Unofficial Portkey Archive

Fallen Angel

Chapter 06

Draco laughed in a rather flirtatious way, hugging his knees to his chest as he had become accustomed to doing in the last month to be able to hold his toes and keep them warm. Accompanying him was Christina's laugh, just as teasing and light. Draco's hair was now about an inch long, and utterly straight, so it stuck up every which way in choppy, chunky pieces. A comb might have done him good and tamed it some, but that was not a luxury he was extended, and he knew -having had this hair his whole life- nothing but length and liberal amounts of styling product would make it lay nice anyways. It was pretty stubborn, as many a witch or wizard's hair tended to be.

"You're making fun of me," he accused while still laughing, despite even the terrible gloom that still cast its foul dread upon them, leftover from those accursed Dementors. Company, and happy memories, helped stave off such murk, Christina and Draco were each the other's refuge.

"I would never dare tease a werewolf," she giggled, Draco tilting his head down bashfully but smiling too. "My little fair-haired boy," she sighed, tilting her head against the bars. "You were popular with the girls at Hogwarts, I can tell," she said, sounding absolutely certain in this as she stared at him with her always hooded eyes, eyes that always looked hungry for something, eyes that always seemed to find themselves on him.

Draco sucked on his bottom lip while examining his toes.

"I was too much of a stuck-up prat to be so popular," he admitted, being dismissive towards her flattery.

"Oh, come now," she pressed.

"No, honestly. I know girls thought I was charming, but in that `he is such a bastard,' kind of way that didn't get me very far, there being too many self-respecting girls in attendance."

"Surely you had your following."

"One, and I wanted nothing more than for her to find a new object of obsession and leave me be," he said, laughing again by the time he was nearly finished.

"I'm sure she was tolerable enough, you got what you wanted from her at least, right?" she asked and Draco blinked at her.

"Excuse me?" he asked, rather bewildered.

"You know, you got a little action in at least, right? It made her worth the hassle, maybe even made her enjoyable?" she asked as though she couldn't imagine what she was trying to say could be any more obvious. Draco realized what she was implying and his eyes widened just a touch and he blushed in an unmistakable way.

Christina looked at Draco in a knowing fashion for a second before bemusement broke across her face.

"Oh, oh," she said, looking up. "You are virginal," she said and Draco blushed, damn it, he blushed deeply. "Oh god that is so precious!" she gushed, slapping her hands together in a sort of enthusiastic praise.

"I really don't think it is that big of a deal," he said, trying to be dismissive again, this time as a means of hiding his embarrassment rather than just being modest.

"I think it is," she said, a little more solemnly now.

"Why?"

"Because 10 to 20 years in this place, as a virgin? Forgive me, but that fucking sucks," she said and Draco considered her words for a second. He hadn't really thought about it in that way before. Not yet at least, though the situation would have struck him at one point or another. He had blown his chance to share himself with Ginny, and now it looked like it was just going to be him and his hand for…a long time.

Christina looked at Draco and tilted her head.

"My fair-haired boy," she said and he looked up at her. "Don't let what I said get you down. Virginity is an asset, one with a value that only grows with time. You know, like stinky cheese," she teased at that last.

"Like a fine wine? I don't see how."

"Someone is going to see you as positively delicious because you are…unspoiled," she said, Draco missing the intensity in her eyes because he was looking at his toes again.

"Maybe for a lass it has some kind of allure, but for a chap, I think it just comes across as being pathetic more than anything."

"Don't say that," she comforted, moving up and closes to the bars as she could. "I think you are special, unlike any gentleman I have met before. I like you," she said, looking him up and down, which wasn't difficult with his balled up like he was.

Draco looked over at her.

"I hope that wasn't too forward, I don't mean to make you uncomfortable," she said, not looking all that uncomfortable herself, or apologetic. "I just think you should appreciate your value, for what it is, not what you wish you could be," she said and Draco took in her words -her wise words- about pride, but found them difficult to swallow given where he was at the moment.

Draco batted his eyes bashfully and grinned down.

"I certainly like you, if I may be so bold," he said, waiting for her to laugh at him, always teasing and making fun of him, but when he looked up, he just saw a look of deep satisfaction seep into her expression, orange ringlets falling across her face to spring against her slowly moving ginger eyelashes.

Draco groaned and rolled over, disoriented by his memory and feeling someone holding him to their front, unsure of whom it was. It couldn't have been Clarissa -his mind slowly coming into focus- she was so tiny when snuggled up to him, and the roundness to his back was evidence of a full tummy between them. Draco breathed a satisfied sigh and reached up to hold her hands that held him.

Ginny stirred and rolled some, and Draco seized the opportunity to free himself from her embrace. He was so tired, so exhausted, and that night being the change left a weight looming over him that made him sluggish and sore, but he got up regardless. He limped over to his cane that was standing propped up against the dresser and leaned on it with a sigh, this time of ease.

In the dark he made his way over to the vanity in the corner which once belonged to his mother, that was primarily Ginny's now but Draco encroached upon quite a bit, and sat there. His wedding ring was amongst its cluttered top, and he looked at it for a long moment before picking it up and admiring it. It was his father's old band, and his great grandfather's before him. Inside was some kind of Latin, too worn to be read anymore, Draco knowing is was some kind of declaration to love and honor forever. Looking at it Draco thought of Christina, and what she had said to him in that most recent recollection of his. She had said much the same as his therapist had, which was to love himself for exactly who he was. Knowing he needed to work on that, he slipped the ring back on, feeling less naked with it in place. He wasn't ready to be without it. Even if it didn't have any special significance, to be without something that has been worn for more than twelve years so suddenly does leave one lacking. He was ready to try and move past his wife, because he loved Ginny so much, but he wasn't ready for forget the woman that had meant so much to him, who had taught him so much.

Now just sitting there with hands in his lap, Draco thought about brushing his hair, thought about putting some lotion on his dry hands, but just stared at his reflection. Nude and thin he just sat there, and leaned in. The glass shone on its own accord when someone sat before it, so his skin looked as pale and shallow as ever under its harshness, and he couldn't help but notice how tired, thin, and ill he looked. Shadows were created in the hollows of his cheeks to make them seem sunken in…more than usual, his eyes were so pale that the darkness under them seemed intense by contrast, and if his collarbones stuck out any more, they would burst through the skin. He leaned in further and with only his ring fingers he delicately touched the soft skin below his eyes, gently lifting it up so that it sagged just a little less, making him look just a little less tired, and a little younger.

"Dre?" Ginny asked quietly, taking a deep breath, obviously just waking and able to know where he was by the glow coming from the vanity.

He sighed deeply. "More lines on my face," he said, voice raw sounding, pulling his hands away slightly to let everything fall back into place. "Where could they possibly come from?" he asked.

Ginny rolled out of bed while pulling a silken robe on in the same motion; she was tying it about herself as she approached. Draco tilted his head towards her and nuzzled her hand against his cheek as she rested one on each of his shoulders.

"They are laugh lines, luv," she whispered into his ear as she leaned down.

"Laugh lines?"

"And smile lines, right here," she said, leaning down and around his cheek to kiss the corner of his mouth.

"When do I ever smile?"

"Mmm, last night," she purred, rubbing her nose against his ear then.

"I feel old," he sighed, looking away from the mirror.

"You are not old; you are a year older than I."

"That doesn't change how my body feels," he said, now staring at his cane.

"You know how I feel?" she asked, barely a breath in his ear.

"Hmm?"

"Lucky," she said, Draco turning to look at her. "Last night was wonderful…I still can't quite feel my toes," she said, a glow about her that had very little to do with the mirror beside them. Draco blushed in a bashful sort of way and smiled. "Ah, see?" she said, tilting his chin up. "Smile lines," she said, kissing the corner of his eye then as though to show the skin there love that Draco could not.

Draco grabbed Ginny's face in his hands and pulled her down into a soft kiss, just a press of lips at first, but slowly worked it into a still slow but more thorough kiss. He pulled away just a breath so he could tease the tip of her nose with his and smile at her -little lines forming in the corners of his eyes- foreheads leaned towards one another.

"I love you," he assured, Ginny closing her eyes to bask in the glow of Draco's affections.

