We all know that Love Hurts, but can Hurt Love? When Ginny finds herself helping a student with whom she is not close to, will it blossom into something more? A story about love growing from hurt.
From the Unofficial Portkey Archive: https://portkey-archive.org/story/716/
Rosanna Kerr Normal Rosanna Kerr 1 1 2003-07-14T06:32:00Z 2003-07-14T06:33:00Z 11 5474 24637 483 93 38324 9.3821
Hurt Loves
Aravaeya
This is just a little something that I wrote while I was bored this afternoon. This does not mean that I don’t like it though. I really do like it, so please review it.
No, I own none of this.
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I am not close to the other girls in my dormitory. It’s past curfew and here we all are, sleeping the night away. Well, everyone except for me. I can never get to sleep very easily. I envy the other girls in here who can. I’m here, sitting in my snug four poster bed, snuggled in among the pillows and feather comforters, and completely relaxed, but still, I’m wide awake. I feel that sleep will not come to me tonight.
Ingrid and Lena Halstrom have the two beds to my immediate left, and they drifted off about fifteen minutes ago, after whispering half of the night away. They’re twins who moved to Britain from Sweden the year before they began at Hogwarts, and they are, undoubtedly, the most popular sixth years attending Hogwarts. Everyone loves them, including the Slytherin boys, who generally avoid loving Gryffindor girls if they can possibly help it. I’ve never felt that I was good enough to be with them. They’re 5’8” with long, waist length golden blonde hair and blue eyes. My hair is waist length, and I guess that is very fine and silky, but, as my brothers always point out, it is red. Actually, I’ve decided that it’s sort of an auburn, coppery color, but it’s still red, and I hate it. No one likes red hair. And I’m only 5’4”, which is short compared to the rest of the girls in the sixth year. Ingrid and Lena are nice to me, but we’ve never been close because they have an air about them that warns me to stay away. They are very proud. And very rich.
Brieanon Bennet, who is currently sleeping in the bed immediately to my right, is 5’7”, has shoulder length black hair, and decidedly perfect breasts if the rumors are anything to go by. Boys love her. However, they love anyone who will sleep with them on command as Brieanon will. It’s rumored that she’s even gotten that seventh year Slytherin, Draco Malfoy, to spend a night in her bed, but I, for one, want proof before I believe it. Draco looks at no girl except Hermione Granger, and even then, it’s only because he hates her, and loves to push her in the hallways and call her “Potter’s filthy mudblood”. I saw his eyes once when he looked at her during one of their squabbles, and the hatred seemed to pour out of them. There is some serious bad blood between them. I seriously doubt that Brieanon’s ever even talked to Malfoy, much less slept with him. I generally try to avoid talking to Brieanon, and as she seems to despise talking to me, I’m pretty successful at it.
The last girl in my room, who sleeps in the bed on the other side of Brieanon’s, and next to the door, is named Francesca Johnson. She’s Angelina Johnson’s younger sister, and a damn good Quidditch player. She’s a carbon copy of her sister, and, she’s my brother Ron’s girlfriend. I was so surprised when he asked her out at the end of last year. She was delighted, as she’s been in love with Ron since our second year, but I had been convinced that Ron liked Hermione. I was so wrong, which is unusual, and I found out what was really going on when I spent last summer with Ron and Hermione and Harry. Hermione is my best friend, and I knew that she liked Harry, but I never asked her about it. She’s really private when it comes to boys and her feelings for Ron and Harry. However, when I caught them snogging in my old treehouse I realized that there was something else going on, and I talked to Ron about it. He laughed and said that they’d been together since that previous Christmas but hadn’t told anyone because they were in the spotlight enough as it was. I guess I agree with their decision, but it sure was a surprise, and Ron told me that he’d had a crush on Francesca ever since Fred’s girlfriend had come to a family picnic in the summer after fifth year and had had to bring Francesca along. I wonder why I didn’t see it coming. They were hopelessly flirting the entire time, Francesca completely ignoring me. She is a very sweet girl, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we end up being sisters-in-law, but we’ve never been all that close. Her side of the conversation is always about Ron, and I generally like to talk about things other than my brother. But, as I said, she is a nice girl, and she is the one that I am closest to out of all of the girls in this room.
I look once more at all of the sleeping girls, and then I look at the door which is directly in front of my bed, the middle bed. It is so tempting, but it is after curfew. But then again, when have I ever obeyed rules in this place? Besides, if they had wanted me to follow rules and stay inside the Gryffindor tower after curfew, then why did they make Hermione Head Girl? It’s just inviting me to break the rules. They really should know better.
I smile to myself and jump out of bed. I’ll go to Hermione’s room. She’ll still be up, and if Harry’s there, I’ll shoe him out. He can sleep in his own room for once. I grab a change of clothes, sneak up into the boys dormitory. Harry’s in bed. I am quite shocked. This is, however, the break of luck that I was hoping for. I can use his invisibility cloak. I quietly rummage through his trunk until I find it lying at the bottom. I swing it over my small form and exit the dormitory and then the tower.
This castle is so quiet and peaceful at night. This is my favorite time to roam the halls, and when I get the chance to use Harry’s cloak, I do. It’s amazing the interesting things that you see when no one thinks that you are looking. I laugh to myself as memories come flooding into my head, and then quickly stifle it because I know that Mrs. Norris is bound to hear everything in this castle. She positively loves to prowl around the Gryffindor Tower. She is prejudiced against us, I am sure of it.
The Head Boy’s Room is behind the painting of Godric Gryffindor and Salazar Slytherin that I am passing, and I know from instinct, not the power of sight in this darkened hall, that the girls room, located behind a painting of Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff is not for ahead.
I hear a noise behind me and freeze. I slowly turn to see if Mrs. Norris is following me. I am stunned to see Head Boy Draco Malfoy limping towards the portrait of the two Hogwarts founders that were male as fast as he can. As he gets closer, I can see that he is also clutching his arm, and his face is stained with tears and contorted in a grimace of pain. I feel a pang of sympathy rush through my body despite my feelings for the boy, and gasp in shock as his right leg gives out and he collapses to the ground with a sharp cry of pain.
