♥ "A New Order" for thelovemachines ♥
Title: A New Order
Author: AtrumAngelus
Rating: R
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Some foul language and detailed sex
Summary: AU after HBP. Though Voldemort was destroyed, the Order has lost and a new regime has risen to power: the newly restored Knights of Walpurgis. Tired of the nearly decimated resistance’s pointless fighting, Ginny Weasley has fled to Scotland, where she has a most interesting encounter.
A New Order
The war had ended. And while Voldemort was dead, by all accounts the Order had lost. All accounts but their own, that is. Bravely, stubbornly, perhaps even stupidly, they continued to fight against a force far mightier than their own in a battle they could never hope to win. With their rapidly depleting numbers, they were little more than a pebble in the new regime’s shoe. And what a regime it was.
Gone was the chaos and destruction the Death Eaters had once been so famous for. Gone, in fact, were the Death Eaters. In their stead stood the Knights of Walpurgis, restored to all their glory. In place of chaos, there was tight regulation. In place of destruction, there was a society reborn. And in place of Lord Voldemort, there stood the most unlikely (and yet inevitable) leader.
His Supreme Majesty, Lucius Everild Washburne Abraxas Malfoy.
Ironically enough, Lucius Malfoy was a savior of sorts to the wizarding population of Great Britain. Where Voldemort had been cruel and unrelenting, an unlovable tyrant who’d been doomed to fail from the start, Lucius was calculating and sophisticated, charming longtime foes into becoming the greatest of allies. In a surprise move, he’d recognized the absurdity of completely ridding their population of muggleborns and half-bloods and had instead implemented programs to gradually assimilate the descendants of these “poor souls” into proper wizarding society. Generations later, of course, when their blood could finally be considered pure.
To some, such as Arthur and Molly Weasley, Lucius Malfoy’s rule was even worse than Voldemort’s, as it was not only much more likely to succeed, but with Lucius’ connections was bound to spread to other countries as well. Already Romania, Bulgaria, and Italy were talking about an alliance and inquiring about the new King’s unique proposals and programs. To others, Lucius was a godsend, fulfilling the longtime dream of the Knights of Walpurgis in a way none of them had ever imagined.
But to Ginevra Molly Weasley, Lucius Malfoy was merely one of the many reasons she could never go home.
“Red! Get over here and deliver these orders before I toss you out on your arse.”
Ginny, who’d been no more than three steps away, didn’t even bother to glare at Mordrid Errol as she ripped the plates from his hands. The past eighteen months had taught her that Mordrid, while being an excellent fry cook, was also the world’s biggest asshole and there was nothing to be done about it.
She didn’t smile at her two customers when she delivered their food. There was no point, really. Anyone shady enough to wander into Errol’s Pub wasn’t looking for good service. They were looking for privacy. Or occasionally an escape from the Knights, though these days opposition to the new regime was hard to find, as most had been deported or mysteriously disappeared.
The front door opened as Ginny cleared off one of the nearby tables and she was unsurprised to see an indistinguishable cloaked figure enter the bar. It seemed like half their clientele fit that profile. Tiredly sighing, Ginny rubbed the back of her neck as she made her way over to the corner booth where the stranger had settled himself.
“What’ll you have?”
“Got a menu?” he mumbled, his deep voice surprisingly soft and sophisticated.
Ginny raised an eyebrow at this before realizing the hooded man was slouched over the table and no doubt couldn’t see her look of disbelief. “We’ve got alcohol and fried foods. If you’re looking for fine dining, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
“Double shot of Dragon Rum.”
Ginny scoffed. What idiot would think she’d be stupid enough to admit to serving that? “Sorry, but that’s stuff’s illegal. We’ve got Merlin’s Make if you want something stro--”
He discreetly slid a fistful of shiny new Galleons across the table and Ginny’s eyes widened considerably. “Like I said, double shot of Dragon Rum.”
“Coming right up,” she mumbled, pocketing the coins and quickly conjuring his drink.
He didn’t seem to require anything else and so Ginny turned to leave, but his words froze her mid-stride.
“Never expected to find you here, Weasley.”
For a moment, Ginny didn’t even breathe. It’d been a long time since she’d heard the name Weasley spoken aloud. Given the current circumstances, it wasn’t that surprising. The Weasleys currently led what was left of the resistance and the name was as good as Taboo. Most didn’t dare speak it out of fear of association.
Only the burning sensation in her lungs reminded Ginny to finally breathe again. But she didn’t turn around when she replied, “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong girl.”
“I doubt it,” he snorted, downing the double shot in one giant gulp. “Absurdly bright orange hair, massive amounts of freckles, all you’re missing is the horde of brothers hovering like angry pigeons.”
Memories rose unwillingly to the surface and Ginny did all that she could to push them back down into the recesses of her mind. She didn’t want to think of Ron and his adorably overprotective nature, or the twins’ excessive pranking, or the way Percy’s brow always crinkled just so when he was thinking hard about something. It was simply too painful.
Finally turning to face the annoyingly inquisitive customer, Ginny fixed him with her best look of nonchalance and arrogance, which she’d become quite the pro at while working at Errol’s. Though it was more out of necessity than a natural ability.
“My name’s Endora Vallese and from what I hear, the Weasley girl died a couple years back. So if you’re looking for her, I’d say your shit out of luck.”
At this, the stranger looked up, and though his face was still hidden by the shadows, Ginny could feel his eyes on her and the intensity of it made her shiver uncontrollably.
“That’s a pity indeed.”
She didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant by that as the front door swung open to reveal two intimidating figures cloaked in deep purple robes that marked them as high-ranking members in the Knights of Walpurgis.
The atmosphere immediately changed as tension filled the room and every head turned to warily watch as Augustus Rookwood and Rabastan Lestrange waltzed into the pub, heads held high and eyes disdainfully glancing about the room.
Because the stranger had chosen the most secluded booth in Errol’s, Rookwood and Lestrange had not yet noticed him or the way he’d suspiciously shrunken deeper into his cloak. And neither had Ginny, until he reached out to pull her down onto the seat next to him, his pale hand clamping over her mouth and silencing her surprised squeak.
“Is there a way to get out of here without them noticing?” he hissed, his hot breath brushing her ear and sending goose bumps along her flesh.
Ginny, keeping a careful eye on the two Knights, who’d begun accosting one of the other patrons, briefly nodded to the stranger. He hesitated, as if weighing something, before letting his hand fall away from her mouth. “Will you help me?”
“Why can’t you just Apparate?” she whispered back.
“They’ll be looking for my magical signature and I can’t have them knowing I was here.” His other hand gently tugged at one of her red locks, almost absently. “C’mon Weasley, for old time’s sake.”
She wanted to ask what old times he was referring to, wanted to know who he was and how he seemed so sure that she was Ginny Weasley. She guessed they must have gone to school together, because she hadn’t made any lasting acquaintances after she graduated, but that left very few people who came to mind.
