Thanks to all those who have reviewed the previous set of chapters, I was pleased with the warm reception my story has received on this site!
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Chapter 8: Exposure
Blinking a few times, Ginny’s eyes quickly scanned her surroundings. She was suddenly cold, as a frigid breeze ripped through her hair, sending it into wild disarray. From what she could make out from the darkness, she was standing in some sort of forest. Thinking quickly, she assumed that the folder that had appeared on her desk was a Portkey and it had brought her to whoever had left it there.
Cursing, she realized that she did not have her wand with her. She was stranded, and helpless. She heard a noise behind her, and let out a shriek as she felt an arm brush her shoulder. Swinging her arms, she punched at whatever it was behind her, and pulled away, prepared to run. The arm shot back, grabbing her wrist, pulling her back. She was about to scream again when her attacker’s hand roughly covered her mouth.
“Don’t scream, Weasley. You’ll let everyone in Bulgaria know you’re here,” a cool voice whispered, beside her ear. Her eyes widened in shock. Shoving the man’s grip on her aside, she turned around, and saw who the voice belonged to. Malfoy.
“What the hell is going on, Malfoy?” she spat, her eyes blazing with her fury.
“You said you were going to take the bait. Here you go, Weasley. How else are you going to learn why you and Fudge are so wrong about them unless you see the Bulgarians for yourself?” he asked, his eyes glinting dangerously. For a split second, she stared at him in shock.
But that didn’t last. The next thing he knew, she reached out and pushed him backwards with a lot more force than a woman her size should reasonably have.
“You arrogant little git! How dare you just…Portkey me here without consulting me, without my permission!” she cried, as she pushed him again before he could gain his balance. He tumbled over, more shocked than anything. She spun away from him in anger, and began pacing around the small clearing, obviously enraged.
She’s fascinating, he couldn’t help but think, watching her as she worked through her anger. The clouds covering the moon had cleared, lighting the area with a pale light. Her hair, which was down for once, was blowing about the wind, mirroring her wild anger. The pale nightshirt she was wearing gave her skin an ethereal pale look, more so than usual. Draco blinked a few times, trying to figure out why she suddenly seemed so beautiful to him. He tried to look away, to shake the sight of her, but it was impossible. He was staring at her.
“Okay, Malfoy, what’s your plan? Let’s do what you brought me here to do, so I can get back to London. Since I don’t have my wand with me, I’m holding you fully responsible for my return,” she stated, clearly over her temper tantrum. It was startling how fast she could go from boiling temper to the cool negotiator that she was known for being.
“There are certain things you need to understand about Bulgaria before you proceed with this deal that you’re obsessed with. You’re here so I can show you what you need to understand,” he said, standing up, brushing the dirt from his robe.
“You couldn’t have picked a more convenient time, could you? Inconsiderate prat, I’m not even bloody dressed,” she said, hugging herself against the chill. Draco regarded her for a moment, as if wrestling with something. Then he pulled off his black robe and tossed to her.
“Here, put this on, then,” he said, as he started walking away. She was surprised.
“Aren’t you going to have to burn it now that a Weasley’s touched it?” she asked snidely, wrapping the robe around her. It was warm from Draco’s body, and ridiculously long for her. As she followed warily behind him, she was smugly pleased to see the ends dragging along the ground.
“It’s either that, or your shivering will alert everyone that you’re here. They aren’t too fond of strangers in these parts, especially strangers from the Ministry,” he said, as he walked expertly down a path. Ginny trailed behind, stumbling over the rough path, hindered by the darkness and the fact that her feet were bare.
“Great, Malfoy. I didn’t think you were out to get me killed,” she muttered grumpily as another stone bit into the bottom of her foot.
“You agreed to this. And I am shocked, what happened to that lovely little icy diplomat I met a few days ago in her office? The one who was so diplomatic she was willing to at least play nice to someone she clearly hates?”
“People who kidnap me right out of my own flat don’t deserve diplomacy—” Her curt reply was cut short by her tiny yelp of pain as tripped over an exposed tree root. She landed hard on her knees. Grunting slightly, she stood up gingerly and surveyed the damage. Her knee had been scrapped pretty badly, and was bleeding.
“If you keep holding us up, we’re going to be late, and we’ll have to come back again tomorrow night,” Draco said, after noticing that she wasn’t right behind him.
