Seven Days Later

A/N: This is based on a conversation that a friend had with me. She’s been smitten with a friend of mine, and I can’t convince her to talk to the guy...*sigh* I know I really should be updating my other stories–for all it’s worth, half of the new chapter of Girl Boy is written, but it’s still unsatisfactory to me...and I think my steam on To Bring You Back is fading fast, so I’ll just have to lug the thing home! Hope you enjoy.

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Seven Days Later

Chapter One: Changes

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Someone once told me that it only took seven days for a person to fall in love.

I told her that she was out of her mind.

Seven days? Please. Love isn’t something that could happen in seven days. I mean really...as Hermione says, it’s something that evolves, that builds up until one day it hits you that you’re in love.

Granted, I’ve never really been in love...

Of course, people will tell me that I was in love with Harry Potter my first few years of Hogwarts. I have to disagree. I wasn’t in love with Harry Potter, for one thing. I was in love with the-boy-who-lived, who happens to be a very different person. And for another thing, I wouldn’t really call it love...it’s more of obsession, if you think about it.

Bloody Harry Potter.

“Of course I’ll be your partner, Gin.”

Damn Harry Potter.

Not that I can blame him. He’s been infatuated with Hermione for the longest time, so when she came up and asked him to be her partner he immediately jumped on the wagon.

Psh. The moment he saw her he forgot all about me.

Insensitive jerk.

So here I was, leaning against the wall, my head laying uncomfortably on the cold stone.

Professor Dumbledore, in all his wisdom, had decided that for all the 6^th and 7^th year students he would have a mandatory class...I think it was a combination of classes that muggles usually had. Well, it was an absolute waste of my time...

Miss Clearwater (Penelope became a teacher’s assistant after she graduated) decided that the best way to teach the “drama” section would be for the students to learn it hands on. She proposed that everyone would pair up and recite a scene from a play.

A play.

She then told us that the couple who performed the best scene would win 100 house points and would be free from the final exam.

Well, all I had to do would be to find a suave, wonderful man who would win me the 100 points, excuse me from the exam, and make regretful Harry give me a second glance and realize what he was missing with wonderful me.

Neville was walking towards me and I gave him a small smile. Neville isn’t exactly the suave, wonderful man, but he was better than partnering with carbon dioxide...

...and he’s already with Susan Bones.

Oh, well, there was Colin over there in the corner. He’d be okay...

...except he’s holding hands with Pru. Hm.

“Miss Weasley.”

Ah, bloody damning Hell...

I turned around to find Malfoy standing behind me, a curling smirk on his face. I immediately knew that the following week would torture me to no end.

“The point of partnering up is to find a partner,” he drawled, his glance purposely eyeing the empty air next to me. “Or are you so half-witted that you can’t understand simple instructions.”

“Fuck off, Malfoy.”

He gave me another curling smirk.

“Or maybe it’s just that nobody wants to be your partner...”

Damn my blush...

I saw Harry give me an apologetic glance but I glared at him anyway. Bloody bloke.

“Aw,” Penelope cooed as she walked towards us, smiling at me. “How adorable. Cross-house interaction!”

Shut up, woman.

“Come now,” she called out, “A Weasley and a Malfoy! How...unpredictable!”

I shouldn’t have broken up with Dean.

I could hear Malfoy snicker behind me.

“So you two are working together, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said immediately. Malfoy gave me a glare, opening his mouth to interrupt but I continued. “We are. Isn’t that wonderful? We decided that we should put our horrible past behind us and continue into our new, bright future.” I gave Penelope a fake smile and batted my eyelashes, giving Malfoy a warning glance. He knew not to piss off a Weasley. Shall we count all the consequences? Let’s see...bloody nose, black eye, bruises (I think it’s 14 so far?), a broken broomstick, countless bat-bogey hexes, a father in Azkaban, a mother in Mungo’s...

“How wonderful,” she said, giving me a wink as she turned away. “Class!” she yelled, clapping her hands together. Everyone fell quiet, giving her their attention (or half of it, anyway). “Your couple assignment will be given to you tomorrow. I’m letting you guys get out early, so use it well!”

Everyone gave each other amused grins and picked up their things, exiting quickly. I saw Harry headed towards me, another apologetic expression on his face, but I quickly took Malfoy’s arm in mine and marched out of the classroom.

“Excuse me, Weasley,” Malfoy growled, pulling his arm out of my grasp before we made it to the next hallway. “What exactly are you trying to do, grab a quick snog? I know I’m desperately handsome, but I don’t associate myself with dirt like you, even if I–”

“Listen, you bastard,” I muttered, stepping up close to him. He was nearly a head taller than me, but it didn’t matter. I stared up into his eyes, glaring, until I could see the blue flecks in his gray eyes. “I am going to win this. You are going to help me because you are a fucking bastard, and I know that you will do anything you possibly can to tick off the three people you despise. What better way than working with me and winning those points?”

“You are aware that half the points would go to Slytherin?” he asked, an unreadable expression on his face. “Or are you just that stupid to forget that. Of course, what can I expect from a Weasley, no less...” he drawled, an amused grin on his face. I frowned; before I knew it, my arm winded back and a loud slap could be heard through the deserted hallway. Malfoy stared at me in astonishment, an extremely red handprint on his pale cheek.

“Bitch,” he growled, his gray eyes narrowing. “You’re going to pay for that.”

“Just try,” I shot back, continuing to glare into his eyes.

“I’m doing you a fucking favor by working with you,” he muttered. “I could just pull out now.”

“Except you won’t,” I replied, stepping backwards.

“Oh? Why wouldn’t I? I can do much better than you, Weasley.”

“See, unfortunately, you can’t.” I stepped back from him, giving him a fleeting smile before turning around and walking away. I didn’t hear any movement behind me, and to be honest, was quite relieved when I made it to the Gryffindor common room alive.

~-~-~-~-~-~

“Antigone.”

“Who?!” Malfoy said, a confused expression on his face. “What the bloody hell is that?”

“It’s one of the most famous Muggle plays,” Penelope said. “You can check it out in the library. Do make sure you do it well, I’ll know if it’s fake...”

I tried to conceal my smile.

“What,” Malfoy moaned, taking a look at my face. “What are you so bleeding happy about.”

“Antigone? We should be lucky. That’s an easy one.”

“Easy?” I smirked at the expression on Malfoy’s face. “Easy would be ‘Dwake: Fire Alight.’ Easier would be ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ I’ve never heard of ‘Antigone.’”

“Stupid, arrogant pig,” I muttered, shaking my head. “I’ll meet you in the library tonight, all right?”

“...what?” Malfoy turned to give me a bemused look. “You expect me to work with you?”

“In the left corner. That’s where all the muggle books are.”

“You cannot be serious...as if I would take time out of my precious schedule to sit next to a scrawny Weasley and read books even Granger wouldn’t give a second glance to.”

“I’ll see you at 6 then.” Once again I turned around and walked away. This was a lot easier than I thought it would be. Granted, Malfoy wasn’t as horrible as he usually was...there was a rumor that he was betraying his father, but I wasn’t believing it. I mean really...once a Malfoy, always a Malfoy. It’s like saying a ferret can magically transform into a weasel, or something.

By itself, I mean.

Day one of our week together. Hurray.

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“‘Ismene, sister, mine own dear sister, knowest thou what ill there is, of all bequeathed by Oedipus, that Zeus fulfils not for us twain while we live? Nothing painful is there, nothing fraught with ruin, no shame, no dishonour, that I have not seen in thy woes and mine.’”

“What?” Malfoy asked, one eyebrow raised. “What is this person talking about? Is she a nun?”

“What?”

“You know, a sacrificed lamb?”

“What?” I asked, bewildered. What the bloody hell was Malfoy talking about now? “A nun is a member of a female religious community...lives under vows and chastity and all that.”

“Chastity?”

“You know, no sex.”

“I know what it is. I’m amazed you do, though. It’s a wonder any Weasley’s vocabulary extends beyond vile language.”

“I’m sure chastity’s a piece of vile language to you, Malfoy. I mean really, as if you know anyone with morals.” I smirked at him, continuing to read the passage.

“‘And now what new edict is this of which thy tell, that our Captain hath just published to all Thebes? Knowest thou aught? Hast thou heard? Or is it hidden from thee that our friends are threatened with the doom of our foes?’” I stopped reading, smirking as I said, “Too difficult for you to understand, Malfoy?”

“This is worthless,” Malfoy drawled, leaning back in his chair. “This story has no plot.”

“It has an amazing plot,” I countered, narrowing my eyes at him. “It’s a tragedy...her two brothers killed, her Uncle banning anyone from burying one of them due to insult, I mean it’s just horrible...he doesn’t think that she should have a brain, but she’s convinced that her uncle’s politics are–”

“A woman in politics?” Malfoy snorted. I glared.

“She was a royal, Malfoy.”

“See, this is the thing with you Weasleys,” Malfoy drawled, leaning back in his chair and smirking at me. “You expect everyone else to know, or care, for that matter, about these stupid, meaningless things that you’re quite obsessed about it. With your father, it’s the protection of muggles...with your brother, it’s about his wealth...or lack of it, shall I say? And with you, it’s Pothead...”

“I am not obsessed with Harry,” I growled, glaring at Malfoy. “And I-”

“Then what was that singing valentine for, Weasley? I never did tell you, I think you have quite a captivating singing voice. I’m sure it’s what kept Potter a couple more days in the hospital.”

“Bastard,” I muttered. “What would you know about love, anyway? You’re a Malfoy.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned upright in his chair.

“It just means your incapable of doing anything other than being arrogant, jealous, and having sex...horrible sex, mind you.”

