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Ginny knew where she was going. She had been there before. She loved the place, because it felt so alone, and so peaceful, and yet she knew that its past was quite dark and scary.
She also knew that it wasn’t haunted, despite what the other kids said, so she felt perfectly comfortable going there alone.
She made her way through the castle, avoiding the normal places where the teachers hung out. She avoided the floor with the staffroom on completely, choosing to take a different set of stairs that led straight down to the ground floor. She watched from behind a suit of armour as Filch walked past, turning just before he got to her and disappearing into another part of the school.
She had got good at being silent.
She reached the main entrance and cast a quick “alohamora” on the locked door. Security wasn’t too tight these days, not now –he– had been defeated.
The door swung open and she almost cursed when it squeaked. No one came running, though, and she slipped out, pulling the great doors shut behind her.
She stepped onto the grass in front of the school, the early morning dew seeping through her canvas shoes. She padded across, leaving footsteps behind her, like a fairy’s feet, imprinted into the lawn.
She knew where she was going.
When she reached the whomping willow she looked up, thoughtful. She knew how to get past its whirling, swirling, pounding branches because Hermione had managed it a few years ago. She reached around for a long enough stick; she had left one here only the other day, and she hoped that no one had taken it.
When she had found what she had been looking for, she reached under the tree, dodging to avoid its attempts to pummel her into the ground, and tapped the knot of root. The tree froze and Ginny ducked under its branches quickly. It wouldn’t stay seduced for long.
She dropped down the hole by its roots into a long, dirty tunnel, which she had to crawl through on her hands and knees at first. Her clothes were dirty and her shoes near enough destroyed. If he wasn’t there when she got there, then he would really be in for it. When she found him. Because if he wasn’t here, then she would have no idea where he was.
There was a light at the end of the tunnel, which by this point had turned into a passage, about shoulder height, so she still had to bend her neck, despite not being that tall. The ceiling above her was getting higher, though, and by the time she emerged into the room, she was fully upright.
There was a boy sitting cross legged on the floor.
He was surrounded by candles, the only light source in the room, and his pointed face was in shadow.
“Draco,” said Ginny, stepping towards him. “I half expected you wouldn’t turn up.”
“Why wouldn’t I turn up?” asked Draco, standing up slowly.
He looked broken. His movements were weary, his hair unwashed and his skin dirty.
“What happened?” Ginny asked, rushing over.
“Mind the candles,” said Draco. He could barely even smirk anymore, he just smiled softly; it took less energy.
Ginny reached out a hand and touched his shoulder. His clothes were no more than rags.
“What happened?” she asked again.
Draco laughed. “Living rough isn’t easy, Ginevra,” he said.
Ginny frowned. “Why are you living rough?” She hadn’t expected this. She didn’t know what she had expected, but she hadn’t expected this.
“Ginny,” said Draco, “if I wasn’t living rough, I would have met you in the finest restaurant in the wizarding world, not a lonely shack in the tiny village of Hogsmeade. If I still had my wealth, I would have bought you the finest gift imaginable, not just a handful of candle stubs.”
“I don’t care,” said Ginny, reaching out her arms and embracing his cold, bony body. “I don’t want any of that. I only want you.”
Draco rested his head on top of Ginny’s, feeling her soft, red hair beneath his chin.
“I only want you as well, Ginny,” he said.
After a moment, Ginny pulled away. “Why have you chosen me?” she asked, a question which had been bugging her ever since the last time they had met; since the end of the battle.
“Ginevra, I’ve loved you for so much longer than the past few months. I’ve hated you, yes, but mostly I’ve loved you. I’ve envied Potter for having you, and all of those other Gryffindor imbeciles, who thought they could give you what you wanted…” He tailed off.
“I understand,” said Ginny, pulling him close again. “Will I see you again before Christmas?”
Since the end of the final battle, her only contact with Draco had been by owl, and even that had been scarce and fraught with risks.
“I’ll try and see you,” said Draco.
Ginny just looked at him. “You need more food,” she said, her heart aching for the wretch of a creature before her. He had once looked so strong, so powerful, and now he was no more than a tramp.
“I can make do,” said Draco. “I don’t take charity.”
“How is accepting food from your girl friend anything like taking charity?” Ginny snapped. Then she hugged him again. “I brought you a box of chocolate frogs,” she said, her voice softer now.
Draco took the box that she held out to him. It was a little squashed from its journey through the tunnel, but it would still be anything.
“Thank you,” he said, with some difficulty.
“It’s probably time for me to go,” said Ginny, reluctantly letting go of Draco. “I don’t want to be late back in.”
“For a moment I forgot you’re still a student,” said Draco, touching her face. “I’ll owl you, love.”
Ginny kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll see you soon? Please?” she said, and it sounded like a question, begging Draco’s confirmation.
“Of course,” he said softly. “I can hardly keep myself away from someone who asks so nicely.”
Ginny glanced back at the forlorn figure one last time before ducking back into the tunnel and hurrying towards the school.