"I know," she whispered, grabbing and gently pulling on his bottom lip with her teeth. He smiled at that and allowed her to pull him standing by his hands and walk with him, still lip locked, towards the bed. He was sore, and his hip would not have any of this, but he ignored it as he fell into the white sheets with Ginny.

What was romantic last night was a mess this late morning. The roses that had hung above them had dropped many of their peddles onto the sheets, which were torn about, half off the bed, draped to the floor in silken falls of white. Candles had spilled their wax from being knocked over in Draco and Ginny's…vigor…and the wax now clung to the still unfinished floor, the preposterously expensive sheets, and even just a little in Ginny's hair on the one side where the ends had been dragged through it at some point when she had flipped her hair around.

Draco found himself below Ginny; soft yellow peddles sliding to gather against him in the divot he made in the bedding, Ginny still robed but looming over him, her lips playing across his. Draco allowed himself to get lost in the moment, until just trying to move caused a sharp pain to shoot down his leg and rip his face from hers to look away and hiss softly.

"Oh, are you…?" Ginny asked, fearful she had somehow hurt him without realizing it. She hadn't been handling him rough, so she hadn't even considered it, bit she did weigh more now...

"My hip," he said simply, looking at her and through eye contact they were able to silently agree that the mood was kind of dead at that point. "Forgive me," he muttered timidly, allowing her to slide off him and sit on the mattress, him rolling to just hug her around the middle and place his face on her lap which he had to share, of course, with their baby in her belly.

"It's not your fault, it's the day of the full, and we were up all night."

"Not all night…"

"All night," she giggled and Draco couldn't help but glow himself a little with pride and satisfaction despite the pain he was in.

"What should I get you for breakfast?" she said and he breathed out loudly then. "Don't give me that, you are going to eat something, so what will it be?" she said, still soft speaking, threat heavy despite it.

"Can I not eat later?" he whined, pouting, snuggling close, using his tactics to get his way.

"You can if you like, but you are still going to eat now," she said, refusing to fall victim to Draco's devices.

Draco sighed again, then whined wordlessly, and hugged her a little tighter, and murmured more inaudible whines.

"Well?"

"Hotcakes?" he asked, and she smiled, stroking his hair across her lap.

"That what you would like?"

"Strawberries," he then added and Ginny smiled, nodding and leaning down to kiss his temple and scoot out from under him.

"Alright," she said, adjusting her robe so that it was fully covering and tied securely. "I will be back with them, you rest up until then," she said, already closing the door behind her to leave Draco laying there, breathing a little more shallowly from the hurt now that she was not in his presence. He wasn't sure he would be able to keep food down, not with the amount of pain he was in at the moment.

Ginny made her way down the stairs, the many stairs, slowly. She was thinking about checking on the children on her way, but the house was so quiet, she knew them to be asleep still. She would make Draco his breakfast, letting them sleep a little longer.

In the basement of the house, the kitchen sat alone but not as dark as it was in her memories of the place as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix. Electric light and cleaned windows that peeped out and were level with the street helped significantly. Ginny shuffled in there to find Narcissa already up, as was to be anticipated, and dressed, as was to be expected. Ginny stood there in her robe and felt underdressed, as always Mrs. Malfoy able to seem condescending without even a word spoken, as though just by her contrast she was able to accurately indicate the difference in their upbringing.

"Good morning, Mum," Ginny said brightly, despite the awkwardness between them still, plenty of warm feelings there too. Narcissa was "Mum" now because, well, Ginny was the new mother of Draco's brood, and she -Narcissa- demanded that she be "Mum". Ginny didn't mind, it helped her feel like a real member of the family and not just "the girlfriend" and mother to bastard child number three.

"Good morning, Ginny dear," Narcissa replied, in the middle of making herself some tea. "I was thinking I would be the only one out of bed today," she said leisurely, tones curt but not out of coldness, it was just how she spoke. Her hair was still long, Ginny had discovered, but one would not have guessed by how meticulously she tucked it up into a French twist of a bun. It was silver now, with a singular styled curl -like a swoosh- across her forehead. She looked glamorous, and still youthful, elegant and stylish, though a little stiff.

"I came down to make Draco something to eat. He has been loosing weight again, even if he hasn't said anything about it. I can tell."

"He has always struggled to keep weight on. I could stuff that boy with sweets to the point where any other child would be portly and their teeth would be falling out of their heads, but not my Angel. He was skinny as a house-elf and it worried me so. I took him to doctors and Healers all the time, they said he was healthy enough," she said and Ginny smiled at Narcissa's back, knowing Narcissa had been the kind of mother who feared her son had caught every disease imaginable at one point or another. It was no mystery as to why Draco was so timid over so many things now; his mother had convinced him since he was small that any venture could lead to illness or sudden death, and nothing could fully break him of that it seemed. As it was, he was legitimately allergic to many things -she had discovered- which only seemed to compound certain problems with him.

"He worries me," Ginny sighed, her smile wilting after only a brief moment.

"It's best not to, as easy as it would be to do so, because it won't fix anything. But you, dear, should be in bed. I can bring Angel, and you, something to eat," she said.

"For someone who lectures against the futility of worrying, you worry a lot," Ginny pointed out, though good naturedly. Narcissa just glanced over at her in a sharp way, like a bird of prey, but it wasn't harsh, just lacking a lot of humor. "I'm alright."

"But that baby needs you to rest," Narcissa said, looking at the swell that was her third grandchild. She still had mixed feelings over her baby having yet another unplanned baby, but she couldn't help but be supportive. She felt babies were a blessing, and wished she had been able to experience it herself more than just once.

"I feel quite alright, and the baby is not moving about, so I know he or she is fine for the moment," she said, knowing that as the dusk approached the baby would fret about a whole lot. There was a real danger with the umbilical cord getting wrapped around the neck, so Ginny would have Hermione there -a certified Healer- to monitor things, Ginny unable to go to a hospital seeing as how no one knew she was even pregnant yet.

"My dear…"

"No worrying, remember?" Ginny pointed out and Narcissa sighed. "How about you help me with the hotcakes, for Angel," Ginny said, knowing Narcissa needed something proactive to do to keep herself from fretting, and using "Angel" because it tore at Narcissa's heartstrings. He was her little angel, no matter what bad things he had done in the past.

"That is what he asked for?"

"And strawberries, I believe we have some. That syrup stuff with the bits of strawberry in it that he loves so very much has kept, right?" Ginny asked, moving over to the refrigerator and opening it, leaning in to look.

"When are the two of you going to announce your pregnancy?" Narcissa asked and Ginny sighed, closing the door. "I don't mean to be a nag about it, you know how I loath repeating myself, but honestly, you are not getting any less pregnant by the day, and the complications you are risking by not seeking proper help and care with this are greater than your privacy at this point," she argued.

"I am willing to announce it, Mum, I really am…but Draco is still reluctant. I don't know what it is that he fears so, and you know how he doesn't talk about such things," she sighed.

"For the baby's sake, he will forgive you if you went out and got the help you need. That support chap Draco sees can't help you through the delivery," she said and Ginny nodded. Ginny and Draco's secret was known by none outside the family but one, and that was Draco's Support Wizard Marcus Belby. Draco had turned to him, because he hadn't anywhere else to go in this matter and knew he couldn't handle it alone. He needed Marcus' knowledge and resources. He needed the Wolfsbane for Ginny to ingest; he needed someone who understood the development of a baby werewolf. Marcus had been reluctant to keep this a secret, and neither Draco nor Ginny could go to him without him pleading them to stop trying to conceal this, but he helped them still. At risk of losing his own job he helped them because, unlike most people, he saw the value of a werewolf's life, even if it was yet to be born.

"I can't deny that I too am frightened," Ginny said softly.

"Draco is frightened, you need to be strong."

"It's exhausting to have to be the strong one all the time," Ginny said, tone a little snippy.

"As a Malfoy woman, you will see, it is just how it is," Narcissa said solemnly, never speaking of her late husband and Ginny not pressing, but getting the message loud and clear: being strong is just what came with being a Mrs. Malfoy. It meant a lot to Ginny to have Narcissa consider her a Malfoy woman. She didn't say anything, because Narcissa would deny it all, but Ginny knew the woman liked her a whole lot more than she ever allowed herself to show.

