Roses In December
Part III
------
The walk back to Draco's dormitory lasted a century; perhaps even an era or two. Ginny tiptoed behind him, tired and feeling suddenly incredibly old.
The corridors seemed to purposely stretch into infinity, tauntingly so, but at long last the slightly moldy smell of the stone dungeons came in sight. Draco uttered the password and they stepped inside.
"Thanks," he muttered gruffly, barely audibly. Ginny, instead of finding herself surprised and softening at his words of gratitude, on the contrary--she felt angry.
"They'll catch you soon enough, anyway," she said quietly. It gave her some satisfaction to see his pale face reddening. "They'll find whoever it was you killed. So thanks, but no thanks needed. They'll find him, and they'll find you."
"They won't." Ginny ignored him. He was reassuring himself, as he threw his hands up in the air. His hands shook. "They won't ever fucking know. Don't tell me things you don't know anything about."
"And you--don't tell me what to do!" Ginny retorted hotly.
There was a steely silence that moved to fill the space between them. Then, Draco turned sharply on his heels and walked briskly to his room.
The hall echoed painfully with his furious footsteps.
--
She had been out here for three hours, twenty-four minutes and 5, 6, 7, 8 seconds, in constant fear that a Slytherin might enter and inquire what the hell she was doing here. Well, she wondered the same; what was she doing here?
No use, a sensible voice said coaxingly. No use in going over that again. What has happened has happened.
But she couldn't go back to Draco's room and sleep, like she so desperately wanted to. She was raised to have more dignity than that.
That's not dignity, the voice returned again, sleepily. That's being foolhardy. Being unnecessary stubborn. Now, doesn't a nice, soft bed sound nice?
Reason always won with her.
Tiptoeing back to the third door to the right, Draco's, she pressed her ear against the wooden door.
Nothing.
How was it that a usually rambunctious (well, that was the nice way of putting it) boy remained so silent? Ginny bit her lip. What if he was sleeping already? Didn't he even snore? She'd be stuck out here all night, and then surely someone would catch her.
Turning around and pressing her back against the door, she sighed. Perhaps she would let herself be caught. That way, maybe she could get away from Malfoy and whatever he had planned for her.
Ginny gasped mid-breath and lost her balance as the doors suddenly sprang open. Falling ungracefully to the cold floor inside the dormitory, she glared to cover up her embarrassment.
"Get in," Draco said emotionlessly, before closing the door and climbing back into his own bed.
"And where am I supposed to sleep?" she asked haughtily. She wouldn't let herself seem frightened by him-especially since he would have a field day with that kind of knowledge. "It's not break yet, so no one has gone home, have they?"
Malfoy sat up against the headboard of his bed and gave a wicked smirk.
"Well, I guess that leaves you with no choice, then," he said softly, looking at his bed sheets and continuing to rearrange them. Ginny dreaded the words that he would surely say next; that she would be fated to sleep next to him.
"You can sleep on the floor next to my bed," he said instead. Ginny heard the words, and blinked steadily, taking a moment to realize what he meant. Initially, relief spread throughout her entire body. And then, she felt a burst of outrage.
"On the floor? It's freezing!" she protested. Draco narrowed his eyes.
"Then what? You think I would give up my own bed for you? I'm not that hospitable, Weasley."
"That would be the gentlemanly thing to do."
Draco merely laughed as if the statement were a hearty joke.
"What if someone sees me?" Ginny added. Draco rolled his eyes.
"My bed is on the edge, right next to the wall, Weasley. No one is going to crawl over here in the middle of the night to check if there's someone lying next to my bed," he glanced at her. "And, you know how to be discreet, don't you?"
Ginny stood still, focusing all her hatred on the horrible little monster in front of her. Oh, how much easier things would be if he would just go away, or better yet, drop down dead.
Don't think like that. If you do, that makes you no better than him.
Ginny composed herself, and then gave him the smallest of nods, enough to signify that she had given up on the matter. It looked like there was no other choice.
"Good," Draco said. He threw over a blanket and a pillow. "Then go to bed before the others get here."
Ginny walked over to the small space between the wall and Draco's bed and saw what he meant. There was barely enough room for one body-she would probably have to sleep on her side the whole night. No one in the world would suspect anyone was sleeping there. Just like no one in the world would suspect Draco had murdered someone.
In fact, it seemed about right to say that when it came to secrets, Draco Malfoy had plenty.
As Ginny tried to rest her body upon the cold, textured tile, she wondered how she would survive for the next few days until break began. The icy stonewall nearly pressed against her cheek, and the thin blanket did nothing to keep the cold from melting into every part of her skin.
--
By early next day, Ginny was beginning to learn that no one got up as early as Draco Malfoy. Twice, she had gotten up in the middle of the night. The first time, it must have been around two o'clock in the morning-looking up she saw that Draco was still laying rigidly on his bed. But the second time, around five o'clock in the morning, the bed was empty, and already immaculate, as if no one had ever slept in it at all. Too tired to further examine the situation, Ginny's eyelids quickly drooped close and she fell asleep again.
In the late morning, half an hour before breakfast, Ginny finally gave a yawn and lazily opened her eyes. The dormitory was completely empty. Getting up, she peered at the note left on Draco's bed.
Meet me by the corridor leading to the library during breakfast.
Ginny frowned as her stomach growled. Biting her lip, and wondering as she dressed if perhaps her skirt had grown looser, she knew that if this constant dread did not relent, she would not make it to Christmas.
