Written by: Giulia “Kagome-sama” (now JuliaFC)

Beta-read by: Chibisarel and Porlock (in 2003); Silver1119 and MysticRaven20 (2022)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

***

Chapter one: The Fugitive

***

Draco ran, without a destination, through the dark and lonely streets of Muggle London. The rain hit him and wormed itself everywhere: under the neck of his shirt, down his jeans. Shaking from the cold, he took the first street to his right, then quickly turned left and continued to run, trying to find an opening where there were people, where he could vanish into the crowd.

His heart was bursting out of his chest, and his breath echoed throughout the deserted alleyways. The Muggle clothes that he wore were completely soiled and soaked. They stuck to him and greatly annoyed him. His feet were frozen inside his wet shoes that squelched with every step he took. His fists tightened and felt like blocks of ice.

How he hated having to dress like a Muggle, having to constantly mix with them, having to sleep in hotels that were smelly and too full, often sharing the room with someone. Not because there was no space. Nor because he didn’t have money…but he had no choice, to hide himself from the Dementors.

He couldn’t carry on like that. Why had he been so bloody unlucky?

“Mr Malfoy, good evening. Mr Malfoy?” The smiling face of a girl with brown hair appeared, urgently, in his mind.

No, it’s impossible, it can’t be. Go away! Don’t follow me! As he continued to run, Draco brought his hands to the sides of his head. He didn’t want to remember!

“Mr Malfoy, look…it’s snowing!”

Quick! He had to find a shelter, a place where he couldn’t be found, a place where memories wouldn’t attack him.

Damn, why did the Dementors have to find him? Why was it that today he didn’t get a bedsit in one of the many hotels and hostels in London? Why couldn't he find even a single bloody person on the street to be confused with?

“I’ve always loved the snow, Mr Malfoy. But my family moved to Miami, in the last few years. This is the first time that I’ve seen snow in a while!”

Turn right, to the lef—no, a blind alley! Go straight. They can’t catch me…they can’t catch me…they can’t catch me! Draco’s heart echoed his thoughts with tumultuous beats and seemed to want to establish itself in his throat while his knees began to buckle. His legs felt heavy; he wavered.

NO! I must find people. Damn, why isn’t there anybody around? He tripped and fell. He got up, tired and gasping for air, and looked around, granting himself the luxury of a short rest.

It was eleven o’clock on an icy mid-December evening. The rain was pelting Draco's skin like a whip; only a little colder and it would've been snow instead. His breath looked like a thick cloud in front of his face and his muscles burned like fire under his soaked clothing, as his frozen feet shot icy waves of pain through his core. He coughed from fatigue, but his eyes continued searching feverishly. The darkness that enveloped London’s roads and alleys didn’t help at all. He saw a flash in the shadows and his heart skipped a beat.

“Mr Malfoy, do you know what becomes of snow when it melts?”

“Well, sure…water? Vapour?” echoed his own voice from his memory into his head.

Draco had finished Hogwarts four years ago…and had passed the last two hiding from the Dementors who hunted him everywhere he went. They tormented him, bringing back to the forefront of his consciousness all his resentment, all his pain and remorse—all his hate.

“No, Mr Malfoy. You are mistaken! It becomes spring!” Her luminous smile had warmed Draco’s heart; he remembered it as if it had been yesterday. He remembered the short girl he met at the Ministry of Magic. She used to talk to him about snow melting into spring. Marion… Marion was her name.

No, please! Don't make me remember her! I don’t want to remember. I can’t…

He looked around, terrified.

I can’t allow myself to remember, again.

Every angle that the spectral lights of the lampposts left in the dark could hide traps, or worse, a Dementor ready to suck his soul. No! He’d like to hold on to his soul, thank you very much.

He resumed running, even though his legs were giving up on him; even though his eyesight was becoming clouded. Even though his heart was bursting in his chest and the pain at the back of his throat was making his endurance reach its limit. He felt his lungs with raw precision. He would've been able to tell exactly where they began and ended. His spleen made its presence known as well. His knees shook and his feet slid around in his sneakers, too wet to adhere to the slippery floor.

I’m a coward, a selfish idiot, Draco thought, his gaze still darting around. Anything would do: a gate ajar, a disco-pub still open; anything that took him off the street and brought him among people, where the Dementors couldn’t find him.

Perhaps it would be better to end it, he thought, slowing down. To die was perhaps more dignified than to continue living as he had. He wouldn’t be able to resist much longer anyway. But something prevented him from letting go. Was it a survival instinct? Was it a will to hold on to life or at least to a memory of it? Or was it, perhaps, his pride?

Of course, not…the truth is that I’m a coward! he thought, hurrying his steps. I don’t have the courage to die.

Turning left without looking where he was going, he found himself on a dark alley, feeling the squishing of his feet in the puddles as if they came from another world.

He bumped against someone and uttered empty words of apology; he turned and struggled not to fall and continue running. A car went to a halt in front of him. The headlights hurt his eyes, which by now were accustomed to the dark. To avoid collision, he stepped to the right and continued straight, his eyes still dazzled from the headlights. He did it without watching where he was stepping or where he was going. This alley was just like any other alley, right?

Wrong. He reached a dead end.

Draco did an about-face. Still blinded, he blinked as he observed the road he had left, trying to focus his gaze on it. At the end of the alley, just ahead of his only way out…there it was!

The Dementor.

He tripped over his Muggle shoelaces and fell.

“Father, what are you doing?”

“Father, let Marion go, what has she done to you?”

“Marion…now she’s become Marion. We have arrived at this?”

The dark and angry face of Lucius flashed in his memories. He wore a fixed glare loaded with contempt. A contempt that hurt him in the deepest parts of his soul. It made him feel like a Mudblood. Even worse…it made him feel like less than a human being.

No, no…

The Dementor was slowly sliding towards him. Draco was still, crouched on the ground, his hands resting on the soaked asphalt. His breath created solid clouds when he gasped for air in the cold of the night. He was exhausted. He couldn’t do anything other than observe death approaching. He’d be worse than dead. A body without a soul.

Like his father.

And, what made it even worse was that little voice in his head…his conscience, telling him that he deserved it.

“Crucio!”

“No, Father! No!”

“Draco! This whore is only trying to take advantage of you. She only wants your money!”

Lucius’s hard eyes had sweetened in the veiled sarcasm of madness. He looked as if he was trying to convince himself of the truth of what he was saying.

“It's not true!” The painful cry of the only woman who had succeeded in melting his heart echoed in Draco's head.

No, please, please…By now he was trapped in the memory. Frozen on the spot, he couldn't move a finger. The Dementor seemed to be enjoying his terror and nourishing itself on his anguish, on his pain, on his disgust towards himself; on his sense of guilt. Draco was drowning in guilt.

He couldn’t remember how to protect himself. He cursed, blaming himself with his last clear thought for not having paid attention to those lessons of Defence Against the Dark Arts. But by now it was too late for stupid regrets.

“It’s true! This woman is lying to you! Do you want to tarnish the Malfoy name!?”

The look on Lucius’s face would have frozen an erupting volcano, but it hadn't intimidated him. No, Draco wanted to defend the woman he loved. Lucius had slapped him and was ready to hit him again if he objected. And, at that moment, Draco had hated him. For the first time in his life, he hated his name, from the deepest reaches of his heart. He hated his lineage and all it meant.

But what was worse, he hated his father.

His idol.

His model.

The one who represented everything he’d intended to become.

The utopian image that had been forged in his mind since his childhood had broken into a thousand pieces, and this had made him feel devastated, even more so than Marion’s screams.

“NO!” she'd howled between spasms of pain. “Mr Malfoy, I’m not lying! I’m not lying…”

But her pleas could hardly be heard between her screams and sobs. Draco’s hand was still on his aching cheek, as he watched his father approach Marion. He placed himself in front of her, trying to prevent his father from torturing her further. His pale eyes were glaring at the man he had at one time considered his whole world.

No!

“Remove yourself from there, pitiful excuse for a son!”

“No! I won’t allow you to keep hurting her!”

Draco’s look in his memory was firm, hard and cold. It was the first time in his life that he’d felt true hatred towards someone. Not even towards Dumbledore, not even towards Potter he’d tasted hatred so dark and penetrating. In that very moment, Draco was ready to do anything, even to kill his own father.

NO!

“Remove yourself, I said. If you don’t remove yourself, I’ll torture you as well,” his father’s voice threatened.

I beg you, NO!

“You won’t dare…” Draco’s voice in the memory said, while his hand ran to his wand in his pocket.

“No, Mr Malfoy, don’t do it! It…It’s true! It’s true…I…I tricked you, Draco. I’ve taken you for a ride. I’ve done it only for the money. My family’s drowning in debt and I…”

Marion’s voice echoed in his head, her pleading face flashing in his memories. He remembered his own shock. He remembered how he turned and watched her in disbelief. It couldn’t be true. He saw in her eyes that it wasn't true, but that moment of uncertainty had been his downfall.

NO! NO!! The Draco in the present brought his hands to the sides of his head and began mumbling senselessly. He crouched, embracing his knees and rocking back and forth. Tears ran down his cold cheeks, reaching his mouth as he sobbed, making him taste salt and bitterness.

“Avada Kedavra.”

The heart of the Draco in the memory stopped as he looked in the direction his father had moved. Lucius was standing next to Draco now, and his father’s wand pointed at Marion behind him. Draco’s blood froze into his veins—he'd got distracted for a fraction of a second and had lost track of his father. He had allowed this tragedy to happen. A flash of triumph crossed Lucius’s eyes.

NO!! I beg you, enough, ENOUGH! Please. Anything you want. Kill me. Strip me of my soul. Render me a vegetable…none of it matters, nothing! Nothing! But don’t…

The Draco in his memory turned around slowly towards the point where, until a moment before, the woman he loved had suffered, his throat clenched, his soul bruised as he searched for her.

Don’t…

The only person who'd ever loved him.

Don’t…

The only one that had made him feel alive.

Don’t make me see her again!

And then, he’d seen her lying on the stone pavement; her hands still joined in prayer, tears still wetting her cheeks, her brown eyes still open wide. Those eyes that until just hours before, were sweet and full of life. Full of mirth. Those eyes that had stricken his heart and made him experience so much joy. Those eyes were now cold, and empty…and staring at him.

‘NO!!’

He withdrew into himself; by now unaware of the rain, of the mud that stained him, of the cold that penetrated his bones and made him shiver. He knew that within moments he would be worse than dead. Having now caught up with him, the Dementor would suck his soul and leave behind only an empty shell.

As the monster took him with both hands and pulled him up, it stared at him for a long moment. Draco looked Death in the face and found himself resigned to it. He deserved it; it was what he wanted now. He wanted to get rid of the pain, to get rid of the anguish, to get rid of the fear.

I’m soaked, I lost all dignity, will and honour…dressed in Muggle clothing and hating my name and myself. Cornered like a rat in a foetid and dark alley. Like a criminal. What a beautiful way to die, for the last of the Malfoys…

‘EXPECTO PATRONUM!’

The urgent cry of a male voice ripped through the air, echoing around the deserted alley.

Draco turned towards the sound, dripping with sweat, rain and tears, his eyes still red from crying. He couldn’t believe his luck, but he was seeing it, indeed. A beautiful Patronus in the shape of a stag took aim at the dark figure in front of him.

The wonderful creature caught them and wrapped itself like a shield to protect the blond wizard from the monster. The Dementor howled spectrally; it was an acute and strong howl, enough to freeze the blood. Then, it fled. Gagging, Draco fell to his knees and saw the monster sliding away in the darkness. It felt strange to still be alive…

‘Move. Before that thing returns with reinforcements!’ said a male voice, bringing him back to reality. Someone stretched out a hand, and he took it. It was warm. Draco didn’t know the identity of the person who saved him; he couldn’t see him in the darkness. But he would have followed the stranger until the ends of the Earth.

‘I…’ he mumbled.

‘Questions later…Now run!’

His saviour helped him up and started running, dragging him along. His mind still blank and filled with cotton, Draco concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and followed the person.

They ran at break-neck speed through the dark roads of London, ignoring the sleet that was slowly covering them and the puddles that soaked them even more to the bone. Suddenly, they saw a gate half-open, and they entered it, closing it behind them.

Falling to their knees, they both gasped for air. Draco was still in a state of total confusion. He felt as if he was living in a dream and did not want to wake up…But it wasn’t a dream, he realised. He was cold and his teeth were chattering. His feet, still frozen, tingled painfully. There wasn’t a part of his body that was dry and the icy drops that fell from his hair flowed down his neck and trickled down his back. But….He was alive! And most importantly, he wasn’t an empty shell.

‘I…’ he muttered between breaths, not knowing what to say.

He knew that he now owed a life debt to this person, according to the Wizards Code of Honour. From now on, he was linked to this person with ties that were stronger than any Muggle contract.

‘Are you feeling better?’ his saviour asked. Draco nodded and finally raised his gaze. As the light shone on the ledge where they were sheltered, he was able to see the face of the person he was now in debt with—and his heart stopped.

The jet-black hair was a little dishevelled. The glasses, round and soaked, were covering a pair of shining green eyes that looked at him with a mix of amusement and worry. On his forehead, under the wet and dirty hair, he caught a glimpse of a scar shaped like a lightning bolt.

‘I have a feeling that it doesn’t please you to see me, Malfoy,’ Harry continued between breaths and an amused grin on his lips. ‘It would be nice to hear you say thanks, but I know you won’t.’

Taking his glasses off to give them a quick clean, he looked at Draco mockingly for a moment. Then, the amusement vanished from his gaze and his face took on a more serious expression. He looked at the ground, putting his clean glasses back on.

‘I didn’t save you to make fun of you. It’s just that…nobody should die in a back alley in such a horrible way. Not even you.’

Draco shivered when his companion glanced at him again.

Potter. Yes, Harry Potter…had saved his life.

To be Continued…

***

Chapter 2: I’m Not a Death Eater!

***

It took Draco a moment to recover from the shock. He continued to stare at Potter, as the other man re-adjusted his own clothes. He saw Harry remove his heavy cloak with the pointed hood and shake it, to get rid of the excess water. Then, Harry squeezed dry the sleeves of his jacket and the legs of his trousers. Finally, he draped his cloak back onto his shoulders and turned to look at him.

‘The last person I thought I’d come across in a Muggle back alley, running away from a Dementor, was you, Malfoy. What happened?’ Harry said, staring at Draco with curiosity. He seemed truly concerned. How could he be? And why?

‘And the last person I thought I’d find was you, Potter. What made you think that I wanted your bloody help?’ The words came out even more bitter than he intended.

‘I’d gracefully remind Your Lordship that if I weren’t there to save your royal arse, your arrogant little face wouldn’t be a pretty sight to behold right now,’ Harry snapped back.

A hard smile curved Draco’s lips. Well, well. Potter's learned some sarcasm; time hasn’t gone by only for me.

‘You just can’t get it in that minuscule brain of yours, can you? Maybe Your Lordship didn’t want to be saved; especially not by you,’ Draco snapped. And it was true. He’d rather die than have a life debt to…Potter! His father would never forgive him. But then again, his father was more than dead now. Who would tell him off? Who would even care? His eyes were staring right on his companion, who cocked an eyebrow at him.

Harry stretched out a hand to help him up, but Draco ignored the proffered help; so Harry opened the gate they had just closed behind them. A gust of icy air whisked into the landing, together with some snowflakes that had replaced the earlier rain and now quickly settled to the floor. Harry gestured towards the door with his free hand.

‘If it annoys you so much to be alive, the door is open. You can leave,’ Harry said. ‘I don’t think it’ll take them much time to find you again. There’s nobody around in this weather…’ He smiled slyly at Draco’s bewilderment.

‘I didn’t want to be saved, but it doesn’t mean I want to go back outside,’ Draco said as a shiver ran down his spine.

Nodding with a grin, Harry closed the door. He ran his hands through his hair, approached the steps on his left, which probably brought to the upstairs apartments, and sat down on one of them. Draco leaned against the wall and lowered his gaze.

‘Why were you out?’ Harry asked, looking at his own shoes. He took a moment to untie his shoelaces and tie them again.

‘I’d ask the same of you,’ said Draco curtly. ‘It’s not that easy, nowadays, to run into Saint Potter. Especially in the streets of London.’

This distracted Harry from his shoes, and a pair of green eyes stared at him. The Boy-Who-Lived seemed to think carefully about his words.

It was true.

They had finished Hogwarts four years ago. During their seventh year, they had faced Voldemort using the only weapon that could cause his death, the Green Torch. They had found it inside the Department of Mysteries, hidden inside an enclosed room. They’d used it in a memorable battle, a fight that had nearly killed everyone. Professor McGonagall, the new Headmistress after Dumbledore had disappeared in the sixth year, had died helping them. It had been a terrible loss.

They had become heroes. They had ended the year under the limelight, even if their hearts were drowning into sorrow. For a while, things had gone well, but Harry had never liked to be the centre of the attention, and this time was no exception. He’d wanted to be able to take some time for himself, to recover from the blow of the terrible losses he had endured—it was what all of them wanted. Ron, Hermione, Ginny…they had all loved the former Head of Gryffindor House. She had left an overwhelming emptiness in their hearts.

Strangely enough, not long after Dumbledore disappeared, Sirius had come back…all of sudden and without giving an explanation. Harry couldn’t be happier to see him again, but his godfather didn’t want to tell him how he got out of the Veil. Harry had tried to find out, but Sirius had always changed the subject…in the end he hadn’t asked anymore, accepting Sirius’s right to keep it a secret. He suspected that Professor Dumbledore had played a part in it, though.

Anyway, using his newly acquired "influence" over the Ministry of Magic, Harry had cleared Sirius from all the charges. The day when the sentence of his godfather had been revoked had been one of the happiest of his life. He’d not been forced to return to Privet Drive any longer, and had moved to number 12, Grimmauld Place.

Ron had finally had his dreams come true…He’d got married to Hermione in a very private ceremony, and had also become the reserve keeper for the Chudley Cannons. Hermione had continued to study and was often travelling for work. They were like two peas in a pod; they argued constantly, but reconciled quickly.

Then, little more than two years before, someone had destroyed their peace.

Voldemort.

Yes, him. Still alive, despite all efforts.

‘It’s not easy to meet you either. I read in the Daily Prophet that your father received the Dementor’s Kiss two years ago. Many Aurors have been looking for you ever since.’

‘Are you one of them? Were you following me? If so, you should’ve let that Dementor kill me. I’d have preferred that than to be indebted to you. Not kidding,’ Draco said, slurring his words as his teeth chattered. He looked at Harry with his pale eyes as deep shivers ran through his body and a deep cough tickled his throat.

‘Me? An Auror? You must be joking. No, I wasn’t looking for you, I’d gone out to get something to eat.’ He pointed to the package he was carrying, which Draco noticed for the first time. ‘But it’ll be cold by now, so the others won’t want it.’ He sighed.

‘What were you doing in the alley then? The stores in this neighbourhood were all closed.’

‘In fact I got this from the other side of the city. I’d only just Reapparated here when you bumped into me.’

Draco was startled. So that was Potter…After I bumped into him, he must have followed me to help me. He tightened his fists. ‘Don’t expect any apologies,’ he hissed.

Harry bent his head backwards and laughed. ‘Of course not. And I don’t expect you to thank me either; I know you won’t.’

Without looking at Draco, Harry opened the package he’d bought. It was all cold…well, it didn’t matter; they’d heat it up. He took something out of it and bit into it. Then he turned towards Draco and threw him another.

‘Eat,’ he said. Draco observed with astonishment that what he had caught instinctively was a chocolate bar.

‘I won’t accept your charity, Potter,’ Draco said, his teeth chattering with every word. It was not easy maintaining a semblance of dignity in that state…and he couldn’t stop coughing, damn!

‘Malfoy, I always knew you were a git, but I didn't make you a complete idiot.’ Harry smiled when Draco’s eyes became small cracks on his face. ‘You were about to receive the Kiss from a Dementor; it’s not a small thing. You’re shaking like a bloody leaf!’

Draco realised at that moment that Harry was right. Probably the shivers running along his back weren’t due to the cold alone.

‘I don't think the Dementor was the main cause of that,’ he reflected aloud, looking down at his soaking clothes. But he glared at the bar, unwrapped it and bit into it.

Harry seemed to notice his condition for the first time, his astonished gaze assessing his companion a little more closely. ‘I guess that you won’t tell me what made you go out in this weather without an umbrella,’ he stated.

‘For once, you guess correctly, Potter.’ Draco looked at the floor. The only thing he still had left was a little pride. If Potter would find out what kind of life he’d been leading, he’d never dare look at his own face in the mirror ever again.

Draco knew very well that he looked like a shadow of the wizard he once had been. Paler than ever, haggard, dirty; he disgusted himself. There was no need for Potter to make him feel worse. In truth he's already done it…He smiled sardonically at that thought.

'I don’t think that you’ve been having a good time. I remember you more in shape. And I never suspected you liked Muggle clothes,’ Harry observed simply. It was obvious that Malfoy was in trouble. Harry wanted to help, but Draco had to open up first. Which, he being Draco Malfoy, was quite hard to believe it was going to happen.

‘Actually, I don’t like this crap.’ Draco glared at the soaked clothes that he wore. ‘If I hadn’t been forced to, I would never have put them on.’

‘The Malfoys have never had money problems. Even if your father received the Kiss, I don't think they'd confiscate all your fortune, so it can't be because of financial issues. I suppose it wasn't your choice to live among Muggles; I’d never think you’d be able to.’ Harry sneered at Draco.