“Horrible sex? Weasley, I think you’ve got your facts wrong. Besides, I’m sure you’ve fantasized about me enough to figure that out for yourself.”

“That’s not what the girls in the bathroom say, Malfoy. Let’s just say that you’ve got to...oh, what did they say? Higher the notch on your, um, performance...”

Malfoy sent me a look that seemed torn between amusement and anger.

“I guess I’d just have to prove it to you, then,” Malfoy muttered, a wicked grin adorning his aristocratic features. My eyes widened as I saw him lean towards me, his tongue coming out to lick his lips.

Damnit, bloody Hell, to all that is holy...Malfoy was going to kiss me!!!

And the weird thing?

My heart began racing. Shallow breaths were coming out of my body and I couldn’t think straight–everything around me was fading in and out of proportion–the only thing I could see, feel, think about, was Malfoy leaning towards me, those suddenly alluring lips inching closer and closer and closer....I closed my eyes in anticipation, just waiting, absolutely begging for this moment to happen...

Suddenly I felt cold air. My eyes snapped open to see Malfoy walking briskly away from me, his shoulders tense. I frowned, glaring at his retreating figure. That bloody wanker just tricked me! What type of weird, sick, tormented humor was that?!

But then when he reached the library doors he gave me a quick glance over his shoulder. I memorized him at that moment...because I was sure it wouldn’t ever happen again.

Malfoy’s eyes weren’t cold, sharper than diamond or steely. They were almost...warm as they gazed at me from across the room. Although there was a rather confused look in them, it was as close to....to soft, I suppose, that I’d ever seen them. And replacing that annoying smirk was a small smile. His cheeks were slightly rosy and his posture wasn’t screaming arrogance or annoyance.

He was attractive.

And that’s when I knew something had gone horribly wrong.

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It was day two of our assignment, and we hadn’t gotten anything done. Harry booked the quidditch field for us right before dinner, and right after Malfoy had it booked for his team. What with Snape’s essay and Binn’s lecture, I had trouble finishing my homework that day.

The sky was clear, sunny, one of those perfect horizons adorning the mountains and field surrounding Hogwarts. It was a day when I wished I wasn’t a chaser, when I zoomed across the field so fast I could barely enjoy the scenary around me. Instead I got to focus on a red ball, on throwing it in a hoop, on catching it when someone dropped it.

“Ginny!” Harry yelled, racing up to me. “Take that bloody hat off.”

“My hat?” I asked, my hand coming up to rest on the bill. “Why?”

“It’s distracting. Just go put it in the stands and get it after practice, will you?” I opened my mouth to stubbornly argue when he sighed, muttering, “Please?”

I grunted, drifting towards the ground slowly and throwing my hat onto the bottom stair of the stands. Looking up I saw Harry give me a rare smile and race away to work with our new beaters, a frustrated expression on his face.

Normally, a smile like that would have made my heart lighter, transforming everything around me into happy bunnies and light fluffy clouds.

I guess things weren’t normal anymore.

Immediately after practice Ron and I raced towards dinner, absolutely starving for food. But it was after I finished eating my dessert that I noticed something was missing.

My hat.

The one my penpal from St. Louis bought me.

Hurriedly I put the last of my chocolate cake in my mouth and ran out of the Great Hall in the direction of the quidditch field.

As I reached the stands, however, something caught my eye. A lone figure was flying leisurely around the field, his robes billowing around him as his eyes were closed, looking as relaxed and at peace as I had ever seen him.

Malfoy looked amazing flying around on that broomstick of his. Granted, he would never be anything on Harry...Harry was just a natural. But there was something about Malfoy that screamed instinct as well. This was where he belonged, it seemed.

Which explained why Malfoy would be pinched and bothered by Harry. Malfoy probably thought, from the beginning, that quidditch would be his thing. And then Harry comes and makes the team his first year and ruins all hopes of glory for Malfoy.

Not that I cared.

I crept back to the castle, my hat in my hand. I took one last look back towards the stadium to find Malfoy looking directly at me, another unreadable expression on his face.

I smiled.

I didn’t like Malfoy. Seeing him on a broomstick and seeing him standing in front of a door wasn’t going to change that.

But I think something did.

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A/N: the whole nun-sacrificed lamb thing was for my sister. I know it totally disturbs the flow of the dialogue, but she absolutely begged me to put that in here, so I did. It’s a conversation from a few years ago where she asked me if a nun was a sacrificed lamb. I have no idea how she got that idea, but...well, there we have it. lol.

That’s part one. I think I have 3 parts in mind, maybe 2...maybe 4. I’m not sure. Thanks for reading!

A/N: That took forever! I’m so sorry it took so long for me to update ANYTHING; what’s it been, a month? Two?! I’ve lost count. I’m terribly sorry, I’ve just been so busy. Any free time I’ve had away from my horrible schoolwork has been dedicated to my violin, our Youth Orchestra concert’s coming up and I desperately needed some good practice. I think there’s only one or two more chapters of this story left (I’m only covering 7 days, after all) and I think my other D/G story “To Bring You Back” should be ending in two chapters. I’m almost done writing it. Then after that I got another H/Hr AU fic in the works, and I’ve also got a one-shot coming up. Wow. Yeah. I’m overwhelmed, too.

I was so surprised to see that this story got the attention that it did. If you guys enjoyed this, try out my other D/G fic, “Fading.” It’s my favorite story by far, but it hasn’t been getting the feedback that some of my other more popular stories have. Curious.

Alli1489: damn straight, Malfoy’s hot!

Lavalampronsgirl, sorry, but there is no kiss. It’s not even a love story. Everyone else has tied Ginny and Draco to Romeo and Juliet–at first I thought it was cool, now I’m sick of it...too much of a good thing really is bad.

Ditto, HPluver4life42 and swimchick1614!

Jenna Kathleen, it’s confusing isn’t it, since I never post Draco’s thoughts. But I’ll let you in on a little secret–he doesn’t HATE the little weasel.

Also muchos thanks to: khermione85626,werewolfgal4, Dawn Matthews, TheGreenFairy, HPFAN1, Eri, Boe, Dearg-Due, lukkiseven, monagy3, PurEvil, KourtTears, Wisegirl, Pottersgirl2003, Rainbow16, willow, Shayna4H/Hr, and you anonymous reviewers for your time!

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Seven Days Later

Chapter Two: Falling

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It was Friday. It was day three, and we only had three days to find something, memorize it, practice it, and make it absolutely perfect by day seven.

Ha.

Yeah, right.

Thank the lord we didn’t have to do Romeo and Juliet, like Harry and Hermione. Although I’m glad they enjoy it...Hermione managed to convince a blushing Harry that in order to get the scene right, they had to kiss. Gotta love Hermione. It was me that suggested she do that...

What can I say. I’m brilliant.

In any case, Malfoy and I were currently disagreeing about what scene to do.

He must’ve drunken too much pumpkin juice, or something, because I don’t know what possessed him to think that I would ever agree with him.

“Malfoy,” I began in a sweet voice. “You are a sodding, bloody idiot.”

“Well, we are not doing the scene you want.”

“And why not?”

“I don’t need to explain myself to you, Weasley,” he muttered, sighing dramatically.

“You know nothing about ‘Antigone,’ Malfoy! How do you know if you’ll like it?”

“Because you like it.”

“So?”

“So? All Weasleys have horrible taste! Nothing you like could I, a Malfoy with impeccable taste, agree.” I snorted.

“Like I said before. Sodding, bloody idiot.”

But really. Quite a handsome idiot.

Ew.

My Merlin.

I did not just think that.

“Agreeing to your scene, Malfoy, would be like saying you attract me.” I snorted, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.

Was I daring Malfoy?

Malfoy’s lips curled up, a glint sparkling in his eyes as he slowly walked towards me. Like a predator. I felt my heart race–surely it wasn’t Malfoy’s influence, was it? I was just...just..overheated, that was all. It was might stuffy in here. Libraries need more windows.

“Are you implying that you’re not attracted to me, Weasley?” Malfoy murmured, his lips centimeters from mine.

Damn.

I gulped.

“I-I’m not.”

Arg! I stuttered!

Malfoy took another step towards me; I could feel his body temperature through our close proximity.

“Weasley,” he coaxed into my ear. A shiver vibrated up my spine, settling somewhere in the middle of my back as I began to tremble slightly. “Tell me we’re doing my scene.”

“You must be bloody insane,” I whispered. I felt him smile.

Don’t tell me I was enjoying this.

“I’m warning you, Malfoy,” I growled, but I knew it was no use.

Where was a white flag when I needed it?

I wasn’t enjoying Malfoy’s body so close to mine. I wasn’t. Nor did I want to capture his lips and prove every girl’s gossip of his magnificent talent. No. I didn’t.

“Fine,” I muttered, pushing him away from me. He didn’t even stagger, merely took a step back.

I hated that smirk. That egotistical, I’m-so-much-better-than-you smirk.

“I’ll memorize this by Sunday,” I said, gathering all my things. “No need to meet tomorrow. Seeing you every day has been horrible for my eyesight.” I quickly turned around and walked away as promptly as I possibly could.

It was horrible. Absolutely horrible. I couldn’t be attracted to Draco Malfoy. I loathed him, after all. People who loathe each other just don’t like each other, much less find each other attractive. It just denies...everything.

None of my thoughts, however, could deny that I sorely missed the subtle feel of his body next to mine.

He was still a bastard.

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“Ginny, have you seen Harry?”

“Nope...why?”

“I think he’s hiding from me...” I snorted.

“Hermione, why would Harry hide from you?”

“I don’t know...”

I attempted to hide my smile.

The truth was, Harry was becoming a little..oh, what’s the word..intimidated by Hermione’s advances. She always complained about how boys were oblivious...well...I guess it’s true that all women are hypocritical.

