It was nearing the end of the year and exams were finally over. The entire student body was enjoying the warm sunshine, including Ginny. She lounged lazily at the base of a tree. Beams of sunlight glinted off the glassy surface of the lake; wind whipped the branches above her. She let her eyes drift shut and enjoyed the breeze on her cheeks and the flashes of light that flickered over her closed lids, dancing and blinking a wildly vivid picture that only she could interpret.
The air drifting over the lake had the tangy smell of freshly melted snow. It tickled her nose pleasantly. A small, contented smile settled itself on her lips.
“Ginny?” Hermione asked beside her.
Ginny’s smile broadened a bit in response. “Mmm?”
“Ron and I thought we might take a walk. Would you like to come?”
Ginny chuckled a little. “Oh, I don’t think so, Hermione.” She could think of nothing she would like better than staying right where she was. Especially not tagging along behind her brother, knowing the entire time that he and Hermione would rather be alone.
“Are you sure?” Hermione countered with a slightly anxious lilt to her voice. “We’re a bit far from the castle and Harry has run off to play Quidditch.”
Ever since Fred and George had graduated and left Hogwarts, Ron and his friends had appointed themselves Ginny’s unofficial guard. It had gotten to the point where Ginny could barely walk to her classes without one of them shadowing her. It would either be Ron, pacing a few feet ahead of her, encouraging her to jog to keep his long-legged pace or Hermione at her side chatting animatedly about things that Ginny didn’t understand.
She liked it best when Harry was left on Ginny-duty, as she had come to think of it. He would linger just a few paces behind her, sometimes walking silently or other times engaging her in conversation about superficial things like Quidditch or classwork or the latest Witch’s Weekly articles about them. They would share a laugh about the assumptions that were made about their relationship. But at least Harry would pretend that he walked with her because he wanted to, not out of some obligation to baby-sit his best friend’s flighty and feeble sister.
Opening her eyes just a sliver, Ginny looked up at Hermione. The sun had left golden highlights in the coarse, brown curls that wisped wildly around her blushing face. She looked half hopeful and half nervous. “Hermione, I’m sure I can find my way back up to the castle,” Ginny told her reasonably. She might have added that she was not, in fact, a complete invalid or mental deficient, but she had no desire to be unkind to the other girl.
“Well, of course you can,” Hermione placated. “I just thought you might prefer to have some company.”
“Thank you, Hermione. That’s very thoughtful. But I think it would be very pleasant to have a few moments alone,” Ginny said. She shut her eyes again, with a small sigh. The wind had lifted strands of her hair and it tickled teasingly at her uplifted chin.
“Ginny?”
“Yes, Hermione?”
“Did you know that, sometimes, I envy you?”
The sun was a bit bright at that moment, and so Ginny did not open her eyes, but she raised her brows. “Why would you do that?”
“You always have this air of tranquility about you. And no matter how much we pester you and hover around you, you seem completely imperturbable. It would drive me mad with agitation. I just get this sense that you’re always laughing at a joke no one knows the punchline to,” Hermione explained breathlessly.
Emotions seemed to battle within Ginny’s breast. She felt that she had just been equal parts complimented and insulted. Sometimes Hermione Granger’s canny insights discomfited her deeply. Oh, the other girl would never really understand Ginny, but she saw more than anyone knew.
Ginny wasn’t really sure how to respond. She opened her mouth to speak, but was saved from having to respond when her brother interrupted the conversation. “You two ready?” he asked.
When had Ron’s voice become so gruff, she wondered. Her brother sounded like a man now. What had she and Hermione just been talking about?
“Ginny’s not coming, Ron,” Hermione said.
The air around Ginny shifted and she realized it was because Hermione had risen to her feet. “You sure, Gin-Bean?” Ron asked, his childish nickname for her conflicting with that new grown-up voice of his.
“Yes, Ronnikins,” she breathed, half-laughing and half-exasperated. “I’ll be fine. You two trot off and find some place to snog.”
“Oi!” Ron cried. She heard Hermione stifle a giggle.
