Okay funny thing when I started this chapter I thought it would be fluffier than normal... boy was I wrong! That is why it has taken so long to get out - I find it challenging to write the darker stuff.
Also just a bit of a warning - this is the most "R" rated chapter to date. There are references to rape - you can't say I didn't warn you!
Thanks as always to all those who reviewed! and special thanks to clanmalfoy for beta'ing this bad boy and to kirixchi for listening to me whine!
Chapter 17 - You Can't Run Forever
The Great Hall hummed with the chatter of students. It wasn't as loud as in previous years, but voices still carried through the vaulted room.
Ginny had assumed her seat at the Gryffindor table. Colin sat to her right; he was bitterly lamenting that they had to wait for the Sorting for the meal to be served. Apparently he had slept through the trolley on the train, and was quite regretting it.
She sat quietly; she didn't feel the need to speak and fill the silence. It was a bit surreal being back at school. There were many missing faces, the most from the Slytherin table. As Ginny watched the faces of her classmates, she understood why Dumbledore had insisted that they resume classes as soon as possible. She saw healing in their expressions and words. The empty seats were recognized and mourned and then those that remained reconnected, and remembered the strength of friendship.
If only it were that easy, she sighed.
Ginny's eyes, of their own accord, met steel gray ones. They locked gazes, many words unspoken. Uncharacteristically Draco was the first to break contact. His eyes darted away.
Ginny dropped her head. What was happening? Why was he acting this way?
She understood the need for secrecy; she honestly didn't know how to approach the friendship they had forged this summer either. But there was something else, something else that was causing to him to act so coldly.
A small voice in the back of her head, the same one that she had been trying to ignore since she had left his compartment on the train, spoke up again. This is what you knew would happen. Why would you think that Draco Malfoy would actually be your friend? You are a muggle loving Weasley and that's not even the half of it. He knows... he knows what kind of person you really are.
Names were being called in the background. But Ginny was unaware.
She vaguely heard the cheers surrounding her when Hermione was announced Head Girl.
The cheers continued as small, frightened first years made their way to the dais and donned the Sorting Hat.
Louis Adams... Hufflepuff.
Claire Anderson... Ravenclaw.
Wesley Bulstrode... Gryffindor
.
Even the loud gasp that was quickly followed by polite applause from the Gryffindor table didn't reach Ginny's subconscious.
She needed to get out of the hall. She felt constricted; her thoughts were spiraling, pulling her down. As the names of fresh-faced first years continued to be called Ginny stepped out of her seat at the end of the table and backed out of the hall.
Colin felt Ginny move next to him. He stopped talking to Seamus and found her seat open.
"Gin?" He looked back and caught her silently moving away from the hall. She shook her head at him and kept moving.
Colin moved to stand up, but a movement across the hall stopped him. Draco Malfoy was rising from his seat. Colin stopped; something inside him told him to let events play out. Something had changed in Draco Malfoy, he wasn't the same irritating prat that he had been. More importantly, something had changed between Draco and Ginny; he had sensed it in their confrontation on the train.
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Draco was alone. For the first time in all his years at Hogwarts he sat alone at the Slytherin table. Gone were Crabbe and Goyle. Goyle was still in school, but he had sensed the shift in power and had quickly sniffed out a new leader.
Blaise Zabini appeared to have stepped up to the role. Slytherins sat around him, Pansy to his right. He had made his move to replace Draco and Pansy had followed suit.
Pansy shot Draco a withering glare. She was angry with him; that much was evident. There seemed to be more in her cold gaze, though, perhaps disappointment. He had betrayed their House as far as they were concerned.
Of course most Slytherins knew what had happened, who had died at his hand. They at least knew more than the average student. Most of their parents were very well connected either to the Ministry or to the Dark Arts, and knowledge of his acts would be available to them.
This is why he had asked that Dumbledore remain silent as to his deeds. Draco didn't want to answer questions, receive stares of hatred or, Merlin forbid, pity. His actions were his and his alone.
He vaguely heard Dumbledore announce his name as Head Boy. He ignored the gasps that resounded through hall at the revelation. Draco merely inclined his head in recognition of his position.
He sneered at the raucous cheering that erupted from the Gryffindor table as Hermione's name was announced as Head Girl. She blushed and stood bowing her head in acceptance, only to fall happily into Harry's arms as he hugged her in congratulations.