“Sod off, Malfoy. A warning about maybe needing shoes would have been helpful, you know. Then we wouldn’t have such problem with arriving places on time,” she whispered angrily. He backtracked a few steps, and stared down at her. She was such a small woman; the lengths of his robe hanging off of her, making her seem even smaller. The thin trail of blood on her knee seemed to shimmer in the moonlight and he noticed for the first time that she was attempting to walk the rough trail in bare feet. It was quite a pitiful sight, but he felt an indescribable urge to protect her, that she was delicate and fragile, and needed his protection.
Ginny was unnerved by the way that he was staring down at her, with a strange look in his eyes. He took a step towards her, which made her jump back slightly. Quickly, before she could even protest, he had swept her up and the next thing she knew, he had slung her over his shoulder, and was carrying on his way down the trail.
“Put me down this instant!” she squealed, trying to squirm free of his tight grasp. She couldn’t believe the nerve of this man!
“Stop fidgeting, or I’m going to drop you. We have to hurry,” he said. His arms had a tight hold on her waist, and Ginny knew that there was no way she could get free from him. A split second after she had stopped struggling, he finally set her down. With a toss of her head, she reached out and pushed Draco again, and he stumbled a bit to the side.
“Don’t you ever touch me again!” she whispered as forcefully as possible. And he laughed at her. “Malfoy, you dirty, rotten—”
“Be quiet, and just look,” he said, his hands taking her shoulders, and turning her in the opposite direction. They were on the edge of a clearing, and Ginny could make out the form of a handful of people, all standing around a fire with a small cauldron hanging over it. Ginny watched, frowning, as they formed a circle and began chanting something in a language she couldn’t understand. Suddenly, a streak of bright red light seemed to erupt from the fire, bathing the people in the clearing in the eerie light. Ginny gasped, and made a move to step forward. Draco held her back, wrapping his arm around her waist to restrain her.
“Don’t move, Weasley,” his whispered close to her ear, sending shivers down her back. She wriggled out of his grasp, and turned back to the scene before her.
“What are they doing? Are they wizards?” she asked quietly. They weren’t holding wands; this didn’t seem like any spell she had ever seen. Watching with sick fascination, Ginny watched as the light slowly dissipated, and one person bent down close to the fire, and tipped the cauldron, pouring its contents into a vial he was carrying. After that was done, the fire went out, the light gone from the clearing, and within a few minutes, the group had abandoned the clearing.
Stepping out of the protection of the tree line, Ginny walked toward the middle of the field, where the fire had been. Looking around, confused, she couldn’t figure out what had taken place. It wasn’t a spell and they hadn’t been brewing a potion (no potion she knew of would make that kind of light display), and this area looked as though it was well used, judging by the worn grassy circle surrounding the fire. Crouching down, she held a hand over where the fire had been. There was no heat left.
“What was that?” she asked, accusingly. This wasn’t the work of any type of magic she knew of, and she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had been the witness to the some sort of Dark magic ritual.
“It was a ritual. They made a healing potion, and they use each others energies to make it stronger,” he explained. Ginny shot up.
“But that’s…that’s impossible!”
“Not for Bulgarians. They use magic differently then we do. Things that we consider to be the workings of a Dark wizard…it’s not the same here. That’s why your deal will never work here. Your ideas of what is acceptable and what's not, are completely different from theirs,” he explained.
“That’s not possible. Dark magic is dark magic! What they just did…was Dark! It would never be allowed in Britain!”
“It may have just saved someone’s life!” Draco said, his voice raised.
“I don’t care, it’s still wrong!”
“What gives you the right to say if it’s wrong?”
“It’s just…it’s the way things are! You can’t just change the rules for one country! Look at You-Know-Who! What he did in Britain affected everyone in the wizarding world! Bulgaria was in as much danger as we were! And now you want us to turn a blind eye to what’s going on here?”
“You don’t understand what it’s like for them. It’s not Dark Magic to them. And a Dark Lord would never rise here, because they know how to control their power!” Draco yelled.
“But what happens when one person decides that they want more then what everyone else has? What happens when that person decides to take what he’s learned from his people and use it to hurt others?” Ginny demanded, incensed.
“That would not happen here!”
“And how do you know that? Is there any way you can prove that to me?”
“In time, Weasley, in time,” he drawled slowly, turning away from her.
“What do you mean, in time?” Ginny demanded, storming after him.
“For a bloody Griffyndor who can be friend Muggles, werewolves and who-know-what-else, you’re remarkably close-minded about this, Weasley. I didn’t expect that of you,” Draco said over his shoulder.
“You know nothing about me, Malfoy!” she yelled after him.
“I know a lot more than you think,” he said, spinning around to face her.