“Come on, Ronnikins,” Hermione teased. Ginny could picture the other girl tugging at his hand while he shot a baleful look at his sister. Ginny had a fantastic imagination and she laughed at the picture of her affronted brother.
With the departure of her brother and his girlfriend, Ginny relaxed even further. The grass beneath her back was still cool and damp, seeping into her robes where the angles of her shoulder blades pressed into the ground. One arm was folded under her head in a mock pillow and she twisted a curl of her hair around the fingers of her other hand. The aloneness was a rare treat that she wanted to savor completely. To just let her mind clear completely of all its humming activity was near blissful.
The sun was no longer flickering playful swirls of color against her closed eyelids. The air around her cooled with its loss. There was a slight rustle of sound near the crown of her head and she blinked her eyes open, letting them adjust to the light. Draco Malfoy was crouching above her.
“Oh!” she cried with surprise, rushing up into a sitting position and twisting her body around to look at the blond Slytherin boy. Her palms pressed against the grass to keep her steady as her smallish smile broadened. “Hello,” she greeted.
His lips tilted up at one corner. She never saw him smile, but this particular smirk seemed a little less sneery than usual. “Hello,” he parroted, with a hint of amusement.
Pulling her legs up a little, she let herself settle in for a good, long stare. He was crouched in the grass, his left arm between his knees, the fingers splayed on the ground to steady his precarious position. It had been quite some time, she wasn’t quite sure how long as she had a hard time thinking in terms of hours or days or weeks, since she’d been able to look this close up.
The memories of that night in the stairway washed over her, pressed against him, his skin under her tongue, the swollen ridges of the Dark Mark scar rasping under the gentle touch of her fingers. He really was a divine creature. His features were too fine to be considered classically handsome, too sharp to be considered pretty, but there was a sort of cold beauty to the way they all blended together.
A laugh bubbled up from deep in her chest. He was staring just as baldly back at her. There was something hot lingering in the shuttered gray gaze that took her in. “Why don’t you sit down before you fall down?” she asked and reached out to pull at the hand he was using to steady himself.
With a surprised huff, he fell forward onto his knees and looked down at the grass with distaste before bringing his gaze back to her. She hadn’t released his wrist. “I haven’t spoken to you in weeks and already you are ruining my favorite trousers,” he commented dryly, shifting uncomfortably against the damp grass.
“Has it been weeks?” Ginny asked, a little wonderingly. How did she manage to lose the time? Certainly, there had been days and nights when she had wondered if she would ever speak with him again. If they would ever share another, strangely comfortable and intimate moment. But had those days added up to multiples of seven?
“Yes,” Draco answered irritably, scooting closer to her until his left knee was wedged between both of her. She sat back on her legs, looking up at him. “You’re impossible to get alone.”
She sighed her commiseration. “I know. My brother is rather protective of me,” she explained.
“Protective? He’s an obsessive compulsive! Why must he and his band of Mudbloods shadow your every step?”
Ginny decided to ignore the derogatory comment and dragged his hand into her lap, trailing her fingertips over the back, where a tracery of veins and tendons and knuckles raised the thin, pale skin. “They care about me,” she explained, only half paying attention to her words, so engrossed by the slim-fingered hand she was holding.
Draco’s breath hitched at her gentle caresses. It was strange how such a simple and innocent touch could be so incredibly erotic.
“How much does Potter care about you?” he asked in a slightly more raspy voice.
Ginny’s eyes rose back to his, looking up at him through her lashes. She gave him a coy and playful smile. “Haven’t you read the articles? Apparently, he and I are madly in love and engaged to be married as soon as I’ve finished with school.”
Draco was momentarily unable to retort when Ginny slipped his silver cuff link out of its loop. Her fingers drifted up under the cuff of his shirt to drag over his forearm. She touched him with a calm fascination, as if she were enjoying the texture of him. The same way one might luxuriate in the feel of a fine satin or a thick fur coat. He had an embarrassingly persistent erection at this point and was suddenly furious with himself for forgoing his robes in favor of his lighter summer clothes.
