Turning Point

Outside it was raining cats and dogs, but inside the Burrow everyone seemed content. Everyone was there. Even Percy was pleasantly talking to Fleur, a Butterbeer in hand. The room was filled with smells of Molly’s cooking and the voices of every Weasley (whether they were born or adopted) chatting or laughing.

This is it, Ginny thought. This is how it feels to be truly happy.  She smiled to herself and tried to memorize every sound, every scent and every face. She wouldn’t forget this day, she couldn’t.

“Weasley.”

She frowned. No one would call her that, at least not at her home. Except…

“Weasley!”

She felt herself being shaken. The voice sounded stronger, but it still seemed to be a whisper.

“Merlin, Weasley, wake up! It’s already five minutes past your turn!”

“Go away.” Her quilt muffled her voice, and she rolled over searching for her favourite spot on the bed.

“Oh no, I won’t.”

She thought she heard him mumble something about witches doing wizards’ job in the middle of the war. Not that she cared at the moment. For a while she enjoyed a little victory, though not for long.

“Hey!” was all she managed to say when the quilt was suddenly removed, sending her over the bed to the floor. “I was sleeping! I was even having a nice dream.”

“I don’t care. Your shift has already begun, and no one is out there making sure we don’t get attacked. So put a cloak on and do as you swore the day you decided to take part in this war.”

She was still sleepy and would’ve tried to get out of her responsibility, maybe asking Bill to take over, but he had a point and she didn’t want to seem weak. At least, not in front of him.

“Fine,” she finally grumbled, getting up and pulling her cloak around her shoulders. It was the last month of spring and it wasn’t that cold, but she had been so cosy in her quilt that she wanted to keep the warmth.

Ginny heard him chuckle.  “What?” she spat, giving him her deadliest glare.

He just pointed at her, and she realized her cloak was inside out.

“What?” she asked again, putting on a nonchalant face, “I like to wear it that way.”

“Yes. Right.”

She finally found her shoes and blindly put them on, heading to the door. When she felt him following her, she turned and gave him a quizzical look.

“Just because I feel generous tonight,” he answered her wordless question, “I’ll keep you company until you’re wide awake.”

She waved a dismissive hand and stepped outside. She couldn’t help shivering a little bit when a cool breeze hit her. She sat on the bench next to the door as gracefully as a filled potato sack. “I don’t get it,” she said. “If we have wards, why do we have to keep watches?”

“Sometimes your naiveté amazes me, Weasley. It’s not as if some good wards will discourage the Death Eaters if they really want to attack.”

She realized at that point that sleepiness wasn’t good for her wit. She had to try though. “And you would know about Death Eaters, right, Malfoy?”

“Sadly, I know.”

Sometimes that stupid little thing called a conscience really bothered her. “Sorry. Sometimes it’s hard to remember you’re not one of them.” Sleepiness wasn’t good either for her bluntness.

“You really suck when it comes to apologizing.”

“You’re not exactly the best either.”

Draco finally sat next to her, perfectly straight. Ginny rolled her eyes; he was such a show off.

“So…what were you dreaming?” After she gave him a murderous look, he replied, “I’m just making some conversation to keep you from sleeping.”

“Nothing special,” she admitted. “It’s just that it was good to have a nice dream instead of all those horrible nightmares that wake me up every night.” Ginny wasn’t lying. Since she was a part of Bill’s team, she hadn’t been properly resting.

“Have you tried a dreamless potion?”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“Sometimes I wonder.”

Ginny hit his arm as hard as she could. If entirely awake, she would’ve managed to inflict a lot of pain. Still, she knew he was such a baby when it came to physical damage and smiled widely when he complained. At least she shut him up, but she knew it was better to have him close, especially since she wasn’t feeling entirely awake, and, even if her eyes were open, inside she was drifting over to her bed…

“Petrificus Totalus!”

If the ray of light that flew from his wand wasn’t enough to startle her, his voice could’ve managed to do the entire job. In the few seconds it took for her to react, Draco was already approaching the lifeless bundle that lay some yards from the forest. Her heart was racing, afraid of what she might discover.

