Chapter 5 – Muggling Home
A jackdaw circled lazily over a field, searching for snails and berries in the scrub below. The early morning sun gleamed off its wings, which flashed iridescent blues and greens as the bird wheeled in a widening arc, heading steadily southward. It gave a few languid flaps, distracted suddenly from its hunt by the sight of a strange herd already feeding on its favorite berry bushes. Its prospect of an easy meal ruined by these unexpected interlopers, the jackdaw gave a raucous “Caw!” and flew off.
Below, the strange “herd” continued grazing. Two witches and two wizards were spread out along a row of blackberry bushes, eating silently and contentedly. If the jackdaw had continued its observation, it would have marked the distinct differences between each of the four. The smallest, a slightly chubby witch, plucked the ripe berries quickly and frequently stuck a finger or thumb in her mouth as she accidentally met a thorn in the thick bramble. Nearest to her was a young wizard, his short hair a rich brown; he ate more slowly, dividing his attention between berry seeking and the small witch beside him.
“Slow down, Liz – you won’t have any fingers left at the rate you’re going!”
A few yards away, another witch, this one with fiery red hair and a delicate build, was also breakfasting on the blackberries. This witch pulled her berries slowly from the bush, making a small mound of them in the palm of her hand before eating any. As she ate she seemed lost in thought, sometimes only holding a berry between her thumb and forefinger distractedly for a few moments before raising it to her mouth.
Beyond her stood the tallest of the group, a pale wizard who plucked each berry with a slow and easy grace, his taper fingers easily navigating through the thorny bushes. Of the four, he was the only one who seemed alert to his surroundings, his eyes frequently scanning the line of the trees for signs of movement. He also cast the occasional glance at the red-haired witch nearby, glances that she in her distracted state was oblivious to.
The first excitement of their kiss past, Ginny was left feeling confused and guilty. A whole troop of Death Eaters could have stormed up to her with Voldemort leading them, and Ginny probably wouldn’t have noticed.
Sweet Circe, what did I do? Well, I know what I did – I kissed Draco sodding Malfoy – but what the bloody hell was I thinking? I mean, it was Malfoy! Really, Ginny, remember him? Git who made life miserable for your brother and his friends – your friends – for years? And you cheated on Harry with him! Ginny accidentally crushed the berry she was holding, her fingers closing on it convulsively. Except it wasn’t cheating on Harry, a more rational part of her said. Harry broke up with you, remember?
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me! That doesn’t mean I don’t love him! And how badly he’d be hurt if he found out I snogged Malfoy! Ginny felt her chest constricting and forced herself to take a deep breath. Be rational, Ginny. It was just one kiss. It won’t happen again. But it hadn’t been just one kiss, and Ginny knew it. It had been the most amazing kiss she’d ever had. Draco’s lips had met hers, and the whole world swirled away – he was everything. Ginny hadn’t been able to think, she could only feel – the softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the heat of his palms against her cheeks, the fabric of his robes brushing against the skin of her neck – it awakened an ache inside of her she’d never felt before. No one had ever kissed her like that – not Michael Corner, not Dean Thomas, not even Harry. But Harry’s kisses are good – warm and sweet and safe. The kind of kiss that makes you want to smile from ear to ear like a loony. Draco’s kiss on the other hand – she didn’t know how it made her feel – whether she wanted to smile afterwards, or slap him, or pull him to her and make him do it again and again and again.
It’s some weird physical attraction, that’s what it is. Some animal urge is all. And really, that’s not so big a deal. Lots of people are attracted to one another – it’s natural. And as long as it’s just a physical thing, it doesn’t really matter, does it? My heart belongs to Harry, after all, and nothing could change that.
Ginny suddenly thought of the conversation she’d had with Hermione following her Draco daydream. Hermione had asked, “Didn’t it reveal your deep, subconscious longings?” But of course she was wrong, wasn’t she? I mean, this is all just coincidence. I never thought of Draco like that before that weird daydream – not even subconsciously. At least she didn’t think so.
Ginny stole a glance at him. He plucked berries methodically, a neutral expression on his face, but she had the feeling he knew she was looking at him. She wondered how he managed it, how he could look so calm, like nothing ever affected him. Even when he’d kissed her, his face hadn’t revealed any excitement, any emotion. Well, perhaps surprise, she thought. But there had been something there when he first found me – he had seemed so angry. But what’s angry? That doesn’t mean anything. It certainly doesn’t mean he cares about you. This – thing – between you, it’s just physical for him, too.
Ginny sighed, wondering why she even cared how Draco felt about her. And thinking about him only left her feeling more confused than ever.
“We should move on,” he said, his silky voice sliding across her thoughts like a stick trailing through water, sending ripples to the far corners of her mind. She shuddered involuntarily before looking up at him.
“You’re right,” she replied.
-----
The four made their way back into the woods and continued traveling westward, the sun climbing into the sky behind them. Draco set a fast pace, and no one spoke much as they struggled to keep up with him. Ginny felt an awkwardness growing between her and Draco – only a few hours ago they had kissed, had shared something so intimate – and now she was having trouble even meeting his eyes. He hadn’t made any move to renew their contact – wasn’t speaking to her really, not any more than he did to Lizzie or Kevin – and Ginny got the sense that he was waiting for her, waiting to see how she’d react to him given the time to think things over. She realized that she didn’t know him, not really, at all. And that she wanted to.