“Save it, Malfoy. I want to go home,” she said childishly, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Not before you agree to come back here, so you can learn more about the way that they work. Otherwise I’ll never endorse your agreement, and it will never pass. In fact, I’ll begin my own campaign to have it halted. I’ll get to all the countries you have committed and get them to refuse to sign it,” Draco threatened, dangerously.
“What is in this for you, Malfoy?” Ginny yelled. She was about to add more, when suddenly he reached down, his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. Before she could think, before she could even react, he was leaning over her, his eyes glinting dangerously. Bending down, he kissed her.
Slowly, Ginny realized what was happening and tried to push him away, but by then, her body had taken over, and was reacting without her consent. His arms pulled her closer to him, pressing her against her body, running his arms up her back. A hazy cloud seemed to cloud Ginny’s brain as her senses overloaded from the sensation caused by his touch.
And as soon as it had begun, he had drawn back. She stumbled backward, too stunned to even begin yelling at him.
“I’ll send instruction to your assistant. Be prepared tomorrow,” he said, shoving a book with a red cover into her hands. As she finally collected her wits and was about to respond with a scathing comment, she felt the ground under her feet begin to fade, and she cursed as the clearing disappeared and she found herself in her flat once again.
Damn it! He did it again! Ginny thought, furiously. Shaking slightly from the events of the evening, she vowed that she would get the last word even if it was the last thing she did. Glancing down at the book in her hands, she felt her anger dissipate slightly as curiosity took over. Bulgarian Wizards and their Magic was written in gold lettering across the front cover. Opened the obviously old volume, she pulled out a loose piece of parchment that had been stuck in the cover.
She read the message scrawled across the letter, crumpled it up and threw the book across the room. The note, written by Draco, said: Learn about something before you judge it. Isn’t that what you Griffyndor are always preaching? Pulling off Draco’s robe, she tossed it aside with scorn, her face flaming as she thought about how he’d just kissed her. She was furious with him; the indignity of him having the nerve to even touch her. You’re also mad at yourself because you enjoyed it, a voice inside her head protested. Ignoring it and choosing to blame him, she paced around her living room, attempting to vanquish the feel of his lips that still burned against hers. She nearly tripped over the book she had tossed aside. Staring at it for a moment, she picked it up. Opening the cover, she sat down on the couch and began to read.
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Chapter 8: Exposure
Blinking a few times, Ginny’s eyes quickly scanned her surroundings. She was suddenly cold, as a frigid breeze ripped through her hair, sending it into wild disarray. From what she could make out from the darkness, she was standing in some sort of forest. Thinking quickly, she assumed that the folder that had appeared on her desk was a Portkey and it had brought her to whoever had left it there.
Cursing, she realized that she did not have her wand with her. She was stranded, and helpless. She heard a noise behind her, and let out a shriek as she felt an arm brush her shoulder. Swinging her arms, she punched at whatever it was behind her, and pulled away, prepared to run. The arm shot back, grabbing her wrist, pulling her back. She was about to scream again when her attacker’s hand roughly covered her mouth.
“Don’t scream, Weasley. You’ll let everyone in Bulgaria know you’re here,” a cool voice whispered, beside her ear. Her eyes widened in shock. Shoving the man’s grip on her aside, she turned around, and saw who the voice belonged to. Malfoy.
“What the hell is going on, Malfoy?” she spat, her eyes blazing with her fury.
“You said you were going to take the bait. Here you go, Weasley. How else are you going to learn why you and Fudge are so wrong about them unless you see the Bulgarians for yourself?” he asked, his eyes glinting dangerously. For a split second, she stared at him in shock.
But that didn’t last. The next thing he knew, she reached out and pushed him backwards with a lot more force than a woman her size should reasonably have.
“You arrogant little git! How dare you just…Portkey me here without consulting me, without my permission!” she cried, as she pushed him again before he could gain his balance. He tumbled over, more shocked than anything. She spun away from him in anger, and began pacing around the small clearing, obviously enraged.
She’s fascinating, he couldn’t help but think, watching her as she worked through her anger. The clouds covering the moon had cleared, lighting the area with a pale light. Her hair, which was down for once, was blowing about the wind, mirroring her wild anger. The pale nightshirt she was wearing gave her skin an ethereal pale look, more so than usual. Draco blinked a few times, trying to figure out why she suddenly seemed so beautiful to him. He tried to look away, to shake the sight of her, but it was impossible. He was staring at her.
