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Ginny Weasley stood watching a man cry. She had never seen him like this before. She had never seen him with his hair tangled, with his eyes red, or his hands shaking. But today, he had lost control. She wondered what had broken him, finally. Inside, she felt like crying with him.
Eight months ago, Arthur Weasley had been killed as he leapt in front of a spell meant for Bill Weasley. Bill had later been killed defending his pregnant wife, Fleur. Ginny hadn’t known who to cry for first, but in the end, it was her dad. She knew that with his wounds from a previous attack, Dad should not have been fighting.
He had told her with that quiet firmness of his that he would fight as long as he could stand. She had not been able to refuse, just watched him as he limped out the door. He had died because of the weakness of his only daughter.
Ginny shuddered, blinking away the imminent tears. How could she be so weak? There were people dying all around, people in need of her help, and here she was, watching Draco Malfoy cry and crying herself.
As she set her wand to work on an Auror’s bleeding arm, she could see Draco’s shaking hands. She nearly sewed the poor girl’s shirt collar to her robe when her hands started shaking as well. She went from case to case, blind to the suffering now. She took care when she could, but really, Healing Potions were low and she used her resources sparingly. The rapid pounding of her heart drowned the groans of the wounded as she briskly healed their wounds. It was better to cause them pain now than to let them die from their wounds. The Order needed every warrior to fight; victory was becoming a desperate dream amid the gore.
She would do what must be done. Her hands shook. She drank a calming potion, and her hands still trembled. She frowned. Signs of weakness would only tear her apart in this war. She refused to be broken. She refused to admit defeat.
Mechanically, she moved on from one tortured face to another. Yet all she saw was a tired face with pale gray eyes and tangled blond hair. When her shift finished, she walked over to look for the elusive Draco Malfoy. He was long gone. Slowly, she moved to hand her cases to the replacement Healer and made her way out the hospital doors into the snowy night.
Breathing in the frosty air, she smiled. Fresh and clean, no trace of death or sickness in the air tonight. The snow had cleansed away the stench of war. It seemed like a new beginning, a soft white blanket to cover her past.
Draco Malfoy walked into the Burrow, and the group of Order members sitting around the dinner table leapt up and pulled out their wands.
Draco held his hands up, but Ginny could see the wand hidden up his sleeve, and whispered to Harry, "He can still get at his wand if he has to. Be careful."
Draco said quietly, "I need somewhere to hide, and I need it fast. My father has found out that I have left Malfoy estates. I was late to a Death Eater gathering, and my father punished my mother for my tardiness. My mother will be safer without me around. However, because I protected her from him, my father will be suspicious of my intentions in leaving the Manor. Death Eaters will be coming after me shortly to check on my whereabouts. I do not wish for them to find me."
Harry said incredulously, "You're asking for our help?"
Draco winced. "I'll give you something in exchange, of course. I refuse to be indebted to you, of all people." He tossed a roll of parchment to Harry. "In exchange for shelter."
Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "This is a map..." his voice trailed off.
"The Malfoy estate, yes, Potter," Draco finished impatiently.
Harry looked at him sharply. "How do I know that this really is a map, and not a plan to fool us?"
Draco said sarcastically, "Well, considering that you all are the ones who know where I'm hiding, that wouldn't be very smart, now would it? You would kill me in an instant if I lied to you."
Arthur asked, "Why did you leave?"
Draco's eyes flashed. "That is none of your business." His eyes searched the room and found Ginny's, for some reason.
"We all have secrets, and no one should force us to tell them to the world. We all hate being vulnerable." Ginny nearly gasped before Draco broke eye contact and turned to Harry.
"Will you help me?" His voice sounded strained.
Harry looked at him for a few seconds, and then nodded. He tossed Draco a Portkey and said roughly, "It will take you to one of our hiding places. Good luck, Malfoy." He grabbed Draco's arm. "Don't play games with us, or you will die." Harry's voice was dangerous and unforgiving, cold as ice.
Draco nodded curtly, and disappeared just as Harry removed his grip.
Draco, since then, had spent his time globetrotting, avoiding the Death Eaters chasing him with skilled deflections. He sent them occasional tips about things that he remembered that would help them while fighting Voldemort. At first, Harry had verified all information with a trustworthy spy placed in Death Eater ranks, but everyone had grown to trust these tersely worded notes.
There had been only one mistake. Draco had forgotten to tell them about the hidden alcove in a Death Eater hideout, and Death Eaters hiding there had caused countless fatalities before they were identified and stopped.
