A/N: "The Road I'm On" is by 3 Doors Down. The song doesn't really have any relevance to the chapter but I thought the song title fit perfectly.
I also just saw a preview for that one movie with Mark Ruffalo (aah I love him) and Reese Witherspoon (like her too) called Just Like Heaven, I think that's what it's called. It has a similar premise and is based on the book "If Only It Were True," which I've never read yet many of my reviewers ask if I have, and if this story is based on that book. Or, I guess now, that movie. I take it as a complete coincidence because I've never read the book and I've just saw the preview, and I started this story more than a year ago. Just wanted to make that clear.
On that note, I'm terribly sorry I haven't been focusing on this story. Like my other D/G, To Bring You Back, I started it not knowing how it was going to end. I didn't want to ruin it, so instead of writing meaningless chapters I took a step back (maybe for a little too long) and pondered the ending. Now I know exactly where I'm taking this chapter and be prepared for continuous updates.
Thanks to CzarJane, LiLAzNGrL8790, kirspes513, sevenofseven, this disaster, DarkenedQuasar, One of Those Girls, dejena, Jenna Kathleen, KourtTears, Estaria, Easily Confused, White Tiger, and the anonymous reviewers for your support. Without further delay, here's the next chapter.
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Fading
Chapter Three: The Road I'm On
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Weaslette and I completely ignored that night in the infirmary. I ignored the fact that part of my heart opened up to her...that somehow, I didn't hate her. That maybe...
No. Like I said, I was ignoring it.
And Weaslette...I assumed she was ignoring that she didn't exactly hate a Malfoy, either.
The weird thing is, I didn't need sleep. I realized it that first night when Weaslette asked me where I wanted to lay down. I wandered the streets that night, simply enjoying the moonlight washing over my face and the calm emptiness that surrounded me. I was never a social person...I had connections, a few friends...but in the end, I would feel most comfortable sitting by myself in some tranquil place, closing my eyes and resting myself with my familiar thoughts. When people disturbed that tranquility...it felt as if something precious was stolen from me.
Although sometimes I did feel lonely. Especially when I looked at the golden trio...but I would never, ever admit that. The way they knew each other so well...the way they had their own routine with each other. The way their routine would be ruined if one was missing. In my own sick, weird, demented way, I wanted to have a familiar routine that could be ruined with the lack of someone in my life.
So far, all I had was the lack of someone in my life.
I contemplated what exactly I was doing here. With Weaslette. I was supposed to accomplish something, wasn't I? But what?! I mean, I couldn't exactly end world hunger. Defeat Voldemort. Bring glory to the light side. That was everything Potter was destined for.
Or he could die.
Don't be stupid-a Malfoy would know about some stupid prophesy. We know everything.
But I think now a little part of me hoped he wouldn't. Die, I mean. Which really surprised me. When hadn't I wanted Pothead to die?
But Weaslette and I were calmer towards each other. Nicer, even. Maybe. We still threw back insults like Crabbe and Goyle threw punches, but...they were different, somehow. More...taunts and mockery than insults. Some wouldn't find that much of an accomplishment.
But I knew better.
So of course I would find myself standing next to Weaslette's bed, watching her sleep.
What can I say, I was extremely bored. And when a Malfoy gets bored, he takes it upon himself to alleviate this boredom. And my favorite way of doing so is taking pleasure out of watching others squirm. And thankfully, I had a perfect target.
But as I stood there, all thoughts of dying her hair, transfiguring her nose or dilating her eyeballs were erased from my mind. Instead, all I could think about was the way the moonlight washed over her...how it made her skin almost glow...how peaceful she looked, her dark eyelashes resting upon her cheeks, her mouth slightly parted, deep breaths echoing from her resting body.
"Malfoy?" she whispered, her eyes opening sleepily. "What are you doing here?"
Damnit, I was caught.
"Bored, Weasley," I drawled, putting my hands in my robe pockets elegantly. "Needed something to do."
"So you just stand there, staring at me?"
"And plotting ways of getting rid of your disgusting mane you call hair. But there were just so many brilliant ideas, I couldn't pick."
"I'm sure," she muttered, closing her eyes to roll on her side. "Just go to sleep," she yawned.
"My my, Weasley, even I thought you were capable of listening. Did I not tell you I didn't need it?"
"Well go squat somewhere and play with your penis, then. Probably the only way you can do anything useful."
"What, desperate for a show?"
Her eyes slid open and I smirked at her, raising an eyebrow. She giggled, smiling at me before she whispered, "Good night, Malfoy."
"Night."
~-~-~-~-~-~
"So what do you remember?"
"There was this river and it was like just being near it made me remember things."
"Things?"
"Just...memories I had erased from my mind. I didn't remember erasing them, but then when I remembered them I did...it's...difficult. To explain, I mean."
"Did you see anyone?"
"I...yeah...I did..."
"Who?"
"My mother."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Did she...did you two talk?"