“Don’t tell her I’m hiding in the astronomy tower,” Harry whispered to me from behind the statue of Boris. “Please, Ginny, I’ll do anything...”

So that’s why I had Harry’s firebolt in hand, ready to go to the quidditch stand for some intense practice.

Or leisurely flying.

I love saturdays.

“Well, allright,” Hermione said, looking quite distracted. “If you see him...”

“I’ll tell him Voldemort has captured you and taken you to his lair,” I said, giving her a smile. “Don’t worry so much, Hermione, it’s not like Harry’s hiding from you or anything. I’m sure he’s just busy.”

“Yes,” she murmured, a faraway glance in her eyes similar to Luna’s. “Okay.”

That woman has bitten off more than she can chew, I mark my words.

I flew off into the sky on Harry’s broomstick, the wind whipping my hair back away from my face. I loved the feel of flying, the complete relaxation it brought. All my worries, my doubts, my life...it was left on the ground, waiting for me as I escaped all my troubles for a brief moment of time.

I flew over the Forbidden Forest, the tall trees skimming my toes. Something glinted from beneath me and as I flew back around for a closer look, I finally realized what it was.

Malfoy.

The sunlight reflected from his head boy’s badge. He was lying in a clearing, his broomstick laying a few feet away from his still body. His eyes were closed...he wasn’t breathing..

Oh my bloody Merlin...

I raced down there as fast as Harry’s broomstick could take me, my heart pounding in my ears. Malfoy couldn’t be dead. He couldn’t. He was a bastard. Bastards just don’t die. What was life without Malfoy, anyway?

“Malfoy!” I shrieked, running to him once my feet touched the ground. “MALFOY!”

“What?!” he exclaimed, his eyes snapping open. “What the bloody fuck?”

“You’re alive!” I screamed, jumping on him.

“Yes, I’m alive!” he said, raising himself to sit. “My Merlin, Weasley, get off me.”

“Oh,” I squeaked, clambering away from him. What the bloody hell was I doing? I was totally hugging Malfoy! Draco Malfoy! Me! Hugging! Malfoy!

Malfoy was giving me a strange look, one of those perfect eyebrows raising.

“You’re not supposed to look directly at the sun, Weasley,” he finally said, slowly.

“Shut it, Malfoy,” I snapped, getting to my feet. Harry’s broom was a few feet away, laying in the grass. What the hell was I doing, who cared if Malfoy was hurt? Don’t ask, Virginia. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

“You weren’t worried about me, were you?” he asked, a mischievous glint forming in his eyes. “Aw, was widdle Ginny Weasley scared that icky Malfoy was dead?”

“No.” Don’t. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t ask if he’s okay. Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.

“Well I’m fine, little Weasley,” Malfoy yawned, laying back on the grass. “You can go fly away now.”

Yeah, duh, damnit, why the bleeding hell did I fly down here anyway? Who cared if Draco was dead!

Oh, Merlin...I called him Draco...

Draco...

“I have a name, you know.”

Oh, my. Who said that?

Draco’s eyes slid open, gazing at me in curiosity.

I couldn’t have said it...no. I should go. Go. Before I say something I’ll regret, before I spend more time...no...waste more time on Dra–Malfoy. Malfoy. Malfoy. His name is Malfoy.

“I have a name, you know.”

I did not just say that again. What was I, a bleeding broken record?

“Really,” Malfoy breathed, blinking. “Finally ashamed of your surname, Weasley?”

“I’m not Weasley,” I said, louder. “I’m not Ron, for Merlin’s sake.”

This was important...how?

Dra–Malfoy blinked again. His lips, I noticed, weren’t arranged in a curling smirk, or a frown, or in that adorable pout.

Ugh.

I did not say adorable.

I must be going bleeding insane! First, I care that he might be dead. Then, I call him Draco! And then I’m actually TALKING to him! As if his opinion MATTERED! WHAT THE BLEEDING HELL WAS I DOING?!

“You’re right,” Malfoy finally said. “You’re not.”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “I’m not.”

“All right, Virginia,” Malfoy said, raising from his laying position and gently wiping away grass from his pants.

Wow.

I never knew my name could sound so...so...

...so wonderful...

Ew! Oh Merlin, I had to get out of here. Someone must have poured a love potion in my drink, because this just wasn’t normal. No. I was beginning to act like Draco was Harry!

MERLIN! I JUST DID IT AGAIN!

I almost tore my hair out in frustration.

“I have a name, too, you know.”

I can’t have talked again.

Malfoy was looking at me, as if waiting for a reply.

Oh! Haha...I didn’t actually talk that time...haha...ha...

Save a room at Mungo’s...

“Of course you do,” I said, blinking. What was he getting at?

“I’m not Malfoy,” he said, looking straight into my eyes. It was then I truly recognized the gentleness in his gaze... “I’m not my father.”

I saw his fists clench, something flicker in his eyes before all gentleness disappeared. It was once again the sharp, intense gaze I was so accustomed to. “I’m not.”

There was a tinge of pleading, of desperation in his words. It was as if he needed to hear it from my mouth...as if he wanted to know, to reassure himself, that he wasn’t like Lucius Malfoy.

“You’re not,” I said, a small smile adorning my features. “Of course you’re not.”

We flew back to Hogwarts together. We didn’t talk anymore, and the moment we hit the quidditch pitch Malfoy got down and walked silently away. I watched his retreating figure, wondering how in bloody hell everything came to this.

I could’ve sworn he gave me one last fleeting look before walking back into the castle.

My life was ruined.

It was absolutely ruined.

I was falling for Draco Malfoy.

I walked back to Hogwarts after stashing Harry’s firebolt into its proper place in the broom shed. It would nearly be lunch time, and I was desperate to get my mind off of Malfoy. Maybe I would memorize Antigone once more. Or I could borrow the Daily Prophet from Hermione, she should’ve gotten it by now...

And just to my luck, it was Hermione’s figure I saw sitting among a few others at the Gryffindor table. She had the daily prophet open in front of her, clearly avidly reading it.

“Hermione!” I said as I plopped next to her. “I need to–”

“Have you heard?” she whispered, her eyes wide. “Oh Merlin, Ginny, have you?”

“Have I heard what?”

This was curious. Hermione wasn’t a big ear for gossip. How could she have known about Lavender and Neville? I bet it was Parvati, she can’t deny good gossip, even if it is her best friend–

“Malfoy.” That caught my attention.

“Malfoy what?” I asked, blinking. Hermione nodded to the article she was reading, and the headline explained everything. Malfoy’s odd behavior today, that look of desperation...everything...

“Narcissa Malfoy killed by husband, burned alive,” Hermione whispered. “It’s horrible. I wonder–wonder if Malfoy knows.”

Merlin.

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reviewing’s good for the soul...

A/N: some of my friends think that Ginny was wildy out of character in this chapter, but if Ginny and Draco were ever to get together, I always envisioned it happening somewhat along these lines. I mean really, enemies do make the best of couples, and who’s a better vixen than a sexy, upset Draco Malfoy? Just to clarify, the first portion was Friday, and then the part where Ginny goes on a broomstick is Saturday. So yes, they are different days.

A/N: Sorry for the delay. I’ve been on a writing brink...you’d think with summer here I’d have more time on my hands, wouldn’t you? Unfortunately, not the case. Sadly. But here I am, with another chapter. I hope you like...this one was really difficult to write and I still feel as if I could’ve done a lot better, but how I could’ve done better I don’t really know. Hopefully my brilliance was good enough...

Thanks for all you that reviewed and continuously begged me to update, it’s the only thing that kept me at this story!

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Seven Days Later

Chapter Three: Not What I Expected At All

~-~-~-~-~-~

Malfoy sighed, rubbing his temples as he looked at me from across the table.

“I’m assuming you heard.”

“Heard what?”

“Don’t play dumb, Virginia. Although it does suit you Weasleys nicely.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mal–Draco.”

Merlin damnit, was I being obvious?

“I’m okay, little Weasel.” I couldn’t look him in the eye. “Really, I am. I certainly don’t need pity from the likes of you.”

“I don’t pity you,” I whispered, still unable to look him in the eye. Instead I focused my gaze on my quill, noticing the delicate droop of the feathers as I swished it back and forth.

“Like hell you don’t. You’re probably thinking how sad it must be for poor little Malfoy. How absolutely terrible. Save your bloody tears.”

“I–”

“If you’re going to be stuttering your way tonight, I’ve had enough. I’m sick of this library as it is. All these musty odors are clogging my delicate pores.”

Malfoy pushed his chair out and grabbed his things, ignoring me as he swept past me and towards the large double doors.

I don’t really know why I followed him.

Maybe it was the way he looked that morning in the great hall, the desperate glaze in his eyes that seemed to suck the breath out of my lungs. Or maybe it was the way his face remained expressionless, void of his smirk, his pout...his smile. Or maybe it was just the fact that Draco Malfoy called me Virginia, caught me in his warm embrace and didn’t let go. Maybe it was the fact that I was falling hard for the bastard.

Whatever the reason, I grabbed my things and ran out of the library after him, frantically trying to follow him. Thankfully, I saw the swish of his cloak move past Uric the Oddball and I lengthened my stances. I followed for a full seven minutes and eleven flights of stairs before he ran into a room and closed the door behind him.

Here was the point of no return

I could either turn back and pretend this never happened, fall back into our comfortable routine...or I could walk in, and change things forever.

Because I wasn’t naive. I knew things would change. We wouldn’t be friends or anything, but things would change.

Well. I hate boredom.

So I slowly opened the door, peeking my head in before stepping fully into the room.

Malfoy was no where to be found.