It had been an honest mistake on Draco's part. That was proven when Ministry officials drugged him with Veritaserum and interrogated him. Draco, due to a skillful Memory charm, never knew of the incident.
After the Order informed him, Draco's only concern was assuring everyone that he hadn't meant to forget. The deaths of members were treated with careful regret, then discarded in the face of his own interests. Ginny had never been able to quite forgive him for that.
She looked up at the familiar structure of the Burrow and sighed. Home. As few as they were now, this would always be a refuge for the Weasley family.
When she walked into the Burrow, Draco Malfoy stood watching her from a chair next to the kitchen table. She froze and pulled out her wand.
“Draco, I told you never to come here.” She couldn't bear to think of him and be broken by his pain, his disregard for her pain.
He smirked. “I know. Go tell Saint Potter, why don't you?”
Her voice was dangerous. “Your presence could kill my family…what’s left of it, that is. Do you have a slight urge to die, perhaps?" she said sarcastically.
She used her family as a shield to protect herself from her weaknesses. But she would kill him if any more of them got hurt. She couldn't lose anyone else.
He said casually, "Death wouldn't be that bad."
Her jaw tightened. "How could you dare come here, Draco?" How could he come here? How could he treat the event of death so lightly when his own mother had just been killed? He would never make sense to her.
Ginny laughed bitterly. "It’s always about you. Have you ever considered anyone else, Draco? Did your life as a Malfoy spoil you?”
Draco suddenly lost the veneer of arrogance. “My mother is dead.”
His voice was raw in the light, and she suddenly could not face him. She felt naked in front of his burning eyes, his eyes that told her that nothing mattered anymore.
“Oscuro," she whispered, and the lights dimmed. The dark surrounded her, and inwardly, she embraced it like an old friend. Secrets were not exposed in the dark, expressions hidden. The dark was safer than the light.
Suddenly in the darkness, she thought of the scars running down his back in an endless web. In the dead of winter, Death Eaters laid a siege on the house he was hiding in. He turned off the lights, the heat and all signs of life, and waited them out. After they left, he came to Grimmauld Place. At that time, she had been the only one there, and he was soaking wet and nearly hypothermic.
He had taken off everything but his boxers and she had dried him off magically. She had dried his clothes systematically. During that flurry of action, she had somehow seen the scars on his back. Then everything had frozen as she stopped in shock.
Time took her back to the first time she realized Draco wasn't who she thought he was.
Ginny was gradually warming his shirt with her wand while his coat dripped water onto the rug. He turned his back to her, and held his hands to the fire.
When she turned to ask him if he wanted tea, she froze. She was facing his back. Spidery lines of old scars layered his back. Blankly, she wondered why the Malfoys hadn't decided to use magic to erase them.
Not thinking about what she was doing, she walked up behind him and traced one line with her fingertip, entranced by the horrific web.
He spun around and grabbed her wrist. "What do you think you're doing, Ginny?"
She wasn't intimidated. "How did you get those scars?"
Draco's eyes were hidden in the shadows. "Why do you care? Why should I tell you?"
Ginny shrugged. He had a point, so she walked away. He turned back to the fire.
As she moved from the shirt to the soaked trousers, his voice cut the silence.
"My father is a cruel man. All he wants is to be the best among the Death Eaters, the favorite of the Dark Lord. He will do anything to accomplish that, and the Dark Lord wanted me as a Death Eater. He saw I had more potential than my father and he wanted me. Father promised to give him my Death Eater oath as a celebration of his year of return."
Ginny had long since stopped drying Draco's clothes, and she froze, listening, afraid that if she moved, he would stop talking.
"I was never the ideal Death Eater, and my father taught me how to be one. He taught me to never show emotion, to never feel pain. He taught me how to be ice."
Suddenly she spun around, only to realize he was inches behind her, hand outstretched and breath ragged. "Alerts are raised at the Ministry of Magic whenever certain Healing spells are used by anyone but Healers, so that domestic abuse can't be hidden. My father could never heal my scars because he didn’t want the family name to be tainted if the magical world found out about the incidents at Malfoy Manor. I learned my lesson, but the scars remain. I will never be like Lucius Malfoy."
She stared into his eyes, her breath suddenly panicked, matching his rapid inhalations. Then, breaking the spell, she turned back to his clothes.
The silence enveloped once more, and Draco slowly made his way back to the fireplace, wondering why he had finally let someone into his head.
She had lost something that day – some security, some comfort – and she had never gotten it back. Two weeks later, Arthur Weasley had died in battle.