‘What other choice could I have? Azkaban?’ Draco's look seemed to harden, if possible. He was silent for a moment, too busy trying to stop coughing. ‘I won't allow you to make fun of me further, Potter. I’m leaving.’

Draco moved to reach the gate, but staggered badly. His head felt like it was going to explode and the shivers that ran down his back, even if they subsided a little after eating chocolate, hadn't gone completely away. This surprised him, but after all, his clothes were still soaking wet and the moisture was penetrating to his bones, freezing him.

‘Where d'you want to go in this weather? Do you even have a place to stay?’ asked Harry with a frown. For the first time since they had found shelter, he was fully aware of Draco's sorry state. He hadn’t noticed it to start with—Draco's arrogance had fooled him. But, when the blond wizard staggered and steadied himself with the wall, Harry saw him shake his head and blink, and he couldn't ignore the way the other man looked anymore.

‘…’

Draco tried to put one foot in front of the other, leaning against the wall forcefully. Damn…he didn’t feel well at all. And the thought of returning to that storm didn’t really please him.

‘Stupid question. If you had a place to go to, you wouldn’t have been out in the rain, facing the Dementors,’ Harry thought aloud.

‘Why the hell d’you care?’ Draco shouted. While still opening the gate, he turned his head suddenly to watch Harry over his shoulder.

‘Because you can’t leave,’ Harry concluded, scratching the nape of his neck. ‘If you weren’t Draco Malfoy, I’d take you to the others. But they’d never forgive me if you betrayed us.’

‘Potter…’ Draco turned fully towards Harry with difficulty, his hand still resting on the gate. ‘It’ll cost me dearly to tell you this, but I don’t want you to get wrong ideas in that worm-eaten brain of yours. A Malfoy would never betray a life debt.’ He looked at Harry before exerting greater pressure on the handle of the gate to open it.

I've no choice. If I let him leave, he won’t last the night, Harry thought in horror. The temperature was dropping, and Draco was still wearing wet clothes. Harry wasn’t dry either, but his clothes weren't soaked; while Draco’s were.

Not that there was time to think; Harry forced himself to trust Draco. It cost him much, but he didn’t want to consider the only other choice he'd had. He rose from the step where he sat, picking up the package with the food. Then he hurried towards the gate that Draco had finally opened. He put a hand on Draco’s shoulder, supporting him, and they Apparated together.

When they Reapparated, Draco found himself a few steps from the large double gate of a huge, abandoned building. Draco broke away from Harry’s support as though the touch of the other man was burning him.

‘Potter, how many times must I tell you that I don’t need your help,’ he hissed, trying to get away. The rain had turned into hail by now, and was covering the roads with its white cape. The cold had become stronger than before.

‘Don’t act like an idiot now, Malfoy. Anyone with a little intelligence would know when they’ve reached their limit.’ Harry took him by the collar of the jacket and dragged him with him. They arrived in front of the gate and looked around. Then, Harry opened it with caution and entered, carrying Draco’s weight.

Finally, they made it to the landing and Harry let go. Draco tried to clean his jacket, annoyed, but the small pieces of ice that covered it didn’t want to fall off it. He was about to try again when someone opened the inner door of the building—maybe an abandoned hotel, or something like that.

‘Harry, thank God you’re back. We were worried!’ A young woman with bushy brown hair appeared behind the door, her frown and the crack in her voice showing restlessness. Behind her was a tall, muscular redhead with the expression of someone who had just seen a monster.

‘Sorry but…I had a mishap,’ whispered Harry, moving his head slightly in the direction of Draco. Ron Weasley’s eyes opened wide, as did Hermione’s. They had clearly recognised him straight away.

‘Harry, what the hell made you bring him here? Are you out of your mind?’ they burst in unison.

‘I notice that, as always, you have more brains than Potter, Mudblood,’ Draco hissed, looking at the woman mockingly. Hermione’s eyes widened and tried to speak; had she become unaccustomed to his insults? ‘I’d like to point out that I’ve not come of my own free will. He dragged me here.’

The two looked with horror at their companion.

‘I found him on my way back. He was being chased by a Dementor and I saved his life.’ Harry looked Draco in the eyes, sternly.

‘Save his life? Why on Earth would you save Malfoy's life?’ Ron said, getting even more horrified.

‘Shut up, Weasel,’ Draco snapped. Age and Quidditch have made him grow taller, not smarter.

Harry didn’t let them come to blows. He pushed Draco through the door and entered, removing his cloak and hanging it on a peg. Closing the door, he put down the package on a piece of furniture.

‘'C'me on guys, look at him…and tell me if I could've left him there.’

‘Of course you should’ve left him there, Harry,’ said Hermione. ‘We know very well that he’s a Death Eater.’

‘I’M NOT A DEATH EATER!’

Draco felt like his head would explode, and a deep pain in the centre of his throat forced him to start coughing, but he couldn’t allow them to insult him that way. Hermione stopped dead, vexed. She seemed astonished at a reaction of that sort. I can’t blame her. Until a few years ago, it’d have been a compliment for me, he thought. But nowadays things were different. Not that Granger could know that; and yet, she shouldn't have presumed.

‘Really? How can we be sure?’ Ron hissed, glaring at him.

Hermione crossed her arms on her chest and rhythmically stomped her foot on the floor, her gaze sparkling fire. ‘For all we know you could be a spy of Voldemort, ready to reveal our hiding place and get us captured. I’m amazed that no one has arrived yet.’

Hearing these words inflamed Draco’s face, which up until now was as white as a sheet.

‘Don’t you dare say that again, Granger.’ Baring his left arm, he waved it forcefully in front of her eyes, while her words burnt him even more inside. ‘D’you believe me now? I don’t have the Mark, I’m not a Death Eater!’

Hermione didn’t seem surprised. She observed his arm sceptically and then glared at him again. ‘That means nothing. You could be a spy for Voldemort even without the Mark,’ she snapped.

Draco knew that it was true and he couldn’t blame her. However, he wasn’t going to lose an argument with her. And above all, he didn't accept to be confused for one of those. One such as his father.

‘Now, Granger, please don’t offend the intelligence of us both. My father has received a Dementor’s Kiss.’ His sight was clouding. Damn, his headache had got worse and he was aching everywhere. He staggered while aiming a finger at Hermione, but her glare didn’t seem to soften. If possible, it hardened.

‘The parents of many Death Eaters are in Azkaban. Why should you be an exception? Your father receive the Kiss because he murdered someone, a girl, if I’m not mistaken. Why should we believe you? Even if Harry saved you, you’re still a Malfoy.’ The girl hissed that name as if it were an insult. Draco's sight blurred at her words and Marion’s face flashed in his head. He had to blink twice before speaking his mind.

‘I don’t care if you can or cannot accept it, Granger, but I urge you to get this truth into your damned Mudblood head. I’m a Malfoy. I won't betray a Life's debt.’

"Mr Malfoy, good evening! Look, Mr Malfoy, it’s snowing!"

Draco staggered again and blinked, trying to remove that memory from his head. He began to feel colder, ice invading his spirit. Oh…he knew that feeling well. He paled and opened his eyes wide.

‘What’s going on, Malfoy? You look like a ghost,’ Hermione said. Despite the sour words, her tone showed anxiety and a thin line wrinkled her forehead while she approached him, her gaze scrutinising him worriedly.

‘A Dementor…nearby,’ groaned Harry, who also blinked, grabbing hold of a piece of furniture to prevent himself from staggering. He too grew pale, but succeeded in resuming control. Luckily, this captured the attention of Hermione and Ron, leaving Draco to deal with his ghosts unnoticed.

"Mr Malfoy, look how much snow! Mr Malfoy?"

Draco shook his head, cursing the pain such a small movement inflicted to him. He didn’t want to see Marion again; he didn’t want to feel sick. Not there, not now. Not in front of them.

He had to leave.

He turned and moved to get out, but staggered unsteadily. He cursed under his breath—he didn’t want them to see his weakness; not the Mudblood and Weasley. It was bad enough that Potter had seen him at his worst and had saved his life.

"Mr Malfoy! Look, it is snowing!" Marion’s smile flashed in his mind's eye, followed by his father's glare. His heart tightened in pain.

"Don’t you understand that she’s lying?"

"I’m not lying!"

"She’s lying!"

"Mr Malfoy, do you know what becomes of snow, when it melts?"

"She’s a whore who wants to tarnish the name of the Malfoy!"

"That's not true!"

"She’s a whore…"

Draco didn't even realise that he brought his hands to the sides of his head. The memories emerged and dissolved in his brain like painful flashes, making him dizzy. Harry wasn’t feeling well either—his hands on the sides of his head exactly like Draco. Ron and Hermione came close to their friend asking him worriedly how he was feeling.

"I’m not lying Mr Malfoy!"

"Draco, please…tell me you’ll never leave me."

"She’s lying. She only wants your money!"

"She’ll tarnish the name of the Malfoy!"

"Tell me that you won’t ever betray me. I wouldn’t bear it."

"She’s lying…"

‘ENOUGH!!’ he screamed without even noticing, smothering a cry while embracing his clothes, which were still wet and cold. His head was heavy and his thoughts confused.

‘Malfoy? What’s going on?’ Not only Granger, but now even Weasley looked at him with concern. Damn…he couldn’t keep his composure anymore. Hermione’s face blended with Marion’s; the questions of the woman in front of him faded into the howls of pain of the one he’d loved.

"I won’t allow you to harm her!"

"Draco, look! Have you ever wondered what lies beyond the rainbow?"

"Remove yourself!"

"I love you, Draco!"

"NO!"

"It’s true! It’s true, I tricked you, Draco. I've taken you for a ride!"

"I’ll torture you!"

"I’m not lying, Mr Malfoy!"

"I’m not lying!"

"Avada Kedavra!"

‘NOO!’

He fell to his knees. He didn’t want to think of it anymore. Once again that image of the woman he loved, lying on that stone pavement, flashed across his mind. Those eyes, empty pools of pale brown, were blaming him in his conscience and were dragging him to hell. He felt as if his heart had been torn out of his body and crushed into a million pieces. Then he felt someone approach him and try to move him with little success. He felt an icy cold hand on his forehead.

‘He has a very high temperature!’ Someone smothered an outcry.

‘What?’ said another.

Draco felt them muttering amongst themselves, then he felt his body being seized under the armpits. They made him get up, guiding him somewhere. He didn’t have the strength to complain or to resist in any way. The soft touch of a pillow behind his neck was the last thing that his mind recorded, before his consciousness slipped into darkness.

To be Continued…

***

Chapter 3: The Rules of the Game.

***

Mist. The world around him was filled with it.

Draco knew he was in a forest, but he didn’t see any further than a hand in front of his nose while the pouring rain overpowered every noise. He remembered an intense pain, a battle…one memorable clash. And now, where was he? Who was he?

With caution, he walked ahead, looking around. The intricate weave of the trees and the whipping of the thunderous rain hindered his sight. He turned around, and to his horror he found himself at the same point he’d started. He saw the body of a dark-haired young man a little shorter than average sprawled on the floor. He seemed vaguely familiar, as if Draco had known him well—his black hair, robe and cloak reminded him of someone.

But Draco stepped back in horror when he noticed the blood that was splattered all around on the ground. The man was dead—he must have taken part in the battle, because he wore a robe of ancient style and a kind of armour.

Slowly, the mist began to disperse. The contours of the forest became clear and luminous and, finally, Draco could look around.

The dense woodland that surrounded him seemed familiar; only the placid waters of a distant lake broke it. A lake still covered in mist.

Unexpectedly, a muffled cry attracted his attention. Draco didn’t know where it came from, but one thing was sure: he wasn't alone.

He moved, looking around with caution, and soon found the source of the noise. Little farther ahead of where he was, lying by the river, was a man. He wasn't young, but his hair was red like the sky at sunset although spotted with little threads of white. His face, grimacing in pain, was beaded with sweat. His clothing was of ancient style and was covered with his blood.

Next to the man, a small and delicate brunette was crying. Her long braids soaked, her face hidden between her hands.

‘Why did it happen?’ asked the man in a weak voice. ‘Why get to this point?’

The woman sniffled and dried her wet cheeks with the back of her hand. She stood and bowed at the dying man.

‘Do not concern yourself now. All shall be well…you will be well. In the end, you were pardoned.’

‘Yes, but at what price,’ he said. He seemed willing to say something else, but no more sound came out his mouth; the muffled and regular beating of the rain was the only noise that filled the silence of the forest. The woman bent over the dead body of the knight; her sobs resonated in the air, as a proof that she was, in some way, still alive.

***

Draco woke and sat up. He discovered that he was lying on a sofa and wearing clean pyjamas.

Where am I? It doesn’t seem like the usual hostel…and I never put pyjamas on, he reflected while his senses noticed, without warning, the smell of food that wafted all around. His stomach rumbled furiously—it seemed that he hadn’t eaten for days. He blushed, looking to see if there was anyone around.

He moved his legs off the sofa in order to sit against its back. He felt weak…but surely better than the majority of mornings he’d had until now. The place was warm, and the pyjamas smelled of soap.

Suddenly, he heard a noise and turned towards it. A girl with long, flaming red hair, stared at him eyes wide, holding cloth that fell out of her hands at the sight of him. She quickly collected it, blushing and made to leave the room.

‘Wait,’ said Draco, ‘who are you? You can stay…I won’t bite.’

She blushed even more and stopped, watching him. ‘I came to check up on you. We were all worried, you’ve been very ill,’ she said. Her voice was familiar, but who she was, he didn’t remember.

‘All?’ he asked, frowning. Who’s all?

‘Harry, Ron…everyone…’ she finished.

Draco’s eyes widened when he heard those names, as the memories of what had happened before he lost consciousness came back to his mind. He blanched. Yes…Potter had saved his life. And now Draco had even more to thank him for, not just for that bloody Patronus. Damn!

‘How long have I been sick?’ he said.

‘You’ve had a high fever for four days. Hermione studied a little Muggle medicine, and said that you had pneumonia. She made a potion in order to cure you, and you’ve got better. You’ve been in and out of consciousness for ten days.’ She wrinkled her forehead at Draco's irritated grunt. She approached, however, and sat on a chair in front of him.

‘You’re Ginny Weasley, right?’

She nodded.

Very well…not only did he owe his life to Potter twice, but now he also had to thank the Mudblood? He was ecstatic about the situation. ‘Now, all that’s left is that Weasel has miraculously raised me from the dead overnight, and then I swear I’ll commit suicide,’ he said.

‘If you mean Ron,’ said a voice to his right, ‘he went everywhere to get ingredients for Hermione’s potion, and almost got attacked by a Death Eater. He didn’t do it for you though, but because Hermione asked him to. Don’t worry, your life’s not in danger,’ said a voice from behind him. Draco turned and recognized Harry; he sank against the sofa.

‘I was going to call you, Harry,’ said Ginny, rising hastily.

‘How long has he been awake, love?’ Harry asked, emphasising the word love in a way that Ginny didn’t like, thought Draco, because she looked a little annoyed.

‘Only a few minutes; he finally seems to be better.’

‘Good…give him something to wear and show him the way to the library. I’ll get back there.’ Harry approached Ginny and hugged her from behind, giving her a light kiss on the neck. She seemed to appreciate the gesture. Or at least, she didn’t withdraw, but smiled pleasantly, ruffling his hair with an affectionate gesture.

I must've been mistaken, Draco thought, shaking his head. Ginny waited until Harry left, then walked over to a settlement beside the sofa and took from it a robe, a cloak and some underwear. She gave them to Draco and walked away, entering another room.

Wow! A wizard’s robe…how long has it been since I wore one? He dressed, suddenly happy, and sighed from the appealing feeling of the woven fabric on his skin—he never was able to tolerate the Muggle clothing that he was forced to wear in order to hide. Sure, the colour maroon wasn't exactly his favourite…and he guessed to whom that robe belonged. It was a little too long for him, but not distasteful.

When he had dressed, he decided to see what Ginny was doing. He discovered that the room where she had gone was the kitchen. It was bigger than the one in which he had been confined and was equipped with every type of gadget, reflected Draco.

In a corner, Draco noticed a funny clock that had the faces of Harry, Ginny, Ron, Hermione and a man he didn’t recognise on its hands. All the hands pointed to the library, except the one of Ginny, which said kitchen, and the one of Ron, which Draco couldn’t read where it pointed. Ginny had just opened the stove, checking something that smelled like a roast. At the unexpected smell of food, his stomach reminded him of just how many days it had been since he’d last eaten.

Draco blushed to the root of his hair.

‘I didn’t think your face could ever get to that colour, Malfoy….’ said Ginny with a smile. Draco felt even more blood rushing to his face, but he resumed his usual demeanour almost immediately. ‘However, I understand that after all those days without eating, you can’t resist the smell of food. Go and seat yourself at the table. I’ll bring you some tea with biscuits,’ she ordered.

Draco smirked, noticing how comfortable she looked in the kitchen, but did as he was told. She came with a pot of tea and some biscuits, and only when he bit into one did Draco notice just how hungry he was.

‘You seem to like my biscuits. Ron says they’re dull, Harry…doesn’t even speak of them at all.’ She snorted. Draco couldn’t answer, as he was entirely taken up with testing the capacity of his jaws. He hadn’t eaten anything better than this in his whole life. Potter and Weasley must have somewhat strange tastes in food. It didn’t surprise him—they were idiots after all.

‘I saw Potter hugging you earlier. You must be happy, Weasley. If memory serves, you nearly died mooning over him at Hogwarts,’ he drawled after swallowing a biscuit and washing it down with tea. He saw Ginny’s expression darken.

‘All that glitters is not gold.’ Ginny stood, an annoyed frown furrowing her brows, and went away. After some time she returned with more biscuits and a second pot of tea. It was clear that she hadn’t stormed off for those—she could’ve made them appear on the table with a simple spell.

‘What do you mean?’ Draco's hunger started to subside. As his stomach became full, this new matter ignited his interest.

‘Well…Harry is now my boyfriend.’ Her cheeks flushed. ‘He does treat me well…he’s affectionate and kind. That's all.’ A melancholic sigh jolted her chest.

Draco watched her mockingly. ‘What did you expect? Passionate love is bullshit from romantic novels,’ he said, but Marion’s smiling face flashed in his mind. She had been happy…until his father had destroyed their lives. Or, at least, she’d said she was.

‘I know that, Malfoy. However….’ The young woman blushed, as if she were on the verge of saying something, but decided not to. She glanced around and stood up, starting to clear the table. ‘The others are waiting for you in the library. You go back to the small room with the sofa where you slept. Then you take the corridor to the right, and after the stairs, go through the glass door to the left. Not to the right or you’ll find yourself outside.’

Draco was seriously thinking of getting lost on purpose, but then he changed his mind. With a maroon robe and a black cape, wearing slippers and without money in his pocket he wouldn't go far. So he followed Ginny's instructions and again, he found himself in an enormous room.

The walls were filled with books of every kind. Some were the typical books of Wizards, old-looking and covered with dust. Others seemed to be Muggle's. Surely Granger wasn't fastidious and had collected anything that was made of paper and had printed words on it. There were also piles and piles of newspapers and magazines, of every kind and from the look of it, in various languages.

‘Finally you're up, Malfoy,’ said a voice to his left.

Draco turned in the direction of the sound, and saw a pair of brown eyes looking back at him. After debating for a moment in his head on who it could be, Draco decided it must be Sirius Black. He stared at the older wizard in disbelief—as far as he knew, Sirius died many years before. What was he doing there? He'd seen his photo so many times in the newspapers a few years ago that he could hardly be wrong. What happened? He was itching to ask, but decided to leave the question for later.

‘Yeah. Seems that I’ve slept a lot,’ Draco said, trying to keep his tone dry. A little intimidated by the incredible mass of books that surrounded him, he darted his gaze around to familiarise with the place. In one of the lateral wings of the library, he saw a person carrying a pile taller than she was. The person approached along the table where Sirius was sitting and put down her heavy load. When he could finally see her face, Draco noticed that it was Hermione.

‘Oh, finally the sleeping beauty from the sofa considers us worthy of his presence,’ she said.

‘I’ve told you, Hermione, he only woke up a while ago,’ said Harry’s voice. Draco saw that Harry was standing on the stairs, reading a big tome.

‘What do you want to do with him? You’ve had some time to think,’ she said in reply.

Draco cleared his throat—he didn’t like to be talked about as if he wasn’t there. ‘Potter won’t decide for me,’ he burst dryly.

Hermione glared at him. ‘Fair enough. But he had the great idea of bringing you here, he saved your life…he did it all. Thus, I think that he must also establish if you can stay here or not.’

‘As for me, he can stay. I’ve said it plenty of times.’

‘What if he's a spy?’ Hermione argued.

Harry rolled his eyes and sighed noisily: probably the young woman had already placed this objection many, many times.

‘I think that we’ll find out soon enough if he’s a spy,’ Sirius said, closing the book he’d been reading. ‘By now we've no choice. Even if we kicked him out, he’d know where to find us. It’s also useless to do a memory charm,’ he continued seeing that Hermione wanted to speak again. ‘Those childish spells have no use with Voldemort.’

‘Okay Sirius, I understand,’ said Hermione. Draco’s eyes widened after hearing the confirmation that his suspicions were correct—that man was indeed Sirius Black. But he had to recover quickly, because Hermione looked at him and asked, ‘So…d’you want to stay?’

‘I don’t have much of a choice,’ he reflected. Thinking coldly, he didn’t have any intention of continuing the life he carried out before. Even if he’d had to share the house with Potter, Granger, Black and the Weasleys, to be there was better than going from a Muggle hostel to another, risking being caught by a Dementor at all times.