Collin had been missing for over three years, though she’d heard rumors that his family had fled to Canada. Neville died in the final battle against Voldemort. Harry was locked away in St. Mungo’s, loonier than Luna had ever been. And both Michael and Dean, as half-bloods, were locked away in holding camps.
Aside from her family, there were no other men in Hogwarts who’d known her well enough to be so sure of her identity, especially when the three years that had passed since her graduation had aged her greatly in more ways than one.
But instead of questioning this stranger, she simply nodded. No matter how he knew her, he was in trouble now, and no one deserved the type of punishment Rookwood and Lestrange were infamous for. Quickly grabbing his hand, she slid out of the booth and he followed her as they melted into the shadows of the pub, easily avoiding the semi-distracted Knights.
As she led him through the back halls, she marveled at his cool hand in comparison to her sweaty one. She could feel the tension in his body, especially when they were so close together in order to prevent separation, and knew he was terribly nervous, but by all outward appearances, he was perfectly composed.
The cold rush of air that blasted against Ginny’s face when they exited the back door of Errol’s brought with it a harsh blow of the reality of the situation. “I can never go back,” she mumbled, instantly regretting her impulsive decision to help out this stranger.
“Why not?” he inquired, though his attention was clearly elsewhere as he searched the alley to ensure their privacy.
“Because whether or not Rookwood and Lestrange noticed our exit, I’m sure Mordrid did, or at least will soon enough. And even if he doesn’t turn me in, there’s no way he’ll take me back, not if I’m associated with…”
Here she stopped because not only was she still in the dark about this man’s identity, but she also had no idea why he was running in the first place. And while her instincts to care for those in need had ruled her first, now that the immediate danger had passed, Ginny was no longer content with wondering.
“Why are you running from them anyway?” she demanded. “And who are you?”
He turned to face her and the fact that she could still not see his face was really starting to annoy her. “Give me a place to hide tonight and I’ll answer all your questions. Within reason.”
“What?!” she screeched and immediately winced at the echo her voice caused. “Are you kidding me,” Ginny continued, much quieter this time, “Do you think I’m that stupid to take in someone who won’t even--”
“If I reveal myself to you and swear by the blood that I’ll do you no harm, will you take me with you? Please.”
Ginny paused to think about this for a moment. If he was willing to swear by the blood…
“Lestrange! I think I may have found the back door.”
“Well don’t just stand there, you fool. Open it!”
The stranger nearly threw himself at Ginny, shaking her suddenly. “For the love of Merlin, Weasley, get us out of here!”
As the back door opened, Ginny ignored the voice in the back of her head begging her to use common sense and instead Apparated away with a pop, taking the stranger to the only place she knew they’d be safe.
Her home.
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“This is not at all what I’d expect of you, Weasley.”
Looking around her flat, Ginny didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. There should have been pictures of her family, warm golds and reds, anything that marked her as the loyal Gryffindor she was. Instead, all that greeted them was a dismal brown carpet, fraying furniture, and peeling yellow wallpaper.
But Ginny ignored all of this and instead pointed her wand at the stranger by her side. “I’ve brought you here, now it’s your turn. Who the hell are you?”
“Demanding wench, aren’t you?” he mumbled, but complied nonetheless.
When he pushed back his hood to reveal platinum blonde hair and dark grey eyes, Ginny felt her stomach drop to her feet.
“Oh gods.”
Draco Malfoy. Prince Draco Malfoy. As in the heir to the newly established throne of wizarding Great Britain. As in the second in command of the new regime. As in the great hater of Harry Potter and all things Weasley. In her flat!
Ginny could feel the color drain from her face as she raised her wand higher, warding him off. The rumors that had spread over the past few years about Draco Malfoy were less than comforting and suddenly Ginny regretted her impulsive decision. If he attacked her, she was utterly fucked. If she defended herself, she’d be killed for endangering Britain’s heir. And if she didn’t…
Draco sighed heavily, slowly backing away from her and collapsing onto the rotting couch. “Calm down, Weasley. I said I wouldn’t hurt you and I meant it. Besides, if I’d really wanted to, I could have tortured you in that pub and no one would have lifted a finger to stop me.”
He had a point there. And yet… “Why were you hiding from Rookwood and Lestrange?”
Brushing a hand absently through his hair, Draco surprised her by answering with the truth. “Because my official coronation ceremony is quickly approaching and I’m trying to put it off as long as possible.”
This honesty shocked Ginny so much that she lowered her wand, though she did not pocket it. “Why? I thought world domination was a wet dream for Slytherins.”
He snorted. “How stereotypical of you. Going to compare me to a snake next?”
Ginny couldn’t keep her lips from quirking into a small smile. “Maybe. Depends on whether or not you try to slither your way out of my next question.”
“My dear Weasley,” he replied, gesturing widely with his hands. “As promised, in return for a hideaway, I’m an open book.”
Slowly stepping forward, Ginny sat on the edge of a nearby chair. Close enough to not seem too uneasy, but far enough away that a quick escape was not impossible. This Draco Malfoy seemed very different from the one she knew in school. Less arrogant and cruel, more confident and classy. But that didn’t mean she trusted him. Not in the least.
“Why are you avoiding the coronation ceremony?”
For a good minute, Draco said nothing and Ginny thought he might not answer. But after what seemed to be the most awkward silence ever, Draco breathed deeply and rested his head against the back of her couch.
“Because the coronation requires a bride and the one my father has chosen does not appeal to me.”
Ginny’s first guess was Pansy Parkinson, but that made no sense. Draco and Pansy had seemed happy together at Hogwarts and the gossip reporters claimed their break up had been amicable. But aside from Parkinson, Ginny was quite unfamiliar with the female Slytherins and quickly realized she had no clue whom Lucius Malfoy might have in mind for his son. Luckily, Draco didn’t leave her guessing for long.
“As if I should be expected to spend my life with Astoria Greengrass. She thinks Asia is a bloody country. What an embarrassment!”
“Well,” Ginny reasoned, “why doesn’t your father let you choose your own bride?”
Draco looked away from her, a bitter smile creeping onto his face. “That option was given to me as well. Unfortunately, the only woman I’m interested in is unattainable.”
“Unattainable? For you?” Ginny scoffed. “Like every witch in Britain isn’t throwing herself at your feet now.”
“You’re not,” Draco responded, his steel grey eyes meeting her warm brown ones with such challenging surety that she blushed and snuggled closer to her chair.
“I don’t throw myself at any man’s feet.”
Draco coughed something that sounded suspiciously like Potter, but quickly covered it by smirking and answering with, “How about a drink, Weasley? Dawn’s still a few hours away and I feel like playing a game.”
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Alcohol is a funny thing. For some people, it has a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde effect, turning ordinarily nice citizens into rampaging lunatics. For others, it acts as a tranquilizer, calming their nerves in the most stressful of situations. For Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, however, it performed its most popular job: ridding their bodies and minds of normal inhibitions.