She released the breath she was holding when she recognized a friendly face.

“Boot! Stupid git.”

Draco was furious and Ginny knew better than contradict him at the time. Anyhow, she felt the same way he did. But when he turned around and headed to the house leaving the petrified Terry Boot behind, she just had to ask him.

“Are you going to leave him there?”

“He was supposed to be back hours ago. Serves him right. He should be thankful I didn’t hex him.”

“I didn’t know he was assigned to something.”

“He wasn’t.”

And with that Draco was gone. She cursed through her lips when it took her some time to find her wand in her cloak.

“Ennervate!” In a flash, Boot was on his feet.

“Where were you, Terry?”

“I-uh… Sorry, Ginny. It just- it won’t happen again. I promise.”

Ginny just watched his back as he jogged across the field between the house and the forest. She still caught the murderous glare Draco sent his way before Terry disappeared through the door.

“What was all that about?” she asked, slouching on the bench.

“If you don’t know, Weasley, I really wonder where you were the last month.”

The look she gave him promised worse injuries.

“Fine,” he spat. “But you won’t like it.” He paused and breathed deeply. He seemed to be looking for the best way to put it. “Wizards… have needs. The war doesn’t make it easy on us so the town nearby provides… ways to fulfill them.” If she hadn’t known better, Ginny would’ve thought Draco had blushed.

“Needs? What are you talking about? What needs? Oh…” She blushed as the idea sunk in. “So Terry went there to…”

“Everybody goes,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Bill?” Her eyes were wide open. Draco chuckled.

“No, not Bill. Fleur would have him hung by the most painful part of his body if he did.”

Ginny felt relieved. That wasn’t something that fit with the idea she had of her brother. Suddenly, she grinned.

“You?”

He snorted. “It’s a Muggle town, Weasley. Besides, Malfoys don’t pay for their women.”

“That doesn’t keep you from having needs, as you put it.”

He stuttered something and then replied, “I have other ways.”

Oh, she was enjoying this too much. “Other ways? Enlighten me, Malfoy, please.”

Draco glanced at her. He had nothing to be ashamed of. He wasn’t the one sneaking in the night to get laid. “Not that I should mind you. Cold showers.”

“Cold showers,” Ginny repeated several times as if it was some charm and something had to happen the moment she said it right. “Does it work?”

He didn’t even look at her. “Just like magic.”

Ginny decided to give him a break from the sex talk. That was something about Draco she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know about. She already knew some things from girl talks she had overheard in Hogwarts and from the random witch she crossed in the meetings that asked if the rumours about his virtues were true. Of course, she had to ask what rumours they were, and had found out that if they actually were true, the guy sitting next to her probably featured in every girl’s naughty dream.

They didn’t speak for a while, and she felt herself slipping back into slumber. “Let’s talk about something. Anything...”

“Huh?”

“Talk to me. I’m sleepy.”

She knew he was giving her a reprehensible look. She didn’t care.

“Well, later when the sun comes up we have to-“

“No. Not about the plans and the meetings and the sodding Dark Lord. I’m sick of it. It’s not fair. I can’t even have a decent night of sleep without being awakened by my own screams or some git -no offence- who tells me it’s my turn to take responsibility for twenty lives. It’s too much, Malfoy.” She paused to sigh. “Don’t talk about the war, at least not tonight.”

He dropped his head and started playing with his hands. She wouldn’t have dared to spill her heart out, especially not to Draco, but she was really tired, physically and emotionally. When he didn’t immediately reply, she started sorting potions ingredients in her mind to keep her awake.

“Quidditch,” he said after a long pause.

“What?” she asked, not quite understanding.

“Let’s talk about Quidditch then.” He smirked at her. “I personally find that topic very entertaining.” He would never admit it, but the way her face glowed made him feel proud of himself.

She straightened her back to the wall and smiled at him. “Best match ever?” she asked.