~-~-~-~-~-~

“Ginny, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Well...allright.”

“I’m just tired. From all the studying I’ve been doing, my head feels like a wet mess of Ron’s attempts at a hangover potion.”

“Why don’t you take a break, Gin?”

“Hath my ears hearest you correctly? Is Hermione Granger telling me to take a break from studying?”

“Preoccupation does nothing for concentration. Why do you think I allow Harry and Ron to play chess so often? Sheer, easy entertainment.”

“I don’t know...”

“You could go out for a fly,” Hermione said, peering out the window next to her as her bewitched needles continued to make wooly bladders. I mean, hats. “Or not. Malfoy just got on his broom.”

Malfoy?

“Malfoy?”

“Yeah. Over the quidditch pitch...guess flying’s not an option anymore.”

Hermione turned back around to look around the common room.

“Have you seen Harry lately?”

“Nope.”

Malfoy on the quidditch pitch...

“It’s so weird, I feel like...like he’s actively avoiding me, or something. Has he talked to you about anything? It’s like he doesn’t trust me anymore...”

Should I go? I mean, I don’t want to seem staulkerish. But...I wanted to go. I mean, I want to go. See Malfoy. Quidditch pitch...

“I’m sure it’s nothing, Hermione. Maybe he’s pmsing.”

“Males don’t pms, Ginny.”

“Sure they do. They just don’t bleed out their vaginas.”

“They don’t have vaginas, either.”

“They have penises. It’s an even worse curse.”

That’s weird though, isn’t it? That I wanted to see Malfoy? Usually I do all in my power to avoid him...like he was avoiding me. Since yesterday, when Hermione told me what happened to his mum, he was acting even more solitary than usual. He wasn’t flanked by his two flowerpots, for one. Sat alone without the presence of fucking prissy Parkinson at the Slytherin table...

“Ginny, what would your mum do if she heard you talking the way you do. You Weasleys just don’t know the idea of censorship, do you?”

In three days we had our presentation, and we still hadn’t got together to do any real work.

“Living with my brothers...I’m the most censored of us all.”

Did I really care about that anymore? Suddenly, seeking revenge on Harry didn’t seem quite as important. Or showing up Malfoy. I just...

I just wanted to see the bastard.

“That’s a scary thought.”

“I think I’m going to take a walk, Hermione. This common room’s getting stuffy all of a sudden, I hate drafty castles sometimes,” I said while grabbing my cloak from the floor next to the squashy armchair. “And if I see Harry, I’ll tell him to dock his head on straight.”

“Thanks, Gin,” Hermione replied, giving me a small smile before flipping the Phantom of the Opera book in her hands open.

Quidditch pitch.

~-~-~-~-~-~

“What the fuck are you doing, little Weasley.”

What was I expecting, a warm welcome?

“Good to see you too, Malfoy.”

“Oh shut up! Shut the fuck up!”

Hm. Malfoy, the usual calm and composed snivelly nosed brat.

Malfoy dove down on his broomstick, landing hard and marching up to me, his hair wild and his eyes even crazier. I’d never seen him this vulnerable, this rough. He nearly charged at me like an animal, shoving his face in front of mine.

“Let’s go comfort poor, twisted Malfoy! The sudden orphan who’s father is a murderer and who’s mother is a snivelling carcass! He must be a Deatheater, the sad bastard! Right? Right Virginia?!”

I had no words. All I could do there was lock my knees and stare, my mouth slightly open. This was just strange to me. I didn’t know what I expected when I went down to the pitch but this certainly wasn’t in any of my peripheral vision.

“And what’s with you! Following me around like a wet dog, staring at me with those eyes like I’m some disfigured, dying baby dragon! Merlin Weasley, you drive me mad! I don’t need your fucking pity, I don’t need anyone’s! I’m perfectly, undeniably fine!”

He was breathing hard from all his yelling, his hands clenching and unclenching next to his stiff body. Suddenly he took a deep breath and stepped backwards, his jaw tight and his eyes closed.

“Why don’t you just fucking go and leave me the hell alone, Weasley,” he said. I bristled at the way he wouldn’t even look at me.

“I thought we agreed my name was Ginny.”

His brow furrowed and his nose flared and his shoulders tensed...and it was wonderful.

He ducked his head and his unkempt hair fell in front of his eyes, shielding me from any emotion he was surely hiding from me. This happened to me all the time, and I was used to this brink, this sacrifice.

Pain is always shielded by anger. Bitterness, wrath...once it’s all gone, all you have left is the sorrow. After you scream and chuck and kick and you can’t say anything else due to the rawness in your throat, you only had one thing left to do. Cry. It took all the self restraint in the world to keep tears at bay, and after unleashing such emotion, your body was too weak to continue. Suddenly all you could was push your back against the wall, fall to your knees and cry.

“Just go, can’t you?” he finally asked me, letting out deep, controlled breaths. After a few moments, when he realized I wasn’t moving, he turned around swiftly and approached his fallen broom.

All of a sudden, I found myself moving. It was like I was possessed, made to walk to him, but it made, strangely, the most sense in the world.

“I thought I told you to leave me the fuck alone!” he screamed, whirling around to face me.

“Draco...you’re crying.”

I don’t know why I said it. I think I was so stunned by the idea of Draco crying that it came out in all my stupefied glory.

He stopped, blinking, looking confused before taking his fingers and swiping them under his eyes. To his amazement, he found tears clinging to his skin. He looked back at me, his brow furrowed before he finally whispered, “you called me Draco.”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?” I croaked out, my throat dry as I felt my heart squeeze. Crying was so foreign to him it amazed him...and yet his name on my lips was what brought a gentle tone to his own words.

“Yeah,” he said, wiping away the rest of his tears. “But so’s Malfoy.”

“You’re not your father, you know.”

“I know that,” he snapped, the fire back in his words as he turned to glare at me. “I realize that I’m not my father.”

“No, I don’t think you do.”

I took a step closer, suddenly desperate to make him understand that I didn’t hate him.

“I’m...” Draco looked at me, hesitating, before sighing and scratching his neck as he looked away. “I’m sorry for what he did third year.”

“You shouldn’t need to apologize for what he did.”

“I know...I just wanted you to know. That I’m...sorry. For what...happened to you.”

“Well thanks, Draco.”

“And you know, I don’t really hate you. Or...or your family. Or the mud...Granger. I just...I don’t know. I was just brought up to think that I...I had to, or something...I...”

He turned towards me, sighing before glaring at me. “No, I take that back.” I swallowed. “I do hate you, for what you do to me. I mean fuck it, why the hell am I telling you this shit? My entire fucking life’s story? It’s like...I feel obligated. What spell did you use, Weasley? What fucking potion?”

“Nothing,” I said, my eyes wide.

“It has to be! I wouldn’t do this fucking shit if I weren’t...if I weren’t under some damned spell! I’m a Malfoy, I don’t–”

But he stopped after he spoke those words. His eyes were wide with rage but with a sudden realization, they fell to sorrow. Those three words, “I’m a Malfoy,” were so familiar in his mouth that he spoke them with whatever compulsion of condescending fervor he felt. He closed his mouth and straightened his back before whispering “I’m a Malfoy,” his eyes darting to my red hair.

“No,” I whispered, racing forwards to catch his face in my hands. I don’t really know why I did it...but he looked so incredibly lost. So lost it scared me, seeing his eyes suddenly dull. I was so used to seeing...I don’t know...something in them...hatred, mischievousness, that it killed me to see him so...so lifeless...

I missed the bastard. Gone were the taunts, the mockery...the only thing left was a shell-less ghost who didn’t know where to turn, only knowing that he was a arsehole because that was his blood. His calling.

Only I didn’t believe it.

“Merlin, Draco, will you look at me?”

My palms cupped his cheeks as he finally moved his eyes away from my hair and into my eyes, looking the most vulnerable I had ever seen him. The only person who even touched the lifelessness he held was Harry, Harry in his worst state.

“You’re not a Malfoy! It’s only a name, it’s not your life’s calling, you’re not destined to follow whatever heritage your forefathers have left behind–”

“I am,” he said, swallowing before prying my hands away from his face. “I mean...look at you. You’re a Weasley.” Noticing the sudden coldness of my eyes he shook his head, licking his lips before saying, “I didn’t mean it that way...I just meant...look at your family. You...you’re you because of them, aren’t you? Same...same morals, same ambitions. Family’s blood, you can’t just tear away from it...and people hate you for it. People...people hate me for it, too...”

Draco took a deep breath, looking down at my hands. He was still holding them...I never noticed. Huh. His fingers were calloused, like Harry’s, but they felt so much more...delicate than his. They were cold, though, and pale, but his fingers were long and held mine gently.

“You hate me,” he whispered, swallowing once more.

“No!” I said, shaking my head as he looked at me. “I don’t!”

“Yeah, you do,” he said, smiling slightly as he looked back down at my hands. “You say differently...but you do. It’s in the way you look at me, the way you can’t stand to be around me. Everyone hates me.”

This was so weird. Draco was sharing his sincere, soft side of him and I didn’t know what to do. I knew he was lost with himself, that he was trying to prove to himself he wasn’t anything like his father, but it was still weird. It still left me speechless, wondering if he really was on some potion or under some spell.

Oh my Merlin, this wasn’t what I was expecting when I told Hermione I was going to go out for a bit. I wasn’t expecting to hear such a confessional from Draco...why was he being like this? It was throwing me off, and I needed my head clear right now. Hearing him talking like this and having him hold my hands the way he was was doing funny things to me...

“Stop it,” I said, swallowing and shaking my head slightly. “You...you have to get your head on straight. People don’t hate you, they respect you. But keep this up and...and they won’t have anything left to respect. Blood doesn’t keep you tied to your family, love does. And you don’t love your father, right? So...so you don’t have to have anything to do with him. You don’t.”