“Seriously, the entire time you dated, you and Potter never…”
Ginny shook her head, sloshing her wine down her shirt in the process. “Never. To be honest,” she whispered, as if confiding the secrets of the universe, “I always thought he might be gay.”
“He’d have to be,” Draco responded, taking another swig out of the Firewhiskey bottle. “To have dated you for so long and never made a move.”
Ginny waved him off absently. “Of course, it could have been me. Michael never made a move. Neither did Dean. Maybe I’m unfuckable.”
She stood on wobbly legs and twirled around for Draco to see, her short dress flying up and leaving little to the imagination.
“What’d you think?”
“Weasley,” he growled, “I think you better not do that again if you don’t want a serious answer to your question.
Ginny giggled and fell onto the couch beside him. “Maybe I do want a serious answer. Maybe I’m tired of not being fucked.”
Draco sat straight up, the slight fogginess to his eyes completely gone. “Weasley, I’m warning you--”
“Ooh,” she squealed, playfully shimmying and reenacting a more than slightly skewed version of his Hogwarts sweetheart. “Drakie. Take me now. I want to feel you pressed up against my--”
She was cut off abruptly as Draco pounced on top of her and stopped laughing when she noticed the deadly serious look on his face. “Weasley, I’m telling you now, don’t finish that sentence unless you can handle the consequences.”
He was pressed so tightly against her body that Ginny could feel his growing erection pulsing against her belly. For a twenty year old virgin, this should have been terrifying, but for Ginny Weasley, the fear was overruled by an undeniable need that pooled deep within her. It’d been so long, too long, since she’d been touched by anyone.
In fact, it had been exactly eighteen months, twenty-six days, four hours, and fifty seven minutes since her last real human contact. And she was still trying to block it from her memory.
Blinking, Ginny forced herself to concentrate on the present. She licked her lips and stared up into the mercury eyes hovering above her. She knew it was wrong. Knew with every fiber of her being that any sensible person would shove Draco Malfoy on his ass and run the opposite direction. But while Gryffindors were known for their bravery, sense seemed to be a department a great many of them lacked.
“And what if I can, Malfoy?”
He smirked and it should have annoyed her. But the only thing she could think of was how bloody beautiful he was, all angles and high cheek bones and yet somehow still masculine.
“I’d say you better call me Draco while I fuck you, Ginevra.”
As his mouth descended on hers, Ginny didn’t even have time to ponder how he knew her real name when it seemed no one else in school had.
There was nothing slow or gentle about the way he kissed her. It was all tongue and teeth and utter lust. The control she’d felt in the past when kissing other boys was gone, replaced by the insatiable need to be closer Draco. It was inexplicable, never before had Ginny become so lost in a person, even Harry whom she’d believed she truly loved. At least at the time.
It wasn’t until the cold air of her unheated apartment hit her private bits that she realized he’d divested both of them of their clothing. Gasping, Ginny sat straight up, knocking Draco back and pulling the discarded dress to her body. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down, and doing her best not to stare at the completely naked, and quite annoyed, Draco Malfoy staring at her.
“What the bleeding hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m-I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I just… I’m nervous all right? I’ve never done this before and I’m so confused and sort of afraid but really turned on and I’m just not sure--”
He cut her off, pressing a finger to her lips and Ginny looked up, preparing herself for the disdain in his eyes and was surprised to be met with a gentle understanding. “It’ll hurt. There’s nothing I can do about that. But only for a second and what comes after will more than make up for it.”
The aching in Ginny’s body begged her to listen to him, begged her to throw herself at him and take his impressive manhood into her trembling core. But, though her sense was gone, the fear was not. “Promise?”
It was stupid, asking him to promise her anything in regards to what was about to transpire. He had already admitted to being betrothed to Astoria Greengrass and being in love with someone else entirely, so it wasn’t like there were any emotional guarantees he could give her. But Ginny wanted, no, needed, something. Even if it was just a beautiful lie.
Surprisingly, Draco smiled and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “I promise.”
Ginny nodded and reassured herself with those two words as he rid her of the dress once and for all.
His kisses were different now. No longer rushed and heavy, but slow and intoxicating, as if she would drown in his essence. Letting her fear fall to the side, Ginny found herself enraptured by the way he sucked and licked each nipple. And each time his teeth would graze the tip, she couldn’t help but throw herself back into the couch, getting wetter each time.
When his mouth abandoned her breasts for the side of her neck, his hands took up the slack and Ginny moaned as she pressed closer against him, wrapping her legs around his waist, tempted to force him into her.
He laughed against her freckled flesh and playfully nipped the skin. “Don’t rush it, Ginevra. Trust me.”
And she did. Stupidly, naively, blindly she trusted him. Maybe it was the way he held her, as if she were a rare gem or virgin goddess. Or maybe it was the way he kept whispering soft things in Italian. Or maybe it was just her overactive imagination. Either way, Ginny didn’t care. She couldn’t care.
Not when his hands delved down to her clitoris and rubbed the sensitive nub so that she almost came in his hands. Not when his mouth descended to her warm cunt and licked her inner walls until she moaned his name. Not even when his bulging member entered her, which admittedly did hurt for a moment, but then he was kissing away the tears and his hands were back at her clit and he was thrusting into her so wonderfully that all she would remember afterwards was being lost in a brilliant light.
“You were right,” she gasped after the fourth wave hit her.
“Of course,” he responded, pulling her body flush against his and flicking his tongue against her neck. “I never lie.”
Ginny laughed and sat up. When he inquired what she was doing, she merely smiled and said, “Fair is fair,” before making him cum quite a number of times herself.
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“I can sing quite well,” he stated, very matter of fact, and Ginny glanced up at him in surprise.
They’d finally made it to her bed and, after an exhausting romp, had fallen into an easy game of revelation where they each came clean about something no one else knew. It was so odd to Ginny because every boy she knew had always seemed distant and terrible with emotions. But Draco was different, it was almost as if he wanted to open up to her and it was both frightening and exhilarating.
“Tenor or bass?”
“Baritone, actually. Though I never sing for people.”
She hesitated before asking her next question, unsure of the reaction it would illicit. “Will you sing for me?”
The look he gave her was one she couldn’t place. “Maybe one day.”
An easy silence descended on the two as Ginny pondered what to reveal next. “I never wanted to be sorted in Gryffindor. I actually begged the Sorting Hat to put me in Ravenclaw. Clearly it didn’t listen to me.”
“Really?” he asked and she didn’t miss the evident surprise in his voice. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t want to be just another Weasley. Plus the look on Ron’s face would have been priceless.”
Draco kissed her freckled shoulder before responding with, “I was kidnapped when I was five.”
Jerking up, Ginny stared at him in shock. “What? But I never heard anything about that. I’m sure the Daily Prophet would have--”
“My parents kept it quiet. It was handled fairly quickly and my father wanted to administer his own sort of justice. Really I think it impacted my parents more so than me. I don’t even remember it. But until I was fifteen, they would both check in on me when they thought I’d drifted to sleep. And whenever August tenth rolls around, they’re especially protective. Usually, Mum won’t let me out of her sight.”