I hear Mrs. Norris mewing from around the corner of this hallway, obviously coming to inspect, and Draco’s head shoots up - in fear of getting caught, I suppose - and he tries desperately to scramble towards the portrait and not make any noise.
“Shit,” he whispers. I can see that he is making no progress whatsoever. I find myself moving in his direction despite myself, and I cover him with the cloak as I kneel beside him. His face is a mask of complete and utter surprise, and he whispers “shit, Ginny!” I smile and make the no noise sign as Mrs. Norris rounds the corner, followed by Filch. He glances around, and they advance towards us. I hold my breath as they pass perilously close to us, and my insides shake with relief as Filch’s foot passes within a centimeter of Draco’s bad leg, missing it. We wait in silence as the duo passes around the corner, and then I back away from Draco before he asks any questions, desperate to get to Hermione’s room, and avoid any confrontations. He looks very confused as the cloak falls to surround just me as I back away from him, and he even looks a little sad. I turn to leave and see him grabbing the air as I move away.
“Ginny.” I freeze at the sound of my name. The way he said it. He’s asking for help. I can tell that he has seldom been in this position. I lower the cloak to my shoulders so that my head and neck are visible. He looks relieved that he is no longer talking to air, but in my own opinion, I think that it’s weirder to talk to a head than it is to talk to no one.
“Please, Ginny, help me into my room?” He is obviously not acquainted with the task of asking people for help, and now I’m wondering, should I really help him? After all of the teasing and tormenting? After his father used me to help bring Lord Voldemort, - no, I am not afraid to say his name - back to power? Why should I help a Malfoy?
“Why?” I voice my thoughts in the quiet hallway. “Why should I help you, of all people, Draco?”
He’s silent for a moment, and I suspect that he’s searching his brain for an answer. I can tell from the still silence that none is readily available. When his eyes meet mine again, they are hard with pain. “Shit, Ginny, I can’t move. Can you please just help me into my room? I promise you that you’ll never have to help me again.”
I consider his offer, and, like before, I am moving towards his side before I even know what is happening. I procure my wand, and mutter the levitation spell, guiding him gently up into the air and through the hallway toward the portrait.
“Buttercup,” he murmurs to the portrait, glancing at me in embarrassment. Buttercup? Buttercup?
“Malfoy, the password is buttercup?” I think that I might fly apart from the laughter spilling out of me. He shoots me a glare that would normally freeze my insides, but tonight does not have the same effect.
“McGonagall made it up, and I haven’t figured out how to change it yet.” He looks angry, but I guess I would too if I were in his position.
The portrait is now open, and I guide him up and inside. I lead him to the bed, and gently lay him down, my heart squeezing unexplainably as I see him grimace and bite down hard at the pain. He lays still and I’m just looking at him, not sure what to do. I don’t want to leave anymore, not with him in the state that he is in.
After a minute of silence, I gently touch the side of his face, moving it so that he is facing me, and I ask, “Draco, what happened?”
He remains silent, just looking back at me. I return the hard stare, but he does not give me an answer to my question. I sigh, and enter the bathroom that is connected to his very large and well-appointed bedroom. I rummage through the medicine cupboards and find the potions and poultices that I need to help him, and I think to myself how bizarre this all is.
I unbutton his black dress shirt gently, so that I don’t aggravate what I think are a couple of broken ribs. I have done much study in medicine and the art of healing. I would very much like to become either and auror or a healer when I graduate.
Draco continues to stare at me while I remove his shirt and slip it out from beneath him. It is really unnerving, I must say. I examine the salve closest to me on the nightstand, and find that it is the one that I need. I gently rub some into his skin, and the corners of my mouth turn up slightly in a weak and strained smile as he seems to relax just a little. I set to work administering the medication to the rest of his bruises, and as I remove his pants, shoes, and socks, I find that there are many more than I expected to find. I wrack my brain, trying desperately to find an explanation for his injuries. How does someone acquire so many? It takes me about an hour to finish applying the salve to every bruise, and then I set to the task of realigning and mending his broken collarbone, wrist, and leg. This takes me about 20 minutes, and by the time that I am finished wrapping and dressing his wounds, the clock on the mantelpiece reads 1:49. I am starting to feel tired now, and I am sure that Hermione will no longer be awake. I glance up at Draco, who is still studying me with that calculating look in his eyes. It makes me even more tired, and I do not fell like I have the strength for the fifteen minute trudge back up to Gryffindor tower.
“You can stay here till the morning.” I glance up, surprised. These are the first words that I’ve heard from him since his plea for help earlier this evening. I do not question him. I not only do not have the energy for leaving left in me, but I think that it would be wise for Draco not to be left alone tonight. I move over towards the soft, inviting leather couch that sits facing the crackling fire.
“Take the bed,” he whispers. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I send him the “Um, yeah, whatever” look. “Stay right where you are. I’ve worked hard to get you all wrapped up, and I’m not going to have you undo all of my work.”
He looks quite surprised that I have not done his bidding for a moment, but then settles back onto the bed leaving me to situate myself on the couch. I drift off to sleep to the sound of his quiet and even breathing around 2:30.
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I wake up early, and look at the clock, 5:30. Damn, only 3 hours of sleep. I am barely going to be able to function today. However, it is Saturday, something for which I silently rejoice. I slowly sit up, stretching out my tired muscles and they protest their lack of rest. My eyes drift over towards the bed, and I see Draco lying asleep, in exactly the same position that he was in when I laid him there earlier this morning. He shivers slightly in his sleep, and I lift the duvet that I have been sleeping under off of the couch and move it onto the bed, covering him and cocooning him into a nest of warmth.
My bag of clothes sits next to the dresser and I tiptoe over to it, picking it up and making my way into the bathroom. I’ll shower, dress, and then tickle the pear down the hallway to collect some food for my patient and myself. I still can’t believe that I’m doing this. I can’t believe that I’m helping a Malfoy. My mind protests but my heart does not. This feels right. If I did not help him it would be going against my nature even though helping someone of his background and reputation goes against my better judgment.
