Chapter Seventeen:

She could have benefited from the type of research he’d done before venturing out into the Muggle world, the blond thought as he watched her fumble a little with her seatbelt as he came to a sudden stop in front of the Tonks’ home. Draco let out a small chuckle as she lurched forward with a quiet shriek and reached over obligingly to unfasten it for her. She tossed him a glare as she quickly exited the small sports car he had leased once he’d realized that he couldn’t very well cart her and their gear around on the back of his motorbike. He got out more slowly and watched her stomp tiredly into the house.

She’d been in a less than pleasant mood since that morning when he’d presented her with the solution he had come up with for their post-snakenapping get away. At first she’d simply looked at him as if he’d lost his bloody mind. His explanations and assurances had done nothing to persuade her that he wasn’t having her on. She’d been sure it was a sick joke and hadn’t been pleased with him about it. It wasn’t until he’d taken her to meet the former special ops soldier he’d hired to equip and train them that she’d started to believe him. Still, it had taken the other man several minutes to fully convince her the tactic was an authentic military method of extraction, if one only truly utilized by special forces units.

He’d barely held in his laughter at the wide-eyed look on her pale face when their instructor had explained the exact process they’d be learning. It was a very tricky technique, though they wouldn’t have to do anything too difficult. The pilot, on the other hand, would need to have an advanced and special skill set to pull it off. Good thing their instructor had the right skills and was more interested in his paycheck than in asking questions. Apparently, while the Malfoy fortune couldn’t buy his freedom in the Wizarding world, it could get himself, Weasley and Nagini from the cave to the closest landing strip, which might well amount to the same thing if this managed to help win the war for the Order.

Brushing aside that strangely unsatisfying thought, Draco followed the unhappy young woman into the house. He made it into the kitchen just as she was getting a bottle of water out of the fridge, closing the door a little harder than necessary as she turned to get a glass. The blond felt the corners of this mouth tilt up just a little as he suppressed the laugh that wanted to form at her actions. He simply couldn’t help but find her reactions to his plan a bit amusing. Even so, he was faced with a strange sensation as he caught a glimpse of her face and the genuine fear that shadowed it, just behind the almost sulky expression she wore. The Malfoy heir had the sudden urge to tell her that everything was going to be fine, that they’d be perfectly safe and she had nothing to worry about.

He pushed the foreign feelings aside with a mental roll of his eyes.

Weasley would be fine all on her own, he told himself. She’d been scared at the idea of rappelling into the cave shaft, and of parachuting from the plane, but the small redhead had gotten over her fear and managed to not only perform both actions, but to become proficient at them. She even seemed to have started to enjoy them, too. And all without a single complaint. Sure, the witch had protested rather loudly at the ideas when he’d first presented them, but once they had begun training, she’d cooperated completely, putting all her focus and effort into mastering each task. She hadn’t begged not to go, or even asked him to find another way. She hadn’t whined about having to practice over and over again, hadn’t moaned about being tired or sore when he knew she’d been in worse shape than he had throughout the process. All in all, she’d proven herself to be a lot less bothersome and annoying than he’d expected.

Draco got out his own water with a glance at the petite Gryffindor sitting at the table only a few feet away. Maybe she had proven more than just tolerable to work with. She caught on to things quickly, and seemed to possess a natural aptitude for the type of activities they were learning. And, if he had to be completely honest, once she got past her fears, she was a little fun to work with. Though the way she had a tendency to bite her lip and get really quiet and introspective right before trying a trick for the first time, as if she were giving herself a little mental pep-talk, was kind of fun to watch too. And not just because she was a Gryffindor and obviously scared silly. That part was funny, sure, but the part where she did what she needed to anyway, and usually with a glare at him first; that was the best part. Every time she did it, he could almost hear her voice in his head, telling him he could take his daredevil stunts and choke on them, because she was damn well going to do them, and do them just as well as he did.