Unsure of what to say, Ginny pressed a soft kiss against his bare chest, letting the baby soft hair that covered it tickle her nose for a moment before backing away. It was unusual for him to bring up something so serious.
Their secrets so far had been all about childhood fears and dreams, or little quirks that in the big scheme of things were quite insignificant. But this… It felt so personal and, though Draco downplayed it, she could tell it affected him. She couldn’t insult him by revealing something as mundane as her secret hatred of the Chudley Cannons or inability to cook anything without setting something on fire. But, aside from the Chamber of Secrets (which she was sure he already knew about), Ginny only had one other serious secret. And she was quite hesitant to come clean about it.
“I almost died last year,” she finally whispered. Draco, who had been tracing circles on her lower back, stopped moving and listened quite intently to her words. “It was late April and Charlie and I were caught in the middle of a resistance uprising. I got in the way of a rogue curse, but Charlie jumped in front of me at the last second. He--” she choked on the words even as hot tears coursed down her cheeks. “He died in my arms. And I realized how stupid we’d all been, fighting a battle we couldn’t win.”
Draco wrapped his arms around Ginny’s trembling body and kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to tell me this.”
But it was too late for her to stop now. She’d been silent for far too long and now it felt as if she would die from the heartache and loneliness if she didn’t tell someone.
“Someone needs to know. Someone has to understand why I ran. Why I’m hiding here in Scotland. I couldn’t stay. I tried to explain to them that sometimes the brave thing to do is to not fight, to recognize defeat and find a way to save the ones who really matter. They said,” she sucked in a deep breath and fought to keep down the bile that was rising in her throat. “They said I was a coward and a traitor. Ron told me to leave and so I did. I came here and I tried to forget them but it’s so hard when I’ve never known anything else.”
He was silent for a good while, but he held her tight and that meant more to Ginny than any words ever could. To know, even if only for a moment, even if it was only a lie, that someone cared, that someone was there; it was enough.
“I lied to you earlier and I think it was the first time I’ve ever done so. I meant what I said earlier, I don’t lie. Ever.”
Ginny sniffled and stared up at him, unsure which part he’d lied to her about and fairly certain she didn’t want to know either way. If he’d lied about not hurting her… well, then she wanted to savor this feeling of happiness for as long as she could.
“I did expect to see you at Errol’s. That’s how Lestrange and Rookwood knew to look for me there.”
She sat up at this, more than confused at this latest secret. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, sitting up as well and leaning back against her headboard. “I’ve spent the last eighteen months tracking you down.”
This should have frightened her. For sure it would have sent up warning signs to any sensible person. But Ginny couldn’t help but feel Draco did not mean this in a menacing manner, but rather as something else. Though what she wasn’t sure.
“You’re a very difficult witch to find, Ginevra,” he continued. “I almost didn’t make it in time.”
“Make it in time for what?”
He smiled gently at her and, for someone who was so used to seeing him smirk and scowl, Ginny couldn’t help but notice how right it seemed on his deceptively angelic face.
“Do you remember the final battle at Hogwarts?”
“No,” Ginny shook her head. “I was taken out early on.”
Draco blushed slightly and ducked his head. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“That was you?!”
He held up his hands, as if fending off her inevitable attack. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Better than letting you get yourself killed, at any rate.”
“Excuse you, but I happen to be an excellent due-wait,” she stopped in the middle of her tirade, carefully considering his words. “Are you saying that you… but I… and you were dating… I don’t understand!”
Draco laughed and it should have made her want to smack him, but the way he was looking at her was too mind boggling to contemplate anything else. “I’d been watching you for a while, Ginevra. Ever since you stood up to me in our second year at that Lockhart signing. But what with the war and the feud between our families, there never seemed a good time to approach you.”
She could almost hear the ‘until now’ that should have followed those words and it had her at a loss. Aside from the usual mocking and occasional insult, Draco had never so much as acknowledged her presence at school. And she’d always thought he’d seen her as Harry’s pathetic tag-a-long. To know that he’d been watching her all this time… It was either desperately romantic or extremely creepy. And all this information was causing her head to spin.
“So what do you say, Ginevra?”
“Say to what?” she asked, wondering where on earth he could be taking this.
“Marry me,” he blurted out. “Rescue me from that horrible Greengrass girl and be my queen. It’d be just like those fairy tales I’d see you reading in the library, wouldn’t it?” She opened her mouth to refuse his offer, but he barreled on, clearly predicting her initial answer. “I know you don’t love me. But I think you could grow to. And I’ll treat you right. You’ll have anything you ever wanted. And I promise,” here he took her trembling hands in his steady ones, pressing a light kiss to each and every knuckle, “you’ll never be alone again.”
Ginny didn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? If she refused, she had a feeling he’d respect her wishes. But that left her jobless, soon to be homeless, and utterly alone. And if she said yes, then what? All chance that ever existed of reuniting with her family would be gone. It went against everything she’d once believed in and still did to a degree.
And yet… she’d have a chance. To make things better for those considered less than pure. To really protect the ones she cared about, even if it would alienate her from them forever. And, a part of Ginny acquiesced, perhaps Draco was right. Perhaps she could come to love him. If the way he’d touched her earlier was any indication, he definitely loved her.
Still…
Steeling herself, Ginny gave the only answer she felt she could.
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The wedding took place on a warm day in April. Though hesitant at first, Narcissa and Lucius came around eventually, and now insisted she call them Mum and Dad, which Ginny found rather odd and yet delightfully charming.
True to his word, Draco had treated her with warmth and respect and unyielding love. It was more than any girl could ask for, really, to become a real life princess with her very own (occasionally) charming prince. And so what if her family had publicly disowned her? At least if they were ever captured, she would be able to save them and that was enough for her.
“Coming, Ginevra?”
Glancing up at her new husband, Ginny smiled and allowed him to pull her up off the sand. They were on their honeymoon in Italy and Draco had taken the liberty of renting out an entire village, just so they could have the utmost privacy. Ginny had claimed it was overkill, but he had simply responded with, “Get used to it, Princess. I’m going to spend the rest of my life spoiling you.”
And she had no doubt he would.
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic:
Voldemort is gone but his followers are tearing apart the magical world. Ginny is hiding in Scotland, separated from her family and friends. While working at a bar, she serves none other than Draco Malfoy who is also hiding in Scotland.
The tone/mood of the fic: Dark, but hopeful.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: Element? Desperation for human contact.
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: R to NC-17
Canon or AU? AU.
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): No weird fetishes.
Author: AtrumAngelus
Rating: R
Possible Spoilers/Warnings: Some foul language and detailed sex
Summary: AU after HBP. Though Voldemort was destroyed, the Order has lost and a new regime has risen to power: the newly restored Knights of Walpurgis. Tired of the nearly decimated resistance’s pointless fighting, Ginny Weasley has fled to Scotland, where she has a most interesting encounter.