Ginny wondered how her life would have been if Arthur Weasley had not guided her, helped her - loved her. She thought of Draco's life with Lucius, and suddenly, she felt grief overtake her. He had lost so much, and he didn't even realize quite how much he lost. He had never had anything like a father to compare Lucius with. Now, he had lost the only mother he had ever had.
Ginny sat down across from him at the table, forgetting her mother sleeping upstairs. “I’m sorry, Draco.”
Draco choked back a scathing response, and murmured, “I am too.” He hated pity, but this girl wasn't giving that to him. She was giving him sadness, which he was grateful for. At least someone would remember Narcissa Malfoy as the mother of Draco Malfoy, rather than the wife of Lucius Malfoy.
Ginny looked up at him suspiciously. “What are you going to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“You approached the Order because you wanted to protect your mother. Will you return to follow your father now that she is gone?”
Draco said quietly, “I wouldn’t feel horrible if I had done this for my mother. But you're right, Ginny, I don’t consider anyone else besides me. I left my father and the Death Eaters for myself. I knew I wouldn’t survive if I didn't follow his every wish because he was favoured by the Dark Lord. I hated being dependent or subservient to anyone, so I left. I pretended that being alive would help my mother more than staying with her – to achieve my own means. Perhaps if I had been with her, she –” his voice broke.
Ginny asked, “What happened?”
Draco said, staring at the table, “Lucius killed her. She asked him where I had gone, and he was already furious at me, so he killed her. He took his anger out on her instead of me, just like always. This time, I wasn’t there to stop him.”
Ginny reached a hand out and then stopped. A touch might break him. She let silence fill the room, settle around them and enclose them in its comfort. Draco slipped his face into his hands, and his sleeve slipped back. Ginny’s stomach lurched as she saw the Dark Mark on his arm for the hundredth time.
She said, suddenly, “Draco, you would be dead if you hadn’t run when you did.”
Draco sighed. “I wouldn’t regret it if I had done something worthwhile after I ran. If I had helped the Order, I would have helped destroy my father, and it would have been worth it. If I had found a way to free my mother, it would have been worth it. I did nothing, Ginny, nothing. I idled away the time thinking I was finally safe, that she was finally safe without me, but I was wrong.”
Saving other people’s lives wouldn’t matter to him now, even though that was exactly what Draco had done when he betrayed the Dark Lord. The only life he cared about, at this point, was his mother’s and she was gone.
Ginny thought back to the night her father died. She had thought letting him fight and keeping an eye on him would be better than denying him his chance and having him escape to emerge in battle. She had been wrong, and Draco had been right. Draco knew that he was better use to his mother while he was away from her, but Ginny had kept her father close to her in battle, and he had died as a result.
Ginny said, “Draco, you were right. You wouldn’t be any help to your mother dead. You know your father would have killed you the day you said a word too much.” Her voice took on a teasing tone. “Knowing you, that would probably be altogether too easy for you.” She smiled briefly and he returned the gesture.
“Only with the Order, Ginny. With you all, I can afford to let my guard down. With Lucius Malfoy, you never show weakness of any kind. He will use it to bend you as he wills.” Ginny nodded, so he continued. “My father charmed my mother into loving him. After marriage, he used her love to hurt her. By the time I was born, she was a shadow of the woman she had once been. Any strength in her had been beaten out by her husband. Still, even with all her weakness, she loved me. That was more than my father ever felt for me; to him, I was a pawn in a chess game at best and at worst, a piece of property.”
Draco fingered a ruby ring on his left hand. “I was the victim of four assassination attempts by the time I was five. My mother bought me this charm herself to ward off the evil eye.” He gazed at it fondly. “She didn’t have a lot of money because Father wouldn’t give it to her, but she tried. She always said I had the most artistic hands that she had ever seen, that I wasn’t meant to be killed, or even be a killer. I killed her as surely as if I had gone into her room and snapped her neck.”
“Draco, your mother would have wanted you here, safe from the evil she had been bonded to," Ginny protested. "She could not end her marriage and her connection to a Dark family, but she would have wanted you to do so. She didn’t want a Malfoy lifestyle for you. You know that.”
Eyes flashing, Draco retorted, “My mother could not help who she fell in love with.”
“I know, Draco," said Ginny soothingly. “But she did know that Lucius was an evil person, and she should have been able to resist. Just like –”
Draco ignored her. “Narcissa Malfoy was not a brave woman. She did what she could, but above all, she survived – just like me. Don’t insult her memory.”
