Disclaimer: I don't own much. In fact, I don't think I own anything. JKR does, and I give her credit for the setting and characters.
-Though My Heart Is From Hell-
Chapter 3
For the second night, I could not sleep. Damn him, I thought over and over again-because he was the one that haunted me day and night. I was not stupid. But to think of such a fantastic plan-this feat seemed nearly impossible. I have already told you that I had watched him from afar for many, many years. How does one change the life of a man who seems to have no feelings? An ice statue; constantly frozen, beautiful…and full of hatred. Even the greatest and warmest of fires could not melt that. I laughed at myself, I ridiculed myself, because here I was, laying in my soft bed, fantasizing crazy dreams that were just that-dreams.
I can give you power…
But I had to try. No more sleep for me, I had decided. Not that I had gotten any.
I got up, pacing holes in the floors, before I sat back down at my desk, working in the dim candlelight. So many thoughts flew in, and I sat there, fingers tapping the wood furiously, my pen waiting patiently to be used.
Weakness.
It hissed in my ear so stealthily…I had read in so many fairytales--of happy couples and a jealous bystander-and how he plotted to kill the hero. Weakness. It came to me so quickly, so simply, and I thanked god for it. But just like every story, there were numerous problems with the first step. I didn't know what his weakness was. I knew what I had to do perfectly well: Soften him, make him listen, make him understand-get to know him well enough so that he would let me in, to let me taste some of the sorrow he felt. Get past the cold exterior and be rewarded for it. Hope to find someone different under the ice… I did not think simple, idle talk would achieve that.
Picking up my pen, it hovered above the parchment for the briefest of seconds, before it hit the paper, the black ink flowing out clearly and boldly.
Find his weakness. Break down his walls-and at the very least, yearn to understand him.
As I stood back to read what I had so gracefully penned, I chuckled at what I had written-it sounded so malicious to my ears, like it had come from the Dark Lord himself. But then again, a part of the dark lord was within me. I could feel him constantly, I have told you, and I know he gives me abilities that most are not graced with. My mind is faster, smarter, sharper, and he makes me bolder. Take his forceful character; mix it with the quiet, shy yet empathic Ginny Weasley and you have the perfect weapon.
Cunning enough to think of marvelous plans-quiet, small, gentle enough to blend in anywhere, to melt anyone's heart.
But not Draco Malfoy's.
Rolling the piece of parchment up, I slipped it into the pocket of my robes and walked over to my bed once more, looking out the window, awaiting for the sun to rise again. All the while I pondered idly of Draco, of when I would triumph and he would see the light, when all would be alright and the Dark Lord would be gone…and Draco-he would kiss me tenderly, and everything would be right. We would be hopelessly in love, and I would have good reason to be in love with him. And no longer will the world scoff at me.
Am I surprising you yet, my friend? Do I surprise you with how my inner thoughts are so different from what you see every day? Do I frighten you? I frighten myself.
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The sun crept up so suddenly, and the light filled my dorm. I looked around and saw the others sleeping peacefully, not a worry on their faces. I envied them. I wished to remember the times when I was like that-but I could not.
I felt restless and I wanted to get away. So, I crept out of bed, feeling dry and tired-though not sleepy, and I got dressed quickly.
Grabbing my bags, I tip toed out of the room, closing the door behind me, nodding in satisfaction as I heard the soft click.
As I had suspected, no one was up at this early hour, not even Hermione, and I was quite relieved. I did not want to explain…lie to Ron about why I was up. I smiled weakly at the thought of his worried face bombarding me with questions, and Hermione pressing a hand to my forehead, and then Harry with that frown of his, the quiet one. I loved them all to death, and it hurt to think about what everyone was going through…the war…
They knew I loved them, and they loved me back, yet it amazed me. They had still not noticed anything unusual about me. Were they really that ignorant? And oh, what a funny picture it would be if I had gone up to them, telling them that I was a corrupted, sick girl, and that Tom's spirit was still within me, now a part of me forever. No, they would probably laugh. It was a rather bitter thought.
The corridors were, as well, empty, and they felt oddly cold. I looked around just in case Filch was lurking about, then set off towards the library, my footsteps light. My books were clutched to my chest protectively, and as I passed a mirror that hung on the wall, I saw my pale, ghostly face; skin white as death, red hair limp, lips dry and flaking, and my eyes-my books fell to a clatter as I saw my eyes-those haunted, dark, murky brown eyes that I was positive weren't mine. Reality hit me hard. It was consuming me so much faster, now that Draco had added to the pressure. Now that I knew I was in danger.
I looked away quickly, feeling sick already, and I never wanted to see it again. I bent down and picked up my books very carefully before proceeding down the hall, a worried frown upon my face.
Finally, to my exhausted relief, the doors came into view, and I felt almost at peace, smelling all those musty old books, becoming surrounded. All I wanted to do now was to get lost in a happy book, cry a few tears, and get away from my life.
I selected a table at the edge of the library and sat down, a very small smile forming. Rubbing my hands together, I walked over to the Muggle literature section and browsed, my eyes shining with awe.
Fairytales. I picked a thick book out and clutched it tightly, feeling content..
Fairytales are for dreamers who can't face reality.
My expression sobered at the memory and I felt a shiver go through me, my hands running over the smooth cover of the book.
I sat back down, shaking the unruly thoughts out of my head, flipping the book to the first page, my nose crinkling as the smell hit my nose. Wonderful, I thought. My eyes fell to the title, Briar Rose, and I smiled, tingling with excitement.