I’m already in the shower before I realize that this might be against the rules. Draco’s rules. But then again, I spent two hours of my time tending to his injuries, he can’t stop me from using his shower if I need it. The girls in my dormitory won’t even notice that I didn’t spend the night. It is customary for me to be up, showered, dressed, and out of the dorm before the even crack an eyelid at 6:30 in the morning. They will naturally assume that I’m just following my normal morning routine.
I finish showering and pull on my clothes and robes. New clothes and robes, courtesy of my now very well off twin brothers, Fred and George Weasley. They helped to buy me an entirely new wardrobe last summer, and so I now have clothes that are actually stylish and fit my steadily growing form. Mum has even begun to forgive them for the spectacle that they caused at school last year because of their massive success. They’ve made major differences to our Burrow, and it’s almost starting to look like a normal home. Actually, it’s starting to look like a rather nice home. Nothing to Malfoy Manner, I’m sure, but I think that it’s beautiful never-the-less.
Draco is still sleeping when I leave the bathroom, thankfully, so I quickly exit his suite of rooms and make my way down the deserted hall towards the portrait that disguises the secret entrance to the kitchens. I tickle the pear and make my way into the massive kitchen chamber. About 100 house elves rush towards me, arms full of offerings of food, and after I take my pick, say thank you, and after I exit the chamber, I make my way back to the portrait that guards Draco’s rooms.
“Buttercup,” I whisper, and the portrait immediately swings open to give me entrance. I carefully lay the food out on the small dark cherry round table that sits to one side of the main room, and make my way to the bathroom once more. I noticed a large bathtub in there earlier, and I turn the water on, pouring a little potion for muscle relaxation and rejuvenation into the water once it is about a quarter of an inch deep.
I hear a noise from the other room, and peek my head out of the door to see that Draco is beginning to return to the world of the living. I collect a terry dressing gown and make my way over to the side of the bed, shaking him gently to finish the process of rousing him. When his eyes open and take survey of the room, he does not seem in the least bit surprised to see me there, and silently lets me help him move off of the bed to one of the elegant chairs that is placed around the table that I laid the food on. He silently refuses the dressing gown that I offer him, so I lay it onto his bed. I sit in the other chair, located directly across from him, and help him fill a plate with some of the offerings available.
I am not unaware of the fact that we do not speak once throughout the entire time that we are eating, and I am certainly not unaware of the fact that he is sitting before me clothed in just his green silk boxer shorts while I am fully dressed. He has a seekers body. I am not to preoccupied with his injuries to not notice this, I just choose not to dwell on it at the present time. Bruises are scattered across every visible part of his body, except for his face, making him a veritable collage of blues, yellows, purples, and greens. My heart goes out to him, despite myself, but still, I say nothing.
He picks at his food, and I give him a remonstrative look, so he reluctantly eats the slices of mango that I have prepared, as well as the croissant with butter and strawberry jam. When I am satisfied that he has eaten as much as he will, I rise from my place opposite him and help him put his good arm around my shoulder, leading him to the bathroom, where I turn off the taps in the tub that I have been carefully surveying for the past ten minutes. I am lucky that it is a big tub, or it would have overflowed halfway through our breakfast. He sits down on the side of the tub and I exit the room, making to close the door behind me, but, catching the small noise of protest that he makes in his throat, I do not, and make my way over to his dresser. I slowly manage to compile an outfit for him to wear, taking much time to find what I am looking for in the many dresser drawers, as I am unfamiliar with the way he arranges his clothing. He is surprisingly neat for a boy of seventeen.
I locate the drawer where he keeps his under things and choose another pair of boxers – black silk ones – and an undershirt to start the outfit. I rummage through the two drawers where he keeps his shirts and pick out silky silver button up one with a slight shimmer to it that looks incredibly comfortable to wear and add it to the pile. A pair of black dress cords that I find in one of his three pants drawers completes the outfit, and I walk into the bathroom to deliver the clothing to him without a second thought as to what I’m doing.
He is situated in the bathtub when I enter, and smiles weakly up at me as I lay that neat pile of clothes on top of the closed toilet. I suspect that he is to weak to be angry or snarky to me. I must admit that it is a nice change to be sure.
“Do you need any help?” I ask quietly, keeping my eyes on his upper half as I settle myself against the side of the sink. With any other person, under any circumstances, this could be a very awkward and embarrassing situation, but I find that there is no discomfort between us.
“I, uh, I can’t-” he stammered and hesitated, his face wrought with unease. He tries in vain to lift his arms higher, and I see the pain unfold across his face in waves. He doesn’t finish his question.
I know what he’s asking, for some reason; it just comes to me, and I know. I move over to his side and reach behind to grab the shampoo. He glances up at me surprised, but I offer no explanation as I begin to massage his scalp gently, letting the silky strands of platinum hair flow through my fingers. His steely gray eyes watch me, studying me again, as I continue my task, but it does not bother me. I am intent upon the chore before me. I cup my hand and gently pick up handful after handful of water to rinse his hair until it is clean, and then I move back to my place on the edge of the sink.
He says nothing, which does not surprise me as he has not said thank-you once since I began helping him. I know that it is not in his upbringing to thank the people who serve him. He sits still, and I sense that he is finished, so I grab a thick and fluffy towel, the kind that I used to dream about having, and set it on the side of the bath.
“Put your boxers on,” I instruct him, “and then call me, and I’ll reapply the bandages and salves.”
He nods, and I leave the bathroom. My eyes automatically wander to the messy bed, so I move over to it, and make it, and for the first time I notice the rich brocade work on the feather duvet that was mine earlier. I straighten out the green satin sheets and fluff the matching pillows before covering the bed with the duvet. It too is green, and the brocade work on it is in silver. I tie back the thick green velvet curtains which were hanging loose last night when we entered, and I stare at the inviting bed. It would be nice to sleep in that bed. I can’t help but appreciate the beauty and obvious level of comfort that the bed offers as I survey it. It is a king size bed, very much like the one in Hermione’s room, but his entire room is done is this dark, rich cherry wood and deep forest greens and light silvers that is so much more appealing to my eyes and senses than the light willow and scarlet and yellow that Hermione’s is done in.
