Unofficial Portkey Archive

Written by: Kagome-sama

Translated by: Kagome-sama (me, yes! =.=)

Beta-read by: Jess

Note: This fic is written OotP-wise; don't read it if you didn't read OotP!.

Draco wiped his forehead on his sleeve and sat on his bed. He'd spent the last hour shut in that room, cursing himself and working hard. He didn't know how to clean a room--he had never had to do such a thing in his whole life. Guessing he might as well get started, he had picked up some of the object that were lying on the floor and dusted them, piling them up in high heaps all over the room. He had also washed the floor; he knew how to do that, after all, he had often been forced to do it without magic when he had been given detention at Hogwarts.

Without magic . . . how could he have been that dumb? He thought about how much easier it would've been to clean the room using his wand. He could've fixed it in a few minutes, and it would've been perfect. Instead, he had been forced to clean it by hand; it wasn't a big deal, after all it was just cleaning a room; it hurt only his pride. But . . .what would've happened to him if his wand hadn't worked during a fight? He had already stared death in face, he didn't want another look, thank you very much.

Of course, Ollivander was right. Draco sighed at the realization. You only understand how important things are to you when they're gone, he thought, longingly. He stared at London's sky through the window and noticed that the first stars had appeared between the violet shades of the sunset. Damn, he would have to pick up the pace, he didn't want to sleep on the floor, as Granger had kindly suggested before.

He was standing up to resume his work, when the door opened and Hermione came into the room, carrying a tray in her hands.

'Were you having a rest, Malfoy?' she asked. He nodded as she glanced around, approaching the bed. 'I brought your dinner. Eat it before it gets cold.' She put the tray onto his bed and had a better look at the room. She shook her head, disappointed.

Draco started to eat his dinner, and watched as Hermione continued walking around the piles of stuff he had built up in various points of the room.

'What's wrong, Granger?' he asked swallowing some food. He didn't like the way that she walked through his room as if she were judging his work . . . and finding it unsatisfactory.

'Nothing. Just . . . it's obvious that you've never tidied anything up before,' she said as she finished her inspection.

Draco choked mid-swallow as the food that he had been eating went down the wrong way, and he had to cough several times and gulp two glasses of water before he felt better. He then stared at her in amazement.

'What d'you mean?' he drawled, still coughing slightly.

'I can see what you were planning to do by building those piles of stuff, but it's not the best way of putting things in order.' The girl approached one of the piles and started to scan its contents. 'The boxes should've been placed together, and so should the papers, and the objects of different sizes. Then you should've put all the larger things which needed to be repaired by magic in another pile. The way you've done it . . . just . . . isn't very well organised.'

While he was eating, Hermione started to move the stuff from the piles that he had built, and created new piles using her logic. After a few minutes, new heaps of well organized stuff could be seen in the room, replacing the ones that had taken him hours to form. Then, Hermione took a box and started to fill it with papers and thin stuff.

'Since you've finished eating, you may as well come here and help me, instead of staring at me like an idiot,' she snapped, glaring at him.

Draco immediately stood up and walked over to where she was sitting. It wasn't until he had knelt down beside her and had begun to sort some papers into another pile that he realized that he had obeyed her orders without batting an eyelash. He stopped and angrily muttered something under his breath. She smiled.

'You know, Malfoy. Today you've truly impressed me. You should be proud, it can't have been easy for you,' she said, taking some papers that he passed to her, and putting them in the box. Draco noted that she was trying to use as little space as possible.

'I don't understand,' he admitted. He truly hadn't understood--how could he possibly have impressed her today?

'Ginny told us what you did. I never thought that you'd really help us, you know,' she replied beckoning for him to toss her some papers which were farther away.

Draco stood up and picked up what she had asked him to give her. Hermione became very busy trying to add more papers to the box than it could possibly hold; she appeared to be concentrating very hard.

'If that's the case then there's something that just doesn't make sense to me,' he said.

Hermione stopped what she was doing and turned to face him.

'What?' she asked.

She gave up the hope of fitting the large bundle into such a small box and simply used her wand to enlarge the box, with an ease that Draco envied.

'Why did you bother making me swear not to break your rules? Since you obviously still don't trust me; what was the point?' he asked, picking up the remaining pile of papers and tossing them to her.