“You make it sound so easy, little Weaslette.”

He chuckled, a lifeless, echo of a chuckle, before taking a deep breathe and looking around at the stadium.

He needed this.

“Come on, Draco. Let’s go flying.”

He gave me a grateful smile, even if it was a small smile, and we climbed our broomsticks. We didn’t talk for the next thirty two minutes and twelve seconds; we’d done enough of that. Instead, we just flew.

I still had a mountain load of homework to do, just waiting for me in my dormitory, so after one last glance at Draco my feet touched the ground. I began to walk up to the castle but I heard my name being called. Turning around, I saw Draco dive down and before I knew it his lips were on mine, his hands in my hair.

What?

What the fucking hell?

It was brilliant. Couldn’t have lasted more than two seconds, but it was bleeding brilliant. His mouth was surprisingly warm and...and it was just brilliant.

Brilliant.

Just a soft, physical show of gratitude, I knew.

This was dangerous.

I was falling for the bastard and kissing him wasn’t going to fix it. If anything, it would increase my infatuation.

Draco was a fucking damn amazing kisser...

Why was he kissing me again?

Bleeding brilliant.

“Thanks,” he whispered, his lips a centimeter from mine. He was so close that when his lips moved to say that word, it subtly touched my own.

It was the sexiest thing I had ever witnessed for myself.

“You owe me,” I replied before winding my hand behind his head and crushing his lips back onto mine.

Not what I had expected at all.

~-~-~-~-~-~

reviewing’s good for the soul...

A/N: A hopefully quick update, woohoo! I’m on a roll! Thanks to meag, Rowena, Maegmel, PrettyPadfoot, Marie, laila, rachel, Kalypso, slymom, OrangeCrush, queenbea175, Big T, and funky faerie87 for reviewing! Keep doing what you do, and I’ll keep updating. Thanks for keeping my spirits up.

“We Might As Well Be Strangers” is by Keane. Love them. A magazine just recently compared them to Coldplay as their “followers” or some type of “mock music” and gr, stupid magazine! How dare you! Besides a singer, a piano and Great Britain they’re completely different. Gr. Just gr.

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Seven Days Later

Chapter Four: We Might As Well Be Strangers

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“GET YOUR FUCKING FERRET HANDS OFF HER!”

I was brought back, quite harshly, to reality at the sound of Harry’s voice whipping across the Quidditch field. We broke off to see him running towards us, his wand outstretched in an iron grip as his broom dangled in his other hand.

“I said to get your fucking ferret hands off of her,” he stated again and Draco raised his hands in mock defeat, lifting his eyebrows and smirking at Harry.

“Harry,” I spat, narrowing my eyes at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“That’s what I should be asking you!” he nearly screamed, his eyes widening at the glare of my own. “You’re...you’re...you’re...”

“Snogging me, yes.”

My eyes snapped to Draco as he finished Harry’s sentence for him. Harry opened his mouth but quickly shut it in annoyance.

“I know what you two were doing,” he finally hissed.

“Obviously,” I muttered, shaking my head. “Harry, put your wand down.” Draco snickered and I shot him a look...what a perverted bastard.

“Let’s go, Ginny.” Harry grabbed my arm and tugged me away from Draco, who gave me a small smile before turning around, placing his hands within his robe pockets and humming.

Egotistical prick.

“What the fucking hell were you doing!” Harry muttered angrily as we trudged back to the common room.

“I thought that was obvious,” I said quietly. Harry let out a deep moan of exasperation and twirled me around so I was facing him, feet from the Hogwarts steps.

“I’m serious,” Harry said, looking me in the eyes as his hands held my shoulders. “I’m being bloody serious, Gin. Snogging Draco Malfoy? What were you thinking?”

“I don’t know, I...well...I came down here for a fly and he was there and...”

“And you were so bored you decided to snog bleeding Malfoy?!”

“No! What type of tramp do you take me for, Harry?!”

“You were sno–”

“We’ve already gotten past that.” Damnit, why was Harry being such a complete and total mosquito bite on my fucking ass?! “Look, I don’t expect you to understand, but Draco and I...we...well, I don’t know about we...I hope we...okay, I know that I...well...”

“You can’t possibly love him, or something absurd like that,” Harry said, his eyes widening again. “Right? Tell me I’m right, Gin, I don’t think I could take another answer.”

“I was just comforting him,” I went on, avoiding his question and his eyes altogether. “His mum’s death really rattled him, and I was comforting him and the next thing I know, he kisses me and I sorta...well...kissed him back...”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Damnit.

I sighed, my eyes finding purchase on my shoes.

I don’t know.

It was a question I was asking myself, too.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. Harry sighed deeply, straightening his back as he took his hands off my shoulders. “I just...I think I might be falling for him...”

“How can you be falling for Draco Malfoy? Did he poison you, or something? Love Potion?” His eyebrows scrunching together, he added quietly, “Lust Potion?”

“Harry! Be reasonable.”

“Impossible. I’m scarred for life. I come down here for a relaxing flight and I see you snogging Malfoy...it’ll give me nightmares for years, Gin. Years. I just want to know what you were thinking, sno–”

“How many times do you have to say that?! Repeating it over and over won’t erase my actions! I don’t know what I was thinking, I wasn’t exactly recording my thoughts while I was snogging the dirty bastard!”

“Why would you snog him if he’s a bastard?”

“Because I like him!” I exploded, throwing my hands in the air as I looked at Harry. “I like that he’s a bastard, because it makes me feel good that I know a part of him no one else does! I like that he’s a bastard because it’s so human, so real, ripping that mask off him and finding the vulnerable flesh beneath it. Because he makes me feel real, too, in some way...because he makes me fucking angry and yell and scream and feel all sorts of sinful passion when we argue!”

Noticing Harry’s silence I continued, nearly spitting in his face.

“I like that he’s shown me something secret and forbidden. That for once, I’m trusted with something that important. To him, I’m not the sister of six older brothers, the youngest Weasley, tagalong, admirer of Harry Potter. I’m Ginny Fucking Weasley. An equal.”

“He’ll never consider you an equal, Gin,” Harry muttered.

“He does,” I snapped, my eyes brimming with tears, “He will.”

“He won’t,” Harry muttered again, with that maddening calmness. “He’s just softening you up to get you into bed with him so he can use it against us.”

“Is that all I’m worth?! I’m just a pair of legs, a bleeding walking trophy? Is that all you see me as?!”

“Gin, no! You–”

“He’s not Lucius, Harry...he’s Draco, his own person. Just give him a chance–”

“To screw us over? To drag us into a trap? I don’t trust the Ferret, and why you trust him is beyond any measure of comprehension–”

“His father just murdered his mother! Murdered, Harry! He...he’s different, now...He is...really, Harry, he is...”

“Who’re you trying to convince, Gin.”

“I know he’s different,” I whispered fervently.

“I don’t care what you say, he’s a Malfoy and–”

“Well you’re a Dursley, and–”

“How dare you!” Harry bellowed. “I’m a Potter!”

“They’re still blood relatives,” I screamed. “Percy’s a Weasley! Hagrid’s a half giant! Sirius is a Black!”

“Was,” Harry muttered.

I opened my mouth to reply but nothing came out. We stood there, the wind hitting us with the force of our words before I sighed and raked my fingers through my hair as it whipped beyond the constrains of my ears.

“Was,” I eventually echoed.

“I don’t care what you say, Malfoy’s not to be trusted, and I won’t allow you to see him privately anymore.”

“Have you forgotten? We have our presentation in a few days, and we haven’t exactly–”

“Bullshit. I know you’ve assigned parts, you don’t need to rehearse together, alone.”

“You can’t do this to me, Harry. I’m my own person, you can’t just–”

“You see him again and I’ll tell Ron.”

“Tell him!” I screamed, prodding Harry in the chest. “Tell everyone! I don’t fucking give a damn!”

“Ginny, why are you doing this? Why is he so important to you?”

Those words stopped me.

Why was he so important to me?

I might be falling for him, but a crush was never...

“He...he isn’t. It’s the symbolism of it, Harry. The injustice that a name automatically brings to a person that overshadows any second chances. His mum was just murdered by his father, and still everyone considers him his father’s son. It’s just..wrong, Harry.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Harry whispered, fixing the position of his glasses.

“You don’t think at all, that’s it,” I replied, glaring at him. I twirled around and stomped back to the common room, relieved to see that I wouldn’t have to deal with Hermione’s questions.

I nestled into the thankfully empty armchair and sighed, closing my eyes.

Bleeding hell.

~-~-~-~-~-~

Tomorrow we had our presentation and we hadn’t met to rehearse. I knew I had my lines memorized but I just wanted the secure knowledge that we would be all right.

I mean, our presentation.

I passed him in the hall and moved to grab his arm but Harry came out of nowhere, stepping between me and Draco. Draco glared at Harry and we passed, no interaction whatsoever.

“Git!” I whispered into his ear.

He didn’t say anything, just looked at me before escorting me to my next class.

Eugh.

I skipped lunch so I could get some last minute crunching for my Arithmacy exam. But upon entering the Entrance Hall for dinner, ten minutes later than everyone else, a hand grabbed my arm and I was pulled into the dark alcove next to the doors.

“She-Weasel,” Draco whispered.

“Snotty Ferret.”

“Touché.”

“What do you want?”

“A quick snog before dinner.”

“Prat,” I muttered, pushing my hands against his chest. “What we really should be doing is rehearsing.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’ve got everything memorized and in place in my perfectly sculpted head.”

“But I do worry. Oh so much.”