Narcissa was already well into making Draco's breakfast and Ginny was left feeling needless.

"I think I will check on the children," she announced, Narcissa turning to see Ginny already walking away.

"I will have you in bed within the hour, young lady, so work out those restless legs now, while you can," she called after her in warning, Ginny's feet all that was left in view at that point. "Oh, my poor babies," Narcissa sighed, meaning everyone in the house at that point. They were all her babies, and oh how she worried over them despite her own rationality telling her it was futile.

Ginny climbed and climbed until she reached Michelangelo's room. She softly knocked on the door three times and waited, but got no response.

"Michael?" she called through the door softly, trying the knob and finding it locked. He was probably sleeping.

Turning, Ginny decided she would see Clarissa first, and come back to see if she could rouse Michelangelo in a few minutes.

"Claire? Sweetie?" Ginny asked, knocking on the door as she slowly opened it.

Inside, pink was overwhelming. The room, which had once sported the proud colors of Slytherin and had belonged to Regulus Black, had been repainted to look like some kind of fairytale-scape of pink and glitter. Draco had spent meticulous hours with Clarissa and her -Ginny- in that room, painting it together. Clarissa had pale pink walls with white wood trimmings, but one wall had a mural painted across it thanks to Draco, of a sort of fairytale land, a castle in the distance, a dragon soaring through the air, a unicorn galloping past. They all moved, a little bit, occasionally, but nothing too dramatic so as to be distracting. The fairies in the trees blinked many colors, sufficing as Clarissa's nightlight. Ginny was impressed by Draco's talent, one of many he casually revealed and played down modestly despite the obvious pride he took in it. He could sing, dance, played a number of instruments, and was an artist as well. A real Renaissance man. He brushed it all off as something he had done as a boy instead of having friends. There always seemed to be bitter undertones to all that Draco said.

Ginny thought the room as a whole was a bit young for the girl who would be twelve in only a few very short months, but it had all been Clarissa's choice. The dressers were all large with carved roses clustered and cascading down their wooden sides. Lilac -Clarissa's favorite flower- was gathered in vases all around, giving the room a strong perfume. In the center of the room was a large, white canopy bed, lace and pink drapes hanging from the posts and tide back at the moment. In the middle, as though stranded in the sea of pink and ruffles, was a small lump, a mass of impossibly fair ringlets spread out across her pillow. All that was between her and Ginny was a dainty mesh, like a bug-netting, giving the sleeping girl a white glow in the bright sunlight that poured in through the open window.

Ginny always had to stop and stare because of how beautiful Clarissa was. So dainty, so pale, with such beautiful hair, she just didn't seem real. She was like a doll. She understood why Draco wanted a little girl so badly every time she laid eyes on Clarissa. She was just a vision of purity, every parent's dream daughter. Ginny feared, however, Clarissa growing up. She had a feeling she would be a little too pretty for her own good.

"Sweet-pea?" Ginny asked softly, coming up alongside the bed and parting the white haze to be able to enter onto the bed. Clarissa woke, always -like a princess stirred with a kiss- a slight scrunch of her nose and a flutter of her eyes while taking in a deep breath. "Morning," Ginny said softly while tilting her head, Clarissa rolling her own head over to look up at her.

"Morning," she greeted back, smiling then, it not quite reaching her eyes.

"How are you feeling?" Ginny asked, still talking in whispers, reaching over to brush away some of the curls that ticked at Clarissa's cheek.

Clarissa didn't have to say anything, just close her eyes and make a barely audible groan for Ginny to understand.

"What would you like me to get you for breakfast? Your nana is downstairs right now making hotcakes," she said and Clarissa just shook her head slowly so that it rolled in the pillows. "Jam and toast?" she offered and Clarissa responded exactly the same.

"Coffee," she whispered, only because her voice seemed hoarse and Ginny laughed.

"Coffee," she said enthusiastically. "You will be a grown lady sooner than I thought," she teased and Clarissa just rolled over to snuggle with her stuffed Niffler. Ginny knew Clarissa had already developed a taste for her father's obsession: coffee, but wished the girl had asked for something else for breakfast. She would bring her some fruit, hoping that she would nibble on that at least. Clarissa was skinny in a lot of the same way Draco was, but yet not quite so sickly looking and Ginny certainly didn't want it to come to that, so she made sure Clarissa ate. Narcissa ate like an ant, and Draco barely ate anything, and Ginny feared Clarissa was learning unhealthy eating habits from them.

Ginny stepped over the softly grunting and purring pink and purple Pigmy-puffs that chased each other around the room, out from under the bed at present, like static dust-bunnies gone amuck, and left Clarissa to doze while she went to check on Michelangelo. She was able to unlock the door with just a thought and a nudge of her wand which was of course kept on her, in a pocket of her robe. Draco might not have liked magic cast about in him a leisurely way, it didn't mean that Ginny had given it up; she was just more subtle about it now. She was a fully qualified witch, and she made use of her abilities. She knew Draco hated that he was not fully qualified. He had been pardoned by the Ministry, they could not prevent him from getting a wand again if he so desired, but there was this technicality where he had never passed his NEWTs, never taken them actually, so he was not allowed to practice magic. Ginny knew, if the at-home-learning classes would allow a werewolf into their courses, Draco would have already been well-underway towards qualifying. But as it was, he was blacklisted and therefore apparently doomed to live out the rest of his life as a mediocre wizard, something he did not find much revelry in.

"Michael?" Ginny asked, just as softly as she had with Clarissa in the other room. She got no answer.

Michelangelo's room was utterly opposite of Clarissa's. While the little girl's room was bright and childish, Michelangelo's was dark and carried a very adult sense about it. Draco had discovered the secret to removing the posters. They were "un-removable" by magical means, and the harsher the spell used to try and remove it the tighter they clung, but simply going in and gently taking them down by hand seemed to do the trick just fine, a scraper used when necessary. It was like a Chinese-finger-trap, the gentler the more successful. The Blacks, a pureblooded wizarding family with a renowned temper, would certainly never have thought to do anything less than cast spells about the room in their anger and outrage, attempting to clear the walls. It was called irony.

Up still were a few of the posters and clippings Michelangelo had originally liked, but gone were the Gryffindor banners and the old photographs. Draco, unsure of what to do with them, had given them to Harry, figuring any possession Sirius might have cherished would be something he would want to hold on to. To try and cover up such selfless thoughts and consideration, Draco had just drawled on about how he had no use for a bunch of photographs of dead people, such as Sirius and Harry's parents. Draco's thoughtfulness had not been missed by Harry, despite Draco's air of indifference during the exchange. Draco was still learning to welcome people's appreciation for his "selflessness" and it was hard. That had taken place before his most recent therapist visit anyways, so Draco hadn't put such advice into practice yet at that point.

Michelangelo's walls were a dark blue, and his curtains were drawn closed and in a shade just as dark but green. The bed was large like Clarissa's was, but dark brown wood. The curtains that hung from his canopy were pulled closed tight, and matched the ones hung from his window. Ginny reached up to part them, ready to greet the boy, but revealed the bed to be empty.

Ginny looked around, suddenly worried, ready to think the worst. Had he snuck out again? Where was he?

In the corner, looking at her.

"Oh, Michael, you scared me," Ginny said, placing her hand over her heart, worried and then startled by seeing him sitting at his desk in the corner, it too dark to see much of anything so it left Ginny wondering what he was doing over there. She decided to ask.

"Why aren't you in bed?"

"I couldn't sleep."

"So you are just sitting here in the dark?"

"Apparently," he said so flatly it was almost monotone.

"Why don't you climb into bed here, come on. I was just coming in to see what you wanted for breakfast," she said, patting the bed but Michelangelo not moving but for his right hand that came to rest on his left forearm where a white bandage still clung to guard his burns. "Come on," she said, patting a bit more firmly. Michelangelo didn't move. "What's wrong?" Michelangelo just sat there. Ginny had a feeling this had to do with the trouble Michelangelo was in, she knew he hadn't been sleeping well as a result, but she was unsure if he had yet read what the papers had printed about him. Was he sitting in the dark like he was because of that? Ginny was willing to stand there, and wait it out, just as stubborn as Michelangelo was, but eventually gave in, knowing that they could stay that way all day, but breakfast could not wait. She rather snuggle with Draco than sit and have a stubborn feud with her quasi-step-son.