She had spine, he had to give her that. Not that that came as a total shock, he had played against her on the Quidditch pitch, after all. The same athleticism that she showcased on a broom was evident when she scaled the faux rock wall, or jumped from an airplane. The same intense and borderline aggressive expression he’d seen her wear when barreling towards the goal hoops had more than once covered her face as she went through their lessons. She was more than a little competitive, in almost everything she did, a trait which seemed to him to only strengthen as they grew nearer to completing their training and therefore beginning their actual task for the Order. She took her role very seriously, he knew, and more than that, appeared to consider the task a type of personal mission. She got the most appealing look on her face when she was bent over the small notebook she kept to record their plans and progress in.

Draco blinked for a moment before opening his water and taking a long drink. She… the look she wore, he corrected, was appealing because it meant she was working diligently on the task at hand, one that although he never really asked for it, could mean the downfall of the evil psycho who was responsible for turning his life upside down and stranding him in the Muggle world. In the world where he had discovered unsuspected talents and interests and genuine friends he enjoyed spending time with. Friends she fit in with without any real effort though they weren’t her friends, and without him there to have introduced them, would probably have never met her in either the Muggle or Wizarding worlds. Despite how well they got along with the redhead, they were his friends, and however well she’d managed to fit within it, this was his life. Though having her there hadn’t really been all that much of a trial for him. She was decent entertainment, if nothing else.

She was just plain funny to watch when she was trying to puzzle out some unfamiliar Muggle gadget, after all. The way she scrunched up her nose and narrowed her eyes, nearly looking like she was glaring the small piece of electronics into submission; he liked to watch it. Her confusion and frustration were quite amusing to him, often leaving him with the need to suppress a smirk or laugh at her expense. He also enjoyed the way her eyes would go wide and a fierce grin curved her lips when she managed to work out how to operate whatever it was that had presented the latest challenge in her adaptation to Muggle life. Her excitement at her own success was starting to affect him as well, but in a way that was leaving him with a need to suppress something else all together.

The bottle paused for just a second as he lifted it for another drink. The thought almost stuttered in his head before he brushed it off with a mental shake. A sense of vague confusion as to the exact origin and meaning of that particular thought hung in the back of his mind, causing him to glance almost uneasily over at his houseguest. The glance revealed signs of exhaustion overtaking the anger and fear on her pale freckled features, a sight that nearly started to dissolve his lingering discomfort. Her pallor set off her sprinkling of freckles to a previously unnoticed degree, almost reminding him of the sprinkle of cinnamon he sometimes ordered on the white froth of his coffee.

The Slytherin took a large swallow of water. Way off target. Lack of sleep and a constant flow of adrenaline were starting to get to him. With another large swallow that had nothing to do with being thirsty, the blond set down his water and opened the fridge once more, focusing his attention on its contents as he spoke over his shoulder.

“Why don’t you go get some sleep so you’ll have the energy to be somewhat useful tomorrow?”

The words had contained a shadow of his own exhaustion and whether she heard it, or was simply too tired herself to respond, Ginny followed his advice with only a half-hearted, “Hmph, ” leaving him alone in the Tonks’ quiet kitchen.

Draco spent the next few minutes assembling a large sandwich for himself before carrying it with him up to his room, glancing almost absently at the room at the other end of the hall in which his relatives slept soundly. He didn’t glance at all at the closed door to the small sitting room slash library next to his bedroom where the pull out sofa had been designated as Ginny’s during her stay. He didn’t look at the wall separating their rooms even when the faint sound of whimpers drifted through it as he munched on his sandwich and prepared for bed. At least not until the sound began to reach a volume that he was sure would disturb any rest he might attempt to find. It would be a waste of time to try to sleep with that kind of racket going on. He really had no choice but to go over there and tell her to keep it down. He needed his sleep after all.

Clad in the comfortable flannel pants and t shirt he had purchased for himself about a month before, the young wizard covered the short distance from his door to hers and knocked a few times. When his actions failed to gain her attention enough to wake her, he stood silently for a moment, staring at the door before he reached for the knob and made his way inside. Another few seconds passed as he stood in the doorway and simply squinted into the dark interior at the sofa bed where he could make out the blanket covered lump that was emitting low murmurs and slightly louder whimpers.

Letting out a sigh, the blond walked swiftly across the soft carpet and only hesitated a moment before placing a hand on her nearest arm and giving it a slight shake. Pausing to see if she would finally wake, he sighed again and repeated the action, this time calling her name as well. He kept his voice soft, so as not to wake the Tonks' as well, not even wanting to think about the questions that would raise. Coral had been sending him enough strange looks when she returned from work to find he and Ginny ensconced on the front sofa, discussing how best to fine tune the plan.

