Hurt Loves

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Hurt Loves

Chapter 2

Aravaeya

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No, as I said in the first chapter, I own none of this, and I am not making money off of it.

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We return from Hogsmeade at around 8:30 still having seen neither hide nor hair of Ron and Francesca, but having enjoyed ourselves none-the-less. Fred and George were very pleased to see us, and took the three of us out to lunch at a new restaurant in town called the ‘Glittering Galleon’. It was wonderful, and, as an early birthday present they presented me with a set of emerald earrings and an emerald necklace that match the emerald ring that they got me for Christmas a month ago. Set in a background of Wizard White Gold, a very rare form of white gold that sparkles unnaturally in light, they were almost to much for me to accept, and I tried to tell them so, but, as is typical of my brother’s, they protested that they would not be denied the pleasure of spoiling their favorite, and as I pointed out, only, sister. All-in-all, it was a very nice day, much more enjoyable than any of the rest of my trips into Hogsmeade, and I barely even thought about Draco once.

Hermione, Harry and I are walking back to the Gryffindor Common room, his arm around our shoulders once more, and we pass the entrance to Draco’s room. My thoughts wander to him, and I wonder how he is doing. I fear that I will not be able to get to him as early as I had hoped tonight because Ingrid, Lena, and Brieanon consumed far to much Butterbeer than a normal person should earlier today, and unlike normal people, these three girls seem to think that butterbeer is akin to caffeine. I have a feeling that they will be awake for a very long time tonight.

Hermione says that she needs to drop by her rooms and shower before she meets up with us in the Gryffindor common room, so we drop her next to her door and continue on our way.

Harry and I are walking in companionable silence, but I can tell that he wants to talk about something. He seems to gather up his courage as we near the corridor to Gryffindor Tower.

Finally, he opens his mouth and voices his thoughts. “Gin-bug, we never finished our conversation this morning.”

I sigh, but do not reply. I know that I should have expected this.

“I know that you were out last night, Gin,” he says, stopping our walk and turning me to look at him, “I know that you took my invisibility cloak, and I know that you were gone all night. You weren’t with Hermione either. Do you have a boyfriend? Because you really need to wait to have sex-”

I scoff at his nerve to warn me about waiting for sex. “Wait for sex, Harry? What, wait like you and Hermione did? You practically live in her room, Har!”

“You didn’t let me finish Gin,” he says, looking frustrated with me. “Hermione and I were together for almost a year before we slept together, and our original plan was to not even have sex before we got married! I don’t know why I’m explaining my sex life to you. My point is, Gin, that none of us are even aware of the fact that you have a boyfriend, so this cannot have been going on for very long, therefore making it not wise for you to take this step so early.”

I see the logic in his words, but he has no idea what he is talking about. I am not sleeping with Malfoy, I am helping him. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Harry, and I’m not sleeping with anyone, so don’t worry about me, okay?”

He studies me for a minute as if deliberating whether or not to tell me something and then speaks very quietly. “I recognized the smell on you this morning. I’ve smelt it before in the Quidditch locker rooms, and in Potions, and many other places. I’ve smelt only on the boy who makes it his business to provoke me every chance he gets. You smelt like Draco Malfoy, Gin, and I know what I smelt.”

I try to muster up a face that looks outraged. “So, what, Harry? Are you implying that I’m shagging Draco Malfoy behind yours and Ron’s and Hermione’s backs? Is that it?”

He is silent, leading me to believe that that is exactly what he is implying, which infuriates me. I love him, I really do, but why is he interfering in my own personal business? What gives him the right? “I don’t know Gin, you tell me.”

“Excuse me? Let’s get this straight once and for all, I am not sleeping with Malfoy. I do not like Malfoy, Malfoy does not like me. He does not like you, or Ron, or Hermione, and he definitely does not like me. What proof do you need? Maybe I fell asleep on his desk or something in the Transfiguration classroom last night.”

Harry looks pacified at my outburst, and I congratulate myself with my quickly thought up lie. We start out for the tower once more, his arm no longer around me, and the companionable silence of before gone.

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Here I am sitting in my dormitory once again. Curfew has come and gone, and so has ten o’clock, the time that I had told Draco that I would be at his room. Lena and Ingrid are still chattering away, and Brieanon is reading another one of her muggle romance novels. Francesca is still nowhere to be seen. I wish that they would all just go to sleep. It’s almost midnight for Christ sakes! Why can’t they be like normal people and go to sleep at ten o’clock.

I want to go to Draco. I can’t explain my reasons for it, but I know that I want it. I want to make sure that he’s okay, I want to find out why he’s hurt. I just want to see him, damn it!

I replay my conversation with Harry over and over again in my head as my roommates eventually begin to drift off to sleep. He suspects that I am using his cloak to sneak out to go and have sex with some boy at night. I assume this means that he’s going to be watching me from now on. Why does he have to be such a big brother?

