was as if her brother had clasped his hand around a live coal: his palm and wrist were marked with a livid, bleeding burn in the shape of the sword hilt, and the imprint of the carved metal serpents had burned themselves into his skin, almost down to the bone. He had been shaking with pain and reaction until the mediwitch had given him some relaxation juice.
Now he lay quiet, flushed with sleep and fever, his red hair pasted to his forehead in sweaty locks.
Ginny leaned over and quickly kissed him on the temple, just where the silvery mark Rowena had left there was still shining. Then she straightened up and went out of the tent.
Her eyes were blurred with tears, and it was a few moments before she was able to focus on the fact that the person waiting for her outside the tent was not Ben, but Draco. He was leaning against one of the wooden tent supports, looking vaguely skittish, in that way that cats sometimes look, when they?re quite uncomfortable where they are but still refuse to move. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt, and his light silver eyes stood out in clear contrast. A little shiver ran up her spine at the memory of sitting on the dragon in front of him, feeling his arms around her and the muscles in his chest hard against her spine, his hands over hers on the reins.
'Rons all right,' she said, and scrubbed hard at her eyes with the back of her hand. 'If you were wondering.'
'I was wondering.' Dracos eyes were cool and remote. 'I owe him now. Again.'
'You saved his life, too,' she said.
'Hes still two for one,' said Draco.
'Yeah, yeah, and no Malfoy can owe a Weasley anything, family honor, blah blah blah,' said Ginny irritably. 'Wheres Ben? I want to talk to him.'
Draco uncurled his arm and pointed a long, elegant, disdainful sort of finger in the direction of the next tent. 'He went thataway,' he said. 'He said he?d be back soon.'
'Soon? What does that mean, soon?'
Draco raised one eyebrow, which was something she?d always wished she could do. 'Later than right now, earlier than never.'
?'Thank you. How helpful.'
The wind had picked up and blew Dracos blond hair into his eyes; he pushed it away with an impatient hand. 'I aim to please.'
'Maybe you should aim a little lower, and try for being somewhat tolerable.'
'Ouch,' Draco straightened up, eyes sparking. 'Aren?t we cranky, Weasley. And after our touching interlude last night, I rather thought you had feelings for me.'
'I do have feelings for you,' said Ginny firmly. 'Feelings of loathing and great irritation.'
'So you decided to fill the gap with Mr. Poncy Git in the leather tights?'
'They?re breeches,' corrected Ginny. 'And Ben is not a poncy git, hes the Heir of Gryffindor.'
'Harry is the Heir of Gryffindor,' snapped Draco. The cold wind had blown color into his cheeks. Either that, or he was more angry than he was letting on. 'Do we need more than one? Do they come in six-packs?'
'These are Bens soldiers!' said Ginny heatedly, gesturing at the camp all around them. 'I couldn?t have done any of this without him.'
'Well, if I?d known that what you were looking for was a man with a really large…'
'No need to be nasty.'
'…Contingent of armed forces, I was going to say.' Draco grinned, a grin that turned suddenly considering. 'Let me get this straight. You went back in time to retrieve Mr. Poncy Git and his army, and then you came back here?'
Ginny nodded.
'You could have spent months back in time with this guy. Getting acquainted. Very well acquainted. How do we know you didn?t?'
'You don?t.' Ginny spoke serenely.
'And are you going to provide any further clarification on that?'
'Nope.'
'And now you?re just trying to annoy me,' Draco observed.
'Yes, I am,' said Ginny. 'And by the way, behold my success.'
'I thought all you Weasleys were supposed to be nice people,' said Draco, looking somewhat mournful.
Ginny suppressed another grin. 'Theres a lot about me you don?t know,' she said.
Draco gave her a long look. 'Apparently,' he said, and she got the feeling that he wasn?t, after all, actually angry, and that he was playing with her as he often did. Usually, however, he won. This time, she had a feeling it was a draw. She felt his considering glance on her and realized that she was shivering in the cool night breeze.
'You?re cold,' he observed, and pulled off the black sweater he was wearing. The resultant static electricity haloed his silver hair around his head. He had another black shirt on underneath, the sleeve of which was torn. Always black, she thought. 'Take it,' he said.
'I?m really fine, Draco.'
'Come on. You gave me your sweater once.'
She blinked. It took her a moment before she remembered that she had given him her cardigan to dry his