Hermione gazed at him for a moment, stunned; she took the papers and slipped them into the box automatically, with her wand.

'Well, in truth . . . it's hard to trust you. It's your own fault, you know.'

'I don't regret anything,' he retorted, sneering at her. 'I'm not trying to follow your rules, or help you because I'm seeking "redemption" or anything stupid like that. It's just that . . . I have a life debt with Potter.' His face turned pink, and with you as well, he thought.

'Good thing to know,' she replied. Then, she stood up and took a new box.

They stayed there tidying together for an hour and a half and, slowly, the room began to look fit for human habitation. The bigger objects and the broken beams were fixed by Hermione's wand. Then, she freshened up the bed in the same way and found some blankets and a heavy bedspread, which she left on the mattress.

'I reckon you can continue by yourself,' she said, picking up the tray and walking through the door.

'Why did you do that?' he asked. She turned to stare at him for a long moment.

'I don't know,' she murmured and immediately left, closing the door behind her.

Draco approached his bed. He knew perfectly well that he should make it up, but he couldn't resist and sank onto the mattress. He had never been this tired in his whole life. Only five minutes, he thought as he moved into a more comfortable position.

'Good Morning, Mr. Malfoy. How may I help you?' A girl with brown hair and dark eyes smiled and stared at him from under her glasses.

Draco observed her, doubtfully. She was Marion Winterman, Fudge's new secretary. He had met her before and he had always thought of her as a dull person; shy and obliging, but absolutely inefficient. He hoped that she wouldn't waste his precious time--he was there to collect a few documents that his father needed, but he had a lot of other things to do that day.

Ever since he had left Hogwarts, Lucius seemed to think Draco's purpose in life was to run boring errands for him. Of course he had his reasons; Draco hadn't got all the N.E.W.T.s that his father had expected him to. However . . . he'd hoped for more consideration.

'I'm here to collect those papers, Miss Winterman. You know which ones,' he said, frowning. She smiled at him and ran to her desk, starting to look through various folders that were piled there, in what he hoped was some sort of order.

'Yes, of course. Here, they should be here . . . why aren't they where I put them? Damn it! I'm sure that I put them here! I'm ready to--' she stammered as she rummaged through the papers.

She blushed to the roots of her hair as she accidentally tipped over an open ink bottle that was on her desk. Quickly, she righted the bottle and attempted to block the spill from spreading while she tried to move the nearby papers without pushing them off the desk.

This was what really pissed him off. Her. She was disorganised and completely incompetent; she always took hours to find what people asked her for. She seemed to live with her head in the clouds. How many times had he asked her to find some papers by a certain day and she had only just began to look for them when she had seen a glimpse of his face entering the office? How many memos had he sent her to remind her about her duties . . . always later finding them lying untouched on her table, as if she hadn't even bothered to open them? How many times had she said that she had just forgotten? HOW COULD SHE JUST FORGET? It was her bloody job, damn! How the hell could she forget about it? Sometimes he had been forced to wait for her for over ten minutes because she was late. Why didn't Fudge just get rid of her?

Suddenly, a big volume, which had been lying on a corner of the table, fell to the floor with a loud crash. Marion gasped in shock.

'Oh! Here they are--' she said, cleaning the sweat from her forehead, cheeks and eyes. Her hand was covered with the ink that she had just prevented covering everything on the desk, and her fingers left funny splotches on her face. When she rubbed her eyes Draco couldn't help but giggle.

She's strange, indeed, he thought. She grabbed the book from the floor and eyed Draco, her face turning even redder. God, she was dirty! It was as if somebody had given her a punch on both eyes, and this didn't help him to regain control of himself. She approached him, glancing at him now and then with what she wanted to be a sexy glance, but this just made him laugh harder.

'You should laugh more frequently, Mr. Malfoy. You always look angry with the whole world, but I like it when you dimple here.' She showed him where his dimple was with her dirty hand. Then, she picked up the file that he had requested and tossed it to him. It had been under the big book that had fallen onto the floor--no wonder she'd been unable to find it.

'Dimple?' Draco raised an eyebrow at those words. He quickly skimmed through the file she had given him, checking that it was the right one.

'Yes . . . err . . . I'm sorry . . . I didn't mean to . . . how rude I must seem. I beg your pardon, sir--' She blushed again and skimmed her dirty hand over her cheek, nervously. Draco smiled.

