With you in my Arms

72. "Are you all like that?"

The young man made sure his collar was up and his baseball cap pulled low into his face. He wanted to find this strange telephone box before it got dark. The letter had been a bit hazy about the exact location, but the mention of a well paid job let him forget about the weirdness that stuck to this scenario.

Who in their right minds would have an owl of all things have deliver a letter? A letter that was handwritten in ink and of which the corners had been folded over to the middle and sealed with a large wax seal. He felt the letter in his jacket pocket.

Once he found the telephone box he had to state his business to be with the Auror Office. He had been trying to find out what exactly that was, but had drawn a blank. Was somebody trying to recruit him as a spook by any chance? I couldn't care less really. It had taken him the best part of three months to hitchhike and work his way to London from the south coast of France. The trip over the Channel in that fisher boat made him still sick just thinking about it. It had been a rather rough night and the crew had made sure he worked his way across.

His stomach rumbled. He looked around. There was a small... was that supposed to be a pub? It was wedged between a two shops and seemed to be fazing in and out of reality. He focused on it and pulled the door open.

A warm and welcoming atmosphere was surrounding him. It wasn't the best lit place he had ever been in. For some strange reason the only light spending devices were candles and large lanterns. The clientèle looked rather peculiar as well. There were men with wide robes and woman with the proverbial witches' hats on.

He slowly walked to the bar. The bartender looked at him.

"What can I get you."

"A beer."

"One butterbeer, coming up."

'Butterbeer?'

Moments later a glass was placed in front of him.

"Two Sickles."

"Sickles?"

"Yes, two Sickles."

He looked carefully around. Was this some kind of really weird episode of Candid Camera?

The man behind the bar cleared his throat. He was clearly expecting payment.

"Can I work for it?"

A rather strange expression greeted this question. It wasn't one he had encountered before when asking for the possibility to work his way towards a bed and a meal.

"I'm still in control of my own wand, lad."

He was what?

"You're not from round here, are you?"

He shook his head.

"I'm over from France. On a job offer."

"Oh, a frog." there was a sigh going with these words. "Okay, lad, here in Britain we pay with Knuts, Sickles and Galleons. I don't know, what's being used on the continent, but here we prefer hard currency."

He was absolutely sure that Pound Sterling was still the official tender the last time he paid something earlier in the day, but this whole...

"... send somebody to Gringott's to exchange your Muggle money."

What ever was a... Carefully a ten pound note was extracted from the bag he carried around his neck before it was handed to the barman.

'Lets play along and see what happens.'

"Ted! Go and exchange this, will you."

A hunchback with a crocked smile took the money and vanished through the back door.

The time it would take to get his money exchanged was used for the re-reading of the letter that had brought him here.

We want to offer you a job with us in London. You seem to be just the right man. Come to London and then follow the instructions below to find us. State your business as with the Auror Office and somebody will be coming for you.

He folded the parchment. It wasn't even paper but parchment and he was now sitting in a bar that had its own currency. He could just hope that the job would be worth all this.

After another five minutes the hunchback was back and handed him a small pouch.

"Your money, Sir." he bowed.

There were coins in the pouch. He stared at them, real bronze and silver coins. There was even a gold one. This was absolutely bizarre, but what the heck? If he ever found this Auror Office they might be able to explain to him what was going on.

The barman had meanwhile wandered into the kitchen. Unseen by his foreign patron he scribbled a quick note and then send one of the maids to the Ministry of Magic with it.

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Draco sleepily rolled over and looked at his wife. She was still fast asleep. For a moment he was just marvelling at her understated beauty as the moon lit up the room. That was until he felt eyes staring at the back of his head. Slowly turning over he saw Turo standing at the edge of the bed.

"What?" he hissed.

"Master come downstairs."

He glared at the house elf.

"Why?"

He semi turned and looked at the clock on the night stand. It was 4:30 am. He groaned.

"Miss Ginny wanting to talk to Master."

"Who?"

"Miss Ginny, Master."

"Why is she here at this time of night?" he muttered.

"Turo don't know. She insists on speaking to Master."

"Fine, tell her I'll be down shortly."

The elf disapparated.

Draco struggled out off bed, trying his best not to wake the now mumbling girl still in it. He put his bathrobe on and then descented the stairs.

Deep down he knew that this chat could only be about Blaise and what had happened since Ginny's first close encounter with his mate at the wedding. It seemed ages ago.

He found the witch that had invaded his house in the wee hours of the morning in the living room.

She had a determined expression on her face.

"I've to talk to you, Malfoy."

He gestured towards the couch and chairs. They sat down and Turo appeared with a large teapot and biscuits.

"Talk." Draco quietly said.

"I have been... talking to Blaise."

He noted the fact that she actually used the first name of his friend, but didn't say anything.

"Are you all like that?" she asked in a calm voice.

"You mean, if we all go for girls that we shouldn't go for? No, we aren't."

She huffed.

"That's not what I meant."

"What did you mean?" he enquired, but he had a fair idea though.

"Blaise is so... so... It's like the world would end, if he can't be with me. It's insane. There's no reason in it."

For a moment there was the silence of deliberation on the wizard's part.

"Do you know about Snape?"

"Snape? What about him?"

"He loved the mother of your fiancé to the point of putting his own life on the line in order to do the right thing after she died."

Ginny had known about their former Potions master to be romantically involved with her dead mother-in-law, but Harry had never talked about any details he might know about it.

"They grew up together and were then sorted into different houses. Potter's mother was a Griffindor, he a Slytherin of course."

She knew that. He remained silent for a moment before continuing.

"Something seems to happen to us when we're falling for one of your lot. Something within us makes us... more alive. We suddenly see the world in a way that wasn't possible before. To love a Griffindor is like venturing into a town you've never been in before, but are supposed to find your way around. You're so noble, so courageous, it's upsetting."

His grey eyes found the blue-grey of Ginny. He could see that she still didn't quite understand.

"We're like light and dark, like sun and moon, like day and night. We're opposites. Your pride is nothing in comparison to ours. We don't do anything by half. If we find the one for us, she'll know it. No true Slytherin would give up on the pursuit of the girl that makes him feel like you and Lea are making Blaise and me feel."

She fidgeted with the hem of her jumper.

"Ginny?"

She looked up, surprise on her face.

"Do you love him?"

Oh, Merlin! She knew the answer to this question, but she didn't want to voice it. He waited patiently.

"Yes." she finally whispered.

"But you're going to marry Potter anyway."

It wasn't so much a question as a statement. She nodded.

"Why?"

She closed her eyes and sighed in desperation. She would love nothing better than to be with the dark skinned wizard and the one she'd had a crush on since she was ten years old and saw him for the first time at King's Cross Station in London.

"I love Harry."

"But you although love Blaise."

"Of course, I love him." she wailed.

The composed exterior she had been showing before was gone in a flash. Draco saw the girl underneath now. She was torn between the love she had been harbouring and hoping for all these years only to finally be rewarded with Harry kissing her unexpectedly and this intense, mind shattering, soul scorching love that radiated of the Slytherin who had his sights set on her. She didn't want to choose. She wanted to feel the fierce fire that was burning through her when she felt Blaise' arms around her. She wanted to feel the tender touch that was letting her gasp with its intensity. There was nothing that compared to his smouldering gaze when he had stripped her soul bare with his eyes. She could taste life in these moments.