Sweet Misery

Disclaimer: I don’t own any of the Harry Potter characters, or anything related to them. If I did, I’d be rich, and possibly writing a novel rather than writing fan fictions. =D I also don’t own the song lyrics below; they belong to Michelle Branch, and they are from her song Desperately.

Author’s Note: My first try at D/G, guys, so go easy on me! I’ve spent all day working on this; I hope it’s to your liking. =) But if it isn’t, be gentle. Oh, and I almost forgot—this is a one-shot!

*****

Something 'bout the way you looked at me
Made me think for a moment,
That maybe we were meant to be
Living our lives separately
And it's strange that things change
But not me wanting you so desperately

*****

Sweet Misery

Her flaming red hair fluttered behind her as she swirled in her dance. Her eyes, apparently filled with joyous enjoyment, were only reflecting what her daydreams made her feel. Her body twirled and spun with ease and elegance, unable to reflect the mess she felt inside, deep in her heart. As Dean Thomas dipped her low to the ground, signaling the end of the dance, she smiled brilliantly and excused herself for a moment to use the loo. He hoisted her back up and released her, his hands trailing softly over her shoulders and lower back before he nodded and went to get something to drink. With a quick nod and another smile, she hurried off into the Entrance Hall, sprinted as fast as she could in her dress robes up the Grand Staircase, and burst through the doors of the lavatory in the first floor. She entered the first cubicle she found, and, finally alone, she sank to her knees and buried her face in her hands.

Her petite frame shook from her loud sobs, as small, pearly tears slid down her fair skin. She was used to this pain. It was an overwhelming feeling of rejection, over and over, that never once ceased to torment her. For five years she had felt this pain; for five years he had rejected her. And yet, she’d forgotten about him.

But she had never expected that when she finally moved on, the next person would be so wrong for her. She had never expected he would reject her as well, that he would be indifferent to her, and that he would treat her so cruelly.

But what could one expect of Draco Malfoy, anyway?

And here she was, on her sixth year, alone and miserable. Although she’d long since stopped feeling anything for Harry, the sight of him and Hermione happily dancing and laughing made her sick. Why was it that they could be so happy, and she was shunted to the side, cold and forgotten? As for Draco, he never ceased to make her miserable. And yet, sometimes it seemed he only encouraged her longing for him. Even more, after what happened three nights ago…

FLASHBACK –

Ginny fumbled for her watch inside her robe pocket, her breathing coming in low gasps. She had been strolling the halls, and she knew very well it was late, but she didn’t care anymore, honestly. House points and detentions could only cause so much deception and upsetting. There were far more important, pressing, painful matters.

She knew he was around here somewhere. Probably with Pansy, having some fun. Oh, she knew he wasn’t the type that would understand what she truly felt, but she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help feeling intrigued by his dark, brooding side, often hidden behind a veil of smugness and obnoxiousness. She couldn’t help wondering what laid beyond those guarded, cold eyes…the pain she knew he must feel, but was forced to hide. She had bizarre dreams of holding him in her arms and washing all that pain away, and then looking into his eyes and saying those three words…

‘I hate you’ she would say, ‘I can’t stop thinking about you, and I blame you, obviously, for that. I’m not sane anymore; I can’t breathe freely thanks to you. What have you done to me? Why am I so obsessed with what I am not to have? With someone that, clearly, doesn’t feel anything close to this…this misery?’

The sound of his cold voice broke the silence, startling her, “Weasley? What are you doing out so late?”

She turned sharply, glaring at him instinctively, “I’m walking, as you can see,” she said stiffly, crossing her arms, more as a means to make herself feel less uncomfortable rather than to intimidate him.

“It’s late,”

She held up her watch, “So I’ve noticed,”

He raised an eyebrow, taking several steps towards her, until he was almost a hands breath away. His gray eyes, cold as ice, were locked on her soft, brown ones. She stared back at him, bewilderment evident, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. She was completely taken by surprise when he raised his hand and pushed back a lock of her red hair from her face. His fingers grazed her skin as he did so, sending involuntary shivers down her spine.

