Fading

Another fic, I know. But with all this summer school (ah the walking for fitness is so relaxing) I’m thinking that maybe I’ll have what it takes to keep up with 5 fics...maybe. Besides, most of them are close to closing anyway. Okay, only one, but that’s fine. My sister convinced me that I had to edit this and post it–I wrote it a few months ago, and never gave it a second glance. But she loved it...same deal with Girl Boy (which, surprisingly, had great feedback) in that if I get less than 10 reviews, I’ll bury it. Sorry, but I just don’t want to spend all this time writing a story that not many people are going to read. I don’t really have all that much time...although, if your reviews are extra-tasty, maybe I’ll make an exception *wink*.

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Fading

Chapter One: Realization

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It seems weird, really. When I was alive...in my reign, I was the most godlike wizard you could come by. I probably had more influence than the all-mighty Merlin. What a joke. A bloody joke.

I woke up this morning...well, not really. I couldn’t have woken up, because that requires one to be, well, alive. But I did, in a sense, wake up.

I guess I should start from the beginning.

If this story is going to be told rightly, I should start with Hogwarts. That’s not necessary, however...that’s the part everyone knows. I hated Harry Potter, I was the bastard, yeah it’s all said and done. I loved my life.

The summer after fifth year, my father escaped Azkaban. He yanked me out of bed, apparated us and immediately scalded the dark mark onto my arm. The blinding pain...I still have nightmares about it. Well, had.

I always wondered why those god forsaken ghosts trampled around in their translucent skins, choosing to live this way instead of going beyond.

Now I understand.

But I’m getting away from the beginning. After the dark mark, I was a certified death eater. My father took me out of Hogwarts–“Absolute shit,” he said–and I was trained in the dark arts, how to be the perfect servant. It was a few months later that I met Voldemort himself...I’ll never forget it. As a Malfoy, I wasn’t scared of anything. But when I heard his voice, if you would call it a voice...it sent an unspoken chill down my spine as I realized what the word “fear” truly meant.

So obviously, the second great war started. I was sent into battle, ready to kill all those filthy mudblood lovers and other shitheads who got in my way.

That’s when I saw Ginny Weasley on the battlefield.

She was scurrying around as only a Weasley could, waving her wand and performing healing spells, dodging curses and scurrying some more. Imagine, a Weasley worth something on the battlefield.

“Ron!” she screamed, her brown eyes staring at her brother. I whipped my head around, and the image I saw...another thing I’ll never forget. Weasley had a look of complete shock, falling backwards onto the damp ground. He never let go of his wand. My father had a look of satisfaction, throwing a sneer towards Harry Potter, who had watched this spectacle with a look of despair and hatred on his face.

But before I could do anything, a tingling feeling hit the bottom of my spine. Momentary pain...

...then blackness.

While I was alive, I never truly believed I was evil. Sure, I did some things that the great Harry Potter would never do. But that didn’t mean it was wrong...

But when you die, when you leave everything behind...everything becomes clear. That’s what happened. I woke up...I realized. Realized what I fucking did all my fucking life.

And I had it decided then and there. I was going to change it.

Now, you ask me, how could I change my life after I was dead? Well, a Malfoy never gives up. A simple bloody thing like death wouldn’t get in the way of what I wanted.

I contemplate these things while walking alongside a river, the fog clouding my vision. Death does to you what Azkaban would do to you. If you’re innocent...you’ll maintain your sanity. If you’re guilty...it’s all Hell for you.

I crouched down, holding my head in my hands. I was passing the dementors again; I expected to see them soaring past me at any given moment.

“Save me!” the boy screamed, seeing me.

“Go, go ahead,” my father sneered, pushing me towards him. “Save him.”

Screams echoed in my ears...Merlin I was sorry...

“You’ll never get what you want,” she said, spitting on me.

“You insolent bitch, you–”

“You’ll get yours in Hell, Malfoy! You bastard, you’ll get yours!”

I pushed her against the wall, silencing her...regret coursed through my veins...