He continued to scan the Gryffindor table. He finally caught sight of the one person he had been both seeking out and consciously avoiding, Ginny Weasley.
She looked pale, surrounded by the warm red and gold of her house. Her eyes remained fixed; apparently she had found a deep interest in the table dressing. Colin sat next to her, gesticulating wildly to Seamus.
She looked alone. He shouldn't want to sit with her. He shouldn't want to remove the pain that dulled her eyes. He shouldn't even look at her. But he did.
He didn't doubt the words of Nott that night; he was well acquainted with the tactics and the methods of Death Eaters. He had expected retaliation, but he hadn't expected to have someone else to worry about.
He logically knew that the best plan was to cut himself off from the redhead. It shouldn't be terribly difficult, should it? She was just an ickle-Gryffindor and a Weasley to boot, he rationalized. But despite all the reasons his mind produced, his heart told him differently.
Draco Malfoy wasn't accustomed to his emotions dictating his actions. In fact the simple truth that he cared, made him want to throw Ginny to the wind all the more.
But as he watched her eyes go large and her body jump up, he knew that he couldn't obey the rational side of his mind. He couldn't leave this lost soul to the wind. He wouldn't let another person drift away while no one else noticed.
When she quietly began backing out of the hall, he followed suit. He really had no choice.
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It didn't matter where she went as long as it was away. Halls whipped by her, stone wall after stone wall.
Her self-doubt and memory consumed her. She couldn't escape from this though.
Ginny found herself at the end of a hallway somewhere on the third floor. It was dark in the windowless corner. She rested her head on the cold stone wall, attempting to still her rasping breaths from her flight.
She could feel the frustration welling just behind her eyes. It continued to build as she pictured her classmates smiling in the Hall, laughing and happy. She saw Harry and Hermione, hands clasped wandering off the train, Seamus and Dean arguing over Quidditch. Didn't they understand that nothing was the same?
Nothing would ever be the same again.
She could never again be the Ginny who would run down the stairs and blush innocently at the sight of Harry Potter, the Ginny who would giggle as Ron and Hermione fought, the Ginny who believed that every rainbow had a pot of gold and every story a happy ending. She now knew all too well that most rainbows met dark ends and stories often ended tragically.
She flipped over pressing her back against the wall, allowing the cold stone to cool her body. She slid down the wall like a rag doll. Her knees folded up and she rested her forehead on them. Her hands were fisted in her robes, impotently seeking purchase.
She sat there, silently, unable even to cry, allowing the memories to flood her system.
Draco rounded the corner, he had been through nearly every hall on the third floor. As he followed her flight from the hall he caught a glimpse of red hair and flying black robes entering the third floor corridor.
He almost missed her. She was a small bundle of sharp knees, red hair and robes, scrunched against the stone wall.
She could hear his footsteps approaching. She knew it was him, his gait was precise and his expensive shoes snapped against the hard floor.
She didn't know why he was here. She was afraid he would see what was in her eyes. So Ginny remained with her head buried in her knees, waiting for him to break the silence.
He came to a stop in front of her, his mind still warring. Ultimately it was her utter silence that ended the battle.
He hunkered down on his haunches before her. He took a deep breath and uttered two words very unfamiliar to his vocabulary. "I'm sorry."
She refused to look up, she wouldn't meet his eyes. His words washed over her not truly penetrating.
Draco watched her, her head remaining buried in her knees, "Gin? Gin, what is it?"
She merely shook her head her hair spreading out.
He reached an arm forward and ran it through her hair. He didn't know why he was sitting here with her when she wasn't talking to him. He didn't know why he couldn't just let her be. He did know that he had seen something in her earlier, and he would be damned if he didn't figure it out.
"I'm sorry that I have been short with you... there are reasons." He stopped there; he didn't want to explain further, not now.
Ginny looked up slowly. "It's okay, it doesn't matter." Her voice was hollow and her tone short. "Just go, Draco..."
"No."
She raised her eyes again; she wanted to believe that he cared. She was terrified that if she told him what she had remembered he wouldn't feel that way ever again, But what frightened her even more was how dependent upon his support she had become.
Her eyes were shiny with unshed tears, and wracked with agony. It came to him as watched her try to avoid his gaze. His hand remained in her hair, softly stroking its length. "You remember, don't you?"
Her mouth fell open and her eyes grew large.
"Tell me."