Brieanon’s book slips from her hand onto the floor with a loud thump and I realize that there is no more noise in the room. Lena and Ingrid are both fast asleep on Ingrid’s bed, and Brieanon is already drooling onto her Duvet. I slip out of my bed and gather some clothes into a small satchel. I briefly wonder if I should change out of my pajamas into regular clothing, but they are modest. Flowy black satin drawstring bottoms, and a black satin tank  with wide straps. They are my favorite pair of pajamas, and since Draco will most likely be in his boxers still, he won’t mind my attire. I grab a ponytail holder, and sweep my mass of hair into a messy bun on top of my head.

Once onto the balcony between the boys and girls dormitories, I wonder if I should risk going out without the protection of the cloak, or risking waking Harry’s suspicions even more by collecting it. I decide that I would rather have Harry a little pissed at me than have to spend a week in detentions as my punishment from Filch. I stealthily make my way into the boys dorm where everyone is asleep. Everyone except for Harry, who is sitting up, obviously waiting for me.

“Ginny,” he greets me with a superior look on his face, as if I’ve somehow proved that I’m sneaking out of Gryffindor Tower to shag Draco Malfoy.

“Harry,” I reply. I smile sweetly at him, “I was wondering if I could borrow your invisibility cloak?”

He looks as if he is going to refuse, but nods slowly after a minute, knowing that refusing my request will make me extremely angry with him, something that I can tell that he wants to avoid. He makes one last plea at my retreating form though. “Ginny, please tell me, where are you going?”

“To help a friend in need, Harry. That is all.” I can tell from the look on his face that he has strong suspicions about who it is that I am helping, but he does not protest my leaving.

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The trip to the door of Draco’s quarters is uneventful, something that I can be thankful for, and I mutter the password to get it.

Draco is sitting on a chair near the door, in his boxers and an undershirt, looking slightly worried, and slightly angry. Was he waiting for me?

“It’s 1:15.” I glance at the clock only to find that it truly is 1:15, much later than I had thought it was. I deposit the invisibility cloak and my satchel of personal items on the floor next to him.

“I’m sorry, Draco.” I motion towards the bed, and he slowly, painfully rises from the chair. I take pity on him and give him my shoulder to lean on. I help him seat himself on the bed.

“Why are you late?” I glance up at his face and can see that he was more worried than angry upon closer study. It surprises me a little.

“Unlike your good self, I have four roommates that I have to be certain are asleep before I can escape.”

He considers this, obviously not having thought about the fact that I don’t have my own room and people watching me . I mention nothing of Harry’s suspicions as I gently help Draco slip off his undershirt. The bruises underneath are fading slightly, and on closer inspection, I can see that his collarbone will be just fine by tomorrow morning. I squeeze his hand gently with one of my hands as I prod the healing bone with my other, and he winces slightly, face screwing up in pain. I squeeze his hand again and rise off of the bed to collect the materials that I need from the bathroom once more.

As I search for the salve that I shall need for the bruises, I notice my makeup kit still sitting on the counter, and my clothes from the previous night sitting on top of his in the basket for soiled laundry. It seems so natural to see them sitting there, but I know that it is completely unnatural – and completely bizarre. What would my brother’s think? I wonder if it was Draco who put the clothes there, and if so, what his thoughts were while doing so.

The application of the medications does not take as long tonight, something for which I am glad. I am quite tired after my day out, and I hope that he will let me sleep here again tonight. I know that he noticed my new satchel of clothes when I entered his suite, but he did not show any expressions on his face that would betray his thoughts on the subject to me.

“You’re wearing your pajamas,” he states about halfway through the process. “Are you trying to suggest something?”

“You’re wearing your boxers,” I reply, giving a pointed glance to his lower half, “Which is considerably less than I’m wearing, so what’s your point? Seems to me that you’re the one doing the suggesting.”

He smirks at me and doesn’t reply, so I return to the bruise that I am working on.

I gently pat his non-broken wrist when I am finished applying new bandages to his broken ankle and sit back so that I am about a foot away from him on the large, exquisite bed. The clock reads 2:30. “All finished.”

We look at each other for a minute, and then he speaks first. “Did you enjoy your outing today?”

“Yes, actually, I did,” I reply, smiling slightly. I finger the earrings and necklace from my brothers that I have not taken off yet. “Fred and George got me these as an early birthday present.”

He leans forward with great effort and gently lifts the necklace up off of my chest with his non-broken hand. He fingers it and inspects it closely. He looks quite impressed. “That looks like almost a carat of Emeralds in the necklace, and set in Wizards white gold. Very nice. And very beautiful on you.”

“You can tell how much of a carat is in this just by looking at it?” I ask, somewhat surprised at his knowledge of my jewelry. I do not know how to respond to his compliment.

