Rating: PG-13, implied stuff
Summary: Ginny Weasley's a little different after a period of time spent in captivity and Draco Malfoy is the only one who can see.
Disclaimer: I own nothing in the Harry Potter universe. Suing me is not worthwhile. These aren't the droids you're looking for.
AN: Just a little short something somethign about Draco adn Ginny interacting after she's been caught by Death Eaters. I'm fairly satsisfied with this one - it's not very funny methinks, of course I wasn't aiming for funny...
Protections
Ginny spent the summer after her fifth year in captivity. It didn't show, at least not really, when she appeared for the beginning of the semester but he knew it all the same. And when you knew what you were looking for the signs were all too obvious.
The way Potter escorted her from classes whenever he could. The way she jumped when someone approached too quietly. The short red-gold curls growing out from a once shorn head where once long waves had flowed. The way the Gryffindor Trio treated her like fragile china - as if she might break if left to her own devices.
There were frequent visits to the hospital wing, and regular trips to the headmaster's office.
And just like the time of her caging, he couldn't do a thing.
He'd sat all summer in his own version of captivity while the fiery red head spent countless hours of pain in the cold levels beneath the manor. He'd developed his own network of spies; the house elves had unfailing loyalty to his mother and himself. Lucius, they'd whispered before slamming fingers in doors, was not worthy of their willing servitude.
But house elves couldn't make it down to the lower levels, they could only ferret the news to him. And the bait for Potter lived in filth and pain and torture while the Order of the Phoenix prevaricated pointlessly, waiting for the most opportune moment unwillingly to risk so much for what seemed so little. Oh they never said it, but their actions showed their schemes all too well.
Eventually they'd come, but Draco hadn't been there. His mother had whisked her son away, heading for France to visit her family – seeking shelter from his father and dark activities.
Dumbledore alone had some small confidence in Draco's profession of ignorance about the initial capture of the Weasley girl. The child of a known death eater who was too ambitious for his own good had made Draco Malfoy an outcast in his own house. Snubbed by Slytherins one and all.
The Seventh Year Prefect found himself with plenty of idle time on his hands to watch the Weasley girl. Plenty of time to learn her quirks, see what frightened her, and determine what could change her back into the girl she'd been once.
Ginny Weasley grew tired of the stares Tired of the suffocating flutterings of her self-proclaimed protectors. She grew tired of the frustrating, oh so subtle questions posed by Dumbledore.
The redheaded sixth year frowned to herself and her eyes narrowed fiercely. No, she didn't know what Voldemort was up to now. No her captivity had not served any useful purpose in her bringing the Order more information. What had they expected of her?!
She suspected the Order had made a decision to leave her in captivity longer. Or at least not to rescue her as soon as they could have.
There were the guilty looks of Harry, Ron and Hermione whenever the length of her imprisonment was mentioned, the interminable questions from the headmaster, and the increasingly the frigid attitude of her mother towards members of the Order. All served to bring Ginny's quick mind to the logical conclusion that they had been hoping that she'd be able to gain some knowledge about the Death Eater's movements.
She tried once or twice to throw off the protectiveness of the three elder friends, but when she'd ended up shaking and unable to move from an inexplicable terror, next to a distraught Myrtle in the girl's loo, she'd decided to wait a bit longer before venturing out and about on her own. But soon, soon, she promised herself, she'd throw off the sheltering of Ron, Harry and Hermione.
The first time she made her way to the library on her own, skittish as a lost first year, Draco had been assisting Madam Pince shelve books. The Slytherin House had offered him no sanctuary and he'd retreated to the library so often that the austere librarian had roped the cold young man into a position of library assistant.
"That poor girl." Madam Pince spoke softly from beside him, a calculating look in her eyes. "Left in your father's basement by the Order! She's retreating into a shell of hate and fear and no one's seen fit to keep her sane!" She made a noise of disgust, her position on the matter quite clear. Once she'd supported the Order. When they hadn't used the tactics of the Death Eaters to keep ahead.
Draco frowned. "The sacrifice of one for the good of the many. But for them, as long as Potter's safe that's all that counts!" He spat out scornfully and slammed a book onto the shelf in front him, obscuring the girl from his sight.
Madam Pince only nodded solemnly, neither agreeing nor disagreeing with his statement. The disapproval in her eyes spoke volumes about the rough treatment of her books.
The second and third time she came to the library he watched her through shelving units as she organized her quills again and again, while she fidgeted in her seat. The soft, happy murmur of other students immersed in quiet conversations calmed her only marginally. But each day she was on her own she was getting better. He could tell.