“He certainly stays annoyingly close to you,” Draco finally managed to mutter, unwilling to abandon his line of questioning. “But he never touches. I think I might have killed him if I saw him touching you.”
“Would you really?” Ginny asked, her fingers stilling as she looked up at him with her wide, saucer-like eyes. Draco remembered once thinking that she looked a bit vacant and wondered how he could have been so hugely mistaken. There were safely guarded secrets hidden behind those serene orbs that were turned up to him now.
He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. “I want you,” he said in a husky bedroom voice that he hardly recognized as his own. “I don’t want anyone else to have you.”
“Why?” she asked curiously.
Draco rolled his head against hers languidly. How could he explain to her that he felt like she was the only person who really knew him? She saw what he was being forced to become and she hadn’t flinched back from him. But neither had she been morbidly excited by his darkness. She was simply and calmly accepting. It was blissfully relaxing to be in her company. But more to the point, he was sure that he was the only person who could truly appreciate her. The protectiveness he felt towards this tiny, crazy creature was fierce, yet humbling.
“Because…” he paused to let his lips slide briefly against hers. “I think you might be able to love me.”
Her free hand came up and cupped his cheek. It was a painfully tender gesture that made him press closer, achingly.
“Well, then…” she mumbled and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. Draco turned to catch her kiss fully. He grabbed her at the waist and twisted them until he was able to press her back down against the grass, sliding one of his legs between hers.
“Oh, my goodness,” she gasped against his lips and he smiled against hers in response.
His kisses were slow and coaxing, gentle and firm at the same time. For her part, Ginny became pliable in his arms, her fingers threaded in his fine hair. He thought she might protest when he pressed his hardness against her hip, but she only made a small sound in the back of her throat.
The hand that was cupping her cheek slid down her neck to linger at her throat. There was the strange urge in him to tighten his grip and hurt her a little, just to see if she would let him. He quashed the impulse immediately.
“Draco, please,” she murmured in his ear, her breath hot and ragged against his skin. There was a nervous tremor in her voice that broke through the haze of his desire and he pushed himself up on one elbow to look down at her.
When he pulled away, her eyes fluttered open to look up at him. She looked confused and troubled and he brought his finger tip up to brush away the worry lines.
“You’re so lovely, Ginny,” he told her in a soft voice. “I’d like to dress you in silks and silver. Will you let me put jewels at your neck or will you be too proud?”
Ginny blinked her owlish eyes at him and they shone with lucidity. Suddenly she went from looking like a fragile doll to a knowing woman. “They won’t let us be together, Draco,” she said astutely.
“Do you want me, Ginny?” he asked. It took all of his cool Slytherin resolve to keep his voice from being imploring and needy. “If you say ‘yes’, I’ll make all of the hard decisions for you. I’ll take care of you.”
Her eyes rolled away from his and she stared off at something behind his head. The leaves in the tree above them? Or maybe a patch of now graying sky. “Draco,” she finally said. “Draco. Draco.” He hummed with pleasure against her neck at the sound of his name being so tenderly caressed by her voice. “I like the taste of your name.”
“I like the taste of your neck,” he whispered before sucking at the skin with his lips and tongue.
“I have to tell you something,” she said in a resolute voice.
Parts of Draco’s body were aching from kisses and touches, but she pushed at his chest and he relented, rolling off her with a sigh of frustration.
Ginny rolled her head away from him and spoke to the air. “I don’t know how to explain, I get so confused.”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” he suggested, hoping they could go back to kissing and fondling. He doubted it would be very hard to distract her.
“No, you need to know what you’re promising to take on,” she said. “There are parts of me missing. Something bad happened to me and they tried to take it out of me, the Healers, but there was too much and they couldn’t get it all. After the treatments, the nightmares went away, but so did parts of me. Percy told me. He wasn’t supposed to, but he was furious. And I don’t know why. I don’t know… well, I can’t remember much of anything before my fourth year.”