“Draco . . .” she began hesitantly, quickening her pace to catch up to him. He slowed down slightly and glanced at her. Ginny didn’t know how to begin. She wanted to ask him why he had kissed her, why he had suddenly found her attractive enough to do something that went totally against his character, against all that he believed in. But she didn’t know how to even begin when he was looking at her so intently, his expression unreadable.
“What was it like for you, growing up?” she asked instead, feeling completely foolish for it. He raised an eyebrow, apparently not expecting the question. Then he shrugged carelessly.
“Summers in France, winters in Switzerland – no different than any childhood, I suppose.”
Ginny stifled a laugh. No different than any childhood, indeed, she thought, trying to picture the Weasley clan sunning themselves on the French Riviera. “That’s not what I meant. I mean – what was it like, you know, with your parents?”
It was Draco’s turn to laugh a short, mirthless bark. “You mean, with two beings of pure evil? You want to know if we made blood sacrifices before every meal?” He sighed and ran a hand through his white-blonde hair. “No, I’m sorry to shatter your fantasy, but my parents were fairly normal. My father was away a lot, business trips, dealings with the Ministry, that kind of thing, and my mother spent most of her time organizing parties, showing the world what it means to be a Malfoy. I was taught to do the same – to have a proper sense of pride. I might not agree with the extremes my father has gone to, not anymore, but he’s right to be proud. The pureblood families are simply better than everyone else, and the Malfoys are the best of the best.” Ginny rolled her eyes, but Draco ignored her.
“My father was never exactly a warm man,” he continued. “But I always thought that deep down, he loved me. That he was proud of me. He never said so, of course – he never praised me, not once – it was always ‘You could have done better, a real Malfoy would have done better,’ but I thought that was just to spur me on, make me stronger. It wasn’t until he offered to kill me – his own son – that I realized he never cared about me, I was always just another piece of property to him. My mother, though – I know she loves me.”
Ginny, thinking of the coldness and selfishness etched into every line of Narcissa Malfoy’s face, snorted in disbelief.
“What? Don’t you think anyone could love me? Is that so impossible?” Draco demanded. Ginny was surprised by his sudden anger.
“No, Draco, I’m sorry – I wasn’t thinking that. It’s just, your mother has always seemed so . . .”
“My mother is a weak woman, foolish – I know that,” he interrupted. “But . . .” his voice trailed off.
“I’m sure she loves you – you’re right,” Ginny said quickly. He glanced at her and then looked away.
“I used to have nightmares,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed forward, not meeting her gaze. “Every night, when I was young. They were about my father, but I always said I couldn’t remember what I had dreamt. It was always the same dream though. I was in the library, at home, but everything was cold and dark. My mother was beside me, and Father, he was always standing by the fireplace, except there was no fire in it. Mother would tell me to go to him, that it was proper that I go to him and hug him. And I was always scared to, in the dream, but I didn’t know why. And I’d go to him, and hug him, and he’d start to hug back, like everything was fine, but then he’d be squeezing too tight, squeezing so hard it hurt and I couldn’t breathe, and I knew that he was trying to kill me. And he’d be laughing and my mother would be standing next to him and she’d be laughing, too. That’s when I would wake up. I’d wake up screaming, and the house elves always heard me and told my parents. Mother would come, then. She used to sit by my bed, and she’d stroke my forehead and make me imagine someplace nice until I fell asleep again. That’s how I know she loves me.”
Ginny was silent.
“What was the nice place you imagined?” she asked finally.
Draco shook his head and laughed softly. “I imagined deer,” he said. “I imagined I was looking at a field full of deer. I don’t know why – I guess it seemed peaceful to me.” He shook his head again.
“My mum used to do the same for me, when I had bad dreams,” Ginny said. “I used to have this one about being chased by a dragon. It was horrible. But Mum would sit there, and I’d just know that everything was okay, that I was safe with her.”
“A scary dragon, huh?” Draco laughed, but he looked at her with an almost grateful expression on his face.
“It was scary!” Ginny replied, and she laughed too, glad that the mood between them had lightened, that the tension was lifted. They continued on without speaking, but now the silence between them seemed almost companionable.
-----
The heat of the summer sun slowly filtered through the trees, and when the four travelers came across an inviting stream, they decided to rest for a while. Kevin, half joking and half serious, waded into the water and tried to catch a sunfish.
“We could cook it and eat it!” he said.
“No, no fires,” Draco said. “The smoke might be spotted.” Ginny sighed. A bit of fish had sounded nice.
“I’m so hungry,” Lizzie said, voicing Ginny’s feelings exactly.
“We’ve got these,” Draco replied, spreading open the robe he’d been carrying and revealing that he’d had the forethought to bring some of the blackberries with them. There wasn’t much there – enough for each of them to eat a handful – but, Ginny thought, it was better than starving.
“You know,” she said as she finished the meager lunch, “I used to love blackberries. I’m not sure I’ll ever eat them again though after this is all over.”
“My mum makes great blackberry pie,” Lizzie said. “I’d still eat that.”
The four of them reclined wearily in the shade of the trees along the stream’s bank. They weren’t tired enough to sleep, but they were too tired to continue walking.
“Hey Kevin, I thought of a story while we were walking. Do you want to hear it?” Lizzie asked.
“Lizzie’s going to be a writer some day,” Kevin said by way of explanation to Ginny and Draco. “She’s always coming up with neat stories.” Lizzie blushed at her brother’s compliment.
“That’s great, Lizzie,” smiled Ginny.