She guessed that she was lucky; she hadn’t expected to see him this Valentine’s Day at all.
She also knew that it wasn’t haunted, despite what the other kids said, so she felt perfectly comfortable going there alone.
She made her way through the castle, avoiding the normal places where the teachers hung out. She avoided the floor with the staffroom on completely, choosing to take a different set of stairs that led straight down to the ground floor. She watched from behind a suit of armour as Filch walked past, turning just before he got to her and disappearing into another part of the school.
She had got good at being silent.
She reached the main entrance and cast a quick “alohamora” on the locked door. Security wasn’t too tight these days, not now –he– had been defeated.
The door swung open and she almost cursed when it squeaked. No one came running, though, and she slipped out, pulling the great doors shut behind her.
She stepped onto the grass in front of the school, the early morning dew seeping through her canvas shoes. She padded across, leaving footsteps behind her, like a fairy’s feet, imprinted into the lawn.
She knew where she was going.
When she reached the whomping willow she looked up, thoughtful. She knew how to get past its whirling, swirling, pounding branches because Hermione had managed it a few years ago. She reached around for a long enough stick; she had left one here only the other day, and she hoped that no one had taken it.
When she had found what she had been looking for, she reached under the tree, dodging to avoid its attempts to pummel her into the ground, and tapped the knot of root. The tree froze and Ginny ducked under its branches quickly. It wouldn’t stay seduced for long.
She dropped down the hole by its roots into a long, dirty tunnel, which she had to crawl through on her hands and knees at first. Her clothes were dirty and her shoes near enough destroyed. If he wasn’t there when she got there, then he would really be in for it. When she found him. Because if he wasn’t here, then she would have no idea where he was.
There was a light at the end of the tunnel, which by this point had turned into a passage, about shoulder height, so she still had to bend her neck, despite not being that tall. The ceiling above her was getting higher, though, and by the time she emerged into the room, she was fully upright.
There was a boy sitting cross legged on the floor.
He was surrounded by candles, the only light source in the room, and his pointed face was in shadow.
“Draco,” said Ginny, stepping towards him. “I half expected you wouldn’t turn up.”
“Why wouldn’t I turn up?” asked Draco, standing up slowly.
He looked broken. His movements were weary, his hair unwashed and his skin dirty.
“What happened?” Ginny asked, rushing over.
“Mind the candles,” said Draco. He could barely even smirk anymore, he just smiled softly; it took less energy.
Ginny reached out a hand and touched his shoulder. His clothes were no more than rags.
“What happened?” she asked again.
Draco laughed. “Living rough isn’t easy, Ginevra,” he said.
Ginny frowned. “Why are you living rough?” She hadn’t expected this. She didn’t know what she had expected, but she hadn’t expected this.
“Ginny,” said Draco, “if I wasn’t living rough, I would have met you in the finest restaurant in the wizarding world, not a lonely shack in the tiny village of Hogsmeade. If I still had my wealth, I would have bought you the finest gift imaginable, not just a handful of candle stubs.”
“I don’t care,” said Ginny, reaching out her arms and embracing his cold, bony body. “I don’t want any of that. I only want you.”
Draco rested his head on top of Ginny’s, feeling her soft, red hair beneath his chin.
“I only want you as well, Ginny,” he said.
After a moment, Ginny pulled away. “Why have you chosen me?” she asked, a question which had been bugging her ever since the last time they had met; since the end of the battle.
“Ginevra, I’ve loved you for so much longer than the past few months. I’ve hated you, yes, but mostly I’ve loved you. I’ve envied Potter for having you, and all of those other Gryffindor imbeciles, who thought they could give you what you wanted…” He tailed off.
“I understand,” said Ginny, pulling him close again. “Will I see you again before Christmas?”
Since the end of the final battle, her only contact with Draco had been by owl, and even that had been scarce and fraught with risks.
“I’ll try and see you,” said Draco.
Ginny just looked at him. “You need more food,” she said, her heart aching for the wretch of a creature before her. He had once looked so strong, so powerful, and now he was no more than a tramp.
“I can make do,” said Draco. “I don’t take charity.”
“How is accepting food from your girl friend anything like taking charity?” Ginny snapped. Then she hugged him again. “I brought you a box of chocolate frogs,” she said, her voice softer now.
Draco took the box that she held out to him. It was a little squashed from its journey through the tunnel, but it would still be anything.
“Thank you,” he said, with some difficulty.
“It’s probably time for me to go,” said Ginny, reluctantly letting go of Draco. “I don’t want to be late back in.”
“For a moment I forgot you’re still a student,” said Draco, touching her face. “I’ll owl you, love.”
Ginny kissed him on the cheek.
“I’ll see you soon? Please?” she said, and it sounded like a question, begging Draco’s confirmation.
“Of course,” he said softly. “I can hardly keep myself away from someone who asks so nicely.”
Ginny glanced back at the forlorn figure one last time before ducking back into the tunnel and hurrying towards the school.
She guessed that she was lucky; she hadn’t expected to see him this Valentine’s Day at all.
The End.
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