Draco stared at the back of her copper-colored head while she spoke and, when she finished, everything fell into place. After the Chamber of Secrets, Ginny must have been plagued with nightmares. Seeking to cure their daughter, the Weasleys had had her memory modified. But he knew that procedures like that were dangerous. You can’t remove too many of a person’s memories without causing serious permanent damage to their psyche.
He’d never had the experience of being grateful to a Weasley for their pure stupidity, but at that very moment, he wanted to kiss both of her parents’ great dundering heads for having those memory modifications preformed on Ginny. He felt sure that if they hadn’t, he would not be having this conversation with her now. She would never have let him touch her.
Draco turned and curved his body around her back, slipping an arm around her waist. He nuzzled away the hair that was gathering in the crook of her neck and placed an almost-chaste kiss on the skin of her jaw.
“They broke you, Ginny,” he explained rationally. “It’s your parents’ fault that you are the way you are.”
“But why,” she croaked and convulsed with a sob. “Don’t they love me?”
“Sure they love you,” he said soothingly, reaching up to catch a tear that zig-zagged down her face. “But they couldn’t accept you, Ginny. Not the way I can.”
“You’re a Death Eater!” Ginny cried accusingly, but she still didn’t struggle against his hold on her.
Draco thought for a moment. “Yes, I am. Because my parents betrayed me too. We’re both a complete mess. That’s why we’re so perfect for each other.”
For a few moments, Ginny’s breath kept hitching, like she was fighting off the urge to go into an all-out crying jag. Eventually, she was able to calm herself. Draco had waited patiently. She finally turned in his arms and pressed her forehead against his again. “How can you want me?” she asked in a tiny voice.
“Don’t think less of me for wanting you, Ginny,” he warned.
“I don’t,” she assured him. She paused and he could tell that she was thinking very hard to bring up the words she wanted to express to him. “What would you do with me, if I let you have me?”
Something inside of Draco trilled with victory and longing. “I would cherish you,” he vowed.
“Kiss me again, soft and sweet,” she commanded and he obeyed her. As his tongue slipped past her lips, Draco’s eyes fell closed. He’d finally found something that he could call all his own. And he would never, never let her go.
The air drifting over the lake had the tangy smell of freshly melted snow. It tickled her nose pleasantly. A small, contented smile settled itself on her lips.
“Ginny?” Hermione asked beside her.
Ginny’s smile broadened a bit in response. “Mmm?”
“Ron and I thought we might take a walk. Would you like to come?”
Ginny chuckled a little. “Oh, I don’t think so, Hermione.” She could think of nothing she would like better than staying right where she was. Especially not tagging along behind her brother, knowing the entire time that he and Hermione would rather be alone.
“Are you sure?” Hermione countered with a slightly anxious lilt to her voice. “We’re a bit far from the castle and Harry has run off to play Quidditch.”
Ever since Fred and George had graduated and left Hogwarts, Ron and his friends had appointed themselves Ginny’s unofficial guard. It had gotten to the point where Ginny could barely walk to her classes without one of them shadowing her. It would either be Ron, pacing a few feet ahead of her, encouraging her to jog to keep his long-legged pace or Hermione at her side chatting animatedly about things that Ginny didn’t understand.
She liked it best when Harry was left on Ginny-duty, as she had come to think of it. He would linger just a few paces behind her, sometimes walking silently or other times engaging her in conversation about superficial things like Quidditch or classwork or the latest Witch’s Weekly articles about them. They would share a laugh about the assumptions that were made about their relationship. But at least Harry would pretend that he walked with her because he wanted to, not out of some obligation to baby-sit his best friend’s flighty and feeble sister.
Opening her eyes just a sliver, Ginny looked up at Hermione. The sun had left golden highlights in the coarse, brown curls that wisped wildly around her blushing face. She looked half hopeful and half nervous. “Hermione, I’m sure I can find my way back up to the castle,” Ginny told her reasonably. She might have added that she was not, in fact, a complete invalid or mental deficient, but she had no desire to be unkind to the other girl.