“I’m not, Draco! She was your mother, I understand that! But I also want you to understand that she would be happy with where you are right now. It’s Christmas Eve, and you are with the Order, Draco – people who care about you.”
Draco looked at her with tortured eyes. “People in this house distrust me, dislike me, and disrespect me. No one would care if her death broke me.”
Ginny said quietly, “You should care about it, yourself. I would care if you were to die.”
Draco laughed. “That proves how little time you’ve spent with me. How do you know you want me to stay when you're working more than sixteen hours a day?”
Ginny smiled. “You’re the kind of person who - I don’t know - makes me think, makes me laugh…makes me feel something besides the guilt.”
Draco looked at her in disbelief. She smiled and took his hand, thinking his grief was contained. His hand tightened around hers, and she looked at him questioningly.
He smiled and shook her hand. Eyes wide with shock, she slowly caught on and began shaking back. Their hands slipped apart, and Ginny looked at him with surprise.
Draco said quietly, “I had gone so long without trusting anyone that I forgot that there are people who will give something for nothing.”
Ginny shrugged. "You gave me your trust, so I gave you mine. I've never trusted you, Draco; I could never forgive you for brushing off the deaths that occurred that night at the alcove in exchange for your own interests. You spent most of your time talking to Harry, convincing him that you hadn't meant to leave that out, rather than consoling the grieving families."
"Don't lie to yourself, Ginny.” Draco smirked. “You may have never forgiven me, but I've always had your trust. You proved it that night when you traced the scars on my back without your wand ready to spell me into submission. You proved it when you merely stared at me as I stood holding the wrist of your wand hand, leaving you defenseless. You proved it when you couldn't look away from me. You proved it with the fear that shone in your eyes when you finally spun away."
Fury filled her. He knew, finally, about her weakness, if not exactly why she was weak. She had given her heart to him that night, given it away just like Narcissa gave it to Lucius. She had never, never wanted to, but it had happened. So she had fought to hide it from him, from the world, and pretend that she was strong as ever. But she lied, and he broke through her walls to leave her vulnerable.
Draco's voice cut at her ruthlessly. "You trusted me, and still do, because you've given me the power to break you."
She couldn't pull away as he drew her closer and closer. She merely shut her eyes, feeling his light breath on her cheeks.
"Open your eyes, Ginny." She did. She was lost then. She was surrounded by his eyes, a silver thunderstorm that appeared as he finally let his last grip on his emotions slip away. No matter how she tried, she couldn't pull away.
They separated and Ginny stared at the floor. “You should probably leave, Draco.”
Draco sighed, “Happy Christmas, Ginny.” He walked past her to the door, and Ginny grabbed his wrist. He turned to glance at her, his emotions hidden once again.
"You are a strong man, Draco...you will get through this."
Draco smiled. "If only you knew, Ginny. You're no weakling, either."
Her hands trembled within his clasp and she pulled away. Weaknesses would not get her anywhere in this war. She tried to stand and found her knees were slightly shaky from the long sit. Draco walked through the door and the wind slammed it shut behind him.
Suddenly, Ginny’s eyes widened as she remembered what he had said. If only she knew...did that mean that he wasn't as strong as she thought?
Stumbling to the door and throwing it open, she cried, “Draco, wait!”
Draco spun around to face her, a wand in his hand. Seeing her, he reddened and pocketed the wand. Slowly he made his way back to the front porch, where Ginny stood, teeth chattering.
“Yes, Ginny?” he asked patiently.
“Do – do you want to stay here tonight?” she stuttered hastily.
Draco’s eyes widened. “Here – with you?”
Ginny laughed nervously. “Well, it’s Christmas, and Mum’s asleep. There’s no one to keep me company with the eggnog, and I –” she hesitated again, “I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”
Draco laughed, “Don’t trust me alone, Ginny? I won’t go off on a rampage. I’d only put you and your family in danger. The Dark Lord is always on the hunt for deserters like me.”
Ginny placed a hand on his arm, pleading. “You would have one night to stay in a warm room, Draco. I would finally have someone to talk to - and so would you. Please?”
Draco sighed and silently took her hand. He finally got the feeling that mattered more to him than any romantic nonsense like love or friendship, the feelings Gryffindors seemed to hold so close to their hearts. Someone finally cared whether he lived or died.
They may never be friends, or lovers, or anything beyond two people bound by their weaknesses. But for them both, it was enough. The Christmas snow covered their past, leaving the future wide open for their paths to traverse.
She led him back through the door, into her world. Their hands, clasped together, shook no longer. They were strengthened by each other's weaknesses.