I glance at the clock. Seven. I still have time to finish here before I go to meet with Hermione at 9:30. It’s a Hogsmeade day today, and I have promised, like always, to accompany Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Francesca. I always dread accompanying these four because I feel like the odd one out. I am the odd one out. Harry and Hermione take advantage of the temporary absence from school to devote their attentions entirely to one another, and Ron and Francesca are just as bad. I follow around like a silly little school girl seeking for attention from Famous Harry Potter, Head Girl Hermione, Big Brother Ron, and Best Beater Francesca Johnson. I must seem pathetic to everyone who sees me. The only decent part of this day will be the fact that it is the Grand Opening of the Hogsmeade branch of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes, and Fred and George, the only brother’s in this country that actually take notice of me, will be there. They are legend at this school, mainly because the defied horrible Professor Umbridge and escaped the castle, and every person at this school has been going on about how their shop will be the most amazing thing ever. I have seen so many things with the Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes logo on the back lying around school this year. I’m happy for my brothers. They are finally getting to something that they love without having to deal with our mother’s censure.
I feel a tap on my arm, and jump, surprised at being brought back from my musings. Draco is standing next to me, in his boxer shorts as I told him to be, his skin glistening from the remnants of the water that he had bathed in. He smells musky, and I try desperately to concentrate on the task that I know lays before me.
“I’m ready,” he says, and I motion for him to sit on the bed, and I slowly begin to perform the same procedures that I engaged in the night before. He seems a bit more lucid this time around though, and he gasps and grimaces when I touch particularly large bruises, whereas last night he was completely silent.
“Draco, what happened?” I ask casually, hoping that he will not see how desperate I am to know this information. I glance up at his face as I finish wrapping his wrist, and see that once again, he has no intention of answering my question. I sigh softly, aggravated, and apply healing salve to the last bruise, one that disappears below his boxer line slightly. I rearrange his boxers and sit back, looking at him intently.
Where do we go from here? I have finished everything that needed to be done. I’ve attended to his wounds, I’ve put him to bed, I’ve fed him, bathed him, and attended to his wounds again, and now there is nothing left. Is this the last time that I’ll see him? Will we never speak of this again? A wave of sadness floods through me as what the consequences of that would be. We’ve formed sort of an unspoken connection over the past eight hours since I covered him in that hallway.
“Are you going to Hogsmeade today?” he asks. I look up, surprised to hear the sound of his voice.
I nod, reluctantly. I would rather not go now even though Fred and George will be there. “Yeah, with Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Francesca.” I roll my eyes to let him know exactly how I feel. He says nothing at the mention of the Wonder Trio’s names.
“I hear that your brother’s are opening up a shop in Hogsmeade today.” There is no emotion behind his voice, and I can read none in his face. I nod. He speaks once more. “They seem to be doing extremely well. I visited their store when I was in Diagon Alley last time.”
I am thoroughly shocked. A Malfoy setting foot in a Weasley’s shop? Will wonders never cease? He notices my surprise, and laughs softly until he realizes that with his broken ribs it hurts tremendously.
“Father was not with me,” he offers as way of an explanation. The look on his face when he says the word ‘father’ is one of immense dislike and dissatisfaction, and for the first time since I met Draco, I do not associate him as being ‘one with his father’. “I’m not going to go to Hogsmeade today.”
“I should hope not!” I exclaim, and he looks a little shocked at my outburst. I relax and speak once more. “You are very badly injured and it will take until the end of the day for your broken wrist and leg to completely heal. I have worked very hard to make sure that you are okay, and there is no way that I am letting you out of this room to go scampering about the countryside.”
He looks at me with wonder in his eyes, but says nothing. I think that I might have been the first person to ever tell him exactly what was on my mind. I check the clock once more, and it reads nine. I make my mind up on the decision that I have been pondering for the last half an hour. “I would appreciate it if you stayed in your room today and tried not to move to much. I will return tonight around ten to redress your wounds. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go and find a place where I can get ready for going to Hogsmeade.”
I rise from the bed before he can argue, but stop when I feel his hand gently touch my wrist. “You can use my bathroom, Ginny.”
I glance at him and nod as he motions towards it. I grab my clothing bag once more, and retrieve the small toiletries bag that I stowed in there the night before. I enter the bathroom and spread my makeup on the counter. Using my wand, I wave my hair. Wands are useful for this kind of thing. You can change the style of your hair, making it straight, wavy, curly, whatever you feel like, but it doesn’t change the type of hair that you have. Luckily, I have silky hair, as I was reflecting upon last night. I usually wear it straight, but I feel that waves would do nicely today. I consider changing the color, but those spells are risky, and don’t always work. Besides, the one time that I managed to change my hair to blonde, it looked horrible. With my complexion and freckles, red is the only color that works. I take a little butterfly barrette out of my makeup kit and, after parting my hair in a zigzag part off to the side, I clip the top half of it back, leaving long wisps of wavy hair to surround my face. Satisfied as I can be with my hair, I dust a light layer of shimmery green eye shadow on my eyelids which brings out the green in my eyes, and swipe some lip gloss on my lips called ‘Pink Pout”. It’s a very natural look, but one that I favor. I study myself in the mirror. The classy, silky black dress pants that flare slightly at the bottom are not tight, a style that I despise, and they are held up by a simple silver belt. On my top half I am wearing a simple long sleeved black V-neck top that does not draw attention to my chest, but flatters my upper body. I do not like to dress flashily, and most of my new wardrobe consists of outfits like this one. I favor black, and I love long, flowy pants.
As I finish studying myself in the mirror, I notice in the reflection that he is also studying me. The expression on his face is unreadable, so I quickly look away and pack up my supplies, but on impulse, I leave them on the back corner of the counter instead of putting them back in my satchel. I collect my jet black with the Gryffindor emblem on it that I had deposited on the back of the couch earlier and turn towards the door.
I am just about to open it when his voice calls out my name. I turn and look at him expectantly.
“I’ll be waiting,” he mumbles. I smile slightly and leave the room, my grin growing wider when I am no longer facing him, knowing that this promise is more of a thanks than I could ever have received from a Malfoy.
