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Muggle Spell by Pipperstorms
Story Notes:
This story was written for the D/G Exchange. It was nominated for both "best prose" and "best interpretation of the prompt" Thanks to everyone who read, nominated or voted. (And of course to Jandy and seegrim!)
Muggle Spell by Pipperstorms
Author's Notes:
AN: Thanks to caramelsilver, for the great prompt, and for participating in the fic exchange this year! Also, a huge thanks to seegrim for her amazing help and beta-ing skills.

Disclaimer: Now really, if I owned Harry Potter, you think it would have ended the way it did? Also, the line "Hell is empty and all the devils are here." Is from the Tempest, by Will Shakespeare, which I wouldn’t have know had I not just finished reading it for class.
Muggle Spell

“I can’t wait to see the look on your poor brothers’ faces when they hear you ran away with me.”

I rolled my eyes in the dark. I knew he couldn’t see my face well enough, but I could feel his mouth turn into a smirk against my neck.

“They’ll be happy that I’m happy, you fool.”

“And are you?”

There it was again, that little bit of doubt that seemed to find its way into his normally strong and impassive voice. It was the War that had done this to him. It had made him stronger, but it had also forced him to doubt himself. Draco had lost everything so far, and to be honest, it was my fault.

If he hadn’t fallen in love with me, he never would have turned on the Death Eaters, never would have become a spy, and there would have been nothing for the Dark Lo – for Voldemort to punish him for. As it was, his punishment was severe.

His parents were the price he paid for fighting for the light. While I had never loved them, he had. I found out after their deaths that the Malfoys had actually been a loving family; they had just kept that love between the three of them. I had gained a new found respect for his mother though, when the reports of her death came in. Narcissa Malfoy, delicate and demure, had reminded the Death Eaters what she was capable of when she had killed three of them before they had finally taken her down. As for his father, well, let’s just say only five of the fifteen that were sent to kill them made it to see Narcissa.

“Of course, Draco, of course you make me happy.”

His smile once again traced the lines of my neck. I pressed a kiss to the crown of his head, my hands warming themselves inside his dragon leather trench coat. Wandering, my fingers slid towards waistband of his trousers when they hit something colder then the snow falling around us.

“What’s this?” I asked tentatively. Just the feel of the thing made my skin crawl.

He pulled back from me, pulling his wand from the holster on his arm as he went. With a smooth wave, light flooded the tiny alley we were hiding in.

“It’s a Muggle device,” he said, slowly pulling it from his waist band. “It’s called a gun.”

I had never seen anything like it before, cold and angry all by itself. Even Draco seemed to be a little cautious of it, as if it might bite him at any moment.

“What does it do?” I asked, reaching my hand towards it.

“It’s something like a wand,” he shrugged. “But it only knows one spell. The Death Eaters have them now.”

I didn’t understand why the Death Eaters would be carrying around some Muggle contraption, especially when it only knew one spell, but I let Draco show me how to use it anyway. When he was done, he carefully removed his own belt, which I now saw had a special place for the ‘gun,’ and let him put it into place around my own hips. He took the gun from my hands and slipped it into the belt.

Shaking my head, I pulled him back towards me, forcing his arms around me.

“I don’t like it,” I whispered. And then it was his turn to comfort me.

“Shhhh,” he soothed, not really knowing what to do with my tears. “I don’t want you to have to use it,” he said. “I just want you to know how, so that the Death Eaters can’t surprise you.”

I understood his logic, but it didn’t make the cold black Muggle device any more inviting. As if I hadn’t understood the dangers of this war before, I felt the weight of them falling down around me. I wanted to scream, to throw the damn gun as far away from me as I could, and I wanted really run away with Draco, not just to get married, but to get as far away from this was as possible.

The look on Draco’s face suddenly turned cold, and he doused the light from his wand before I could ask what was wrong.

