Disclaimer: JKR owns it.

 

A/N: All right, this is chapter when they FINALLY kiss!

 

 

Chapter Eight

 Spotted

 

 

Draco and Ginny took shelter in a bookstore about a block away from where they’d left Kyle. Ginny was still trying to catch her breath, the burning in her throat causing her to cough and that made it worse.

    When they got inside, Draco led them to an empty aisle and dropped his arm from her shoulder. Ginny’s heartbeat began to return to normal, and she was able to fix her gaze firmly on him.

    He had been looking at her with something close to worry in his steel eyes, but when he caught her glance he replaced it with a smirk. “Can’t stay out of trouble for twenty minutes without me, can you, Weasely?”

    Ginny took a shuddering breath, too grateful to even take offense. “I didn’t know . . .” she said, placing her arm against a bookshelf and leaning her forehead against it, her other hand over her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know he was going to drive off.”

    There was a silence after that, and Draco cleared his throat awkwardly. “I was just kidding, Weasley,” he said finally.

    She did not reply. Draco had not expected her to be so shaken up. She’d gotten out of a sinking bus and survived a car accident, but was freaking out because some guy drove off with her?

    “God, Weasley, he didn’t hurt you, did he?”

    Ginny didn’t even look at him. He wasn’t concerned – he was agitated. “Draco,” she said in a low voice, and his eyes widened at the use of his first name. “Why are you so cruel?”

    He blinked, not sure how to answer.

    She finally opened her eyelids and lifted her head off the bookshelf, staring at him. He saw anger in her eyes, and felt annoyed with himself for making her furious at him again.

    “You have no idea what I’ve been through the past few weeks,” she said shrilly. “No clue. I’ve witnessed a man being tortured, been accused for it, seen my family and those I love look away from me in shame, been trapped on a drowning bus, slammed into a tree going fifty miles an hour, and been scared out of my wits because some nut case lured me into his car. And all you can think of is how pathetic I’m acting right now. Well you, know what?” Draco stared at her, his expression unreadable, as tears welled up in her eyes. Don’t cry, she ordered herself. Don’t cry in front of him. “I’m tired of it,” she said, her chin quivering as she tried to hold her tears back. “I’m so sick of it all. I have no idea how I’m going to prove myself innocent, or if I will stay out of the clutches of the Ministry to do it, or even if I’ll live long enough to keep away from the Ministry. Right now all I can think of is what’s the point? Why am I even trying?”

    She could’ve gone on and on, but the first tear spilled over and her throat closed up. She looked down and then hurried away towards the bathroom, well aware of Draco’s eyes boring into her back as she half ran.

    Draco sighed. He didn’t think she was pathetic – no, it was the exact opposite. He admired her. Now he understood why she’d looked so crushed; all the events she’d been through were coming together and now she couldn’t stand it. If Draco wasn’t careful about what he said, or what he did, she could probably throw herself off a bridge. A person could only handle so much, but only someone with a strong will could have handled as much as Ginny was.

    The ordeal with Kyle had just topped it off.

    Fury rose up in him and he once more felt the urge to rip off the Kyle’s head. This time it was because of what he had done to Ginny, not of how he bothered Draco. It wasn’t fair that Ginny had to go through so much when she didn’t deserve it. It wasn’t fair that she couldn’t think of her family without remembering how ashamed of her they were at the very moment. After all, running only added to people’s guilt.

    What am I doing? Draco thought suddenly. I’m feeling bad for Ginny Weasley? Why should I feel bad for her? She’s not my problem . . .

    But she was his problem. If she wasn’t, then he wouldn’t have run after Kyle’s car the way he had. He would’ve turned his head and walked the other way.

    As much as he hated to admit it, he was starting to have feelings for her.

 

Twenty minutes later, Ginny returned from the bathroom. Her eyes were puffy and red, her hair was disheveled, and her cheeks were streaked with dry tears, but Draco thought she looked just as stunning as ever.

    “Here,” he said quietly, handing her her wand. She took it from him slowly, and then glanced up to meet his eyes for a split second before looking down again.

    “Where did you get this?” Her voice was nasally because her nose was clogged.

    “From the street,” he replied.

    She nodded, and whispered a thank you.

    They left the bookstore and walked on the sidewalk slowly. The sun was starting go down, casting shadows over the street.

    Draco wasn’t sure what to say to her. He was afraid to open his mouth and say something wrong. He couldn’t just start to be nice to her – that wasn’t his style. Sighing, he ran his hand through his hair.