He made it sound so simple, just tell him and everything would be better. She hadn't expected him to take that line. She felt impotent anger rise up in her.
"Oh is it that simple?" she snapped.
Draco remained impassive. She was close to breaking, it wouldn't do to have them both riled.
"Yes, it can be."
"Well, it's not and I'm not going to pretend that it is. Nothing is ever that simple. I would have thought you of all people would understand that." Ginny exhaled deeply. The anger that she had built up began to fall away. It had been just a shell she realized as it slipped away and she was left with nothing. "Just go, Draco..."
His hand continued to stroke her scalp, "Please... Don't... I don't want you to see me like this... I'm not worth it."
She felt her body being pulled up from the ground, and encased in strong arms. She felt his breath stir near her ear.
"You are the only thing that is worth it."
She supposed it was the hypocrisy of his statement that started the flow of tears. Whatever it was, it had worn her resistance down and she couldn't hold it back anymore.
He felt her body convulse in his arms. Where else he had failed in trying to snap her out of the mood he found her in, this had worked. He supposed tears were better than her raging.
"Why did he pick me Draco? Why was it me who he wanted to carry his child? Why did he have to take it all away from me?"
Draco's arms tightened around, he wished he didn't have to hear these memories. She sounded broken, defeated and utterly unlike Ginny Weasley. The girl he knew had managed to stay strong, tease and laugh in spite of what had occurred. He supposed though that ignorance was bliss.
"Because of who you are, Ginny. You came from a pureblood family; an ancient family with powerful magic. He had access to your mind, and through you access to everyone he wanted to kill."
His logical reasons penetrated the haze of her mind. Amidst sobs she said, "I know, I've known all along, but it hurts so much. I wish I didn't remember."
Draco scooped up her legs and cradling her against his chest he looked for an empty classroom - anywhere that wasn't the hallway.
She was light in his arms. Her body felt painfully thin after this summer and her injuries, and it heaved with the remnants of her sobs.
Draco pushed the door to the Muggle Studies classroom with his back. The back of the room was furnished as a muggle living room. There was a sofa with a television and a radio. He headed to the overly stuffed floral couch - he grimaced at the very idea of sitting there.
Ginny's fingers clutched at his nape, her cheek was pressed into the fabric covering his chest. Once settled, he let her cry it out. Ginny tried to stifle her tears; she hated that she had turned into a watering pot.
"I'm sorry, I've messed up your shirt." Ginny sniffled as she pulled back. "Where are we?" She looked around having been completely oblivious to the fact that Draco had taken her from the hallway.
"It looks to be Muggle Studies," Draco responded, a look of disgust on his features.
Ginny wanted to laugh at the expression on his face, but the sound just didn't come.
Draco took his knuckle and swept away the remaining path of tears that marred her cheek. "Do you want to talk about it?"
The quiet understanding in his eyes proved to be her undoing.
"I want to... but I can't." Her chin dropped down.
"Why not?"
Ginny remained silent...determining how to respond to his simple question. In the end, honesty won out. She just didn't have it in her to evade the truth.
"I don't want you to leave me."
Draco stilled, her words were stark.
"If I tell you, you'll see who I really am... and then I will truly be alone. Maybe I'm selfish but I won't do that, I can't do that."
Draco lifted her chin up, "I won't leave you... You're stuck with me." The words were foreign coming out of his mouth. He didn't know what he was saying, but it felt right.
She began slowly. His sincerity seemed genuine and she knew that this would eat her alive were it to be left to fester.
"The night you arrived at the Burrow... the nightmare I was having..." she swallowed loudly, her mouth suddenly dry.
Draco nodded, figuring as much. He let her go at her pace; this was her story to tell.
She leaned her head back onto his chest and closed her eyes. Her memories began to fall, slow and steady from her lips.
Her head was spinning; the potion was in full effect. She could make out the glowing light of a candle near the door, the door she hadn't noticed until now.
Her breathing was shallow despite the relaxing effect of the potion she had been fed. She had been brought into this room several times, but never had she been left alone.
Footsteps echoed, but Ginny couldn't determine where the sounds were coming from. Her head was heavy; she rested it on the back of the chair she had been pushed into earlier. Her eyelids floated downward.
How long she rested there she didn't know. Time had no meaning anymore. A creak alerted her senses. Ginny cracked her eyes open, the door in front of her slowly opened.
A figure filled the doorway. Black billowing robes fluttered about the figure.