“We have to go,” he whispered against my ear. I could feel the warmth of the calling coin in his front pocket as I wrapped my arms tighter still around him. Before I had the chance to close my eyes, the coin had acted as a portkey, bringing us to where we were needed. The familiar red mess of my brother Ron’s hair was the first thing to greet us. We were inside one of the planning tents for the Order.

“Where have you two been?” he asked, his eyes glassed over with not enough sleep and too much worry.

“Well…” Draco’s voice trailed off. I could tell he was torn between taking the micky out of my brother, and taking the look on Ron’s face seriously. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

“Ron, we eloped,” I said with a rush. “I am now Ginevra Molly Malfoy, and I always well be. Now, what’s the problem?”

His eye bulged for a quick second before his hand went up to cover his face.

“Mum is going to kill you for eloping, but we’ll talk about that later. Right now, we have a war to fight.”

Draco was back to strict business, his eyes narrowed in anticipation.

“How long before we’re needed on the front?” he asked. I already knew he didn’t mean me, when he said “we,” but I also knew by the look in Ron’s eyes that we were going to need every available Order member.

“Soon, I can give you half an hour to…to get ready.”

What he wasn’t saying, we already knew. Anytime someone was given a time limit, there was a very good chance they weren’t coming back from the battle. Draco and I were being given half an hour to say good-bye to one another, potentially for the last time, although we’d already done that twice during the war by now.

Draco nodded, letting go of my hand, and out the front flap of the tent. He was giving me a chance to say good-bye as well; I knew he’d be waiting for me outside.

Ron wrapped his arms around my waist, lifting me up in a giant bear hug.

“You’re going to be careful out there, do you hear me?” he asked, still holding me in the air. I nodded into his neck, not trusting myself with words. We’d done this before, said good-bye like this, but the last time I’d said good-bye to a brother, Charlie hadn’t come back. Our family was still grieving, but there wasn’t proper time, we had to learn to move on fast.

“You too,” I finally squeaked out. Ron chuckled at me, finally setting me down on my feet.

“Of course.” He smiled. “I want to be there when you tell mum you got married without inviting her. That is going to be a show.”

I swatted at him playfully, trying to pretend that everything was going to be okay.

“So you’re not going to freak out at me for marrying a ferret?”

He laughed louder, and I was glad; I wanted to always be able to remember that laugh.

“Gin, if you want to have pink haired babies, I suppose that’s up to you then, isn’t it?” He laughed again at his own witty joke, as if it was something I hadn’t heard before. Placing a kiss on my cheek, he pushed me towards the door. “The poor bloke is waiting for you,” he said. “I’m willing to bet he wants to spend a little time with his bride.”

And Ron was right, Draco was waiting just outside the tent flap, his hands in the pockets of his coat, his eyes closed, but facing the sky.

“Hey, stranger,” I whispered, with a little tug of his sleeve.

“Hey, yourself.” His face softened with a smile as he took my hand and started leading me towards another tent, the same one that I had been sneaking into at night for over a year.

Once we were inside I threw my arms around him, already afraid to let go.

“You have to come back to me,” I said, my face buried in his neck. The vibrations of his laughter startled me, as he pulled me from him, and eased our way to the floor.

“Of course I’ll come back, you silly twit. What would you do without me?” I knew what he was trying to do, but right then I didn’t want the mood lightened. I wanted him to be serious. “I’ll just be taking out a few Death Eaters, and then I’ll be back; you won’t even have time to miss me.”

With a huff, I pulled free of his embrace to stand before him with my hands on my hips.

“Don’t you get it?” I asked. I didn’t mean to sound angry, but my voice was already shaking.

“Get what, exactly?” he responded, his left eyebrow cocking in confusion. I could tell he wanted nothing more than to get back to the light-heartedness he was trying to create.

“You have completely messed with my mind!”

“Your mind was already-”

“Shut up, and listen to me!” I yelled. Great, our first fight as a married couple, and I was already being irrational, but I couldn’t stop myself, not until he understood.

