Frozen Fire Chapter Two
Draco grinned with pleasure, watching as her eyes swam with shame, as she turned her head to the floor. Her hair lay limp about her face, her legs shaking wobbly. He felt a spurt of joy.
"Don't, just don't…" she trailed off quietly as she ran her hands up and down her arms as if to warm them. She's shivering? Draco asked himself as her meek face remained looking at the floor, her eyes not even daring to cross his shoes.
"Don't what, call you by your name? Then what do you suggest I call you?" he spat with annoyance; this was nothing like he planned their next meeting would be. She was immeasurably disappointing; her lack of spirit was irksome. She was certainly not the girl he had run into years ago. No, this had to be an impostor.
"Whatever you like, it doesn't matter to me," she sighed, turning her head up to him. "All I know is I'm not Ginevra Molly Weasley anymore," her doe brown eyes stared past his face, glazing over with tears. The liquid ran down her face, tracing a path amongst her freckles.
What is she doing? Why is she bloody crying? She should be glad not to be a Weasley anymore, shouldn't she? I know I damn well would be. Draco didn't understand, then again, she did not expect him to. Nor did he understand why she wouldn't look at him.
"Look at me dammit!" he cursed, forcefully pulling her chin up so her eyes would look into his own, but she closed them. A pang of frustration shot through his bones. She isn't worth this; I don't know what he sees in her! But Draco never did see what the Dark Lord saw in Ginny, past or present.
"No, that is one thing I won't do. I will not look at you, not you or him. Not after what you both did to me," she snapped, pulling her head from his grip, turning it to one of the gravestones. Draco was stunned speechless… What in Merlin's name did I ever do to her?
"If you need to reach me," she began, pulling out her wand, "I'll be here." A sharp bang indicated a piece of paper flowing out of the tip of her wand. On it was her address. She let it flutter to her feet before disappearing with a soft `pop'.
Draco reached down, touching the paper. He recoiled upon the hot shot of pain that flew through his arm. She had cursed it; he knew it. Charming the piece of paper into his pocket, he disappeared as well.
Inside the main hall of Malfoy manor Draco stood in the doorway, both doors flung open behind them. His mother appeared at the top of their grand staircase as soon as the door opened. She slowly came to him. She was a vision of cold beauty as she cascaded down the steps from the upper floor to the main foyer. Her blue dress trailed the steps behind her. The low neckline of the dress allowed her to wear an extravagant piece of silver and sapphire. Everything complimented her eyes nicely. Her hair was pulled up in a tight bun, pulling her face back slightly. It added to the look of seriousness that she often wore. Upon reaching him, she kissed him coldly on both cheeks.
Once the two rather large doors of the main entrance had been closed by their butler, he began walking down the hall, his mother following, dutifully, waiting for a snippet of information from the meeting. He had always given her updates in the past, just as his father had after he had forbidden her from attending meetings. It was for her own safety, he had said. Draco, however, didn't seem to notice her trailing behind him. The only thing he heard, apart from his footsteps, was Ginny's voice ringing with anger, accusing him of something he had no idea of.
The fact that he had done something to Ginny Weasley didn't bother him. In fact, it slightly delighted him. He was more interested in the fact that he didn't know what he had done. Surely name calling from their childhood and things of the like were ruled out because nothing of that nature could derive such a hate to not look into his eyes. No, that couldn't have been it. He hadn't killed any Weasleys, no matter how many times he had asked for the job. No, that couldn't have been it. What could it have been? He had to know… so he could do it again and use it to control her.
His eyes closed in thought. He was not afraid of tripping or missing a step, he knew the manor inside out, it was as if it was part of him, and he knew every bit of himself, or so he thought. Narcissa had halted once they entered the parlor, tired of following him. She had seated herself on a high-backed chair and watched him from her perch as he approached the hallway, unsure if he had forgotten their ritual.