“I don’t know that they’re any good, but Kev is always nice enough to listen,” Lizzie replied.
“I think I need to soak my feet,” Ginny said, “I don’t think they’ve ever been so sore.” She stood up and made her way to the stream bank. “I can still hear you from here, though Lizzie, if you want to tell your story.” Pulling off her shoes and socks, and rolling up her jeans, she dipped her feet in the cool water. Lizzie’s voice trailed over from behind her.
“. . . upon a time, there was a beautiful witch, who was also a princess . . .”
Ginny leaned back on her elbows and was surprised when Draco sat down beside her, quickly removing his footwear and placing his feet in the stream, too. They sat side by side, shoulders almost touching, neither speaking.
“. . . and the hex was a terrible one, and her parents cried and cried . . .”
“Why did you kiss me?” Ginny asked abruptly in a low voice. She didn’t look at Draco, and when he didn’t respond right away, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her.
“I don’t know,” he replied finally. “Why did you kiss back?”
“I don’t know.” Both were silent again.
“. . . and the hex finally took effect, and everyone had to leave the castle, and the poor princess witch was all alone . . .”
“I thought you had a girlfriend – aren’t you with Pugsy Parkinson?” Ginny saw a smile flit across Draco’s face.
“Pansy and I aren’t dating – not in the sense you mean,” he replied.
“Then what is it? You’re always together. She looks at you like she’s starving and you’re her favorite dessert.” Draco laughed out loud this time.
“It’s a matter of convenience – for me at any rate. Our parents expect us to be together. Even before we started Hogwarts, we were always thrown together. Every dinner party, every gala event – our mothers would force us together and coo over us. I suppose I was expected to marry her one day, and I know she would have been pleased to be the next Mrs. Malfoy – but I’ve never had feelings for her. She’s not supposed to have feelings for me, either. It’s a business arrangement.” He shrugged. “One benefit of my – failure – is that she wouldn’t come near me now with a ten foot pole.”
“. . . and the brave wizard prince felt drawn to the abandoned castle, and even though he knew that others had tried and perished before, he had to go on . . .”
“And what about you,” he continued, a note of hesitation in his voice. “Aren’t you dating anyone?”
Ginny sighed. “I was,” she said. “Harry and I broke up though. He was worried I might get hurt in the war because of him.”
“How very . . . noble of him,” Draco said with a faint sneer, and they both dropped back into silence.
“. . . but he didn’t see the dragon’s talons in time, and he was clawed down his chest . . .”
Draco abruptly turned to her. “I kissed you because when I thought I was going to die in that dungeon I opened my eyes and saw you, and you looked warm, like the fireplace in my bedroom or a sunset. I kissed you because when you look at me, it’s like you’re really looking at me, not at my money or my name. I kissed you because you’re nice to me, and you make me actually want to be nice to you. I kissed you because you’re beautiful. I kissed you –” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Ginny leaned in suddenly and kissed him.
“. . .enough, and the hex was lifted, and she knelt by him and her tears fell on him . . .”
Draco’s arms snaked around her, pulling her against him so that he could kiss her more deeply.
“. . . and it turned out that he was NOT DEAD, because she had healed him with the magic of her tears . . .”
Ginny ran her fingers through his hair, over his cheeks, tasting the sweetness of him in her mouth, feeling his heat through her clothes.
“. . . knew that it was his love that had saved her from the hex, and hers that had saved him from the dragon’s wound . . .”
They pulled apart, his arms still around her waist, hers pressed against his chest where she could feel the rapid beat of his heart. Their eyes were locked together, and Ginny knew that whatever this was, between them, he felt it too, and she didn’t want to fight it, didn’t know if she could fight it.
“. . . family could return, and they were married and lived happily ever after, the end.”
Ginny broke away from Draco’s embrace and looked back at Lizzie and Kevin.
“That was great,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. She scrambled to her feet and returned to where the Pullmans were sitting, Draco following behind her.
“That was a nice story, Lizzie,” he said quietly. Lizzie turned a deep red at the unexpected compliment.
“Thank you,” she said. “It needs work, I think. All that love stuff seems too cheesy . . .”
-----
Over the next two days, the four of them fell into an easy pattern of long intervals of walking followed by short rests, regardless of whether it was day or night. Nuts and berries were not hard to find in the fertile summer season, and this far south the forest was thickly crossed with streams and rivulets running toward the ocean and providing ample drinking water. Draco, Ginny and Kevin alternated guard duties.
Draco and Ginny fell into an easy pattern as well, and if either of them had grown up in a Muggle household, they might have seen the similarities between their journey and the countless Disney movies where a talking dog and cat must put aside their differences to find their way back home. Ginny grew used to Draco – his brooding silences, his sarcastic remarks, his sometimes barely repressed impatience with all of them – because underneath all of that, she was learning about a different Draco entirely, one that was thoughtful, and felt deeply, and seemed to see right into the center of her. She grew used to his touch as well – not used to it in a way that took away the punch she felt every time he kissed her, the sudden painful flutter in her chest, but used to it in a way that meant she could feel the absence of him when he wasn’t near her. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they would keep their relationship a secret from Lizzie and Kevin, and for that Ginny was grateful. She told herself that she didn’t want the Pullmans to feel awkward, but deep down, she didn’t want her family to find out, or Harry. None of them would ever be able to understand.
And so, when Lizzie and Kevin were asleep, Draco would hold her in his arms, and sometimes they would kiss until Ginny could barely breathe for wanting more of him, and sometimes they would simply whisper to each other about nothing, about everything. Ginny found that she liked talking to Draco as much as she liked kissing him.