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“Ginny,” Hermione calls happily as I spot her and Harry waiting for me in the entrance hall. I smile involuntarily as I see my best friend rushing towards me, her boyfriend following fast behind her. She sweeps me into a hug, and I feel all of my conflicting feelings disappear in the glow of her happiness. I was a little late getting down here because I returned Harry’s invisibility cloak to his trunk before I met my friends. Harry winks at me, and I know that my secret romps of the castle are safe with him. He’s not going to tell anyone. “You look gorgeous, sweetheart, I love your hair wavy like that.”
“I thought that I’d try it like this for once,” I reply to Hermione, fingering the end of a chunk of my long hair. I can’t deny to myself the fact that I was unnaturally pleased with my appearance earlier this morning.
“I’m going to see if I can find Ron and Francesca,” Hermione says, glancing quickly around the fast emptying entrance hall. “I bet that they’re in that empty classroom again. Harry, stay her with Gin, while I go.” Before Harry and I can reply, she has disappeared down a connecting hallway, and I am left standing companionably with Harry, who has his arm slung around my shoulder. I am so grateful that my crush on him ended a couple of years ago. He his my big brother now, and I love him dearly. To still have a crush on him when he and my best friend will probably announcing their engagement or something any day now would be so awkward and embarrassing.
He sniffs my hair, and looks at me askance. “You smell like cologne, Gin-bug.”
I chuckle at his use of the nickname that he made up for me last year. He is the only person that I allow to use it. “Must be because I spend so much time around you.” I slip my arms around his waist and hug him, making silly kissy lips. He laughs, but gives me a look that clearly states that I am not getting out of the conversation that easily.
I am saved from more interrogation by the return of Hermione. She looks slightly pink and embarrassed and slips under Harry’s other arm. “I don’t think that they’re coming with us.”
Harry sticks out his tongue in disgust, and I laugh along with Hermione as we move towards the door.
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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!
Rosanna Kerr Normal Rosanna Kerr 1 0 2003-07-15T05:17:00Z 2003-07-15T05:17:00Z 9 4186 17165 350 67 29306 9.3821
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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!
Rosanna Kerr Normal Rosanna Kerr 3 12 2003-07-17T05:27:00Z 2003-07-18T03:31:00Z 5 2722 15520 129 31 19059 9.3821
Chapter 3
Hurt Loves
Aravaeya
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Disclaimer: I own none of this, and I don’t need to make any money off of this as I have enough of my own. J
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I am understandably silent at our late dinner, having spent my entire afternoon reflecting on the events at hand while sitting by the gently lapping lake. Hermione chatters away happily to Ron, Francesca, Neville, Seamus, and all the rest of our other Gryffindor friends, Harry sitting behind her with his arms around her waist. I am part of their group, but I do not offer my opinions on anything, content to just listen and be silent. I let my eyes wander over to the Slytherin table, and I do not see Draco there. I hope that he is still in his rooms. He shouldn’t be moving around to freely yet, and as it is almost 10:00, I want him to be there when I get there after dinner. I see Crabbe and Goyle gorging themselves with food, and my mind automatically recalls what Draco said about him not being able to associate with them anymore. I wonder what happened. I think that I’ll have to ask Draco about it when I see him next.
Harry’s eyes wander to me occasionally, studying me intently. I know that he wants to know where I’ve been, what I’ve been doing, and why his invisibility cloak hasn’t been returned to him yet, but I do not feel ready to answer him. I am so confused myself, and I do not know what to think about what I have been doing and what has happened as a result.
I do not regret helping Draco – on the contrary, I am extraordinarily happy that with my help, he has recovered as well as he has. I am confused about what I am feeling towards Draco. I first helped him out of compassion for a fellow schoolmate, a fellow human being, but now, I help him because I want to be around him. I want to know him. His thoughts, his feelings, his story – I want to know it all.
I also know what my parents and brothers would think if they knew that I had spent the night in Draco’s bed, and that he had kissed me, if only for a millisecond. I know that they would be unhappy, disappointed, and Ron would be absolutely livid, but yet, I want to be there again. I don’t want anything – physically intimate are the only words I can think of – yet, but I like that I can be a little freer with him. I want him to talk to me about what he’s going through. I want to be able to watch over him in the night. I want to be allowed to care for him. I want to see him in his damn boxers again! And I want to see him in them when he’s not all bruised and broken. When he’s not being abused. When he’s not hurt. I sigh. When he’s not hurt…
“Ginny!” I glance up, surprised at the hand that I see waving itself in front of my face. As my eyes come back into focus, I realize that it is Hermione calling me.
“Umm?” I murmur, embarrassed that everyone else around me is looking at me as if I have four heads and a dragon’s tail sprouting out of my arse.
“What happened to you?” Hermione asks, laying the back of her hand on my forehead. I’m all flushed, and I know it. Thinking of Draco Malfoy in his boxer shorts will do that to you. And I do feel a little sick anyways. “You feel really hot. Maybe you should go and see Madam Pomfrey.”
I nod, glad to have an excuse to leave the table handed to me like that. “Yeah, I haven’t been feeling to well lately, I think I will go.” I smile weakly at my friend, and see Harry’s face over her shoulder, looking at me with a sorrowful look on it.
“Good,” Hermione says, and I get up from the table and begin to walk away, glad for the escape, glad that now I can go and see Draco.
“Wait, Gin, I’ll take you there.” I turn to see Harry rising from the table, coming towards me, a nervous smile playing on his face. I smile back so that I will not seem ungrateful, and sigh softly in exasperation as he takes my arm and leads me through the Great Hall.
When we leave the Great Hall I stop in the entranceway, pulling away from him and turning to face him. “If this is about yesterday-”
“It’s not, Ginny,” he says quickly, and I become quite, waiting for him to explain himself. “Actually, it kind of is-” I begin to feel anger rising within me. “but not in the way you think, Gin.”
“Enlighten me,” I demand. I can’t help but feel bad for snapping at him, but I really don’t know what’s come over me.
“I want to apologize for accusing you of sleeping with Malfoy,” he says, true regret shining in his eyes. “It was wrong of me, and I jumped to the wrong conclusions, and I’m sorry. I just thought that you were making a big mistake, and I don’t want to see you hurt like that, Gin. I love you as if you were my own sister, and to see you chewed up and spite out by Draco Malfoy would kill me inside. I know that you said that you weren’t with Draco, and I believe you, but I jumped to conclusions, and my mind ran away with me. I thought that Draco was using you, and I would kill him before I let that happen.”