“Slytherins roam these halls in particular, you know. If one were to catch you, I’m sure they’d feel no remorse in hurting you,” he said casually, his eyes glinting.

Ginny closed her eyes for a split second, wanting to let herself give in to his touch. She drew a soft breath as she opened her eyes, regaining her composure. She smirked up at him, “You’re a Slytherin,” she said, “and you’re not doing anything to me,”

He said nothing, and a few moments of awkward silence passed. Abruptly, however, his hands snapped up to grab her arms, and he took advantage of her shock to steer her against a wall beside them. Holding a firm grip on her arms, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Never trust a Slytherin,” he had a mocking tone to his voice, and his tantalizing breath on her ear made her shiver again. She shut her eyes, feeling pain rise up in her. She desperately wanted him to let go of her arms so she could explore his body, feel him even closer to her, but she knew that could never come to pass. He was doing this to torment her with what she would never have, to make her feel lower than dirt. She would never admit it to him that he was succeeding. She would not say anything that might make him feel triumphant.

She would hide the truth about how this made her feel, how his touch on her arms made her feel, and how his voice in her ear, ever so low, affected her.

He pulled back, cold eyes locked on hers again, which were stinging, as if she were near tears. She fought them back, at least until she was out of his sight.

“You disgusting prat,” she spat, releasing herself from his grip and storming in the direction of the Gryffindor Common Room.

The only sound was that of her footsteps and his cold laughter echoing off the walls.

END FLASHBACK –

Ginny ran her hands through her hair, frustration taking over her. She didn’t know when this had all started, but she desperately wanted to find out. Find out how, just how, she had gotten herself in this.

She vaguely remembered it dating back to her fifth year. She’d gotten over Harry, and her newfound confidence over this led her to be more open with people. She dated Dean Thomas, but she always knew, despite the fact that he seemed crazy for her, that he wasn’t what she was looking for. There was something missing. There was no passion, no love. When she was with him, even now, she never felt at ease. She felt a small part of her, empty as ever, blindly reaching out for someone that could ease her hollowness.

And that’s when Malfoy had come in. Somewhere last year, she’d began to notice him more. Her gaze wandered from Dean to the Slytherin table, to a person that had always rejected her, that had never expressed any interest in her. And yet, she was intrigued. She wanted to know who he really was, what he wanted and what he was like. She’d realized that she’d always seen him the way Harry saw him, and that she’d never cared to know more. What could those cold, narrowed eyes be hiding?

She snorted self-depreciatingly. How could she have ever thought there was more to Draco Malfoy?

She stood up, smoothing her pale white dress robes. She exited the cubicle, and looked in the mirror. Her mascara had watered as she cried, and had run down her cheeks, leaving fine black trail. Her eyes were red and swollen, as they always were when she cried. If she spent more than a minute crying, they’d stay like that for ages unless she charmed them to normal.

So, she pulled out her wand and casted a few spells here and there until she looked like nothing was wrong. She smiled at herself in the mirror, marveling at how easy it was to appear completely composed when inside she was an utter mess.

She walked out of the lavatories and rushed back to the ball, hoping for dear Merlin that Dean hadn’t noticed her prolonged absence. She mad it to the Great hall, her brisk run turning into a calm walk abruptly, and she caught sight of Dean talking with Lavender, who was flirting incessantly. She rolled her eyes to herself, shaking her head. He was falling for it, too, smiling.

Still, better he be with her, who clearly likes him, than me.

Ginny sighed and turned back to look at the dancing couples, all of whom looked completely content and as though they were enjoying themselves. Harry and Hermione, pressed closely together, eyes locked on each other…Ron and, well, no one, really, but he still looked like he was having fun…Luna was dancing with another Ravenclaw boy, throwing odd, dreamy looks in Ron’s direction…Pansy was dancing with…ugh, Crabbe.

At the sight of Pansy, she wondered where Draco was. He always went with Pansy to this sort of things, after all. Ginny was filled with an intense curiosity, wondering whether he’d come with another Slytherin girl. Or maybe he was alone…

Oh, please. I’m stronger than this. Who cares if he came with someone else or not? I am not going to think about him anymore…

I have to distract myself.