On the afternoon of the third day, or perhaps the fourth – Ginny had lost track – the woods ended abruptly and they were standing at the side of a road. In the distance was a town, nestled in a little valley between rolling downs. Ginny took in the road, took in the town, and suddenly jumped in the air.
“Oh! Oh!” she cried, almost flapping her arms at her companions. “We’re saved! This is it!”
“What are you on about, woman?” Draco drawled, eyeing her like she’d just sprouted a second head.
“It’s a road!” Ginny said, not even caring that she sounded crazy. “It’s a road, and all we have to do is wait right here, and the Knight Bus will come for us – transportation for the stranded witch or wizard!”
Draco’s face maintained its skeptical expression, but behind him, both Kevin and Lizzie began making excited noises.
“She’s right!” and “I’ve heard of the Knight Bus!” exclaimed Lizzie and Kevin simultaneously.
“I don’t like it,” Draco said.
“What?” Ginny grinned playfully. “Public transportation too low class for you?”
Draco’s expression remained serious.
“I don’t like us being out in the open like this.”
“It shouldn’t take long – flash the wand and we just wait here for a few minutes and it should show up – that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“We can try it, but all of you, stay alert.” Draco pulled out Wormtail’s wand and waved it at the road. Then they waited. At first the four of them remained standing, nervous excitement keeping them silent and breathless. After fifteen minutes had passed, Kevin sat down, and then Lizzie, while Ginny remained upright, her eyes glued to the road. Draco continued warily monitoring their surroundings.
Another fifteen minutes passed, and Kevin and Lizzie began to exchange downcast looks.
“I don’t think it’s coming, Gin,” Draco said quietly. Ginny didn’t reply. She refused to believe that the Knight Bus wouldn’t come for them. It had seemed like everything was about to be alright again – no more weary trekking through endless woods, no more sleeping on the ground, no more trying to survive on what they could scavenge. For a short time, she had seen the end to all of this – could almost feel her mother’s embrace when she arrived at the Burrow. Tears sprung into her eyes and she met Draco’s sympathetic gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We need to keep moving.” As she nodded silently, feeling the hard lump in her throat, her attention was suddenly arrested by the sound of an approaching vehicle. Cresting the hill and kicking up an amazing dust cloud was a very old, red Ford pickup truck. It screeched to a halt right in front of them.
All four of them stood speechlessly staring at the truck as a grizzled old man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a beanie, and a pair of extremely large sunglasses leaned out his window. Lifting the sunglasses off of his nose to reveal rather twinkly eyes, he spoke. There was something about him that was friendly and strangely familiar, Ginny thought.
“You kids need a ride?” The four of them looked at each other in mute amazement at being so addressed by a Muggle. Ginny was the first to speak.
“Yes . . . yes, we do need a ride. May we . . . drive with you in your automobile?” she felt a bit smug at being able to converse so fluently using the Muggle terms her father taught her. The other three just looked at her.
The Muggle laughed. “Well, where you headed?”
“Er . . . to Ottery St. Catchpole,” Ginny replied, naming the Muggle village closest to the Burrow.
“How about that!” the Muggle replied. “Headed in the same direction myself! You kids are more than welcome to come along. I can take one of you in the front, the rest can ride with Lou.” He indicated the bed of the pickup truck where, nestled in a pile of straw, a large white goat was eyeing them. “Louisa-love, you don’t mind a little company, do you?” he asked the goat, which gave no indication one way or another as to its preferences.
“Oh, wonderful!” Ginny replied. Draco caught her arm.
“Ginny,” he said under his breath, “do you really think that’s a good idea?” Ginny gave him a pleading look and he sighed.
“I’ll ride in front, sir,” he said to the Muggle and gave Ginny a look that said “I’ll hex him to oblivion if he tries anything – you keep safe in the back.” Ginny almost laughed at his tense caution. It was just a Muggle, after all, and a very old one at that.
“Good, then,” said the Muggle. “Glad to have you all on board. Name’s Abe – this here is Louisa.”
“It’s a pleasure, I’m sure,” Draco replied as he climbed into the front seat, the disdain in his voice making Ginny wince.
He’d better behave himself.
Lizzie, Kevin and Ginny climbed into the back with Louisa, who eyed them all steadily before returning to the bit of grass she was chewing. Lizzie smiled widely.
“I’ve never ridden in a Muggle car,” she said excitedly. Ginny smiled back.
“Hold on!” shouted Abe from the cabin, as he tore off down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust behind.
Ginny leaned back in the straw and allowed herself to relax as she felt the sun on her cheeks and the wind rushing through her hair. At this rate, they’d reach the Burrow in no time. She closed her eyes and listened to the snatches of conversation coming from the cabin of the truck. It sounded like Abe was talking Draco’s ear off, and Ginny almost felt pity for him, knowing his feelings for Muggles in general.
Maybe it will be good for him. How can you hate something you know nothing about anyway?
Ginny opened her eyes and was startled to find Louisa staring directly at her. She could have sworn the goat winked at her.
Impossible, she thought, shaking her head and closing her eyes again. The truck rattled its way down the road, and Ginny dreamed of home.
-----
A/N: Thank you to every one who's been reading along so far. An especially big thank you to those of you who've reviewed -- all your comments mean a lot to me!