Standing gracefully, he stood directly across from me, his face impassive. “I’m yours then,” he said with a broad hand gesture.

It was now or never, and with a deep breath I began the rant I knew I wouldn’t have been able to avoid.

“I can’t sleep without you anymore. I try, trust me I do, but there’s just something about you being there, right there, that I need. Somewhere in my mind, I need to know that if I reach out my hand, I’m going to feel your skin.”

“It isn’t always your hand, sometimes it’s your foot,” he said with a smirk.

I couldn’t take it; I reached out with both hands to push him. “Can you give it a rest? I’m trying to be serious!”

He grabbed my hands, once again holding me close to his chest.

“I am being serious; your feet are often very cold.”

“I give up!” I shrieked, pulling free of him. “You’re just so…” I could feel the tears welling up in my eyes. Why didn’t he understand just how important he was to me?

“Oh come on now, Gin, don’t be like that.” He took hold my hand as I tried to make for the tent flap. It was stupid and childish for me to be acting this way when it could be the last time I would ever see him, but I couldn’t make it stop.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I pouted.

“Don’t walk away.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” I asked my voice cracking. “Here I am trying to make you understand and all you can do is –”

Draco sighed dramatically, lazily dragging his feet as he came to collect me again.

“Did it ever occur to you that I might already understand?”


“Of course I understand, Ginevra,” he sighed, leaning to let his chin rest upon my head. “I asked you to marry me, didn’t I? I understand perfectly well. I don’t sleep when you’re not here. I lay there, listening to that stupid clock tick on and on and on, waiting for morning because I know then, so long as I haven’t royally pissed you off, I’m going to see you.”

“Why…why didn’t you ever say anything?” I asked, my voice small and pathetic.

Draco pulled me back to look me in the eyes, his hand reaching for my left, holding it out in front of me so that I could see the small diamond glittering back at me.

“I thought I had already made myself perfectly clear.”

“No, you did,” I sighed, pressing my cheek into his chest.

“Then what?” he asked. He should have been angry at me, I wanted him to be, almost. But instead his voice was patient, calming. “You thought that because I am a Malfoy, that I was truly incapable of feeling?

“No! I just… I’m so….”

He sighed again, capturing my lips with his. Pressing his hand to my face, he locked eyes with me.

“There is nothing wrong with you,” he said as if it were fact. “If either one of us should feel unworthy, it’s me.”

“Don’t be an idiot.” I smiled.

He returned it, before pressing his lips to mine once more. I was the one to break the kiss this time; I knew we didn’t have much time left. My stupid insecurities had lost me time.

“Promise you’ll come back to me?” I was asking him to do the impossible. I knew he couldn’t promise something like that, just as I could not, or maybe would not promise to stay behind. He was kinder than I though, he never asked me to.

“Of course I will,” he lied. He face didn’t betray him; he spoke to me with his own self assured smirk, softened slightly for my benefit. He slowly raised his index finger to tap it lightly against my nose. “Who wouldn’t want to come back to be sassed by you?”

“I was about to show him just what I could do with sass, when a rough slap on the tent flap alerted us to someone’s presence.

“Mal- Draco?” Ron called, sticking his head into the tent, red hair flying and eyes glued shut. “Kiss ‘er quick, it’s time to go.”

Draco sighed, leaning in to kiss me, and then smirking as he dipped me so low my ponytail brushed the ground, before righting me again.

Promise,” he whispered brushing one last kiss to my temple.

He left through the flap, leaving me and my brother, who's eyes were now open.

“Gin?” Ron asked, stepping towards me. “I’ll do what I can to keep him off the front.” I loved my brother more in that instant as he grew up before my eyes. He was no longer the boy at Hogwarts who didn’t know how to let go of a grudge; he was a man, in charge of a war effort.

“Thank you.” I placed a single kiss on his freckled cheek.