I smile gently at him, letting him know that I’m not preparing another snapfest. I grasp his hand and lead him down one of the relatively deserted side corridors to a small alcove with a bench. I sit down and motion for him to do the same, which he does.
“Harry, I am going to tell you something in the strictest confidence. You can tell no one, not even Hermione. Do you solemnly swear to keep this a secret?” I look at him pointedly, and he nods earnestly. “I was with Malfoy.” He starts to look a little angry but I hold up my hand, willing him to stay quiet and hear me out. “I was not sleeping with Malfoy. I was helping him.”
“Helping him?” Harry questions, and I nod in reply.
“I found him the other night, badly hurt, and I have been sneaking off at night to help him with the medicines and salves that he needs for his injuries,” I explain. He looks at me, intrigued I can tell, wanting to know more, but I have resolved that this is all that I will tell him. It is what he needs to know to stop questioning me, and not enough that he will start assuming other things about our relationship. I do not want to betray Draco’s confidence, although he did not swear me to secrecy, and I will not tell Harry the details of his injuries and how he acquired them.
“What happened?” Harry asks, halfway concerned that a fellow wizard is hurt, and halfway eager to find out what has happened to his arch rival.
I smile kindly and take one of Harry’s hands in my own, patting in gently to reassure him. “I can’t tell you anymore, but you can stop worrying about me now, okay?”
He looks a little disappointed that he has gained no more information, so I wrap my arms around him and hug him tightly. He slowly puts his own arms around me and squeezes me strongly.
“I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you, Gin-bug,” he whispers slowly, kissing the top of my head softly, “It would tear me apart. Be careful with him.”
“I will,” I reassure him, hugging him tighter. “Don’t you worry about me, Har.”
“I love you, Gin,” he whispers, pulling back slightly to make sure that I see the sincerity in his eyes.
“And I love you too, Harry,” I say, smiling at him reassuringly, letting him know that all is forgiven. “If I didn’t have you as a big brother, I’m not sure what I’d do.”
He suddenly looks immensely happy, as if I have just given him the best birthday in the world.
“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a patient to see.”
He smiles, no protest in his eyes, and I lean forward and give him a soft kiss on the cheek before I make my way back into the main area of the castle.
~~)~*~(~~
“Draco?” I whisper as I enter his suite of rooms. I hear no reply and I cautiously make my way further into the main room. It is empty. My heart races with fear. Where is he? I did not see him downstairs at dinner. What if his father came for him?
Then, I hear the slightest noise which gives me immediate hope. I hear the gentle splash of water and turn towards the bathroom, relieved to see Draco immersed in the tub. His eyes are closed, and I slip my shoes off, tiptoeing into the room. I lean up against the counter and watch him as he lies there, relaxed, with a grin on his face. I’m careful to let my gaze focus on the upper half of his body, and not the lower, which is fuzzy with the lapping of the water and the bubbles of soap. I am content to sit here and drink my fill of his beautiful physique while he doesn’t know that I’m here.
“Enjoying the show?” He smirks, cracking open one eye and glancing towards me.
I gasp in shock and quickly turn red. “Draco! How did you know I was here?”
“I’m pretty adept at hearing even the smallest of sounds, and I heard you enter my rooms,” he says, opening the other eye and leaning his chin on the side of the tub to look up at me. I gently lower myself so that I am kneeling on the floor next to him, my eyes level with his. He grins his trademark half-smile, and I grin back. “I’m glad you came, Ginny. I was almost afraid that you wouldn’t come.”
“Of course I came, Draco. I told you that I would.” I reply, watching him carefully. We just watch each other for a couple of moments. “How are you feeling?”
He gives me a thumbs up sign with one hand and a thumbs down sign with the other, grinning slightly. “I think the question should be, how are you feeling, Ginny? You look a little pale.”
I sigh and lean against the side of the tub, wiping the sweat from my brow. I have been feeling quite lightheaded and queasy for the last few minutes, which was part of the reason that I joined him on ground level. I shrug, not meeting his eyes. He sighs, and I hear him splashing around a little more.
“Can you pass me a towel?” he asks, and I slowly lift myself off of the floor, feeling a little more dizzy as I do so, and hand him the towel closest to me. He smiles appreciatively and I sag down against the sink as he gets out of the bath. It doesn’t even occur to me for a second that he was just completely naked in front of me. I’m just suddenly feeling to sick to care about anything, and I dive for the toilet as I feel what little I have eaten today, most of it remaining from our brunch, heave itself up and out of my tired, achy body. I gasp for air and clutch the sides of the porcelain basin so hard that my hands turn completely white. As another round announces itself, I feel him pull back my hair with one hand and gently rub circles on my back with the other. His tenderness helps to relax me, and slowly I start to regain control over my stomach.
We sit there until my sickness passes, and when I am finally convinced that it is over, I relax away from the toilet into the side of the bathroom counter.
“Are you okay?” Draco asks, and I nod my head weakly, embarrassed, looking up at him with a grateful smile. “What happened?”
“I don’t know,” I say wearily, “It was so sudden. But I’ve been feeling dizzy and a little nauseous since dinner time. I think I need some sleep.”
He looks like he’s sorry for something, and I throw him a questioning glance.
“I’ve kept you up far to long these past couple of nights,” he says, “You should go back to Gryffindor Tower and leave me be. I’ll do just fine.”
I vehemently shake my head. “I don’t want to go to Gryffindor Tower, Draco, I want to be here. I want to be right here.”
He looks surprised, but says nothing in reply. He offers me his good hand to help me regain my footing, and I gradually rise from the floor to a standing position. I still feel weak and we put our arms around each others shoulders for support as we hobble out into the main room.