"Yeah, we did. I think...I think she's the reason as to why I'm here. She asked me if there was something I wanted from life and then the next thing I remember is waking up, here."
"What'd you say?"
"When I woke up? You should remember that, I didn't know Weasleys lacked short term memory. It explains so-"
"No, I mean, what was your answer to her question?"
"What question?"
"If there was something you wanted from life."
"Oh. I...don't remember."
"Or you're just refusing to tell me."
"Annoying bint."
"Arrogant bastard."
"Just...forget it. It's not important."
"It probably is. I mean, maybe you were sent back to get what you really wanted."
"Why me, though? I mean...it's not like I..."
"Malfoy, you're not the horrible person everyone assumes you are. I mean, you're a bastard and an ass-hole and the most egotistical prick I've ever met, but...you're not a murderer."
"I am. A murderer."
"Not by choice. And you...you probably didn't enjoy it, like everyone assumes."
"What makes you think that?"
"You have compassion. Compassionate people just don't kill other people."
"What makes you think I'm compassionate?"
"You cried that night when you held me."
"Did not."
"Yeah, you did. I felt your tears, you baby. And that's how I know you're not a horrible person."
"You assume too much."
"And I know you're thankful for that."
"This is why I can't stand you."
"And yet you adore my company."
"Why do you always do that? Assume the best of people...it could screw you over, if you were wrong."
"I haven't been wrong yet. And usually...just by assuming the best of people, they reveal their best sides. The confidence given to them by someone who doesn't believe in their assiness takes their assiness away."
"So you're saying by telling me I'm not a murderer, I won't kill people?"
"No. You've already stopped. By telling you you're not like your father, you won't try to be him anymore."
"I know I'm not my father."
"You do now."
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We sat across from each other, eyes glaring and teeth baring. I was resting my chin on my knuckles and she was twirling a piece of hair around her finger but the atmosphere was tense...thick with anticipation...
"Knight to E5."
'Stupid move."
"Shut up."
Weaslette stuck her tongue out at me and I couldn't help but smile in amusement.
"Bishop to E5."
"Damnit!"
"I told you that was a stupid move."
"Shut it," I warned, my eyes glancing across the board.
Merlin, I sucked at this game.
"Merlin, you suck at this game."
I looked up to see her grinning at me, eyes dancing with mischief.
"And I suppose you know everything there is to know about chess?"
"I learned from the master."
Somehow, I knew she was talking about Weasley...and I laid off.
I didn't understand why.
"Well, I'm not that bad at it. You must be cheating."
"It is my specialty."
"Cheating?"
"Doing whatever it takes."
"Gin?"
Ginny looked beyond my shoulder to see Pothead standing at the doorway, his hand still on the doorknob as he gazed uncertainly at her.
"Yeah?"
"What're you doing?"
"Playing chess," she said, returning her gaze back to the board.
"With who?"
"Myself."
"Is that who you were talking to?"
"I often find myself to be my preferable company."
Pothead smiled and I could tell he was about to take my spot. I scrambled out of the way-no way in hell was he going to sit on my lap-and he sat down opposite Ginny, glancing at the chessboard. She traced my movements with her eyes and I could see her smirking.
"So how are you holding up?" Potter asked, moving his Queen.
"I'm allright. You? And Hermione? You guys okay?"
"Yeah," he whispered, waiting for Weaslette to move. She gave me a look that clearly said she wanted me gone and I surprisingly found myself going to the door. When had I taken orders from a Weasley? The moment I stepped out of the room she waved her hand and the door closed-she knew wandless magic?-before I heard the door click in place. I placed my ear to the wood and was surprised to find that I could hear them talking...she wasn't going to cast a spell preventing that? Did she want me to listen in? Or did it just leave her mind?
"I'm sorry for how I acted, Gin..."
"We were all hurting, Harry. There's nothing to be sorry about."
"I guess..."
"Are you going?" she asked, and I heard her move a chess piece.
"Going where?"
"You know what I mean. Four days, Hogwarts."
"Operation Ravel?" Pothead asked.
"Operation Kick-His-Fucking-Ass."
"Yeah," Potter said, and I could just imagine him smiling at Ginny as she uttered those words. "Of course I am."
"Is Hermione?"
"She wouldn't have it other way. I know you wouldn't, either, no matter what I tried to say to convince you otherwise."
"Damn straight, Potter."
He sighed.
Damnit, she was going back into battle? She could get killed...
"You could get killed."
"Obviously."
"Why can't you just stay here? For me?"
Why couldn't she?
She sighed. I could see her in my mind's eye, a crease between her eyebrows as she frowned and that determined, you-asshole glance in her eyes.
"You already know the answer to that."
"I don't want to lose you," Harry whispered. "Not after Ron...I don't think I could handle it if I lost you..."
"I know," she whispered.
Damnit...
"Just please, Gin...please..."
"You're okay with Hermione coming, aren't you."