‘You’re ready to swear not to betray us?’ Hermione asked, her eyes narrowing. ‘I don’t know if I’d believe you, but…an oath is an oath.’

Draco slammed a hand on the table; his grey eyes flamed with anger. ‘I may also swear on the Malfoy name if you want,’ he shouted. How dare she, a filthy Mudblood, doubt his word? ‘If it makes you feel better, I mean. Potter saved my life. It annoys me to admit it and to remember it, but it’s an unfortunate fact.’ He sat on a nearby chair and chose a comfortable position, crossing his legs and arms.

‘Very well,’ said Sirius. Harry appeared on Draco’s side, resting three books on the table and sat next to the elder wizard as he continued, ‘Since you’ve decided to stay, we need to establish some rules. First, you’ll have to clean up your act.’

At that, Harry and Hermione smirked, and that greatly annoyed Draco.

‘What d'you mean, Black?’ Draco said and sat more decorously, supporting his elbows on the table and his chin on the back of his hands.

‘I mean that you will do your part of the work. You won’t behave as if you rule the world and you won’t insult others.’ Sirius stopped and smiled lightly when he noticed that the blond wizard was sneering. ‘I shan’t compromise on this point, Malfoy. I remind you that if anyone here loses their patience with you, we won’t hesitate to give you back your clothes and kick you out. Finding another hiding place isn't something that makes us smile, but it’s not impossible.’ Sirius’s gaze locked with Hermione's while he emphasised the word anyone.

‘I’ll try my best.’ He noticed that his three companions stared at him a little incredulously. ‘I mean…I won’t insult you if you won’t insult me. And I shan’t compromise on this. It will be difficult to hold my tongue. So, if you don't hassle me, everybody will be happier.’

‘Fair enough.’ Sirius locked gaze first with Harry and then with Hermione, stopping a little longer on the girl. Then he eyed Draco. ‘Okay, now let's come to the second point on the list. You must swear not to betray us, Malfoy.’

‘As I’ve said, I swear on the Malfoy name. Honour is the only thing that I’ve left,’ snapped Draco.

‘Very well. We’ll try to believe you,’ Sirius said, looking at Hermione with the corner of his eye. The young witch didn’t seem happy, but eventually she nodded. As soon as she did, Sirius looked at Draco again. ‘There’s another thing, Malfoy,’ he continued.

Draco watched, with a questioning look.

‘You must learn to shield yourself and protect yourself from the Dementors. If you carry on the way you did in the past few days every time one passes by, someone might discover us.’

‘I can’t promise to succeed, Black, but I’ll try.’ This time, Draco was serious. He wanted to learn how to protect himself from those monsters, and badly. He didn’t want to see Marion’s death before his eyes again. He couldn’t show his weakness in front of Potter and the Mud—. Uh…Granger.

‘If you don’t break these rules, you will be welcome here. Now, take a book and begin to work.’

Draco looked at Sirius as if he were crazy. 'Excuse me?' he asked.

‘Sirius, you forget Malfoy doesn’t know what we do here,’ Harry reminded him. ‘Unless he has psychic powers….’

‘…Which is impossible, given the look on his face,’ said Hermione.

Draco glared at her, but stayed silent and his reaction seemed to be a relief for the witch. Probably it was a matter of trust: the bags under her eyes told Draco that probably she hadn't slept well since he had started to live with them. At first, she was probably worried about his critical condition. He knew her sense of duty pretty well: even if it was him…he was a human being. She must have taken responsibility for his life, and if he had died, she never would’ve forgiven herself. But of course, her agitation didn’t fade even when he got stable. She didn’t trust anything he said, no matter what. Draco smirked.

'Two and a half years ago, Harry’s scar started hurting badly. To make a long story short, we discovered that Voldemort hadn't been destroyed in the battle that had caused Headmistress McGonagall's death. The Death Eaters came back more powerful than before and the fear re-insinuated itself in the Wizard World,' explained Hermione.

Draco nodded—it was a story that he already knew well.

'Your father was the first to be condemned as a Death Eater. He had used an Unforgivable Curse and, a few days after it, the Dark Mark had come back. Cornelius Fudge didn't trust him anymore and this time no price could’ve been enough to save his life.

'Panic burst everywhere immediately after his execution. Your mother went crazy for the fear and the humiliation, and is now locked up in Azkaban. The wizarding prison is now kept by mutant forms of Dementors, like the ones that patrol the Muggle streets, magically forced to obey Ministry orders. As new Death Eaters joined Voldemort's ranks, we've been forced to hide. Even though the public opinion and the Ministry were on our side, the Death Eaters were looking for us and we couldn't expect the Ministry to constantly protect us.'

Draco nodded in agreement. It made sense.

'For months,' continued Hermione, 'we hid between a wine cellar and a cove. I had to give up my studies and my new job; Ron had to give up on his career as a Quidditch player. When we found this place—it's a Muggle hotel that had been abandoned for being dangerous—we managed to fix it with ad hoc spells and made it our home. Having found again a semblance of privacy, we decided to start our research.'

‘Research of what kind?’ interrupted Draco.

‘We’re trying to understand why the Green Torch didn’t work. That object was supposed to destroy Voldemort, not to knock him out for a few years,’ Harry said. ‘All the books that you see here have been supplied by the Ministry and several libraries. The newspapers have been piled up for a few years, we haven't thrown anything away.’

‘And what conclusion have you reached, in two years?’

‘None.’ Harry sighed and opened one of the books, turning the pages absently. ‘It seems there’s nothing to explain quite what the Green Torch is. The only person who could’ve helped us is…beyond our reach.’

He refers to Dumbledore, of course, Draco thought. The old Headmaster of Hogwarts had never found his sympathy, but the young man knew very well that, with respect to Ancient Magic and its secrets, he was second to none. He had vanished in unknown circumstances, which had been a relief for the Dark lord himself, and also for Draco's father.

His father…Draco felt he had to remember something, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what.

‘What shall I do?’ he said, trying to forget the horrible feeling that he had something important to say and couldn’t remember it.

‘Help us.’ Hermione handed him a few books from another part of the table. ‘Scan the books and look for any information on the Green Torch.’

‘I’m not a book-worm like you, Mud…Granger,’ Draco corrected, clearing his voice. Hermione looked at him with an annoyed frown, but didn't object, as if pretending not to have heard his insult. Maybe the reason was that he had corrected himself, and she found that was a step in the right direction.

‘You think that being here going over these books and wasting my days is my ultimate goal?’ she burst. ‘I had a career, you know. I took care of the Department of International Magical Cooperation and I assure you that it was much more satisfying than breaking my back in this library every day.’ She shrugged at his sceptical look. ‘I still like studying. But I miss travelling, and International relations.…Maybe this is too difficult to understand for the likes of you.’

Draco glared at her for a long moment, itching to argue something in reply, but eventually decided against it. So he opened one of the books and began to read.

To be Continued…

§§§.

Chapter 4: You called me Marion.

§§§.

They read books all morning. Draco read three with attention, and then just skimmed through five others. He began to understand the depressed mood of the group.

‘Damn, none of these even mention a Green Torch!’ burst Draco closing the ninth volume of ‘Magical Objects: Where to find them’ and throwing it onto the table. He leaned heavily against the back of the chair, hiding a big yawn.

‘In truth, the Green Torch is mentioned in a couple of books, but only as the weapon that Harry used to destroy You-Know-Who,’ said Ginny entering the library and sitting next to Harry. He handed her a couple of books which she diligently started to leaf through.

‘Yes, we all know how well that worked out,’ Draco drawled sarcastically, getting up from the chair and approaching a wide bookcase.

Harry sighed. Ginny put a hand on his shoulder as she said, ‘At least it did for a while.’ Harry rested his right hand on hers and squeezed it.

‘But was it worth it for a few years of illusion?’

Nobody answered. Draco guessed that he asked a question nobody could answer without hurting Harry’s feelings. Hermione closed the book she was reading and stretched tiredly. Ginny frowned and suddenly all eyes turned to look at her.

‘Look here…it talks about a kind of Torch,’ she said, a little excitedly. But her excitement was short-lived. ‘Ah no…it’s only a trick for magicians!’

Five people snorted.

Hermione got up. ‘I’d better go check on the roast,’ she announced.

‘I turned it five minutes ago and switched the oven off,’ said Ginny. ‘We’ll have to wait for Ron to come back; according to the Clock, he’s still far. You know that it’s impossible to Apparate during the day, with Muggles everywhere.'

‘I told Ron that it was a bad idea to visit the Burrow. It’s true, however, that New Year’s Day was just a few days ago and that someone had to go present them with our wishes,’ said Hermione, staring at an empty chair which Draco suspected was where Ron usually sat. Then, she walked towards the door. ‘I’m going to check his position too. Maybe he got closer while we were talking.’

Draco looked at the long row of books that was spread across the wall. While his eyes were on a volume that seemed to deem some interest, he saw the contours of the bookcase start to vanish. He blinked a few times but his vision didn’t clear. Then he noticed that a shelf had been added.

‘The Ministry has found more materials for us; as if the rubbish they’ve sent us already isn’t bad enough. Useless books we’re wasting our eyesight over,’ said Harry, noticing that two other shelves had appeared.

Draco eyed him sceptically, and had a look at the new material. There were books of black magic and some volumes that he had caught a glimpse of in the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts.

‘Isn’t the location of this place meant to be secret?’

‘It’s top secret, in fact,’ Sirius answered. ‘Only Remus knows where to find us. He’s working at the Ministry and he's the one who's getting us these books. They are not rubbish, Harry.’

‘Perhaps they’re not rubbish, but they are useless. For two years we’ve continued to leaf through them day after day, never finding anything more than mentions of my fight against Voldemort…or some magical tricks for Muggle magicians.’ He crossed gazes with Ginny, who sighed and slumped her shoulders.

‘Maybe you’ve been looking for it in the wrong way,’ mused Draco.

‘How do you propose we do it then?’ cried Harry. Sirius gave him a strict glance. ‘I mean…what do you think we could’ve done differently?’ He reddened and lowered his eyes.

‘Nervous, huh?’ Draco sneered. This was starting to amuse him…it cost him a lot not to insult them, but it had its advantages. ‘It happens that I haven’t spent the last two years working in this place, as some of you have pointed out earlier. I don’t know what you've been doing, but I can see that there's a lot of material around here, even Forbidden volumes. You probably just haven’t tried the right sort of book yet.’

Harry stood from his chair, his eyes shooting daggers at Draco as he moved closer. He grabbed Draco’s shoulder and forced him to turn.

‘Look there,’ Harry snapped, pointing to the other side of the library and showing Draco an enormous book-case, filled with hundreds, maybe thousands of volumes. ‘They’re all the books that we’ve read over the last two years. There’s quite a few, right?’

He let go of Draco and went back to his seat. Draco massaged his shoulder and sneered at Harry, but was truly impressed. The bookcase covered the length of the wall and extended all the way up to the ceiling which was three times higher than normal.

Draco went to the other side of the big room, trying to find something more interesting to read. Eventually, he sat on the floor with his legs crossed, and looked through some books that he remembered seeing in the Restricted Section of the library at Hogwarts.

Damn. I'm sure that there’s something I should remember. Why do I have this horrible feeling? he thought as he skimmed through the pages of a volume. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t lose the bad feeling. The books he was scanning talked about a completely different subject to the one that he was looking for: he put them back in their places and stood, cleaning the dust from his robe and going a bit farther.

‘I’ll go check on dinner,’ said Ginny. Harry watched her leave the room as he closed one of the books he was checking and picked up another.

‘There are also school books about how to use Tarot Cards,’ Draco said, amazed by the detail, ‘why did the Ministry think they would be important?’

‘I've no idea,’ replied Sirius and gave him a glance while skimming another volume, a Muggle one. ‘There’s only one way we can be sure…checking its content.’

Draco sighed and started to read said school book, but it didn’t mention a Torch at all.

He leafed through another two or three books, until he saw Hermione coming back to the library, tying her hair in a ponytail and approaching him to take some other books to read. She picked up another pile and went to her seat.

Every hour seemed to last an eternity. Being now used to always looking over his shoulder, Draco found that he couldn’t concentrate on reading and was quickly growing bored. At last, he heard the sound of footsteps in the hall.

‘Ron! You’re back!’ exclaimed Hermione. Throwing the book that she was reading onto the table, she stood and ran to her husband, wrapping him in a tight hug. ‘What took you so long?’ she asked, before giving him a soft peck on the lips.

‘I couldn't Apparate or I would've been back earlier,' Ron admitted. 'There were too many Muggles on the streets; I didn’t want to take the risk.’ As he returned the hug, Hermione cleaned the soot off his nose and began brushing the ashes off his cloak.

‘Fred and George are at the Burrow. Mum isn’t feeling well and she needs help,' Ron started explaining. Then his gaze met Draco's and the blond wizard saw the tall redhead straighten his back, his jaw tightening as his lips pursed. 'Oh, he’s awake,’ he said eventually.

‘Yes, he promised to clean up his act and Sirius gave him permission to stay,’ Hermione replied. She leaned in and whispered something else into Ron’s ear.

‘Malfoy,’ said Ron, as Draco finally reached them and sat down. Ron was staring at him as if he had paint splashed across his face and this annoyed him.

‘What d’you want?’ asked Draco dryly, skimming through another book.

‘I daresay that the colour of maroon suits you better than me.’

Both Harry and Hermione choked a chuckle at this.

‘Of course it does,’ Draco snapped, cocking his eyebrow at the redhead. Ron's ears turned pink. ‘I daresay that most things suit me better than you.’

‘Malfoy!’ Ron looked ready to hit Draco.

SMASH!

Sirius slammed a book onto the table and said, eyeing the newcomer sharply, ‘Ron, calm down, please. You were the one to annoy him first.’

‘I did not,’ started Ron. Then he looked at Sirius for a moment and eventually had to lower his gaze. ‘Well, maybe…maybe yes, I provoked him. But…you know, it's not something you see every day, Malfoy wearing my clothes.’

‘It was me who gave your clothes to Malfoy, Ron,’ said a voice from outside the library. Ginny came into the room, carrying a tray that held a teapot and some biscuits. ‘His Muggle clothes were far too dirty and worn out for me to fix, even with magic. Welcome back, by the way. How’s Mum?’ She hugged him with a single arm and then went back to her seat to rest the tray on the table.

‘She’s not well. She’s never recovered from Dad’s death, and I don’t think that she ever will.’ Ron sighed, and Ginny frowned at his words. ‘Fred and George are there with her. They didn’t even want to joke today…it gave me the creeps.’

‘Maybe I should go home, I could look after her,’ mused Ginny.

‘You’d just put her and the Burrow in danger,’ said Harry with a sigh. ‘Molly is more than a mother to me. I don't like the idea that she’s not well either, but we can’t go there.’

‘Bloody Death Eaters!’ Ginny swore. 'I feel so powerless…' She sniffled, hugging her arms.

***

Ginny sighed as she unbuttoned the top of her robe. As always, they'd spent all day reading and searching for information that didn't seem to be there. She was used to that; after all they'd been doing it for over two years now. However…

‘Are you all right, love?’ asked Harry, his legs slipping tiredly into his pyjamas.

She glared at him before nodding in reply. Damn, if you can’t give that word its true meaning, don’t use it! She was tired, tired of waiting. There was a time that she would’ve been happy with what she had now. She really had been happy at first…until that day, a few months ago.

‘Are you worried for Molly? I know you want to go visit her; I’d like to go, too.’

As Harry approached her from behind, her robe slid from her body and fell to the floor. He hugged her gently, leaving a soft kiss on her collarbone. She stood on her tiptoes and pushed herself against his chest. Harry’s hands ran up her body, reached her breast and cupped on it as his lips drew a line of light kisses up to her jaw.

Ginny allowed herself a little sigh when he nibbled at her right earlobe. Yes, it was just what she needed to clear her mind and think of nothing tonight. She turned to him, her hands wandering up his neck until her fingers sank deep into his jet-black hair. She saw the desire in his green eyes and smiled, deciding that, for now, it was enough.

With a gentle push, Harry made her lay on the bed, and was immediately on top of her, kissing her everywhere. She loved the weight of his body over hers; it made her feel vulnerable but also safe. The desire she read into his eyes was also reassuring, it lulled her into the illusion that she was the only subject of his thoughts. A shiver ran down her spine as he tickled the sole of her foot, and she barely hid a giggle. Then, she pushed him onto the other side of the bed, placing herself on top of him.

‘My turn tonight,’ she murmured into his ear, her lips gently brushing against his cheek.

‘Okay,’ was the last coherent thing he was able to say.

§§§

Ginny woke with the horrid feeling that something was wrong. She lazily stretched her legs and arms and looked around, trying to understand what was going on. The room was hidden in the darkness; only the light of the moon outside showed the contours of the objects, and her surroundings. Still dazed by the lack of sleep, it took her a moment to understand the origin of the bad feeling—Harry, groaning in his dreams.

‘Harry? Harry, what is it?’ she said, shaking him. It didn’t wake him up. ‘Harry? What’s wrong? Can you hear me? Wake up!’ She shook him so hard that in the end he opened his eyes, in shock. He stared at her without seeing her, as his eyes were glazed. Fighting to keep her cool, Ginny slapped him right in the face. Once…and then twice. And at her second attempt, he regained his senses with a loud gasp.

‘Huh!’ He sat up and put a hand over his reddened cheek.

‘Is that the only thing you’re able to say?’ she asked, her heart still throbbing in her ears for the shock.

‘God, you hit hard…’ he stated, as he looked for his glasses on the bedside table, and fumbled them into place on his nose. Then he gazed at her with relief and smiled. ‘Thank you, Gin. A Dementor's around and when I sleep, I can't protect myself.’

‘You scared me,’ she admitted, her heart still thudding in her chest, her breath still erratic, her hands shaking badly.

‘Sorry…I didn’t mean to.’ He hugged her tight and Ginny forgot about the cold. They plunged into bed and stayed wrapped into each other for a while. Then, she felt him shivering and reluctantly broke their hug. Getting up from her side of the bed, she looked for her dressing-gown and put it on, setting out to leave.

‘Where are you going?’

‘To the kitchen, to get some chocolate for you and a glass of water for myself.’ She stroked his arm reassuringly. ‘I’ll be back.’

She fumbled her way out of the room in the pitch dark and reached the corridor—she knew the house well by now and she didn’t need any light to find her way around. She turned left, walked down on the steps and through the hall. When she was half-way through it though, she heard a muffled noise. Someone was groaning in pain, exactly like Harry did earlier.

It took a moment for her to remember that Draco was still sleeping on the sofa, in the small room before the kitchen. Damn, the Dementors are affecting him too, she thought. She burst into the room, approached the sofa and took her wand out of the pocket of her dressing-gown.

‘Lumos!’ she said. When the end of her wand lit up, she put it on the coffee table to brighten the room. Draco was tossing and turning in his sleep, his body wet with sweat and shaken by deep shivers as he muttered incoherently.

‘Malfoy? Malfoy?’ She shook him, but it didn’t help. ‘Malfoy, wake up!’

She shook him again, even harder than she had shaken Harry; when he still didn't react, she gave him a strong slap in the face…but only succeeded in hurting her hand.

‘MALFOY! CAN YOU HEAR ME? WAKE UP!’

Draco opened his eyes. ‘Marion,’ he murmured, sitting up to hold her strongly. Ginny couldn't breathe…she had to do something, or he’d squash her.

‘MALFOY! You’re hurting me; let go of me!’ She tried to wriggle out from his grasp, but to no avail. She tried not to give in to panic. Once, some time ago, Harry had had a similar occurrence. She'd carried the signs of his hold for a full week.

‘Marion…’

‘MALFOY, I’M NOT MARION, PLEASE LET ME GO!’ she shouted into his ear, wriggling against him yet again.

Suddenly, Draco gasped and his whole body jerked, as if caught doing something forbidden. He released her from his hold and put his hands on her shoulders. His gaze darted around, his usually pale eyes now almost dark in the dim light of her wand.

‘What…’ he muttered. When his gaze reached Ginny’s face, he frowned. ‘What are you doing here, Weasley?’ He forcefully removed his hands from her shoulders, as if they burned.

‘I was going to the kitchen to grab a glass of water and a piece of chocolate.’ Massaging her arms where Draco had held her, she staggered as she stood. ‘A Dementor was nearby. Even Harry felt it; I saw you were affected and tried to wake you.’

Something very close to a blush appeared on Draco’s face. Ginny smiled knowingly.

‘Did I say anything?’ he asked. His gaze seemed a little uneasy, as if he were frightened and Ginny thought that she knew why.

‘You called me Marion,’ she said.

Draco paled, his eyes widening. He put one of his hands on his forehead and shook his head.

‘Bloody hell,’ he muttered, and then yawned. He put a hand on his mouth, trying to only look tired, but his other hand was shaking on his leg.

‘Who’s Marion?’ Ginny asked.

He turned to stare at her, as a frown wrinkled his forehead. He opened his mouth to speak, but then closed it, choosing to stay silent. Ginny kept looking at him though, so he eventually let out a big sigh.

‘It’s none of your business, Weasley,’ he said. He laid back down on the sofa and turned away from her. Ginny waited to see if he’d change his mind, but she soon understood that it was useless.

‘Nox!’ she said, picking up her wand from the coffee table and putting it back in her pocket. The light faded away and Ginny walked to the kitchen.

Damn, I must learn to control myself when a Dementor passes by. That was a close call… thought Draco. He didn’t want to show his weakness, he couldn’t do it in front of the very people he'd made fun of for years.