Eight months ago, Arthur Weasley had been killed as he leapt in front of a spell meant for Bill Weasley. Bill had later been killed defending his pregnant wife, Fleur. Ginny hadn’t known who to cry for first, but in the end, it was her dad. She knew that with his wounds from a previous attack, Dad should not have been fighting.
He had told her with that quiet firmness of his that he would fight as long as he could stand. She had not been able to refuse, just watched him as he limped out the door. He had died because of the weakness of his only daughter.
Ginny shuddered, blinking away the imminent tears. How could she be so weak? There were people dying all around, people in need of her help, and here she was, watching Draco Malfoy cry and crying herself.
As she set her wand to work on an Auror’s bleeding arm, she could see Draco’s shaking hands. She nearly sewed the poor girl’s shirt collar to her robe when her hands started shaking as well. She went from case to case, blind to the suffering now. She took care when she could, but really, Healing Potions were low and she used her resources sparingly. The rapid pounding of her heart drowned the groans of the wounded as she briskly healed their wounds. It was better to cause them pain now than to let them die from their wounds. The Order needed every warrior to fight; victory was becoming a desperate dream amid the gore.
She would do what must be done. Her hands shook. She drank a calming potion, and her hands still trembled. She frowned. Signs of weakness would only tear her apart in this war. She refused to be broken. She refused to admit defeat.
Mechanically, she moved on from one tortured face to another. Yet all she saw was a tired face with pale gray eyes and tangled blond hair. When her shift finished, she walked over to look for the elusive Draco Malfoy. He was long gone. Slowly, she moved to hand her cases to the replacement Healer and made her way out the hospital doors into the snowy night.
Breathing in the frosty air, she smiled. Fresh and clean, no trace of death or sickness in the air tonight. The snow had cleansed away the stench of war. It seemed like a new beginning, a soft white blanket to cover her past.
Draco Malfoy walked into the Burrow, and the group of Order members sitting around the dinner table leapt up and pulled out their wands.
Draco held his hands up, but Ginny could see the wand hidden up his sleeve, and whispered to Harry, "He can still get at his wand if he has to. Be careful."
Draco said quietly, "I need somewhere to hide, and I need it fast. My father has found out that I have left Malfoy estates. I was late to a Death Eater gathering, and my father punished my mother for my tardiness. My mother will be safer without me around. However, because I protected her from him, my father will be suspicious of my intentions in leaving the Manor. Death Eaters will be coming after me shortly to check on my whereabouts. I do not wish for them to find me."
Harry said incredulously, "You're asking for our help?"
Draco winced. "I'll give you something in exchange, of course. I refuse to be indebted to you, of all people." He tossed a roll of parchment to Harry. "In exchange for shelter."
Harry's eyes widened in disbelief. "This is a map..." his voice trailed off.
"The Malfoy estate, yes, Potter," Draco finished impatiently.
Harry looked at him sharply. "How do I know that this really is a map, and not a plan to fool us?"
Draco said sarcastically, "Well, considering that you all are the ones who know where I'm hiding, that wouldn't be very smart, now would it? You would kill me in an instant if I lied to you."
Arthur asked, "Why did you leave?"
Draco's eyes flashed. "That is none of your business." His eyes searched the room and found Ginny's, for some reason.
"We all have secrets, and no one should force us to tell them to the world. We all hate being vulnerable." Ginny nearly gasped before Draco broke eye contact and turned to Harry.
"Will you help me?" His voice sounded strained.
Harry looked at him for a few seconds, and then nodded. He tossed Draco a Portkey and said roughly, "It will take you to one of our hiding places. Good luck, Malfoy." He grabbed Draco's arm. "Don't play games with us, or you will die." Harry's voice was dangerous and unforgiving, cold as ice.
Draco nodded curtly, and disappeared just as Harry removed his grip.
Draco, since then, had spent his time globetrotting, avoiding the Death Eaters chasing him with skilled deflections. He sent them occasional tips about things that he remembered that would help them while fighting Voldemort. At first, Harry had verified all information with a trustworthy spy placed in Death Eater ranks, but everyone had grown to trust these tersely worded notes.
There had been only one mistake. Draco had forgotten to tell them about the hidden alcove in a Death Eater hideout, and Death Eaters hiding there had caused countless fatalities before they were identified and stopped.
It had been an honest mistake on Draco's part. That was proven when Ministry officials drugged him with Veritaserum and interrogated him. Draco, due to a skillful Memory charm, never knew of the incident.