“Mother?!” I screamed, running through the ruins of Malfoy Manor. “Mother!”

I found a body at my feet then, burnt beyond recognition. But I knew...

“Ready?” I looked up, the voices in my head fading away slowly. Blinking rapidly I got up, trying to see the person in front of me. The voice sounded so familiar...

“Who...”

“That’s of no concern,” the voice said again. “Are you ready?”

“For what,” I asked, giving the person a side glance. For some reason, everything around me was fuzzy...everything was falling out of perception...all I could conceive was the person in front of me was a woman, blonde hair flowing in the breeze...

“No one knows,” she said, and I wanted to punch her. Curse her. Do...something. “Are you ready?”

“Stop asking me that!” I yelled, rubbing my eyes angirly.

“Are you–”

“No! I don’t...I’m not...” I don’t want to die!

“Then what? You wish to walk alongside the bank forever...bear the pain and regret for all eternity? Or perhaps run away from it all, be a coward...go back to the living? What do you wish?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know what I bloody want! I just...” I want a second chance.

The woman gave me a side glance, her pale blue eyes scrutinizing me momentarily.

“You do understand there is no hope.” Sobs wanted to come out when she said that.

“There’s always hope,” I said softly, remembering my mother. She had said it to me the morning after I had gotten my dark mark...seeing it, her face had paled.

“I don’t want my son to die for a cause that is not worth dying for,” she had muttered.

“Who is she?” the woman asked, her blue eyes shining. “That woman.”

“My mother.”

“Did you love her?”

“Yes,” I breathed, my chest suddenly heaving.

“Then there may be hope.” I looked over then, the woman with her blue eyes and her blonde hair and that smile...

“Mother?”

“Draco,” she said, whispered. “What do you want most of all?”

For some reason, I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t say power...money...all the women I could ask for. Suddenly, the only thing I could hear was little Weaslette’s voice as she screamed for her brother, the only thing I could see was the look on Potter’s face when Weasley died...the shriek that was only Granger’s as she saw her fiancé fall ringing in my ears.

“Love,” I said, looking up at her. She smiled upon hearing my words and she stepped closer, cupping my face in her hands.

“Then may you find it.” My chest was painfully heaving then, breaths coming in short puffs. I couldn’t breathe...couldn’t understand... “I’m giving you what I couldn’t give you before, Draco.”

“Mother, you...” But she was fading away, everything was fading away, fading away into a blackened mist.

~-~-~-~-~-~

“M-Malfoy?!”

I groaned, my head a pounding mess.

“What the bloody...you died, you...oh bloody Merlin,”

“Weasley, shut the fuck up...”

“Oh Merlin, oh Merlin oh Merlin oh Merlin...”

“Didn’t I tell you to shut up?!”

“Ginny?” Ginny swiveled around, her brown eyes still wide in bewilderment. “What are you–”

“Harry, Harry look! Malfoy, it’s Malfoy, he–”

“Ginny, what–”

“He’s right there! Bloody there!” she screamed, pointing. “Can’t you...can’t you see him?”

Potter stared at her, his voice breaking as he said, “Gin, I know we’ve all suffered, but–”

“I’m telling you, Malfoy’s laying right there!”

“Malfoy. Is. Dead.” Potter stated, his hands grabbing Ginny’s shoulders and lightly shaking her. “He’s dead, he’s not coming back. That’s what death does, Gin.”

“I-I know! But he’s–”

“I’m right here, Potter,” I muttered. All this screaming was truly boiling my bloody nerves...

“He’s not there, okay? Are you...are you okay?”

“Harry, this has nothing to do with Ron! I’m telling you, Draco Malfoy is sitting right there!”

“Potter, are you deaf? Listen to that Weasley for once.” What was Potter doing?

“Ginny, Draco Malfoy is dead!”

“I know that, but he’s still right there!”

“For bloody sake Potter, do you need to repair your ears as well as your glasses?!” I got up and began to walk up to him angrily.