When he heard that Ginny had left the room, he turned around on the sofa and put an arm under his pillow, trying to find a more comfortable position and resume his sleep. It wasn’t easy, as his teeth were still chattering; but he didn’t want to go look for a piece of chocolate in a kitchen that he wasn't familiar with. Especially not when Weasley was there. He tried to calm the shivers that ran all over his body, but failed. Too wrapped in his thoughts, he didn't notice a shadow approaching; when Ginny sat on the edge of the sofa, he gasped.

‘Here.’ The young woman held something out to him—some chocolate. Draco silently thanked his lucky stars and sat up to bite into it.

‘Thank you,’ he said through a mouthful of chocolate. Ginny blinked, obviously not expecting him to be a decent human being and say just that. Draco thought a lot about what he was going to say next, as he slowly bit into his chocolate, and then looked her straight in the eye. Now used to the darkness, they could both see each other by the dim light that came into the room from the shutters. ‘And…I’m sorry…for what I did before,’ he drawled, his gaze darting away from hers. He lay down and turned his back to her.

Ginny stared at him, transfixed. Did Draco Malfoy just…apologise? That was something she'd never, ever have expected coming out of his mouth!

‘Who’s Marion?’ she asked again. Perhaps now he would be more talkative, she mused.

‘I apologised, but I still don't want to talk about it,’ he retorted, dryly. Ginny sighed and stood up, setting out to leave.

‘Weasley?’ called Draco. She froze and turned back, waiting for him to continue. ‘You…didn’t see me tonight,’ he said without turning around.

She huffed, a little grin popping on her lips. ‘Maybe,’ she said before walking back to the room she shared with Harry.

To be Continued…

§§§.

Chapter 5: Diagon Alley.

§§§.

Draco woke to a delicious smell, which immediately reminded him of how hungry he was. His stomach growled as he stretched and looked around; nothing had changed from the day before. However....

He got up and the mere thought of having to wear Ron’s clothes again disgusted him. Although the clothes fit his body well enough, he was too proud to keep wearing them. He had to go buy new robes; although the very thought of going to Diagon Alley was giving him the creeps, he knew he had no choice. Luckily, he didn't think many people would recognise him. Who would suspect that this vagrant wrapped in a second hand robe could be one of the richest men in the country?

He put on the warm maroon jumper and the robes, also made in the same sickening colour. Where the hell is your taste Weasley? he thought, quite disgusted. He then went straight to the kitchen, after having fixed his hair by running his fingers through it; recently, he spent very little time on his appearance, having more important things to do. Right now Draco's most urgent need was to find food, as he was starving—of course, sleeping in such close proximity to the kitchen wasn't helping.

‘Morning, Malfoy. You’re such an early riser!’ Ginny’s voice called to him from a distance. The young woman was busy cooking what appeared to be tonight's dinner, and she didn’t even bother turning around.

‘Seems you’re an even earlier bird, Weasley. The smell of your cooking woke me,’ he said, trying to be polite. He still remembered what he'd done the night before, and he was so ashamed of himself for having shown his weakness… and in front of a Weasley no less.

‘If you’re hungry, eggs, sausages and rashers are on the stove. You can set up the table and have your breakfast,’ she ordered, talking to him without looking at him.

Draco didn't move initially, wondering if he should do as he was told or just stubbornly wait for Weasley to do it for him. He eventually decided that he was too hungry and the wait wasn't worth it. He approached the stove and put two eggs and some rashers on a plate.

‘No House Elves, huh?’ he muttered as an annoyed frown furrowed his brows.

Hearing that, Ginny raised her gaze from the meal, and stared at him in surprise. ‘You won't find House Elves here, Malfoy. First of all, we don’t have enough money to own one.’ She noticed that Draco was sighing at her words and added, 'Besides, Hermione would never agree to it.’

Draco rolled his eyes at that and Ginny smiled, watching him walk away from the stove with a plate in his hands and seat himself down at the table. As she had now finished preparing dinner, she decided to be kind and get him toast and an orange juice. After that, she wiped her hands on her apron and sighed.

‘I’ll have to go shopping today. My wand needs cleaning so I’ll have to go to Diagon Alley,’ she told herself absentmindedly.

Draco’s interest in her words grew. ‘I’ll come with you,’ he declared; it seemed more like an order than a request, and this annoyed Ginny.

‘Says who?’ she retorted, glaring at him.

‘I do,’ was his curt reply. They stared at each other, both determined not to be the first to look away. But eventually Ginny lowered her gaze and Draco chuckled. ‘It’s not like I’m looking forward to going out with you, Weasley. I need to buy some new clothes and I’ve got to go to Gringotts. And....’ He stopped for a moment to drink some of his juice. Then he stayed silent, not willing to say any more.

‘And...,’ Ginny prompted.

‘I have to go somewhere else too,’ Draco replied, looking at his eggs with fake interest.

‘I’m afraid I’ll have to follow you,’ she said as she used her wand to order the plates to move to the washing bowl and wash themselves. ‘You’re a wanted criminal.’

‘That’s why I should go alone. There’s nothing more conspicuous than a Weasley out shopping.’

‘We can’t let you go to Diagon Alley by yourself,’ a voice said from behind them. Draco turned and saw an almost half-asleep Harry, his eyes half shut and his hair was even messier than usual. He wore blue robes with purple lining, the hems softly touching his dark shoes. ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I do trust your oath...I’m pretty sure that you won’t say anything willingly. I’m trying to trust you. However....’ As he served himself some breakfast, Harry trailed off and sat down next to him at the table. ‘However, Voldemort knows well how to wring the information out of you. We just can’t risk it.’

‘What d’you want to do then, are you all going to come with me?’ Draco stifled a laugh. ‘I’m sorry to have to point this out to you, Potter, but I don’t believe that Weasley would be that useful against the Dark Lord. Or maybe you want to keep me tight on your leash?’ He shot a nasty look at the Boy-Who-Lived. They crossed each other's gaze, exchanging glares of pure and utter loathing. Seeing that this was going nowhere, Ginny cleared her throat.

‘Whatever you say, Malfoy. I’ll follow you everywhere you go, and that’s final.’ She took off her apron and clapped her hands clean. Then she hurried off towards the door. ‘I’m going to go get ready. Harry, please tell Hermione that everything’s almost done, she only has to put the pots on the stove and keep an eye on them.’

She was about to leave the room, when she stopped and turned around again. ‘If you want to come, be sure to be ready in half an hour. We’ve got to leave early to avoid the Muggle's morning rush hour,’ she told Draco. Then she left, leaving the two boys speechless.

§§§

‘I doubt anyone could recognise me if they tried,’ huffed Draco, brushing off the soot from his clothes. Ginny cleaned his face and ruffled his hair, which he tried to fix again a moment later, making it look even worse. She tossed him the hat that he had to wear as part of his disguise. Draco was still cleaning his clothes and muttering about how much he hated Floo powder when Tom, the innkeeper, appeared behind the bar and shot them a curious glance.

‘Oh, I thought that I heard voices over here,’ he said. ‘Let’s see...good morning, Miss Weasley. Who’s your comp—?’ Tom's cheerful greeting died in his throat when Draco glared at him. The innkeeper froze, eyes wide; reaching nervously for his handkerchief in his pocket, he wiped off the sweat from his forehead before opening the side door of the bar and approaching them.

‘Merlin’s beard...I thought you were dead, or kissed by a Dementor,’ he muttered when he gained back some composure.

‘Sorry to disappoint you,’ said Draco. His face showed nothing but confidence, but his heart was thudding in his chest. So people could still recognise him, even dressed like that. Damn. ‘If it makes you feel better though, you were nearly right.’

‘Young man, I can’t say that I liked your father. However, you’re not your father, Mr Malfoy, are you?’ As he said that, Draco’s eyes blazed with anger and this scared Tom to death; his face blanched. ‘Oh...er...I’m sorry, Mr Malfoy...I...didn’t mean to offend,’ the man stammered. Ginny put a hand on Tom's shoulder and shushed him quietly.

‘We don’t want anyone to notice us. You know that he’s wanted by the Ministry, so...can you please let us go and say nothing more? We’re in a bit of a hurry.’ She stared at the old innkeeper very seriously as she said these words and her lips stretched in a small grin when Tom picked up his handkerchief again and wiped at the sweat drops that were forming on his forehead. Just to make sure, she added, ‘Of course, Tom, you understand that...’

‘O-of course. Of course Miss Weasley. Of course, I-I came here at the back because...I saw a...mouse. Yes, I’m trying to kill that bloody mouse, yes!’ said Tom, trying to not look in Draco's direction as he grabbed a poker from the side of the fire. Draco sneered and put on his hat, sending Tom a glare that was too similar to Lucius's one for comfort, and caused the older wizard to stop breathing for a moment and pale considerably.

Then, Draco grabbed Ginny’s arm and walked straight to the door on the other side of the backroom. Ginny just had time to hide her hair under her hat and to shoot a disapproving look at him that they had already exited the inn and were in front of the wall. A few moments later, they were walking amongst the crowd of witches and wizards that filled Diagon Alley. Only then did Draco let go of her arm, and Ginny kept watching him with narrowed eyes, shocked by his behaviour.

‘Malfoy, why did you dash out like that?’ she asked; she hurried after him, not wanting to lose him in the crowd. All around them, children ran excitedly from one shop to another, giggling and marvelling about the window displays. One of them bumped into Ginny and caused her to stumble, so she had to quicken her pace to catch up with Draco again.

‘If I hadn’t done that, you would’ve stayed there all day chatting with that git. And stop calling me Malfoy, it’s dangerous!’ Draco glared at yet another boy who was sticking his tongue out at them from across the road.

‘What should I call you then? And where are you going at this speed?’ she asked, already out of breath. She was doing her best to keep up with his pace, but she couldn’t match this speed for long and she didn’t want anybody to pay even further attention to them.

‘Call me Dray. And of course, I'm going to Gringotts! Where else?’ He suddenly stopped after saying that and spun around stopping Ginny in her tracks. ‘I warn you, Weasley, you’ve got permission to call me by that name only on this occasion.’

‘Fine. Call me Ginny then. Only on this occasion.’ She glared back at him, her arms folded across her chest. ‘And will you go slower, Mal...er, Dray.’

‘Okay, okay.’ He resumed his walk but lowered his pace. A few minutes later they were in front of the tall, crooked building that had been used as the Wizard’s bank for centuries.

They climbed up the stairs and opened the large gate, crossing the black and white marble floors, as covered in dust as usual. Draco paced the hall in a haste, as a few goblins stopped to avoid bumping into the two newcomers.

Only then, Draco allowed himself to take a sigh of relief and lull himself briefly in the wonderful feeling of finally being at home. As much as the Wizarding World would change from time to time, Gringotts never did. You could breathe a different, ancient air in that enormous hall.

They approached a goblin who was busy counting money. Reluctantly, the creature tore his sight away from the glittering gold and blinked at them, as Draco cleared his throat.

‘Good Morning. How may I help you?’ he asked with an oily tone, rubbing his long and spidery fingers together.

‘I want to take some money out of vault five hundred and thirty,’ Draco whispered, staring around suspiciously. He took a key out his pocket—he had retrieved it that morning from his old Muggle clothes. The goblin inspected it carefully, then he stared once again at the wizard and at his companion.

‘Everything seems to be in order. I shall have someone take you two to the vault. Dokidook!’ he called, addressing another goblin who was standing nearby. He then instructed Dokidook to take them to vault five hundred and thirty. The new goblin bowed respectfully and beckoned Draco and Ginny to follow him to a trolley.

They descended to the dungeons of the bank and, when they arrived in front of the right vault, the trolley stopped. The goblin let them get out and took his time to open the door.

When they finally entered the vault, Ginny’s eyes widened. It was the largest vault she'd ever seen. Even bigger than Harry's, and she'd thought that one was massive when she'd seen it. But Malfoy's…wow. It contained thousands, no, make that millions of gold and silver pieces that had been meticulously stacked in neat piles. And that wasn’t all. Surrounding the mountains of gold were paintings, frames, a massive gold candelabra, ancient and important documents and jewels of varying sizes.

The young woman tried not to show her astonishment, but it wasn’t an easy task; her entire family could’ve lived for generations on only a fraction of what the vault contained. Draco had clearly noticed her shock—he sneered at her as he filled his pockets. The blond wizard also approached some odd looking objects in the room and carefully chose three things, which he put into the pocket of his cloak.

‘Fine. We can go now,’ he said to the goblin, who showed them the exit. When the goblin closed the door, it immediately gave the key back to Draco, before stepping into the trolley again.

‘Malfoy, what are those things that you took from the vault?’ asked Ginny.

‘It’s none of your business, Weas—er, Ginny.’

When they came out of the dungeons, they quickly made their way out of the bank.

‘Good. Now, step n 2 on my list,’ Draco muttered, starting once again to walk much too quickly. Ginny had to remind him that she couldn’t walk that fast; he sighed and slowed down a bit.

But, suddenly, Ginny’s heart sank as someone grabbed her shoulder. She turned around to see who it was and she met the gaze of Cornelius Fudge. She felt the blood drain from her face.

‘I thought I heard your voice, Miss Weasley. Or should I say...Mrs. Potter?’ the Minister asked as his face moved into the grimace that he used when he wanted to appear cheerful. In reality, Ginny mused, it made him look like a smirking pig.

‘Miss Weasley, thank you very much,’ she replied, cooler than ever. She had been Harry’s girlfriend for two years now, but she absolutely hated it when people assumed things like that.

‘I see. Why are you here with a stranger?’ the Minister asked, gazing at Draco with interest. Ginny breathed a sigh of relief—Fudge hadn’t recognised Draco. She tried to think of a plausible answer while Draco was still, a few steps in front of her, attentively observing the contents of a shop window.

‘N-no... I’m just... to be honest... I...’ she stammered, her heart thumping madly in her chest. If Fudge suspected anything, not only Malfoy would be sent directly to Azkaban; they would all be in serious trouble for having assisted a wanted criminal.

‘She was waiting for me,’ said a male voice from behind her, allowing Ginny’s heart to calm down a bit. Glad to see Remus Lupin’s familiar face, Ginny gave him a brilliant smile. ‘Please, Miss Weasley. If you keep smiling at me like that, I’ll start envying Harry Potter!’ They both giggled. Fudge stared at them suspiciously.

‘I thought...’ he said, eyeing Draco who kept staring at the window, pretending to lack interest.

‘Who, Mr Fudge? T-that man? Oh, I o-only asked him for the time...’ she said, and finally the Minister seemed to believe her.

‘Well, have a nice day, Miss Weasley. Give my respects to Mr Potter. Lupin, I’ll see you at the Ministry,’ he said. He waved to her politely, nodded to Lupin and left. Even after that, he continued to stare at Draco until he disappeared into the white walls of Gringotts. They all gave a sigh of relief.

‘What on earth were you thinking? Going for a walk in Diagon Alley! Thank Merlin, Harry sent me Hedwig with a message to ask me to keep an eye on you two, it could’ve ended up worse!’ hissed Lupin as he followed them down the street.

‘I wanted to go alone. I told Potter it wasn’t a good idea to come here with her, but he insisted,’ Draco replied, still shaken. Cornelius Fudge was the most pompous, nosy and foolish wizard he knew; definitely the last person he wanted to meet right now.

And not only for the most obvious reason.

Until Lucius pleased him with huge donations to the Ministry of Magic, Fudge had been his best friend. But the second the Minister got the chance to ruin Lucius, he immediately took it. The first time, when he had sent his father to Azkaban at the end of their fifth year at Hogwarts, Lucius had succeeded in gaining his trust back with money. The second time, however, no price would’ve been high enough to save his life. In a way, Draco didn't blame Cornelius.

‘You shouldn’t have come here, Malfoy. You’re wanted,’ said Lupin, breaking the thread of his thoughts.

Draco looked at his former Professor and then walked straight to Madam Malkin’s shop. He eyed the window and decided that he ought to buy two of the robes that were shown there. It was useless to order new robes, as he couldn’t come back—Madam Malkin would call the Aurors before he’d return. No, he would have to take what was already available and be happy with it. The green robe wasn’t that bad and neither was the black one.

‘I needed some decent clothes, I'm sick of wearing maroon, Lupin. Now, please, let me buy my stuff before Fudge changes his mind,’ Draco drawled. He shot him a dry look and went into the shop, followed by Ginny.

Immediately, a short and friendly witch came closer, striding towards them. Then, she caught sight of their clothes, she glanced briefly at Ginny’s hair and her smile died on her lips.

‘Good Morning, sir and madam. Er... if you’re looking for the second-hand shop you’re in the wrong place. You go out and head towards Gringotts, then—’ she started.

Ginny blushed to the roots of her hair. But nobody could blame Madam Malkin; the Weasleys never or rarely came into her shop. Madam Malkin’s robes were amazing... but her prices were even more so.

‘I’m not in the wrong place,’ was Draco’s curt reply. He glared at Madam Malkin aristocratically and pulled his hat off.

The witch paled.

‘M-Mr Malfoy... Merlin... I thought you were dead,’ she muttered. Then she sat on a chair next to her and fanned her face until it returned to its normal colour.

‘Yes, you and the rest of the Wizarding world,’ he replied, colder than before. The old witch stood and rubbed her hands, coming closer to him.

‘I-I’m sorry for the terrible mistake. B-but I-I’m not used to—’ she stammered, blushing. Draco approached one of the windows and beckoned for her to stop talking.

‘Please, don’t waste my time. I want to try on those two robes, the green one and the black one.’

‘But Mr Malfoy! I’d never allow you to wear clothes that weren't made exactly for your size! I...’

‘I will repeat it one more time, and slowly. DO-NOT-WASTE-MY-TIME. You know well I can’t come back.’ Draco’s glare would’ve melted an iceberg.

Madam Malkin recoiled slightly. Then she breathed deeply and began taking down the robes from the window display for him to try on.

In the end, it turned out that they were too long for him, but Madam Malkin told him that her assistant would fix them while he was still there. Draco allowed it, but he forced the girl to work where he could see her, and to hurry up. Waiting for it, he bought various clothes to wear under his robes, including some black jumpers. He didn’t want Madam Malkin to leave the shop either—he couldn’t take the risk that she might call the Aurors.

In the meantime, Ginny pretended to have come into the shop to look for a present for Ron, and she asked the prices of the hats. When she saw that Draco had almost finished his purchases she pretended she wanted to leave. Draco played along, and forced her to stay in the shop until he left, hoping that Madam Malkin would fall for their acting.

The shopkeeper requested that a badge with the Malfoy crest was sewn onto his new cloak. Draco agreed, but only if the cloak could be made to be double-faced, so that he could wear it on the other side for now.

When he'd finally changed his clothes and was ready to go, he waved goodbye to Madam Malkin and stepped out of the shop wearing his new hat to hide his face. The witch bowed at him profusely, which annoyed him, because she didn't show the same respect for Ginny. His insides jolted when he noticed the way that the older witch had completely dismissed the red-haired witch. Since when did he care about the feelings of a Weasley?

‘Where are you going now?’ asked Lupin, breaking Draco's thread of thought for the second time that day. Ginny seemed happy to be out of the shop and Draco couldn't blame her.

‘I have to pay a visit to Ollivander’s to clean up my wand. Then I’m going to go to the Eeylops Owl Emporium to buy some food for Hedwig. D’you want to come with us, Remus?’ asked Ginny, smiling at her former Professor.

‘I’m afraid not, unfortunately. I have to go,’ said Lupin. His gaze was following someone who disappeared into the distance. ‘Please try and not get yourselves into any more trouble, okay?’ He watched them leave before he briskly set off in the opposite direction.

They were almost opposite Gringotts, when Draco suddenly grabbed hold of Ginny’s arm and dragged her down a dark alley on the left. She was about to ask what the hell was going on, when she bumped into a witch with a hooked nose and greasy hair who gave Ginny an evil sneer. She barely choked a scream.

To be Continued…

§§§.

Chapter 6: Draco’s New Room

§§§.

‘Where are you going, my child?’ The witch asked, grinning.

Ginny could see her teeth, yellow and spotted with black, under her crooked nose. She turned in Draco’s direction to see him staring around, without paying any attention to her. After a few seconds, two more witches and four wizards surrounded her, all of whom weren’t a pretty sight to behold.

‘Baby, wha’ d’yeh think ‘bout going fer a ride?’

‘Did yeh get lost?’

‘D’yeh wan’ us ter help yeh fin’ yer way back?’ they asked, smiling at her with false sweetness.

She fought not to start panicking; even if the effort of biting back the scream she wanted to let out was physically hurting her throat. She stammered some words of apology, feeling the sweat trickle down her neck.

‘Ginny, let’s go,’ said Draco, holding her arm and glaring at the people nearby with a look of disgust. When the group saw him, their eyes widened and they moved away, bowing and creating a path for the two to leave. Ginny didn’t understand why, until she shot Draco a glance—he wore his cloak the other way around, and now the crest of the Malfoys stood out, bold, on his chest.

‘This is one of the rare places where my name still commands some respect,’ he said, noticing the direction of her gaze.

‘Where are we?’ asked Ginny, looking around suspiciously. They were walking through a dirty alleyway and were just passing in front of a shop which showed, inside its windows, a large collection of tarantulas and other frightening arachnids. Ginny shuddered, glad that Ron wasn’t here to see it. She didn’t like spiders either, but her brother was second to no one in his fear of them.

‘Knockturn Alley,’ replied Draco, quickening his pace. Ginny tried her best to stay close to him—she didn’t have any intention to lose sight of him.

