Not Quite Broken - Part 2 Title: Not Quite Broken - Part 2 Summary: Ginny has become extremely mentally unstable, showing up at the Malfoy residence with no explanation. Draco tries to figure out whether he wants to know what is going on more than he wants her out of his house. However, very few things happen as planned and he finds out the Weasleys sometimes have dark secrets of their own. Characters/Pairings: Draco/Ginny Genre: gen? Rating/Warnings: R / cutting/self-harm Word Count: 5456
Draco stared at the redheaded auror. He would have been amused at the accusation had he not known without question precisely how short the other's temper was.
"What have you done to her, Malfoy?" Ron screamed, his wand in Draco's face, shaking with the rest of the body.
He took a breath, wishing his parents were here to deal with the idiot instead of taking a holiday in France. "I've not done anything to anyone, Weasley," he responded, far more calmly than he felt.
"She keeps talking about you, and how she has to take the potion, and when she doesn't know I'm listening she's talking about trying to get back to your house to find you."
Draco narrowed his eyes, "Weasley, all I have done in regards to your sister is to pick her up, carry her to the house, and aid my mother in nursing her when she went completely insane on my property. I did not call her. I did not ask for her. And I certainly was not the one who insisted she take the potion." His patience was wearing thin, though part of him wondered if that was more because he didn't want the Weasley girl wanting to find him. "Are you sure you didn't misunderstand. She likely meant looking for Potter."
"Don't be daft, Malfoy," Ron accused, jabbing him in the chest with the point of his wand, "She broke it off with Harry. Just after she was here."
Draco raised an eyebrow. She'd broken it off with Potter? The girl had more sense than he gave her credit for. "I hardly keep up with the social affairs of your family, Weasley. I haven't seen her, but if I do, I promise to return your missing property." He winced as Ron poked him with his wand again, though he couldn't really be expected to always be nice to the idiot, could he?
"She's not property."
"No, she's not. Which also means, so far as I'm aware, that as she's of age, she can come and go as she pleases." Defending Ginny wasn't in his mind as he did so; it was simply that irritating the wizard before him was far too much fun to pass up.
"If I find out you've been keeping her locked up here for some sex slave business and you've guilted her into thinking she owes you--"
Draco held up his hand and touched Ron's wand with two fingers, moving it away from his chest. "I believe we're done. I'm not sure where you came up with that idea, but maybe you should have your own mental health checked out. I will not even dignify your accusation with a defence. Good-bye, Mr Weasley."
He shut the door against the screaming accusations and promises of vengeance. Draco closed his eyes and exhaled slowly. Nearly four years of peace and now the Weasleys had to bombard his life, forcing their insanity on him. He knew his mother's family had mental instability. He could recognize it easily. She'd seemed unaffected, and he had always considered his need to please his parents are part of his Black heritage. This, though, was an entirely different monster.
It had been two weeks since Ginny had shown up behind him. Two weeks of attempted peace. He'd called on Astoria a fair amount during that time. She'd commented on it once, something he thought classless, and had asked her if she minded.
Still, the extra measures he'd taken to extract from his life the ability to become the hero to a girl who should have meant nothing to him had only suppressed his traitorous thoughts. Malfoys weren't heroes. They were the power behind the throne, be it a proper throne or the Wizengamot and the Minister for Magic. They did not seek the spotlight on their own behalf for the spotlight was far too fickle.
He groaned. He needed to get the Weasley spotlight off him. It wasn't healthy to have that many Gryffindors poking around. They got ideas. Like the one Weasley had come out with. Draco shook his head and pushed away from the door and headed back to the parlour, confident that his unwelcome visitor had truly left. Where had he come up with such nonsense? Had he come up with some bizarre plot to use Ginny to destroy the Weasleys it would have made more sense, not that it would have been any more true, but it would have at least had precedent. His parents would not return for another week. At least by then hopefully the errant Weasley would have returned to the fold and he wouldn't have to inform them of the new depths to which the youngest Weasley male could lower himself.
In another attempt to push the unworthy family from his mind, he picked up the book he'd been forced to abandon earlier. Since the war, he'd taken up a personal study in potions, his private tribute to the wizard who had attempted to protect him throughout his childhood.
"Master Draco?"
He arched an eyebrow, refusing to take his eyes away from a particularly interesting essay on the varied uses of poisonous plants in healing potions. "Yes?"
"Master Draco, there is a visitor in the garden."