A New Order
The war had ended. And while Voldemort was dead, by all accounts the Order had lost. All accounts but their own, that is. Bravely, stubbornly, perhaps even stupidly, they continued to fight against a force far mightier than their own in a battle they could never hope to win. With their rapidly depleting numbers, they were little more than a pebble in the new regime’s shoe. And what a regime it was.
Gone was the chaos and destruction the Death Eaters had once been so famous for. Gone, in fact, were the Death Eaters. In their stead stood the Knights of Walpurgis, restored to all their glory. In place of chaos, there was tight regulation. In place of destruction, there was a society reborn. And in place of Lord Voldemort, there stood the most unlikely (and yet inevitable) leader.
His Supreme Majesty, Lucius Everild Washburne Abraxas Malfoy.
Ironically enough, Lucius Malfoy was a savior of sorts to the wizarding population of Great Britain. Where Voldemort had been cruel and unrelenting, an unlovable tyrant who’d been doomed to fail from the start, Lucius was calculating and sophisticated, charming longtime foes into becoming the greatest of allies. In a surprise move, he’d recognized the absurdity of completely ridding their population of muggleborns and half-bloods and had instead implemented programs to gradually assimilate the descendants of these “poor souls” into proper wizarding society. Generations later, of course, when their blood could finally be considered pure.
To some, such as Arthur and Molly Weasley, Lucius Malfoy’s rule was even worse than Voldemort’s, as it was not only much more likely to succeed, but with Lucius’ connections was bound to spread to other countries as well. Already Romania, Bulgaria, and Italy were talking about an alliance and inquiring about the new King’s unique proposals and programs. To others, Lucius was a godsend, fulfilling the longtime dream of the Knights of Walpurgis in a way none of them had ever imagined.
But to Ginevra Molly Weasley, Lucius Malfoy was merely one of the many reasons she could never go home.
“Red! Get over here and deliver these orders before I toss you out on your arse.”
Ginny, who’d been no more than three steps away, didn’t even bother to glare at Mordrid Errol as she ripped the plates from his hands. The past eighteen months had taught her that Mordrid, while being an excellent fry cook, was also the world’s biggest asshole and there was nothing to be done about it.
She didn’t smile at her two customers when she delivered their food. There was no point, really. Anyone shady enough to wander into Errol’s Pub wasn’t looking for good service. They were looking for privacy. Or occasionally an escape from the Knights, though these days opposition to the new regime was hard to find, as most had been deported or mysteriously disappeared.
The front door opened as Ginny cleared off one of the nearby tables and she was unsurprised to see an indistinguishable cloaked figure enter the bar. It seemed like half their clientele fit that profile. Tiredly sighing, Ginny rubbed the back of her neck as she made her way over to the corner booth where the stranger had settled himself.
“What’ll you have?”
“Got a menu?” he mumbled, his deep voice surprisingly soft and sophisticated.
Ginny raised an eyebrow at this before realizing the hooded man was slouched over the table and no doubt couldn’t see her look of disbelief. “We’ve got alcohol and fried foods. If you’re looking for fine dining, you’ve come to the wrong place.”
“Double shot of Dragon Rum.”
Ginny scoffed. What idiot would think she’d be stupid enough to admit to serving that? “Sorry, but that’s stuff’s illegal. We’ve got Merlin’s Make if you want something stro--”
He discreetly slid a fistful of shiny new Galleons across the table and Ginny’s eyes widened considerably. “Like I said, double shot of Dragon Rum.”
“Coming right up,” she mumbled, pocketing the coins and quickly conjuring his drink.
He didn’t seem to require anything else and so Ginny turned to leave, but his words froze her mid-stride.
“Never expected to find you here, Weasley.”
For a moment, Ginny didn’t even breathe. It’d been a long time since she’d heard the name Weasley spoken aloud. Given the current circumstances, it wasn’t that surprising. The Weasleys currently led what was left of the resistance and the name was as good as Taboo. Most didn’t dare speak it out of fear of association.
Only the burning sensation in her lungs reminded Ginny to finally breathe again. But she didn’t turn around when she replied, “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong girl.”
“I doubt it,” he snorted, downing the double shot in one giant gulp. “Absurdly bright orange hair, massive amounts of freckles, all you’re missing is the horde of brothers hovering like angry pigeons.”
Memories rose unwillingly to the surface and Ginny did all that she could to push them back down into the recesses of her mind. She didn’t want to think of Ron and his adorably overprotective nature, or the twins’ excessive pranking, or the way Percy’s brow always crinkled just so when he was thinking hard about something. It was simply too painful.
Finally turning to face the annoyingly inquisitive customer, Ginny fixed him with her best look of nonchalance and arrogance, which she’d become quite the pro at while working at Errol’s. Though it was more out of necessity than a natural ability.
“My name’s Endora Vallese and from what I hear, the Weasley girl died a couple years back. So if you’re looking for her, I’d say your shit out of luck.”
At this, the stranger looked up, and though his face was still hidden by the shadows, Ginny could feel his eyes on her and the intensity of it made her shiver uncontrollably.
“That’s a pity indeed.”
She didn’t get a chance to ask what he meant by that as the front door swung open to reveal two intimidating figures cloaked in deep purple robes that marked them as high-ranking members in the Knights of Walpurgis.
The atmosphere immediately changed as tension filled the room and every head turned to warily watch as Augustus Rookwood and Rabastan Lestrange waltzed into the pub, heads held high and eyes disdainfully glancing about the room.
Because the stranger had chosen the most secluded booth in Errol’s, Rookwood and Lestrange had not yet noticed him or the way he’d suspiciously shrunken deeper into his cloak. And neither had Ginny, until he reached out to pull her down onto the seat next to him, his pale hand clamping over her mouth and silencing her surprised squeak.
“Is there a way to get out of here without them noticing?” he hissed, his hot breath brushing her ear and sending goose bumps along her flesh.
Ginny, keeping a careful eye on the two Knights, who’d begun accosting one of the other patrons, briefly nodded to the stranger. He hesitated, as if weighing something, before letting his hand fall away from her mouth. “Will you help me?”
“Why can’t you just Apparate?” she whispered back.
“They’ll be looking for my magical signature and I can’t have them knowing I was here.” His other hand gently tugged at one of her red locks, almost absently. “C’mon Weasley, for old time’s sake.”
She wanted to ask what old times he was referring to, wanted to know who he was and how he seemed so sure that she was Ginny Weasley. She guessed they must have gone to school together, because she hadn’t made any lasting acquaintances after she graduated, but that left very few people who came to mind.
Collin had been missing for over three years, though she’d heard rumors that his family had fled to Canada. Neville died in the final battle against Voldemort. Harry was locked away in St. Mungo’s, loonier than Luna had ever been. And both Michael and Dean, as half-bloods, were locked away in holding camps.