I can tell that his broken ankle is still not completely healed yet because he is wincing every time that he steps down on it. I nudge him towards the bed while I stop at his dresser, grabbing a pair of red boxers and a black t-shirt from the draws that I am not familiar with. I make my way over to the bed where he is sitting and give him the clothing. He points to my satchel, which holds my pajamas from last night, sitting behind him on the duvet. I grab it and move over to the other side of the bed. We change quickly, neither one of us looking at the other out of respect for the others’ privacy. When we are both finished, I pull back the covers, and motion for him to situate himself comfortably on his side of the bed, which he does. I climb up next to him and lean over him to access the nightstand, grabbing the few bottles and bandages that I need to finish my work.
Despite his protests, I quickly re-wrap his damaged ankle and apply the healing salve to the rest of the bruises that remain, namely, the large one on his lower abdomen, and a couple of large ones on his upper chest. I gently prod his collarbone and find that it has healed nicely, being the least damaged of the bones that were broken. I test his wrist and see that it too has come along quite nicely, even though Draco still winces a little when I bend it, and says that there is still some pain.
I’m starting to feel dizzy again, and Draco says that I’m starting to turn pale as well, and he insists that I lie down, so I do. I breath in and out deeply, and I feel my insides start to settle.
The clock on the mantle chimes twelve midnight, and Draco mutters the charm to extinguish the lights.
“Do you mind?” I ask, motioning to the bed and then to myself. He smiles soothingly and lifts the covers so that they are surrounding me in a nest of warmth and comfort. I am surprised at his tenderness, but I do not argue, feeling myself slip into the realm of the subconscious.
The last thing that I feel before losing myself to slumber is Draco scooting up close to me so that our foreheads are almost touching, and so that his warm steady breathing lulls me into a peaceful sleep.
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“Wake up, Ginny.”
I hear a voice whispering to me gently, and as I reluctantly open my eyes to let in the morning light, I see Draco, sitting beside me in the bed, leaning over me.
“W-what?” I stutter, not wanting to wake up this early. “Draco? What time is it?”
“Seven thirty,” he replies.
“I don’t have class till nine thirty and it only takes me an hour to get ready,” I mumble, closing my eyes once more.
I feel him relax back into the mattress next to me, and suddenly the awkwardness of this situation hits me. I’m sleeping in Draco’s bed for the second night, and I’ve practically lived here for three days. What is happening to me?
“What?” Draco asks, turning on his side so that he is facing me.
“Huh?” I murmur ineloquently, struck by the utter sexiness of his ruffled bedhead hair and sleepy looking eyes. My own eyes drift down to his lips, and our brief kiss of the day before fills my memory. Glancing back up to look in his eyes, I can sense that the same thing is running through his head too.
“Ginny,” he says softly.
“Umm?” I reply, the soft noise rumbling from the bottom of my throat.
“Do you feel uncomfortable with this?” he asks, motioning in between us and at the bed.
I shake my head. “No.”
“I’m glad,” he replies, and I raise my eyebrows, eager to know his meaning, but he does not offer an explanation. I watch as he slowly leans his head in once more, tilting it so that he can access my own face better, and I close my eyes in anticipation. His lips brush against my own, and I relax a little, lifting my head slightly so that they brush again, and then again. I play with a couple of strands of his velvety hair as our lips touch again, a little less softly than before. I feel his warm soft palm against my cheek, and I feel him whisper my name against my forehead, and I open my eyes to find them just an inch or two from his own.
“I’ve never done this before,” he whispers, and my eyes widen in absolute surprise.
“You’ve never kissed a girl before?” I ask, and he shakes his head, a sheepish look flashing across his face. Wow. The great and popular Slytherin king, Mr. Draco Malfoy, has never kissed a girl before.
“Well, don’t worry,” I reassure him, “I’ve never kissed a boy before either. We don’t have to rush this.”
He looks rather surprised at my confession, because last year Seamus and I were quite a well-known Gryffindor couple.
I pull away from him, giving him a kind smile of reassurance, and slip out of the bed.
He smiles back and gets out of the bed as well. “Are you feeling better this morning?”
“Yeah, Draco, I am, thank you.” I search around for my satchel only to realize that I don’t have any clean clothes with me. I glance back up at him with a thoughtful look, wondering how I am going to acquire a school uniform.
Draco seems to realize what I am looking for and hobbles over to his dresser, reaching into the topmost right-hand drawer, one that I’ve never searched before. He pulls out an outfit that I recognize as being the one that I wore here on Friday, the one that he had in with his soiled laundry. He hands it to me with a worried smile, and I check it through, making sure that I have everything that I need. The uniform is complete and I shoot him a weary smile and make my way into the bathroom where I proceed to run a hot bath with some bubbles that I found in the bottom of the medicine cabinet. I undress, tossing my things into the laundry, and slowly sink into the steaming water, my muscles aching quite painfully. I relax into the water and stretch out as much as I can, resting my head against the end of the elegant tub, eyes closing in bliss.
I just lay there, letting the hot water work it’s magic when I hear a slight movement in the room.
“Enjoying the show?” I smirk, cracking open an eye to see Draco sitting beside the tub as I was last night.
“Oh, very much thank you,” he replies smartly, but I can see the tenderness in his eyes. His expressions towards me have changed so remarkably over the last few days. He used to look at me with no expression at all, or with one of hatred, loathing, and anger and now, when he looks at me, I see tenderness and care in his eyes, it makes my heart flutter in anticipation of what will come.
I relax into the water once more, letting my eyes slip shut, letting him watch my face, the only part of me not shrouded in bubbles. I suddenly feel a warm trickle of water run down the side of my neck, and open my eyes to see Draco pouring it gently over my head from a large ivory water jug. I sigh softly as he takes the shampoo and massages my head as I did for him previously, relaxing me even more. I’ve never had anybody else wash my hair before.
He leans down towards me and presses a gentle kiss to the corner of my eye, and I think to myself how easily I could get used to this…
Used to long baths in the morning. Used to waking up next to someone in a large cozy bed. Used to someone lavishing affection on me. Used to falling in love…
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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!
Hurt Loves
Aravaeya
Chapter 4
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Disclaimer: I own none of this, and I don’t need to make any money off of this as I have enough of my own. J
I am profoundly sorry for the lack of updates. I really am!