'Don't worry. Go wash that face of yours, you look like a Sioux,' he said, unable to contain his laughter any longer. She stared at her dirty hand, and suddenly realized what he was talking about. She blushed even more and ran to the toilet. Draco continued laughing all the time, as he skimmed the content of his file once more, and left.

'Good morning, Mr. Malfoy.' He just had entered the ante-room of Fudge's office and, as usually, Marion was smiling at him. He grinned back and she immediately frowned, grabbing one of the waiting memos and starting to read it nervously. 'You're here . . . to get those papers? God . . . can you wait five minutes? I'll be right back.' She tried to hide something that she had been reading before he entered the room and stood up, running away.

Draco shook his head, disappointed. That girl would never get better. He waited until she had left the room and then approached her desk; it was a complete mess, as always. How could she be a secretary, he wondered. He often had had to deal with other girls like her, but they were all very ordered, and efficient.

However . . . however he couldn't help but find her interesting. At first he had hated the way she acted, and he still found it annoying. But . . . he couldn't help chuckling as he recalled the Sioux accident. Today his father should've gone to get the files himself, but Draco had insisted that he go instead--if Lucius caught sight of the mess he'd probably complain to Fudge.

He glanced at the place where Marion had hastily hidden what she had been reading before he had entered the room. It was a sort of small book, which showed on its cover a boy, Or is it a girl? Bah . . . dressed in blue. He or she looked like a Muggle, or at least they dressed like one; besides, the small book must have been printed by Muggles, because it had their style of printing. What strange taste she has . . .

He picked it up and started to skim through it. It was a comic book; Draco had read a few during his childhood, the ones drawn by wizards. He had been a huge fan of a story about a weird Muggle. Miss Winterman is far too old to be reading this sort of stuff . . . he thought as he tried to follow the drawings. The balloons were written with strange signs . . .the language definitely wasn't English.

'Mr. Malfoy!' Draco gasped at her shout. He glanced in the voice's direction and tried to get rid of the book, instinctively, but didn't really put it down. 'I know it took me longer than usual to bring you these papers . . . but . . . it's not nice of you to . . .' she said, her voice showing her concern. She rested the files she was holding on the desk and pulled the small book out of his hands, blushing.

'I reckon you're not paid for reading that stuff,' he said, smirking. 'Or maybe is this a special mission Fudge had given to you?' Noticing her evident embarrassment, his anger faded away. She really was funny . . . redder than ever and stammering to find a good excuse for what he just had found out.

'Err . . . it's that . . . Um . . .'

'You've kept me waiting, but it's not a big deal. I won't say a word, don't worry. However . . . today my father could've been the one to come here, and he wouldn't have let you off so easily. After all, you didn't prepare the papers that I asked you to days ago because of . . . lack of attention,' he said, trying to look serious and eyeing the comic book that the girl was holding, as he emphasised the last words.

'I-I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I swear!' she said, bowing in front of him several times.

'I reckon you've read too many comics, miss. There's no need to bow like that,' he retorted, causing her to blush even more and mutter other words of excuse, looking mortified. He was having fun teasing her--after all, she seemed to attract trouble.

'I'm sorry,' she said, again. Then, she took the files that she had left the room to look for and passed them to Draco, hiding the comic in a drawer of her desk. 'Anyway, here are the papers you've asked me to prepare. I hope they're all there.'

'Yes, I think so. Good thing you came back so quickly, if the weather predictors aren't wrong, there will probably be a snow storm today, and I have other errands,' he said, quickly glancing at the window as he skimmed through his files. Even if the weather inside the Ministry of Magic was made artificially, the windows were charmed to show the weather outside. And by what the window showed, it looked like the first snowflakes were already starting to fall.

Marion stared at the weather outside, her eyes growing wide in amazement. She ran to the window, squealed and ran out the door, quickly reaching the corridor. Draco was shocked by her reaction, and decided to follow her; after all, he had everything he needed from that office.

Marion ran along the corridor, down the steps to reach the hall and then outside. Draco went to wait for the lift to reach his floor, but he immediately changed his mind and ran after her--who knew what she would do? Maybe she'd finally cracked.

