And It's So Cold That It Burns
TruthbeTold
I can still feel them on my neck, my shoulders, my cheeks, and lips. He loves that he does that to me. That when his cool lips touch me I go rigid and my whole body goes numb to anything, but him. Then I melt into him, fold into his embrace like warm velvet. He'll hesitate, but then watches bemused as I shiver with something that I've never quite understood when his hands pass over me. He loves that I'm burning and freezing at the same time.
I meet his cool gray eyes from across the Great Hall and they're anything, but cool. They smolder and burn so bad that I freeze, but on the inside a fire is kindled within the pit of my stomach and it licks at my insides. A sincere feeling of longing bursts in my chest. I want to be with him now, anywhere, alone, with him. I feel them again; the scorching marks were his cold lips last kissed, the burning trails, where his icy fingers last traced.
I pull at my collar with a shaking hand, fiddle with the top button, and bite my lip. All the while, my eyes never leave his and I still stare into the fiery frost dusted depths. The roaring flames inside me grow higher and my heart burns to be with him, right now, anywhere with him. I see him, as he laughs to himself, amused no doubt, at the obvious effect he has over me. His laughter stops short however when the first button of my blouse comes undone and my hand covers the spot on my neck where his lips marked me. His jaw goes slack, his easy demeanor is replaced with rapt attention and he sits up for a second before his cool and collected demeanor is replaced with rapt attention and he sits up for a second before his cool and collected facade slides back in to its usual place. He raises an eyebrow at my smirk. It is my turn to be amused at the power I have over him. He gives me a curt nod and his pewter eyes dart towards the door. I wait a minute, looking around for anyone who might be watching our exchange of silent signals. No on is. My eyes find his waiting ones. I nod. He leans back in his chair. TEN MINUTES. He drops his napkin to the left side of his gold plate. THIRD FLOOR CORRIDOR. He stands up, but his eyes send me one last signal. I'LL BE WAITING FOR YOU. I look down at my own plate as he sweeps out of the Great Hall, cloak billowing out behind him and the sweltering sense of longing fills me again.
Ten minutes begin to inch away, ten torturous minutes of eternity. My mind is scrambling, jumbled with a million thoughts, a million wants, a million needs, as I pretend to eat. I laugh falsely at a joke my brother is telling. Five minutes have crept by. I swear my watch is going slow just to punish me for this secret we've kept so well hidden from everyone. I drain my pumpkin juice, knowing full well I'll forget it's and any other taste in only a short time. At last my vengeful watch has reached a quarter to nine and I stand to go. It takes all the power within me not to run as fast as I can. With a calm that surprises me I say a soft goodnight to my brother, Harry, and Hermione and walked slowly to the doors. Once out of sight of the Great Hall, I break into a run all the way up the Grand Staircase to the second to floor, where I take every shortcut to the Third Floor Corridor that Fred and George ever taught me. I reach the great wooden door that blocks the entrance to abandoned hall. I pull out my wand and with a whispered alohamora and the door swings back with an ancient whining creak. I step in and the door shuts behind me with a slam as if it is was aggravated at being disturbed. I am now enveloped in inky blackness. I don't bother to light my wand, but rather wait for my eyes to adjust before walking as quietly as I can towards the very end of the hall. While I tread softly I think of how unlikely our relationship is. If someone had told me a year ago that I, Ginny Weasley would fall in love with Draco Malfoy, the enemy of my family, I would have laughed in their face and told them to get their head checked. But I did, and I am in love with him. We meet like this almost every night. We hide it, but we aren't ashamed. We like the seclusion of just us and the secret enjoyment of deceiving those who believe they know us so well into thinking the Malfoy-Weasley family feud will last till the earth falls asunder. My thoughts are broken, however; when I am grabbed by the front of my robes and yanked into and empty classroom. He unfastens the cloak about my shoulders and it pools in black at my feet. The heat of the material leaves me and the cold snatches at me through my thin white blouse. The warmth is replaced quickly when he wraps his arms around me possessively and backs me against the door. He stares down at me.
"That was the ten longest minutes in history." He growls sincerely, capturing a lock of my red wine hair and twisting it around one of his fingers. I laugh and feel his breath catch in his chest.
"I wish I could make you do that more often," he murmurs in my ear and I feel the fire within me again. I laugh again at his uncanny sweetness. His piercing melting steel eyes are looking directly at me as if seeing everything on the inside of my mind. I recognize the look; he tells me he loves with this look. He never has to say it, he has, but he never had to. From this one look, I know exactly how he feels. He allows my strand of hair to fall, then tucks it behind my ear. His hand brushes my cheek and I automatically lean into his touch. He smiles softly and cups my face in his hands. He bends down and captures my lips with his own. Fire spreads to every inch of my body as I feel his body press against mine. My hands tangle in his silk hair as his fingers burn their way over my stomach and the small of my back. He opens my mouth and his taste floods my senses. I could live on the sustenance of his kiss for eons. We are in our hazed nirvana for but a few minutes when we pull apart reluctantly. Breathing is an awful habit. He rains cool kisses on my face and pushes my collar aside to press his lips to my neck and shoulders tenderly.
I survey him with heavy lidded eyes as he continues to caress my skin with burning ice-laden strokes of his fingers. His normally pristine hair is out of place and the flaxen strands fall at angles into his eyes. I love it when he looks like this. I think about how I am now. His tender touch and heated kisses me. I burn up at the very thought of him. Yet, I'm frozen here in this spot. Time's frozen. My mind's frozen on the one thought of him. So, I never melt away or freeze entirely, but I'm kept in between, toeing the line between the two. An hour passes and I finally pull away from the soft whisper of his lips on my skin and the tickle of his breath on my neck. As I turn to go he reaches out and grabs my wrist.
"Gin, stay. Just a little while longer, please." He asks. And I do, but his hand remains around my wrist as I
curl into his arms. And it's so cold that it burns and it burns so bad that I freeze, but I love it.
AN/ This one's for Kristen cuz you're the best friend in the world and I haven't finished your other ones (yes plural) yet. Lots of love. C.B.