Ginny left without a word, resolving to just bring Michelangelo some fruit and hotcakes like everyone else, and headed back down the stairs.

"Thank you, Gin," Draco said barely five minutes later as he lay in bed, eating those strawberries they had been lacking in their night of romance. He had made up for that with a song, and Ginny hadn't complained with all that sex distracting her, but Draco knew he had to make another night of this romance stuff, to get it right. Surely Ginny wouldn't mind one or two "failed" attempts. Ginny curled up beside him, the tray over Draco's covered lap, the food not disappearing at any discernable rate but that being something that Ginny knew to be normal for him. He would eat for an hour at a time when the average person would be done with the same morsel within five minutes. Ginny was convinced Draco just liked cold food.

"You're welcome, but I didn't make them, your mother did," she said and Draco just smiled with a mouthful of cake and strawberry syrup before sucking on the tip of his thumb where he had gotten just a little on himself.

"I could trust you not to drug me, but my mother undoubtedly laced this with any number of things," he said swallowing and looking even more disinclined towards finishing.

"It's in your best interest, and so is finishing, so eat up," Ginny encouraged, curling into the pillows.

"You would just like to see me fat," he teased and Ginny laughed at that quite openly.

"I don't think it's even possible for you to get fat, Draco, not according to your mother anyways."

"I'm sure you would be able to manage, your cooking as good as it is," he teased, leaning into the pillows that propped him up. He was in pain, he really couldn't eat much, but he was trying, for Ginny.

There was a knock at the door and the both looked over, Ginny reaching for Draco's robe.

"Yes?" she asked as she handed it to him. He was covered by the bedding, but a robe over his thin arms and bare chest would make a better impression while he laid there with Ginny in bed. That and Draco hated showing his scars to anyone. It had taken her nearly three months to get Draco to have sex with her with the light on; even then he had kept his shirt on. He was terribly insecure sometimes, even though he knew she loved him, as is.

"Visitors," Narcissa replied. Ginny frowned her brow as she rolled out of bed to answer, but the door but it already opening. Fred and George burst in, looking jolly and mischievous as ever, catching Ginny by complete surprise.

"Fred, George, what are you…" she attempted to ask but was unable to due to being kissed by each of her brothers and passed by.

"Hey Draco," Fred greeted, Draco still tying his robe.

"Came by to have a chat," George explained, Ginny standing there now by the door, Narcissa just on the other side.

"I'm overwhelmed with anticipation," Draco said dryly as he looked at them, not in any way hiding his skepticism.

"Ginny, why don't we see how the children are doing?" Narcissa asked, already knowing why the boys where there if she had allowed them upstairs at all, and knowing this was something that would go a whole lot smoother without Ginny there as intimidation. Ginny, thinking she had some idea of what was happening, allowed herself to be led out of the room.

Once the door was closed Fred and George turned to smile at Draco in the bed.

"I really do not need you coming all the way over here to apologize to me because your sister berated you so, and bullied you into doing it," Draco said, not maintaining any pretense that he didn't know exactly why they were there.

"We were wrong, mate, we were totally in the wrong, and it didn't take Ginny rapping us about the head a few times yesterday to really see that,"

"Though it certainly drove the point home," George interrupted and Fred nodded.

"So, what, am I to sit here as you profess your remorse and listen to your assurances that you won't be so ready to think the worst of me -or my son- again, while using flattery and charm to sooth my ego and pride?" he asked and George and Fred looked at each other and back at Draco awkwardly. "Very-well, proceed," Draco said with a wave of his hand, fully expecting a production of sorts that would praise him and assure him how great he was and how wrong they had been. Fred and George looked at each other again, and then to the very expectant Draco, and managed to deliver. Draco's standards were high, of course, but they did a good job at building him up and making themselves seem like fools for having dismissed him like they had. Draco approved.

"Are you feeling better?" Fred asked, a little resentful now that nothing they said sounded all that sincerer because Draco had known their angle from the very beginning.

"Much," Draco said quite smugly.

"Are we forgiven?' George asked, some part of him hating that he was standing before Draco as he laid propped up in bed, robe on, breakfast before him, begging for his forgiveness. Foregoing the fact that Draco was in bed because he was deathly ill, it was like Draco was some kind of master, and he was some servant before him. He recalled getting thrown off his Quidditch team in his last year at Hogwarts because he had clobbered Draco's face in for insulting his mum. Some part of him couldn't see Draco as any different as he had been then. By the look on Fred's face, he was struggling too.

Draco, keenly aware of what was going on in both the twins' heads, sighed and stopped being so snooty, stopped reveling in their misery.

"Forgiven," he said, looking at the foot of his bed rather than at them. "Is it too much to ask for the same?" he asked and the boys shifted. "It has been more than fourteen years, as you know."

"It's just hard to recall what you were like then, and see you now, and not hold some amount of grudge. You were a right-foul-git," Fred said, George agreeing with a nod.

"I felt much the same about you, for reasons all my own, and yet I attempt to see past that," Draco argued and the twins looked down. "Who decided to move the party?" Draco asked, knowing he would get an honest answer, one way or another.

"Dad."

"Arthur still so disinclined in welcoming me in as his son-in-law that he would do this? Draco asked, not letting how much this news hurt and disappointed him. He had thought he had struck a cord with the man, he seemed well-liked enough, or so he had believed. He had thought he was on the way to being a part of the family as far as the man was concerned, rather than just the baby-daddy to a grandchild.

"I think he just wanted to have the party over with. It is rather stressful, and he and mum were left with such a mess after the last gathering…"

"He figured my not being there would prevent such a catastrophe from repeating," Draco sighed.

"Don't look into it like that, Mate. Dad likes you, you know that."

"He likes me as much as any father can like the spoiled-brat that knocked up his daughter out of wedlock," Draco said, looking at his food and not wanting any of it.

"We can move the party again," George offered but Draco shook his head.

"I rather not force myself onto people who would rather not have me. I think I will allow Arthur to cool down, and have a talk with him, and we can start back at square one in regards to me trying to get into his good books," Draco said, trying not to sound defeatist, trying to be proactive, trying not to allow his depression over the situation overwhelm him. He spun his ring around his finger for comfort, and strength.

"We had a feeling you wouldn't want to come," Fred said, reaching into his inner-robe-pocket.

"So we brought you your gifts now…thought it would cheer you up since we knew you would be feeling like hell in a couple of different ways," George said, mimicking his brother, each pulling out packages that were far too large to have been concealed within their garments if it weren't for the aid of magic.

Draco, despite himself, felt a smirking smile pull at his lips.

"Come on, open'em," Fred encouraged, he and George each stepping forward to deposit the gifts on the bed before Draco.

Draco looked at them, and slowly, very slowly, a smile started to break through that smirk of his. The twins' charm was hard to resist. They had a way of making you love them, even if you were mad at them. Draco needed them to school him a little.

"Come on," George pressed, teasing, knowing Draco was on the verge of a smile, not a smirk, but an actual smile.

"I can't imagine what you would get me," he said, sighing in his defeat and looking down to start tearing at his packages.

"Crap from our shop, naturally," Fred grinned, their own merchandise being their standard endowment.

"Of course," Draco said in a mockingly dry way, still having not forgiven them for getting Clarissa those damn Piggy Puffs. He would never forgive them for that.

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

The large, white wolf lunged forward in an image that was a short cycle, a brief moment in time captured and then played back over and over, never to end, and never to proceed. One repetitive lunge after another, the wolf was jerked backwards by the collar and chain that tethered him, practically choking himself, eyes wild, teeth and claws bared before he backed up, snarling and barking, then repeating with another painful looking snap of the head and shoulders.

What was worse than the picture was the caption that went along with it.

"Deadly and Dangerous Draco…Does Ginny Know What She is Dating?" Ginny read aloud, looking at the paper, caught precariously between horror, outrage, anger, and shock. She was pacing in her kitchen, holding the paper in her hands that had just been delivered by post owl, the hearth flaring down still since the arrival of her recently flooed guest, Ron. He had emerged from the fireplace upon floo from Ginny to meet her at once, and he hadn't need to wonder what this was about, only moments before his kitchen fire had burst to life he too had seen the article as his owl had flown off.