She cleared her throat loudly, her big blue eyes opening wide with indignation. Draco promptly halted. He turned abruptly on his heel. A small smile was playing at the corner of his lips. No one was better to strategize with than Narcissa Malfoy. Surely she could provide him with an answer as to what to do with Ginny Weasley.
"The meeting was quite vexing. I've been assigned to train the Weasley girl."
"The Weasley girl?" she asked, her eyes narrowing in contemplation so that she looked like a hawk. Realization lighted her face moments later. "Very curious…" She folded her hands in her lap, looking at him as if she was expecting him to say more.
"Yes, I thought so." Draco treaded over to a chair next to his mothers and seated himself down. "I'm glad you think so too. Though, I fear the Dark Lord cannot see that she's weak and useless."
Narcissa's blue eyes looked up from under her eyelids, her light lashes making her look more intense. "I wouldn't exactly say that. She's quite a tool, Draco. Quite a tool."
Draco's eyebrow cocked. "What do you mean, mother?"
She laughed lightly, the sugary sound echoing off the walls. When the sound died, it made the room seem emptier than it had previously been. "My son. Do not let certain facts escape you. I did not raise you to be an imbecile. She is a key to both sides. She is the lucky charm of these wars we fight. She lingered in limbo when she ran away from responsibility and so did triumph. She disappeared and the fighting followed after her. Now that she has resurfaced, by your side, she will end things. Whether she knows it or not,"
His mothers words of Ginny running away lingered for a moment in Draco's head. Coming back to reality, he turned and looked curiously at his mother. "My side?"
She waved her hand impatiently in the air. "Yes, your side," she snapped harshly, making him wince. "You do not see the Dark Lord training her or watching her every step, do you? No. It is you."
Looking for anything to change the conversation, he referred back to what had lingered in his head. "What makes you so sure she ran away, anyway?"
"Well, it's completely plausible that Potter banished her. But she is not as strong as to face him after what she did," Once finished speaking, she exited the room swiftly. Apparently she was displeased at the small amount of information he had provided her with.
Not wishing to further the conversation, Draco stalked off in the other direction to his study. His mother was not one to talk to when she was in a testy mood. He also was not one to pry. He was above that.
Draco soon found himself in the study, sitting at his desk. A quill sat in his hands, a piece of parchment next to him on the oak desk. He didn't know whom he wanted to write to, not even bothering with the small detail of what he wanted to write. All he knew was that he had been drawn to take the penning items out as soon as he sat down in his father's old dragon-hide chair. Letting the quill drop quietly onto the desk, he leaned backwards, folding his hands behind his head.
It was an odd situation he had managed to get himself into. Being tour guide for the Dark Lord's prize wasn't a position he normally filled, but then again she needed someone to show her what it was like. What he couldn't understand was why he was chosen. Why not someone else? There were plenty of other people who were more, or less as this situation called for, qualified. He could have even assigned another traitorous Gryffindor to lead her around like a pathetic dog on a leash. Finnegan, for example, would have been perfect for her.
Perhaps he was chosen because he was the best. Surely the Dark Lord's prize deserved the best. Yes, that had to be it. He tried to take it as a compliment, even though it was quite hard. The best minion should be doing real jobs, not babysitting some wench.
She wasn't even spicy anymore. She was more like dead fruit which had shriveled up from lack of sunlight. This girl, no woman, wouldn't be of any use to his master. Not unless he wanted lustful pleasure, but Draco would not bring himself to imagine such a feat.
She was so old, but young at the same time. Her looks had aged, but she still very much acted like a child. One who was longing to go out to play, but had to stay inside because they had a cold. She was so delicate, but rough. Cold but warm. Draco couldn't describe her; she was too deep and controversial to really understand. One moment she would be one thing, but in a matter of seconds would change to the exact opposite.
Only one thing seemed to trigger the change in emotions. It was the simple thought, glance or even mention of himself or his master. Draco's stomach churned uncontrollably, a feeling he had never felt before settling in the pits of his stomach. Seeing her would be the only answer. He closed out his eyes and took out his wand, disappearing from the study.
