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The Highway Man by marahlynn
Story Notes:
J.K.Rowling and Alfred Noyes get credit for this one. And thanks to my beta!
First by marahlynn
Author's Notes:
This story is based on the Alfred Noyes poem, "The Highwayman". Lorena Mckennit also has a song with the same lyrics which inspired me to write this. There will be more, this is just a set up before the action.

The wind was whipping through the trees with a power hard enough to force a less skilled rider off his broom fifty miles back.

But Draco was more than a skilled rider, and this night especially nothing could keep him from reaching the small inn at the end of English countryside. On this night, the country seemed to recognize Draco’s need to make it out here in the middle of the England before venturing back into the war torn world which now required him to do double bidding in order to survive. The moon looked like a ghostly Galleon thrown up to light his way through the purple moor.

He called himself the “highway man” because of the task he set himself to do until this world set itself right again. He used to play for the dark side, well until he met her.

She had changed something within him but that wasn’t as easy as it seems.

He was of the inner most circle that the Dark Lord called on to do his bidding that took him all over the country, claiming territory for their side as they went. Draco rebelled a few weeks ago and has since worked to thwart the men’s efforts by riding ahead and getting all of the innocent people to safety before the riders came.

They wore bright red riding coats with small red wand pins going up and down their arms, symbols of the mudbloods and blood traitors they “released” into the next world. The color represented the blood they promised to extract if they didn’t receive “adequate” patronage. Whatever they fancied at the moment to satisfy their ghastly needs seemed to qualify under the category of patronage. Draco followed their path over the various highways they had plotted to travel, but it was becoming increasingly more difficult as the weeks wore on due to the fact that the group had decided to split up and take different routes to try and throw him off their trail.

Tonight he was scouting out ahead of the lesser of the two groups because he couldn’t seem to locate the other group, which contained several of the death eaters known for their…skills.


Ginny sat in her room on the second floor of the inn she now called home with her damaged older brother. Ron had sustained some permanent damage after the Battle of the Burrow, as it is now known. Most of the Weasleys had been either captured or killed, save for herself and Ron. The only reason she was spared was because of one Draco Malfoy.

That night she had been having a nightmare and woke to hear the sounds of far off flying in the distance. She had run into Ron’s room, which was across the hall from her own. The first blast shook the old house. Normally the Death Eaters would want to see the occupants of the house before deciding whether any of its inhabitants would be useful to “the cause”, but everyone knew where the Weasleys dwelled, and everyone knew which side they fought for.

Ron had gathered her onto his broom and they had flown out of the house landing beside the lake that bordered their property in time to see Fred, George, Bill and Charlie being disarmed and bound. They watched as their house fell to the ground with their parents and Hermione still inside. Ron had been driven into madness hearing his beloved’s pleas of help while being raped, tied to her bed. After, her shrieks of pain as she burned alive put him over the edge.

Ron had fallen into silence and indifference since that night.

Ginny had been found sitting beside her catatonic brother by none other than Draco Malfoy, sent by the others to find the two bodies not accounted for. She saw him fly over their hiding space and they shared a loaded look. His face had been frantic and tortured before their eyes met. The moment he saw her, pure relief filled his expression.

They had found comfort in each other during the final days when Hogwarts was still in session, and since then they exchanged sporadic letters, filled with love and hopes of a better future where they could be together without fear for the other being killed. The dark side had since gained the upper hand and they were now just simply picking off the resistance one by one.

Draco had flown down and given Ginny directions on how to get to an inn he once heard was already within the lines of the dark side, and so they wouldn’t be bothered. He told her to flee there and he would come to her at night, to check that she was safe.

That was how these encounters began, only weeks prior. Ginny would wait in her bedroom with her brother safely asleep in the room under her. Draco would fly through the countryside and come to her window; she knew from each of these encounters that if it was past midnight, he would not be coming. Sometimes there would be time for soft caresses and exchanges of love and lust, but other times just a quick promise of more times to come, a gift exchanged.

Ginny fingered the red wand pin she had been wearing pinned to her lace white bra, thinking of their last visit where he had given this to her after making love for hours. She had felt guilty that she hadn’t anything to give him, especially after his explanation of how he was planning to take her away from this country to hide out in France or Ireland until England was righted again. She had tied a lace white scarf she had been wearing the night they escaped from the burrow around his neck as he was descending from her window.

She told him she would always be with him, as he was with her.


The blood red wand reminded her of how Draco had risen to become more than she ever dreamed in these last few weeks. She had seen him weep when talking about the crimes he committed, the lives he destroyed, and the fear that his soul had been lost. She had given him hope that he could be good for her. He had shown her that there was something in him that was ready to claw its way out. It was like a phoenix that was bursting from him, all the bravery and strength he had never been allowed to show before. Now he had a goal, he had to be good for her, he had to make her proud, and he had to make the world a place where their children could one day grow.

With this thought he spurred faster over the cobblestone road, seeing the small inn ahead of him, he leaned flatter to his broom, anxious to see her face before the night left them unsatisfied with their allowed time once again.



This story archived at http://www.dracoandginny.com/viewstory.php?sid=6354