"Ginny…" he attempted to console.

"How did they get this picture?" she shouted, shaking the paper at Ron as she crunched the whole thing in her fist as though she would hit him with it. It was only the morning after the full moon, Draco wasn't even home yet, how was it there was already a picture of him in the paper, an impossible picture that no one could have -should have- been able to get?

"I don't know Ginny, it made the morning papers, maybe it was from last month and they were sitting on it until this moon to increase its shock value?" he reasoned, though not sure how he was being comforting and switching gears. "Just calm down, please? Sit with me, take some deep breaths," he instructed, though in a pleading manner, so she would be more willing to comply.

"Why are they doing this? Why are they doing this to him?" she sobbed as she plopped down on the bench beside her brother. The picture was awful, as was Draco's appearance. She remembered him as the shinning silver wolf that had saved her from a giant years ago in the war, but now years of incarceration, malnourishment, and penning had left him with what looked like a case of mange despite the pride he took in his personal cleanliness as a man. The beast in the photograph looked both ferocious and pitiful. "Is it not enough all he has to endure on any other day, but they would add this to it?" she cried, opening the paper to read a little further this time, still having not yet read the whole thing, not needing to to know how cruel it was. "Ravenous and deadly, Malfoy, above all other werewolves housed in the Ministry's Penitently, displays a viciousness that one would not expect to see from someone taking Wolfsbane on a regular basis. He is chained, muzzled, and tethered while in his own cage -unlike the other's kept- while also segregated from the general wolf population. This leads us to assume the reason is because of this aggressive behavior he displays," she read, voice firm with rage, words whimpering with suppressed tears.

"You know they are just speculating about shit they know nothing about, based off one picture," Ron consoled.

"No, listen," she sniffed. "'Our expert weighed in: `It is not uncommon for a wolf to display different personality traits than his human counterpart, but such phenomena is typically only witnessed when no Wolfsbane is administered. Substantial amounts of the potion having been supplied would lead me to the conclusion that Malfoy really is a highly aggressive individual, this only magnified by his past possession by the…' oh this is bullshit!" Ginny said, dropping the words she was reading to just go off on her own. "That so called `expert' would KNOW -if he really were some kind of `expert'- that Draco was only responding to his environment, and the photographer. We see one picture, how much do you want to bet they antagonized him before they snapped it? You can't put a toe over that red line there without him spazzing out, they could have been encroaching on him and he got protective…I'm sure that's what happened, he was feeling threatened…we all know how he gets when he is defensive," she said, raging now, standing at this point and now pacing as Ron watched.

"And since when has being possessed by the Dark Lord made someone a bad person?"

"Ginny…"

"Does it make ME a bad person because I was once possessed? How about you, or Harry. Are you all bad people? Draco was put in charge of a Horcrux and it corrupted him, that's kind'a their nature! No one can blame him for that, or they shouldn't anyway, but they do! Fuck!" she ranted, throwing the paper in the fire without giving it another glance, live embers erupting in a small explosion of hot ash.

"Where is Draco now?" he asked, left feeling uncomfortable.

"Recovering at the Ministry. His mother left already, to start on the process of checking him and the kids out and brining them home," Ginny said, pacing, looking very intently at objects in the room to have something to glare at, chewing on her thumbnail viciously.

"When will he be home?"

"An hour? Maybe a little more," she said, sounding distant, like her mind was elsewhere.

"You can't let what that paper said get to you…"

"I'm not worried about ME, Ron," she said, looking at him. "I don't care what they think of me, what a fool I am, how clueless I must be to date a werewolf such as him…I am worried about Draco. It will destroy him to see that," she said, looking to the fire where the paper was nothing but curling ash at that point.

"He has taken bad press in the past," Ron offered, though honestly agreeing with Ginny, Draco's insecurity fracturing him too greatly to not leave him devastated by this.

"This isn't just them picking on him for how he looks, or his past, or the unsubstantiated coswallop they are always coming up with, this is them taking a terribly embarrassing and unflattering picture of him, exposing him in a way he never wanted anyone to see him as, and is using it as a means to prey on people's fears and turn more against him," she said, hands up by her forehead now, like she was blocking the sun from her eyes, but it was more of a gesture of exasperation.

"What are we gonna do?" Ron asked, knowing Ginny wanted nothing more than to ask him that very question.

Ginny paced, and moved her hands from her forehead, to her hips, to her stomach, to her mouth, and back again, thinking the whole time, eyes dancing around the room before she came to stop, coming to a conclusion.

"We can't let him see the article. He can't know of it, not right away, not while he is so sick. And it will have to be one of us that tells him, he can't just read about it, or have someone shove a camera in his face and asking. I couldn't let him find out that way," she said, hugging her arms then, unable to stop her shaking, her whole body shaking and heart beating with an ache.

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

Draco was curled up in his bed, sound asleep. He had ridden home in the front seat of his mother's car, curled up and wrapped tightly in a blue blanket, asleep, or unconscious. This was the reason they had the car in the first place. His mother wasn't one for Muggle conveniences, but she needed a way of toting her babies around after the moon. Draco's eyes were darkened, almost like someone had punched him, but really, those dark circles were just caused from the restless night he had had, and the stress of the change. His lips were chapped, and white, like his face, and he almost looked dead. He was utterly still, in the same position he had been laid in when Ron had scooped him up in his massive arms and carried him up to his bed. All that saved him was the occasional breath that heaved his shoulders, like it was painful.

Charlie was in there at the moment, everyone taking shifts in watching over him. It was a job Narcissa had once done on her own, but was now grateful for the assistance as she looked after the children, both conscious but very groggy and fretful. Michelangelo was a whiner, like his daddy, but it was never too obvious until the full. Clarissa was a trooper, but just that sorrowful look in her tired eyes was enough to get even the most coldhearted to drop everything to try and comfort her. It went without saying that the warmhearted Weasleys were at her mercy at that point.

"It's half past noon, has he woken yet?" Ron asked as he came to switch with Charlie, Ginny there to make one of her frequent checks on him.

"No, he hasn't moved a bit. It's a little unsettling, watching him lay there like that. I almost wanted to move him, just so he wouldn't be all curled up like you left him, but I feared disturbing him," Charlie said, looking back at Draco as Ginny sat beside him, blotting his forehead with a damp rag.

"He'll be alright, nothing he hasn't gone through twelve times a year for the last fifteen years," Ron said while slapping his older brother on the back, honestly just as worried but being strong for his sister who was worried restless and his brother who was so new to all this still.

Charlie vacated the room, to join his family downstairs, and Ron turned to Ginny who was speaking softly to Draco, pleading for him to wake up.

"Come on, just open your eyes for me, baby. Please?" she asked, voice a barely audible whisper but one that Ron could not miss.

"He will wake up when he is ready."

"He needs to eat or drink something, before he gets dehydrated, more than he already is," Ginny said, like she knew what she was talking about, even though she had only gone through this with Draco five times now. She knew enough to know that he needed to be up by noon, no matter how exhausted he was, or waking him up would get progressively harder and harder. She had his bunny Leak tucked in his arms, knowing, when he woke, that he would want Leak and preempting that search so he would wake with his comfort already there. She knew he thought the stuffed-bunny was a secret from her, but being one that made the bed frequently, and his hiding place for him being under his pillow, it hadn't taken her long to discover Draco's fluffy-little-secret.

"Should we call for a healer…?"

"They won't come," Ginny said in a tone that was nearly snapping, ringing her rag out and blotting it over Draco's lips as though to moisten them. "It is the day after the full, they wont make house calls to any werewolf's residence unless it is declared an absolute emergency, otherwise they would be on endless calls to every achy wolf in London, and they are not about to be shorthanded at the possible expense of Human patients being neglected, not for a bunch of werewolves," she said bitterly.

"Hermione can have a look at him again."

"I will try to wake him myself. Give me half an hour and if I can't we will have her come up. He won't like it if we call her unless there is no other choice," she said, brushing Draco's fine hair away, going back to talking to him in a manner that implied she was done talking to Ron on this matter.

"Come on, babe, you have to get up. Wake up for me? Please?" she asked, scratching at his scalp like she knew he liked, occasionally reaching around to rub his back, hoping to rouse him gently.