"Ah... Virginia."
It was the voice! Her eyes flew open and she tried to rouse herself from her chair. She hadn't the strength. Her mind was clear now, but her body sluggish.
"Shhh... my child. Don't struggle." His voice resounded through her head, strong and imposing.
He stepped forward. Ginny sucked in a breath as his features came into stark relief. He wasn't quite human... he couldn't be. His skin was unnaturally pale, and his eyes were mere slits, burning red. He continued to move closer until he stood directly in front of her.
"Virginia, why the shock? You knew I would come for you. I missed talking to you."
His voice caressed her mind, curling through her thoughts. Throughout his speech, his mouth remained still, never cracking.
He leaned forward, the black fabric of his robes circled around her like a tent. Ginny's heartbeat increased; a feeling of entrapment seized her heart. She felt his cold, bony hands graze her cheek. She shuddered at his touch.
"I disgust you don't I?" Ginny blinked at his question.
"Would you prefer I look like this?" He pulled a wand from the pockets of his robe and waved it. His blue-tinted skin was replaced with the healthy glow of youth. The hood to his robe fell away to reveal wavy black hair. He smiled at her shock.
"Don't you remember your friend, Virginia? Don't you remember how I talked with you, helped you, was there for you when you were so alone?" Ginny was unable to speak. She continued to blink her acknowledgment.
"I never forgot you Virginia, I never forgot what a strong witch you could become, and I never forgot how you deserved to be treated."
She couldn't believe this was happening. Tom was standing before her, the Tom who had talked to her for a year, Tom who had tried to kill her, Tom who had ruined her life.
"Ah so you do remember... I didn't think you would forget me." She stared at him in disbelief, he seemingly was reading her mind.
"No, I am not reading your mind. Although I could, if I wanted, it's just that your thoughts are so plainly visible."
Her eyes slightly narrowed the utter shock at seeing Tom was starting to wear off.
"So your fire has not been completely extinguished, I like that." Tom's boyishly handsome face smiled.
Ginny opened her mouth to speak but Tom silenced her. "Now, Virginia, I know you wonder why you are here. It's quite simple really. But I'd really rather not talk about that, I'd rather talk about you."
"Does Harry still ignore you? Has Ron listened to a word you've said? Does your mother still think castoffs are suitable for you? Do you still feel trapped by your last name?"
His barrage of questions hit Ginny like a ton or bricks. It was everything she had ever written to him about. What hit the hardest was that they were still true. Everything that she had confided in Tom still haunted her. She had once though that by writing down those emotions that she would no longer be harnessed by her worries. Apparently she had been quite deluded.
"Ahhh... Ginny," he pointedly used her abbreviated name. "I remember how much they hurt you. I can take away that pain. It is simple really." He echoed his earlier words.
"No." It was the first words that she had spoken and it was all that she could get out. Everything he said was painfully true, but she knew that whatever he offered her would never be worth the cost.
He didn't grow angry, yet.
Tom raised an eyebrow and pulled back from her a bit. "Feisty." Tom ran a finger down her cheek. Ginny shivered at his touch, it was so cold.
"Think about it Ginny, think of all that you could have..." Tom turned swiftly and left her alone in the room.
Ginny stared at him blankly after him. She didn't want this. She didn't want to be put in a position where she had to choose between sacrificing everything she had ever known and loved for the chance to perhaps rise above the limits of her reality.
She didn't want to think about what Tom was really offering. It was almost easy to forget that he was Lord Voldemort, a manifestation of pure evil, when he stood before her as Tom. She had always remained a bit conflicted over her experiences during her first year. Tom had first been her friend. He had hurt her though, made her do terrible things, tried to kill her. Looking back she never saw him as that friend anymore. Instead she saw him as an opportunist, one who took advantage of a desperately lonely, impressionable 11 year old.
But her mind could never divorce the pleasure she had felt with him as a confidant. He had listened to her, valued her opinion, and allowed her to do things she never imagined. He had promised her power then... She had been too weak to put up much of a defense, and it had almost gotten her killed. She wouldn't be so foolish again.
But, she thought. This is different. There is no way out of this situation; there is no Harry Potter to save me anymore. He was never "my" hero, and he never will be she thought bitterly.
Ginny was left in the room, silent as a tomb, for several hours. She could hear the sounds of those passing by periodically. It was that contact with the outside world that kept her sane, drugged and incapacitated as she was. She wondered what Voldemort would do when she refused to take his offers; she wondered what it was he wanted in return if she were to accept. If she had learned anything from him it was that nothing was done without a calculated benefit.