Aside from her family, there were no other men in Hogwarts who’d known her well enough to be so sure of her identity, especially when the three years that had passed since her graduation had aged her greatly in more ways than one.
But instead of questioning this stranger, she simply nodded. No matter how he knew her, he was in trouble now, and no one deserved the type of punishment Rookwood and Lestrange were infamous for. Quickly grabbing his hand, she slid out of the booth and he followed her as they melted into the shadows of the pub, easily avoiding the semi-distracted Knights.
As she led him through the back halls, she marveled at his cool hand in comparison to her sweaty one. She could feel the tension in his body, especially when they were so close together in order to prevent separation, and knew he was terribly nervous, but by all outward appearances, he was perfectly composed.
The cold rush of air that blasted against Ginny’s face when they exited the back door of Errol’s brought with it a harsh blow of the reality of the situation. “I can never go back,” she mumbled, instantly regretting her impulsive decision to help out this stranger.
“Why not?” he inquired, though his attention was clearly elsewhere as he searched the alley to ensure their privacy.
“Because whether or not Rookwood and Lestrange noticed our exit, I’m sure Mordrid did, or at least will soon enough. And even if he doesn’t turn me in, there’s no way he’ll take me back, not if I’m associated with…”
Here she stopped because not only was she still in the dark about this man’s identity, but she also had no idea why he was running in the first place. And while her instincts to care for those in need had ruled her first, now that the immediate danger had passed, Ginny was no longer content with wondering.
“Why are you running from them anyway?” she demanded. “And who are you?”
He turned to face her and the fact that she could still not see his face was really starting to annoy her. “Give me a place to hide tonight and I’ll answer all your questions. Within reason.”
“What?!” she screeched and immediately winced at the echo her voice caused. “Are you kidding me,” Ginny continued, much quieter this time, “Do you think I’m that stupid to take in someone who won’t even--”
“If I reveal myself to you and swear by the blood that I’ll do you no harm, will you take me with you? Please.”
Ginny paused to think about this for a moment. If he was willing to swear by the blood…
“Lestrange! I think I may have found the back door.”
“Well don’t just stand there, you fool. Open it!”
The stranger nearly threw himself at Ginny, shaking her suddenly. “For the love of Merlin, Weasley, get us out of here!”
As the back door opened, Ginny ignored the voice in the back of her head begging her to use common sense and instead Apparated away with a pop, taking the stranger to the only place she knew they’d be safe.
Her home.
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“This is not at all what I’d expect of you, Weasley.”
Looking around her flat, Ginny didn’t need to ask to know what he meant. There should have been pictures of her family, warm golds and reds, anything that marked her as the loyal Gryffindor she was. Instead, all that greeted them was a dismal brown carpet, fraying furniture, and peeling yellow wallpaper.
But Ginny ignored all of this and instead pointed her wand at the stranger by her side. “I’ve brought you here, now it’s your turn. Who the hell are you?”
“Demanding wench, aren’t you?” he mumbled, but complied nonetheless.
When he pushed back his hood to reveal platinum blonde hair and dark grey eyes, Ginny felt her stomach drop to her feet.
“Oh gods.”
Draco Malfoy. Prince Draco Malfoy. As in the heir to the newly established throne of wizarding Great Britain. As in the second in command of the new regime. As in the great hater of Harry Potter and all things Weasley. In her flat!
Ginny could feel the color drain from her face as she raised her wand higher, warding him off. The rumors that had spread over the past few years about Draco Malfoy were less than comforting and suddenly Ginny regretted her impulsive decision. If he attacked her, she was utterly fucked. If she defended herself, she’d be killed for endangering Britain’s heir. And if she didn’t…
Draco sighed heavily, slowly backing away from her and collapsing onto the rotting couch. “Calm down, Weasley. I said I wouldn’t hurt you and I meant it. Besides, if I’d really wanted to, I could have tortured you in that pub and no one would have lifted a finger to stop me.”
He had a point there. And yet… “Why were you hiding from Rookwood and Lestrange?”
Brushing a hand absently through his hair, Draco surprised her by answering with the truth. “Because my official coronation ceremony is quickly approaching and I’m trying to put it off as long as possible.”
This honesty shocked Ginny so much that she lowered her wand, though she did not pocket it. “Why? I thought world domination was a wet dream for Slytherins.”
He snorted. “How stereotypical of you. Going to compare me to a snake next?”
Ginny couldn’t keep her lips from quirking into a small smile. “Maybe. Depends on whether or not you try to slither your way out of my next question.”
“My dear Weasley,” he replied, gesturing widely with his hands. “As promised, in return for a hideaway, I’m an open book.”
Slowly stepping forward, Ginny sat on the edge of a nearby chair. Close enough to not seem too uneasy, but far enough away that a quick escape was not impossible. This Draco Malfoy seemed very different from the one she knew in school. Less arrogant and cruel, more confident and classy. But that didn’t mean she trusted him. Not in the least.
“Why are you avoiding the coronation ceremony?”
For a good minute, Draco said nothing and Ginny thought he might not answer. But after what seemed to be the most awkward silence ever, Draco breathed deeply and rested his head against the back of her couch.
“Because the coronation requires a bride and the one my father has chosen does not appeal to me.”
Ginny’s first guess was Pansy Parkinson, but that made no sense. Draco and Pansy had seemed happy together at Hogwarts and the gossip reporters claimed their break up had been amicable. But aside from Parkinson, Ginny was quite unfamiliar with the female Slytherins and quickly realized she had no clue whom Lucius Malfoy might have in mind for his son. Luckily, Draco didn’t leave her guessing for long.
“As if I should be expected to spend my life with Astoria Greengrass. She thinks Asia is a bloody country. What an embarrassment!”
“Well,” Ginny reasoned, “why doesn’t your father let you choose your own bride?”
Draco looked away from her, a bitter smile creeping onto his face. “That option was given to me as well. Unfortunately, the only woman I’m interested in is unattainable.”
“Unattainable? For you?” Ginny scoffed. “Like every witch in Britain isn’t throwing herself at your feet now.”
“You’re not,” Draco responded, his steel grey eyes meeting her warm brown ones with such challenging surety that she blushed and snuggled closer to her chair.
“I don’t throw myself at any man’s feet.”
Draco coughed something that sounded suspiciously like Potter, but quickly covered it by smirking and answering with, “How about a drink, Weasley? Dawn’s still a few hours away and I feel like playing a game.”
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Alcohol is a funny thing. For some people, it has a Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde effect, turning ordinarily nice citizens into rampaging lunatics. For others, it acts as a tranquilizer, calming their nerves in the most stressful of situations. For Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, however, it performed its most popular job: ridding their bodies and minds of normal inhibitions.
“Seriously, the entire time you dated, you and Potter never…”
Ginny shook her head, sloshing her wine down her shirt in the process. “Never. To be honest,” she whispered, as if confiding the secrets of the universe, “I always thought he might be gay.”