"Wake up you lazy twat!"

Draco breathed deeply as he sat up some, roused by a familiar voice, his hair a stuck-up mess.

"Come on, get up, it's morning, come on," Christina called from her cell, Draco looking around with groggy eyes, his cell still dark. He flopped back down onto his pillow that was thinner than a book and made to go back to sleep, when a clang against his bars made him groan and pull his short, thin blanket up to his chin, him curling his legs more to attempt at keeping his feet covered.

"Wake up, it is the first day in the pit, come on!" Christina shouted, throwing another tin cup at him and causing a resonating clang to reverberate in Draco's cell.

"It is bloody dawn, woman, go back to sleep and let me be," Draco grumbled, sticking firmly to his resolve to go back to sleep.

"You are not excited?"

"Clearly not as much as you, may I enquire as to why that is? What is so wonderful about being forced out into the open weather and all its harshness for an hour?" he asked, eyes closed.

"If you were here, as long as I have been, you too would revel in the opportunity to have real, actual human contact for a moment," she said, pacing around her cell.

"Well, you have fun with that `Human contact' and you let me know how that goes. This werewolf, however, is staying right here," Draco yawned.

"You can't seriously be choosing to stay in; no one chooses to stay in."

"It is not mandatory that I parade myself out of this cell to be amidst a sea of prisoners that loathe and hate me. I was beaten enough as a Death Eater, I can't even begin to imagine the abuse I would endure as a traitor. I can stay here, you will tell me of the adventure when you get back and we will talk, for hours, as always," he said, mind already drifting to sleep.

"Has it even occurred to you that my excitement in not due to me getting out of this damned cell, but because it will allow me to be with you, for the first time, not ten feet apart and separated by bars?" she huffed, Draco opening his eyes slowly, trying to work his mind around that.

"You couldn't mean me."

"Who the fuck else would I be talking about?" she snapped, hands on her narrow hips.

"You were going on about some human contact…"

"Oh come off it already, you insecure little bastard. I have endured you whining about being a werewolf long enough, now get your pasty arse out of that bed this instant and throw on that extra shirt I tossed you and lets get moving, you will need to pace around to build up some warmth in those joints of yours, so lets have at it," she said, snapping her fingers at him as Draco groaned. He just wanted to sleep.

When the sun was highest in the sky, it cast itself down into the pit, and it was then time to allow the prisoners out, by block. Block A had been the day before, now Block B would be released, and C -consisting of only two at the moment- would be joining them.

Draco was shackled while still in his cell, as was Christina, and they were then shackled together, so fewer guards would be needed to oversee their move. Draco stood beside Christina and for the first time could appreciate how tall she was, or maybe just how short he himself was. Their chains were cold as they bumped between them, but Draco felt something warm frequently brush his hand, and he knew it was hers. He dared a glance over his shoulder only once while the guard was distracted with the unlocking of a great heavy door, and Christina smiled at him in a mischievous way, eyes heavy-lidded as always but this time burning with something he had never seen in them before.

It was a long winding trek down to the pit. Every corridor was sectioned up and locked off, making it impossible to escape, but it slow to move even with permission. Each door was manually unlocked, the check points and change-offs were many, and the sense of dread in some sections was so intense Draco had to fight not to sob a few times as the most unpleasant memories of his life played before his eyes.

Finally, however, there was one final door, one final lock, one final check point, and with a groan of weathered hinges, the door swung open into a brightness that burned Draco's eyes and caused him to nearly spin around to shield himself. He found himself only inches from Christina's front as she too turned -but only her head- away, and it would have been so easy to just lean into her at that point, feel her body against his for the first time, but he was yanked by the chain around his throat by the guard that led them along, and he stumbled backwards, away from her, into the noon-time light that washed over him, causing him to disappear in her vision for a moment in the white brightness.

The clanking of chains was both louder and quieter out there. The space being wide open and free meant the echoes of their chains was gone as well as less harsh, but there were more chains outside now, their soft, constant rubbing and bumping fading into the background to almost become a part of the scene.

"Over here," the guard said, tugging on Draco's collar. Christina was only shackled wrist and ankle, chains all leading to a belt around her waist like the other inmates, but Draco was collard on top of that, the collar a permanent accessory of his, the muzzle something he was grateful to do without today.

Draco was unchained first, thought the belt, collar, and shackles stayed, the chains were evaporated into smoke with a flick of the guard's wand.

"You have one hour," he announced, Christina nodding readily despite the cold, Draco just pulling at his heavy iron collar to try and swallow better after having been tugged so many times by his throat. The guard didn't seem to like Christian's eagerness, but said nothing on it either. He simply moved away to deal with other prisoners, slowly the sound of many people talking taking the place of chains.

Draco had Christiana at his back and he was suddenly very nervous. His heart was pounding in his chest, and his chin was tilted down. An itch was crawling up his spine to linger between his shoulder blades where he knew her eyes were focused. This would be the first time the two of them would be face to face in such a way, and he could not explain his nervousness. This was Christina, his cell-block-mate, a woman he had been talking to for the last month, a woman he had said a great deal many personal things to, and knew a great deal about in return as a result of their deep conversations. He knew her, so why was he scared? Was he scared because he knew her? He had opened himself up to her so greatly, but he had always had that wall between them, literally bars, so as to still feel safe, protected. Here, outside, in the open, he suddenly felt naked, and he suddenly felt her hand grab his.

"You look more nervous than a pixy in room full of cats," she said in a way that was almost condescending in its comforting but teasing tone. She had grabbed him by the hand while behind him, and was now using his arm to steer him, to turn him around to face her, Draco keeping his chin down. "Come on, I don't bite," she flirted, reaching over to tilt his head up so she could look upon him for the first time in the sunlight, in such minuet detail, in such vicinity. Draco kept his eyes down at first, but eventually, timidly raised them to finally meet hers.

He was shocked by what he saw. Her eyes, in the sunlight, shone like a cat's, the pupils contracted so tightly that the green was nearly overwhelming. He could see now on her fair but warm skin that she had a light dusting of freckles across the bridge of her nose, like they gained vibrancy from the sunlight, but more than just her striking features and presence, her hair burned. What looked wild and red in their cells looked ablaze and insane in the sunlight. Every wild curl caught the sunlight and glowed a sort of orange that made it seem like she herself was giving off a light. She was so tall, and thin, but so womanly with her bosom right up there between them. Draco, fair and nearly washed out in the sunlight with his short messy hair, silver eyes, and willowy frame, seemed to recoil, like he could not compare to her. Christina didn't seem dissatisfied, however, and looked Draco over thoroughly, longingly, Draco burning with a pink blush by the time she had come full circle to be looking deep into his face again.

"It's good to see you up-close, finally," she said, never having let go of his hand.

"You look quite lovely out here in the sunlight," he flattered, it difficult to sound nonchalant about it while blushing and looking down as he was.

"Why thank you," she said in a haughty tone that was both teasing and arrogant and oh-so-alluring at the same time. She squeezed his hand and held it for a moment, and Draco eventually squeezed it back, finding reassurance in that.

"No need to be nervous, I am no different out here than I am in there," she said, speaking of their lonely little block, "I am simply able to do this now," she said, reaching over to grab a piece of his hair and push it away, as though that simple and singular gesture would be enough to make his unkempt hair tame. "My little-fair-haired-boy," she sighed, pulling him a little closer by his hand to get him to take a step, attempting to get him to walk with her. Draco did, followed obediently, and it seemed the farther they got from the door from which they had entered through, the more relaxed he became. There was a moment where he was looking around the slick muddy pit in excitement and curiosity, but it was a bell-arch, however, and it quickly dropped back down to him being fretful as several men approached, inmates, prisoners, haggardly men looking quite ill-contempt and harsh.

"Christina, a new pet have you?" the first man said in a voice so gruff it seemed inhuman.

"I see it as no nevermind to you one way or another," she said dismissively. "Charles, Nax," she then said curtly to the other two men, inclining her head towards them as though these pleasantries were formal, like they were not all dressed in flimsy prison garb and in a pit of freezing mud. Draco tried not to make it seem like he was cowering behind her as he, well, cowered behind her.