“Okay, Malfoy, what’s your plan? Let’s do what you brought me here to do, so I can get back to London. Since I don’t have my wand with me, I’m holding you fully responsible for my return,” she stated, clearly over her temper tantrum. It was startling how fast she could go from boiling temper to the cool negotiator that she was known for being.
“There are certain things you need to understand about Bulgaria before you proceed with this deal that you’re obsessed with. You’re here so I can show you what you need to understand,” he said, standing up, brushing the dirt from his robe.
“You couldn’t have picked a more convenient time, could you? Inconsiderate prat, I’m not even bloody dressed,” she said, hugging herself against the chill. Draco regarded her for a moment, as if wrestling with something. Then he pulled off his black robe and tossed to her.
“Here, put this on, then,” he said, as he started walking away. She was surprised.
“Aren’t you going to have to burn it now that a Weasley’s touched it?” she asked snidely, wrapping the robe around her. It was warm from Draco’s body, and ridiculously long for her. As she followed warily behind him, she was smugly pleased to see the ends dragging along the ground.
“It’s either that, or your shivering will alert everyone that you’re here. They aren’t too fond of strangers in these parts, especially strangers from the Ministry,” he said, as he walked expertly down a path. Ginny trailed behind, stumbling over the rough path, hindered by the darkness and the fact that her feet were bare.
“Great, Malfoy. I didn’t think you were out to get me killed,” she muttered grumpily as another stone bit into the bottom of her foot.
“You agreed to this. And I am shocked, what happened to that lovely little icy diplomat I met a few days ago in her office? The one who was so diplomatic she was willing to at least play nice to someone she clearly hates?”
“People who kidnap me right out of my own flat don’t deserve diplomacy—” Her curt reply was cut short by her tiny yelp of pain as tripped over an exposed tree root. She landed hard on her knees. Grunting slightly, she stood up gingerly and surveyed the damage. Her knee had been scrapped pretty badly, and was bleeding.
“If you keep holding us up, we’re going to be late, and we’ll have to come back again tomorrow night,” Draco said, after noticing that she wasn’t right behind him.
“Sod off, Malfoy. A warning about maybe needing shoes would have been helpful, you know. Then we wouldn’t have such problem with arriving places on time,” she whispered angrily. He backtracked a few steps, and stared down at her. She was such a small woman; the lengths of his robe hanging off of her, making her seem even smaller. The thin trail of blood on her knee seemed to shimmer in the moonlight and he noticed for the first time that she was attempting to walk the rough trail in bare feet. It was quite a pitiful sight, but he felt an indescribable urge to protect her, that she was delicate and fragile, and needed his protection.
Ginny was unnerved by the way that he was staring down at her, with a strange look in his eyes. He took a step towards her, which made her jump back slightly. Quickly, before she could even protest, he had swept her up and the next thing she knew, he had slung her over his shoulder, and was carrying on his way down the trail.
“Put me down this instant!” she squealed, trying to squirm free of his tight grasp. She couldn’t believe the nerve of this man!
“Stop fidgeting, or I’m going to drop you. We have to hurry,” he said. His arms had a tight hold on her waist, and Ginny knew that there was no way she could get free from him. A split second after she had stopped struggling, he finally set her down. With a toss of her head, she reached out and pushed Draco again, and he stumbled a bit to the side.
“Don’t you ever touch me again!” she whispered as forcefully as possible. And he laughed at her. “Malfoy, you dirty, rotten—”
“Be quiet, and just look,” he said, his hands taking her shoulders, and turning her in the opposite direction. They were on the edge of a clearing, and Ginny could make out the form of a handful of people, all standing around a fire with a small cauldron hanging over it. Ginny watched, frowning, as they formed a circle and began chanting something in a language she couldn’t understand. Suddenly, a streak of bright red light seemed to erupt from the fire, bathing the people in the clearing in the eerie light. Ginny gasped, and made a move to step forward. Draco held her back, wrapping his arm around her waist to restrain her.
“Don’t move, Weasley,” his whispered close to her ear, sending shivers down her back. She wriggled out of his grasp, and turned back to the scene before her.
“What are they doing? Are they wizards?” she asked quietly. They weren’t holding wands; this didn’t seem like any spell she had ever seen. Watching with sick fascination, Ginny watched as the light slowly dissipated, and one person bent down close to the fire, and tipped the cauldron, pouring its contents into a vial he was carrying. After that was done, the fire went out, the light gone from the clearing, and within a few minutes, the group had abandoned the clearing.