“Ginny! Listen to me! Draco Malfoy is not right there! He isn’t anywhere here, but in an endless tomb, with all the others who were left on the battle field!”

“My...what?” The dream I had came rushing back. The river...fog...

...Mother...

“He...you didn’t even give him a proper burial?”

“You expect him to be worthy of one after everything he’s done?”

“Potter–” I started, but Weaslette beat me to it.

“Everyone deserves a proper burial, at the very least. Are we going to go to his level, and not give the enemy a burial? I’m not saying flowers and a ceremony, Harry, but–”

“I know, Gin. And we did. Dumbledore did it.” But I couldn’t think. All I could comprehend was that my body, my beautiful body...was left on the battlefield. Nobody had bothered to save it, salvage it. They left it to enemy hands...and now, now I was on the top of dead bodies, in some endless pit.

Ginny glanced to me and her eyes caught mine, startled, I suppose, to see the expression on my face. Maybe she thought a Malfoy couldn’t look like anything other than a sneering arrogant bastard...and I’ll admit, that’s what I usually was.

“That’s...okay, Harry. I don’t...see him anymore,” she said, while staring right at me. What was that bloody Weasley playing at?

“Oh, okay. I was worried there for a second, Gin...maybe you should still see Madame Pomfrey? Just to make sure–”

“No, no I’m sure...” she said, her glance coming to rest on Potter’s face instead of mine.

“Allright. I have to go now, Gin, just had to come by and see you...”

“Okay Harry, I’ll see you later tonight.” Potter gave Weaslette a smile and leaned in. They kissed for a few moments and after they broke away, he kissed her cheek lightly and walked out of the infirmary.

“What was that about, Weasley?” I sneered.

“What was what about?”

“Nevermind.”

“Your tactics don’t get to me anymore, Malfoy, so give it up.”

“As in they used to get to you?”

“Of course not.” I almost smiled then, but the amusement died as I sat back down and nestled my head in my hands. “Am I a ghost?” I asked, not to anyone in particular...

“No.” I snapped my head up, staring at the Weaslette as she kneeled in front of me. “See?” she said as she poked me in the ribs. I burst out in laughter, but quickly tried to bury it and feign anger.

“What the bloody hell are you doing, Weasley?!”

“Look, I can touch you, so you aren’t a ghost, allright?” After a moment she added, “So...you’re ticklish, hm?”

“N-No...”

“Oh, really?”

“A Malfoy has no weaknesses.”

“Then you must not be a Malfoy,” she said as she grinned evilly, a malicious, teasing glint appearing in her eyes. It made her look almost...sexy.

“So I’m not a ghost. Then what am I?”

“I wonder if anyone else can see you...maybe you’re like a Thestral, in that only a certain group of people can see you...”

“Mmm.”

“Maybe I should ask Hermione about spirits and such. I mean...you are dead, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I suppose so. I saw–” I broke off though, not wanting to tell the Weaslette anything. She wouldn’t want to hear, anyways.

“You saw what?”

“Nothing.”

“Just tell me, Malfoy.”

“No.”

“What, you don’t trust me?”

“Why should I?” Our eyes were locked, her gentle brown eyes gazing into my blazing gray ones. She blinked, suddenly coming to herself as I said that.

“Y-you’re right. What was I thinking,” she said with a small smile, turning away from me. Suddenly, things between the Weaslette and me was as it was during Hogwarts days. Nothing. I almost missed what we shared for the few minutes we had it.

“I’m- ”

“So I’m going to talk to Hermione about this. You just...stay here. Or something. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Ginny walked out of the infirmary without even looking back, an edge to her walk that convinced me she wasn’t okay.

Thank Merlin she had interrupted me when she had. I had almost said the two words I knew I would come to regret. I’m sorry. A Malfoy is never sorry.

“You’re okay with this?” I said suddenly, just as she was out of the door. “I mean...why’re you doing this?” She must have some ulterior motive. Nobody was that...nice. Even goody-ass Potter wouldn’t help out a Malfoy, less of all me.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you hate me.” Merlin, wasn’t it obvious? Or was she just that stupid?