‘What are we doing in a place with such a bad reputation?’

‘You’ll see it shortly; we’re there. What d’you want to do, stay outside or come in?’ Draco drawled, an amused grin spreading all over his face. The shop in front of them was called Borgin & Burkes; inside it, Ginny could see various objects, none of which she was very pleased to see. But the crowd around her was much worse… so she followed Draco inside.

The place was exactly as Draco remembered. As always, there were poisons, dark and prohibited artefacts, and stuff that no other shopkeeper would’ve wanted even close to their shop. There were skulls, human bones, strange amphorae full of eyes and precious stones, and other stuff coming from many countries. A lot more was hidden in the shadows, but even what was under the light, Ginny was deeply aghast to see. Draco smirked at her disgusted frown and approached the counter, ringing a small brass bell. Ginny jerked at the sound.

‘Don’t touch anything,’ Draco hissed when somebody from the back of the shop muttered that he was coming. Ginny sent Draco a disgusted look, which meant that she would never touch any of this stuff, even if he'd forced her to.

‘Let’s see… who do we have here… oh! Young Master Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again. Of course, I never trusted the stories in the newspapers about you… disgraceful stories, indeed—’

From the back of the shop appeared an old man, with oily black hair, peppered with grey. He walked a little crooked, and rubbed his hands as he observed his new customers, a ghastly look spreading across his face. Ginny found the way he drawled his words quite annoying, as he pretended servile flattery which he appeared to not feel.

‘Which one d’you mean? The one about my death or the one about my soul being eaten by a Dementor?’ snapped Draco, dryly. Ginny watched him as he talked with Mr Borgin, and noticed that Draco was acting differently. Maybe he was, unconsciously or willingly, playing Lucius’ role, mimicking his father's ways.

‘Exactly, Master Malfoy. But I can see with pleasure that, as I’ve supposed, they were only stories. How may I be of assistance?’

The man emphasised the word "pleasure" in a way that disgusted Ginny. She wanted to leave this shop as soon as possible. Still, she couldn’t leave by herself—she needed Draco because she was much too frightened of the crowd. So, she forced herself to stay.

‘I’m not buying, but selling, Mr Borgin. These.’ Draco took, from the pocket of his robe, the three objects that Ginny had seen him withdraw from the vault at Gringotts. The man’s face lost all of his servile flattery at Draco’s words, but when he saw what the younger wizard put into his hands, his eyes glimmered in joy.

‘Oh… what a magnificent offer, Master Malfoy. Your father never brought to me items of this sort. He sold me quite impressive objects, though… and he also bought many.’

‘How much d’you reckon these would be worth?’ asked Draco casually. He didn’t really want to sell his mother’s earrings and favourite ring. He knew that they were very precious, and he’d never sell them to anybody. However, he did need something to divert Mr Borgin’s attention.

‘They are priceless; extremely ancient and made with gold. And… look at those enchanted stones…’ the man said, almost awed. Then he eyed Draco, held the jewels at arm's length and inspected them with his small mirrored glasses. After a moment's scrutiny, he continued, ‘I cannot buy them, I know that your father would never allow them to be sold. However, Master Malfoy… I have a few things you may be interested in buying, at a very reasonable price—’

The man took from under his counter a tray—it clearly contained poisons, it was obvious by the stamp across the top of it. Mr Borgin opened it in front of Draco, who gazed at the content feigning interest. He knew that the old wizard didn’t want to buy the objects because they were too dangerous to be kept. His reluctance was surely not from some sort of “respect” for his father. What a tosser, Draco thought.

‘I think I’ll buy this datura’s essence,’ he said while staring at the various bottles. Ginny gasped hearing Draco’s words. What use could he have for datura’s essence? ‘Uh...tell me, Mr Borgin …you are a man who knows a vast deal about magical artefacts, would you happen to know anything about the Green Torch?’ asked Draco, casually checking the content of another bottle. Mr Borgin’s eyes widened and he stared at the younger wizard, his face aghast.

‘The Green Torch… I’d love to put my hands on it, Master Malfoy. It’s yet another priceless object, like the jewels you showed me before. The only thing that can destroy the Dark Lord.’

‘Yes, Potter used it with that intention. But it didn’t work; he returned, after all. So… how can a useless object…be priceless?’ retorted Draco. The man stared at him in amazement; then, his face came closer to Draco’s as he hissed back,

‘Harry Potter didn’t use the true Green Torch, Master Malfoy. The true Torch is the priceless object, not its copies. Copies only have a—ah—temporary effect.’ His face turned ashen as he said that. Ginny tried to hear what he was muttering, but he talked in such a slow and low monotone that it was hard for her to understand. Draco was the only person who could hear what the man had said, but he didn’t react at all.

‘Precisely what I wanted to know. So, is there a way of finding it, or of buying it?’ Draco asked. He stretched his fingers and joined his fingertips tapping them together, and stared at Mr Borgin with interest. ‘You know, my father loved this kind of stuff, he had a large collection of objects that the Dark Lord had owned. I’d love to complete his collection with this Torch, so that it won’t be found by—ah—unworthy people, if you understand what I mean.’ He kept staring at the man as he spoke. Mr Borgin froze.

‘If I owned that object, or if I knew where to find it, I wouldn’t be here, Master Malfoy.’ He continued in hushed tones, careful not to let Ginny overhear, ‘I would’ve brought the Green Torch to the Dark Lord myself and be honoured as the one who gave him immortal life. Nobody can find the Green Torch, Master Malfoy, not even yourself.’

‘That’s exactly the reason why I want it. Thank you for the information, how much is the datura’s essence?’ Draco’s eyes looked down to observe the small bottle he was handling. He paid the two galleons and fifteen sickles Mr Borgin requested and then left the shop, beckoning Ginny to follow. As they moved out of Mr Borgin’s sight, Draco again took hold of Ginny’s arm and forced her to stay close to him while they left Knockturn Alley.

‘Thank you, Malfoy,’ she said, waiting for him to turn his cloak to the other side.

‘Thank you for what?’ he asked, feigning surprise.

‘You know what. Thank you for helping us; only you could’ve asked him that without raising his suspicions. What did he say?’

Draco sent her an inscrutable look as he put his hat back on his head.

‘Nothing interesting. He said that Potter didn’t use the true Green Torch. I wanted him to say more, ’ he admitted, walking straight to Ollivander’s.

‘I'd never thought that you’d really help us,’ she said.

Draco held her arm tightly, forcing her to turn in his direction and look at him. Ginny’s heart sank—she didn't think he'd react with such anger. ‘Potter—saved—my—bloody—life, Ginny.’ He stared at her for a long moment with the most serious look she'd ever seen on his face. Then he let go of her and walked away.

Ginny remained silent until they came to Ollivander’s, musing about what Draco had just said. I didn’t really trust him. When I saw him lying on the sofa I thought Harry made a big mistake. But… I’m starting to believe I was wrong, she thought as she opened the shop’s door. A small bell rang, and a pair of shining eyes stared at her, from behind the counter.

‘Ah! Miss Weasley, it's been a long time since I last saw you. Besides… if I’m not wrong, this is Mr Malfoy. Seems like the stories I’ve heard about you were false.’ The old wizard gave them both a nod, waiting for them to approach. ‘How may I help you?’

‘I need to clean my wand. I’ve waited too long, I know. But I didn’t have a chance to come here earlier, Mr Ollivander.’ The man nodded, and Ginny continued, ‘So I had to wait. But today I had other errands.’ She took her wand out of her robe pocket and handed it to the wizard.

Ollivander scanned the thin wood with critical eyes, checking all the details for a long moment. After what felt like an eternity of staring at it, he shot Ginny a disappointed look.

‘Miss Weasley,’ he muttered abruptly, ‘your wand is so dirty that it’s in danger of being mistaken for a burnt twig. You should've come here a long time ago.’ He sighed. ‘What a pity; such a beautiful wand. Yew, eleven inches, the core of a dragon heartstring. I remember having made it as if it were yesterday. A wonderful wand, with such a strong core, perfect for Charms. And you reduce it in such a state!’

The man kept staring at the wand, a sad expression on his face. His voice was hoarse with suffering and he shook his head as if he were speaking about a disgrace that happened to one of his children. Hearing what he said, Draco tried to hide and started staring in the opposite direction. If Ginny’s wand needed to be cleaned, Merlin, what would be said of his? No, he decided, he was never going to show his wand to Ollivander.

‘Please, forgive me, Mr Ollivander—’ Ginny said, her ears turning pink as she lowered her head in shame.

‘Don’t look at me like that, Miss Weasley. A person like yourself, who lives close to Harry Potter, should take better care of her magical objects. What if a Death Eater attacked you, and your wand was too clogged with dirt to function properly? And… as for you, Mr Malfoy…’ Draco gasped when the man said his name. When he looked back at the older wizard, Ollivander was glaring at him with his bright eyes, as if he looked into the deepest end of his soul and had only found something horrible and disgusting. Draco gulped. ‘Please don’t hide like that, I can see you. Give me your wand. Since you’re here, I’ll clean it up as well.’ The man held out his hand to Draco, imperiously beckoning for his wand.

‘There’s no need, really, Mr Ollivander—’ he tried to say, but the old wizard sent him such an icy glare that Draco cringed. His heart bled when his hand reached into his pocket, knowing exactly what the old wizard would say after having a look at his wand.

When Ollivander finally put his hands on the thin wood, the pain that his eyes showed would’ve made a criminal cry. He stared at the wand, his glasses pushed up on his nose, moving it in his hands and sighing many times, as he examined it. He continued studying it for various minutes and then he glared, once again, at Draco.

‘I’d never have expected this, Mr Malfoy. I understand that, in your situation, it’s not easy to come here. I understand that it may have cost you dearly, that you could've been captured. However… I never, ever saw, in my entire life, a wand made of hawthorn wood turning completely and utterly B-L-A-C-K!’ He spat out that “black” as if he were talking about a homicide, his face turning purple for the effort as his gaze locked with Draco's.

Draco closed his eyes and gasped, trying to hide his face behind his hands, as if Ollivander had hit him; he felt blood rush to his face, as he noticed the way Ginny was staring at him. He lowered his eyes.

‘Euh…I…but…’ he muttered. For once, he didn’t know what to say.

‘No buts! In your situation, you should’ve taken more care of your only weapon, Mr Malfoy! Your wand is so filthy that I wouldn’t be surprised if it just stopped working altogether! Tell me, what would you have done if you were in danger and your wand wouldn’t work? BE ASHAMED!’ He slammed a hand on his counter, to emphasise his last words, and again he glared at Draco with his deadly bright eyes.

Draco didn’t need him to point out anything, though—he never had been so humiliated in his whole life. Not even when Potter saved his skin a few days ago.

Ollivander sent him yet another curt look, and then he went to the back of the shop, to give the wands to his assistants. When he returned, a few minutes later, he hadn’t lost his rigorous frown, which he was still bestowing upon Draco. After glaring at him a little more, he turned to the young witch next to him and his face gained a more pleasant outlook.

‘Miss Weasley, please return in an hour and a half, your wand should be ready by then.’ He rubbed his hands, trying to make Ginny feel more comfortable. Then, he turned again to Draco, and his gaze changed instantly into a glare.

‘As for you, Mr Malfoy; your wand will be ready in two days,’ he hissed. Draco’s eyes widened at the amount of time it would take, his pale face turning even paler as the old man continued, ‘And I won’t accept any complaint! My assistants will need to work hard to bring it back to decency. It’s nothing you can fix in a few minutes!’

When Ollivander went back to the back of the shop, Draco was shaking in rage and mortification, clenching his fists and glaring with hatred at the door that the old wizard just disappeared through.

§§

Their trip back home was silent and tense. Draco still couldn’t talk, after the incident at Olivanders; Ginny didn’t know what to say—sometimes not saying anything is better than putting your foot in it. Therefore she kept quiet.

Then, a small girl had the bright idea of bumping into Draco, while mimicking a spell with a friend. Draco pushed her away harshly and she fell to the ground, starting to sniff as if she was about to cry. Ginny looked at Draco horrified; they didn’t need a crying child to draw people’s attention to them! Draco lost his temper; he approached the child and grabbed her jumper. He glared at her, frowning, his grey eyes filled with hatred. The child froze and stared back, scared to death.

‘Watch it,’ he hissed into the child’s ear. The small girl grew paler than before and some indistinguishable words, mixed with whimpers of pain. Draco stayed there, glaring at the child for a long moment until Ginny approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. But as Draco tossed her hand away and glared at her, Ginny stopped dead and the words she would’ve said died in her throat; his gaze was.…creepy.

Then, as suddenly as his fury had erupted, Draco calmed down. He let go of the child and, after giving her another icy glare, he turned to leave. The child stared at space for a while, her face still as pale as a sheet. Then she sat up, crawled momentarily, and then ran away. Ginny followed Draco, trying to not lose him.

‘What was all that? Why did you scare that child in the middle of Diagon Alley? We could’ve been recognised!’ she asked when she finally caught up. Draco kicked angrily at a cobblestone that happened to be in front of his right foot. Then he turned towards Ginny; his eyes sending daggers at her.

‘I didn’t do anything to that child. She bumped into me and brought that upon herself,’ he snapped.

Ginny rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘You’re not made of glass and the little girl didn’t bump into you on purpose! Did you have to scare her like that?’

Draco said nothing but quickened his pace until they arrived in front of the wall dividing Diagon Alley and the Leaky Cauldron. His hand went to his pocket, to take out his wand, but that pocket was empty. He clenched his fists and shook them with rage, his gaze continuing to harden. Ginny took out her wand and touched the stones with it, allowing them to leave.

It didn’t take a lot of time to get back to the fire, and even less to use the Floo powder and get back to the abandoned house which Remus had connected to the Floo Network for them this time—they always had to use a different house to avoid suspicions, and poor Remus had to change the fire connected to the Network every few days.

Once again, Ginny cleaned the soot from Draco’s face, and then she spent a bit of time cleaning herself, as the young man tossed the soot from his clothes.

‘Malfoy, really; your wand was a mess,’ she commented, as they walked through the streets of Muggle London, surrounded by the shadows of the evening. It was already evening… Time goes by quickly when you go shopping, Ginny thought.

Draco stopped dead and turned to look at her. She also stopped and drew backwards, somehow frightened that he would act the same way he did in Diagon Alley. But Draco resumed his walk almost immediately, without saying a word.

‘I know,’ he muttered finally when they arrived in front of the abandoned building that they called home. They looked around wearily and then opened the gate to sneak in.

*

There was big confusion in the hall and nobody paid any notice that they were back. According to the sound of the steps coming from inside before they opened the inner gate, someone was very busy walking up and down the corridor.

‘Oh, you’re back, finally,’ said Hermione. She stopped in front of them, carrying a basin filled with water. She put it on a piece of furniture, opening and closing her hands quickly to restart the blood circulation.

‘I have no time to explain. Remus is hurt,’ she said and then grabbed the basin again, and proceeded to walk to the room beside the kitchen. Draco and Ginny stared at the door where she had just disappeared, their eyes wide in shock.

‘He didn’t look hurt when we saw him—’ Draco muttered under his breath.

Ginny was the first one to come out of her state of shock; she walked into the kitchen, curious to know what had happened. Draco followed suit.

Lupin was laid down on the couch Draco had been sleeping on. He was bleeding copiously from a wound on his back, maybe inflicted with something blunt. What could’ve happened to him to reduce him in such a state in just a few hours?

‘Oh, you’re back. Good, we need help,’ said Sirius. He was working with his wand on Lupin’s back, trying to stop the blood flow; Hermione was busy preparing a Potion.

‘Is there any way I can help you?’ asked Ginny.

Draco stayed still. He didn’t know what to do; besides, Lupin was lying on his bed… and staining it with blood. This was somehow irritating.

‘Yes, thank you, Ginny. Come here and toss me that lamb,’ said Hermione, throwing into the cauldron what Draco recognized as flobberworm juice. Ginny hurried up to help Hermione, and the latter sent her a thankful glance, as she cut the meat Ginny just tossed to her into very small pieces. Then, she started to throw it into the cauldron, at a slow pace. Sweat trickled from her furrowed brows down to her temples and her cheeks. Ginny decided to help her mix the potion, which left Hermione with more room to concentrate on the meat.

‘What are you doing?’ drawled Draco.

Hermione didn’t even look at him. ‘I’m preparing the Wolfsbane’s Potion. You know, like the one Professor Snape prepared for Remus when he was at Hogwarts. Tomorrow’s the full moon,’ she retorted dryly, causing Draco’s blood to turn into ice.

‘We’re going to have a werewolf here on a full moon?’ he snapped. Hermione’s meat was finished and she cleaned her hands, addressing Draco with a piercing glare.

‘Oh well, look at us! We also have a Malfoy—’ Ron’s voice resounded behind their backs. The redhead approached Hermione and gave her a strange package. He seemed to be a bit out of breath and upset.

Draco glared at him. ‘Weasley, maybe it’s too hard to understand for the lot of you, but a werewolf is a dangerous creature,’ he hissed.

Ron didn’t even consider him worthy of a glance and approached Hermione. ‘The wolfsbane was difficult to find. It’s not normal to pick it during the day.’

‘Unfortunately we needed it that way. Not only picked during the day but also picked during the day of a new moon. Did you check that detail, Ron?’ she asked, frowning.

Ron nodded, so she turned to Draco, as Ginny mixed the liquid into the cauldron.

‘This is why I’m preparing the Potion, Malfoy. If Lupin doesn't drink it often tomorrow night, he won't be able to stay here,’ she said. Then, she focused her attention on her Potion, to decide how much wolfsbane she should’ve used.

‘Harry’s coming with the unicorn’s hair. We split to go faster,’ said Ron.

Hermione nodded, and a few moments later, Harry arrived carrying another package. Hermione waited a few minutes, staring at her watch pointedly. Then she added a few unicorn hairs to the Potion and sighed in relief. She wiped her forehead on her sleeve and kept mixing the Potion, now looking more relaxed.

‘What happened to him?’ asked Ginny now that the most important matter was over. Lupin’s wound had healed thanks to Sirius’ attempts and now the man was breathing normally.

Draco sat on a chair near the kitchen door.

‘I’ve fought with McNair; I followed him after leaving the two of you. But I didn’t expect him to come from behind and he got me.’ The man sat on the couch, his pale face steadily gaining colour. Hermione approached him, leaving the Potion boil for a while.

‘It will be ready in half an hour, Remus. Is this soon enough? Are we on time?’ A thin line knitted her brows, and she was wringing her hands almost frenetically. She looked nervous; perhaps Draco’s objection was something she was worried about as well.

‘Yes, I drank it already early this afternoon and I must drink it every six hours before the full moon. Don’t worry, if I ever thought that you were in danger, I’d leave immediately,’ he said, staring at Draco. Lupin didn’t look angry, just worried.

‘So, there’s just one small problem left. Malfoy, Remus must sleep here tonight and tomorrow,’ said Sirius, who was sitting next to Lupin, on the couch.

‘What’s the problem?’

‘We need this couch. After all, we were talking the other day, and we thought that, since you're staying, you should have your room.’

Draco felt a burst of happiness. His face brightened, but Sirius didn’t seem in the same mood.

‘A room? That’s ok. So, what is the problem?’

He would have his room, after all that time! His room, finally a bit of privacy. How did he miss it!

‘I must prepare the Potion for Remus, as he must drink it frequently tomorrow. It’s a new formula that he said is safer. The others must work in the library. So, since it’s your room, it’s you who will tidy it up,’ Hermione said.

Joy drained from Draco’s face. ‘But—’ he argued.

‘It’s just a simple charm. Malfoy, you were better than me at charms at Hogwarts, it should be easy for you. I was able to do it as well!’ snapped Ron, looking at him mockingly. Draco would’ve loved to punch him on that ugly face of his…or to hex him somehow. If only he'd had a wand.

‘Malfoy can’t perform charms today, nor tomorrow,’ said Ginny. Everybody stared at her in silence, the dull sound of the Potion boiling the only sound marking the slow passing of time.

‘Why?’ said Harry, asking for them all.

‘Ollivander took his wand to clean it,’ said Ginny. She noticed that Draco was glaring at her, and thought that he didn’t want her to tell the group about the way the old wizard had told him off. She grinned. ‘He has to go and pick it up in two days,’ she concluded.

Draco sighed in relief, and Ginny’s grin became brighter.

‘Wow… did you lose it in a swamp?’ joked Ron, evidently enjoying that for once he was the one using sarcasm while Malfoy was glaring at him.

‘Hold your tongue, Weasel,’ Draco retorted, dryly. Ron didn’t lose his sarcastic grin, though, and this pissed Draco off. After all, who would’ve been scared of him now? He didn’t have his wand, he was harmless! Damn that git Ollivander who wouldn’t give me a replacement wand! he thought.

‘If that's the case—’ said Lupin, trying to stand up, but failing miserably. Sirius stopped him and forced him to lie down again.

‘No, Remus. You won’t go. Even if I fixed your wound, you ought to stay still if you want to heal. You won’t move from this sofa.’ Sirius looked at him worriedly, then stood and said, as he left, ‘I’ve got to wash my hands.’

Lupin sighed, but followed Sirius’s suggestion; he turned his back to the others and tried to get some sleep.

‘Well, to be completely honest I don't see where the problem lies.’ Hermione walked straight to a corner of the room. She beckoned Draco to come closer, as she looked for something in a built-in closet. ‘Come here, Malfoy—’

Draco snorted and stood from his chair, still annoyed by the situation. As he drew near her, Hermione emerged from the closet, smiling triumphantly, and put into his hands a mutton chop and a cloth. Then she took a pail and rested it just in front of Draco’s feet.