He reached the girl, who had stopped to catch her breath just few steps from the telephone-box door which was the guest entrance to the Ministry.

'Why on the earth--' he snapped at her, between breaths.

'The snow . . . Look, Mr. Malfoy . . . it's snowing!' she murmured under her breath, like a little girl staring at a new doll. She had intertwined her hands and her eyes were dreamy.

'Yes, it tends to do that when it gets cold during the winter,' he retorted, unable to understand why she was making such a fuss about it. Yes, it wasn't that frequent for London that it snowed . . . but it did happen sometimes.

'I have always loved the snow, Mr. Malfoy. My family left to live in Miami years ago, this is the first time that I have seen the snow in a while!' She kept staring at the snowflakes that were slowly increasing their speed. She really looked like a child; Draco just couldn't keep his usual frown while observing her. It's so difficult to look "angry with the whole world" when I'm with her, he thought.

'I understand,' he said, approaching her and draping his cloak over her shoulders; she had run out without even stopping to take something to keep herself warm.

'Mr. Malfoy, do you know what becomes of snow when it melts?' she asked, tearing her glance from the cloudy sky and quickly glancing at him. Draco found himself thinking about the question, and not knowing how to answer.

'Err . . . I don't know. Water? Vapour?' he asked, doubtfully. Marion's eyes crinkled as he spoke, but the girl merely shook her head. In front of them, the Muggle crowd walking through the street hurried to open their umbrellas and ran for cover as the snowfall increased all of sudden.

'No, Mr. Malfoy, you're wrong. It turns spring.' She turned in his direction again, a sweet smile spreading over her face. That smile was completely different from the one she had often showed him when he had entered her office; it was true, genuine.

In the soft light of that mid December's day, as the sky became even darker and the snow falling to the ground started to grow into a storm, Draco thought that Marion's smiling face was the most beautiful thing that he'd ever seen.

'Malfoy? Malfoy?'

He felt someone shaking him, as he unwillingly returned to reality. The room was surrounded in darkness, the only light came from the point of the wand in front of him.

'Huh?' he groaned, waking up and trying to sit up. He shivered from the cold as his body objected to the way he'd slept. His clothes seemed to have tangled around him while he had been asleep and he pulled to right them quickly. He looked around and noticed that Ginny Weasley was staring at him, frowning. He sighed.

'You really must've been tired, falling asleep on the mattress, without even making the bed.' She forced him to stand up, and then used her wand to command the blankets to set themselves. A few moments later the bed was made. She then placed a tray into his hands.

'Here, I've brought to you something to eat before sleeping.'

Draco put the tray on the desk that Hermione had mended a few hours before. He was still half asleep and wasn't able to think clearly. Worse, he was shivering, and he wasn't feeling very well. He felt his sight blurring and tried to fight the unease that was eating away at him.

Ginny was walking through the room, observing the various boxes that Hermione had filled earlier that evening. But suddenly she heard something fall to the floor. She turned to Draco and her heart sank--everything that she had brought had been knocked to the floor as Draco dropped to his knees, his hands on his temples. A moment later, he collapsed onto the floor. Ginny approached him immediately, trying to wake him up.

'Malfoy? Malfoy please wake up!' He was turning paler and paler, and trembling like a leaf. Her infamous slaps, which had awakened Harry many times, were useless. Ginny panicked. Harry knew how to fight against the Dementors, Draco didn't.

'Good Morning, Mr. Malfoy! How may I help you?' Marion saw him entering the office and smiled--that sweet and genuine smile she had reserved only for him since the day they had seen the snow together. Several months had passed since that time, and the way the girl acted with him had slowly changed.

He didn't see her that much; he had had to leave for Romania, to take care of some business that his father had there. It seemed that the Dark Lord had been seen there, and Lucius didn't want his Master to think that he had betrayed him again. But Draco hadn't found anything while he was there. Now it was early July, and he was once again stuck in Fudge's office, trying to collect a few files for his father.

'Good morning, Miss Winterman. My father wants to know if the files that he asked you to find in his last memo are ready.' He saw her raise a finger to her mouth and stare at the ceiling, doubtfully. He sighed. Damn her, she would never change, after all! 'Don't you remember? The ones about the taxes of--' he drawled tiredly, and a sudden flash passed through Marion's dark eyes.