The door creaked open once again and Tom, not Lord Voldemort, stood in the jamb.
He beckoned her forward with one hand. "Come, Virginia."
The spells that had bound her to the chair were lifted. Ginny slowly put her limbs to use, they were slow and unresponsive. She had managed to pull herself upright when she felt pressure on her arm. She looked over; Tom had cupped her forearm and was helping her forward.
He smiled down at her. "I have something to show you."
Ginny continued to stare up at him dumbly. She shook her head breaking the contact. Why was he doing this to her? Why was he able to so easily breach her defenses?
The room he helped her into was resplendent. Decorated in rich fabrics and dark woods, it was fantastic in size and expense. It brought to mind images of what a room in Malfoy Manor must look like.
"Are you tired Ginny? Go on, lie down a bit." Still holding her arm, Tom directed her toward the large bed, displayed on a dais, in the middle of the room.
Ginny felt as though she was floating above her body merely observing its actions, as much control as she had over them. Her body sank into the downy mattress and her head fell onto a fluffy pillow. It was by far the most comfortable bed she had ever touched.
She felt the mattress sink as Tom lowered himself to its edge. She could feel his hand in her hair, caressing the strands.
"Do you like the room?" he asked quietly.
Ginny, dazed at the circumstances, merely nodded.
"From our conversations I always pictured this as a room in which you would find comfort."
"It's beautiful," Ginny finally managed to remark.
His thumb made a lazy pass over her cheekbone. "Not as beautiful as you, my dear."
What was going on? Ginny wondered. Why was he acting this way? Nothing was right.
A serious light entered Tom's eyes. "I can feel the power in you, Ginny." Tom finally broke the silence. "Why do you deny the magic in you? You are powerful beyond your imagination."
"I...wha... The power?" Ginny finally managed to bite out.
"Virginia," he began, his voice soft as if he were conversing with a young child. "You are a rare girl in a longstanding family of pureblooded wizards. The last Weasley female was born long before my time. In that uniqueness you have the potential to produce very powerful heirs. All depending upon who you breed with."
Ginny's eyes widened, she had never thought much about the lack of females on her fathers side of the family. There were always many around in the form of wives. The turn of his conversation made the hackles on the back of her neck stand up.
"The magic in your blood runs strong for this express purpose; the child you produce will be exceptional." Tom stared into Ginny's large eyes; his finger strayed from her hair and caressed her check only to still on her chin. He tilted it up and just as he lowered his lips to hers he whispered, "And it will be mine."
Ginny had watched his face approach hers. His hair was warmed by the glow of candles surrounding the bed. She had never noticed his eyes before; they were hazel with predominately green flecks. She watched as in slow motion as his mouth closed over hers. The heat was intense, his tongue coaxing her lips opened. As he entered her mouth flooding her senses, his words penetrated her mind.
His child! Ginny's mind rebelled. No! She would never let that happen.
She struggled a bit trying to pull away. Tom placed his hands on her upper arms, using his strength and leverage to pacify her. When she quieted a bit, he deepened the kiss. His tongue slowly rubbed across hers, teasing in its path. Ginny ignored the pleasure that it was intended to give.
She tensed her arms again, but between the potions she had been given earlier to relax her and his superior strength she knew it would be futile. So Ginny did the only thing she could think of to stop him. She bit his tongue sharply.
Tom pulled up quickly, he didn't call out in pain rather he just glared at her and held his jaw with one hand. He spit a small amount of blood to the side of the bed and turned his attention back toward Ginny.
"That wasn't wise, my Virginia." He removed his hand from his jaw and quickly clamped her arms against the bed.
He stared her in the eye. "This, my dear, can be easy or it can be hard. The choice is entirely up to you."
Ginny felt impotent anger welling up in her. That was no choice at all. She wouldn't acquiesce. She had to fight; she couldn't live with herself if she took the easy way out."Never!' Ginny spat in Tom's face.
She watched his features darken. Gone was the warm façade he had presented while trying to manipulate her, in its stead was the real Tom - The Tom who hated his muggle father, the Tom who had been mistreated as an orphan so much so that he snapped and dedicated his life to eradicating muggles. This was the Tom that frightened Ginny.