He grinned at my sarcasm and before I knew it, the words I’d been dying to ask spilled out of my mouth.

“What are we going to do now?”

“About what? I said not to worry, and I think even you can manage to get a few lines–”

“No, I meant about...about yesterday...”

“What about yesterday?”

“On the Quidditch Pitch. Don’t act like an idiot, Draco. You may be an arrogant prick and a bastardly ass but you’re not stupid.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Answer my question.”

“What question?”

Suddenly Harry’s words flooded back to me. He thought Draco snogged me to get down my pants, or up my skirt, as a trophy. To terrorize me, taunt Ron, ruin the Weasley name. I know that’s what he thought...

But that couldn’t be it...could it?

And before I knew it, I was spilling words again.

“Tell me it meant something, that...that I meant something.”

“That’s not a question.”

“Just tell me!”

Draco hesitated before chuckling, pulling me closer and whispering, “Haven’t we talked enough?”

“It...it did mean something to you, didn’t it? Our kiss?”

“Of course it did.”

“What did it mean?”

Draco blinked at me, his face smooth and without emotion.

“What exactly do you want it to mean?”

“I...”

“It meant I wanted you, and you wanted me. So let’s just–”

Oh.

Harry...was right.

He was right.

“Harry’s right,” I whispered, shoving Draco away from me.

“Potter?” Draco spat, a trace of anger in his eyes. “What does Potter have to do with this?”

“You don’t care about me at all,” I stated, blinking. “I’m nothing to you but a trophy.”

“Now see here, you–”

But I had nothing to say. I didn’t want to hear anything he was saying, either. So I turned around and began to walk away...only to have his hand roughly tug me back.

I whirled around and before he saw what was coming I slapped him, hard, across the cheek. The clap was heard throughout the hall and it reverberated against the cold, stone walls.

“Do I, or do I not, mean something to you.” His silence reached my ears and after ten seconds I couldn’t bear it any longer. “Didn’t it mean anything to you?”

“We only snogged!” Draco finally said, avoiding my eyes. “For Merlin’s sake, what do you want from me? Professing my eternal love?”

Then it hit me.

I did.

I really did.

I didn’t want him professing eternal love, but I did want something from him...I wanted him to tell me I wasn’t hallucinating, imagining things. That he felt something, just like I’d felt something...that I was something.

That he kissed me not because he was horny or because he figured it would just be another snog, but because he wanted it to mean something...because I meant something to him and he wanted to share that with me.

And the moment I grasped that I realized that he never would, never did, feel the same way.

“No,” I finally said, walking away from him. “I would never want that from a Malfoy.”

~-~-~-~-~-~

I was sitting once again in my favorite armchair, gazing into the fireplace. Fire. That’s what I was. That’s what I was always referred to...Mum used to call me her little fireball. To dad, I was his eternal flame. Never doused. Couldn’t be doused.

I was blazing, a temper like a wildfire, soothing like a fireplace on a cold winter’s night.

That was me.

But I had been extinguished, for a moment. I had let Malfoy do that to me.

“Gin?”

“Hey, Harry.”

“You...okay?”

“You were right,” I said monotonously, still gazing into the fire. “You were right.”

“I...I’m sorry...”

“Doubtful.”

“I don’t like seeing you hurt, Gin. Better now than...well...later...it’s for the best, really...”

“I suppose it is.”

Harry sighed and sat across from me on the couch, handing me a piece of fudge.

“I brought you a piece of dessert.”

“Thanks,” I whispered, holding it limply in my hands.

“Chocolate makes you feel better.”

“A fact every girl knows. Especially Hermione. She’ll try to keep it a secret as long as possible, but she’s addicted. She’s been munching chocolate by the barrels lately.”

“Oh,” Harry muttered, looking guilty.

“All your fault,” I said, laying my head on the top of the armchair. “Avoiding her the way you have, she feels miserable.”

“It’s not like I want to avoid her, I–”

“Then why do you do it?” I asked, suddenly exhausted.

“Because...oh bloody hell, Gin, it’s because I think I love her.”

My head snapped up.

I hadn’t expected that.

“You think what?”

Harry sighed, closing his eyes as if reprimanding himself for what he had just uttered.

“You love Hermione?” I whispered. “But I thought Ron...”

“He’s gotten over her,” he stated. “And this whole project’s been giving Hermione and I a lot of time together, just the two of us. And you know...I really think I...I love her...but I can’t be sure, I’ve never really loved someone like that before...maybe it’s just...inconsequential...anyway, I couldn’t do anything about it. Hermione’s too important to me to play with as a girlfriend, it could ruin–”

But Harry broke off as he looked up to see me crying.

“Gin, what–”

“If you bleeding love her, Potter, do something about it!”

“I can’t!” he replied, his eyes wide. “Don’t you think I would’ve if I could?”

“It’s quite simple,” I said, not bothering to wipe my tears away. “Three words. Three words that seem so meaningless, so incongruous...but that’s all you have to do, Harry. Tell her you care about her. That she’s everything to you. That you love her.”

“Gin, you–”

“It’s really the least you could do,” I continued. “If you have feelings you don’t just lock them away. Life keeps moving, you have to learn to move with it. You owe it to yourself and Hermione to at least talk to her about it. She loves you, Harry. She’s miserable without you...don’t do that to her...if she’s really that important, you’d try to make her smile again...”

“Ginny...”

“If you’ll excuse me,” I said, feeling a bitter tear as it settled on the corner of my mouth. “I think I’m going to bed.”

“Gin, wait–”

I was pathetic. So fucking weak. I was fucking crying over Draco Malfoy.

I hated myself. For letting myself get into this...get this entangled in feelings I shouldn’t have...

I actually thought I had gotten through to him. That I had witnessed something special, something secret, something so solidly transparent that even I couldn’t understand it all, just that I had witnessed it. I thought it meant something to him, too, that I had taken the chance and allowed myself to see it...that being vulnerable and clear to my eyes was reassuring to him, in a way.

But I was being stupid.

He might have been grieving, sure. I might have seen something, sure. But it wasn’t worth it...wasn’t what I thought it was. Not even close.

I closed the dormitory door behind me and looked at my clenched hand, feeling the stickiness of the chocolate ooze through my fingers.

That was it.

I sighed and walked to the bathroom, placing my hands underneath the faucet. I turned the handle and a hot jet of water sprayed over my hands...I didn’t even bother with soap.

I could clean this mess on my own.

I looked up at the mirror to see my face, blotched with anger and stained with tears. I glared at my reflection before looking back down and at my hands and I couldn’t help but smile. I glanced back up and stared myself down, feeling the warm water comfort me.

“I wash myself of this mess,” I whispered. “I wash myself of you, Draco Malfoy.”

~-~-~-~-~-~

“Ginny, we need to talk.”

“The name’s Weasley, Malfoy.”

“What are you on? You–”

“Let’s just get this over with and we won’t have to converse for the rest of our lives.”

“But–”

“Shut it, Malfoy.”

Turning to our audience I began.

“‘Antigone’ is a story about a young girl who’s two brothers, on opposing sides, died in a battle. Her uncle, Creon, issued an edict that stated the opposing brother could not be buried and should instead rot as punishment for his betrayal. Burial was a big thing at this time, and without a proper burial it was believed that the soul could not reach any means of restful death. Antigone took it upon herself to properly bury her brother but she was caught and is taken to Creon for judgement. This scene is that scene.”

I turned towards Malfoy to see him glaring at me.

“Wouldst thou do more than take and slay me?”

Broke my fucking heart in two, that’s what more you did.

“No more, indeed; having that, I have all,” Draco said, clenching his fists.

Didn’t have me.

“Why then dost thou delay? In they discourse there is nought that pleases me, never may there be!, and so my words must needs be unpleasing to thee. And yet, for glory–whence could I have won a nobler, than by giving burial to mine own brother? All here would own that they thought it well, were not their lips sealed by fear. But royalty, blest in so much besides, hath the power to do and say what it will.”

“Thou differest from all these Thebans in that view.”

Yeah. I opened up to you. I gave you a chance. Mistake.

“These also share it; but they curb their tongues for thee,” I spat.

Damn you, Malfoy.

“And art thou not ashamed to act apart from them?” Malfoy asked, almost truthfully.

“No; there is nothing shameful in believing that...” Damnit. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “No; there is nothing shameful in piety to a brother.”

Yes, it is shameful.

“Was it not a brother, too, that died in the opposite cause?”

“Brother by the same mother and same sire,” I whispered.

What would Ron do if he found out...

“Why, then, dost thou render a grace that is impious in his sight?” Malfoy asked.

Why would I hurt him like that? Having affections for a Malfoy...

“The dead man will not say that he so deems it.”

But he’s not a Malfoy...he’s just...Draco...

“Yea, if thou makest him but equal in honur with the wicked.”

“It was his brother, not his slave, that perished!” I shouted.

It was my idiocy, not my heart, that died, you bastard.

“Wasting this land; while he fell as its champion,” Draco recited, raking his eyes over me.

A part of him died with his mother...

“Nevertheless, Hades desires these rites.”

“But the good desires not a like portion with the evil,” he recounted.

“Who knows but this seems blameless in the world below?”

“A foe is never a friend,” Draco stated slowly, enunciating every syllable. “Not even in death.”

I know.

“Tis not my nature to join in hating, but in loving.”

Loving you. No. I’m not Antigone, Malfoy. I fucking hate you.

“Pass, then, to the world of the dead, and, it thou must needs love, love them. While I live,” Malfoy said, looking me in the eye, “no woman shall rule me.”

I turned to bow but Malfoy continued to talk.

“I, however, shall willingly submit to thee.”