The elf had to dodge his arm as he lowered the book violently. He hadn't been aiming for the elf, or anything in particular for that matter. "Bloody Weasel doesn't know when to stop. I'll have his job for this."
Milly scurried back, bowing continually and wringing her hands as Draco stormed from the parlour to the garden door. He opened it quickly, the rush of air blowing his fringe back. His lips pursed, he scanned the garden for the red hair he knew would be there. His frown deepened when he couldn't see any above the hedges and roses. He turned a scowl on the elf.
"I thought you said we had a visitor, Milly."
"We does, Master Draco. She's in the far corner," a shaking hand pointed to the far southeastern corner of the garden.
She.
Draco was out the door, his feet heading toward the edge of the garden in a quick smooth stride. She was too short to see over the hedges. Ron was tall, but Ginny was on the short side, even for a witch. He tried to cool the anger welling up within him. For her to show up after the accusation her brother made would just not do.
Rounding a corner, he stopped short. Ginny was there, sitting on the ground, knees up to her chest. She was dressed in a nightgown and slippers.
Before he could let out the groan of frustration he wanted to scream to the world, she looked up at him. "Don't tell them."
The scream died in his throat. He'd expected her to cringe. He'd expected her to accuse him of hunting her down. Or at least to make some blithe comment about of course he'd find her, but to have her only words a plea to not tell her family was not what he expected.
He opened his mouth to respond as his eyes took in the rest of her posture. She was in pain, and there was blood on her nightgown. "I'm taking you to the house. Can you walk or shall I carry you again?"
He was perversely comforted as she pulled away, grabbing her wand with her right hand and holding her left to her chest as she stood up.
"What's wrong with your arm?" he asked. His irritation with her was growing. Once again he was feeling the need to take care of her when there were many far more worthy occupations in which to engage.
She shook her head, "Nothing! I just fell and cut my arm on a rock."
Draco narrowed his eyes at her blatant lie. He reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm toward him. Where he'd gotten the boldness to do such a thing, he wasn't sure. He wanted to blame it on her brother's accusation from earlier.
When his eyes looked at the scarring on her left forearm, he nearly dropped it in shock. He inhaled so sharply it sounded like a hiss, "What the hell have you done?" he whispered.
"See? Nothing for you to worry about! I don't want anyone worrying about me anymore than they already do. I'm fine!" she protested, trying to pull away from him, but his grip was too strong.
"Weasley, this is--" he couldn't bring himself to say the words. The copy job was poor, but still distinct, the snake emerging from the skull clear enough to make out. Some of the marks were raised scars, some scabbed over, some were still bleeding.
"I know what it is! I put it there!"
He wanted to cast her away, to push her bodily out of his home, his land and his life. To actively carve that symbol into her flesh was something he couldn't understand. Oh, he'd taken the Mark as a child. He'd even wanted it at the time. But for one of the champions of light to do this to herself? She really was ill. She had to be, and Weasley had known it. He hadn't wanted to admit it, even at the potential cost of his sister's life.
Decision made, Draco pulled her with him. "We're getting that cleaned up."
"I don't want to go with you! I don't want to owe you! Look I--"
He cut her off. "You do owe me. You owe me explanations as to why you've come here a second time, and now you're cutting yourself in our garden? No, Weasley, you're not going anywhere until I have a few answers."
She gaped at him, muttering incoherent protests. He ignored them all as he dragged her back to the house and to the parlour. "Milly! Water and a flannel!"
"Look, you don't have to do this. Just let me go and we can pretend I was never here."
He rolled his eyes, still not releasing her wrist. "No, we can't. Your brother was here earlier and he had a few colourful accusations for me in regards to you." He nodded as her freckles stood up more starkly as she paled. "Oh yes. Apparently he knows you've been talking about coming here to look for someone." He dipped the flannel in the water and began to dab at her arm.
"I can do that. Besides, why are you even doing it that way?" she asked, irritation lacing her voice.
He shoved the flannel into her other hand and released her wrist finally. "Magically induced. Carving something like that into your arm, how was I to know it wouldn't react to magic?"
"I wasn't here looking for you," she muttered, not countering his argument against magic as she continued the slow cleaning of her arm.
"Well, he seems to think you were, but I can see you weren't. So why?"
"Why what?"
"Let's start with why are you looking for HIM?" his voice steel as he stared at her with equally cold eyes.
"You wouldn't understand."
"Try me."
She stared at him, brown eyes reflecting fear before she began to look around, not answering. "All right, let's try another. Why would your brother think that your break-up with Potter had anything to do with me?"