    “What are you thinking?” she asked him softly.

    “What makes you think I’m thinking anything?”

    “The way you’re sighing and keep running your hand through her hair,” she said, glancing at him with a small smile. “Ron does it all the time when he tries to tell Mum how the empty whiskey bottle got under his bed.”

    Draco was torn between smiling at the image and looking horrified that he did the same actions Ron Weasley did. He settled on keeping his face unreadable.

    They walked along in silence for another minute or two.

    “Um, I guess I never did thank you,” Ginny finally said.

    “Thank me?”

    “For helping me out of the car,” she said. When he glanced at her he saw her staring at her shoes. “I – it means a lot to me.”

    “Don’t expect it every day,” he said gruffly, and mentally smacked himself for being so cold. He actually winced, bracing himself for another one of her tirades, but when nothing came, he looked at her to see her smiling gently.

    “What should we do now?” Ginny asked after another minute or two.

    “I thought you wanted to clear your name,” he said.

    She sighed. “I do. But I don’t know how.”

    “The only way you can is to get my father to confess,” said Draco.

    Ginny stopped walking and turned to him. “Why don’t you just tell people that I’m innocent?”

    He smirked. “Well, for one, I’m now considered just as guilty as you. Not to mention my father would deny it and people would listen to him.”

    “Do – d’you think you could talk him into telling the truth?” Ginny asked, almost carefully.

    “No,” he said rather sharply.

    She bit her lip and nodded. “Then I will.”

    “Huh?”

    “I will talk to him. Take me to your house and I’ll try and knock some sense into him.”

    “He’ll . . . well, let’s say he’s not the one who will contact the Ministry if you show up in our house.”

    “What’s that supposed to mean?”

    “Ginny, he’s a Death Eater.” Draco didn’t even realize he called her by her first name until after it slipped out. He ignored it and went on. “He’ll have the Dark Lord himself deal with you.”

    Ginny appeared deep in thought. “But that would be stupid,” she said at last, looking up to meet Draco’s eyes. “How would he explain to the Ministry if I was found dead in his house?”

    “The Dark Lord most likely won’t kill you,” Draco said, feeling irritated that she didn’t understand. “He’ll probably torture you, and then my father would contact the Ministry. My father would tell them you came and he called them as soon as he saw you. And, let’s face it, they’d believe him. You are running from the Ministry, Weasely. It makes you look more guilty than innocent, trust me on that.”

    Ginny closed her eyes. “It’s so complicated,” she said. “I’m never going to clear my name. No matter what I do I’ll be captured by the Ministry and sent straight to Azkaban . . .”

    Draco was afraid she’d start crying again, but she just stood there with her eyes pinched tightly for a moment. When she finally opened them, they looked a lot clearer and determined than before.

    “I’ll sleep on it,” she resolved. “I know I’ll think of something. Now, why don’t you find us a room?”

    He sneered and looked around the street. They were some of the last people on the sidewalk, since it was nearly dark, but cars drove by in a consistent stream. “I do believe it’s your turn to find us a hotel room.”

    “In that case I guess we’ll be sleeping in the woods. I’m sorry, Draco, I’m just not as talented as you when it comes to stealing stuff like rooms.”

    He stared at her, and found that she was teasing him. She wasn’t smiling, but her eyes danced mischievously. He gave her a half-grin, half-smirk and said, “One of the benefits of being a Slytherin, I suppose.”

    “The only benefit, may I add,” Ginny said smugly. “And it’s not a very good one, Draco.”

    “Since when are we on first name terms with each other, anyway?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

    In the pale light from the street lamp overhead he saw her flush. “I just thought that if we’re going to be putting up with each other we should use our first names.”

    She looked as if she expected him to laugh in her face, but instead he turned his lips into an amused smirk. “All right, if I call you Ginny then will you find us a room?”

    “No.”

    He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine, I’ll do it. Come on, we have to find a hotel first.”

    They walked around for a couple of hours, but each hotel they found didn’t have one spare room. Around midnight, when Ginny was very close to suggesting they just sleep in the woods, they found a run-down motel that had vacancy.

    The motel was so awful they were convinced no one would try and come in to the room they chose so they didn’t bother to put a spell on it. There were two double beds, much to Ginny’s relief, but when she took off her shoes and crawled under the covers she could smell the mildew from the pillow. The mattress was so soft she nearly sank to the floor, and the sheets scratched her skin uncomfortably. But despite all this, she fell asleep instantly.