Draco stared at her in bewilderment. He…couldn't even get angry because of how shocked he was. He blinked two or three times and kept staring into space, silently.

‘A bit of manual labour has never hurt anyone, Malfoy. Come on, it won't take you long to make your room presentable. You can always finish setting it up when you have your wand back.’

Ron barely suppressed a laugh; Harry had such an idiotic smile stamped on his face that Draco would’ve loved to kick him in the arse until he lost it. Hermione folded her arms across her chest and glared at him. Not counting Lupin, who was lying down on the couch with his back to Draco, Ginny was the only person who wasn't looking at him.

‘Wh-which room will be his?’ Ginny asked, trying to change the subject.

‘The empty one on the first floor, near the laundry room. We decided this today, while you were out. It’s the one in the best shape, after all. It’s easier to clean up,’ said Harry, finally dropping the idiotic expression on his face.

‘Wait a minute, I don’t think I quite understand. You're saying that I, Draco Malfoy, should lower myself to do servant chores? Are you insane, or were you all dropped on your heads as babies?’ he spat out, still not trusting his ears. He glared for a while at the dusting cloths Hermione had handed him.

‘Oh shut up, Malfoy. Follow me,’ retorted Hermione, her hands rubbing her temples in a gesture of pure exasperation. She nodded to Ginny, silently asking her to keep mixing the potion, and then left, walking straight to the steps to go upstairs. Draco didn't move; he kept staring at the space in front of him, holding in his right hand the mutton chop and on the left one the cloths.

‘MALFOY! Hurry up and come with me!’ Hermione shouted from upstairs.

He roared something that sounded like “I’m not your dog!” and stomped his foot, glaring at the door.

‘I’M COMING!’ he shouted, dragging his feet as he walked away. When he got to the door, though, he once again heard Hermione’s voice.

‘Don’t forget the pail, please!’ she called, causing yet another roar of exasperation. Draco turned around, furious, and grabbed the pail. Then he finally walked out of the room and strode quickly to the stairs.

*

Harry and Ron controlled themselves until they heard his footsteps going upstairs, then they burst into laughter. Malfoy taking orders from Hermione was probably the funniest thing they’d seen since the bouncing ferret scene in their fourth year.

‘It’s not nice to laugh at other people’s distress,’ scolded Lupin. This shut them up, but they kept looking at each other, their amusement evident in the way their lips pursed and in the number of times they had to choke a chuckle. They are still no more than children, mused Lupin, half-asleep.

*

Draco reached the first floor, still fuming, and approached Hermione who waited for him in front of a door. He glared at her and tossed the pail, abruptly, onto the floor, throwing the cloths into it with all his strength. He kept glaring at Hermione, but she paid little attention to it.

‘I know you’re not happy about this, Malfoy. It’s annoying, and you’re right. However, we cannot waste our time helping you. Come on, a few hours of labour never killed anyone,’ she said, trying somehow to console him.

Draco’s glare hardened, if possible. ‘What if I refuse to do it?’ he asked.

But Hermione didn’t move, her arms still folded over her chest, her gaze still locked with his, her right foot still tapping on the floor.

‘You can always sleep on the ground, it’s not our problem,’ she retorted, causing Draco’s face to grow paler than ever.

‘I’m a Malfoy. Malfoys don’t ever lower themselves to do manual labour!’ he spat, slamming the mutton chop to the floor. He stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at her.

‘Malfoys have two arms and two legs, like any other person in the world, I daresay,’ she replied, and eyed him from tip to toe as she spoke. ‘It's time you got off your high horse and faced the real world.’

She held her wand and said a charm to fill the pail with a mixture of water and soap. She then unlocked the door and let it fall open as she walked away. ‘Good luck,’ she added, knowing full well he would need it.

Draco’s eyes widened in shock and his stomach lurched as he had a first peek inside the place that would become his bedroom. Merlin! That wasn't a room—it was a minefield.

To be Continued…

.

§§§.

Chapter 7: A Stolen Kiss

§§§.

Draco wiped his forehead on his sleeve and sat on his bed. He'd spent the last hour shut in that room, cursing himself and working his arse off. He didn't know how to clean a room—he had never had to do such a thing in his whole life. Guessing he might as well get started, he had picked up some of the objects that were lying on the floor and had dusted them, piling them up in high heaps all over the room. He had also washed the floor; he knew how to do that, after all, he had often been forced to do it without magic when he had been given detention at Hogwarts.

Without magic… how could he have been that dumb? He thought about how much easier it would've been to clean the room using his wand. He could've fixed it in a few minutes, and it would've been perfect. Instead, he had been forced to clean it by hand; it wasn't a big deal, after all, it was just cleaning a room; it hurt only his pride. But…what would've happened to him if his wand hadn’t worked during a fight? He had already stared death in the face, he didn't want another look, thank you very much.

Of course, Ollivander was right. Draco sighed at the realisation. You only understand how important things are to you when they’re gone, he thought, longingly. He stared at London's sky through the window and noticed that the first stars had appeared between the gold and indigo shades of the sunset. Damn, he would have to pick up the pace; he didn't want to sleep on the floor, as Hermione had kindly suggested.

He was standing up to resume his work, when the door opened and Hermione came into the room, carrying a tray in her hands.

'Were you having a rest, Malfoy?' she asked. He nodded, as she glanced around, approaching the bed. 'I brought your dinner. Eat it before it gets cold.' She put the tray onto his bed and had a better look at the room. She shook her head.

Draco started to eat his dinner and watched as Hermione continued walking around the piles of stuff he had built up in various points of the room.

'What's wrong, Granger?' he asked, swallowing some food. He didn't like the way that she walked through his room as if she was judging his work… and finding it unsatisfactory.

'Nothing. Just… it's obvious that you've never tidied anything up before,' she said as she finished her inspection.

Draco choked mid-swallow as the food that he had been eating went down the wrong way, and he had to cough several times and gulp two glasses of water before he felt better. He then stared at her in amazement.

'What d'you mean?' he drawled, still coughing slightly.

'I can see what you were planning to do by building those piles of stuff, but it's not the best way of tidying up.' The young witch approached one of the piles and started to scan its contents. 'The boxes should've been placed together, and so should the papers, and the objects of different sizes. Then you should’ve put all the larger things which needed to be repaired by magic in another pile. The way you’ve done it just isn’t very well organised.'

While he was eating, Hermione started to move the stuff from the piles that he had built and created new piles using her logic. After a few minutes, the room was filled with new heaps of well-organised stuff, replacing the ones that had taken him hours to form. Then, Hermione took a box and started to fill it with papers and thin stuff.

'Since you've finished eating, you may as well come here and help me, instead of staring at me like an idiot,' she snapped, glaring at him.

Draco immediately stood up and walked over to where she was sitting. It wasn’t until he had knelt beside her and had begun to sort some papers into another pile that he realised that he had obeyed her orders without batting an eyelash. He stopped and angrily muttered something under his breath.

She smiled. 'You know, Malfoy. Today you've truly impressed me. You should be proud, it's not an easy task for someone like you,' she said, taking some papers that he passed to her, and putting them in the box.

Draco noted that she was trying to use as little space as possible.

'I don't understand,' he admitted. He truly hadn't understood—how could he possibly have impressed her today?

'Ginny told us what you did. I never thought that you'd really help us,' she replied, beckoning him to toss her some papers further away.

Draco stood and picked up what she had asked him to give her. Hermione became very busy trying to add more papers to the box than it could possibly hold; she appeared to be concentrating very hard.

'If that’s the case, then there's something that just doesn’t make sense to me,' he said.

Hermione stopped what she was doing and turned to face him. 'What?' she asked. She gave up the hope of fitting the large bundle into such a small box and simply used her wand to enlarge the box, with ease that Draco envied.

'Why did you bother making me swear not to break your rules? Since you obviously still don’t trust me; what was the point?' he asked, picking up the remaining pile of papers and passing them to her.

Hermione gazed at him for a moment, stunned; she took the papers and slipped them into the box automatically, with her wand.

'Well, in truth… it's hard to trust you. It’s your fault, you know.'

'I don’t regret anything,' he retorted, sneering at her. 'I'm not trying to follow your rules or help you because I'm seeking "redemption" or anything stupid like that. It's just that…I have a life debt with Potter.' His face turned pink; and with you as well, he thought.

'Good to know,' she replied. Then, she stood up and took a new box.

They stayed there tidying together for an hour and a half and, slowly, the room began to look fit for a human living in it. The bigger objects and the broken beams were fixed by Hermione's wand. Then, she freshened up the bed in the same way and found some blankets, and a duvet, which she left on the mattress.

'I reckon you can continue by yourself,' she said. She picked up the tray and walked through the door.

'Why did you do that?' he asked.

She turned to stare at him for a long moment. 'I don't know,' she murmured and left, closing the door behind her.

Draco approached his bed. He knew perfectly well that he should make it first, but he couldn't resist and sank onto the mattress. He had never been this tired in his whole life. Only five minutes, he thought as he moved into a more comfortable position.

*Dream Sequence Flashback*

'Good Morning, Mr Malfoy. How may I help you?' A girl with brown hair and dark eyes smiled and stared at him from under her glasses.

Draco observed her, doubtfully. She was Marion Winterman, Fudge's new secretary. He had met her before and he'd always thought of her as a dull person; shy and obliging, but totally inefficient. He hoped that she wouldn't waste his precious time: he was there to collect a few documents that his father needed, but he had a lot of other things to do.

Ever since he'd left Hogwarts, Lucius seemed to think Draco’s purpose in life was to run boring errands for him. Of course, he had his reasons; Draco hadn’t got all the N.E.W.T.s that his father had expected him to. However, he'd hoped for more consideration.

'I’m here to collect those papers, Miss Winterman. You know which ones,' he said, a frown furrowing his blond brows. She smiled at him and ran to her desk, starting to look through various folders that were piled there, in what he hoped was some sort of order.

'Yes, of course. Here, they should be here… why aren't they where I put them? Damn it! I’m sure that I put them here! I'm ready to—' she stammered as she rummaged through the papers.

She blushed to the roots of her hair as she accidentally tipped over an open ink bottle that was on her desk. Quickly, she righted the bottle and attempted to block the spill from spreading while she tried to move the nearby papers without pushing them off the desk.

This was what really pissed him off. Her. She was disorganised and incompetent; she always took hours to find what people asked her for. She seemed to live with her head in the clouds. How many times had he asked her to find some papers by a certain day and she had only just begun to look for them when she had seen a glimpse of his face entering the office? How many memos had he sent her to remind her about her duties… always later finding them lying untouched on her table, as if she hadn’t even bothered to open them? How many times had she said that she had just forgotten? HOW COULD SHE JUST FORGET? It was her bloody job, damn! How the hell could she forget about it? Sometimes he had been forced to wait for her for over ten minutes because she was late. Why didn't Fudge just get rid of her?

Suddenly, a big volume which had been lying on a corner of the table fell to the floor with a loud crash. Marion gasped in shock.

'Oh! Here they are—' she said, cleaning the sweat from her forehead. Her hand was covered with the ink that she had just stopped from spilling all over her desk, which meant that her fingers left funny splotches on her face. When she rubbed her eyes too, Draco couldn't help but muffle a chuckle.

She's strange, indeed, he thought. She grabbed the book from the floor and eyed Draco, her face turning even redder. Merlin, she was so dirty! It was as if somebody had punched her in both eyes, and this didn't help him to regain control of himself. She approached him, glancing at him now and then in a way that she surely wanted to be flirty, but she looked so much like a panda that it just made him laugh harder.

'You should laugh more frequently, Mr Malfoy. You always seem angry with the world, but I like your dimple here.' She showed him where his dimple was with her dirty hand. Then, she picked up the file that he had requested and gave it to him. It had been under the big book that had fallen onto the floor—no wonder she’d been unable to find it before.

'Dimple?' Draco raised an eyebrow at those words and as he did that, he skimmed through the file she had given him, checking that it was the right one.

'Yes! Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to… how rude of me. I beg your pardon—' she blushed again and passed her dirty hand over her cheek. Draco smiled again.

'Don't worry. Go wash that face of yours, you look like a Sioux,' he said, unable to contain his laughter any longer. Marion stared at her dirty hand and, suddenly realising what he was talking about, she blushed even more and ran to the toilet. Draco continued to laugh as he skimmed through the content of his file once more and left.

'Good morning, Mr Malfoy.' He had just entered the anteroom of Fudge's office and, as usual, Marion smiled at him. He grinned back and she frowned, grabbing one of the waiting memos and starting to read it. 'You’re here… to get those papers? Merlin, can you wait five minutes? I'll be right back,' she said. Then she tried to hide something that she'd been reading before he entered the room and stood up, running out.

Draco shook his head. That girl would never get better. He waited until she'd left the room and then approached her desk; it was a complete mess, as always. How could she be a secretary, he wondered. He often had to deal with other ladies like her, but they were all very precise and efficient.

However… he couldn't make himself hate her. At first, he hated the way she acted, and he still found it annoying. But… he couldn't help chuckling as he recalled the Sioux accident. Today his father should've gone to get the files himself, but Draco had insisted that he go instead—if Lucius caught sight of the mess, he'd probably complain to Fudge.

He glanced at the place where Marion had hastily hidden what she'd been reading before he'd entered the room. It was a sort of small book, which showed on its cover a boy, Or is it a girl? dressed in blue. He or she looked like a Muggle, or at least they dressed like one; besides, the small book must have been printed by Muggles, because it had their style of printing. What a strange taste she has…

He picked it up and started to skim through it. It was a comic book; Draco had read a few during his childhood—the ones drawn by wizards. He'd been a huge fan of a story about a weird Muggle. Miss Winterman is far too old to be reading this sort of stuff, he thought as he tried to follow the drawings. The balloons were written with strange signs…the language definitely wasn't English.

'Mr Malfoy!' Draco gasped at her shout. He glanced in the voice's direction and tried to get rid of the book, instinctively, but didn't put it down. 'I know it took me longer than usual to bring you these papers… but… it's not nice of you to…' she said, her voice shaking. She rested the files she was holding on the desk and pulled the small book out of his hands, a deep blush dusting her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

'You're not paid for reading that stuff,' he said, smirking. 'Or maybe this is a special mission Fudge had given to you?' Noticing her evident embarrassment, his anger faded away. She really was funny… redder than ever and stammering to find a good excuse for what he just had found out.

'Euh… it's that… Um…'

'You've kept me waiting, but don't worry, I won't say a word. However… today my father could've been the one to come here, and he wouldn't have let you off so easily. You didn't prepare the papers that I asked you for two days ago because of… lack of attention,' he said, trying to look serious and eyeing the comic book that the girl was holding as he emphasised the last words.

'I-I'm sorry. It won't happen again, I swear!' she said, bowing in front of him several times.

'I reckon you’ve read too many comics. There's no need to bow like that,' he retorted, causing her to blush even more and mutter other words of excuse, looking mortified while he was having fun teasing her.

'I'm sorry,' she said, again. Then, she took the files that she had left the room to look for and passed them to Draco, hiding the comic in a drawer of her desk. 'Anyway, here are the papers you've asked me to prepare. I hope they're all there.'

'Yes, I think so. Good thing you came back so quickly; if the weather predictors aren't wrong, there will be a snowstorm today, and I have other errands,' he said, quickly glancing at the window as he skimmed through his files. Even if the weather inside the Ministry of Magic was made artificially, the windows were charmed to show the weather outside. And by what the window showed, it looked like the first snowflakes were already starting to fall.

Marion stared at the window, her eyes growing wide. She ran to it to look out, squealed and dashed out the door. Draco was shocked by her reaction, and decided to follow her; after all, he had everything he needed from that office.

Marion ran along the corridor, down the steps to reach the hall and then outside. Draco went to wait for the lift to reach his floor, but he changed his mind and ran after her—who knew what she would do? Maybe she’d finally cracked.

He reached the girl, who had stopped to catch her breath just a few steps from the telephone box door which was the guest entrance to the Ministry.

'Why on earth—' he snapped at her, between breaths.

'The snow… Look, Mr Malfoy… it's snowing!' she murmured under her breath, like a little girl looking at a new doll. She had intertwined her hands and her gaze was all dreamy.

'Yes, it tends to do that when it gets cold during the winter,' he retorted, unable to understand why she was making such a fuss about it.

'I've always loved the snow. But…My family left London to live in Miami years ago, this is the first time that I have seen snow in a while!’ She kept staring at the snowflakes that were slowly increasing their speed. She looked like a child; Draco couldn't keep his usual frown while observing her. It’s so difficult to look "angry with the world” when I'm with her… he thought.

'I understand,' he said, approaching her and draping his cloak over her shoulders; she'd run out without even stopping to take something to keep herself warm.

'Mr Malfoy, do you know what comes of snow when it melts?' she asked, tearing her gaze from the cloudy sky and glancing at him. Draco found himself thinking about the question, and not knowing how to answer.

'Euh… I don't know. Water? Vapour?' he asked, doubtfully. Marion's eyes crinkled as he spoke, but the girl merely shook her head. In front of them, the Muggle crowd walking through the street hurried to open their umbrellas and ran for cover as the snowfall increased.

'No, you’re wrong. It turns into spring.' She turned in his direction again, a sweet smile spreading over her face. This smile was different from the one she'd often shown him when he had entered her office; it was true, genuine, and lit up her whole face.

In the soft light of that day in mid-December, as the sky became even darker and the snow started to grow into a storm, Draco thought Marion's smiling face was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

*End of Dream Sequence Flashback*

'Malfoy? Malfoy?'

He felt someone shaking him, as he unwillingly returned to reality. The room was surrounded by darkness, the only light came from the point of the wand in front of him.

'Huh?' he groaned, waking up and trying to sit up. He shivered from the cold as his body objected to the way he’d slept. His clothes seemed to have tangled around him while he'd been asleep, and he pulled to fix them. As he looked around, he noticed that Ginny Weasley was staring at him, frowning. He sighed.

'You really must've been tired, falling asleep on the mattress, without even making the bed.' She forced him to stand up and then used her wand to command the blankets to set themselves. A few moments later the bed was made. She then placed a tray into his hands.

'Here, I've brought you a snack.'

Draco put the tray on the desk that Hermione had mended a few hours before. He was still half asleep and wasn't able to think clearly. Worse, he was shivering, and he wasn’t feeling very well. He felt his sight blurring and tried to fight the unease that was eating away at him.

Ginny paced the room, observing the various boxes that Hermione had filled earlier that evening. Then, she heard something fall to the floor. When she turned to Draco, her heart sank; everything she had brought had been knocked to the floor as Draco dropped to his knees, his hands on his temples. A moment later he collapsed onto the floor. Ginny ran to his side and shook him.

'Malfoy? Malfoy, please wake up!' He was turning paler and trembling like a leaf. Her infamous slaps, which had awakened Harry many times, were useless and a pang of sheer panic twisted Ginny's insides. Harry knew how to fight a Dementor; Draco didn't.

*Flashback*

'Good Morning, Mr Malfoy! How may I help you?' Marion saw him entering the office and smiled that sweet and genuine smile she reserved only for him from the day they had seen the snow together. Several months had passed since that time, and the way the girl acted with him had slowly changed.

He didn't see her that much; he had had to leave for Romania to take care of some business that his father had there. It seemed that the Dark Lord had been seen there, and Lucius didn't want his Master to think that he had betrayed him again. But Draco hadn’t found anything. Now it was early July, and he was once again stuck in Fudge's office, trying to collect a few files for his father.

'Good morning, Miss Winterman. My father wants to know if the files that he asked you to find in his last memo are ready.' He saw her raise a finger to her mouth and stare at the ceiling, doubtfully. He sighed—she would never change! 'Don't you remember? The ones about the taxes of—' he said tiredly, and a sudden flash passed through Marion's dark eyes.

'How could I forget about them? I'm terribly sorry, Mr Malfoy…' She ran out of the room, blushing.

Draco smirked; as always, the desk was a complete mess. He had a look at it and saw that lying between the various files and folders there was a piece of cake and a glass filled with something that looked like water. He skimmed through the clutter to find that the rest of the cake was hidden under the desk. Marion probably didn't want anyone to see it if they entered the room in haste as he'd done.

If she keeps it there, absent-minded as she is, she will walk over it before the end of the day, he thought, keeping his smirk alive. Then, he had a better look under her folders; he caught a glimpse of what he had known would be there and picked it up. Yet another comic-book… no, she really would never change.

She's taking longer than usual, he thought. Since he was there, was feeling bored, and had that booklet in his hands, he started to skim through it, distractedly. It seemed to be the story of two Muggles… how boring. Then, he turned a page and his eyes went wide with surprise. He started to cough madly, as he forgot how to swallow and began to choke. The page had a picture of two men… yes, they were men… and they were kissing!

'I beg your pardon Mr Mal…MR MALFOY, DON'T READ THAT!' Marion's voice made him recover from the shock. Still coughing, he raised his gaze to her face and stared at her; she was redder than he'd ever seen her before. She pulled the small book out of his hands, like the last time, and glanced at the page that he had stopped at, becoming even redder, if possible. She gulped. 'Euh…'

'What the hell are you reading?' Draco asked when he'd recovered.

'Uh… so… this is… yaoi.'

'Yao… what?'

'Yaoi… eh… love between two people of the same sex.' She saw his sceptical glance and blushed even more. 'Mr Malfoy, please don't look at me like that…'

'Stop reading that stuff. Maybe you'll be more efficient.' He took a big breath and cleared his throat, trying to unsee what he'd just seen. 'Were you eating a cake?' he asked to change the subject. As he did that, he noticed that Marion's mouth was dirty with chocolate cream—he grinned.