She looked haunted, he decided objectively, but there was a flash of something resembling defiance still hiding in the back of her eyes, a wilful spirit waiting to be brought forth once more. He was intrigued. He thought he could help.
Ginny had often caught his eyes on her since the beginning of the school year; the cool grey at first reminded Ginny of the senior Malfoy. She found it disturbing initially and thought he was watching her for signs of breaking. She irrationally supposed he was keeping an eye out for opportunities to bring her back to his father and her mind created horrific and absurd scenarios before she stopped herself.
Eventually rumours about his father's current state of imprisonment (her lips had curled in a grim mockery of a smile) and the fact that Draco and his mother had been in France for a lot of the summer filtered to her sheltered ears.
Slowly she began to watch him back. From a distance. She rationalized it by telling herself that if she could conquer a fear of the son, she could conquer her nightmares of his father that plagued her. After all, they were very similar physically.
The fourth time she made it to the library by herself after dinner, Harry and company getting a little weary of being an escort service, he approached the table.
Draco made sure she heard him coming, scuffing his shoes loudly, rattling the ancient book cart. He didn't want to startle her into flight. Green eyes flew up as he walked closer and then stopped. Watching the young man from a distance had been one thing but close proximity was another.
"I'm going to sit down. Over here." He said mildly in a tone that brooked no comment. The new library assistant indicated a chair on the other side of the table and three chairs down and she was absurdly grateful for the distance. He fell gracefully into the chair and she flinched at the languid movement – just like his father.
His smooth tones rolled over her and she shivered and tried to meet his eyes bravely. "Why are you watching me?"
Her eyes flashed angrily. Of all the stupid things! "You started it!" she spat out defiantly.
He allowed himself a private smile. Perhaps she would be easy to draw out of herself; perhaps she was ready to return from her fear and despair.
Madam Pince glance up and watched the two students distanced at the table, and allowed herself a small smile. The Malfoy boy could bring that girl back to robust mental health if no one else could. And she'd be good for him. Let him in on some rather brutal truths about the nature of the Dark Lord.
The solemn woman frowned again sorrowfully. The order had no right to do what they did by not rescuing her as soon as possible and then summarily discard her as unimportant but for the motions of care and concern. She decided she'd keep her eye on the two torn young adults, since no one else seemed to really care about their state of being.
The single-minded attitude of Dumbledore sometimes allowed for others to get overlooked, treated as pawns not people with feelings and large decisions in their futures. She sighed and returned to her books, casting a wary eye over the two young adults.
Draco smirked at her response and decided to be blunt. "I have to say, you're not quite the terrified girl I expected you to be after a summer in my father's dungeons." His eyes were hooded as he watched her.
Ginny flinched and sucked in a breath, her hands clenching wildly.
"What? Has no one been so frank about what happened to you as I am?" He didn't give her a chance to disappear behind her fear. "You're very strong for surviving, I must say that."
"You bloody…horrid…" She sputtered indignantly, sudden rage overcoming her fear at his arrogant tone.
He leaned forward conspiratorially. "Call me a bastard and you'll feel better."
Ginny paused. "Dirty bastard." She sneered at him. She felt better until she realized he looked satisfied.
Draco looked at her steadily for moment. "I wasn't there for most of the summer you know." His tone was bland, he didn't know if she would believe him.
"I… I heard that. I didn't know if it was true or not." The girl muttered quickly, feeling strangely guilty at the quick flare of, was that hurt on his face?
"I was locked in my quarters for the time I was at the Manor. I didn't know you were being held there until the house elves brought mother and I the news." He explained slowly and cautiously.
Ginny considered this information and the young man near her. He'd done nothing but antagonize her brother and friends throughout their school years, though they often provoked him first, she added truthfully. Irrationally she found herself wanting to believe him.
He wasn't treating her as she were glass and about to break. He'd touched darkness, she could tell. After all, so had she after her first year and this past summer. It was a facet of her that more people wanted to overlook than acknowledge, the lingering darkness that glimmered in her eyes. Or worse, exploit. Her lip curled at the thought of the Order and the shame and pain she'd undergone because they'd left her in the clutches of Draco's father.
Cool grey eyes were staring at her steadily. Waiting for some response. "I don't know if I can believe you." She said finally, lifting clear green eyes to him apologetically. "I don't know whom to trust anymore… Everyone I thought I could…" she trailed off and shrugged, a bitter smile on her face.
"Besides, you frighten me. You look a lot like… him." She couldn't help the shudder that rattled her slim body.