“I don’t want you to come,” he said firmly, but I could see the sadness already in his eyes. They needed everyone they could get their hands on out there today, and I would never let myself be the exception.

“I know. I’ll give you and Draco a little bit of a head start.”

“Right” Ron said with a nod. “Just…just keep yourself safe, Ginny.”

Then through the tent flap he went, and I sent a silent prayer to whatever gods were listening that this wouldn’t be the last time I saw my brother alive.

Fifteen minutes was all that I could wait before grabbing the glowing coin in my pocket. Long ago Hermione had figured out how to turn them all into transporting portkeys.

The moment my eyes adjusted to the unnatural darkness of the battlefield, I was certain of one thing: hell was empty, and all devils were here.

I could see people withering on the muddy ground, their hands clutched at their sides, or arms or legs. The sounds they made alone were enough to make me sick. Others were still running around, their wands at the ready. And then I saw the Death Eaters. All of them had one of the Muggle devices in their hands, constantly casting the only spell the “gun” knew.

My hand flew to my hip, brushing the cold metal. The thing suddenly felt too heavy, weighing my left leg down, and too hot, burning my skin through my clothes. I tried my best to ignore it as I pulled my wand out and ran into the fray.

I watched as witches and wizards fell to their knees, grabbing at where they had been hit. I couldn’t believe that the Muggles had been able to invent so effective a device without magic. It made me fear them a little. I was weaving my way through the trees at the edge of the clearing when a hand shot out and grabbed my foot, dragging me to the ground.

“Stay down,” a gruff voice whispered. “They won’t come after you if you’re already on the ground.”

I looked up to see the hem of a coat I knew well. Draco was with me, his back pressed into the trunk of a pine tree. His face was drawn tight, and his skin was paler than it had been only thirty minutes before.

“The guns,” he hissed. “We don’t know how to cure them.” His eyes drifted shut, before fluttering back open to find my face. “You haven’t been hit have you?”

I shook my head, raising myself to my knees to move closer to him. His left hand was inside his trench coat, but he couldn’t cover the stain that leaked out onto the white of his dress shirt beneath it.

“You’re bleeding?” I couldn’t help the panic in my voice as I went to peel his hand from his chest. There was a lot of blood.

Smirking at me, he pulled his hand back to cover the wound.

“Of course I’m bleeding, Gin,” he laughed hoarsely. “When do I not end up with some kind of scrape in one of these?”

But the problem was, this didn’t look like just a scrape. I watched as his eyes fought to stay open.

“You got hit with one of the Muggle guns?”

“Shot,” he corrected, his eyes still closed. “Apparently, it’s called being shot.”

I could feel my lungs contracting and the color draining my face. Why in the world was he just sitting there?

“Come on,” I whispered, trying to pull him up. “Let’s go, we’ll find the med tent.”

His laugh was weaker now, as he moved his free hand to stroke the side of my face.

“I know you were listening,” he said. “We can’t cure these, Gin. We don’t know how.”

I didn’t understand why he was giving up, why he was so willing to leave me, but I wasn’t ready to give up on him.

“Well, then fight it.” I demanded. “You are not allowed to die. You do not have my permission.”

He didn’t answer me. His breathing was getting shallower by the second so I did the only thing left. I cried.

I cried because I knew he was dying, and because he’d promised to come back, and I cried for the life that I had imagined and fought for.

I cried until there were no tears left in my body, and no breath left in his. I went to stand, brushing my hands down the sides of my body as I went, and then I remembered the gun.

Slowly, I removed it from my belt, turning it over in my hands, feeling its weight, sliding my hands around its smooth metal body. It was seductive, the power I could feel radiating from its cold frame. With a sick joy, I pulled at the top, cocking it, just as Draco had taught me. Slipping my finger effortlessly into the trigger, I slowly began counting back from five. I only made it to three before I fired, and then I couldn’t stop. I kept pulling the trigger until all the bullets were gone, all of them wasted into the ground that was as cold as the metal they came from.

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