'Uh… yes, it's my birthday today…that comic book was a gift from a friend in Miami,' she said, sliding the comic book back into a drawer.

'Oh… happy birthday,' he said, without much interest. 'You should choose your friends more carefully.'

'She sent me this present because she knew that I li… uh… that is…' Marion blushed and shot him a funny look. 'Do you want a piece of cake?'

He nodded; she picked up the tray with the cake and cut him a slice.

'Why are you eating it alone?'

'My family is stuck in Miami, and all my friends live there. I had nobody to eat it with.' The look in her eyes changed from embarrassment to sadness. 'I came back because I found a job.'

Draco noticed that Marion was getting sadder. So that was why…What his father had said was true; Lucius had told Draco that the Wintermans had financial problems and that Mrs Fudge had asked her husband to take Marion as his secretary to help them.

'The Fudges are relatives of yours. Can't you celebrate with them?'

'I already give Uncle Cornelius enough problems during the day. I don't want to disturb him further,' she retorted, staring into nothing. But after a little sigh, she shook her head and regained her cheerful look. She smiled at him—a fake smile this time. Draco was amazed by how easily he noticed the difference.

He stared at her, surprised, as she picked up her plate and held it in her hands, resuming her eating. 'I'm not alone anymore, now, after all. You're with me, Mr Malfoy. Whaddya think about drinking some champagne? My friends sent me a full bottle, but I don’t want to drink it alone.'

He nodded, smirking at her slight American accent; she was born and had spent her childhood here, but staying in Miami had changed the way that she talked. Funny that he had never noticed it…perhaps she normally tried to suppress her accent.

While he had been thinking, Marion had once again knelt and picked up a bottle of Pinot Noir, using her wand to uncork it. The cork banged suddenly and jerked away, bouncing off the ceiling and falling to the other side of the room.

'Seems like neither of us will marry, this year,' Draco said, smiling as she filled a glass that she had just created by transfiguring a clean ashtray.

'It never has happened to me, even in the past, Mr Malfoy. Maybe it means that I won't ever marry.' She stared at him, seriously, and then continued, smiling. 'Who knows…right now I'm happy enough reading love stories and daydreaming.'

Draco raised his glass and bumped it against Marion's, staring at her. Of course, her glass had been transfigured as well… it wasn't easy finding glasses in the Office of the Minister for Magic, Draco imagined.

'Instead of contenting yourself with dreaming, you should look for the right man,' he said. He finished eating his piece of cake and made a mental compliment to the cook. Did that cake really come from Miami? Which type of owl had they used?

'Mr Malfoy, your mouth is covered with chocolate,' Marion said, eyeing him as she finished eating hers.

'Yours is as well. Where's the chocolate? Here?' He moved his hand to clean it off, but she was quicker. Draco didn't understand why—he'd thought about it a lot of times since, and he had never found a reason—but the soft touch of those tiny fingers on his cheek felt like fire to him.

He didn't even notice, but his hand ran to grab hers and stopped it. Her eyes widened and her face turned red as he stared at her, but she didn't move. They stared into each other's eyes, for a long moment; Draco felt his own heartbeat and was sure that Marion's was as fast as his. Suddenly, he saw that she was trying to get away, and he made up his mind. He grabbed her, drew her to him and put his lips on hers. They tasted of chocolate…

*End of Flashback*

Ginny couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy was kissing her… She had spent the last minutes trying not to panic, but nothing could be compared to what she was feeling at that moment. She tried to wriggle away, using all her strength, but his hold was too tight.

She'd managed to lay him on his bed, despite the difficulty of the task due to his weight and inability to cooperate. Then she tried to wake him up, doing everything she could think of. He was almost…delirious. He had even coughed, at one point, and she had got seriously scared about it. She had slapped him on the face many times, and then, after the last slap, Draco had opened his eyes. She had only noticed how close she had been standing to him when he had pushed her down on the bed beside him and had jumped her and kissed her. Just like that. With no understandable reason.

So now, here they were, on his bed; he was on top of her… still kissing her. If somebody had come into the room, what would they have thought of the situation? What would they have thought of her?

Please, please Harry don't come in. Or Ron… thought Ginny, desperately trying to wriggle away. All her efforts seemed useless though, only managing to make things worse, as Draco pushed her down in a more determined manner. He slid one arm at her side, running his fingers through her hair and ending up cupping his hand at the side of her head; the other arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her in place.

But the worst feeling of all—or maybe not, whispered a little voice in her brain, which she tried to ignore and shush—was the awareness that she didn't mind. She didn't mind it at all. In fact, a small part of her was enjoying it. The other part of her was screaming at her brain that the person who was kissing her was Draco Malfoy. She shouldn't be enjoying it. She was Harry's girlfriend, for Merlin's sake!

When the blond wizard finally let go of her lips and started to kiss her jaw and neck, Ginny took a moment to regain some sanity, and screamed into his ear as loudly as she could, 'MALFOY! WAKE UP! GET OFF ME RIGHT NOW!' This seemed to get through to him because Draco stopped. A moment later a pair of grey eyes gazed into hers and widened, his brows flashing in a surprised frown.

'What—' he said.

The loud slap that she delivered to his face prevented him from saying anything else. Ginny pushed him off her and stood up; she smoothed down her robes, still glaring at him, and then, she ran away.

Draco put one hand to his slapped cheek and stared at the wall, blinking. He felt a shiver running down his spine.

To be Continued…

This beautiful art is courtesy of Poggy at DeviantArt. Please check her profile for more examples of her stunning work!

.

§§§.

Chapter 8: Distances

§§§.

‘MALFOY, WAKE UP! GET OFF ME RIGHT NOW!’ Ginny’s scream was so loud that it resounded into the hall of the abandoned building they called home and echoed in the library. Harry put down the book he was reading and looked up.

‘Ginny!’ shouted Ron as he moved to stand up, but Harry was quicker and stopped him. He stood, put his hands over Ron’s shoulders and looked at him.

‘It’s better if I go. Maybe Ginny needs help,’ he said.

Ron looked back, a deep frown furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes narrowing. ‘She’s my sister. What if that...Malfoy did something to her?’

‘She’s also my girlfriend, Ron. Please, let me take care of this.’ Harry saw the anxiety in Ron’s dilated pupils and how he breathed heavily. ‘There’s a Dementor in the area; she must be trying to wake him up; I’m feeling it as well... it’s still far and doesn’t affect me much, but it must affect Malfoy.’

Finally, Harry’s words caught Ron’s attention and helped him calm down, so the red-haired wizard started rereading his book.

‘Okay. But please, see what happened. I swear I’ll kill him with my bare hands if he’s done something to her.’

The frown, and the worry in Ron’s hazel eyes, showed all his pain. Harry smiled and nodded, hurrying out of the room and up the stairs.

*

Two years had passed from the day Harry had asked Ginny to be his girlfriend.

A few months after leaving Hogwarts, the Ministry asked him to go to Hong Kong for an informal mission since he still couldn’t follow the Aurors officially—he hadn’t even started his training yet. However, his name still meant something, and the matter was about a Death Eater.

He’d met her there—Cho Chang. He hadn’t looked for her; it had simply happened. They spoke briefly as he walked through a Market looking for clues and decided to meet again that evening for dinner.

She’d changed a lot. Melancholic and sad, her gaze looked empty and detached; she seemed a shadow of the girl she’d once been. He’d asked her if he could help her. He told her he wanted to be at her side, as a friend or something more.

“I’m sorry, Harry. When I see you, I think of Cedric,” she said. The discomfort made him blush. He, too, had suffered a lot for Cedric’s death, as nightmares and guilt tormented his restless nights in the summer before his fifth year at Hogwarts. He’d often wake in the middle of the night screaming Cedric’s name; the death he witnessed affected him too much to bear. Hell, Dudley had thought he was gay and that Cedric was his boyfriend! When his cousin teased him about it, Harry stared in disbelief and laughed at Dudley’s stupidity. He knew that the other boy had said that only to tease him, but it had done nothing to ease his guilt. Maybe if Harry had been stronger, or more careful.. if he hadn’t asked Cedric to take the cup with him.

He’d also been confused about his feelings for Cho. When she kissed him under the mistletoe, he’d been happier than ever but also had again felt guilty. She was crying for Cedric. She couldn’t avoid thinking of Cedric whenever she was with him.

In the end, he had given up on his hopes that she would change her mind. He felt free when he realised that he didn’t feel that strong pull of his heart towards her anymore, but in truth, it was a lie. He couldn’t stand the thought of dating a girl who always compared him with somebody else. It took him years before he made peace with his feelings and dared to face her again. They met by accident, even this time, not because he’d looked for her.

“I know what you’re thinking. I’m not blaming you; it wasn’t your fault even that time at Hogsmeade; I also was to blame. But I can’t think of a life with you. When I look at you, I’ll always think of Cedric.”

“But—uh—Cho, I’m not asking you to marry me. I want to be your friend and help you get over what happened. I wasn’t mature enough at the time, but I won’t make the same mistake this time. You don’t have to love me,” he said.

She looked at him softly as he spoke and smiled at him for the first time in years—Harry felt an ache straight to his heart.

“ I’d never do that to you. I could say yes, and I know that you’d try your best to be at my side and support me. But I can’t forget Cedric with you. I thought you could help me many years ago, but I know the truth now. I’d only make you suffer, and I don’t want to.” She smiled at him as she finished eating her dinner with those chopsticks he’d never learned to use. “I knew him all my life; we grew up together. He was like a brother to me; when we went to Hogwarts, our relationship grew stronger, and we started dating. I thought he might’ve been the one for me.” She stroked his cheek tenderly as she spoke and noticed the disappointed frown that wrinkled his forehead.

“But,” he tried to retort, his throat aching in a knot he didn’t know how to loosen. How could she do that to her life? She shushed him, putting a finger on his lips.

“Don’t say anything. You know, I must say that I was flattered. I was happy when Harry Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, the one who had fought You-Know-Who...had asked me to go to the Yule Ball with him. Harry Potter had a crush on me. Yes, the fact did stroke my ego a little. But I loved Cedric; it was a much, much stronger feeling than I could—or I ever can—feel for you. I realised it the following year; unfortunately, things haven’t changed.”

“What will you do, then? Will you mourn Cedric for the rest of your life?” he asked her, his fists clenched. Her words had hurt him, and she knew it because she stared at him with deep sadness for a long moment before replying.

“Of course not. My Uncle found me a job in New York; I shall leave in two weeks.” She stroked his cheek softly. “I’ll be fine, Harry. You deserve better than a girl who will always cry looking at you.” She kissed him on the cheek she had stroked and left.

Harry returned to his hotel room. And cried.

When he concluded his mission and returned to England, he was invited to Ron and Hermione’s wedding. After thinking a lot about what Cho had said to him, he decided not to drown himself in his misery and move on, even if his heart still ached at the thought.

At the wedding, he saw Ginny again. She had just finished Hogwarts and, not having seen her for a whole year, Harry couldn’t help noticing how pretty she’d become.

*

When he arrived upstairs and saw her, all rational thoughts left his brain. She was leaning against the door of Draco’s room, red in the face, eyes shining with fury, her breathing heavy and laboured.

‘What happened? Are you all right, love?’ he asked, rushing to her side. He’d believed what he said to Ron, that Malfoy wasn’t harming her. But now he’d changed his mind...Could Malfoy really…? He’d never forgive himself or the blond wizard, if he’d harmed her in any way.

She glared at him, not that Harry could understand why. However, Ginny returned to her senses almost immediately; the shock left her, as did the annoying expression that her face had shown after hearing his words. Her glare softened and she beamed. Drawing near him sensually, she flung her arms around his neck and kissed him. Harry started with surprise.

Ginny ruffled his hair and brushed her lips on his skin up to under his chin, drawing a light path of kisses over his jaw until she reached his earlobe. A shiver ran down Harry’s spine...how did she always know what to do with him?

‘Not that I’m complaining, but what did I do to deserve this?’ he asked, popping a smile on his lips. She aroused him so much in the few seconds he’d been there that he wouldn’t be able to go back to the library, even if Ron had started to scream.

‘I can’t tell you,’ she murmured, tickling his earlobe. Harry shuddered again and stared at her with desire as she looked down and admitted, ‘There’s something I must forget.’

‘Do you want to forget it here in the corridor, or do you prefer to go to our room? You know, sweetie, if you keep doing this to me, I’ll lose myself in you very quickly.’

She giggled and grabbed his hand, her eyes shining with mirth as she told him, ‘Let’s hurry, then!’ Her voice grew husky, and she spoke those words in a way that Harry couldn’t resist.

Did she know how crazy she drove him to act this way? Of course she knows, Harry thought, a sly grin curling the edges of his mouth. Ginny dragged him to their room and closed the door after her. Her back rested on the wooden surface of the door; she looked at him with a mischievous grin on her lips.

‘D’you want to play?’ he said, noticing that she jerked away when he tried to catch her. She giggled and nodded, moving around with surprising speed to prevent him from catching her.

Harry took his wand out of his pocket, a delinquent smile stretching his lips. ‘Accio, Ginny!’

Inside her cage, Hedwig hooted, amused.

‘Mr Potter! You know that this charm doesn’t work with people!’ Ginny retorted, mimicking Professor Flitwick’s frown. Then she laughed at his sheepish expression, which slowed her down enough to allow him to reach her. Seconds later, his arms held her thin waist; she was still chuckling, but she rubbed her body against him in a way that was driving him insane.

‘Well, my summoning charm worked, after all. Five points to Gryffindor!’ he said, smiling at her with a look full of want. He kissed her sweetly as his hands passed over her body in a gentle caress.

She was magnificent. From the day he’d seen her at Ron and Hermione’s wedding, he’d kept going to and from the Burrow and 12 Grimmauld Place. His feelings for Ginny had strengthened, and he’d realised that he felt something more than friendship towards her.

He wasn’t sure that he loved her, though. He didn’t feel the same pang of pain in his heart than he’d felt for Cho. At Hogwarts, or even in Hong Kong, a few months before. He didn’t feel his legs turning like jelly and his mind walking into the clouds only because he’d caught her smile. But he felt happy when he was with her.

Eventually, he made up his mind and asked her to be his girlfriend; she accepted, never leaving his side since. She’d looked after him, giving him strength, cheering him up when he was sad, consoling him and trying to make him feel better when a Dementor passed by. She was his support, his rock—he needed her, desperately.

*

They made love, with fervour at first, and then more tenderly, until they were so exhausted that Harry swore nothing could make him move a muscle, not even Voldemort Apparating into their room with all his Death Eaters.

‘What would you do if they really Apparated here now?’ Ginny whispered into his ear with a chuckle.

‘I’d die. Tired, but happy,’ he replied, stretching his words a little and holding her tightly.

She answered with a happy giggle and then stared at the ceiling for a while, running her hands through his hair in a delicate caress.

‘Harry?’ she whispered.

Harry’s eyes were already shut; the exhaustion of the day, the emotions he’d felt, and the delicate touch of her hands through his hair...everything had lulled him into a sort of torpor. He didn’t notice that she’d called him, but replied automatically.

‘Hmmmm?’

‘Tell me that you love me,’ she murmured into his ear. Harry didn’t reply, relaxing happily into her embrace. ‘Say it, please...’ she pleaded. She waited for his reply for a long moment, as a spectral silence invaded the room, broken only by Hedwig ruffling her feathers into her cage.

In the end, she heard a light snore, realising that Harry had fallen asleep.

Underneath him, his breath still tickling her neck and moving her hair gently, Ginny used her wand to switch the light off. Then, she put it on the bedside table, together with Harry’s glasses. A silent tear fell from the corner of her eye down her cheek, staining her pillow.

§§§

Draco stared at the wall. His right cheek, where Ginny had slapped him, was hurting him badly; he was shuddering because of the cold, but the only coherent thing he could think of was that he still felt her taste in his mouth. Ginny’s taste.

What have I done? he thought, still unable to think properly in his cotton-filled head. He remembered only that he had felt the cold that he had learned to associate with a Dementor. The next thing he remembered was lying on his bed on top of Ginny Weasley.

I was kissing her. Damn! And I liked it too, he thought, shocked by the sudden realisation. He couldn’t believe it.

I remember what the Dementor showed me, that day with Marion, he mused, trying to clear his thoughts. And then he had it, as clear as day, and the very thought rushed the blood to his face. He’d kissed her because his fogged mind mistook her for Marion.

‘I’m a fool, a complete and utter fool,’ he decided, his hand dropping from his cheek and landing on his leg.

From the other side of the door, in the corridor, he heard Harry and Ginny’s voices, muttering things he couldn’t catch until he heard their bedroom door closing.

Feeling deep shivers invading his body, he decided he needed a piece of chocolate. So he got up, walked through the door and down the steps, reaching the kitchen.

‘Oh, it’s you, Malfoy.’ Ron’s voice caught him unprepared and startled him. He turned and saw the red-haired wizard sitting at the table, Hermione hugging him from behind.

‘Yeah, is there a problem, Weasel?’ replied Draco, feigning indifference. Ron stared at him, his eyes just thin slits in his face.

‘We heard Ginny screaming a few moments ago.’ Draco paled slightly, and the red-haired wizard noticed, of course. ‘What’s happened? Harry went upstairs to have a look and never came back.’

‘Nothing,’ said Draco. A kiss wasn’t exactly nothing, above all if stolen the way he did. But...he had promised not to insult them, not that he would never lie. ‘Where’s chocolate?’ he asked, trying to change the subject.

Hermione parted from Ron and walked towards a large cupboard at the side of the kitchen. She opened one of the doors and looked for something inside. Ron stood up and faced him; he towered over Draco by a good distance. His hazel eyes reflected Draco’s pale orbs; his frown clearly enhanced his feelings.

‘I’m bloody serious, Malfoy. Don’t you dare touch my sister! Oath or not, I’ll draw your eyes out and make you eat them for breakfast.’

Draco paled but still feigned confidence. When Hermione approached him holding a piece of chocolate, he took it and walked out, turning only to tell Ron, ‘There’s no danger, Weasley.’ Then, he turned again and started making his way up the stairs.

‘Uh, Malfoy?’ said Ron, forcing him to stop.

Draco turned again in the redhead’s direction, waiting for him to continue, but when Ron stayed silent too long for his tastes, he asked, ‘What is it?’

Ron cocked an eyebrow at him. ‘What have you done to your face?’ he asked.

‘Your sister has a heavy hand.’ Draco’s cheeks coloured. Not trusting himself to keep eye contact, he tore his gaze from Ron’s, nodded dismissively at him and made his way to his room.

***

‘Harry must’ve been right, Ron. Ginny was probably trying to wake him up because of a Dementor. The fact that he came looking for chocolate proves it.’ Hermione leant her head over her husband’s shoulders.

‘I know.’ Ron’s gaze shone with desire as he grabbed her arms and turned towards her, hugging her back.

‘Ginny’s a grown-up woman now, and Harry loves her, you know,’ said Hermione in a monotone, trying to cheer him up as they returned to the kitchen. ‘Let him take care of her.’

‘I dunno, Hermione. Sometimes... don’t you think that Ginny…’ He sighed, his gaze darting around the big kitchen as he thought about what he wanted to say next. He sighed again. ‘Maybe it’s just my imagination,’ he said eventually. He looked lovingly at his wife, who worked to take his cloak off and started to undress him. He sat, and she leaned down on him, wrapping him into another hug.

‘Let Harry and Ginny fix their issues, Ron. If you get in between them, you risk making things worse.’

He started playing with her hair. Ron loved sinking his fingers in it and spending time curling its tips around his fingers. It was a part of her body that he’d never considered worthy of a second look when they were at Hogwarts—he’d always considered it bushy and unattractive. However, now it was one of the parts of her he loved most. He kept coiling it for a while as she hugged him, satisfied by his closeness that comforted them. Then, Hermione parted from the hug and checked the cauldron with Lupin’s potion. As Ron groaned, she flashed him a smile.

‘Oh honey, you know I must check if it’s done. Remus needs to drink a lot of it tonight and tomorrow.’ She stirred the potion thoroughly, turning the ladle several times.

‘Yes, but...there are already ten bottles filled with the bloody thing over there.’

‘Don’t be such a baby. This is the last lot for tonight. I believe you can wait a few minutes.’ She glanced at him furtively, a cunning smile curling her lips.

This was enough to let Ron lose his pout. ‘Okay, then I’ll finish reading this book. Has Sirius already gone to bed?’

‘Yes, I had to force him to go, as he wanted to stay here with Remus. But Remus told him that he could totally drink the potion with no help, so Sirius went upstairs.’

Ron closed the book and stared at his wife, a frown furrowing his brows. ‘Honestly, Hermione... don’t you think that something changed between them from that day?’

‘Harry and Ginny? Do you mean September the 11th?’ she asked. Ron nodded, and she sighed. ‘I don’t know. Yes, Harry’s reaction was weird. But…we all were in a state of shock.’ She turned the fire off as she spoke, and looked for an empty bottle in the closet.

‘Yes, but Ginny was cold with Harry the next few days. And since then, she often looks odd,’ mused Ron.

Hermione put the liquid into an empty bottle she had just found and cast a washing charm on the cauldron. ‘I already told you my opinion. Let them deal with their problems.’ She moved towards him and forced him up, flinging her arms around his neck and going on her tiptoes to reach his height. ‘You trust Harry, don’t you?’

‘Of course I do. Maybe...maybe you’re right, I worry too much,’ he said.