"What's his name? He looks like he is twelve," the first man said, looking around Christina's shoulder to eye Draco, by far the smallest of the group. This first man had managed to keep quite a bit of mass about him, not a fatness, but that bulkiness that lumberjacks had, and trolls. Just a hugeness with broad shoulders and a full ribcage, all balanced on thick stout legs. The other two men were tall and lanky, in a way that suggested that they would have been strong built if they ate more often. It was obvious they had all gotten to be this way over time, and Draco feared what his fate would be if he entered this place as tiny as he was to start.

"He is seventeen, and you leave him alone, Germus," Christina warned.

"Seventeen? Isn't he a little young, even for you?" he retorted with a harsh smile that revealed some battered looking teeth. Draco swallowed.

"He is a man, and I will take up issue with anyone who dares says otherwise," she said firmly, Draco grateful for her defense, but at the same time feeling it might not be a good idea for him to build a contention between himself and other inmates while relying on the protection of a woman, a woman who would only be there with him for a couple more months.

"He looks like a mamma's boy," Germus jeered, the men with him grunting in their apparent agreement. "He looks like he is about to piss on himself and then start crying about it," he laughed, laughed until Christina's palm made contact with his nose in a harsh, sharp, quick upward thrust. Germus, whose eyes had been closed in his cruel taunting, was caught completely off guard, and doubled over to curse and groan into his hands has he cupped them over his face. Draco felt Christina's hand leave his to take a firm challenging stance by herself, looking like she was ready for a throw down with anyone that would have at her.

"You want to add something Charles? How about you Nax? Broken noses are all the rage this season," she said, voice so calm in her threat that it was doubly frightening.

Draco just looked at them timidly from around her shoulder hoping they wouldn't get the impression that he was all for a fight, not really sure he would handle himself all that well. The men just stared at him for a long moment, recognition dawning on them eventually.

"This wouldn't be a little Malfoy would it?" Charles asked, the first thing he had yet said, his voice just as thickly Scottish as Christina's.

"And that matters how?" Christina asked.

"I know some blokes who would love to see you," Charles said to Draco, Germus still bent over with his broken nose held in his hands. Christina's expression darkened as Charles called over for some men to join them.

"Yaxley,, Goyle, have a look at what I just found," he shouted, two men approaching.

"Well, well," Goyle sr. said as he was the first to approach. He took Draco in -the boy that had once been his son's best friend- and nothing but the look of utter loathing was there. Draco swallowed hard, and flinched as he was spat at. Draco was shivering, not shaking in fear.

"Little Draco," Yaxley said, apparently reveling in seeing the young man who had been up on that rooftop with him during that final battle, who had turned traitor and helped Harry Potter defeat their Dark Lord, sending him into this hellish pit, there as well.

"That's enough," Christina said, taking to stand between Draco and the Death Eaters.

"Hiding behind this woman now, Draco? Hid behind daddy first, but now he's dead," Yaxly teased in a mocking baby voice. "Tried to hide behind mummy, but that didn't work out too well, apparently. Hiding behind your aunt got her killed, and hiding behind that foul snake Severus," he said, spitting on the ground "only got his traitorous ass killed too," he said and Draco did his best to keep his hurt off his face, but this place, and all its contempt, and pain, and despair, made it hard to cling to those masks of his that had once helped him survive while everyone else around him died.

"Keep it up, Yaxly, you wouldn't be nearly this bold without a bunch of guards watching. Draco would tear your arms off and eat the flesh off your fingers for breakfast you worthless pile of shit and filth," she said, talking down her nose to him, Draco looking at her, positive he didn't want her making threats on his behalf.

"Is that so?" Yaxly said, looking over at Draco like he had been the one who had said it. Draco shook his head minutely and Christina did him the service of once again speaking on his behalf.

"Yeah, that is so, so why don't you take your stinky little friends and bugger off before he unleashes some beastly hell on the lot of you."

"With the guards watching?"

"You think they will be able to do anything in time before your arm's off, or at the very least you have been infected?" she asked and the men seemed to take that in for a moment and looked uncertain. "It only takes a scratch. One bite. Is it worth contracting Lycanthropy? Proving how tough you are by picking on a woman, and a seventeen-year-old who half your weight?" she challenged, the men all glaring at her.

"Move along all of you," a guard announced, obviously addressing them, clearly not liking the hostile cluster they had formed but missing the roughing that had happened already. Christina stared down the men for a moment longer before they backed down.

"You better watch your mouth, boy," Goyle warned, pointing at Draco, Draco's mouth opening in an outraged `but I didn't even say anything' manner as the men abandoned them there. Christina watched them as they went before turning to face Draco.

"Whoo, you ARE brave," she said, grinning down at him.

"I didn't do…I didn't say…" he said, moving his hands around in a circular motion as though trying to express his distress with them alone as words failed him.

"Don't worry about them, they are full of piss and wind. They will glare and threat until they are cross-eyed, but they can't do shit with the guards around, and they can't get to us any other time, so they are left with nothing else to do but sneer at a distance in our general direction," she assured, looking so unbothered by the confrontation that Draco felt even more ill-equipped for this environment.

"Come on," she said, grabbing his hand, "I know a place where no one will see us, for a handful of moment anyways. It will give us a chance to talk, or whatever," she said, rushing off with Draco to sit in the far corner of the open courtyard, by a dead tree and between a mound of dirt and mud and snow and the wall. They were still rather exposed, yet they seemed so secluded at the same time. Draco crouched there, not wanting to sit and dampen his trousers, and hugged is knees for balance and warmth. Christina sat beside him, but could detect his distress and felt the need to be comforting, as she often did while talking with him.

"Don't listen to Yaxly, or any of them. They are blaming you for why they are here, and are therefore being harsh. It's no fault but their own that they are here, and you can't let them win by withdrawing like that. You can't back down, empty threats are all they have, and you can fight back with your own, don't just take what they dish out, they will just think they are getting to you, and they do not deserve that satisfaction. You have to take those that would kick you and serve it right back to them. If you only take one word of my advice, Draco, it would be to fight, and bite back at those who would push you, okay? I don't ever want to see you defeated, you are much too rare and special to be on the treads of the boots of shitheads like them," she said, Draco just looking at the mucky ground just past his knees.

"Isn't there a downside to being so aggressively defensive?" he asked.

"Isn't it a far worse existence to be a beaten dog?" she asked, Draco unable to disagree with her. "I knew your father, by the way," she said, that managing to get Draco to finally look at her at least. "I met him while he was here, while out here in the pit. I recognized your strong resemblance to him from nearly the beginning, but it wasn't until your hair started to grow in that I knew for sure. I talked with him, he was a good man," she said and Draco looked down. "I heard he died, but he died here Draco, it wasn't your fault, Yaxly was just…"

"Telling the truth," Draco sighed, not about to cry, no way about to cry about his daddy, not with Christina looking at him.

"Draco, no,"

"No, there are things I still haven't told you, things I do not really want to share, things that hurt too deeply," he said, shaking his head and burring his chin deeply into his knees.

"Draco,"

"My father died as a direct result, a direct consequence, of my actions. My aunt died fighting for what she believed in, but I could not support her in those beliefs, and because of my reluctance to offer her a hand, she died. My mentor Severus Snape died because I could not fight, because I froze under pressure and could not act. He took a spell meant for me, ending his life so that I might live," he said, hugging his knees painfully tight, Christina frowning her brow at him. "My threats are worthless, the emptiest any could be, because I am not a fighter, I am not a mean vindictive person, which is how I got myself into this mess in the first place. I wanted to be a Death Eater, like my father, but I have my mother's nature, I am timid and useless. I failed time and time again and people around me were the ones that were punished. It is not in my nature to be so harsh, though I have my father's temper…I am just a stupid lonely little boy that never had any friends but the ones that were ordered to be, that never saw anything outside his own sheltered existence for far too long to build the necessary social skills to survive a place like Hogwarts, and I am a sobbing worthless pansy that can't hold on to his wand in a fight to save anyone's life, much less my own," he said, a single tear from each eye finally rolling down each cheek.