“I don’t hate you.” My eyebrows rose of their own accord. “I just don’t like you. That’s perfectly normal.”

“But you act like...like this happens everyday.” She shrugged at me, that teasing smile once again on her face.

“Weirder things have happened, Malfoy.”

And as she walked out, with that smile still tugging on her lips, I also smiled for the first time in a long, long while.

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reviewing’s good for the soul...

Thanks to dracosbabe1018, darcharlie, vanillascent, easilyconfused, meg, twilight sprite, La Hermione, Diablo of Darkness, DarkenedQuasar, Draco’s Gurl, and anonymous reviewers for your supporting comments! I’m starting to really love this story–I think it’s one of the only originally inspired fics I’ve written. Well, I guess that means that regardless of the number of reviews I’m keeping it...but that doesn’t mean that y’all should stop reviewing! Well I finally got chapter 2 up–yayness!

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Fading

Chapter Two: Recognition

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“Well, you’re not a ghost.”

“I thought we already had that established.” Weaslette sent a glare that way that told me she didn’t appreciate my witty humor. Bullocks.

“I’ve got all of Hermione’s books here on ghosts, the afterlife, all of that bloody mess. You can look through them.”

“I can...what?”

“You really didn’t expect me to look for you, did you?” Taking a look at my face she laughed. Had the nerve to laugh...at me! A Weasley laughing at a Malfoy!

“Well sorry, Weasley, but I’m rich enough to have other people do dirty work for me. Besides, I wouldn’t want to taint my fingers by touching filth like this.” Weasley turned rigid, and I could see her take a deep breath in. Ha, this was really too easy.

“That explains a lot, Malfoy,” she finally said. “Is that how you graduated? Have your servants do your homework for you? I was always amazed that a shithead like you could graduate third in your class.”

Claws, Weaslette. Claws.

Sending a smirk my way Weaslette turned and walked away, a significant sway of her hips catching my attention.

Maybe she wasn’t the repulsive, plain girl I once thought she was.

In any case, there wasn’t any way in the world I was going to stay indoors and read these Merlin forsaken books. I wasn’t Granger, for bloody sake.

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“Daddy!” a little boy screamed, giggling in bliss as his father tickled him and cradled him in his arms.

“I love you,” a girl whispered before hugging a red-faced, embarrassed looking bloke.

“Mum, I want that toy! Mum, do you see that? Mum!” a little girl squealed, smiling as she looked at a doll in a window.

“Yes, sweet, I see it,” her mother replied, smiling down at her little girl. “We’ll ask Daddy if we can buy it, how about that?”

“Okay!”

I walked further along the muggle road, frowning at the happy scenes all around me. No real families were like that. They didn’t just willingly give out hugs and kisses and random “I love you”s. Of course not. Functional families respected each other, sat down for dinner every day. No surplus acts of affection. Affection made people weak. Those delusional people were just...

...just mental...

“Oh, sweetie!” a mother cooed, hugging a bawling baby close to her bosom. “Don’t worry, Mummy’s got you...oh, did that evil buggy bite you?”

Really. This was just disgusting.

A puff of brown hair caught my attention. The whispy, uncontrollable nature of it just reminded me so much of Granger...I instinctively sneered...

“No, Mum, I really have to get going,” she said, and I was floored. Bloody hell, it was Granger!

“Well, all right, Sweet,” the woman standing in front of her said, petting Granger’s hair with her hand as she smiled at her daughter.

Futile attempt, woman.

“If anything happens to Daddy, you send me an owl, okay? I’ve told you, Mum, phones don’t work where I–”

“Yes, yes...I just attach the letter to its little feet then?”

“Yes.”

How hard is it to give a piece of parchment to a bird and have it do everything for you? I don’t know how muggles communicate, those sodding idiots.

“All right. Stay safe now, Hermione.” Granger tried to smile.

“I’ll...try, Mum.”