She winced and stopped cleaning. He watched her, waiting for her to respond. When she didn't, he sat back and crossed his arms. She seemed to notice that, and her eyes flashed for a moment before returning to being very guarded.
"It didn't."
"Good to hear," he agreed.
She set the flannel down on the table. "You won't understand, and you'll just use this against my family so if you'll excuse me, I'll just be on my way."
She made to stand up, but he was faster and stood over her, forcing her to either press against him or sit back down. She chose the latter.
"Whether I understand or not, you're going to explain a few things, as no sane person cuts themselves intentionally, let alone to resemble a symbol against which she fought for how many years? So either you talk with me or I Stun you and take you to St Mungo's."
Part of him argued that if he just took her to St Mungo's, he'd finally get what he wanted, her out of his life. The rest knew that anyone outside his own family would likely see the design as dangerous to the world at large instead of her own self-destruction. While it would be far too entertaining to watch the Weasley clan implode, he would not do it at the expense of someone else the Dark Lord had tortured into doing his bidding.
In an instant, he realized that they had something in common, something no one else in their lives had. They'd both been forced as children to do a madman's bidding. He by coercion, she by possession. He wondered if she realized he knew of hers. He knew she couldn't know the extent of his.
Ginny crumpled at the threat of St Mungo's. "You'd love that, wouldn't you? Have the whole world know what I carve into my arm?"
He rolled his eyes and moved toward his own chair again. "Oh yes, well while it would be vastly amusing to see the fall- out, I'm afraid I'll pass. I think they'd be too wrapped up in their own fears and obsessions to actually help you."
Her face shot up and stared at him openly. So, no one had actually cared enough about her to put their own desires aside? Was that it?
She looked back down at her arm, tracing the pattern and wincing occasionally when she'd touch a new wound. "I'm beyond saving."
"Even for Potter? I thought he had a saviour of the world complex or something," he drawled. As she curled her shoulders more, he sighed loudly, "Oh for Circe's sake--"
"I don't want to be saved."
Draco stared at her, well aware that he had to look like an idiot.
"I don't want to be his charity case."
He kept his mouth shut about her family being the definition of a charity case, impressed with his self-control.
"So you want to destroy yourself? Granted, that symbol's destroyed many lives, but I had thought you stronger than that."
"So you think I'm weak?" she spat.
Draco clenched his fist below the table, then flexed his fingers, hoping to regain some semblance of control over the situation before he too went insane and killed the both of them. Instead of opening his mouth, he unrolled his left sleeve and put his arm out on the table. "Care to rephrase your accusation, Weasley?"
"I'm not afraid of you."
"That wasn't the point." The point, he wanted to strangle her with each syllable, is that you are a complete bint who cannot seem to get I am attempting to show you that taking it wasn't weakness. None of that made it past his lips, however. "Look, I have it too, so now that we've established we've both been used by him, can we move on?"
The admission didn't quite have the desired effect as she turned into a hellcat again, slamming her hands down on the table. "You don't know anything about me! What, do you and your father share laughs over what happened to me? Do you think it was a good joke? Ha ha, Ginny Weasley's been scarred for life and we can never have the crime pinned on us?"
Draco covered his scar deliberately, taking the time to think through how his mother would have manipulated the situation. He knew his father wouldn't have managed to keep his cool much further, if at all had it been Arthur spitting those words at him, and losing his temper would not be productive at this point.
"Actually, no. I believe I heard the full story only once after my father escaped Azkaban in preparation for the Dark Lord taking up residence here. Since that night, it has never been spoken of in our home."
She seemed stunned into silence at his calm admission. Draco supposed it was worthy of that reaction. He took advantage of it and waved his wand, cleaning up the water, but leaving the flannel. Once that was done, he leaned back into his chair slightly.
"Now, care to explain to me why you are carving his symbol onto your arm?"
She shuddered and stared at it silently. They remained that way for long enough Draco began entertaining the thought of Legilimency, wondering if he could justify the measure.
"He destroyed me. Since then, all I've been is fragile Ginny. Everyone's little burden." The words were so soft, had there been any noise in the house he might have missed them. He remained quiet, but sat up slightly. "I don't want to be anyone's burden. They all had to protect me. And even Fred," her voice cracked, "Fred died trying to keep me safe. I can't be responsible for everyone giving up their happiness for me."