What the hell is he doing? The scene already ended...the class didn’t heed a difference but Ms. Clearwater frowned, her notes stalling as she raised her head to glance at Malfoy. He, on the other hand, opened his mouth and I could just see him making up these words as he went along.

“Stupidly, foolishly, I allowed my pride to overtake my sense. I beg for forgiveness, my Antigone.”

What?

“Twas a noble act you committed,” he continued, taking a step closer. “And like a beggar I shied away from the unfamiliar...it is, however, time to act upon thy deeds.”

He couldn’t be.

“You once asked of me what it meant. It meant everything I was frightened it could mean.”

He was.

“Eternal love, I cannot promise,” Draco whispered, now only a foot away from me. “But I bestow myself at your feet, in hopes of a maiden’s affections.”

“Enough,” Ms. Clearwater shrang and Draco looked at her in slight surprise. “That concludes the scene. Next! Ginny, Draco, go outside in the hall and take off your costumes.”

I climbed off the stage and the moment we both made it outside I turned, hissing, “What the bleeding hell was that? You could have compromised our grade! Everything we’ve worked for!”

“Exactly.”

What?

“Fucking bitch, you ran away before I could tell you–”

“Ran away? I gave you two fucking chances–”

“Just shut it! Here I am, trying to tell you something and once again, you have to just–”

“I have to just what? Huh? Not lay there and wait patiently for you to get your mouth around words that you’ll never say? I’m done with you, Malfoy. Done. So don’t–”

“Well I’m not fucking done with you!”

“What, you want another snog? We did that two days ago and I’ve already got plans with someone else for ‘someday’–”

“Did you not just hear me in there?” Malfoy exploded, pointing back at the classroom. He growled before waving his wand and muttering the silencing charm on our portion of the hallway. “Did you just not fucking hear me in there?!”

“What was there to hear!” I screamed, infuriated. “If you wanted to tell me something, just tell me! Don’t–”

“Most women would have found that bleedingly romantic! And here you are, pissed off that–”

“You’re right I’m pissed,” I hissed. “You tell me all our kiss meant to you was just a snog and then you go in front of our class, in front of our peers, in a play, where we’re acting, to tell me–”

Exactly what I wanted to hear.

“Exactly what you wanted to hear,” Malfoy whispered. “And you know it. And that’s why you’re pissed off. Because you love me. And you hate me for it.”

“You’re right,” I said, lifting my chin defiantly. “I do hate you. But I don’t love you...I never will, never did–”

“Fine,” Malfoy spat. “Fine.” He then turned around and staulked off, away from class, away from Ms. Clearwater, who had finally wondered where we were and opened the door, and away from me.

He had turned around and walked away from me.

~-~-~-~-~-~

reviewing’s good for the soul...

A/N: Wow, that was a long one! Just one more chapter to go! I was planning on finishing with this one but it got a little long...oh well, I think it’s for the best. I love that scene in ‘Antigone,’ and I thought it fit the scenario perfectly. So glad I didn’t do the widely overused ‘Romeo and Juliet.’ I was thinking about including a slight portion of Hermione and Harry’s performance, but it just never really fit. Should I have the resolution of their conflict in the resolution of my story? Not too sure...tell me in your review...

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and stuck with this story. It’s been hard times, and consider this my very belated Christmas/Holiday present.

~-~-~-~-~-~

Seven Days Later

Chapter Five: Seven Days Later

~-~-~-~-~-~

“Ginny?”

I stood there, breathing deeply as I saw him turn a right sharply.

He didn’t even bother with a backwards glance.

“Ms. Weasley?”

My hands unclenched at my sides and I blinked steadily, but I could tell my stance was still rigid and the scowl on my face melting with time.

“For Merlin’s sake–”

“What?”

I turned around to see Ms. Clearwater standing with the door knob in her hand, a furious expression in her eyes. Oh.

“If you would please return to class, I only needed you to remove your costume...where’s Mr. Malfoy?”

“He...”

I drove him away again.

“Yes?”

“...went to the infirmary. Something about a headache...you know, the ferret can’t withstand slight pain.”

“Please do not insult your peers in front of me, Ms. Weasley.”

But she was smiling.

I nodded quickly and shuffled back in class, horribly aware that everyone was staring at me and the red, angry blotches clear on my pained face.

“Potter, Granger...up on the stage, please...”

For the next ten minutes I pleasured myself with Hermione’s horrible acting, Harry’s continuous blushing and the outburst from the class when they ended their scene with a kiss.

I couldn’t help but fade when they broke apart.

~-~-~-~-~-~

“Gin, what was that about?”

“It’s none of your business, Ron.”

“Did he hurt you? I swear to Merlin I will beat his ferret arse–”

“As if you could.”

“Ginny!”

“Ronald!”

“Of course I could!”

“Please, save me your desperate attempts at scrambling for masculinity, I have charms homework I have to do.”

I pushed past Ron towards the girls dormitory, the stairs edging closer and closer...but then I collided hard with a solid body, furious brown eyes peering down at me.

I hated how tall Ron had gotten.

“Yes?” I snapped, taking the time to swipe my hair away from my forehead.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you, and the look on your face today when you walked back into class. And the look on the bleeding ferret’s face when you two finished up your skit. I’m not an idiot, Gin.”

“News to me.”

“This is how I know something’s up!”

“I’m always a sarcastic, annoying bint, Ron. It doesn’t mean anything.”

With that I shoved past him and stomped up the stairs, all too aware of Ron’s piercing gaze tracing my path to my dormitory.

If Ron Weasley, ignorant prick of England, could tell something was wrong with me...

I sighed.

~-~-~-~-~-~

I ignored Malfoy in my thoughts for the rest of the day. Unsuccessfully, for the most part, but I managed to complete all of my homework in time for a nice, lounging period in the common room with my pillow, the fireplace...

...and Hermione.

“Gin?”

“Yeah?”

“Could...could we go up to your dormitory for a bit?”

“Hermione...”

“It’s just...I need to talk to you about, um, something really important...and...well...”

“You’re head girl, why don’t you just tell everyone to get out of the common room?”

“I could never exercise my powers so vulgarly!” I giggled. “And besides, Malfoy will probably be lurking around like he usually does. And this is definitely something I don’t want him eavesdropping on.”

I swallowed.

“Okay, let’s go.”

We edged quietly around the sofas, careful not to provoke any attention to our departure, and eventually we ended up where I began, huddled in my bed with smiles on our faces.

“So what is it, Hermione?”

“I had a question, really.”

“Shoot.”

“What do you do when...well...you know...you really, really like someone, but you can’t, because of, well, the situation? Not the situation...I can’t call it that, because it’s not really...but it is. In a way. But more of a...I mean, we’re friends. Best of friends. But we can’t have feelings for one another. And he certainly doesn’t have any feelings for me, and it would just ruin things, because we’re friends. Best of friends. And–”

“Hermione,” I whispered, leaning forwards slightly. “If you’re talking about Harry–”

“H-Harry?” Hermione giggled, one of those fake, snorts-up-your-nose sort of giggles that never failed to twitch my smiles, before she sighed and swatted at me with her hand. “What makes you think it’s Harry?”

“You’re being awfully obvious.”

“Obvious? About what? This is just completely hypothetical. Hypothetically, what would I do, if hypothetically, I really, really liked someone, yet hypothetically I couldn’t, because of the hypothetical situation, because we were hypothetically fr–”

“If you like Harry, I think you should go for it.”

“I...I should?”

“Yes.”

“But...what if we don’t...what if we break up? And..and it gets awkward, and the tensions between us make him feel as if he didn’t need me there, and I was so...so tormented by it that I didn’t want to be by his side, when really I do, you know I do, it’s the...and Ron, what about Ron?” Hermione looked at the door, and whispered, “What about Ron?”

“Ron will be fine,” I said reassuringly. “He...he might need some time to adjust, but he knows deep down. Just like all of us knew. It’s okay, Herm...if you don’t trust your feelings, you don’t have anything else to rely upon. Cold, hard facts are worthless if there’s no passionate emotion hugging them tight.”

Hermione looked at me, blinking, as if seeing me for the first time. Finally, she whispered, “Yeah. I guess you’re right.”

~-~-~-~-~-~

Cold hard fact: It’s fucking Draco Malfoy.

Passionate emotion: ...what am I kidding. There’s no passion. No emotion. There’s nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing–

“–to worry about.”

I snapped my head to the side to see Harry Potter standing there, head bowed and feet shuffling.

“Sorry?”

“There’s..something you should know,” he muttered.

“What?”

“Well...Hermione just told me to tell you that she has to switch patrolling times with you. She...uh...has some other business to attend to...”

Harry looked quite guilty, and it was all I could do to stifle the laughs begging to escape.

“Some other business? What, does she have an appointment with shagalicious you?”

“Ginny!” Harry hissed and I couldn’t help it. I barked out laughing.

“It’s not that funny,” he muttered, looking quite frightened. “Hermione and I have to do our Defense Against the Dark Arts project together, we were assigned it today and it’s the only time, because of quidditch and everything...and besides, you’ll be cringing soon enough.”

“Why’s that?”

“Your new patrolling time’s tonight, 8:00...you’re supposed to meet Malfoy in front of McGonagall’s classroom.”

I swear it just got colder.

“What?”

“Malfoy’s your patrolling partner...he...um...doesn’t know, but I guess he’ll figure it out when you start patrolling with him–”

“Harry!” I hissed, stepping closer to him. “How–”

“I know it’s...but...”

Harry looked so dejected...but so hopeful. Here was a perfect opportunity for Harry and Hermione to maybe finally get together...they both knew it, too...

I sighed.

This was huge.

Huger than...

Well.

Nothing.

Yeah, it was nothing. Just another patrol with another bastard.