After the Order informed him, Draco's only concern was assuring everyone that he hadn't meant to forget. The deaths of members were treated with careful regret, then discarded in the face of his own interests. Ginny had never been able to quite forgive him for that.
She looked up at the familiar structure of the Burrow and sighed. Home. As few as they were now, this would always be a refuge for the Weasley family.
When she walked into the Burrow, Draco Malfoy stood watching her from a chair next to the kitchen table. She froze and pulled out her wand.
“Draco, I told you never to come here.” She couldn't bear to think of him and be broken by his pain, his disregard for her pain.
He smirked. “I know. Go tell Saint Potter, why don't you?”
Her voice was dangerous. “Your presence could kill my family…what’s left of it, that is. Do you have a slight urge to die, perhaps?" she said sarcastically.
She used her family as a shield to protect herself from her weaknesses. But she would kill him if any more of them got hurt. She couldn't lose anyone else.
He said casually, "Death wouldn't be that bad."
Her jaw tightened. "How could you dare come here, Draco?" How could he come here? How could he treat the event of death so lightly when his own mother had just been killed? He would never make sense to her.
Ginny laughed bitterly. "It’s always about you. Have you ever considered anyone else, Draco? Did your life as a Malfoy spoil you?”
Draco suddenly lost the veneer of arrogance. “My mother is dead.”
His voice was raw in the light, and she suddenly could not face him. She felt naked in front of his burning eyes, his eyes that told her that nothing mattered anymore.
“Oscuro," she whispered, and the lights dimmed. The dark surrounded her, and inwardly, she embraced it like an old friend. Secrets were not exposed in the dark, expressions hidden. The dark was safer than the light.
Suddenly in the darkness, she thought of the scars running down his back in an endless web. In the dead of winter, Death Eaters laid a siege on the house he was hiding in. He turned off the lights, the heat and all signs of life, and waited them out. After they left, he came to Grimmauld Place. At that time, she had been the only one there, and he was soaking wet and nearly hypothermic.
He had taken off everything but his boxers and she had dried him off magically. She had dried his clothes systematically. During that flurry of action, she had somehow seen the scars on his back. Then everything had frozen as she stopped in shock.
Time took her back to the first time she realized Draco wasn't who she thought he was.
Ginny was gradually warming his shirt with her wand while his coat dripped water onto the rug. He turned his back to her, and held his hands to the fire.
When she turned to ask him if he wanted tea, she froze. She was facing his back. Spidery lines of old scars layered his back. Blankly, she wondered why the Malfoys hadn't decided to use magic to erase them.
Not thinking about what she was doing, she walked up behind him and traced one line with her fingertip, entranced by the horrific web.
He spun around and grabbed her wrist. "What do you think you're doing, Ginny?"
She wasn't intimidated. "How did you get those scars?"
Draco's eyes were hidden in the shadows. "Why do you care? Why should I tell you?"
Ginny shrugged. He had a point, so she walked away. He turned back to the fire.
As she moved from the shirt to the soaked trousers, his voice cut the silence.
"My father is a cruel man. All he wants is to be the best among the Death Eaters, the favorite of the Dark Lord. He will do anything to accomplish that, and the Dark Lord wanted me as a Death Eater. He saw I had more potential than my father and he wanted me. Father promised to give him my Death Eater oath as a celebration of his year of return."
Ginny had long since stopped drying Draco's clothes, and she froze, listening, afraid that if she moved, he would stop talking.
"I was never the ideal Death Eater, and my father taught me how to be one. He taught me to never show emotion, to never feel pain. He taught me how to be ice."
Suddenly she spun around, only to realize he was inches behind her, hand outstretched and breath ragged. "Alerts are raised at the Ministry of Magic whenever certain Healing spells are used by anyone but Healers, so that domestic abuse can't be hidden. My father could never heal my scars because he didn’t want the family name to be tainted if the magical world found out about the incidents at Malfoy Manor. I learned my lesson, but the scars remain. I will never be like Lucius Malfoy."
She stared into his eyes, her breath suddenly panicked, matching his rapid inhalations. Then, breaking the spell, she turned back to his clothes.
The silence enveloped once more, and Draco slowly made his way back to the fireplace, wondering why he had finally let someone into his head.
She had lost something that day – some security, some comfort – and she had never gotten it back. Two weeks later, Arthur Weasley had died in battle.
Ginny wondered how her life would have been if Arthur Weasley had not guided her, helped her - loved her. She thought of Draco's life with Lucius, and suddenly, she felt grief overtake her. He had lost so much, and he didn't even realize quite how much he lost. He had never had anything like a father to compare Lucius with. Now, he had lost the only mother he had ever had.