Her lips started to draw a light path of kisses on his jaw and neck, indulging briefly where his Adam’s Apple was bobbing up and down. As she straddled him, started to undress him, and her hands ran feverishly on his bare chest, Ron couldn’t bear it any longer. He picked her up bridal style and carried her to their room on the second floor.

When they left, Lupin entered the kitchen and grabbed one of the bottles Hermione had just filled with Wolfsbane potion, drinking a big sip directly from it.

‘The air is electric tonight,’ he muttered. ‘It’ll rain tomorrow.’

To be Continued…

.

§§§.

Chapter 9: Ginny’s Revenge...

§§§.

Draco spent the majority of the night tossing and turning in his bed. Don't get him wrong; he was grateful that he finally had his own bed, but he just couldn’t shake the memories of what had happened earlier.

I must learn how to protect myself from Dementors, he thought, shuddering as he flipped over again. I already messed up badly enough this time. If it were to happen again….I don't know what consequences it could have.

Finally, he fell into a sort of in-between state, asleep but not fully, awake but without awareness. Harsh nightmares tormented his sleep, nightmares in which he saw himself kissing Marion, who transformed suddenly into Ginny. And that feeling of dread and fear never left his mind.

Eventually, he decided that it was pointless pretending to sleep and got up to stretch his legs and maybe get tired enough to finally gain unconsciousness. However, he doubted that the mere act of walking would tire him up any more than he already was; his muscles were still sore from the manual labour he had to undertake that afternoon. He ached everywhere…even in muscles he didn't even know the existence of.

He got up anyway, and his gaze went briefly to the clock—half past two in the morning. Damn, time was crawling by slowly! He paced the room nervously and looked at his reflection in the mirror, one of the many things Hermione had fixed the day before. The mark of Ginny’s slap had faded away, but there’s still a reminder of what happened, he thought, as his gaze caught sight of what lay on the floor next to his bed. He had completely forgotten about it; when he returned to his room, he went straight to bed, only remembering to put his pyjamas on. But the food Ginny brought to him was still there, all splattered on the floor.

He sighed and picked up again the pail and the cloths that Hermione had left there, starting to clean up. The thought that he had to be wandless for yet another day gave a jolt to his insides, And there was another problem: how would he get his wand back? Ollivander could’ve called the Aurors; he couldn't go there.

He moved the wet cloths across the floor, trying to remove all traces of milk. The white liquid had dried on the wooden beams and was now filling the room with the foulest stench. He'd never thought it would be so difficult to clean dried milk from the floor. He’d never really had to think about it, actually. If he’d thrown some milk on the floor at Malfoy Manor, there would always be a house elf close enough to fix the problem. Besides, in the two years he’d spent alone, he’d never stayed in the same place for long, so he never had to clean it, unlike now.

It took him a lot of hard work, but eventually, he managed to clean the floor of any trace of milk and other stains. It took him so long that, when he glanced at the clock, he noticed that it was a quarter to three.

He still wasn’t sleepy. The room was stale and hot—he needed air, so he walked to the window. The shutters were shabby from the tear and wear of time and weather. There were intricate carvings of dragon’s heads at the edges of the windows, but they were worn out as well. The whole structure seemed to be ready to fall on his head if he even attempted cracking it open a little, so he didn't dare touch it.

The moon was shining in the dark sky. Granger was right; tomorrow, it would be a full moon. A shiver ran down Draco’s spine at the thought that Lupin would turn into a werewolf. The stories that his governess had told him when he was a child echoed in his mind and gave him the creeps. Until he went to Hogwarts, he didn’t know about the Wolfsbane potion. Besides, when they were at Hogwarts, it was Professor Snape who'd prepared it, which had filled Draco with confidence, being the Potion Master. But this time, Granger had prepared it, and it was a new formula.

Would it work?

Uncharacteristically for him, Draco found himself thinking that it would. Flashing his eyebrows at the sudden realisation, Draco rubbed his thumb under his chin, wondering when he started trusting Granger. He wasn't exactly certain, but he had.

Still shocked, he tore himself away from the window and started to pace the room again. He thought about going back under the blankets, but he changed his mind, too afraid of having to face yet another dream where he was kissing Ginny. He didn’t want to have any more of those dreams, and besides, that nasty feeling just didn’t want to go away.

Eventually, he resolved to get out of his room and spend some time exploring the building; after all, he hadn’t yet familiarised himself with the place he'd agreed to live in. He put a dressing gown on and wondered where it came from, as it hadn’t been there when he'd tidied the room with Hermione’s help. Maybe Ginny put it there when she made his bed. Ginny and the bed…damn, he didn’t want to think about these two things—together!

He opened his bedroom door and stepped into the corridor of the first floor. He already knew the ground floor pretty well, so he decided to have a look at the one he was on now, and then at the floors above.

The room near the stairs was Harry and Ginny’s. He knew that because he’d seen them coming out of it that morning. He noticed that the doors of the rooms that belonged to someone were the only ones that weren’t worn out. The laundry room’s door—Potter said that the room next to Draco’s was the laundry room—was crooked but in better condition than the other ones, which evidently were hiding empty rooms. Apart from the laundry room, his room and the one where Harry and Ginny slept, Draco saw that there was only one other door that didn’t look worn out. He thought it might be Sirius’s room. At least, he had seen Sirius walking through that corridor in the morning. He could’ve been there to look for Potter, but the latter was already in the library at that moment, and Sirius knew that perfectly well.

Curious, Draco tried to open one of the worn-out doors to have a look at the empty rooms. He found out that Potter hadn’t been lying: the room they gave to Draco really was in good condition. A few empty rooms also had broken floorboards. How could that building still be up? Could it possibly be that the spell Potter and the others had cast on it was that powerful?

Tired of walking through the first floor, he decided to look at the ones above. He noticed that even the stairs were tidied up by magic. In fact, the steps that lead to the third floor were almost impossible to use.

On the second floor, he saw only one pristine door and understood who slept there. Of course, those two needed a bit more privacy. The other rooms were a complete disaster, just like the ones he had seen on the first floor. On opening one, he panicked, feeling the door actually detaching from its hinges. He tried to shut it down again quietly—oh well, quietly was indeed a big word...let’s say trying not to let anybody hear the curses he was hissing against the door and the cracking noise of the pivots—but this required a great effort from him.

He had a quick look at the other rooms, more cautiously than before, and then decided to look on the third floor. However, when he arrived at the fifth or sixth step, he almost gave up; not only were the steps creaking as he walked up, but it felt as if the stairs were going to collapse entirely. He decided to pursue his task, though, since anything was better than going back to that bed, and having those dreams.

Cautiously, he kept going up, hoping at every creak that the two who slept on the second floor didn’t come out and try to hex him—he couldn’t defend himself! But eventually, he arrived at his destination. It was in a really deplorable condition. If the whole building was in such a state, I’ll take my hat off to whomever set up the first two floors, he thought, realising that he had just made a compliment to Hermione; because, of course, she must've been the one who took care of that. He was starting to get too nice towards her for his own liking.

Not only was the floor a complete disaster, but it was awfully hot, and the smell was giving him a headache and a sense of claustrophobia.

He decided to climb on. The building was composed of seven floors, as he found out, over which was a big terrace. Feeling unbearably sick from the heaviness of the air around him, Draco opened the door to the terrace and found himself outside. He shuddered at the chilly wind that slapped his face. Arms crossed, rubbing his hands on his shoulders to build heat, he walked to the parapet, staring for a while at Muggle London under him.

It was four in the morning, but a few cars were already crossing the roads at high speeds. Those Muggles had to go to work early. Draco also saw a few of those ridiculous red buses. He'd seen many of them when he hid in different hostels every day; some buses were built on two floors, but there were also a few of them that only had one. They were useful, but none of them could ever be compared to the Knight Bus, he mused. No, they couldn’t be compared with that. The moon had floated along the entire night sky and was slowly fading, and the stars were shining brighter than before. His mind went back to Hogwarts; looking at the starry sky in the Astronomy Tower, maybe while snogging a girl...he didn’t win the title of best Slytherin kisser for nothing.

Once again kisses? Damn...he thought, shrugging. He had to find less dangerous thoughts. I must tell her that I’m sorry. Not that I think she had an unpleasant experience...she kissed Draco Malfoy; it’s not every day you kiss the handsomest boy in Slytherin!

He didn’t even know what the problem was. Maybe he felt guilty because he had kissed her while mistaking her for another woman. Yes, maybe it was that; it wasn’t a nice way to treat someone, even a Weasley.

Finally, he couldn’t stay outside in the cold anymore and went back into the building, shutting the door after him. His hands were freezing...it had really been a stupid idea to go outside wearing only his pyjamas and dressing-gown in the middle of winter. He went downstairs, cautiously again, holding his breath at each creak, but nobody seemed to hear the noise, and he was soon back in his room.

He sank to his bed and fell into a dreamless sleep.

He woke a few hours later and stared at the ceiling, baffled. He didn’t know how long he had slept…but luckily, no more nightmares. He slowly sat up and glanced at the clock—it was half past eight in the morning, so he had slept for almost four hours. Now that was a miracle!

He wore the same robe as the day before and decided to go downstairs to look for a bite to eat. He really was starving; it was incredible how hungry you get if you’ve slept only a few hours. He hurried down the stairs and found himself in the hall.

One of the windows positioned on the outside let a few rays of sunlight through; Draco could see the dust dancing down the hallway. He found himself staring at a small bit of it, which was calmly wavering in front of his nose. He took a moment to shrug and come back to his senses. Oh, yes, he had to get something to eat...the building was so quiet that maybe everyone was still asleep. He could hear the voices of the Muggles outside: someone was yelling at the women to buy his potatoes. Bah! He had more interesting things to do right now, as suddenly, the smell of food reached his nostrils, and Draco was sure that it came from the kitchen. Yes, definitely from there; he also thought he heard the sound of eggs frying.

Draco came into the room where he had slept for days, and saw Lupin, still asleep, holding protectively a bottle half filled with the Potion Granger had prepared all day before. His hand seemed to clutch the bottle as if it contained his life.

The smell of food was even stronger there, and Draco smiled before entering the kitchen. He’d finally have the opportunity to talk to Ginny and tell her that he was sorry and it was all a terrible mistake. He’d lose that knot in his stomach that had distressed him all night.

But, to his astonishment, the one who was in the kitchen wasn’t Ginny.

‘Oh, you woke up.’ A pair of green eyes glared at him from near the stove. Draco sighed—Potter didn’t seem happy.

‘Where’s Weasley?’ he asked, pretending not to have heard him.

‘She’s still upstairs. This morning she literally threw me out of bed, saying that she couldn’t always do everything. She looked upset. Now she’s still sleeping; I dunno what happened to her,’ replied Harry, sighing as he checked the thickness of the porridge. ‘Pass me the blueberries, please,’ he asked Draco, pointing at the table while he poured the thick liquid into a cup. Draco glanced at the worktop and flashed his eyebrows because there were two different types of berries. Was he supposed to know which one Potter wanted?

‘Why should I?’ he asked.

Harry gazed at him, forgetting for a moment to pay attention to his Porridge.

‘Come on, make it easy, Malfoy. I’m cooking for you too, just pass me the blueberries. Or you cook it yourself.’ Harry's smile turned sly at the worried glance Draco had addressed him.

‘Which ones d’you need?’ he asked.

‘The same quantity of both. Quickly, please. Ah, I also need the honey, over there,’ continued Harry, pointing to the other side of the table as he carefully arranged the porridge. When he saw Harry decorating the Porridge with the berries, he had to admit that it smelled and looked good.

‘I didn’t think you could cook,’ he said.

Harry glared at him as he finished his decorations.

‘I don’t like doing it, but I had to learn. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia always forced me to make breakfast and wash the dishes...and if the Porridge wasn’t perfect or the bacon was burnt, they would shout at me. Of course, you never had problems of that sort.’

Draco noticed that Harry was really pissed off—he had blushed considerably and was frowning. Not that he cared a damn about Potter's Muggle relatives, but he thought that they must have been really awful.

Thinking that Potter’s childhood hadn’t been as good as his gave him a slight sense of satisfaction.

‘Don’t take this as a compliment Potter...but I think the Porridge is just fine right now. I don’t want the eggs to burn, I’m hungry,’ he said, giving a worried glance to the frying-pans. Hastily, Harry turned to the stove and lowered the gas. He then glared at Draco.

‘If you’re that worried about your breakfast, you can cook it yourself, I already told you that,’ he hissed.

Draco smirked, amused by Harry’s agitation.

‘If I cooked something, Potter, this kitchen would explode in the same way the dungeons did at Hogwarts when Longbottom made a Potion. If you like the state it’s in now, I suggest you keep to the cooking.’

To Draco’s surprise, Harry hardly hid a laugh.

‘Yeah, I have no doubts,’ he said, checking the eggs again. Then he turned to Draco and stared at him, curiosity shining through his green eyes. ‘There’s something I wanted to ask you, Malfoy.’

‘What?’ Draco asked.

Harry turned the gas off and concentrated on the bacon briefly. Then, he turned off that hob and cleaned the sweat from his forehead, and his hands on his apron.

‘What did you do to Ginny?’ he asked afterwards, his gaze fixed at him.

Draco gasped at the question and his eyes widened: he’d never thought Harry would ask.

‘I…? N-nothing,’ he stammered, lowering his gaze. He tried to feign confidence by dropping himself to sit on the table casually, but Harry blocked him. He held him with an iron grip on his shoulder, and forced Draco to eye contact with him.

‘The Malfoy I know doesn’t say “nothing” looking awkward. It’s not something I’d expect from you.’

‘And what exactly would you expect from me?’ hissed Draco dryly.

Harry smirked at the question. ‘Yesterday I found Ginny coming out of your room. She looked distressed and I heard her screaming just beforehand.’

Draco stared at Harry for a long moment, trying to keep a dignified expression, but eventually he lowered his gaze...getting annoyed with himself for showing himself weak. He shrugged Harry’s hand harshly from his shoulder and sat at the table.

‘If I said that nothing happened, then nothing happened.’ Draco looked coldly at the plate in front of him and noticed that he didn’t have cutlery. He cursed under his breath and stood up again, to go look for them.

‘She acted strangely yesterday after the fact. Not that I disliked what she did...but she said that she had to “forget something”. Forget what? And why is she so upset today? There must be a reason.’ Harry kept glaring at him, blabbing utter nonsense.

Suddenly, Draco threw his fork on his plate and glared back. ‘Since when were things like that? You don’t satisfy her in bed and it’s my fault?’ he snapped up.

Anger flashed through Harry’s eyes; he blushed furiously. ‘What have you done to her?’ he roared, slamming his hands on the table and lowering his face to Draco’s. Those eyes...it was as if a painful flash had passed through their green hue.

‘I just ask you to cook bloody breakfast and all hell breaks loose. D’you have to start having arguments with people this early in the morning?’

Both men turned to the voice. Ginny was resting her back on the wall and staring at the pair, her arms crossed over her chest. Draco thought that she was glaring at him, but instead her full attention was addressed to Harry, who had immediately lost all his haughtiness and rage.

‘But...Ginny…’ he stammered.

She put a hand on her forehead and sighed. She then walked to the stove, picked up the pan of fried eggs, toasted some bread with a flick of her wand and went to inspect the porridge.

‘Wow, I should ask you to cook more often, Harry,’ she said, shooting at the man with a piercing glance. Harry stiffened.

Of course she said that because she knew that it would annoy him, Draco thought.

Ginny took two small bowls, filled them with porridge, walked to the table and settled everything for breakfast. She then put one of the bowls in front of Draco. ‘This smells good, Malfoy. Eat it before it gets cold,’ she ordered.

It also tastes good, actually, Draco thought at his first spoonful. It wasn’t every day that the Boy-Who-Lived cooked your breakfast, after all. Harry looked stricken with frustration. Draco smirked and considered pushing things further. No, he decided, no need doing that...Black said that if anyone would get mad at me I’d find my arse out in the cold, and of course the ‘anyone’ wasn’t referred to Granger alone.

He kept eating his breakfast, thinking that he, absolutely, had to talk to Ginny. He had to tell her that he was sorry. Sometimes her gaze shot dagger at him and, the only time they had touched unintentionally, she had withdrawn her hand as if she'd been burnt.

Do I disgust her that much? thought Draco. It had been just a bloody kiss, after all! What if he’d done more? If I’d done more, I wouldn’t be here eating breakfast. His smirk grew wider as the thought crossed his mind.

However, there was something that was nagging him. At first, he had been curious but had kept his curiosity to himself because, after all, what happened between the youngest Weasley and Potter was none of his sodding business. Now it was starting to bother him though; why was Ginny that mad at Potter?

‘Good Morning.’ Lupin’s tired voice echoed in the kitchen. ‘Is there coffee ready? I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep my eyes open, today.’ He dragged himself around the room looking almost like a ghost and displaying huge marks under his eyes.

Lupin Probably slept even less than me, Draco thought.

‘I’ll make it in a minute, Remus, please take a seat,’ said Ginny, hastily standing up to reach the stove.

Lupin put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to stay sitting. ‘You will prepare nothing, my dear,’ he said looking at her with a fond smile. ‘I'll make it myself. Today’s your birthday, you shouldn’t do menial chores.’

Ginny’s eyes brightened. She beamed at the man and settled down into her seat. Harry’s eyes widened and he cursed under his breath.

‘Ginny...happy birthday...I’m sorry,’ he said, as his face turned pink.

She glared at him even harsher than before. ‘If others must remind you…’ she hissed.

‘With all that happened yesterday, I forgot.’ He stood up and tenderly rested his chin on her shoulder, hugging her. ‘But I did remember, I swear...wait for me, I’ll be back.’

He rushed out of the kitchen and came back straight after, carrying a small package in his hands. ‘See? I didn’t forget.’

He put the gift in her hands and she raised a dubious eyebrow at him as she opened the present; it was a pendant in the shape of a G, made in silver and decorated with small diamonds and a heart in the back.

‘Oh it's lovely!’ she said, sincerely awed. But her joyful expression immediately faded into an annoyed frown. ‘Thank you,’ she added more softly.

‘You don’t like it? We can change it if you don’t,’ asked Harry nervously.

She shook her head to say no and wore the necklace. Then she hugged him and kissed him gently on the lips. But the hug didn’t look affectionate.

I must know what’s going on. Not my business, but I don’t like it when I don’t understand.

Draco spent his whole morning chasing after her, but she always succeeded in being with someone else. As time passed by, the knot in his stomach grew...he was so tired that his eyelids dropped and he couldn’t concentrate on the books he was skimming through. He wouldn’t be able to resist another night without sleep, tormented by those nightmares.

Eventually, he found the right moment. Potter was on the other side of the room, adding Draco’s face to a hand on the Weasley’s clock with Ron. Draco wasn't very happy about them doing that, but it kept Ginny alone so he didn’t complain. Granger and Black were reading in the library, Lupin was laying on his sofa, trying to get some sleep when he didn’t have to drink his Potion. He sat on the table near Ginny, who was waiting for the tea to be done.

‘Weasley,’ he started. She tried to stand, but he put a hand on her shoulder and forced her to sit. ‘Please, wait. I...wanted to...apologise.’

He swallowed hard before saying the last words, his face turning pink. She sat more comfortably at those words and checked the tea in the pot. It was ready to drink, because she filtered the leaves and then poured it in her and Draco’s mugs. The tea mixed with milk in the cups, turning into a creamy and delicate colour.

‘Apologise...for what?’ she asked abruptly.

‘I did something I shouldn’t have. I mean...I wasn’t myself, I know. The first thing I remember is your slap. I kissed you thinking that you were another person, and for that, I’m sorry,’ he muttered. Luckily Harry and Ron were still far away; he’d never want them to see his humiliation.

‘I understand,’ spoke Ginny, sipping her tea. She spent a long moment staring at the liquid in her mug, swirling it to mix the milk. ‘You kissed me thinking I was somebody else.’

‘Yes. Look, if it makes you happy, I didn’t sleep much last night.’

He looked up at her face. She gave him a tired smile.

‘All right, I accept your apology. Although...I don’t get why you let it affect you so badly. You were lucky, after all,’ she snapped.

Draco gave her a confused look. ‘What d’you mean?’ he drawled.

Her brown eyes shone in amusement but there was also something else in them that Draco couldn't put his finger on.

‘You were lucky that I was the one who woke you up. You could’ve kissed anybody, right? Imagine if Hermione had been in my place…’ Draco’s grey eyes widened even more as blood drained from his face. Ginny chortled and continued, ‘Or HARRY.’

Draco swallowed at that word. He felt drops of tea burning his throat and started to cough...he had to fight not to splutter. His face turned pink as he coughed spasmodically. Ginny let out a quiet giggle and addressed him with a venomous glare as she stood and walked towards the stove.

A few seconds later, Harry and Ron noticed Draco's coughing and left the charming of the clock’s hand. Harry rushed towards him and started to hit his back ruthlessly.

‘Are you all right, Malfoy?’ he asked.

At last Draco managed to stop coughing and looked around, meeting Harry’s green eyes, which were looking at him worriedly. His face turned as white as a sheet as he stood faster than he'd ever done in his life.

‘It’s none of your sodding business, Potter!’ he hissed and rushed out of the kitchen, still coughing.

Harry heard a door on the first floor slamming and looked at Ron who had just joined him.

‘What did I do now?’ he asked. Ron shrugged.

A little farther, Ginny barely suppressed another giggle and took off her apron, leaving the kitchen to go to the library. Harry looked around, confusion written all over his face.

To be Continued…