A jackdaw circled lazily over a field, searching for snails and berries in the scrub below. The early morning sun gleamed off its wings, which flashed iridescent blues and greens as the bird wheeled in a widening arc, heading steadily southward. It gave a few languid flaps, distracted suddenly from its hunt by the sight of a strange herd already feeding on its favorite berry bushes. Its prospect of an easy meal ruined by these unexpected interlopers, the jackdaw gave a raucous “Caw!” and flew off.
Below, the strange “herd” continued grazing. Two witches and two wizards were spread out along a row of blackberry bushes, eating silently and contentedly. If the jackdaw had continued its observation, it would have marked the distinct differences between each of the four. The smallest, a slightly chubby witch, plucked the ripe berries quickly and frequently stuck a finger or thumb in her mouth as she accidentally met a thorn in the thick bramble. Nearest to her was a young wizard, his short hair a rich brown; he ate more slowly, dividing his attention between berry seeking and the small witch beside him.
“Slow down, Liz – you won’t have any fingers left at the rate you’re going!”
A few yards away, another witch, this one with fiery red hair and a delicate build, was also breakfasting on the blackberries. This witch pulled her berries slowly from the bush, making a small mound of them in the palm of her hand before eating any. As she ate she seemed lost in thought, sometimes only holding a berry between her thumb and forefinger distractedly for a few moments before raising it to her mouth.
Beyond her stood the tallest of the group, a pale wizard who plucked each berry with a slow and easy grace, his taper fingers easily navigating through the thorny bushes. Of the four, he was the only one who seemed alert to his surroundings, his eyes frequently scanning the line of the trees for signs of movement. He also cast the occasional glance at the red-haired witch nearby, glances that she in her distracted state was oblivious to.
The first excitement of their kiss past, Ginny was left feeling confused and guilty. A whole troop of Death Eaters could have stormed up to her with Voldemort leading them, and Ginny probably wouldn’t have noticed.
Sweet Circe, what did I do? Well, I know what I did – I kissed Draco sodding Malfoy – but what the bloody hell was I thinking? I mean, it was Malfoy! Really, Ginny, remember him? Git who made life miserable for your brother and his friends – your friends – for years? And you cheated on Harry with him! Ginny accidentally crushed the berry she was holding, her fingers closing on it convulsively. Except it wasn’t cheating on Harry, a more rational part of her said. Harry broke up with you, remember?
That doesn’t mean he doesn’t love me! That doesn’t mean I don’t love him! And how badly he’d be hurt if he found out I snogged Malfoy! Ginny felt her chest constricting and forced herself to take a deep breath. Be rational, Ginny. It was just one kiss. It won’t happen again. But it hadn’t been just one kiss, and Ginny knew it. It had been the most amazing kiss she’d ever had. Draco’s lips had met hers, and the whole world swirled away – he was everything. Ginny hadn’t been able to think, she could only feel – the softness of his lips, the warmth of his breath, the heat of his palms against her cheeks, the fabric of his robes brushing against the skin of her neck – it awakened an ache inside of her she’d never felt before. No one had ever kissed her like that – not Michael Corner, not Dean Thomas, not even Harry. But Harry’s kisses are good – warm and sweet and safe. The kind of kiss that makes you want to smile from ear to ear like a loony. Draco’s kiss on the other hand – she didn’t know how it made her feel – whether she wanted to smile afterwards, or slap him, or pull him to her and make him do it again and again and again.
It’s some weird physical attraction, that’s what it is. Some animal urge is all. And really, that’s not so big a deal. Lots of people are attracted to one another – it’s natural. And as long as it’s just a physical thing, it doesn’t really matter, does it? My heart belongs to Harry, after all, and nothing could change that.
Ginny suddenly thought of the conversation she’d had with Hermione following her Draco daydream. Hermione had asked, “Didn’t it reveal your deep, subconscious longings?” But of course she was wrong, wasn’t she? I mean, this is all just coincidence. I never thought of Draco like that before that weird daydream – not even subconsciously. At least she didn’t think so.
Ginny stole a glance at him. He plucked berries methodically, a neutral expression on his face, but she had the feeling he knew she was looking at him. She wondered how he managed it, how he could look so calm, like nothing ever affected him. Even when he’d kissed her, his face hadn’t revealed any excitement, any emotion. Well, perhaps surprise, she thought. But there had been something there when he first found me – he had seemed so angry. But what’s angry? That doesn’t mean anything. It certainly doesn’t mean he cares about you. This – thing – between you, it’s just physical for him, too.
Ginny sighed, wondering why she even cared how Draco felt about her. And thinking about him only left her feeling more confused than ever.
“We should move on,” he said, his silky voice sliding across her thoughts like a stick trailing through water, sending ripples to the far corners of her mind. She shuddered involuntarily before looking up at him.
“You’re right,” she replied.
The four made their way back into the woods and continued traveling westward, the sun climbing into the sky behind them. Draco set a fast pace, and no one spoke much as they struggled to keep up with him. Ginny felt an awkwardness growing between her and Draco – only a few hours ago they had kissed, had shared something so intimate – and now she was having trouble even meeting his eyes. He hadn’t made any move to renew their contact – wasn’t speaking to her really, not any more than he did to Lizzie or Kevin – and Ginny got the sense that he was waiting for her, waiting to see how she’d react to him given the time to think things over. She realized that she didn’t know him, not really, at all. And that she wanted to.