She made her way to a table and sat down, conjuring a drink and sipping from it as she observed her surroundings. In less than a minute, she saw a hand waving to her from the crowd, and Hermione emerged, looking flushed but happy, a delirious grin on her face.

“Hi, Ginny,” she said cheerily, flopping down onto a chair beside her, “Where’s Dean?”

Ginny shrugged, “I don’t know. Off snogging with Lavender, probably,”

Hermione’s eyes widened, “What? But aren’t you two dating?” Ginny shrugged again, her eyes involuntarily scanning the crowd for Malfoy, and Hermione made a noise of incredulousness, “Gin, what’s wrong? You act as if you don’t care,”

“Maybe…maybe I don’t anymore. Maybe I realized that we just weren’t meant to be like that, Hermione,” Ginny said quietly, taking a sip from her drink.

Hermione’s eyes flashed with concern, and she edged closer to Ginny, placing her hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture, “Are you sure you’re okay? I just…you seem upset. If it’s not Dean that bothers you, then what?”

Ginny gave her a small smile, “Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies, Hermione,” she said, echoing Fred and George. She pushed her hair back from her face, that simple movement immediately reminding her of the other night, when Malfoy had caught her in the hall, and her smile faded slightly.

“Ginny—“

“Hermione, there are things I just keep to myself, and I’m sure you can relate. What’s bothering me…it’s something only I can solve, that only I understand,” she paused, her eyes darting to the doors of the entrance hall, where Draco Malfoy’s lone figure stood, mouth curled in a sneer. Wearing silk robes of a dark green with fine silver trimmings on the sleeves, he walked inside, throwing disdainful looks at most people. As he walked over for a table to sit, his eyes locked on Ginny’s, who was staring, transfixed, at him, eyes round and glassy. He smirked and sat down, his back to her.

Ginny swallowed with difficulty, “I’ll figure it out myself,” she sputtered, hoping Hermione didn’t notice where her gaze traveled.

“Oh, honestly, Gin,” Hermione sighed, “I’m worried about you,”

“Leave it, Hermione. I’m fine,” Ginny snapped, and Hermione fell silent. Shortly after, Harry came back for her, mumbling something about Luna wanting to dance with him. Hermione laughed and they linked hands, making their way through the crowd to the door, apparently heading towards the Grounds.

Ginny leant back on her chair, sitting her drink with an air of moodiness. She was uncertain as to what she felt for Draco. She was attracted to him, yes, but not in the usual way she felt attracted to guys. She wasn’t actually lusting after him. It was different with him.

She didn’t love him, of course. She hardly knew him.

But it was something along the lines of…curiosity? Pity, maybe, because she knew he had to hide his emotions?

No, none of those words seemed to describe what she felt. It was strange, that was for sure. Something unknown to her, something that drew her to him without any explanation, and she felt she wouldn’t be able to cope with it any longer. She wanted to give in, to fall into his arms, into his attempts to torment her, but something always held her back. Her stubbornness never let her give in, and she partly thanked herself for that. There would always be something to hold her back, because she very well knew that they couldn’t ever work out.

But how she wished they could…how she wished she could let herself take a chance and fall into the unknown, into the darkness.

“Oy, Gin!”

Ron’s voice broke into her thoughts. She blinked, surprised to find him standing in front of her, holding his hand out expectantly. She frowned, “What?”

“Hermione wants me to dance with you,”

Ginny smirked as she took his hand, “How subtle, Ron. It’s so nice that you can keep things to yourself,” she got to her feet in a swift movement and led Ron to the dance floor, thankful for something to keep her mind off Malfoy. When dancing with Ron, you really had to concentrate on keeping your feet safe rather than anything else, after all.

Ron gave her a bemused look and shrugged, “She says you’re upset, too. What’s wrong?”

Ginny ignored his question, instead turning to him and quickly beginning to dance. Ron had no option but to follow her in the dance, disentangling his feet and clumsily moving around. Ginny laughed at this, watching as he struggled to keep up with her.

“Gin, don’t avoid it,” Ron said suddenly, fixing her with a serious stare, “What are you upset about?”