He could not tell if it was the way the moonlight was glowing on her face, but Draco imagined that would’ve been the way she looked when she was a little girl, all smiles and innocence. “I don’t know,” he answered scratching the back of his head. “There are so many.”

“Yes,” she agreed, also unable to answer her own question.

Draco saw her disappointment when suddenly her eyes stopped gleaming as she regained her sloppy position on the bench. She sighed, and then something triggered in his mind. Was she trying to manipulate him? He had lived among too many Slytherins; he knew how to spot the signs. His inner brat crossed his arms on his chest and looked the other way. She could wait forever. He had done more than enough by offering to share more of his precious time, which, by the way, he should be spending resting. “The World Cup final in my fourth year was kind of… unexpected.”

Her eyes glowed with a mischievous shine. He was just glancing at her from the corner of his eye and recognized the familiar gesture appearing on her perfect face. She was smirking! “Save it, Weasley.”

“What?” she asked, almost laughing.

“I know what you are doing, so don’t act so smart about it.”

The smirk disappeared and was replaced by a pouting lip.

They both sat in silence while having a battle of wills: who would speak first. He won.

“The one where Ireland kicked Bulgaria’s…”

He raised an eyebrow of disapproval. In his manners book, that kind of language was not worthy of a lady, not even of a Weasley.

“Save it, Malfoy,” she said, mimicking his tone.

“What?” he repeated, with a smile growing on one side of his mouth.

“I know what you are doing.” She poked one finger on his arm. “And I will speak as. I. wish.”

Silence again. Were they playing? If so, she won this time.

“I didn’t expect Krum to catch the snitch. He took down the entire team! They lost because of that.”

“Actually,” she retorted, “they had already lost; it was either that or stretch the agony.”

He leaned his head against the wall. “Maybe you are right, but you don’t give up on your team. You don’t run away.”

She sighed. “Sometimes,” her eyes wandered far away, “running away is the best thing to do, the only thing to do.”

This time he turned his head all the way to face her. There was sadness in her eyes.

“It’s Quidditch, Weasley; not war.”

Her eyes were now glowing with unshed tears. But she didn’t cry. They stayed still for a while looking into the horizon. Morning was few hours away. She thought he could still have some sleep. “Go and rest.” Her gaze stayed glued to some spot in the woods before them. Draco was tired, but he knew she was more so.

“No,” he answered dryly. He turned his face to her when he felt her staring. “Your senses are not at their best tonight. I don’t want to risk everyone’s safety. You go inside, and I’ll take over.”

She felt anger growing inside. She didn’t like being told she wasn’t fit for a task, especially by Draco Malfoy.

“No,” she threw back at him not even flinching. Her voice was surprisingly calm. “This is my watch. I’m staying. You-” She rose and held on to the fence surrounding the house. “You may do as you please.” She didn’t mind showing her hurt. They said women were difficult to understand, but Malfoy… He was beyond anyone’s understanding, she thought. One moment he could be honest and thoughtful, and the next he was hurtful and very… inconsiderate! With him, she never knew what to expect. Was he going to be Mr. Nice, the one she knew he could be, or the infuriating brat that spoke words that felt like a slap across the face?

She was so immersed in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the noise the bench made when he stood up, or his steps closing in behind her.

“There,” he said, putting a cup of coffee on the fence. She raised her eyes to meet his. There was something soothing about them, about the way he was looking at her. She convinced herself that was the way Malfoys apologized.

“You summoned coffee for me?” Ginny had a wicked little smile on her face. “That’s not something I expected you could manage.”

He raised an eyebrow, not flattered at all. “You’d be surprised about the things I’ve learnt these past years. Good night, Weasley.”

“Are you going to risk having me watch over your precious life?”

“You’re wide awake now. I’ve done my job.” He turned around and went inside.

“Good night, Malfoy,” Ginny finally said. Once she found herself alone, she smiled. Mr. Nice was on.

Years later when she looked back on that night, she knew that had been the turning point in their relationship. They had become friends; they had taken their own wards down. It hadn’t been a surprise, therefore, when he first kissed her, nor when she kissed him back.