"That...that's different. Completely different."
"No, it's not."
It's not?
"You love her...you want her at your side."
"W-what?" Pothead stuttered.
Wait.
I thought he and Weaslette were a couple. Weren't they being all smoochy a few days ago?
"And me...I'm just all you have left...you look at me and a part of you sees Ron...that's why you want me out of harm's way, that's why you're telling me to stay."
"Gin..."
"I'm okay with it, Harry. Even if you haven't realized it, you love Hermione...always have, really..."
"No, I-"
"I'm not saying you don't love me. You just...love her more. I have no doubt in my mind that if Hermione wasn't here, we'd be perfect for each other. But life doesn't always work in my favor, and I know I'd miss Hermione if she were gone. It's for the best, after all...I'm sure it is."
"But I do love you, Gin. I do. I don't know why you think I don't, what made you think-"
"Just lay off, Potter."
She sounded exhausted.
"I..."
"I'm coming, and that's final." I felt her hesitate before she stated, "And you know I love you...I...I always have...you just didn't see me...then you wanted to protect me...and now, now you just want...I need to be there, for you."
They finished their game. Nothing more was spoken between the two, just the clinking of wooden pieces on a wooden board. Sitting at a comfortable face off, eyes catching glances and smiles catching lips.
She won, after all.
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"Malfoy?"
"What."
"What's...wrong?"
I didn't know.
I had no fucking clue.
Something inside me was stirring, churning at my recent revelations. She was going back into battle. Pothead didn't love her. But she...she loved him...
It tore me up inside.
I didn't know why.
Why the hell would it bother me this much?
She was going back into battle. Big deal.
Except it was. At least, to me. She could die. She could get hurt.
Did I care?
Of course not.
But I did.
I shouldn't, can't, but I knew I did.
I...cared. About her. About her safe-being. I wanted her safe. Alive.
"Malfoy?"
I wanted her to care about me. Did she? Could she?
"What!"
"What's wrong?"
"You're going back!" I yelled, shaking my head. "You could get hurt, you could die, you could-"
"I'll be fine," she said evenly, although her eyes clearly displayed her confusion. "Is...is that what's bothering you?"
"Yes! And it kills me!" I said, sitting down. Suddenly I didn't feel like standing anymore.
She smiled.
"Aw, Malfoy," she cooed. "That's adorable."
What?
Her expression turned serious as she walked towards me, stopping a few feet away from my figure.
"I'll be fine, you know. I will. And I appreciate the fact that...well...you care. About me. It...it's strange, for sure, but it's a nice change."
I nodded. I would have accepted anything coming from her mouth. I couldn't believe what I'd just said outloud, it couldn't be true.
I couldn't care about her.
But I knew I did.
"Malfoy?"
"Yeah?" I raised my head to look up at her and she gazed down at her, something undecipherable in her eyes.
"Thank you."
"For what?"
"I don't know. For everything. You...I don't know. But thanks."
"Don't mention it."
She gave me another small smile before sitting down next to me. We were in the pantry closet, sitting on a large box of processed meat. It was where she found me, leaning against the cold columns of magically chilled milk.
"What was your answer to your mother's question?" she finally asked, breaking the familiar silence.
I hesitated, but whispered, "Love." I licked my lips and bowed my head in shame.
Her eyebrows raised and she looked at me, her eyes trying to find mine. I looked away. I couldn't bear to look at her, see her surprised like that.
"Draco."
I looked at her, taken unawares. She used my name.
Her eyes searched mine for a few seconds, glancing back and forth, but she finally smiled. Her gaze seemed to soften as she continued to look at me. I felt sweat prickling the nape of my neck, swallowing nervously as she opened her mouth slightly.
"Oh, Draco," she whispered.
And I wanted to kiss her.
Instead, she leaned in.
I closed my eyes in anticipation, my breath hitching...
But I felt her lips find my cheek instead.
Opening my eyes I saw her smiling at me again, obviously pleased that I had expected her to kiss me, her fingers dancing over the spot she had previously caressed.
"You're different," she finally whispered. "You're...you're softer." Her hands trailed around my face, around the sharp angles of my cheeks and chin. I was shaped like Lucius, after all. Sharp corners, cold radiance. But I knew she was reveling in the softness of my skin, the lushness of my gaze.
"I'm sorry," she said, frowning slightly. "I never knew...never thought...and I'm sorry..."
"It's okay," I replied. "No one really does."
I didn't need anyone.
"I want to," she stated and she withdrew her hand back into her lap. I missed her touch instantly.
And I knew she was waiting for my response. She wanted me to accept that she wanted to understand me...she wanted me to desire it too, her in my little world. Did I really want to share myself with her? A piece of my soul...did I want to let someone in, for the first time?"
"I know."
She smiled, stood up and lent me her hand. I let her help me up, my feet remaining on the cold, stone floor, my hand in her warm embrace.
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