'How could I possibly forget about them? I'm terribly sorry, Mr. Malfoy. . ..' She ran out the room, blushing.

Draco smirked; as always, the desk was a complete mess. He had a look at it and saw that, lying between the various files and folders there was a piece of cake and a glass filled with something that looked like water. He looked around and noticed that the rest of the cake was hidden under the desk. Marion probably didn't want anyone to see it, if they suddenly entered the room like he had done.

If she keeps it there, absent-minded as she is, she will walk over it before the end of the day, he thought, keeping his smirk alive. Then, he had a better look under her folders; he immediately caught a glimpse of what he had known would be there and picked it up. Yet another comic-book . . . no, she really would never change.

She's taking longer than usual, he thought, bored. Since he was there, and had that book in his hands, he started to skim through it, distractedly. It seemed to be the story of two Muggles . . . how boring. Then, he turned a page and suddenly his eyes went wide with surprise. He started to cough madly, as he forgot how to swallow and began to choke. The page had a picture of two men . . . yes, they were clearly men this time . . . kissing! And they weren't just kissing, then. . ..

'I beg your pardon Mr. Mal . . .MR. MALFOY, DON'T READ THAT!' Marion's voice made him recover from the shock. Still coughing, he raised his glance to her face and stared at her; she was redder than he'd ever seen her before. She pulled the small book out his hands, like the last time, and had a look at the page that he had stopped at. She gulped as her face went even redder than before. 'Err. . ..'

'What the hell are you reading?' Draco asked when he had finally recovered.

'Err . . . so . . . this is . . . you know . . . yaoi.'

'Yao . . . what?'

'Yaoi . . . err . . . gay love.' She saw his sceptical glance and blushed even more. 'No, Mr. Malfoy, please don't look at me like that . . . I have no strange tendencies . . . that is, there's nothing bad in it . . . but. . ..'

'I think that you should stop reading that rubbish. Maybe you'll be more efficient.' He took a big breath and cleared his throat, trying to forget what he had just seen. 'Were you eating a cake?' he asked, trying to change subject. He noticed that Marion had chocolate all round her mouth and he grinned.

'Err . . . yes, it's my birthday, today . . . you know, what you were skimming through was a gift from a friend of mine,' she said putting the book into a drawer.

'Huh . . . best wishes,' he said, not showing much interest. 'You should choose your friends more carefully.'

'She sent this present to me because she knew that I li . . . err . . . that is. . ..' Marion blushed and glared at him. 'Do you want a piece of cake?' she asked. He nodded; she knelt down to get the tray with the cake and immediately cut a piece for him.

'Why are you eating that alone?' he asked.

'My family is stuck in Miami, and all my friends live there as well. I had nobody to eat it with,' she replied, as the look in her eyes changed from embarrassment to sadness. 'I came back because I found a job.'

Draco noticed that Marion was becoming even sadder. So that was why. . ..What his father had said was true; Lucius had told Draco that the Wintermans had problems with money and that Mrs Fudge had asked her husband to take Marion as his secretary, to help them.

'The Fudges are relatives of yours. Can't you stay with them?'

'I already give Uncle Cornelius enough problems during the day. I don't want to disturb him,' she retorted, staring at nothing. But immediately she shook her head and regained her cheerful look. She smiled at him--a courteous smile, this time. Draco was amazed by how easily he noticed the difference.

He stared at her, surprised, as she picked up her plate and held it in her hands, resuming her eating. 'I'm not alone anymore, now, after all. You're with me, Mr. Malfoy. Whadd'ya think about drinking some champagne? My friends sent me a full bottle, but I don't want to drink it alone.'

He nodded, smirking at her slight American accent; she was born and had spent her childhood here, but staying in Miami had changed the way that she talked. Funny that he had never noticed it . . .perhaps she normally tried to suppress her accent.

While he had been thinking, Marion had once again knelt down and had picked up a bottle of Pinot Noir, using her wand to uncork it. The cork banged suddenly and jerked away, bouncing off the ceiling and falling to the other side of the room.

'Seems like neither of us will marry, this year,' Draco said, smiling as she filled a glass she had just created by transfiguring a clean ash-tray.

'It never has happened to me, even in the past, Mr. Malfoy. Maybe it means that I won't ever marry.' She stared at him, seriously, and then continued, smiling. 'Who knows . . .right now I'm happy enough reading love stories and daydreaming.'