"No, Draco, no," Christina said, falling off the balls of her feet to be on her knees before him, using her how free hands to hold the sides of Draco's face and forcing him to look up, even though he was tensed and struggled to remain balled up and looking way. "You listen to me, and you listen good," she said, her accent somehow aiding in her ability to get him to give her a listen. "There is nothing wrong with your nature. I have seen it, and you are spinning it all to be negative, when all I see -what anyone would see if you let them- is a sensitive boy, lonely yes, who has compassion and an immense ability to love. You are a rare thing, Draco, especially in the environment you were raised in, and you should guard that, never lose that," she said, using her thumbs to wipe away any evidence of Draco's tears. "Promise me. Look at me Draco and promise me," she demanded, giving his a firm shake, "Protect yourself, like I said, so that you never lose that vulnerability in you that makes you so alluring," she said, still holding his face and giving him another little shake for emphasis.

"I promise," he said, Christina seemingly letting out a breath of relief.

Draco looked up at her slowly, and they stared at each other for a long moment, or a brief moment, neither of them could tell because there was nothing outside each other's eyes, no passing of time and no consequence. When Christina's lips planted themselves on his slowly, but firmly, Draco just closed his eyes and allowed himself to pour into her, to allow her to know him, feel him, be a part of him. He could only do that through contact at this point, but the effect was all the same as his arms found themselves wrapped around her tightly, his knees connecting with the wet but frozen mud so that they were both kneeling up, holding each other tight, kissing as though this was their last moments. Christina was clearly the more experienced kisser, but Draco was no novice, and feeling her body pressed up against him was amazing. Draco kissed her and it felt almost like they had made love by the connection he had opened with her using his still developing skills, but it would not get that far, not today. Today they kissed. Today Draco felt secure.

"Come on, Angel, you need to get up," Narcissa said, scratching at her son's scalp, Draco taking a deep breath as he was pulled from his sleep. He opened his eyes slowly, a flutter of his lids first before one slow blink. What came to focus was not the redhead of his past he had every night in his dreams, but the redhead he had now, in his daytime hours. Ginny was face level with him, obviously crouching beside the bed.

"Upsydaisy," Ron said, somewhere from outside Draco's still limited sight as he woke up further. He was seeing a lot of red around the edges, and his body felt like it had gotten in a fight with a Bludger, or three, and lost. Ron had Draco by the shoulders and was sitting him up. Draco did not fight him due to his body being so limp, but he made his protest known by his indignant and wordless moaning and griping. "You're not going to like this, but stay still," Ron said, holding Draco's chin so his head would stop swiveling loosely, and Draco flinched and attempted to weakly recoil as he felt something enter his nose.

"Don't move, Draco, please," Ginny comforted as she pet his arm and Hermione worked, Draco lacking any strength to do anything but groan in his discomfort as the tube was slipped in his nose to then slide down the back of his throat.

"There you are," Hermione said, using a piece of simple medical tape to tack the tube to Draco's left cheek before hooking it around his ear. Ron laid Draco back down and Draco made to reach up and pull at the tube but was easily thwarted by Ron gently grabbing at his wrist.

"You're really dehydrated, mate, this will make you right in no time," he assured, Ginny holding Draco's other hand for comfort and reassurance while also preventing it from pulling at his tubing either.

"Draco, can you look at me?" Hermione asked, the tip of her wand barley aglow as she slowly moved it back and forth, clearly using it to examine him. Draco's eyes opened, and his pupils contacted, though a little unevenly, and Hermione sighed and put her wand away.

"He is seriously dehydrated, and his blood sugar is low, both the possible cause behind his seizure," she said, Ginny holding Draco's hand a little tighter, Ron just looking down at Draco who was licking his lips, showing a clear desire to speak.

"Please…" he said, voice just a rasp the first two times he tried. "Please tell me I did not have a fit," he managed, though barely.

"You gave us all a fright," Ron said, Ginny looking frazzled with worry.

"You're alright now though," Narcissa said, down by his knees, close to Hermione. "I haven't seen you this bad in a while," she said and Draco just coughed in response. Ginny was so guilt ridden over this, but no one in the room understood. She blamed herself for the condition he was in, like if she had only denied him a little more firmly the night before the full he wouldn't have gotten in the condition he was in now.

"We will get some liquids into you, something sweet, and we are going to be waking you up frequently, Draco," Hermione explained, Draco groaning and wishing he could just roll over and go back to sleep. No one in that room was even thinking about mentioning that article to Draco at that point. One of them would have to tell him, gently, but when? He looked like death, even if he was just drained and dehydrated, but surely being told the whole world now believed they had concrete evidence that he was some vicious animal would certainly not help anything.

Draco found Ginny in front of his eyes and all he could think was "how are my babies?" to which she answered for him.

"Michael and Claire are both fine, both resting, both awake and alert but tired. The baby made it though the night without incident," she assured, and Draco, not sure if he had actually projected his question to Ginny, or if she had just known he wanted to know, was relieved at the answer, and was able to close his eyes while holding Ginny's hand, her giving him a squeeze which he drew so much comfort from, him giving a weak squeeze back which was a comfort to her.

Summery:

We opened with a flashback. I haven't done that in a while. I wanted people to see what I see, which is what Draco likes about Christina so much…she is DAMN charming. Draco woke and there was some lovely bonding tender moments between him and Ginny…after he put his ring back on. Narcissa and Ginny got close over the five moths they have lived together? Seriously, Narcissa isn't nearly as insufferable as she seems to be accredited as. If Claire was ANY sweeter I would get a cavity, and I want her bedroom. Michael and Ginny didn't have a tender bonding moment. Seriously, are you guys really expecting that still? Do I have to basically tell you flat out that it ain't gonna happen? These things take time.

Fred and George are classic. You know I love them and couldn't let you all hate on'em for too long. Yay for Draco/Weasley-brothers bonding. Was it Author that changed the party plans? Yes. Why? You will find out in the next chapter.

Oh dear, that terrible photo. I saw this one coming and was dreading it. Who, what, why, how? It will al be revealed next chapter. Yes, Draco was once possessed. It is part of the prequel that I am writing. It is actually a cool part of the story.

Draco is sick. What else is new? The Ministry sucks, what else is new? The Weasleys banned together to help out after the moon, however, so yay. Ginny couldn't take all the burden herself, so her brother's are FINALLY helping her out. Nice of'em, right?

Flashback Fun: I do love this one. Christina out in the Pit, with the other Death Eaters, making threats on behalf of Draco…he will take her later *tugs at collar uncomfortably* She is charismatic, you have to admit. You can see her, in each memory/flashback, molding Draco into the man he is today. We see Draco be more honest with her than he has been with anyone in this story of mine. She seems to have good, and bad, intentions as far as Draco is concerned. She seems genuinely concerned with his wellbeing, and with getting in his pants. She is such a funny bint.

Some people seem bothered by how much she looks like Ginny. I think you are making the red hair and freckles too weighty. Beyond that they really don't look much alike. Christina is 5'10, thin as hell, with a long face, hooded green eyes, full lips, etc. Ginny is round: Round brown eyes, round face, supple body, 5'5 etc. They are redheads, that's about all.

Author's note:

*The bit about needing to have passed your NEWTs to practice magic is just a conjecture of mine. I would assume that a skill that holds such a danger and risk, something that can cause great harm and destruction if used improperly, would be regulated in the sense that you needed a permit to practice…much like you would need one to hunt or own a gun, or drive, or own a tiger, etc. I always assumed Fred and George got their permit upon leaving Hogwarts through those at-home services (like the mail-order-lessons Filtch was attempting to learn magic through) and in the last book it is said that parents had the option of training their children in magic at home, so clearly there is some kind of external-Hogwarts qualification regulation. Blah-blah, I spend WAY too much time thinking about HP and not enough time looking things up on the Lexicon to see if there is an actual answer anywhere. My fiction, my rules.

* I do seem cruel to Draco, but I do not mean to have SO MANY bad things happen to him, I have surprisingly little control, but can you believe it if I said things can get worse? Yeah…*hides* Sorry that Draco is so ill, this is only the second moon we have gotten to share with him, and it is the worse of the two, but he will be alright. I always assumed, even with Wolfsbane, the whole ordeal is extremely taxing, otherwise I don't think Lupin would take off class time (especially knowing that Snape would gladly temporarily fill the position) and miss Christmas that year too. *pats Draco…and Lupin*

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