Ginny sat down across from him at the table, forgetting her mother sleeping upstairs. “I’m sorry, Draco.”
Draco choked back a scathing response, and murmured, “I am too.” He hated pity, but this girl wasn't giving that to him. She was giving him sadness, which he was grateful for. At least someone would remember Narcissa Malfoy as the mother of Draco Malfoy, rather than the wife of Lucius Malfoy.
Ginny looked up at him suspiciously. “What are you going to do now?”
“What do you mean?”
“You approached the Order because you wanted to protect your mother. Will you return to follow your father now that she is gone?”
Draco said quietly, “I wouldn’t feel horrible if I had done this for my mother. But you're right, Ginny, I don’t consider anyone else besides me. I left my father and the Death Eaters for myself. I knew I wouldn’t survive if I didn't follow his every wish because he was favoured by the Dark Lord. I hated being dependent or subservient to anyone, so I left. I pretended that being alive would help my mother more than staying with her – to achieve my own means. Perhaps if I had been with her, she –” his voice broke.
Ginny asked, “What happened?”
Draco said, staring at the table, “Lucius killed her. She asked him where I had gone, and he was already furious at me, so he killed her. He took his anger out on her instead of me, just like always. This time, I wasn’t there to stop him.”
Ginny reached a hand out and then stopped. A touch might break him. She let silence fill the room, settle around them and enclose them in its comfort. Draco slipped his face into his hands, and his sleeve slipped back. Ginny’s stomach lurched as she saw the Dark Mark on his arm for the hundredth time.
She said, suddenly, “Draco, you would be dead if you hadn’t run when you did.”
Draco sighed. “I wouldn’t regret it if I had done something worthwhile after I ran. If I had helped the Order, I would have helped destroy my father, and it would have been worth it. If I had found a way to free my mother, it would have been worth it. I did nothing, Ginny, nothing. I idled away the time thinking I was finally safe, that she was finally safe without me, but I was wrong.”
Saving other people’s lives wouldn’t matter to him now, even though that was exactly what Draco had done when he betrayed the Dark Lord. The only life he cared about, at this point, was his mother’s and she was gone.
Ginny thought back to the night her father died. She had thought letting him fight and keeping an eye on him would be better than denying him his chance and having him escape to emerge in battle. She had been wrong, and Draco had been right. Draco knew that he was better use to his mother while he was away from her, but Ginny had kept her father close to her in battle, and he had died as a result.
Ginny said, “Draco, you were right. You wouldn’t be any help to your mother dead. You know your father would have killed you the day you said a word too much.” Her voice took on a teasing tone. “Knowing you, that would probably be altogether too easy for you.” She smiled briefly and he returned the gesture.
“Only with the Order, Ginny. With you all, I can afford to let my guard down. With Lucius Malfoy, you never show weakness of any kind. He will use it to bend you as he wills.” Ginny nodded, so he continued. “My father charmed my mother into loving him. After marriage, he used her love to hurt her. By the time I was born, she was a shadow of the woman she had once been. Any strength in her had been beaten out by her husband. Still, even with all her weakness, she loved me. That was more than my father ever felt for me; to him, I was a pawn in a chess game at best and at worst, a piece of property.”
Draco fingered a ruby ring on his left hand. “I was the victim of four assassination attempts by the time I was five. My mother bought me this charm herself to ward off the evil eye.” He gazed at it fondly. “She didn’t have a lot of money because Father wouldn’t give it to her, but she tried. She always said I had the most artistic hands that she had ever seen, that I wasn’t meant to be killed, or even be a killer. I killed her as surely as if I had gone into her room and snapped her neck.”
“Draco, your mother would have wanted you here, safe from the evil she had been bonded to," Ginny protested. "She could not end her marriage and her connection to a Dark family, but she would have wanted you to do so. She didn’t want a Malfoy lifestyle for you. You know that.”
Eyes flashing, Draco retorted, “My mother could not help who she fell in love with.”
“I know, Draco," said Ginny soothingly. “But she did know that Lucius was an evil person, and she should have been able to resist. Just like –”
Draco ignored her. “Narcissa Malfoy was not a brave woman. She did what she could, but above all, she survived – just like me. Don’t insult her memory.”
“I’m not, Draco! She was your mother, I understand that! But I also want you to understand that she would be happy with where you are right now. It’s Christmas Eve, and you are with the Order, Draco – people who care about you.”