“Do tell Ron that I said hi, won’t you?” I saw Granger freeze, saw her hands clench her purse tightly.

“I...can’t.”

“Oh, did he go somewhere?”

I guess it’s proven, then. Muggles really are dim witted creatures.

“No, not really, Mum...”

“Then what is it?” Noticing the look on Granger’s face the woman asked, “What happened?”

Finally caught on, then?

“He...he didn’t...” Granger’s mother gasped, her hands coming to cover her mouth as her eyes widened.

“You’re not saying that Ron...”

“Yes,” Granger managed to choke out. “He’s not here, anymore.”

“Oh, honey,” Granger’s mother said, gathering her daughter to her as she stroked her hair. “Oh honey...”

“Don’t tell me it’ll be okay,” Granger whispered. “Please don’t lie to me.”

“Wouldn’t think of it, dear,” Granger’s mother muttered back.

“I don’t know what I’m going to be able to do...” Granger cried, hiding her tear stained face in her mother’s coat.

“You’ve still got Harry,” Granger’s mother said, trying to blink away tears. “Yes, yes. And Ginny. Ginny’s a dear. And Neville–”

“It’s not the same, Mum!” Granger exclaimed. “I loved him...you just don’t get that twice in life...”

“No, honey,” Granger’s mother said, sighing. “No, you don’t.”

And I had enough of this sob-fest.

Who would think that someone would miss Weasley that much. Such an ignorant, terribly financed prick. Really.

But I couldn’t deny that something inside of me reached out for Granger. Part of me wanted to cry with her. I don’t know what the bloody hell happened, yet I couldn’t help but asking...

...did anyone miss me like that?

As I trudged away back to Weaslette, I knew the answer.

I didn’t need to see it to know.

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In a rare occurrence, it is believed that a spirit can come back to the living for a short period of time to execute his final deeds. They will come back physically to only one person, who will be able to see, feel, and touch them. To everyone else, he will only be a whisp of air. He will not be able to touch them, talk to them, etc. What he is able to do is touch inanimate objects. He is not able to walk through solid objects, as ghosts are capable of doing. He is merely trapped inside the living until he does his final deeds, or learns his final lessons.

Learns his final lessons?

The designated person is not chosen by the spirit but by the powers of the after life. It is with this person that they believe he will be able to accomplish most with.

So I was to accomplish things with Weaslette. I snorted.

Not much information is available on this subject, as it is rare. It is believed, however, that this happens to only one person per millennium. It is to those the afterlife pities the most that is able to receive this second chance.

Pity?

What happens after the deeds are accomplished is unknown. Some say that the spirit merely goes to his designated spot in the afterlife. Others say that time is unfurled, and he is able to be given another chance at real life.

A-another chance?

All that is certain is that if the spirit does not use his time wisely, all will be lost and he will be sent to the darkest depths of Hell.

That doesn’t sound good.

Laying the book on the sheets of the cot I stood up, frowning as I began to pace.

So, I was some sort of ghost-person who only Weaslette was able to see, and I was put here to accomplish something, or learn something, and if I don’t, then I’ll be shunned to the darkest depths of Hell?

Thanks, Mum.

But wait...a smirk began to form on my face as I realized just what power I held over other mortals.

That’s right. Other mortals. I wasn’t mortal...

My eyes brightened at the thought.

I could touch inanimate objects...I could pay Potter back for that humiliating scene in front of the Shrieking Shack in our third year. Oh, yes.

Walking out of that blasted infirmary I searched for Potter, wondering if he was even in the same building.

Must be. I saw other members of the Order walking around, conversing with each other and carrying stacks of paper.

“Potter? No, don’t bother Harry right now...” The man sighed.

“Look, we all know how much it hurts...but he wasn’t the only casualty. He has to remember that–”

“I know, Amos. He knows. But show some sympathy. He just wants a few moments to himself.”

“Where is he?”

“In his room. Third floor, room 3B.”

“All right. I’ll just file this paperwork and talk to Arthur before going up.”

“There’s a mate, Amos.”