Draco nodded slowly, fancying that he understood her for the first time in their nearly ten year history. Potter with his saviour complex would have been far too protective, smotheringly so. She was not only his best friend's sister, she was the girl he loved. And her family with a mother already prone to fits of cloying adoration would have become a prison easily. Whereas his family had been a trap down one path, not allowing for any exploration of its opposite, hers was the same, only the path was different.
"I left Harry because he didn't really love me. He loved taking care of me. Telling me where to be, what to do. He wanted to protect me from everything."
"But he can't protect you from yourself," Draco offered, relieved when she shook her head agreeing with him. "He can't protect you from what the Dark Lord did to you because he believes that the influence should have died when the Dark Lord did."
Ginny nodded, then looked at him. "You're making fun of me."
He wanted to indulge in the accusation, show her what making her into the butt of a joke would truly entail, but he refrained. "No. I am stating simple observation."
"You still support him."
There was no need to ask for clarification. They both knew who she meant. He stared at her arm, at the crude unfinished snake staring at him. No one had asked him that, even at his trial, no one had cared to find out. It was simply a given, an expectation.
"I support no one who feels he should outrank family," he answered.
She seemed surprised by his answer, but not offended as she nodded thoughtfully. "But you call him the," she stopped unable or unwilling to use the same phrase.
"Dark Lord because it was his title," he supplied. Not liking the direction of the conversation, he decided to shift the focus back to the current situation. If he didn't do something, he was going to end up little better than her. He clamped down on his own insecurities, his own nightmares in regards to the war and took a breath. "Now, obviously you aren't interested in being someone's damsel in distress, so where to from here?"
"I'm not your problem, Malfoy."
"Obviously, Weasley, you are. We're each other's problem," he amended hoping to avoid her deciding to completely shut down again. He didn't need a repeat of the previous visit. "How are you my problem?" she countered, her voice tinged with an edge.
"Because if I were not, you would not seek your self- destruction on my family's land."
"It could be your father, you know, the one who actually tried to kill me."
He arched a pale eyebrow, "Shall I call him for you? He and my mother are on holiday, but I'm sure they could make an exception."
She reached across and grabbed his arm quickly. "No, that's fine." He smirked at her, his eyes making a point of glancing between her face and her hand. "Fine," she released his arm.
"You are my problem, all right?"
He wanted to ask her why he was her problem, but decided against it. If today had been any indication, there would be plenty of time to get the answer.
"All right," he agreed blandly. "How long have you been gone?"
"What?"
"How long have you been away from your family? Your brother showed up here today looking for you."
Ginny cringed, "Why can't he keep out of my business?"
Draco had several comments about things Ron should keep out of. The grounds around Malfoy Manor were first among them. He couldn't quite bring himself to defend the dolt, however, so he kept silent.
"I told him I would let him know if you showed up," he raised his hand to keep her from arguing as she opened her mouth, "I'm not going to, but you're going to need to do something."
Ginny slumped in her chair, shaking her head. "I can't go back right now. I'll just end up a burden again."
To mention that she was being a burden by remaining missing seemed counterproductive. She'd likely end up a complete blubbering mess again. He couldn't handle that, not on his own. He sighed. He should have followed through on his instincts and shoved her bodily from his garden when he first found her. His mother's voice echoed through his head, soft but impossible to ignore with its repetition. The longer he delayed, the more he argued against the concept, the louder the voice got, the deeper the internalized voice's disapproval became.
Draco made a mental note to kill his mother. There had to be an exclusionary clause to the directive, but she'd never seen fit to offer it to him. He would have to play host, offer to take care of her.
"I'll arrange for an owl other than mine so that you can write to him. Tell him whatever you like, only," he stood up and stared at her pointedly, "Don't tell him you're here."
"You, you're expecting me to stay here?" she asked, her voice squeaking slightly.
"I'm being a gracious host."
"Is that it?" her tone had grown colder, a timber of which he hadn't realized she was capable. His mother's voice continued her litany. He groaned.
"No, look, I'm not a cretin, despite your brother's accusations. I'm offering you safety, and, well, I'm honestly hoping for some answers in return." He tried to smirk, but it didn't end up feeling as confident as he'd wanted to portray. "Besides, you're just going to keep coming back, so why not just cut out the middle man as it were?"
She stood up, brown eyes studying him, their gaze penetrating enough to make Draco uncomfortable. He tried to harden his own silver orbs, reeling somewhat as she smiled and nodded.
"See something you like, Weasley?" he asked reflexively.