“My mother has this same set in rubies.” I know of nothing to say to that, so I sit silent, and we continue to look at each other. I can tell that his estimation of me is rising.

I finally muster up the courage to ask him what I have been wanting to all day. “Draco, why is it that you are being civil to me? Have you not always hated us Weasley’s? You tease Ron all the time, you make fun of my best friend, Hermione, and call her a ‘filthy mudblood’, and you despise Harry, who is one of the people that I love most in the world. I fight against the Dark Side! I helped put your father in prison, for Christ’s sake!”

He considers this for a moment, his face darkening, and carefully forms his reply. “You helped me Ginny, when there was no reason on earth for you to do so. I mean, shit, Gin, can you think of another person in this entire place who would do for me what you did for me? Who would hide me, and then help me with my, uh, my injuries like you did?”

I notice that he says nothing in regards to my comment about his father being in prison because of me.

“Crabbe? Goyle? Harry Potter?” I offer. He looks surprised and a little angry that I mentioned Harry’s name in his presence.

“Crabbe, Goyle and I have some major differences that prevent us from associating with one another now.” Draco looks uncomfortable, and the look on his face clearly warns me against asking questions. I will respect his wishes this time. “And Harry Potter. Precious Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Fucking-Lived. He wouldn’t help me, and I wouldn’t want help from someone like him even if he offered it.” This last sentence is said with an unmistakable coldness and hatred in his voice. Some things never change, namely Draco’s hate for Harry. I do not push the issue, thinking it best to not provoke any more outbursts from Draco tonight.

I can’t help but yawn at the thought of the late hour, and I see Draco’s eyes wander towards the sofa.

“Do you mind if I spend the night on your sofa again?” I ask, looking a little nervous. “I do not think I have the energy to make it back up to Gryffindor Tower.”

He smirks as if he suspects that my motives are different from the ones that I am stating. “Actually, Gin, I do mind. That sofa is terribly uncomfortable, and it is extremely cold tonight. If you stay here, you stay on the other side of the bed.”

It is a challenge, and I can see the gleam in his eyes. He is testing my will. He is trying to see if he can push me away, if he can irritate me enough that I will leave. He wants to know how loyal am. I will not give in, and I will prove to him that he does have someone in this old castle who cares for him.

“Well? The bed?” He points to the space a couple of feet away from him. I am speechless, but I am not about to argue. The room is unnaturally chilly, even for a late January night, and there is no way that I am going to leave for the tower. I silently crawl across the bed and under the covers. He looks pleased and surprised that I did not argue, and I help him move under the covers as he mutters a charm that extinguishes the lights.

I notice that here, in the bed, with Draco, it is much warmer than the sofa was last night, but I am so tired that I fall asleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.

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I hear the twelve soft chimes of a clock sound in the distance, and I slowly push myself back into a fully conscious state, banishing the last remnants of sleep from my overworked mind. I am cocooned in a soft nest of covers and I have no intention of leaving my bed soon, even if I am awake.

I realize that the clock chimes that I heard as I was waking were the chimes of Draco’s clock, and, after glancing over to the mantle, I see that I have indeed slept until noon as the chimes suggested. I suppose that I must get up if it really is that late. I don’t have anything to do today, but I can’t very well spend the entire day in Draco’s bed. What would he think?

I glance over to the other side of the bed, only to find it empty. I sit up, and glance around the room. He is not here, and I cannot see him through the open bathroom door either. Before I can react to go and search for him though, the door to his suited swings open, and he limps inside, still clad in his boxer shorts and undershirt, Dobby, his former house elf, following behind him with a large tray of food.

Dobby’s face immediately brightens upon seeing me, and, after depositing the tray of food on the table that Draco and I ate at previously, he smiles at me as he leaves the room. I begin to get out of bed but see Draco motion me to stop. I stay where I am and watch worriedly as he balances the overloaded tray on his good arm and slowly but steadily make his way over to the bed. I take the tray from his hand as he gradually clambers back up onto the tall bed. After rearranging the covers on top of him, I scoot a closer to the middle of the bed, as does he, so that we can lay the tray with each side on one of our legs. The food looks delicious, and I feel ravenous. I skipped dinner last night and was asleep for breakfast this morning. Glancing up at Draco, I can see that he is more than a little peckish as well.

There are two plates and two sets of utensils, which we divide between us, and then, after opening a small covered casserole dish that reveals masses of fluffy, butter colored scrambled eggs, I begin to dish them up. He opens another casserole to reveal bacon rounds, maple-flavored sausages, and grilled tomatoes and mushrooms, which he begins to divvy up.