    The next morning, she woke up to her stomach rumbling. Sitting up, she saw that Draco’s bed was empty and then heard the shower running in the bathroom.

    Sunlight streamed in through the dirt-caked windows, but it only revealed the filth they’d slept in. Ginny waited impatiently for Draco to come out so she could take her first shower in three days.

    Ten minutes later, he finally emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. She felt her cheeks blush furiously as she tried to avert her eyes from his bare chest, glistening with water droplets. She could feel him smirking at her and hurried by him to get into the bathroom.

    “The water isn’t very stable,” he said after her.

    She paused in the doorway and looked back, forcing her eyes to stay on his face rather than his chest. “What?”

    “It goes from freezing to burning about every two seconds,” he told her. “Just warning you.”

    She muttered her thanks, even though as dirty was she was any sort of water would do. The bathroom was small, and the shower tub was streaked with rust. Ginny ran the water and stuck her hand under it, and found Draco was right. It went from hot to cold constantly.

    Sighing, she stripped out of her filthy jumpsuit and got in. She kept jumping in and out of the stream because even though she could survive the cold, the hot was too scalding and her skin couldn’t take it.

    Still, when she finally came out she felt a lot better. She put her clothes back on and hurried back into the room. Draco, fully clothed, was lying on his bed and watching the TV, smirking.

    “What’s so funny?” she asked, sitting on the front of his bed and turning her eyes to the screen as well. The picture was terrible – she could barely make out the faces of people.

    “Nothing,” he said, and when she twisted around to look at him his smirk broadened. “What, I can’t smile for no reason?”

    “That’s not a smile,” she said, turning fully so she could face him. “That’s more of a grimace.”

    “Of course it is. It’s because I’m looking at you. I often grimace when I look at you.”

    Ginny should’ve taken offense to that. She opened her mouth to snap back when she saw the look in his eyes – he was just playing with her. His eyes had never sparkled like that before, and it surprised her. Closing her mouth, she frowned, trying to think of something witty to say.

    “Well,” he announced, throwing his legs over the side of the bed, “I’m starving. Let’s get something to eat.”

    They left the room (much to Ginny’s relief) and searched for a restaurant. Surprisingly, they found a wizarding place where they wouldn’t have to steal the food. But Ginny hesitated before they went in.

    “What if someone recognizes us?” she asked, grabbing Draco’s arm to keep him from going in.

    “Who cares?” Draco said irritably, jerking his arm from her grasp. “We’ll just leave if someone does. I’m too hungry to worry about that now.”

    Ginny was starving, too, but she still felt uneasy going inside the restaurant. She felt as if every eye was on her and Draco as they seated themselves at a table in the back corner.

    Fortunately, they ate their meal in peace. They each managed to polish off everything on their plates, and Ginny even snorted into her food from watching Draco eat rapidly from across the table. He glared at her for a moment, then his eyes softened and he gave her a warm smirk – if there was such a thing.

    They left after paying, both stuffed and in somewhat better spirits.

    “If we start now, we might be able to get to London in a day or two,” Draco announced.

    “We’re walking the whole way?”

    He gave her an icy look. “Well, we could hitch another ride with a Muggle, if that’s your preference.”

    Ginny clamped her mouth shut.

    They could’ve followed the highways, but that would risk them being spotted. So they took longer routes through rural farming areas and the woods. Neither of them spoke. Ginny was too busy thinking. She had hoped to think about how to clear her name last night, but she’d fallen asleep before she could come up with a solution.

    If only I could convince the Ministry to give Lucius a Veritaserum and have him confess that it wasn’t me who tortured him, she thought, frowning. They were going through a forest, but she’d had her fair share of the woods and was agitated by the trees and sticks. Then people would know I’m innocent! But the instant the Ministry gets their hands on me they’ll send me to Azkaban, no hesitations. I won’t even have a chance to say my idea, let alone put into action.

    They took a short break mid-afternoon, then started walking again. Ginny was beginning to get hungry once more.

    “How much longer until we get out of these woods?” she asked Draco, who was walking a few feet ahead and leading the way.

    “Soon,” he replied.

    But soon came and went, and soon the sun was starting to go down. Something close to panic fluttered in Ginny’s stomach and she called, “Do you know where we’re going?”

    “Of course,” he snapped touchily. She frowned and kept following him.

    The sun went down, and they had to light their wands to see where they were going. Ginny had had enough. “We’re lost, aren’t we, Draco? You got us lost!”

    He stopped walking and turned to her, frustrated. “I’m sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I thought I knew where we were going. If you know so much, why don’t you lead the way?”