--
"I hate you," Ginny spat as she listened to what he was telling her. Draco looked at her blandly, clearly impatient to go on and not at all listening to her.
"How that knowledge scars me," he said dryly. "Just do as I say."
"Of course," Ginny replied bitterly. "What am I now, your bloody servant?"
"I guess you could say that. You obey because you have to, don't you? That's what servants are."
Ginny took a step back.
"Well, I refuse."
"I thought we discussed this already, Ginny," he said slowly and with patience. "I really don't want to hurt you. Don't make me."
Ginny threw her head back and laughed.
"You don't want to hurt me?" she asked incredulously. "It's in your nature to want to make everyone's lives miserable," Ginny snapped. "Don't even try lying to me."
Draco hung his head for a moment, before looking up at her with a calm expression that did not match his angry eyes.
"What do you know about me, Weasley? How do you go around acting like you've got me all figured out?" he yelled, obviously not caring whether or not anyone heard. "If you hadn't been snooping around, I would never have to do this-"
"I wasn't snooping around!" she yelled, her volume matching his. "I was in the wrong place at the wrong time!"
"No, you were curious," Draco shook his head. "You should have run when you heard voices."
"You're wrong," Ginny said. "You don't have to do any of this. You're doing it because you're a coward. You're too scared of what would happen to you if anyone found out, so you're doing whatever it takes to save your own neck. It doesn't matter how low you have to stoop, do you? In fact, I bet it never did, as long as you were alright."
Draco didn't answer, but Ginny doubted he was rendered speechless.
"You're right," he said finally. Ginny felt a small dose of surprise. "I am a coward."
He seemed to be contemplating something, the look on his face thoughtful. And then, he leaned forward slightly, as if to whisper in her ear a secret.
"But you'll do as I say anyway."
--
Classes. They had once been the priority, but now, she could not bring herself to properly listen, no matter what the subject. How could anyone concentrate, anyway, if they had such a colossal problem resting on their shoulders? How could anyone remember the right ingredients, in what order, if their mind was far, far away on a boy who's mere presence made a deep fury churn in the pit of her stomach?
"Another failing grade, Miss Weasley?" Snape advanced on her silently, there beside her before she even noticed. These days, it was always Ginny he picked on. Perhaps he noticed her lack of enthusiasm, after all.
"But perhaps a little detention would amend matters," he droned on. Ginny barely listened. Instead, she nearly felt happy. Detention would mean less time spent with Malfoy.
"Yes sir," Ginny said absentmindedly, not even bothering him a scathing glance.
Professor Snape gave the hazy eyed girl an odd look, but said no more.
--
"Now," he mouthed silently from across the Great Hall. Ginny's hands felt sweaty. She wished she hadn't been watching him. Why had she been watching him? Scolding herself for her stupidity, she looked down at her dinnerplate.
His gaze never left her, even as she tried desperately to avert her own gaze and casually act as if she had not noticed him.
Finally, seeing no choice, and no more time for stalling, Ginny stood up. Draco was looking disgustingly satisfied. Striding towards the long list of students going home for break, she searched for her own name.
Taking a quill from her bag, she clenched it tightly in her fist, nearly willing it to break. Examining the list and locating her name, her hands trembled above it, before the ink spilled over the words Ginny Weasley, successfully scratching herself off of the list of students going home for the holidays. There was something incredibly monumental about a simple, thick line across her name that made her feel suddenly homesick-as well as simply sick of everything else. Ginny wiped at her eyes before anyone could see and turned around to head back to her table. She froze when she saw a familiar figure draw near her. Ron.
"What are you doing, Gin?" he asked, mildly concerned. Ginny gulped, her mouth feeling inexplicably dry.
"Crossing my name off," she said firmly, even managing to plant a small smile on her face.
"What?" Ron asked, frowning. "Gin-I thought we were all going home this year?"
Ginny shrugged. She couldn't think of a reason fast enough.
"I don't now-I just-I just decided--"
"Because of me, Weasley," a sardonic voice invaded the conversation.
Ginny closed her eyes. Why did he have to interfere? Why did he always have to ruin everything?
"And what the bloody hell does that mean, Malfoy?" Ron asked heatedly, his voice rising significantly.
"The silly thing's completely besotted with me," he said smoothly, placing a hand gently on her shoulder. "But I'm glad at least one person in your family was born with taste." Ginny turned red, cursing him and wondering how he could lie so well, all at once.
"What?" Ron asked, his voice suddenly small and faint. He turned to Ginny, shaking his head slowly. "He doesn't know what he's talking about, does he, Gin? Shall I tell him to bugger off? Just give me the word."
Both eyes were fixed on Ginny. She shrunk away, feeling exposed. She looked from Ron's befuddled face, his freckles blending in against his crimson cheeks. She felt a pang of guilt-what had Ron done to deserve this, anyway?
She turned to the right, and Draco's cold gray eyes reminded her of the consequences if she gave the wrong answer.
The frozen moment passed, as she shrugged indifferently.
"I want to spend Christmas with Draco."
Ron let go.
"Have you lost your mind?" he bellowed, face red, so very, very red. "If this is your idea of humor; you're not very funny. I'd rather you stick to Fred and George's style, in fact." His voice was strained and void of any mirth himself.
But Ginny kept her stance, slanting her eyes slightly to glance at Draco. The corners of his lips were lifting, encouraging her, if it could be called that.
"It's my choice, Ron, " she said with force.
"I'm staying here."