Chapter 5 - My Own
The fanatical eyes of Bellatrix Lestrange swam in front of Draco and he shuttered his own against them. But he could still feel her. Watching him.
"It's always hard seeing it for the first time, isn't it?" she asked with a motherly concern that Draco knew did not exist. "But you'll get used to it, my darling. You'll even learn to enjoy it."
She moved closer, crowding him and forcing him to back up against a tree. "You have potential, Draco. Great potential." She laid a hand against his chest but what concerned him more was her lips mere inches for his. He could feel her hot breath when she spoke. "Your father may not think so, but they never thought I would amount to much you know. Cissy was the beautiful one. Andy the smart one. Sirius the funny one. Reg the obedient one. But now, now, I do things on my own. Don't you want to do that too?"
Draco nodded meekly, afraid of moving, afraid of the next second hurtling him in the direction he had always been fated to go. His own. He would never do things on his own.
"But you, love, still have so much to learn." She purred this time and licked her lips. Suddenly grabbing his left wrist, she pulled his hand up to eye level. "I see you wear your father's ring." She pressed her thumb against the platinum crest before flicking the off-centered eye-shaped emerald. "But you're better than a Malfoy. You're a Black."
"Bella!" Lucius Malfoy snarled, pulling the witch away from his son. He didn't like to share. "It's time for another…demonstration." He turned angrily towards Draco. "Maybe this one will be more to your taste. At any rate, you better be able to stand for it or I'll make sure you'll never stand again."
Bellatrix gave Draco a wide smile. "I'm sure you'll do fine. By and by, love, how old are you? seventeen, eighteen now?"
"I'm only fifteen," Draco croaked.
"Oh, even better."
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Ginny woke up in a cold sweat. It had been nearly a month since Draco had shown her a mere glimpse of his interaction with Bellatrix Lestrange but still it haunted her. As she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, she thought for the umpteenth time how it must still haunt him too. And though she was desperate to talk to him again, she never managed to get him alone. If she was ever able to find him, which was rarely since he quitted both Quidditch and his Prefect duties, he always had a Slytherin at his side. Usually Blaise Zabini who had recently perfected a glare that even Snape could have been proud of.
But still Ginny persevered. At every opportunity, she tried to make eye contact with Draco. But somehow, he always managed to avert his gaze. Even Ron began noticing her distraction. Only last night, at supper, he had put his fork down (something he rarely did when he had begun eating). "Oi, Ginny, let Malfoy die in peace. Even I'm letting that poor bugger do that."
Of course there had been plenty of speculation regarding Draco's condition since the beginning of the year. No one believed the general claim that the Slytherin was mourning his father's arrest but even Hermione eventually shrugged and said it was beyond her understanding. Though Harry had insisted that Draco was involved in some suspicious activities, the blond's continued listlessness had elicited a near sympathy in almost everyone else. With the exception of Cormac McLaggen and some fellow Gryffindors who continued to snicker at him, the rest of the school could not help but be disturbed by the boy's steady deterioration. It was as though the forgiveness that came with death had already descended in anticipation of the event.
Ginny threw herself back down on her bed, willing herself to stop thinking of Draco and fall asleep. But all she could do was think of him. She rolled off the mattress and onto her feet, cursing his name. 'Might as well grab a snack in the kitchens,' she muttered to herself. It wasn't as though she could go back to sleep anytime soon.
She padded down to the kitchens, her socked feet nearly silent against the stone floor. The twins had taught her the path to take in order to avoid Filch and she was tickling the pear in no time. But when she walked in, no house elf greeted her like usual. Though it hardly mattered. The moonlight was streaming in through the tall windows and bouncing off Draco Malfoy's fair hair.
"Draco?" she whispered. But he didn't hear her. He was staring out the glass window at the silent night. She could almost see the wish in his eyes. Only, she didn't know what he wished for. Feeling like an intruder, she started walking backwards and didn't see the chair behind her in the dimly-lit kitchen. She was on her back before she knew it, her legs above her against the side of the now turned-over chair. And Draco above her, looking half-angry but also fighting an urge to smirk. But he gave in and it was really rather a relief. To see he wasn't upset with her and that he wasn't completely devoid of humor; it just made her feel better.
"Help me up, you prat!" Great, Ginny, that's the way to win him over...
"And pray, why would I do that, Weasley?" he asked, examining his nails and making no move to bend down.
"Because...because you should," she spluttered.
"That's a rather mundane answer. I don't think it merits any action on my part."
"But I'm a damsel in distress," she tried. She even batted her eyelashes a little.
"I don't believe in fairy tales, Weasley. And what? you got something in your eye, too?"
"Oh, who am I kidding?" she huffed, giving up any pretense that she could charm someone like Draco Malfoy. Or even get him to help her. She glared at the boy standing above her. He struck quite the elegant pose. His back straight, his head tilted ever so slightly and his legs casually crossed. Probably breed to do it. "But who are you kidding?" she muttered. Because she knew, she knew, that it was just that. A pose. Nothing more. Nothing less.
"Pardon?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.
Ginny laughed. And of course Draco Malfoy would say pardon instead of 'what?' Ginny twisted to get up. Or at least, into a more comfortable position but somehow watching Draco watch her made her lose all ability to control her limbs properly. Draco finally let out a sigh and grabbed her waist, pulled her up and stood her up in front of him.
"Er...thanks."
"You know, I learned how to stand when I was about two. Perhaps I was a rather advanced child."
"Ha, ha," she said as she punched him in the arm.
Draco hissed in pain and grabbed his arm. Even in the dim light, she could see the bruise spreading rapidly on his pale skin, like a spilled ink bottle on parchment. Ginny gasped and tried to - tried to what? She didn't know what to do.
"We should get you to Madame Pomfrey," she said as she hovered over him.
"Don't you think they've already tried, Weasley. Don't you think they've already done everything they could," he snarled, pain and anger contorting his features. "Not everything has a cure."
And pushing past her, he left Ginny alone in the kitchen with the moonlight still streaming in, making everything it touch shimmer silver in the dimness.