Stepping out of the protection of the tree line, Ginny walked toward the middle of the field, where the fire had been. Looking around, confused, she couldn’t figure out what had taken place. It wasn’t a spell and they hadn’t been brewing a potion (no potion she knew of would make that kind of light display), and this area looked as though it was well used, judging by the worn grassy circle surrounding the fire. Crouching down, she held a hand over where the fire had been. There was no heat left.
“What was that?” she asked, accusingly. This wasn’t the work of any type of magic she knew of, and she had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she had been the witness to the some sort of Dark magic ritual.
“It was a ritual. They made a healing potion, and they use each others energies to make it stronger,” he explained. Ginny shot up.
“But that’s…that’s impossible!”
“Not for Bulgarians. They use magic differently then we do. Things that we consider to be the workings of a Dark wizard…it’s not the same here. That’s why your deal will never work here. Your ideas of what is acceptable and what's not, are completely different from theirs,” he explained.
“That’s not possible. Dark magic is dark magic! What they just did…was Dark! It would never be allowed in Britain!”
“It may have just saved someone’s life!” Draco said, his voice raised.
“I don’t care, it’s still wrong!”
“What gives you the right to say if it’s wrong?”
“It’s just…it’s the way things are! You can’t just change the rules for one country! Look at You-Know-Who! What he did in Britain affected everyone in the wizarding world! Bulgaria was in as much danger as we were! And now you want us to turn a blind eye to what’s going on here?”
“You don’t understand what it’s like for them. It’s not Dark Magic to them. And a Dark Lord would never rise here, because they know how to control their power!” Draco yelled.
“But what happens when one person decides that they want more then what everyone else has? What happens when that person decides to take what he’s learned from his people and use it to hurt others?” Ginny demanded, incensed.
“That would not happen here!”
“And how do you know that? Is there any way you can prove that to me?”
“In time, Weasley, in time,” he drawled slowly, turning away from her.
“What do you mean, in time?” Ginny demanded, storming after him.
“For a bloody Griffyndor who can be friend Muggles, werewolves and who-know-what-else, you’re remarkably close-minded about this, Weasley. I didn’t expect that of you,” Draco said over his shoulder.
“You know nothing about me, Malfoy!” she yelled after him.
“I know a lot more than you think,” he said, spinning around to face her.
“Save it, Malfoy. I want to go home,” she said childishly, crossing her arms in front of her.
“Not before you agree to come back here, so you can learn more about the way that they work. Otherwise I’ll never endorse your agreement, and it will never pass. In fact, I’ll begin my own campaign to have it halted. I’ll get to all the countries you have committed and get them to refuse to sign it,” Draco threatened, dangerously.
“What is in this for you, Malfoy?” Ginny yelled. She was about to add more, when suddenly he reached down, his arms around her waist, pulling her to him. Before she could think, before she could even react, he was leaning over her, his eyes glinting dangerously. Bending down, he kissed her.
Slowly, Ginny realized what was happening and tried to push him away, but by then, her body had taken over, and was reacting without her consent. His arms pulled her closer to him, pressing her against her body, running his arms up her back. A hazy cloud seemed to cloud Ginny’s brain as her senses overloaded from the sensation caused by his touch.
And as soon as it had begun, he had drawn back. She stumbled backward, too stunned to even begin yelling at him.
“I’ll send instruction to your assistant. Be prepared tomorrow,” he said, shoving a book with a red cover into her hands. As she finally collected her wits and was about to respond with a scathing comment, she felt the ground under her feet begin to fade, and she cursed as the clearing disappeared and she found herself in her flat once again.
Damn it! He did it again! Ginny thought, furiously. Shaking slightly from the events of the evening, she vowed that she would get the last word even if it was the last thing she did. Glancing down at the book in her hands, she felt her anger dissipate slightly as curiosity took over. Bulgarian Wizards and their Magic was written in gold lettering across the front cover. Opened the obviously old volume, she pulled out a loose piece of parchment that had been stuck in the cover.
She read the message scrawled across the letter, crumpled it up and threw the book across the room. The note, written by Draco, said: Learn about something before you judge it. Isn’t that what you Griffyndor are always preaching? Pulling off Draco’s robe, she tossed it aside with scorn, her face flaming as she thought about how he’d just kissed her. She was furious with him; the indignity of him having the nerve to even touch her. You’re also mad at yourself because you enjoyed it, a voice inside her head protested. Ignoring it and choosing to blame him, she paced around her living room, attempting to vanquish the feel of his lips that still burned against hers. She nearly tripped over the book she had tossed aside. Staring at it for a moment, she picked it up. Opening the cover, she sat down on the couch and began to read.
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