We sit in companionable silence as we eat our food, and my stomach feels as if it is starting to be a little less cavernous, and a little more full as I near the end of my plateful. I reopen the casserole of eggs only to find that it’s contents have been replaced by four fresh baked warm and fluffy croissants. I retrieve one for Draco and one for myself and break it open, reveling in the sweet pastry smell that it gives off.

We are both thoroughly stuffed fifteen minutes later, and after I remove the tray from the bed and put it back on the table, we just lie back down.

“Thank you,” I say, glancing over at Draco’s still form. He turns his head towards me, a questioning look on his face. “For the breakfast, Draco, and for letting me stay here.”

I can see the conflicting emotions playing about on his pale face. He looks torn. He doesn’t know how to reply. He doesn’t even know how to say ‘you’re welcome’. I feel so sorry for him. He’s been brought up in such a rich lifestyle, but he has no experience with emotions whatsoever.

He nods, and I motion towards the bathroom. “Want me to run you a bath before redressing your wounds?”

“Yes, please,” he replies, and I glance at him, doing a double take at his use of the word ‘please’. He looks quite shocked as well, but also quite proud of himself. I give him a reassuring smile, and get out of bed to run his bath.

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Draco is washed, his injuries are seen to, and he is dressed in the outfit that I chose for him yesterday. I too have had a shower and have dressed, in a pair of deep red trousers similar to the ones that I wore yesterday and a black round neck top. I have cleaned up everything that I can see. The bed is made, the brunch dishes are disposed of, all of my things are packed neatly away, and I am now settled on the couch, with Draco on the other end, just sitting in companionable silence.

“Your injuries are from your father.” I state this simply and plainly, not wanting to deal with any more of the evasive bullshit that he’s been giving me every time I ask him how he was hurt.

He turns his face towards me, and I cannot read it. There is no emotion present on the delicate skin. “Yes.”

“He beat you.” I can hardly believe that I was right. I was just guessing, trying to provoke him into giving me the true story of what had happened.

“Yes, he beat me. It’s not the first time, and it certainly will not be the last.” He looks away, and I get the feeling that he does not want to talk about this, and not with me, but I am not about to leave without getting the answers that I want and that I feel that I deserve.

“Why, Draco?” I plead, wanting him to share this with me. He is silent and still, so I scoot down to his end of the couch, putting my arm around his shoulder, using my other hand to turn his face towards me. The sight of his sad gray eyes makes me want to cry. He looks so lost. So alone. So conflicted. I whisper softly to him once more. “Why?”

“I don’t want to be what he is,” he states simply, his voice just as soft as mine. His eyes search mine, trying to gouge my feelings.

“You don’t want to be a Death Eater?” I ask, quite surprised. I had assumed that it was what Draco wanted most.

He shakes his head and I ask him why, my arm still around his shoulders, my hand still palming his cheek.

“I have seen the face of Lord Voldemort, I have seen what he does, and I want no part in that.”

“Isn’t it what you always wanted?” I ask, “to follow your father? You hate mudbloods.”

“Voldemort is a mudblood, did you know that?”

I shake my head, quite stunned. I had no idea that he was a mudblood. I had always assumed that he was a full blood because he believed that they were the only type of wizards that deserved to be wizards. If he really was just a mudblood, then he was completely – the only word I can think of is – hypocritical. Draco nods at me, knowing what I am thinking.

“I cannot let myself follow such a horrible creature, such a perverse and ugly thing. While I believe some of the principles that he upholds, I can think for myself now, and not rely on my father’s thoughts, and I could not live with myself if I bowed to Lord Voldemort.”

“And you told your father this?” I ask, moving my hand away from his cheek to take one of his hands.

He nods. “He was pressuring me into meeting the Dark Lord the other day and I refused, and told him that I had no intentions of becoming a Death Eater. I told him that we were losing the war, and that I did not support Voldemort, and that I would not bow to him. Hence this.” He motions to his bruises.

I close my eyes for a minute, trying to picture in my head what it must be like for Draco at home, and I cannot even put together a basic picture.

“It’s two o’clock, Ginny,” he mumbles, looking away from me. “Your friends will be wondering where you’ve gotten to. You should go.”

I sigh, knowing that that is a signal that our discussion is over. He does have a good point though. Hermione will probably be sick with worry that she can’t find me to study with, and Harry will probably be fuming that I spent the night with Malfoy. I sigh and lift myself off of the couch. Draco catches my wrist in his light grip and pulls me back down towards him. He lifts his lips as if he is going to whisper something in my ear, so I close my eyes so as to not see up his nose or something, and feel his lips gently graze my own.

“Thank you, Ginny,” he whispers, and I open my eyes to find myself looking into his. I smile, letting my eyes linger for a moment on his lips before making my decision.

“I will be back tonight, be here,” I say softly, breathing into his ear.

“I will be, don’t worry.”

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Please Review. This is my first Draco/Ginny fic, and, like any other author, reviews are what make it all worth it!