"To think I once held you in high regard - A Gryffindor with a modicum of sense. Very well, Virginia, be that as it may."
Tom took off his outer robes and with a flick of his wand she found herself stripped of the ragged school uniform that she had been left with since her capture. Her hands flew forward to cover herself. Tom's wand flicked again and she found her arms tied above her head, leaving her completely exposed and vulnerable.
"Just remember, Ginny, this was your choice. As your favorite little professor always says, it is your choices that make you who you are."
Ginny fought with every ounce of her being, and as she knew it would be, it wasn't enough.
She found Tom relying on physical strength rather than magical devices to complete his act. Blows rained upon her head as she spewed comments at him, reminding him of his low birth. She referred to her blood and how he would never be good enough for her, anything she could think of in the heat of the moment that would hurt him. It was the only way she could inflict pain on him, as he was doing to her.
After a particularly strong backhand to the cheek, Ginny lay dazed. He took advantage of her incapacity and she felt him enter her, tearing her. She closed her eyes against the pain. She refused to cry, or to call out. He would never know how much he was hurting her, she would rather die.
Ginny watched the scene as if she were an objective observer. She tried to separate her mind from her body. Although it felt as though a lifetime had passed, it ended as quickly as it had begun. Tom stiffened above her then his head dropped. He didn't let himself fall atop her; rather he kept his arm locked. His boyish face hovered above hers.
When his eyes opened, the hazel seemed to have completely disappeared. His eyes glowed green with power and satisfaction. He locked his eyes with hers. "Remember, Virginia, this was your choice. It didn't have to be this way."
Tom pulled himself away from Ginny, stood up and shrugged on his robes. He left the room, purpose to his strides.
She hadn't shed a tear the entire time; she remained stoic and silent in Draco's arms. Occasionally the small sweep of his hands across her back could be heard in the stillness of the classroom.
"I don't know how many times it happened; I don't know how many times I found myself in that room, nursing bruises and painful reminders of Tom's presence. Each time though, on the following evening, a grizzled old witch would come and run a few tests, until her wand indicated I was pregnant... Only then did he leave me alone."
"How I hated that child and yet loved it! It kept him away from me... How could I feel that way? Merlin, Draco! What kind of monster am I? It didn't have a choice in the matter?"
She tried to scramble out of his embrace. Draco fought to keep her flailing limbs within the circle of his arms. "Don't touch me!" she shrieked. the dam was breaking and she was becoming hysterical. "Don't!" She scraped at her arms with her nails, "I can still feel his touch, it was so cold..."
Broken phrases continued to pour from her lips. Draco could make out several recurring words and phrases -- "dirty," "her child," and "cold, so cold." Her fevered pitch seemed to have reached its zenith and her hands continued to claw at her bare arms. Long red welts appeared on the pale skin.
Draco moved forward. She was hurting herself. "Ginny? Shhhh...." He tried to use soothing tones as he approached her form at the opposite end of the sofa.
She didn't look up at him; she seemed utterly unaware of his presence in the room. Draco slowly placed one hand atop hers, stilling its harmful path across her forearm. Finding success, he followed suit with his other hand.
Pleased that he had stopped her from hurting herself further, he settled himself next to her. She remained rigid next to him, her body utterly still.
"They have every right to hate me..." She finally turned her face towards him; her eyes were large and dull. "How can they stand to even look at me?"
Draco remained silent. There was little he could say even if he knew the words. He could tell her that she was none of the things she thought herself, but it would mean little until she could believe it herself. So he let her speak all her insecurities and share everything that was consuming her. When she would work herself back up again, he would whisper quiet, calming words in her ear.
Eventually she stopped speaking. Silence filled the room, but it was comfortable. Draco felt her weight finally relax against his side. He looked down, her head rested on his shoulder and her hand lay next to his.
Ginny's face was pale against his dark robes and next to her dark red hair. The sweep of her lashes touched her freckled cheeks as her breathing slowed into the rhythms of sleep. He let her rest against him; he would take her back to the Gryffindor common room later. Preferably, once everyone was asleep; he didn't fancy running into Granger, Potter or, even worse, Weasley.
He sat, contemplating the complication she represented, the threat she was to the walls he had built for protection, and concern he felt toward her that he was unable to quash.
Somehow during it all Draco found his hand moving over hers and his fingers curling around comfortably. It felt right, and so he remained with their hands intertwined until the night grew late and the room chilled.