“He’d have to be,” Draco responded, taking another swig out of the Firewhiskey bottle. “To have dated you for so long and never made a move.”
Ginny waved him off absently. “Of course, it could have been me. Michael never made a move. Neither did Dean. Maybe I’m unfuckable.”
She stood on wobbly legs and twirled around for Draco to see, her short dress flying up and leaving little to the imagination.
“What’d you think?”
“Weasley,” he growled, “I think you better not do that again if you don’t want a serious answer to your question.
Ginny giggled and fell onto the couch beside him. “Maybe I do want a serious answer. Maybe I’m tired of not being fucked.”
Draco sat straight up, the slight fogginess to his eyes completely gone. “Weasley, I’m warning you--”
“Ooh,” she squealed, playfully shimmying and reenacting a more than slightly skewed version of his Hogwarts sweetheart. “Drakie. Take me now. I want to feel you pressed up against my--”
She was cut off abruptly as Draco pounced on top of her and stopped laughing when she noticed the deadly serious look on his face. “Weasley, I’m telling you now, don’t finish that sentence unless you can handle the consequences.”
He was pressed so tightly against her body that Ginny could feel his growing erection pulsing against her belly. For a twenty year old virgin, this should have been terrifying, but for Ginny Weasley, the fear was overruled by an undeniable need that pooled deep within her. It’d been so long, too long, since she’d been touched by anyone.
In fact, it had been exactly eighteen months, twenty-six days, four hours, and fifty seven minutes since her last real human contact. And she was still trying to block it from her memory.
Blinking, Ginny forced herself to concentrate on the present. She licked her lips and stared up into the mercury eyes hovering above her. She knew it was wrong. Knew with every fiber of her being that any sensible person would shove Draco Malfoy on his ass and run the opposite direction. But while Gryffindors were known for their bravery, sense seemed to be a department a great many of them lacked.
“And what if I can, Malfoy?”
He smirked and it should have annoyed her. But the only thing she could think of was how bloody beautiful he was, all angles and high cheek bones and yet somehow still masculine.
“I’d say you better call me Draco while I fuck you, Ginevra.”
As his mouth descended on hers, Ginny didn’t even have time to ponder how he knew her real name when it seemed no one else in school had.
There was nothing slow or gentle about the way he kissed her. It was all tongue and teeth and utter lust. The control she’d felt in the past when kissing other boys was gone, replaced by the insatiable need to be closer Draco. It was inexplicable, never before had Ginny become so lost in a person, even Harry whom she’d believed she truly loved. At least at the time.
It wasn’t until the cold air of her unheated apartment hit her private bits that she realized he’d divested both of them of their clothing. Gasping, Ginny sat straight up, knocking Draco back and pulling the discarded dress to her body. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving up and down, and doing her best not to stare at the completely naked, and quite annoyed, Draco Malfoy staring at her.
“What the bleeding hell is wrong with you?”
“I’m-I’m sorry,” she stuttered. “I just… I’m nervous all right? I’ve never done this before and I’m so confused and sort of afraid but really turned on and I’m just not sure--”
He cut her off, pressing a finger to her lips and Ginny looked up, preparing herself for the disdain in his eyes and was surprised to be met with a gentle understanding. “It’ll hurt. There’s nothing I can do about that. But only for a second and what comes after will more than make up for it.”
The aching in Ginny’s body begged her to listen to him, begged her to throw herself at him and take his impressive manhood into her trembling core. But, though her sense was gone, the fear was not. “Promise?”
It was stupid, asking him to promise her anything in regards to what was about to transpire. He had already admitted to being betrothed to Astoria Greengrass and being in love with someone else entirely, so it wasn’t like there were any emotional guarantees he could give her. But Ginny wanted, no, needed, something. Even if it was just a beautiful lie.
Surprisingly, Draco smiled and pressed a soft kiss against her lips. “I promise.”
Ginny nodded and reassured herself with those two words as he rid her of the dress once and for all.
His kisses were different now. No longer rushed and heavy, but slow and intoxicating, as if she would drown in his essence. Letting her fear fall to the side, Ginny found herself enraptured by the way he sucked and licked each nipple. And each time his teeth would graze the tip, she couldn’t help but throw herself back into the couch, getting wetter each time.
When his mouth abandoned her breasts for the side of her neck, his hands took up the slack and Ginny moaned as she pressed closer against him, wrapping her legs around his waist, tempted to force him into her.
He laughed against her freckled flesh and playfully nipped the skin. “Don’t rush it, Ginevra. Trust me.”
And she did. Stupidly, naively, blindly she trusted him. Maybe it was the way he held her, as if she were a rare gem or virgin goddess. Or maybe it was the way he kept whispering soft things in Italian. Or maybe it was just her overactive imagination. Either way, Ginny didn’t care. She couldn’t care.
Not when his hands delved down to her clitoris and rubbed the sensitive nub so that she almost came in his hands. Not when his mouth descended to her warm cunt and licked her inner walls until she moaned his name. Not even when his bulging member entered her, which admittedly did hurt for a moment, but then he was kissing away the tears and his hands were back at her clit and he was thrusting into her so wonderfully that all she would remember afterwards was being lost in a brilliant light.
“You were right,” she gasped after the fourth wave hit her.
“Of course,” he responded, pulling her body flush against his and flicking his tongue against her neck. “I never lie.”
Ginny laughed and sat up. When he inquired what she was doing, she merely smiled and said, “Fair is fair,” before making him cum quite a number of times herself.
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“I can sing quite well,” he stated, very matter of fact, and Ginny glanced up at him in surprise.
They’d finally made it to her bed and, after an exhausting romp, had fallen into an easy game of revelation where they each came clean about something no one else knew. It was so odd to Ginny because every boy she knew had always seemed distant and terrible with emotions. But Draco was different, it was almost as if he wanted to open up to her and it was both frightening and exhilarating.
“Tenor or bass?”
“Baritone, actually. Though I never sing for people.”
She hesitated before asking her next question, unsure of the reaction it would illicit. “Will you sing for me?”
The look he gave her was one she couldn’t place. “Maybe one day.”
An easy silence descended on the two as Ginny pondered what to reveal next. “I never wanted to be sorted in Gryffindor. I actually begged the Sorting Hat to put me in Ravenclaw. Clearly it didn’t listen to me.”
“Really?” he asked and she didn’t miss the evident surprise in his voice. “Why?”
She shrugged. “I guess I didn’t want to be just another Weasley. Plus the look on Ron’s face would have been priceless.”
Draco kissed her freckled shoulder before responding with, “I was kidnapped when I was five.”
Jerking up, Ginny stared at him in shock. “What? But I never heard anything about that. I’m sure the Daily Prophet would have--”
“My parents kept it quiet. It was handled fairly quickly and my father wanted to administer his own sort of justice. Really I think it impacted my parents more so than me. I don’t even remember it. But until I was fifteen, they would both check in on me when they thought I’d drifted to sleep. And whenever August tenth rolls around, they’re especially protective. Usually, Mum won’t let me out of her sight.”