A long time ago there lived a king and a queen, who said every day, ' If only we had a child!' But for a long time they had none.
It happened once as the Queen was bathing that a frog crept out of the water onto the land and said to her, ' Your wish shall be fulfilled. Before a year has passed you shall bring a daughter into the world.'
The frog's words came true. The Queen had a little girl who was so beautiful that the King could not contain himself for joy, and he prepared a great feast. He invited his relatives, friends and acquaintances, and also the fairies, in order that they might be favorably and kindly disposed towards the child. There were thirteen of them in the kingdom, but as the king had only twelve golden plates for them to eat from, one of the fairies had to stay at home.
The feast was held with all splendor, and when it came to and end the fairies all presented the child with a magic gift. One gave her virtue, another beauty, a third riches, and so on, with everything in the world that she could wish for.
When the eleven of the fairies had said their say, the thirteenth suddenly appeared. She wanted revenge herself for not having been invited.
Without greeting anyone or even glancing at the company, she called out in a loud voice, ' The princess shall prick herself with a distaff in her fifteenth year and shall fall down dead.'
And without another word she turned and left the hall.
Everyone was terror-stricken,, but the twelfth fairy, whose wish was still unspoken, stepped forward. She could not cancel the curse but could only soften it, so she said, ' It shall not be death, but a deep sleep lasting a hundred years, into which your daughter shall fall.' *
"Entranced, aren't we?" A voice as sharp as a knife. I gasped and turned around to meet his gray eyes -the source of the voice that had cut through my peace--and my heart lurched. He looked down at me somewhat amusedly, malice deep within his eyes.
" Y-yes." I stuttered lamely, shutting the book close.
" Fairytales are for dreamers who can't face reality." He recited smoothly, taking me by surprise yet again. My mouth formed an 'o' at the coincidence. He must have noticed my surprised demeanor, for he shrugged casually.
" Everyone knows that." He said lightly, grabbing the book from the table and glancing at it. I looked down at the floor, feeling foolish again.
" Then I suppose I'm not everyone." With one simple sentence, his eyes flitted over to me, wide, stern, shining hungrily, almost. And while he looked at me, all I could notice was how handsome he was in my eyes, and how he made my heart tremble, though I knew how cruel he could be.
Can you hear my heart, Draco?
" No…" he mused softly. " I suppose we aren't everyone." I listened attentively, a frown crossing my face as I struggled to understand what he meant.
" I know everything, Virginia." He said, his face an inch away from mine. " I know everything that haunts you, everything you desire to be, everything you have potential to be." He paused, tilting my chin upward.
" And I want to help you."
The words were wrong.
I tore away from him, because everything was a lie, and I hated him. Hated him, yet helplessly intoxicated by him.
"No!" I cried childishly. " Why would you want to help me?" I wanted to let him know that I was untouchable, that I was strong, that he couldn't manipulate me. But with every word I uttered, I could feel the tears slowly rising, a sure sign that he affected me. He stared at me blankly in all his glory, celebrating, mocking me because he was so much better than I.
" Because I can." That was his simple answer. And it left so many questions.
Don't say that.
" You just want to use me." I accused, my eyes narrowed until they were mere slits. He did not answer me, but kept his gaze on me as if he were calculating me-while my tears slowly fell, and I grew weaker in his trance. He stepped closer to me, an innocent frown on his face.
He was so close.
"Why do you resist fate?" he asked simplistically, as if that were something so very odd. My eyes widened as they met his, and I saw that he truly did not understand. I almost smiled. Pain, misery, cruelty he understood perfectly well-yet not this. I bit my lip, wondering how to answer him. Finally, I shrugged.
" Because I can." I replied smoothly, smiling at the irony. But any thoughts that would've flown in my head were stopped, because at that moment, he leaned in-and I was engulfed in his mysterious eyes, engulfed in his wondrous and enticing scent, and soon found myself lost in a sea of kisses.
It was a kiss full of hunger, full of yearning to know why, and he asked me again and again with his lips-while I stood still watching him achieve his goal.
Tell me everything.
I let everything fall, and wrapping my small arms around him, I gave in, kissing him back, asking back why he was the way he was-begging him to answer my questions. And though I knew it would be improbable, a part of me held on because I had drifted off into one of my dreams, and in my arms I held the boy I loved.
And he loved me.
All the while my heart jumped with excitement, for that faint hope had been ignited, that indeed he had feelings, and that he could have feelings for me, just another Weasley. How else could he kiss me so passionately?
Stupid fool…
But as with every good thing, it came to an end abruptly. He pulled back suddenly, and the moment shattered. His eyes were narrowed dangerously, and he was frowning, thin lips pursed. His eyes accused me, and they made me sweat, made me stumble, made me fall.
Tell me, Virginia.
A look of immense hurt and confusion crossed my face, and my fists clenched in pain, realizing that he meant none of it, realizing that it was just another way to use me. Just another dream shattered.
Mustering all the strength and dignity I had within me-for I was humiliated beyond comprehension-I shook my head and slowly walked away, books clutched under my chin.
" Because I can, Draco Malfoy."
Reality had hit me again, and I felt my heart ache yet grow stronger in a sense. It was a game-and unless he gave me answers, I wouldn't give him any either.
*--This excerpt comes from Grimms' Fairy Tales, by the brothers Grimm, translated by Mrs. E.V. Lucas, Lucy Crane, and Marian Edwardes.