Third floor, room 3B...third floor, room 3B...third floor, room 3B...

Haha, Potter was really going to get it this time...

Third floor, room 3B...third floor, room 3B...third floor, room 3B...

As I finally got to the third floor I saw the room and checking the hallways, slipped in.

The door was unlocked. No barriers, nothing. Maybe it was because I wasn’t really real, but still. Unimpressive.

I nearly crackled with glee as I saw Potter sitting on the edge of his bed. He hadn’t looked around for anything, which made me think that his reflexes were dimming down. His bloody door just opened, for Merlin’s sake! This was the best auror the ministry could provide? Pitiful.

As I walked closer, however, I noticed that he was shaking. Was he laughing?

“Damnit!” Potter yelled before whipping off his glasses and throwing them fiercely at the wall in front of him, the glass shattering and falling to the floor in pieces.

Hm. Not the entertaining episode I had in mind.

Potter sat back down on the bed, holding his head in his hands as he began to tremble again. “Damnit,” I heard him mutter again as he ran his fingers through his hair.

That bloody bloke wasn’t crying, was he?

“Harry?” a timid voice came. Potter swung around, his eyes driving a hole right through me. Don’t tell me that book was full of shit...

“Ginny,” he replied, and I turned around to see Weaslette standing in the doorway. She entered the room, her eyes glancing from me to Potter. A ghost of a smirk flowed across her lips as she shut the door behind her, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear while she walked further into the pit of doom.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath. I couldn’t get out now. If they were going to shag their goody-ass brains out, I would be forced to watch. Augh.

“What’re you...doing?” she asked, her swollen eyes looking intently at Harry.

“You’ve been crying,” he stated, his eyes wide and unblinking.

“Are you okay?” Weaslette asked. I rolled my eyes. Here was the part where Potter would break down, be the sissy he truly is and roll around in misery. And if he’s smart, welcome a warm chest to lay his head on. But I couldn’t expect too much from Pothead.

“Fine,” he muttered, his eyes still on Weaslette. “You’ve been crying.”

Really? Wow, I didn’t notice. You’re brilliant, Potter. Let me get on my knees and kiss your feet. Maybe some of the dirt sticking to your shoes will filter in and I’ll become brilliant, too.

“I’m fine,” Weaslette said, sniffing. Her eyes glanced to me again and I knew she was daring me to escape.

“It’ll be okay, Gin,” Potter finally said. I knew immediately those weren’t the right words to say.

“Shut the fuck up, Harry,” Weaslette growled. “Don’t you fucking lie to me, okay? I think I know more than you do just how much it means to have him gone.”

Claws, Weaslette. She’s been sharpening them.

“Don’t you think I’m some naive little girl waiting for Ron to walk right back into my life, Harry,” she added. “Don’t try to protect me.”

“Not trying to,” Potter finally said, and I could see him swallow.

“Then what are you trying to do! For Merlin’s sake–”

“I’m trying to convince myself, okay?!” he exclaimed, trembling again.

Again with the trembling.

Weaslette paled, swallowing herself as her eyes glanced to anywhere in the room besides Pothead.

“I’m sorry,” he finally said, breathing hard through his nose. “I didn’t–”

“It’s okay,” Weaslette said, smiling at Potter. “I miss him, too.”

“He was right there,” Potter muttered. “Malfoy was after me. Not him. He was just...there...”

“We don’t blame you, Harry,” Weaslette uttered softly.

“Don’t tell me that!” Potter nearly screamed. “You and I both know you wish it were me that died instead of Ron!”

Ouch.

“That’s not true,” Weaslette whispered, her eyes wide.

“Oh please,” Potter snarled, sitting back down on the bed. “I wish it were me instead of him.”

Don’t we all.

“Don’t.” Potter, Weaslette and I turned our heads to find Granger entering the room, a trying smile on her face. “You’re here for a reason. We’re all here for a reason.”

Hm. How is it that Granger is lecturing even when she’s crying?

“Ginny? Could you...I mean to say...”