"Ah. And here we come upon the crux of the matter." Draco deduced correctly. "Well, here. I look more like my mother once you come up close, believe it or not. You come here and look."
Ginny stared at him as he ordered her to approach. Fear quaked through her.
"Come on Weasley. You'll never get over your fear of me, of him even, if you don't come here and see for yourself." Draco goaded her quickly.
Ginny shook her head mutely, eyes wide with trepidation and alarm. "I… I can't…"
He cocked a fine brow and sneered. "And here I thought all Gryffindors were supposed to be brave."
Her fear fled quickly at the well-aimed jibe and she scraped her chair back from the table violently. She stalked around the table stiffly and sat in a chair next to the blond haired boy. She was acutely aware of his greater stature and strength; even as he sprawled in the chair he had turned to face her.
The redhead banished the last remnants of her fear and concentrated wholeheartedly on comparing the man in front of her to the image of Lucius Malfoy seared in her mind.
He was looking at her from lidded eyes, his expression carefully neutral and blank.
"Hold out a hand." She said hoarsely. He obeyed and felt a little shock when her hand grasped his. She was trembling slightly as she inspected the digits and palm with her eyes and with her touch.
"You have calluses! And ink smears to rival Hermione's…" She murmured contemplatively, seeing and feeling sweaty, lily white hands with manicured nails in her mind. "Your nails are chewed down." She unknowingly quirked a half grin. "My brother Charlie still chews his fingernails."
Draco allowed himself a small breath of relief; her hands had stopped shaking. "The verdict?"
Green eyes met his. "You do not have your father's hands." Her gaaze began to slowly, achingly traverse the features of his face, skittering away from meeting his unfaltering stare.
She spoke so quietly Draco had difficulty hearing the girl. "Your hair is more yellow and blonde and soft." She shivered at the memory of coarse, white blonde hair. "Your eyelashes are dark. Your face is more… delicate."
Draco smiled. "I prefer the term, more refined. Delicate strikes me as somewhat effeminate."
She almost grinned in response. "Delicate it is, then. Your nose is different, your cheekbones higher, your chin less flabby."
Draco was growing increasingly disturbed by the way she could pick out the tiny differences. He felt a violent surge of anger, more than he'd ever felt before, towards his father. Knowing all too well what tortures Lucius must have subjected the sweet girl in front of him to for her to know his father that intimately.
She wasn't done though. "Your voice is different, you have more depth and inflection than your father ever did. Your lips are paler and yet somehow more distinct. Your skin looks smoother." She trailed off suddenly and gazed steadily at where her hands were strangling each other in her lap.
His serious eyes moved from the top of her head, lustrous short curls falling gently around her ears and neck.
"So?"
She lifted her tortured eyes to his. "You are not your father."
He let out a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding and relaxed in his seat. He pushed one hand through his blonde hair and looked around the library, only now noticing the darkened windows and lack of students. Madam Pince had a desk lamp burning brightly on her counter, but the librarian herself was nowhere to be seen.
Ginny, sensing his attention elsewhere, also looked around. Frantically she scooted back from Malfoy. "I have to get back to the tower…" she mumbled hurriedly, seeing that it was almost curfew.
Draco stood too. "I'll walk you back."
She stiffened and was about to refuse him but he kept speaking. "Just so you don't have to walk back by yourself. No ulterior motives Ginny. I just…" he blushed a bit in the now dim light of the library, not used to having to make admissions of this sort "think you could use a friend. And so could I."
Ginny's clear green eyes flew up to meet his at her name issuing forth from his mouth. "Alright." She murmured finally, having measured and weighed his words for honesty.
The stone corridors were dim and empty as he escorted the slender red haired girl back to the Gryffindor tower. Draco kept her talking; asked about schoolwork and meaningless household charms and all sorts of inane things that kept her mind from dwelling on the threatening dark corners and the emptiness of the halls.
The blond prefect left her at the portrait hole and waited until she made it through. Ginny met the Harry and Ron on their way out and rolled her eyes when they stammered out that they were going to go look for her. She brushed aside the obvious lie and made her way to her dorm room, confident in her actions for what felt like the first time since her first year.
Ginny's mind circled around the fact that when Draco Malfoy had walked beside her, his tall frame inclined just slightly towards her, she'd felt safer than she had in years.
No nightmares plagued her sleep that night.
AN: Alright you guys, please review and tell me what you think. Oh, I edited this once, but if any spellgin errors an' stuff slipped past my tired eyes, let me know?? grins hopefully