“Well, of course you can,” Hermione placated. “I just thought you might prefer to have some company.”
“Thank you, Hermione. That’s very thoughtful. But I think it would be very pleasant to have a few moments alone,” Ginny said. She shut her eyes again, with a small sigh. The wind had lifted strands of her hair and it tickled teasingly at her uplifted chin.
“Ginny?”
“Yes, Hermione?”
“Did you know that, sometimes, I envy you?”
The sun was a bit bright at that moment, and so Ginny did not open her eyes, but she raised her brows. “Why would you do that?”
“You always have this air of tranquility about you. And no matter how much we pester you and hover around you, you seem completely imperturbable. It would drive me mad with agitation. I just get this sense that you’re always laughing at a joke no one knows the punchline to,” Hermione explained breathlessly.
Emotions seemed to battle within Ginny’s breast. She felt that she had just been equal parts complimented and insulted. Sometimes Hermione Granger’s canny insights discomfited her deeply. Oh, the other girl would never really understand Ginny, but she saw more than anyone knew.
Ginny wasn’t really sure how to respond. She opened her mouth to speak, but was saved from having to respond when her brother interrupted the conversation. “You two ready?” he asked.
When had Ron’s voice become so gruff, she wondered. Her brother sounded like a man now. What had she and Hermione just been talking about?
“Ginny’s not coming, Ron,” Hermione said.
The air around Ginny shifted and she realized it was because Hermione had risen to her feet. “You sure, Gin-Bean?” Ron asked, his childish nickname for her conflicting with that new grown-up voice of his.
“Yes, Ronnikins,” she breathed, half-laughing and half-exasperated. “I’ll be fine. You two trot off and find some place to snog.”
“Oi!” Ron cried. She heard Hermione stifle a giggle.
“Come on, Ronnikins,” Hermione teased. Ginny could picture the other girl tugging at his hand while he shot a baleful look at his sister. Ginny had a fantastic imagination and she laughed at the picture of her affronted brother.
With the departure of her brother and his girlfriend, Ginny relaxed even further. The grass beneath her back was still cool and damp, seeping into her robes where the angles of her shoulder blades pressed into the ground. One arm was folded under her head in a mock pillow and she twisted a curl of her hair around the fingers of her other hand. The aloneness was a rare treat that she wanted to savor completely. To just let her mind clear completely of all its humming activity was near blissful.
The sun was no longer flickering playful swirls of color against her closed eyelids. The air around her cooled with its loss. There was a slight rustle of sound near the crown of her head and she blinked her eyes open, letting them adjust to the light. Draco Malfoy was crouching above her.
“Oh!” she cried with surprise, rushing up into a sitting position and twisting her body around to look at the blond Slytherin boy. Her palms pressed against the grass to keep her steady as her smallish smile broadened. “Hello,” she greeted.
His lips tilted up at one corner. She never saw him smile, but this particular smirk seemed a little less sneery than usual. “Hello,” he parroted, with a hint of amusement.
Pulling her legs up a little, she let herself settle in for a good, long stare. He was crouched in the grass, his left arm between his knees, the fingers splayed on the ground to steady his precarious position. It had been quite some time, she wasn’t quite sure how long as she had a hard time thinking in terms of hours or days or weeks, since she’d been able to look this close up.
The memories of that night in the stairway washed over her, pressed against him, his skin under her tongue, the swollen ridges of the Dark Mark scar rasping under the gentle touch of her fingers. He really was a divine creature. His features were too fine to be considered classically handsome, too sharp to be considered pretty, but there was a sort of cold beauty to the way they all blended together.
A laugh bubbled up from deep in her chest. He was staring just as baldly back at her. There was something hot lingering in the shuttered gray gaze that took her in. “Why don’t you sit down before you fall down?” she asked and reached out to pull at the hand he was using to steady himself.
With a surprised huff, he fell forward onto his knees and looked down at the grass with distaste before bringing his gaze back to her. She hadn’t released his wrist. “I haven’t spoken to you in weeks and already you are ruining my favorite trousers,” he commented dryly, shifting uncomfortably against the damp grass.