“Sure, Harry,” I said, smiling at him. “I’ll do it.”

~-~-~-~-~-~

They owe me.

Big.

Okay.

Deep breath.

In.

Out.

Yes.

I shook my head and walked out of the common room, my feet echoing strangely on the stone floor as I moved briskly to McGonagall’s classroom. I could see that I would get there first.

Great.

I had to wait for the ferret boy.

I leaned against the wall next to the door and tapped my foot against the floor.

Five minutes.

Ten minutes.

Fifteen minutes...

Screw this.

I started walking back to the common room but was stopped by a sight I thought I would never see.

Harry and Hermione entering the common room, blushes on their faces and their fingers entwined.

It was just the beginning of the night...they were probably going back up to Harry’s dormitory for some privacy, to talk things out...

...if I walked back in there, Hermione would know. She’d get all flustered and go back to her dorm to talk to Malfoy, demand why he didn’t come..

...it would ruin everything...

I sighed.

Great.

~-~-~-~-~-~

“Excuse me?”

“What,” said the big-nosed, lumpy-haired, glaring woman in the portrait. “Ms. Granger isn’t here, if you’re here to see her.”

“I’m not,” I snapped. “I’m actually here to see Draco Malfoy. Is he in there?”

She sniffed, turned away from me and muttered, “I can’t say.”

Eugh.

“Buckbeak.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s the password. Now open up.”

“How dare you!”

I was the one who thought it up. Hermione got the opportunity to change the password and she asked me if I had any suggestions...

“I gave you the password, so–”

The portrait swung open and I didn’t waste any time walking in.

Okay. Door on the left is Hermione’s. Door on the right should be Malfoy’s...

Right as I walked up to it I heard a groan.

...What?

I grabbed the door knob and stepped inside to find Pansy Parkinson straddling Draco Malfoy, unbuttoning his shirt.

No.

I had to get out of here.

I swallowed and turned around, running out of the room.

Out.

I heard a muffled “Wait!” but I didn’t pay any attention to it, focusing instead of getting out of that hell hole as fast as possible.

Idiot!

What were you expecting? What? Merlin, Ginny, you did it again. It’s fucking Draco Malfoy. You don’t have any feelings for him. You don’t. At all. You’re just upset because he stood Hermione up to have sex with Pansy Parkinson...that’s it. That. Is. It. It has nothing to do with the fact that you thought you had something special with him but he’s really just romping around with that pug...

“Ginny!”

Merlin, was he chasing me? I looked back to see Draco Malfoy running down the stairs, in his pajamas, his shirt still unbuttoned, his nose red and runny, his hair a mess, a thin layer of sweat adorning his skin...

...wait...

“Gin–”

But he didn’t get a chance to finish his sentence. He fell down the stairs instead.

“Draco!” I screamed, running back. Thankfully he only had a few steps to go but he was sprawled on the floor, his face hidden beneath his arm and his body unmoving.

Shit. Shit! Oh, dear, Merlin.

“Draco,” I said hurriedly, getting down on my knees with my hands shaking just above him. Do I touch him? Was he okay? Would I make it any worse?

“Eugh,” he muttered, rolling to his side as he tried to get up.

“Stop, you’ll just hurt yourself–”

“I don’t need your fucking help to get up–”

But then he collapsed and with inhumane strength I found myself pulling him up, my arm around his waist as I held him, supported, in some unknown hallway at the nest of a deserted staircase.

“Get your hands off me.”

“You’re welcome, Malfoy.”

“Back to Malfoy, are we?”

I decided to ignore him.

“You...you look awful...”

And he did.

He looked worse than Charlie when he caught the Wizard’s flu...

“I’m–” But Draco took that wonderful opportunity to sneeze. Again. And again. And yet...again.

“Yeah, obviously.”

I nearly laughed.

He was sick.

That was it...he was just sick.

I started walking slowly back up the stairs, supporting his body with my own and I couldn’t help but feel slightly warmer knowing it was him, beside me, leaning against me...

“Where are we going,” he muttered, sniffing his nose.

“Your room.”

“No!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with fear as he cranked his head to look at me. “We can’t go there, Parkinson is going to maul me again–”

“Okay, okay...”

Maul?

I felt surprisingly better.

“I’m taking you to the hospital wing,” I said, hoisting him slowly up the stairs. “We’re getting you some medicine.”

“I can’t,” he said, sniffing. “I have a patrol duty with Granger. And I don’t need Pompous Pomfrey to help me, either.”

“Well, you certainly need my help to get up these pathetic stairs–”

He stopped walking and he turned to glare at me, that cold gaze back in his eyes.

“I never needed you, Weasley.”

I swallowed.

“I never will. And I don’t now,” Draco said, his words hitching slightly.

It gave me a flare of hope...and a burst of unwelcomed courage.

“Then why did you follow me?” I asked. I noticed that I still had my arm around his waist and he still had one around my shoulders...and that he was still impossibly warm against my own body. I could feel him there, next to me, I could smell his musky, expensive scent...it was dawning on me just how much I liked this, how much I was hoping, praying, begging for...for something...

He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something but no words came out, and a look of confusion grew on his face before he muttered, “I didn’t want you spreading any rumors about Parkinson and me...if you must know, she heard I was sick and came gallivanting into my quarters, bent on curing me with...” Here he shuddered, which brought a smile to my face.

And we trudged onwards, without the burden of words.

That is, until we got to the door of the infirmary.

“Piss off, Weasley,” he muttered, one hand on the doorknob, one arm still around my shoulder.

What?

“Excuse me?” I hissed, unwinding my own arm from around his waist.

“Just piss off. You’ve gotten poor, stray Malfoy to the fucking infirmary. Your charity case is closed for the day. No more good deeds need escape.”

“What are you on?” He was staring at the infirmary door now, face expressionless and undeniably pale. “What the bleeding hell do you want from me, Malfoy?”

And that’s when I remembered.

He had bared his soul, and I had told him to fuck off.

I took a quick breath, remembering that I was supposed to hate him. That I had closed everything off, that I had made a mistake, that Malfoy didn’t have feelings or a soul or a beating heart or anything that he could even remotely offer me. I had seen him sweaty and sniffly and sneezing and I had forgotten everything, as if it had been as weightless as the tissue he was holding in his hand.

“What do I want from you? What the bleeding hell do I want from you?” And with this he closed his eyes, bent his head slightly towards the door, and emptily chuckled deep in his throat. The sight and the sound and the sudden burden of his arm on my shoulder scared me, in ways I couldn’t even begin to explain. “You should know, you fucking wench. All I wanted was that trophy of yours, a romp between the sheets...or did you forget?”

I swallowed.

He was gazing at me now, that piercing, calculating stare that caught my every motion, every thought, until I was trapped and never wanted to escape. I opened my mouth to retort, but was caught off guard by the sudden whiff of his scent as he leaned towards me and captured my lips with his. He plundered my mouth, holding my head tightly with his fingers, body pushed against mine with desperation–and then it was over. And then he had pushed me away from him, chest heaving, cheeks flushed, eyes as clear and bright and cold as I had ever seen them.

“I fucking hate you,” he hissed, his hand finding purchase once again on the doorknob.

I froze. Because right at that second, I realized something.

I loved him.

He was about to open the door when I felt my mouth forming words I still couldn’t understand.

“I fucking love you.”

I don’t know why I said it. I think I knew, somewhere, that his opening that door would close any entrance I had found to his heart. That his hand clenching that doorknob slowly but surely eased mine off whatever I had latched onto in his mind, in his dreams...

I saw his back clench, his shoulders tense, his eyes close and breath falter.

I couldn’t breathe. I could only clench my throat, swallow, wait...

And soon, soon enough, he raised his head. And before I knew what was happening he had me pinned against the wall, his hands furiously clenching my shoulders, his eyes gasping and his mouth growling.

“I fucking hate you,” he whispered again, his eyes searching my own. But instead of igniting anger, bitterness...my heart warmed, a little bit.

“I know,” I stated simply. And without any hesitation, my hands found themselves on his face, entwined in his hair. His eyes fluttered closed as he moved a little closer to my touch, his face following the cups of my hands, subconsciously sighing at their warmth.

He leaned into me then, his head nestling itself between my cheek and my shoulder, his nose nuzzling my neck. His arms had somehow found their way around my waist...and although this embrace had a touch of desperation, a tint of rough need...it also held something more. Comfort. The knowledge that he needed someone, needed me...and that I was here, in his arms.

“Draco,” I finally whispered, when I felt him shift in my arms.

And sneeze.

Again.

And again.

And...again.

“I’m catching a bleeding cold out here in this drafty hall,” he said, rubbing his nose on his sleeve. “It’s fucking freezing.”

But I couldn’t help and notice that his cheeks were flushed, and his eyes...that his eyes were almost smirking at me.

And then he grabbed my hand, his fingers entwining themselves between mine, before he placed his other hand on the doorknob and walked into the infirmary with me in tow.

When I walked back to the common room later, elation clear on my face, I saw Ron playing chess with Harry, the two of them on their stomachs. And then I saw Hermione’s head resting on Harry’s back, her hair splayed all over his robes while she read a thick, crusty book. She peered at me from over it, her eyes smiling, and I nodded.

Hermione always told anyone who would listen that it took her and Harry seven years to fall madly, desperately in love.

I always smile to myself when she says this, when those listening widen their eyes and coo, mentioning how romantic it was, how the best relationships are built from strong friendships.

I, on the other hand, always told anyone who would listen that it took Draco and I seven days to fall madly, desperately in love.

That a mere seven days later, we had gone out of our minds.

~-~-~-~-~-~

A/N: reviewing’s good for the soul...

Yet another one done! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone. I hope all of your wishes came true.