“Sure, ‘Mione,” Weaslette answered, taking in a deep breath as she glanced at Potter. Potter ignored her glance, his eyes fixed solely on his two hands. Biting her lip she left.

So now, I had two choices. Stay in there and listen to Potter and Granger bawl. Or I could go and listen to Weaslette bawl.

I followed Weaslette. Better to have something nice to look at.

“What were you doing in there,” she said once I entered the infirmary. I knew I’d find her here. She was busy redoing the cot sheets, walking around hurriedly.

“Bored,” I answered simply, my hands settling into my pockets as I stepped into the middle of the room.

“I see,” she replied, sniffing slightly. She stopped her movements, her hands shaking as she laid them down on a pillow. “Did you see him?”

“What?” I answered, unnerved.

“Did you see Ron?” She turned her head slightly, her eyes fixed on my shoe.

“Of course. I was out there, I know you saw me–”

“No,” she whispered. “I mean...did you see him? A-after?” Her eyes glanced up to meet mine, and the trembling of her body, the frailness of her figure, the pleading in her eyes...my breath caught in my throat as I looked at her. After a moment she shook her head, her eyes closed as she rigidly stood up. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what I’m saying. Nonsense is all...”

“Weasley?” I asked, a frown on my face. I don’t know what came over me...but I suddenly felt as if I should protect her, comfort her. I knew she was a Weasley...but I felt a certain bond to her as she was on the brink of insanity, that thin line between independence and desperately needing support.

“Y-yes?” she stuttered, her eyes darting to the plants on the windowsill. She squared her jaw and marched towards them, determined, I suppose, to heal their slightly drooping figure. As she tried to pass me I grabbed her arms, my eyes boring into hers.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Weaslette’s nature reminded me so much of when my Mum died...as strong as I was, Mother was everything I had ever cared about. With her gone, I felt empty...motionless...everything I did was routine. I once wanted to be my father, do everything he did, to make her proud of me. I thought that it was the only way to make her finally love me...because back then, I thought that she did love him. Now...now I knew better. I’m certainly not a sentimental person. But here was someone who had grown into a strong, independent woman...someone that I respected, regardless of all my resentment. And seeing her like this unnerved me to no extent...bit away at me until I lost all my resolve to taunt her, to break her. Because suddenly, I didn’t want that. I wanted her to be as she usually was...her smirking, bitchy self.

“I am too,” she said back, her bottom lip trembling. She tore her eyes away from me, a deep, racking breath flowing through her body as she tried once again to control her tears. “But I told myself, you know, that I wouldn’t cry...I...I can’t, you don’t understand, I just...”

“I know,” I said, suddenly remembering the night I found my Mum’s body. Hearing that my father had led the Order to the Manor...and then escaping, forcing my mother to drink a polyjuice so that he could...an accident, a fire burning my home to ashes...running through the ruined walls, a maze that I couldn’t get out of...finding her body at my feet, burnt beyond recognition, but such a feeling of loss pulsing through me that I couldn’t mistake her for anyone else...

And for a strong moment, we understood each other, Weaslette and I.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. I didn’t know who it was directed towards...herself? Me? Weasley? All I knew was that suddenly she was pressed up against me, her face in the crook of my shoulder as she cried, her hands fisting my robe as she clung desperately. I held her in my arms, tears finally escaping my own eyes. I watched them as they rolled down my porcelain cheeks and fell into crimson hair. Tears I had held, kept on bay. I had never cried. My father had brought me up thinking that crying wasn’t acceptable...so I never did. This was every fear, every sadness I had felt since I was seven years old finally escaping out of my body. I felt that burden lift off of my conscious...and I couldn’t help but smile.

~-~-~-~-~-~

reviewing’s good for the soul...

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.

~-~-~-~-~-~

Fading

Chapter Three: The Road I’m On

~-~-~-~-~-~

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.”

~-~-~-~-~-~

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.

~-~-~-~-~-~

“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.

~-~-~-~-~-~

reviewing’s good for the soul...