    “Who said I knew which way to go?” she said sullenly, crossing her arms and feeling very much like a two-year-old pouting.

    “Looks like we’re camping in the forest tonight,” he said dryly, and started to walk again. “Let’s find a clearing where we can start a fire.”

    “Fire? It’s hotter than hell out here!”

    “Yes, but fire isn’t only used for warmth,” he told her, in the tone of one speaking to a child. “It keeps animals away, too. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be eaten by a wolf while I’m sleeping.”

    They found a small clearing, so small the tops of the trees created an overhang. They both made a pile of wood, and with a wave of Draco’s wand, a large fire was soon blazing.

    Ginny sat down on the ground as far away from it as she could, her back against a tree. Draco sat a few feet away from her, closer to the fire, staring into it. She couldn’t help but study his profile. His eyebrows were squeezed together, showing he was deep in thought. What was he thinking about?

    Why does it matter? she wondered.

    “Why are you staring at me?” Draco asked suddenly without turning his head.

    Ginny blushed and looked away into the fire. “I wasn’t staring.”

    He slowly turned to look at her. “Yes you were. I’m not blind, Ginny, I can see you out of the corner of my eye.”

    She didn’t reply.

    There was a long, awkward silence then. Ginny kept trying to think of things to say but nothing seemed right. I don’t need to talk to him, she told herself. I just don’t want to sit here in silence.

    “So,” Draco spoke up, the first to break the quiet, “have you figured out how to clear your name yet?”

    She frowned and looked at her lap. “No,” she replied. “I – I honestly don’t know what to do.”

    Draco turned his body to face her. “You somehow have to get the Ministry to believe that my father did something to the truth potion.”

    “He did something to it?” Ginny asked, shocked.

    “Yes. I thought you knew that. He was the one who volunteered to make it, didn’t you know?”

    “No.” But now everything made sense! Somehow Lucius had made the potion to force her to tell a lie, anything but the truth. “That wasn’t a Veritaserum I drank, was it?”

    “It was probably the exact opposite,” Draco said. “I have reason to believe that Voldemort helped my father make the potion.”

    Ginny tried not to wince at the name. “How so?”

    Draco sighed and stood up. He walked over and sat next to her. “The Ministry isn’t stupid,” he began to explain. “They know my father had ties with Voldemort in the past. They wouldn’t take his word when he says, ‘Here’s the Veritaserum, it’s perfect, you don’t need to worry.’ They would test it out first, wouldn’t they?”

    “Test it out, like, on another person?” Ginny asked.

    “Not exactly,” he replied. “They have ways to make sure a potion is correctly made to do what it needs to do. Since the Ministry doesn’t trust my father one hundred percent, they tested it. It must’ve passed the test or else they wouldn’t have given it to you.”

    “Is it possible that maybe your father made a real Veritaserum, then switched it at the last minute with something that looked like it?” Ginny asked. “That way the Ministry would’ve tested it, but when they gave it to me it would be the wrong potion.”

    “It’s possible,” he relented, “but the chances are very slim. My father made the potion the very day they tested it on you. I remember – he locked himself in his room all morning and afternoon. And I remember Voldemort even went in at one time. Then, when it was time to leave, my dad came out with the Veritaserum in a jar and went straight to the Ministry. The instant we arrived they took it away, obviously to test it, and then they gave it to you.”

    “We?” Ginny repeated. “You were there?”

    She could’ve sworn he looked a little embarrassed. “I wasn’t there when they gave it to you,” he admitted, “but I came with my father.”

    “Why?”

    He shrugged. “I was bored. There was nothing to do in my house.”

    “Oh,” she said softly.

    “Plus,” he added after a moment, “I wanted to see what was going to happen. I didn’t know that my father had done something to the potion for sure; I only had a hunch. But when he came out with a satisfied look on his face I knew he had changed it to make you tell the opposite of the truth.”

    There was another stretch of silence. Ginny found herself smiling, and looked up to see Draco staring at her.

    “What’s funny?”

    She smiled brighter. “This is the first time we’ve had a conversation without insulting each other,” she told him.

    He grinned, too, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I could change that. I could insult you.”

    “No, that’s all right,” she said quickly. “I like it this way better.”

    He looked at her with such intensity her heart began to beat faster. She swallowed, trying to think of something else to say, but her mind was full of strange images of throwing herself upon him and kissing him.

    Kiss Draco Malfoy? she thought, mentally horrified with herself. Since when have I wanted to kiss him?