“Has it been weeks?” Ginny asked, a little wonderingly. How did she manage to lose the time? Certainly, there had been days and nights when she had wondered if she would ever speak with him again. If they would ever share another, strangely comfortable and intimate moment. But had those days added up to multiples of seven?
“Yes,” Draco answered irritably, scooting closer to her until his left knee was wedged between both of her. She sat back on her legs, looking up at him. “You’re impossible to get alone.”
She sighed her commiseration. “I know. My brother is rather protective of me,” she explained.
“Protective? He’s an obsessive compulsive! Why must he and his band of Mudbloods shadow your every step?”
Ginny decided to ignore the derogatory comment and dragged his hand into her lap, trailing her fingertips over the back, where a tracery of veins and tendons and knuckles raised the thin, pale skin. “They care about me,” she explained, only half paying attention to her words, so engrossed by the slim-fingered hand she was holding.
Draco’s breath hitched at her gentle caresses. It was strange how such a simple and innocent touch could be so incredibly erotic.
“How much does Potter care about you?” he asked in a slightly more raspy voice.
Ginny’s eyes rose back to his, looking up at him through her lashes. She gave him a coy and playful smile. “Haven’t you read the articles? Apparently, he and I are madly in love and engaged to be married as soon as I’ve finished with school.”
Draco was momentarily unable to retort when Ginny slipped his silver cuff link out of its loop. Her fingers drifted up under the cuff of his shirt to drag over his forearm. She touched him with a calm fascination, as if she were enjoying the texture of him. The same way one might luxuriate in the feel of a fine satin or a thick fur coat. He had an embarrassingly persistent erection at this point and was suddenly furious with himself for forgoing his robes in favor of his lighter summer clothes.
“He certainly stays annoyingly close to you,” Draco finally managed to mutter, unwilling to abandon his line of questioning. “But he never touches. I think I might have killed him if I saw him touching you.”
“Would you really?” Ginny asked, her fingers stilling as she looked up at him with her wide, saucer-like eyes. Draco remembered once thinking that she looked a bit vacant and wondered how he could have been so hugely mistaken. There were safely guarded secrets hidden behind those serene orbs that were turned up to him now.
He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against hers. “I want you,” he said in a husky bedroom voice that he hardly recognized as his own. “I don’t want anyone else to have you.”
“Why?” she asked curiously.
Draco rolled his head against hers languidly. How could he explain to her that he felt like she was the only person who really knew him? She saw what he was being forced to become and she hadn’t flinched back from him. But neither had she been morbidly excited by his darkness. She was simply and calmly accepting. It was blissfully relaxing to be in her company. But more to the point, he was sure that he was the only person who could truly appreciate her. The protectiveness he felt towards this tiny, crazy creature was fierce, yet humbling.
“Because…” he paused to let his lips slide briefly against hers. “I think you might be able to love me.”
Her free hand came up and cupped his cheek. It was a painfully tender gesture that made him press closer, achingly.
“Well, then…” she mumbled and pressed her lips to the corner of his mouth. Draco turned to catch her kiss fully. He grabbed her at the waist and twisted them until he was able to press her back down against the grass, sliding one of his legs between hers.
“Oh, my goodness,” she gasped against his lips and he smiled against hers in response.
His kisses were slow and coaxing, gentle and firm at the same time. For her part, Ginny became pliable in his arms, her fingers threaded in his fine hair. He thought she might protest when he pressed his hardness against her hip, but she only made a small sound in the back of her throat.
The hand that was cupping her cheek slid down her neck to linger at her throat. There was the strange urge in him to tighten his grip and hurt her a little, just to see if she would let him. He quashed the impulse immediately.
“Draco, please,” she murmured in his ear, her breath hot and ragged against his skin. There was a nervous tremor in her voice that broke through the haze of his desire and he pushed himself up on one elbow to look down at her.