Ginny met his eyes, regretting it as he treaded on her foot, “Ouch!” she hissed, “Watch your step, Ron! And I’m fine, I don’t know what you’re on about,”

Ron spun her around, barely managing to keep her from colliding with someone, “I’m not thick, Gin. D’you think I haven’t noticed the way you’ve been acting lately?”

Ginny glared at him, purposefully stepping on his foot, “I’m not acting any different,”

Ron winced as her foot made contact with his, but didn’t comment, “Is it about Dean?” he demanded, feeling a surge of rage at the thought that Dean might have hurt her.

Ginny sighed loudly, letting go of him and stepping back, “Why does everyone assume I’m crying my eyes out over him?” she hissed, “Listen, I’ll grant you, it’s because of someone that I’m upset, but it most certainly isn’t about Dean!” Her face had gained a red tinge, the usual sign of tension in the Weasleys. She gave Ron one last withering look before dashing off in the direction of the doors.

Forget this. Why did I even come here? I’m going to bed…

“Weasley!”

A shiver ran down her spine. Why was it that only he could do that to her? She turned slowly, eyes fixed on his towering figure. He took a few steps towards her, and extended his arm out.

“You haven’t danced with me,”

Ginny gave him an incredulous look, a blush creeping to her cheeks, “I never agreed to,” she said coolly.

Draco smirked, “Well, now I’m asking you,” Ginny looked up into his eyes, and saw, not the usual disdain, but something else. They were softer, somehow. There wasn’t any sharpness or anger to them. It was almost as if he was pleading her to dance with him.

“I…” Ginny trailed off, his touch on her hand numbing her, ridding her of any feeling or any thought, as he gently steered her to the dance floor. He gently took her other hand and pulled her towards him as the slow tune played, their bodies moving almost by themselves, eyes boring into each others’. Oblivious to the shocked looks they were getting, they moved softly in synch with the music, Ginny’s hands releasing Draco’s and twining themselves around his neck. As Draco lowered his hands to her waist, however, Ginny began to see through the fog in her mind.

Wow, he smells nice…mmm…this is actually not so bad. Why had I been avoiding this again?

Wait a minute, what if he’s just toying with my feelings again? How do I know he’s not doing this for the sole purpose of causing me pain?

Oh, Merlin is that his hand on my waist? I think I’m going to die…

That what he wants! He doesn’t love me and he never will. He doesn’t understand…he doesn’t understand what I feel for him. Not even I do…I’m here in his arms right now, everything I wanted right here, and I’m still filled with this doubt.

Oh, bollocks! Let go of me! Let go…let me go!

Ginny began to wriggle in his arms, letting go of him and forcibly wrenching herself away from him. She looked up at him, tears in her round brown eyes, managing a feeble scowl. He looked down at her, visibly confused, until she emitted a loud huff and made a run for the door again, this time managing to tug it open and exit without any interruptions.

She walked up the Grand Staircase, tears falling freely from her eyes, until she heard footsteps behind her. Fully expecting to see Ron there, she turned, ready to tell him that she needed some time alone and that she was fine, when she found it wasn’t Ron.

“Merlin, Malfoy, what do you want from me?” she sighed exasperatedly, tired of playing this game for so long. She was ready to give in, to confront him and maybe reach an agreement. She couldn’t deal with this anymore.

“Why are you so bloody upset?”

“Why are you dancing with me? And why are you cornering me in the halls at night, whispering in my ear? Why do you give me that knowing smirk when we see each other? Why did I catch you touching my hair the other day? I’m tired of this...this charade, Malfoy,” Ginny blurted out, letting the words escape freely from her.

Draco remained silent for a few moments, before he gave her an incredulous look, “Why do you think, Weasley? Ginny, I mean,” he added, his eyes locking on hers, “It’s obviously not because I hate you,”

Ginny crossed her arms, feeling dizzy all of a sudden. Was Draco Malfoy admitting that he fancied her? “Do you fancy me?” she asked quietly.