Unsure of what to say, Ginny pressed a soft kiss against his bare chest, letting the baby soft hair that covered it tickle her nose for a moment before backing away. It was unusual for him to bring up something so serious.
Their secrets so far had been all about childhood fears and dreams, or little quirks that in the big scheme of things were quite insignificant. But this… It felt so personal and, though Draco downplayed it, she could tell it affected him. She couldn’t insult him by revealing something as mundane as her secret hatred of the Chudley Cannons or inability to cook anything without setting something on fire. But, aside from the Chamber of Secrets (which she was sure he already knew about), Ginny only had one other serious secret. And she was quite hesitant to come clean about it.
“I almost died last year,” she finally whispered. Draco, who had been tracing circles on her lower back, stopped moving and listened quite intently to her words. “It was late April and Charlie and I were caught in the middle of a resistance uprising. I got in the way of a rogue curse, but Charlie jumped in front of me at the last second. He--” she choked on the words even as hot tears coursed down her cheeks. “He died in my arms. And I realized how stupid we’d all been, fighting a battle we couldn’t win.”
Draco wrapped his arms around Ginny’s trembling body and kissed the top of her head. “You don’t have to tell me this.”
But it was too late for her to stop now. She’d been silent for far too long and now it felt as if she would die from the heartache and loneliness if she didn’t tell someone.
“Someone needs to know. Someone has to understand why I ran. Why I’m hiding here in Scotland. I couldn’t stay. I tried to explain to them that sometimes the brave thing to do is to not fight, to recognize defeat and find a way to save the ones who really matter. They said,” she sucked in a deep breath and fought to keep down the bile that was rising in her throat. “They said I was a coward and a traitor. Ron told me to leave and so I did. I came here and I tried to forget them but it’s so hard when I’ve never known anything else.”
He was silent for a good while, but he held her tight and that meant more to Ginny than any words ever could. To know, even if only for a moment, even if it was only a lie, that someone cared, that someone was there; it was enough.
“I lied to you earlier and I think it was the first time I’ve ever done so. I meant what I said earlier, I don’t lie. Ever.”
Ginny sniffled and stared up at him, unsure which part he’d lied to her about and fairly certain she didn’t want to know either way. If he’d lied about not hurting her… well, then she wanted to savor this feeling of happiness for as long as she could.
“I did expect to see you at Errol’s. That’s how Lestrange and Rookwood knew to look for me there.”
She sat up at this, more than confused at this latest secret. “Why?”
“Because,” he said, sitting up as well and leaning back against her headboard. “I’ve spent the last eighteen months tracking you down.”
This should have frightened her. For sure it would have sent up warning signs to any sensible person. But Ginny couldn’t help but feel Draco did not mean this in a menacing manner, but rather as something else. Though what she wasn’t sure.
“You’re a very difficult witch to find, Ginevra,” he continued. “I almost didn’t make it in time.”
“Make it in time for what?”
He smiled gently at her and, for someone who was so used to seeing him smirk and scowl, Ginny couldn’t help but notice how right it seemed on his deceptively angelic face.
“Do you remember the final battle at Hogwarts?”
“No,” Ginny shook her head. “I was taken out early on.”
Draco blushed slightly and ducked his head. “Yeah, sorry about that.”
“That was you?!”
He held up his hands, as if fending off her inevitable attack. “It seemed like a good idea at the time. Better than letting you get yourself killed, at any rate.”
“Excuse you, but I happen to be an excellent due-wait,” she stopped in the middle of her tirade, carefully considering his words. “Are you saying that you… but I… and you were dating… I don’t understand!”
Draco laughed and it should have made her want to smack him, but the way he was looking at her was too mind boggling to contemplate anything else. “I’d been watching you for a while, Ginevra. Ever since you stood up to me in our second year at that Lockhart signing. But what with the war and the feud between our families, there never seemed a good time to approach you.”
She could almost hear the ‘until now’ that should have followed those words and it had her at a loss. Aside from the usual mocking and occasional insult, Draco had never so much as acknowledged her presence at school. And she’d always thought he’d seen her as Harry’s pathetic tag-a-long. To know that he’d been watching her all this time… It was either desperately romantic or extremely creepy. And all this information was causing her head to spin.
“So what do you say, Ginevra?”
“Say to what?” she asked, wondering where on earth he could be taking this.
“Marry me,” he blurted out. “Rescue me from that horrible Greengrass girl and be my queen. It’d be just like those fairy tales I’d see you reading in the library, wouldn’t it?” She opened her mouth to refuse his offer, but he barreled on, clearly predicting her initial answer. “I know you don’t love me. But I think you could grow to. And I’ll treat you right. You’ll have anything you ever wanted. And I promise,” here he took her trembling hands in his steady ones, pressing a light kiss to each and every knuckle, “you’ll never be alone again.”
Ginny didn’t speak. She didn’t know what to say. What could she say? If she refused, she had a feeling he’d respect her wishes. But that left her jobless, soon to be homeless, and utterly alone. And if she said yes, then what? All chance that ever existed of reuniting with her family would be gone. It went against everything she’d once believed in and still did to a degree.
And yet… she’d have a chance. To make things better for those considered less than pure. To really protect the ones she cared about, even if it would alienate her from them forever. And, a part of Ginny acquiesced, perhaps Draco was right. Perhaps she could come to love him. If the way he’d touched her earlier was any indication, he definitely loved her.
Still…
Steeling herself, Ginny gave the only answer she felt she could.
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The wedding took place on a warm day in April. Though hesitant at first, Narcissa and Lucius came around eventually, and now insisted she call them Mum and Dad, which Ginny found rather odd and yet delightfully charming.
True to his word, Draco had treated her with warmth and respect and unyielding love. It was more than any girl could ask for, really, to become a real life princess with her very own (occasionally) charming prince. And so what if her family had publicly disowned her? At least if they were ever captured, she would be able to save them and that was enough for her.
“Coming, Ginevra?”
Glancing up at her new husband, Ginny smiled and allowed him to pull her up off the sand. They were on their honeymoon in Italy and Draco had taken the liberty of renting out an entire village, just so they could have the utmost privacy. Ginny had claimed it was overkill, but he had simply responded with, “Get used to it, Princess. I’m going to spend the rest of my life spoiling you.”
And she had no doubt he would.
ORIGINAL REQUEST:
Briefly describe what you'd like to receive in your fic:
Voldemort is gone but his followers are tearing apart the magical world. Ginny is hiding in Scotland, separated from her family and friends. While working at a bar, she serves none other than Draco Malfoy who is also hiding in Scotland.
The tone/mood of the fic: Dark, but hopeful.
An element/line of dialogue/object you would like in your fic: Element? Desperation for human contact.
Preferred rating of the the fic you want: R to NC-17
Canon or AU? AU.
Deal Breakers (anything you don't want?): No weird fetishes.