“Draco . . .” she began hesitantly, quickening her pace to catch up to him. He slowed down slightly and glanced at her. Ginny didn’t know how to begin. She wanted to ask him why he had kissed her, why he had suddenly found her attractive enough to do something that went totally against his character, against all that he believed in. But she didn’t know how to even begin when he was looking at her so intently, his expression unreadable.
“What was it like for you, growing up?” she asked instead, feeling completely foolish for it. He raised an eyebrow, apparently not expecting the question. Then he shrugged carelessly.
“Summers in France, winters in Switzerland – no different than any childhood, I suppose.”
Ginny stifled a laugh. No different than any childhood, indeed, she thought, trying to picture the Weasley clan sunning themselves on the French Riviera. “That’s not what I meant. I mean – what was it like, you know, with your parents?”
It was Draco’s turn to laugh a short, mirthless bark. “You mean, with two beings of pure evil? You want to know if we made blood sacrifices before every meal?” He sighed and ran a hand through his white-blonde hair. “No, I’m sorry to shatter your fantasy, but my parents were fairly normal. My father was away a lot, business trips, dealings with the Ministry, that kind of thing, and my mother spent most of her time organizing parties, showing the world what it means to be a Malfoy. I was taught to do the same – to have a proper sense of pride. I might not agree with the extremes my father has gone to, not anymore, but he’s right to be proud. The pureblood families are simply better than everyone else, and the Malfoys are the best of the best.” Ginny rolled her eyes, but Draco ignored her.
“My father was never exactly a warm man,” he continued. “But I always thought that deep down, he loved me. That he was proud of me. He never said so, of course – he never praised me, not once – it was always ‘You could have done better, a real Malfoy would have done better,’ but I thought that was just to spur me on, make me stronger. It wasn’t until he offered to kill me – his own son – that I realized he never cared about me, I was always just another piece of property to him. My mother, though – I know she loves me.”
Ginny, thinking of the coldness and selfishness etched into every line of Narcissa Malfoy’s face, snorted in disbelief.
“What? Don’t you think anyone could love me? Is that so impossible?” Draco demanded. Ginny was surprised by his sudden anger.
“No, Draco, I’m sorry – I wasn’t thinking that. It’s just, your mother has always seemed so . . .”
“My mother is a weak woman, foolish – I know that,” he interrupted. “But . . .” his voice trailed off.
“I’m sure she loves you – you’re right,” Ginny said quickly. He glanced at her and then looked away.
“I used to have nightmares,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed forward, not meeting her gaze. “Every night, when I was young. They were about my father, but I always said I couldn’t remember what I had dreamt. It was always the same dream though. I was in the library, at home, but everything was cold and dark. My mother was beside me, and Father, he was always standing by the fireplace, except there was no fire in it. Mother would tell me to go to him, that it was proper that I go to him and hug him. And I was always scared to, in the dream, but I didn’t know why. And I’d go to him, and hug him, and he’d start to hug back, like everything was fine, but then he’d be squeezing too tight, squeezing so hard it hurt and I couldn’t breathe, and I knew that he was trying to kill me. And he’d be laughing and my mother would be standing next to him and she’d be laughing, too. That’s when I would wake up. I’d wake up screaming, and the house elves always heard me and told my parents. Mother would come, then. She used to sit by my bed, and she’d stroke my forehead and make me imagine someplace nice until I fell asleep again. That’s how I know she loves me.”
Ginny was silent.
“What was the nice place you imagined?” she asked finally.
Draco shook his head and laughed softly. “I imagined deer,” he said. “I imagined I was looking at a field full of deer. I don’t know why – I guess it seemed peaceful to me.” He shook his head again.
“My mum used to do the same for me, when I had bad dreams,” Ginny said. “I used to have this one about being chased by a dragon. It was horrible. But Mum would sit there, and I’d just know that everything was okay, that I was safe with her.”
“A scary dragon, huh?” Draco laughed, but he looked at her with an almost grateful expression on his face.
“It was scary!” Ginny replied, and she laughed too, glad that the mood between them had lightened, that the tension was lifted. They continued on without speaking, but now the silence between them seemed almost companionable.
The heat of the summer sun slowly filtered through the trees, and when the four travelers came across an inviting stream, they decided to rest for a while. Kevin, half joking and half serious, waded into the water and tried to catch a sunfish.
“We could cook it and eat it!” he said.
“No, no fires,” Draco said. “The smoke might be spotted.” Ginny sighed. A bit of fish had sounded nice.
“I’m so hungry,” Lizzie said, voicing Ginny’s feelings exactly.
“We’ve got these,” Draco replied, spreading open the robe he’d been carrying and revealing that he’d had the forethought to bring some of the blackberries with them. There wasn’t much there – enough for each of them to eat a handful – but, Ginny thought, it was better than starving.
“You know,” she said as she finished the meager lunch, “I used to love blackberries. I’m not sure I’ll ever eat them again though after this is all over.”
“My mum makes great blackberry pie,” Lizzie said. “I’d still eat that.”
The four of them reclined wearily in the shade of the trees along the stream’s bank. They weren’t tired enough to sleep, but they were too tired to continue walking.
“Hey Kevin, I thought of a story while we were walking. Do you want to hear it?” Lizzie asked.
“Lizzie’s going to be a writer some day,” Kevin said by way of explanation to Ginny and Draco. “She’s always coming up with neat stories.” Lizzie blushed at her brother’s compliment.
“That’s great, Lizzie,” smiled Ginny.
“I don’t know that they’re any good, but Kev is always nice enough to listen,” Lizzie replied.