Draco looked at her with tortured eyes. “People in this house distrust me, dislike me, and disrespect me. No one would care if her death broke me.”
Ginny said quietly, “You should care about it, yourself. I would care if you were to die.”
Draco laughed. “That proves how little time you’ve spent with me. How do you know you want me to stay when you're working more than sixteen hours a day?”
Ginny smiled. “You’re the kind of person who - I don’t know - makes me think, makes me laugh…makes me feel something besides the guilt.”
Draco looked at her in disbelief. She smiled and took his hand, thinking his grief was contained. His hand tightened around hers, and she looked at him questioningly.
He smiled and shook her hand. Eyes wide with shock, she slowly caught on and began shaking back. Their hands slipped apart, and Ginny looked at him with surprise.
Draco said quietly, “I had gone so long without trusting anyone that I forgot that there are people who will give something for nothing.”
Ginny shrugged. "You gave me your trust, so I gave you mine. I've never trusted you, Draco; I could never forgive you for brushing off the deaths that occurred that night at the alcove in exchange for your own interests. You spent most of your time talking to Harry, convincing him that you hadn't meant to leave that out, rather than consoling the grieving families."
"Don't lie to yourself, Ginny.” Draco smirked. “You may have never forgiven me, but I've always had your trust. You proved it that night when you traced the scars on my back without your wand ready to spell me into submission. You proved it when you merely stared at me as I stood holding the wrist of your wand hand, leaving you defenseless. You proved it when you couldn't look away from me. You proved it with the fear that shone in your eyes when you finally spun away."
Fury filled her. He knew, finally, about her weakness, if not exactly why she was weak. She had given her heart to him that night, given it away just like Narcissa gave it to Lucius. She had never, never wanted to, but it had happened. So she had fought to hide it from him, from the world, and pretend that she was strong as ever. But she lied, and he broke through her walls to leave her vulnerable.
Draco's voice cut at her ruthlessly. "You trusted me, and still do, because you've given me the power to break you."
She couldn't pull away as he drew her closer and closer. She merely shut her eyes, feeling his light breath on her cheeks.
"Open your eyes, Ginny." She did. She was lost then. She was surrounded by his eyes, a silver thunderstorm that appeared as he finally let his last grip on his emotions slip away. No matter how she tried, she couldn't pull away.
They separated and Ginny stared at the floor. “You should probably leave, Draco.”
Draco sighed, “Happy Christmas, Ginny.” He walked past her to the door, and Ginny grabbed his wrist. He turned to glance at her, his emotions hidden once again.
"You are a strong man, Draco...you will get through this."
Draco smiled. "If only you knew, Ginny. You're no weakling, either."
Her hands trembled within his clasp and she pulled away. Weaknesses would not get her anywhere in this war. She tried to stand and found her knees were slightly shaky from the long sit. Draco walked through the door and the wind slammed it shut behind him.
Suddenly, Ginny’s eyes widened as she remembered what he had said. If only she knew...did that mean that he wasn't as strong as she thought?
Stumbling to the door and throwing it open, she cried, “Draco, wait!”
Draco spun around to face her, a wand in his hand. Seeing her, he reddened and pocketed the wand. Slowly he made his way back to the front porch, where Ginny stood, teeth chattering.
“Yes, Ginny?” he asked patiently.
“Do – do you want to stay here tonight?” she stuttered hastily.
Draco’s eyes widened. “Here – with you?”
Ginny laughed nervously. “Well, it’s Christmas, and Mum’s asleep. There’s no one to keep me company with the eggnog, and I –” she hesitated again, “I don’t think you should be alone tonight.”
Draco laughed, “Don’t trust me alone, Ginny? I won’t go off on a rampage. I’d only put you and your family in danger. The Dark Lord is always on the hunt for deserters like me.”
Ginny placed a hand on his arm, pleading. “You would have one night to stay in a warm room, Draco. I would finally have someone to talk to - and so would you. Please?”
Draco sighed and silently took her hand. He finally got the feeling that mattered more to him than any romantic nonsense like love or friendship, the feelings Gryffindors seemed to hold so close to their hearts. Someone finally cared whether he lived or died.
They may never be friends, or lovers, or anything beyond two people bound by their weaknesses. But for them both, it was enough. The Christmas snow covered their past, leaving the future wide open for their paths to traverse.
She led him back through the door, into her world. Their hands, clasped together, shook no longer. They were strengthened by each other's weaknesses.
The End.
kumydabookworm is the author of 5 other stories.
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