“You could put it that way, I suppose,”

“Then why can’t you court me like normal guys do? You’ve been driving me insane for the past few weeks! I can’t breathe; I can’t sleep anymore without you in my thoughts. I’m tired of being uncertain!” Ginny snapped, her hands coming to rest at her hips, eyes narrowed.

Draco scowled, “There’s just no way to please you, is there? Listen, Weasley—I mean Ginny—I don’t work that way. I thought women liked mysterious types, anyway,” he added, and Ginny was momentarily surprised. Was that meant to be a joke?

No, she decided. He looked all too serious, with his eyes narrowed, tension written all over them, “I can’t do this,” she murmured quietly, shoulders drooping, “I can’t…you’re just too complicated! All his time I thought this was an elaborate scheme to make me miserable. You’re not really sending out the right signals by scaring me half to death in a dark corridor,”

“What do you want me to do? I am not the roses-and-candy type. Maybe I had you all wrong, Weasley. If you’re looking for a fairy tale, go back to Potter,” Draco snarled viciously.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed even more, and before she could help it, the words were out of her mouth, “I hate you! You bloody, insufferable prick!” She paused, glowering at him, and continued, “You made my life a living hell for the past few weeks, baiting me with what I thought I could not have, getting ridiculous notions of a romance with you in my head, and making me think there was more to you. But there’s nothing more, Malfoy, nothing more than a hateful, inconsiderate git!”

She turned sharply on her heel and broke into a run towards the Gryffindor common room, knowing that when he got over the shock of what she’d said, he’d come after her again. But this time she expected it. She fumbled for her wand, which she had charmed to the inside of her sleeve, and mentally readied herself to use it.

But the minutes went by, and he never came. Slowly, she began to feel more relaxed, and what he said came down on her.

He fancies me?!

Ginny stopped dead in her tracks.

This was what she had been looking for, wasn’t it? She had wanted a deeper insight of him, a glance into the person that laid within. And now, when she’d had it for a few moments, she’d ruined it with doubts and worries.

But she couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help thinking they were too different, too volatile to be with each other.

“…Maybe I had you all wrong, Weasley. If you’re looking for a fairy tale, go back to Potter,”

His words echoed in her head, making her wonder. Love wasn’t always like the love Harry and Hermione had, where they just clicked from the start. Sometimes, love was unexpected, unpredictable, and things weren’t okay from the start. Sometimes, people were completely different from each other, to a point where the only thing they shared in common was their attraction. And a thirst for freedom. And, maybe, just maybe, an insecure feeling about things, never knowing whether their next move would condemn them or not.

And most times, an attraction needed time to grow into something deeper. People needed time to adjust to their new way of life, to the person that they were with, and the way they were.

Love didn’t just appear out of nowhere.

And she couldn’t expect him to act in a way that clearly wasn’t him. She couldn’t expect him to lavish her with flowers and compliments. This was Malfoy.

And yet, his acting could mean something good for her. If he was so insecure about the way he should court her, then that might mean he was feeling something different, too. Something new for him. Maybe, just maybe, he knew that what he felt was more than an attraction.

With these thoughts in mind, she turned on her heel and made her way back to the Grand Staircase, hoping he was still there. She found him sitting on the topmost stair, staring at the large door leading to the grounds with a faraway look on his face.

“Malfoy,” she said softly.

He turned his head sharply towards her, surprise evident in his eyes, though he didn’t say anything. He looked into her eyes for a fleeting second before turning back to his contemplation of the door, “Go away, Weasley,”

She sighed, “I didn’t mean what I said,”

He remained silent, determinedly looking anywhere but her.

“I’m willing to work at it, if you are,” she said quietly, taking a few steps closer to him. She sat down beside him, crossing her legs at the ankles and looking down at the floor, anywhere but him.

“We can’t have anything, Weasley, you said it yourself,”

Ginny shook her head, “I wasn’t thinking when I said that! Please, Malfoy, I just…I can’t just forget about this and never wonder what we could have been,”

“So this is all an experiment for you? Face it, Weasley. We’re not meant to be together,”

Hearing those words out of his mouth caused Ginny to feel her own doubt kicking in, a pain weighing down her hear and making her breathing troublesome. Her eyes blurred with tears, overflowing…they ran down her cheek, cold and painful, each one.