She shrugged, "Just something that lets me understand you a bit more."
Draco's curiosity sprang into full form before he could censor himself. He knew better than to ask questions he wasn't entirely sure he wanted to know the answers to. Still, his lips had begun moving before his brain had fully engaged. "And what's that?" He frowned slightly at how defensive his voice sounded.
"It's a look my brother Charlie gets when he's doing something because Mum wants him to. So, where am I sleeping?"
--
Two days later, Draco was enjoying tea as he watched the first rays of sun climb over the horizon. He had never been one for sleeping overly long unless thoroughly exhausted. The peacocks were just waking, their intermittent calls the only interruption to the morning silence.
Ginny had taken up his hospitality for all of twelve hours. He'd shown her to a guest room, where she'd promptly curled up on the bed. Milly had reported that the girl did eat the tray of sandwiches he'd had sent up, but the next morning, the room was empty and the bed made. Draco tried not to worry to much about it. He'd offered his hospitality, his mother couldn't fault him. He refused to chase the witch down. That wasn't part of being a gentleman. She'd obviously found his proposition not in her favour and had bowed out of it before he could ask her further questions.
His mind wandered to her arm and the scarring she was doing to herself. No sane person did those things. He'd never even heard of anyone inflicting that level of damage on himself prior to seeing her arm. There was a small nagging voice warning him he couldn't handle this on his own. The larger, more rational voice argued that she was doing it with a purpose and while he may not have the experience, he was one of the few people who would be willing to try to understand. He knew he was right, St Mungo's would only worry about the symbol itself. They'd likely come up with some idiotic theory about how she was really a vessel for the non-existent remnants of the Dark Lord's soul.
He raised the cup for another sip when he heard the crack. Setting the cup down, he turned in the direction of the sound to see Ginny standing there. She was dressed Muggle-style in a pair of blue jeans and a tee shirt with a blue and white printed design on it. Given how she'd looked the last two times he'd seen her, he'd forgotten the girl actually did have other clothes.
"Good morning," he intoned, rising to his feet.
"I didn't expect you were going to be up," she admitted, her hands clasped together but still fidgeting.
"Hoping to avoid me?" he asked, not sure if he was amused or irritated with her.
She shook her head, "No, not exactly. I came to thank you."
Draco arched an eyebrow, "For?"
He watched her take a deep breath, her hands wringing together furiously. "For helping me. I went back to my flat, wrote my mother, and I'm, taking a leave of absence from the team for a bit. I need to take some time." Her voice was shaking and she'd taken far more breaths than she needed to.
He nodded and motioned to the chair next to the one he'd been occupying. "I'll have Milly bring out more tea."
Ginny took a few steps forward, then paused. "What's in it for you?"
Draco chuckled darkly, "I have to have an ulterior motive, is that it?" At her nod, he shrugged, "The easy answer? Because my mother taught me to be a proper host?"
The redhead continued toward the table and sat down. "It's not your true answer, but I'll accept it for now."
He sat down as well, but waited until Milly had brought another cup and saucer before taking his own. He watched as Ginny poured herself tea and move as if nothing were wrong. The difference in her movements from a moment ago were striking. When she was focused on something easy, something mundane, she could pass for sane. It was only when she began to focus on her location or why she was here that her movements became erratic.
Draco shook his head and took a sip of his tea.
"Why are you shaking your head?"
"Because, for as crazy as you are, sometimes you can seem extremely normal."
She laughed, a hollow self-deprecating sound. "Yes, well, serving tea isn't exactly a stressful activity for me. Besides, it's not like I cut myself every day, only when things have been particularly difficult."
He wondered when they had passed from not talking about her insanity to it being conversation fit for tea. However, years of being around other Slytherins had left its own mark on Draco and he was not about to pass up the opportunity, no matter how bizarre.
"What do you mean?"
Ginny made him wait as she took a leisurely sip of her tea. "I knew you wouldn't have been able to resist that. I just, I have days when I feel more," she worried her lip apparently searching for a word or the courage to say the word. "Tainted? Worthless? Doing that," her eyes flicked to her left arm meaningfully, "Is like a release valve. The more I can put on the outside, the less I feel it inside?" She shook her head, "I'm not sure if that makes sense."
Draco stared at the rising sun instead of the girl next to him. "And when you finish the design?" he asked softly, not necessarily wanting the answer but knowing it was important to ask.
"I don't know. I'm not sure I want to finish it."
