcovers.

"Ginny - "

She looked up at him, sleep in her eyes and her bones.

"When you said you were going to secure my wards, I didn't think you meant this bloody
morning," she said, snuggling in deeper, trying to find her previous comfortable spot.

Harry smiled, remembering their conversation from the previous night. This was his Ginny. He
leaned over and landed a grateful kiss on her cheek, getting a sleepy smile in return.

"I'm not here to check the wards. An hour ago the Ministry got notice of a magical
disturbance involving a series of killing curses. We traced it to Malfoy's flat."

"What?" Ginny sat bolt upright, clutching the bedcovers to her chest.

"Someone tried to kill Malfoy this morning," he repeated. "And it looks like they
used Polyjuice Potion to do it."

"Polyjuice Potion?"

"There's a dead witch and a dead wizard in his flat. I had to make sure that you're
alright. Why don't you come with me to my house for the time being, until we get this mess
straightened out? You'll be safe there."

"Where's Draco? Is he alright?" Her hands were gripping the lapels on Harry's
robes, pulling him to within an inch of her terrified eyes.

"I don't know. He's gone. He was gone when we got there."

"Gone? Gone where?"

"I don't know. No one knows."

Ginny shoved Harry aside and jumped out of bed, rushing to change her clothes. Harry turned his
back and continued talking.

"It doesn't look like a kidnapping. It has all the earmarks of an assassination
attempt. We've got people out looking for him, but it's Malfoy. If he doesn't want to
be found, we won't find him. Our forensic team is down there now. As soon as I get a report,
I'll let you know what - "

*"CRACK!"*

Harry spun around and she was gone, the sound of her Disapparation stinging his ears. Swearing
under his breath, Harry withdrew his wand and Disapparated right behind her.

Ginny landed in Draco's flat and took a fast look around before heading for his bedroom.

"Ginny? Ginny!"

Neville was calling her from the end of the hallway, a startled look on his face. When he saw
that she was about to step into the bedroom, he came running toward her.

"No, Ginny, don't!" he yelled. "Don't go in there!"

Harry Apparated in as Neville threw himself in front of Ginny, trying to block her entrance into
Draco's bedroom.

"Don't be ridiculous, Neville. I know what's in there. Harry's already told
me."

"Let her go, Neville," Harry said, pulling Neville out of Ginny's path.

"No!" Neville protested, yanking his arm out of Harry's hand.

"Neville, let her go. That's an order," Harry growled.

Neville glared at Harry but let Ginny pass. After she stepped into the bedroom, Harry leaned
over and said to Neville, "She needs to see this. She needs to know who he is, and what
he's capable of."

Ginny stood in the centre of their bedroom, peering over a corpse. She had witnessed death many
times during the War but never her own death. She lay in a crumpled heap, her head at an odd angle,
her dark eyes wide and staring. A torrent of blood had spewed over her robes and her corpse and the
room. Her throat had been splayed open from side to side.

The metallic scent of blood seeped into her nose, through her lungs and wrapped around her
heart, squeezing it until the room began to spin and her knees bucked and the back of her throat
filled with bile. Ginny reached out to hold onto something, but there was nothing to hold onto.

"Ginny, are you alright?" Harry asked as he entered the room with Neville one step
behind.

She didn't hear him. All she heard was the sound of her own heart shattering. She was
unconscious before her body hit the ground. He had killed her.

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

Three weeks later the Ministry lifted its restricted wards, and Ginny Apparated into Draco's
flat, wand in hand. It was no longer a crime scene. The crime had been solved. The mastermind
behind the assassination attempt was Irwin Hale, Blaise's stepfather and a former Death Eater.
He concocted his Polypotion Potion with hair gleaned from the robes Ginny had tried on with Blaise
for the St. Mungos' Ball. His accomplice, Lillian Wolf, also a former Death Eater, took the
potion, which allowed them to slip past the wards and into Draco's flat. Their attempt to kill
him was unsuccessful. At least that was the official version.

Ginny made her way through his flat, stepping over fallen chairs and righting an upturned side
table. He hadn't returned and no one had been able to track him down. With no charges filed
against him, everyone stopped looking a week ago when the Ministry determined it was a case of
self-defence.

Stopping shy of his bedroom doorway, Ginny noticed for the first time the door was blown off at
the hinges. She stepped inside. A Ministry administered Veritaserum test cleared Blaise of any
involvement in the crime. Hale had used him to get to Ginny and through her, to Draco. It was a
simple path, one older than time.

Blood stains covered the room. Ginny bent down to examine the pattern of blood on the floor,
touching a second dried puddle of crimson so dark it looked black. A forensic analysis of the blood
found at the flat determined that it belonged to all three parties, Draco and Hale and Wolf. Was
this collection Draco's? How injured was he?

Was he dangerous?Harry thought so, and many agreed with his assessment. Yes, Draco suffered from
the aftershocks of various traumas during the War, but didn't they all?

Ginny ran her hand through the fine clothes in his closet, alive with his glorious scent, and
buried her face in his favourite jumper, wrapping her arms around it. It hung against her lifeless
and cold. It didn't wrap its arms around her or hold her in that bliss of Slytherin warmth she
craved.

Where was he?

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

Six weeks later, he stood outside in the pouring rain, leaning on a gold tipped cane, watching
the windows in her flat. They lit up one at a time as her shadow moved from room to room.

Ginny sat down at the small kitchen table, pulled out a bottle of Firewhisky and a glass
tumbler. She had gone to his flat and his favourite Muggle watering holes many times with no luck.
He was gone.

What was a witch to do? She promised she would never leave him, yet he never promised her the
same. There was no finding this wizard if he didn't want to be found.

Ginny took a long, slow sip then closed her eyes, shutting out the world she resented, the one
that had taken him from her again.

Outside her window, thunderous clapping hid the quiet sound of his Disapparation out of her
life.

----- Fin -----

-->