They reminded her of her loneliness, her own pain and hopelessness.

She sobbed. She couldn’t really help it. She felt his gaze on her, watching her, boring a hole in her. And then, she felt his touch on her cheek, wiping away a single tear.

She stiffened, feeling him coming closer, and pulled away. She looked down on him, tears pouring down her cheeks, and she affixed him with a cold stare, “No. Don’t touch me. I’m not going to do this, Malfoy. I’m not going to wait on you forever while you keep changing your mind. So, as much as it pains me to say this, I think we should just…forget about each other,”

Draco stared back at her, his hand outstretched in midair, where it had been when he’d wiped the tear off her cheek. He seemed dumbstruck. But then, he managed a smirk, “Fine,”

Ginny had thought her heart could sink no lower, but at his words, she felt as if she were being ripped apart, “Fine,” she managed, before turning on her heel again and walking swiftly away from him.

She couldn’t help looking back at where he had been. And neither could he, turned, looking intently as she retreated.

As their eyes locked, they both knew they wouldn’t be able to do what they’d just agreed to do.

Draco stood up tentatively, and began walking towards her. Ginny took a few hesitant steps towards him as well, wondering if she was doing the right thing.

They continued walking towards each other calmly, until they were barely a few feet apart. Ginny outstretched her arms, locking them around his neck and pulling herself towards him. Draco wrapped his arms around her, inhaling deeply, letting her soft scent wash over him. They remained like that, in each other’s arms, for a few minutes, before they pulled back and gazed at each other breathlessly. Slowly, they began to move their heads closer, until they were barely apart. But just as Ginny expected their lips to touch, she felt his breath on her ear.

“Never trust a Slytherin, Weasley,” he whispered softly. She smiled, and leaned in to whisper in his ear as well.

“I’ll take my chances with you, Malfoy,” she said, lips grazing his skin as she spoke.

Draco began creating a trail of kisses along her jaw line, until he reached hr lips. Their first kiss was soft, innocent, barely a touch of the lips. Draco pressed his lips harder to hers, her soft smile against his lips encouraging him. Her lips parted slightly, and he traced the outside of her lower lip with the tip of his tongue. She intercepted it quickly, and their kiss deepened considerably.

It became steadily more passionate, harder to stop.

***

Harry and Hermione came into the Great hall with pleased, tired looks on their faces. After a good snogging session, they had no more energy to dance, so they decided they would instead head up to the common room and go to sleep early. They ascended the steps of the Grand Staircase, Harry’s hand draped over Hermione’s shoulders, and took the usual way to Gryffindor tower.

A shadow near the middle of the passage caught their eye.

It was…two people. And they were apparently having a bit of a snog. Harry smirked. Dances at Hogwarts truly meant something entirely different when you had someone to be with.

Hermione pursed her lips, “This is outrageous, honestly! You’d think they’d have the decency to go outside and conceal themselves, but no…I’m taking House Points for this,”

Before Harry could stop her, she was walking swiftly towards the couple, her lavender dress robes billowing behind her. He hastened his step behind her, too, trying to catch up with her and persuade her not go too hard on them.

But when she stopped dead in her tracks, he collided heavily with her, and she emitted a loud shriek of surprise. The couple pried themselves apart and whirled to face them, shocked.

Harry just…stared, as did Hermione, whose eyes were wide and her mouth was open.

Harry surveyed Ginny’s flushed face and her messy hair, his eyes then traveling to Malfoy, whose light-blonde hair was slightly ruffled, his face also flushed, and was unable to contain his foremost thought from pouring out of his mouth, “Someone sure got over Dean,” he said in a low voice, and Hermione elbowed him hard on the ribs, giving him a glowering look.

Ginny and Draco glanced at each other, exchanging an amused look at the expression on Harry and Hermione’s faces. Wordlessly, they began walking way from each other, Draco in the direction of the Grand Staircase and Ginny in the direction of the stairs to the second floor.

They looked back only once, and they both knew they had found what they’d been looking for.

FIN --