    Then she answered her own question. Since he saved you from Kyle.

    “Draco,” she said suddenly.

    “Hmm?”

    “Why did you rescue me from the bus?” she asked, turning and fixing her eyes on him. He stared back, his expression blank.

    “Well,” he said, exhaling loudly, “why not?”

    “Because you hate me,” she said. “Because you hate my family and you hate my friends –”

    “I don’t hate you,” he interrupted. “I didn’t even know you and I never talked to you back in school. I might not have liked you, but it wasn’t exactly hate.”

    That surprised her. She had always thought he loathed her just because she was a Weasley. 

    “Well, you know me now,” she pointed out. “So do you like me?”

    He stared back at her blankly. “What’s with all the questions?” he said.

    “Just curious,” she replied, shrugging.

    “Curiosity killed the cat.”

    “I’m not a cat.”

    “Really? I didn’t know that,” he said sarcastically.

    Ginny glared. “That was so childish, Malfoy.”

    “Oh, now we’re back calling each other by our last names?”

    “I can call you whatever I want.”

    “Quite true. But let’s see how long you live if you call me anything but Draco or Malfoy.”

    “You wouldn’t kill me.”

    “Wouldn’t I?”

    “Why would you have saved me just to kill me?”

    “Why should someone else get the pleasure? I saved you so I could kill you myself.”

    He was grinning mirthlessly at her, and he was rapidly getting on her last nerve. “So much for the normal conversation,” she muttered, narrowing her eyes.

    “You started it.”

    “I did not! I asked you a question and you started to get all offensive with me,” she accused.

    He just smirked and got to his feet. She watched him walk around to the other side of the fire, then scrambled up after him. “I’m not done yet,” she said, stepping beside him.

    “Not done with what?” Draco was sneering down at her, his arms crossed.

    “Asking you questions. What do you think of me now?”

    His lips tightened. “What does it matter?”

    Yes, what does it matter? her mind screamed at her, but she ignored it. “It matters,” she said simply.

    “All right,” he said, his eyes malicious. “If you really want to know I’ll tell you. I think you’re a brat. I think your hair is too red, your eyes too wide, your skin too pale, and I think you’re too tall. I think that your brothers are nitwits and your parents need to get real jobs to support you.” He wanted to go on, but the look on her face stopped him. Draco, why can’t you just keep your mouth shut? he yelled at himself. Ginny looked between ready to burst into tears and ready to tear his head off. He sighed and uncrossed his arms. “I think,” he went on softly, “that my father is an idiot to have accused you of using the Cruciatus Curse on him and the Ministry even more of an idiot for believing him.”

    Slowly, the murderous look faded from her face and was replaced by gentle surprise. Involuntarily she took a step closer to him. “Really?” she whispered.

    He stared at her face. The light from the fire danced on her skin and glistened in the corner of her dark eyes. How could he have said those things when she was clearly the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen? It didn’t even seem to matter anymore that she was a Weasley. His lips tingled to touch hers, and suddenly he found himself lowering his head down.

    Ginny watched his eyes close as he leaned down to kiss her, and she found herself too shocked to even close her own. But the instant their mouths touched she was able to move, and pressed herself into the kiss, her eyelids sliding shut. She hadn’t imagined kissing him would feel so good, that the feel of his body against hers would give her such sensations. His hands went to her waist and pulled her closer until every part of their bodies were touching.

    The effect he had on her was dizzying. She gripped a handful of his robes to keep herself balanced, hoping she wouldn’t faint dead away. She did not want the kiss to ever end. Every nerve was on fire, aware of each caress of his hands, each brush of his fingers.

    Ginny had been kissed before, but never like this. She’d wanted a guy before but never so badly. Even the fact that he was Draco Malfoy made it seem better, more challenging.

    Her heart began to pound as the kiss got deeper, and his lips began to demand more of hers. She felt his hands everywhere, but she didn’t care. It all felt so right . . .

    And then his lips were off hers, and she nearly whimpered out loud in disappointment. She opened her eyes to stare into his, and saw a look of such gentleness it warmed her heart. Draco Malfoy was being gentle – and he was being gentle to her.

    “We should get some sleep,” he said huskily, and dropped his hands from her back. He turned and walked around to the other side of the fire.

    Ginny watched him, suddenly feeling cold. What was that about?

    Suddenly, the sound of leaves crunching under feet was heard. Ginny jerked around to face where it was coming from, and gasped as someone stepped into the clearing rather warily.

    “Harry?” Ginny cried.

 

 

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