When Draco opened his eyes, he was standing in front of what seemed to be an abandoned flat. He reluctantly let his eyes take in the moldy wooden planks, which was the only lining of the building, cool gusts of air swimming between the cracks. He slightly shivered, staring down at the floor.
Pieces of litter lined the edges where the wall met the ground, loose wrappers flying back and forth with the wind, not really getting a chance to settle in any particular spot. Their scampering about the floor gave the illusion that they didn't know where they belonged, which seemed to go along with the building. It seemed as if it didn't belong anywhere itself. He wouldn't be surprised if it was a drifter.
Looking up at the rusted number atop the door, he made sure that it was the correct building. Not even bothering to knock, he strode inside the darkened place. There were no candles to illuminate the room, no Muggle light switches to turn on, not even a dash of moonlight could be seen through the curtains. The only word that could describe the flat was dark.
Suddenly a lamp clicked on; light flooding the face of the particular redhead he was responsible for. Her mouth curved into a cruel grin, her eyes lingering upon his chest. Her inability to look him in the eye angered him, but he suppressed it, stepping towards her.
"Couldn't just bugger off, could you?" she asked tartly, wrapping her silky black robe tight against her body as an action to occupy her hands more than anything else. She was unfazed by the cold that loomed about her entire flat.
"Hello my little Diable," he sneered, stepping closer to her. He saw her shake in her chair, but her face seemed determined.
Her eyes narrowed to slits, staring daggers into his designer made shoes. "What did you call me?" He didn't respond, only took another step nearer to her. She stood up, her back rigid like a hissing cat. "Get out of my house," she ordered, pointing her finger towards the door.
He was slowly circling her, his body moving closer to hers the entire time. She could feel his eyes digging into her skull. It was as if he was trying to scorch her with his gaze, punishing her for not returning his hateful glare. She left her eyes staring into the tops of his shoes as her response. "I told you to get out…" she murmured, her voice staying monotone, but dropping its severity. Draco grimaced.
"Am I making you nervous? Provoking something that has laid dormant in you for a long time?" he spat, his face twisting into something truly horrible. "And you don't want it to come out, you little Diable, do you?" he finished, his cold gray eyes twinkling with their own laughter. She shuddered as his hard grip crashed upon her tiny shoulders, his hold digging deep past her skin, bruising her bone.
That's when he violently shook her for a response, pushing her against the wall so that her body was either going to be crushed by him or the wooden boards. She let out a tiny whimper of anguish, her body's reaction to the pain. Although pain was not new to her, this seemed to be crueler than anything else she had been subjected to.
"Speak, my little devil, surely you have some venom to spit, some wrath to leash out. Something, just anything. You are not dead... I know it. My enemy lies dormant inside you; the part of you that wants to look in my eyes and slap me is fighting to get out. I can see it in those eyes!" Draco raved like a madman.
He pushed his body against her, pinning her down harder. Releasing his tight grip from her body, he pulled her head up, holding her eyelids open. He was forcing her to look him in the eye. She made her eyes dart to the sides so she could still avoid him.
"You don't want me to look at you," she hissed, emotion skating around the edges of her voice.
Draco sneered with triumph. "Yes, I think I do." When she didn't move, he continued. "Don't worry, my eyes aren't like Potter's, they won't look at you with disappointment or sorrow. They will only offer you the emotion you can handle, hatred."
"Your eyes will never be like Harry's! Don't you EVER compare yourself to him!" her eyes grew wide, her breath becoming fast and uneven. Her chest heaved up and down, her shoulders tensing up tightly. Arms wriggling free from Draco's chest, she pushed him away with a force she hadn't imagined she had, her eyes lingering anywhere but on his the whole while.
He stumbled away, laughing cruelly. His shoulder smashed into the wall, but he didn't notice. He was only focusing on Ginny, and how her fire was slowly escaping from its icy cage.
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