“I think I need to soak my feet,” Ginny said, “I don’t think they’ve ever been so sore.” She stood up and made her way to the stream bank. “I can still hear you from here, though Lizzie, if you want to tell your story.” Pulling off her shoes and socks, and rolling up her jeans, she dipped her feet in the cool water. Lizzie’s voice trailed over from behind her.
“. . . upon a time, there was a beautiful witch, who was also a princess . . .”
Ginny leaned back on her elbows and was surprised when Draco sat down beside her, quickly removing his footwear and placing his feet in the stream, too. They sat side by side, shoulders almost touching, neither speaking.
“. . . and the hex was a terrible one, and her parents cried and cried . . .”
“Why did you kiss me?” Ginny asked abruptly in a low voice. She didn’t look at Draco, and when he didn’t respond right away, she thought maybe he hadn’t heard her.
“I don’t know,” he replied finally. “Why did you kiss back?”
“I don’t know.” Both were silent again.
“. . . and the hex finally took effect, and everyone had to leave the castle, and the poor princess witch was all alone . . .”
“I thought you had a girlfriend – aren’t you with Pugsy Parkinson?” Ginny saw a smile flit across Draco’s face.
“Pansy and I aren’t dating – not in the sense you mean,” he replied.
“Then what is it? You’re always together. She looks at you like she’s starving and you’re her favorite dessert.” Draco laughed out loud this time.
“It’s a matter of convenience – for me at any rate. Our parents expect us to be together. Even before we started Hogwarts, we were always thrown together. Every dinner party, every gala event – our mothers would force us together and coo over us. I suppose I was expected to marry her one day, and I know she would have been pleased to be the next Mrs. Malfoy – but I’ve never had feelings for her. She’s not supposed to have feelings for me, either. It’s a business arrangement.” He shrugged. “One benefit of my – failure – is that she wouldn’t come near me now with a ten foot pole.”
“. . . and the brave wizard prince felt drawn to the abandoned castle, and even though he knew that others had tried and perished before, he had to go on . . .”
“And what about you,” he continued, a note of hesitation in his voice. “Aren’t you dating anyone?”
Ginny sighed. “I was,” she said. “Harry and I broke up though. He was worried I might get hurt in the war because of him.”
“How very . . . noble of him,” Draco said with a faint sneer, and they both dropped back into silence.
“. . . but he didn’t see the dragon’s talons in time, and he was clawed down his chest . . .”
Draco abruptly turned to her. “I kissed you because when I thought I was going to die in that dungeon I opened my eyes and saw you, and you looked warm, like the fireplace in my bedroom or a sunset. I kissed you because when you look at me, it’s like you’re really looking at me, not at my money or my name. I kissed you because you’re nice to me, and you make me actually want to be nice to you. I kissed you because you’re beautiful. I kissed you –” He didn’t get to finish his sentence because Ginny leaned in suddenly and kissed him.
“. . .enough, and the hex was lifted, and she knelt by him and her tears fell on him . . .”
Draco’s arms snaked around her, pulling her against him so that he could kiss her more deeply.
“. . . and it turned out that he was NOT DEAD, because she had healed him with the magic of her tears . . .”
Ginny ran her fingers through his hair, over his cheeks, tasting the sweetness of him in her mouth, feeling his heat through her clothes.
“. . . knew that it was his love that had saved her from the hex, and hers that had saved him from the dragon’s wound . . .”
They pulled apart, his arms still around her waist, hers pressed against his chest where she could feel the rapid beat of his heart. Their eyes were locked together, and Ginny knew that whatever this was, between them, he felt it too, and she didn’t want to fight it, didn’t know if she could fight it.
“. . . family could return, and they were married and lived happily ever after, the end.”
Ginny broke away from Draco’s embrace and looked back at Lizzie and Kevin.
“That was great,” she said, trying to sound enthusiastic. She scrambled to her feet and returned to where the Pullmans were sitting, Draco following behind her.
“That was a nice story, Lizzie,” he said quietly. Lizzie turned a deep red at the unexpected compliment.
“Thank you,” she said. “It needs work, I think. All that love stuff seems too cheesy . . .”
Over the next two days, the four of them fell into an easy pattern of long intervals of walking followed by short rests, regardless of whether it was day or night. Nuts and berries were not hard to find in the fertile summer season, and this far south the forest was thickly crossed with streams and rivulets running toward the ocean and providing ample drinking water. Draco, Ginny and Kevin alternated guard duties.
Draco and Ginny fell into an easy pattern as well, and if either of them had grown up in a Muggle household, they might have seen the similarities between their journey and the countless Disney movies where a talking dog and cat must put aside their differences to find their way back home. Ginny grew used to Draco – his brooding silences, his sarcastic remarks, his sometimes barely repressed impatience with all of them – because underneath all of that, she was learning about a different Draco entirely, one that was thoughtful, and felt deeply, and seemed to see right into the center of her. She grew used to his touch as well – not used to it in a way that took away the punch she felt every time he kissed her, the sudden painful flutter in her chest, but used to it in a way that meant she could feel the absence of him when he wasn’t near her. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they would keep their relationship a secret from Lizzie and Kevin, and for that Ginny was grateful. She told herself that she didn’t want the Pullmans to feel awkward, but deep down, she didn’t want her family to find out, or Harry. None of them would ever be able to understand.
And so, when Lizzie and Kevin were asleep, Draco would hold her in his arms, and sometimes they would kiss until Ginny could barely breathe for wanting more of him, and sometimes they would simply whisper to each other about nothing, about everything. Ginny found that she liked talking to Draco as much as she liked kissing him.