Despite his best efforts, however, the witch remained soundly asleep and the distressed noises she was making only grew louder. Shaking her a little harder this time, Draco called her name softly a second time, making a face of his own as he watched her features contort into a pained expression. Annoying, that’s what this was, he decided as he quickly redoubled his efforts before she was able to make anymore such expressions or let out any more pitiful sounds.

“Weasley. Hey. Ginny!”

The last was barked out mere inches from her face, forcing him to jerk his head back as her eyes suddenly snapped open on a gasp. She blinked up at him for several seconds, as if waiting for her eyes to focus and he took the opportunity to straighten completely and shuffle back a few steps, his arm falling to his side.

“Draco?”

He nodded at her confused and ever so shaky question, then cleared his throat, not sure how well she would be able to see the gesture in the dark. “Yeah.”

He went to take another step away from her bed, felt the backs of his knees collide with a chair and instead sat down across from her, simply for convenience sake, he was tired and had spent much of the day on his feet. She didn’t seem to notice his actions, instead looking around her as if she wasn’t quite sure where she was. “What…?”

He shrugged his shoulder at the exclamation. “You were having a nightmare, I think,” he leaned forward, elbows on knees in a casual and completely unconcerned slouch.

Ginny seemed to stare at him for a few tense seconds, then swallowed with a nod of agreement or acknowledgement, he didn’t know. He shifted silently then, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest while nonchalantly looking over the contents of the desk he was currently sitting at. “Was it from…?”

He let the question hang, unfinished, but she hardly needed to hear the rest to know what he was asking, and responded with a stiff nod before looking away herself. “Not about the Horcruxes though,” her voice lowered even more than the soft tone she was already using. “It would be better if that was all he left, but there’s other stuff too. Memories, things he thought, or said, or did. It’s…”

This time it was she who trailed off and him who nodded, not needing an explanation to go with the drawn, haunted look on her pale face. “I met him once.”

It was all he needed to say as their eyes met briefly and they both lapsed into silence once more. The silence lasted several heavy moments before being broken by the blond quickly leaning forward, one pale hand darting out to give hers an awkward, halting pat where it lay on the dark blankets. She barely had time to blink at the unexpected action before he was on his feet and headed towards the door. His long strides froze for just a second as he reached the hallway, his words stilted as he turned back briefly.

“‘Night, Weasley.” His eyes landed on her long enough to catch the weak smile she sent in response, her voice carrying to him through the quiet room.

“Thanks.”

He paused again, and in the shadowed light, it almost looked to Ginny as if Draco Malfoy smiled at her before he stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind himself. His face was blank of all but a hint of puzzlement by the time he reached his own room, however. ‘Thank you’ was a standard phrase, an automatic response a person might hear a dozen times a day, but when she’d said it, abbreviated or not, it had sounded like she really meant it. It made him crinkle his pale brow as he settled into his bed.

As a Slytherin he’d had limited experience with sincerity, and it was somewhat disconcerting to receive it from someone who knew him as a Slytherin, especially when that person was one he knew as a Gryffindor. After the first few days of her stay, however, they hadn’t really treated one another as a Slytherin and a Gryffindor, though. More like reluctant allies, who had seemed to become not-so-reluctant partners in the last few weeks. Even so, he wasn’t sure how to take her thanks. With his housemates, he never would have received an acknowledgement of help because that would have been an acknowledgement that the person had needed help in the first place, which a Slytherin never did.

He’d been thanked by the new friends he’d made here, and by the relatives he was staying with more than once since he’d moved here, but that was different somehow. He wasn’t sure how or why, but a thank you from Ginny Weasley was different. More than just a thank you was different if he really thought about it. But he didn’t. And he certainly didn’t think about the fact that such differences somehow bothered him and that he was somehow completely okay with that. He needed his sleep, after all, and now that the redhead next door was finally quiet he could get that sleep. Which, once he turned out his bedside lamp, he did. Without a single glance towards the wall that separated his room from hers.

End Chapter Seventeen
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