The sheer rawness of her voice shook his resolve. He nodded, "It's a horrible thing to be Marked with."
"I know."
Draco drank his tea, having no words to say for or against her admission.
They sat together, drinking tea as the sun continued to rise. Draco had spent several mornings like this with his parents, silently enjoying each other's company as well as the serenity the rising sun brought. The whole scenario was frighteningly normal for two people who had been mortal enemies not five years prior.
As he watched her, he noticed how easy her movements were, except when the peacocks would call. She'd jump slightly, nearly spilling her tea. Then, when she'd realized the source, her stance would ease. Rabbits, he decided, were less skittish.
"I didn't mean to run off." Her soft denial breaking the silence.
Draco looked at her, gray eyes meeting brown, "Yes you did." The rebuttal was simple, clean. He was not accusing her, nor judging her; he just did not believe her.
"Fine, I did, but I didn't want to."
"No?" his voice was soft as he tried to sound as soothing as his mother could. "Was it my apparent change of heart or are you trying a new method of self-destruction?" He couldn't completely keep his own conclusion from entering the conversation.
"I don't know," she answered into her tea. "Maybe both?"
Draco tried to tell himself that at least she was now being honest. That he didn't like the idea of being used as her method of self-harm was simply the distaste of being used as a tool again.
"Well, sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not really in the mood to help destroy you." She chuckled at that. "Likely a good thing."
He furrowed his brow, convinced some form of Confundus spell had to have hit her. The witch's laughter wasn't quite right, not just the sound, but the manner and timing as well.
"My parents will be returning in a few days," he offered, testing to see how she'd react to the idea of his family.
She shuddered and nodded. "Will your father be upset that you let me stay here?"
"No, but they'll want to know why." Ginny cringed, curling a little tighter into herself as she hid behind her teacup. He rolled his eyes slightly, "Look, it's not like my mother will judge you harshly. She has two of us."
"Your father will laugh," she whispered.
"No, he won't. You'll see." Draco knew his father would understand the gravity of the situation, and hopefully he would separate out the tragedy of the daughter from his desire to destroy the father. Draco felt reasonably sure he would.
"It never goes away, does it?" she asked. She'd set her cup back on the table and was now curled up, knees to chest again.
Whether she'd meant the physical or the mental scars, Draco wasn't sure. "No, it doesn't," he answered softly. "But we learn to manage. We learn to live."
"What did he do to you?"
However gentle and soft her voice, the question was a blow to his chest. For a moment, he couldn't breathe and he set his own cup down in an attempt to stall or focus.
"Imagine all manner of horrible things you would do to protect your parents, to keep them alive." He wanted to mimic her position, to hide from what he'd done, even though he thought he'd come to terms with it long ago. While now he could think of things that would have truly broken him, things his sixteen and seventeen year-old self couldn't even comprehend, what he'd been through had been the worst of what he had been able to imagine then. He had never been the sadist his aunt was. He had never taken pleasure out of his duties as a Death Eater. From the moment his father had been arrested, his life had turned upside down. Suddenly the status had come with a whole slew of responsibilities he wasn't sure he'd ever want to be capable of completing.
Draco was relieved the only response he received was a nod followed by more silence. Most of the things he'd been asked to do had come out during his trial, most, but not all. He had no desire to delve into that part of his past.
"That's awful," she said finally. "I'm sorry you went through that."
He shrugged, "As I said, we've both been used by him. Maybe that's the real reason I'm helping you out."
She smiled slightly, an expression he almost missed. "Maybe, but I don't know that I've ever heard of a Slytherin doing anything for only one reason."
He returned the smile, "Why, Weasley, I underestimated you."
She shrugged, "It happens."
He poured them both more tea then glanced at her covertly. "You know you'll have to face your family sooner or later."
Ginny took her cup, the slight tremors accentuated by the act of holding the tea steady. "I know, but not now. I, Draco, I told my mother I can't see Ron right now. I asked her to tell him to stop. I can't be a burden on them, and if I go back, that's all I'll ever be."
"Draco?" he asked as his brain processed the rest of her statement. "We're on a first name basis?"
Another shrug, "Figured it made sense. With me staying here and all."
So she was accepting his hospitality in truth then. He nodded, "Staying here and trying to sort yourself out?"
She nodded from behind the delicate porcelain.
"You won't find the Dark Lord here, Ginny," he countered, his voice somber.
"I know. Maybe that's the biggest appeal. I thought I would, but here, I don't feel so crazy."