On the afternoon of the third day, or perhaps the fourth – Ginny had lost track – the woods ended abruptly and they were standing at the side of a road. In the distance was a town, nestled in a little valley between rolling downs. Ginny took in the road, took in the town, and suddenly jumped in the air.
“Oh! Oh!” she cried, almost flapping her arms at her companions. “We’re saved! This is it!”
“What are you on about, woman?” Draco drawled, eyeing her like she’d just sprouted a second head.
“It’s a road!” Ginny said, not even caring that she sounded crazy. “It’s a road, and all we have to do is wait right here, and the Knight Bus will come for us – transportation for the stranded witch or wizard!”
Draco’s face maintained its skeptical expression, but behind him, both Kevin and Lizzie began making excited noises.
“She’s right!” and “I’ve heard of the Knight Bus!” exclaimed Lizzie and Kevin simultaneously.
“I don’t like it,” Draco said.
“What?” Ginny grinned playfully. “Public transportation too low class for you?”
Draco’s expression remained serious.
“I don’t like us being out in the open like this.”
“It shouldn’t take long – flash the wand and we just wait here for a few minutes and it should show up – that’s how it’s supposed to work.”
“We can try it, but all of you, stay alert.” Draco pulled out Wormtail’s wand and waved it at the road. Then they waited. At first the four of them remained standing, nervous excitement keeping them silent and breathless. After fifteen minutes had passed, Kevin sat down, and then Lizzie, while Ginny remained upright, her eyes glued to the road. Draco continued warily monitoring their surroundings.
Another fifteen minutes passed, and Kevin and Lizzie began to exchange downcast looks.
“I don’t think it’s coming, Gin,” Draco said quietly. Ginny didn’t reply. She refused to believe that the Knight Bus wouldn’t come for them. It had seemed like everything was about to be alright again – no more weary trekking through endless woods, no more sleeping on the ground, no more trying to survive on what they could scavenge. For a short time, she had seen the end to all of this – could almost feel her mother’s embrace when she arrived at the Burrow. Tears sprung into her eyes and she met Draco’s sympathetic gaze.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “We need to keep moving.” As she nodded silently, feeling the hard lump in her throat, her attention was suddenly arrested by the sound of an approaching vehicle. Cresting the hill and kicking up an amazing dust cloud was a very old, red Ford pickup truck. It screeched to a halt right in front of them.
All four of them stood speechlessly staring at the truck as a grizzled old man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a beanie, and a pair of extremely large sunglasses leaned out his window. Lifting the sunglasses off of his nose to reveal rather twinkly eyes, he spoke. There was something about him that was friendly and strangely familiar, Ginny thought.
“You kids need a ride?” The four of them looked at each other in mute amazement at being so addressed by a Muggle. Ginny was the first to speak.
“Yes . . . yes, we do need a ride. May we . . . drive with you in your automobile?” she felt a bit smug at being able to converse so fluently using the Muggle terms her father taught her. The other three just looked at her.
The Muggle laughed. “Well, where you headed?”
“Er . . . to Ottery St. Catchpole,” Ginny replied, naming the Muggle village closest to the Burrow.
“How about that!” the Muggle replied. “Headed in the same direction myself! You kids are more than welcome to come along. I can take one of you in the front, the rest can ride with Lou.” He indicated the bed of the pickup truck where, nestled in a pile of straw, a large white goat was eyeing them. “Louisa-love, you don’t mind a little company, do you?” he asked the goat, which gave no indication one way or another as to its preferences.
“Oh, wonderful!” Ginny replied. Draco caught her arm.
“Ginny,” he said under his breath, “do you really think that’s a good idea?” Ginny gave him a pleading look and he sighed.
“I’ll ride in front, sir,” he said to the Muggle and gave Ginny a look that said “I’ll hex him to oblivion if he tries anything – you keep safe in the back.” Ginny almost laughed at his tense caution. It was just a Muggle, after all, and a very old one at that.
“Good, then,” said the Muggle. “Glad to have you all on board. Name’s Abe – this here is Louisa.”
“It’s a pleasure, I’m sure,” Draco replied as he climbed into the front seat, the disdain in his voice making Ginny wince.
He’d better behave himself.
Lizzie, Kevin and Ginny climbed into the back with Louisa, who eyed them all steadily before returning to the bit of grass she was chewing. Lizzie smiled widely.
“I’ve never ridden in a Muggle car,” she said excitedly. Ginny smiled back.
“Hold on!” shouted Abe from the cabin, as he tore off down the road, kicking up a cloud of dust behind.
Ginny leaned back in the straw and allowed herself to relax as she felt the sun on her cheeks and the wind rushing through her hair. At this rate, they’d reach the Burrow in no time. She closed her eyes and listened to the snatches of conversation coming from the cabin of the truck. It sounded like Abe was talking Draco’s ear off, and Ginny almost felt pity for him, knowing his feelings for Muggles in general.
Maybe it will be good for him. How can you hate something you know nothing about anyway?
Ginny opened her eyes and was startled to find Louisa staring directly at her. She could have sworn the goat winked at her.
Impossible, she thought, shaking her head and closing her eyes again. The truck rattled its way down the road, and Ginny dreamed of home.
-----
A/N: Thank you to every one who's been reading along so far. An especially big thank you to those of you who've reviewed -- all your comments mean a lot to me!
Leave a Review