Draco raised his glass and bumped it against Marion's, staring at her. Of course, her glass had been transfigured as well . . . it wasn't easy finding glasses in the Office of the Minister for Magic, Draco imagined.

'Instead of contenting yourself with dreaming, you should look for the right man,' he said. He finished eating his piece of cake and made a mental compliment to the cook. Did that cake really came from Miami? Which type of owl had they used?

'Mr. Malfoy, your mouth is covered with chocolate,' Marion said, eyeing him as she finished eating hers.

'Yours is as well. Where's the chocolate? Here?' He moved his hand to clean it off, but she was quicker. Draco didn't understand why--and he'd thought about it a lot of times since, and he had never found a reason--but the soft touch of those tiny fingers on his cheek felt like fire to him.

He didn't even notice, but his hand ran to grab hers, and stopped it. Her eyes widened and her face turned red as he stared at her, but she didn't move. They stared into each others eyes, for a long moment; Draco felt his own heartbeat, and was sure that Marion's was as fast as his. Suddenly, he saw that she was trying to get away, and he made his decision. Quickly, he grabbed her, forced her to him and put his lips over hers. They tasted of chocolate.

She couldn't believe it. He was kissing her . . . she had spent the last minutes trying not to panic, but nothing could be compared to what was she feeling at that moment. She tried to wriggle away with all her strength, but his hold was too tight.

She had managed to lay him on his bed, despite the difficulty of the task due to his weight and inability to cooperate. Then she had tried to wake him up, doing everything she could think of. It was as if he was delirious--he had even coughed, at one point, and she had got seriously scared about it. She had slapped him on the face many times, then, after the last slap, Draco had opened his eyes. She had only noticed how close she had been standing to him when he had violently pushed her down on the bed beside him, and had jumped on top of her, kissing her all of a sudden.

So now, here they were, on his bed, and he was over her . . . kissing her. If somebody came into the room, what would they think of the situation? Please, don't let Harry come in here . . . or Ron . . . thought Ginny, desperately trying to wriggle away. If they found them like this, what would she say? To struggle was useless, only seeming to make it worse, she mused. And, what was really giving her the creeps--or was it something else?--was the awareness that she didn't really mind it. Yes, she didn't mind it at all. In fact, a small part of her was enjoying it. The other part of her mind, though, was yelling at her brain that the person who was kissing her was Draco Malfoy.

When the boy finally left her lips and started to kiss her jaw and then her neck, Ginny managed to regain her sanity, and screamed into his ear as loudly as she could, 'MALFOY! WAKE UP AND GET OFF ME RIGHT NOW!' This seemed get through to him, because Draco stopped. A moment later a pair of grey eyes were staring at her, his pale face showing astonishment.

'What--' he drawled. The loud slap that she delivered to his face seconds later prevented him saying anything else. Ginny pushed him off her with all her strength and stood up quickly; she smoothed down her robes, still glaring at him with a look of pure and utter rage. Then, she ran away.

Draco put one hand to his slapped cheek and stared at the wall, blinking. He felt a shiver running down his spine.

Author's Note:

Here it is, chapter seven is finished! I'm sorry for the delay, but I've had a lot of things happening in my life since last update.

Ezmeralda: Yeah, Draco is much like Lucius. He's not the "redeemed Draco" all mushy and nice. He's still himself, but is changed. I hope that I've made him look real, but still IC. Big hope, huh?

livy: thank you for the three reviews! I'm happy you're enjoying the story :). The best part is yet to come, though ;) just keep listening to this chann. . . ops, wrong line . . . I was meaning, just keep reading this story!

hpfanmelissa: err . . . it's not a nice thing to read in a review . . . but probably it's my fault, because I don't update frequently. So, to keep it short, Draco was running away from Dementors, because he's wanted for his family being composed by Death Eaters. Harry saves his life and Draco finds himself living with the fantastic trio, Sirius and Ginny, and is forced to help them to pay his life's debt. They are looking for info for the Green Torch, because in his seventh year Harry has defeated Voldemort using it but the Dark Lord is returned, therefore it was a useless victory. Now Harry and his group are hiding from Voldemort and Draco is hiding from the ministry.

Anonymous: thank you!