When he pulled away, her eyes fluttered open to look up at him. She looked confused and troubled and he brought his finger tip up to brush away the worry lines.
“You’re so lovely, Ginny,” he told her in a soft voice. “I’d like to dress you in silks and silver. Will you let me put jewels at your neck or will you be too proud?”
Ginny blinked her owlish eyes at him and they shone with lucidity. Suddenly she went from looking like a fragile doll to a knowing woman. “They won’t let us be together, Draco,” she said astutely.
“Do you want me, Ginny?” he asked. It took all of his cool Slytherin resolve to keep his voice from being imploring and needy. “If you say ‘yes’, I’ll make all of the hard decisions for you. I’ll take care of you.”
Her eyes rolled away from his and she stared off at something behind his head. The leaves in the tree above them? Or maybe a patch of now graying sky. “Draco,” she finally said. “Draco. Draco.” He hummed with pleasure against her neck at the sound of his name being so tenderly caressed by her voice. “I like the taste of your name.”
“I like the taste of your neck,” he whispered before sucking at the skin with his lips and tongue.
“I have to tell you something,” she said in a resolute voice.
Parts of Draco’s body were aching from kisses and touches, but she pushed at his chest and he relented, rolling off her with a sigh of frustration.
Ginny rolled her head away from him and spoke to the air. “I don’t know how to explain, I get so confused.”
“You don’t have to explain anything,” he suggested, hoping they could go back to kissing and fondling. He doubted it would be very hard to distract her.
“No, you need to know what you’re promising to take on,” she said. “There are parts of me missing. Something bad happened to me and they tried to take it out of me, the Healers, but there was too much and they couldn’t get it all. After the treatments, the nightmares went away, but so did parts of me. Percy told me. He wasn’t supposed to, but he was furious. And I don’t know why. I don’t know… well, I can’t remember much of anything before my fourth year.”
Draco stared at the back of her copper-colored head while she spoke and, when she finished, everything fell into place. After the Chamber of Secrets, Ginny must have been plagued with nightmares. Seeking to cure their daughter, the Weasleys had had her memory modified. But he knew that procedures like that were dangerous. You can’t remove too many of a person’s memories without causing serious permanent damage to their psyche.
He’d never had the experience of being grateful to a Weasley for their pure stupidity, but at that very moment, he wanted to kiss both of her parents’ great dundering heads for having those memory modifications preformed on Ginny. He felt sure that if they hadn’t, he would not be having this conversation with her now. She would never have let him touch her.
Draco turned and curved his body around her back, slipping an arm around her waist. He nuzzled away the hair that was gathering in the crook of her neck and placed an almost-chaste kiss on the skin of her jaw.
“They broke you, Ginny,” he explained rationally. “It’s your parents’ fault that you are the way you are.”
“But why,” she croaked and convulsed with a sob. “Don’t they love me?”
“Sure they love you,” he said soothingly, reaching up to catch a tear that zig-zagged down her face. “But they couldn’t accept you, Ginny. Not the way I can.”
“You’re a Death Eater!” Ginny cried accusingly, but she still didn’t struggle against his hold on her.
Draco thought for a moment. “Yes, I am. Because my parents betrayed me too. We’re both a complete mess. That’s why we’re so perfect for each other.”
For a few moments, Ginny’s breath kept hitching, like she was fighting off the urge to go into an all-out crying jag. Eventually, she was able to calm herself. Draco had waited patiently. She finally turned in his arms and pressed her forehead against his again. “How can you want me?” she asked in a tiny voice.
“Don’t think less of me for wanting you, Ginny,” he warned.
“I don’t,” she assured him. She paused and he could tell that she was thinking very hard to bring up the words she wanted to express to him. “What would you do with me, if I let you have me?”
Something inside of Draco trilled with victory and longing. “I would cherish you,” he vowed.
“Kiss me again, soft and sweet,” she commanded and he obeyed her. As his tongue slipped past her lips, Draco’s eyes fell closed. He’d finally found something that he could call all his own. And he would never, never let her go.
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