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My mind is clouded, and I am very confused as I attend my classes. After leaving the intensely electric atmosphere of Draco’s rooms this morning to go to Transfiguration, I realized, for the first time, the impact these nightly escapades are having on me. Falling for Draco Malfoy? What rational, level-headed, academic, obedient, walking-in the right, well-behaved type of girl would let herself even consider it? I can’t believe that I even entertained the thought of starting something between us! Falling in love? With a Malfoy? A dirty, pureblood, future Death Eater Malfoy? So what if he told me some shit about not wanting to become a Death Eater? He probably has an ulterior motive! This was the boy that made my life horrible in my fourth year! This was the boy that I hexed with bat bogey curse in Umbridge’s office! How can I overlook that, even if he does seem to have changed a bit? Am I crazy? Bonkers? Without a shred of sense? Absolutely stark raving mad? Sweet Merlin I am mad! He’s probably stringing me along, having fun trying to get the good little Gryffindor into his dirty Slytherin pants! My stomach starts to churn extremely painfully.
“Miss Weasley!”
I look up in shock to see Professor McGonagall standing directly in front of my desk, wand out, and a very disapproving look on her face. I didn’t even notice her walk up. Hell, I didn’t even hear a single word that she’s said in the past fifteen minutes! What’s wrong with me? When have I ever lost it like this before? Not even Tom Riddle made me this much of an emotionally distressed wreck!
“Y-yes?” I manage to stutter out. I hate confrontations with teachers, especially with McGonagall, as she is my favorite teacher, as well as the head of my house.
“Are you feeling ill, Virginia?” she asks sternly, “Or are you not paying attention in my class on purpose?”
I swallow, suddenly feeling as if I desperately need some fresh air. “I am feeling quite ill. I’m sorry, Professor McGonagall.” I take a deep breath, attempting to calm my stomach.
Her face immediately softens. “Francesca, help Miss Weasley to Madam Pomfrey’s, please. Miss Bennet will catch you up when you return.”
Francesca immediately appears by my side, and helps me up from my seat next to Carson Underfly, an odd sort of boy who is a remarkably intelligent fifth year promoted to our class. He looks at me as if I am a pile of filth and scoots farther away. I scowl at him and then put my things away in my book bag as Francesca helps me slowly walk out of the room.
She looks at me sympathetically as we walk towards the hospital wing, and I know that I am paler than usual. I have found in my sixteen years of living that when I am in great emotional distress then I tend to make myself sick, which is probably the reason that I was sick the other night when I was with – Draco. I feel myself pale a little more as I think his name, and suddenly my stomach churns and I break away from Francesca, running purposefully into the girls’ bathroom that we passed a few yards back.
I repeat my performance of the night before, only this time it is Francesca is behind me, soothing me with gentle words, and gently brushing my hair away from my face, holding in a large ponytail of straight red hair.
“It’s all right Gin,” she whispers, rubbing a gentle circle into my back. “I’m here for you.”
I hang my head and take in deep breaths as I feel the last wave of sickness subside. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” she replies, giving me a comforting smile. “Now, shall we get up to Madam Pomfrey’s?”
I nod, and with her help to lift myself up off of the floor, we are on our way once more.
Once inside the relatively empty hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey attends to me with her usual efficiency, hustling Francesca back to class, and administering a potion which immediately calms my tumultuous stomach, and one which she says will bring to me the sleep which I desperately need. She says that I am sleep deprived, and am driving myself into a state of exhaustion. Gee, I wonder why. She tells me to lie down until I feel completely rested and stable, and I do without question, lacking the energy to resist after that little stint in the bathroom, slowing letting my eyes drift close.
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I feel a hand gently squeeze mine, and I painfully crack open an eye to see Hermione seated beside me, smiling at my response to her stimulus.
“Hey sleepy,” she says, and I grin sleepily, opening the other eye. “How are you feeling?”
“Better now,” I reply, pushing myself up into a sleeping position. “How long-?”
“It’s Tuesday lunchtime,” she replies to my unfinished but quite obvious question, trying to hide a smile.
“Tuesday!” I exclaim in disbelief. I slept through the entire night? Good grief! “ No wonder I have to pee!”
Hermione laughs and I find myself laughing too but stop quickly as I realize that it increases the pressure on my bladder. Hermione senses my problem, and helps me out of bed and to the lav where I quickly relieve myself.
Once back in my bed she produces a small wrapped gift from her pocket and hands it to me. I look up at her, surprised, but she motions for me to open it. “I bought these when we were in Hogsmeade, and, um, I’d like for you to have one if you want to. It’s kind of a ‘get well soon’ present too, I suppose.”
Once I have the wrapping paper off, I see that the box inside is a medium sized jewelry box, and I open it. Inside are two necklaces that, when fit together, make a silver unicorn with a slightly jagged part down the middle, the place where they separate. On the head and upper body the word ‘best’ is engraved, and on the bottom half and tail is the word ‘friends’. They are absolutely beautiful, and I look up at Hermione with wonder in my eyes. “You bought these for us?”
She nods, looking relieved that I like them. “Choose which side you want.”
I point to the top half and she nods, so I pick it up and fasten it around my neck. She follows my lead and does the same with the bottom half. “Thank you, Hermione. They’re beautiful, really, they are.” I lean out of the bed to give my best friend a long, warm, comforting hug. I cherish the time I spend with Hermione. She’s a true rock of stability.
She smiles at me warmly. “You’re my best friend Ginny, and you deserve the best.”
I look up into her smiling face and feel happy, rested, calm, and whole for the first time since I saw – Draco. I feel my merry spirit deaden a bit at my first thought of his name since I fell asleep, but I try not to dwell on it. I’ll never get over him unless I find other things to occupy my time and energy. I have the sudden urge to take a nice long walk around the Hogwart’s grounds, and neither Hermione or I have afternoon classes on Tuesdays. “Let’s go for a walk.”
She immediately agrees and goes off to get Madam Pomfrey as I slip into the set of clothes that she’s bought me, a black turtleneck, and a pair of black jeans.
She returns with the nurse, and after proclaiming me as healthy as she can get me, I am free to go.
“Is your cloak in your dorm room?” Hermione asks as we exit the hospital wing. “It’s quite chilly outside, it’s snowing, so you’ll need it, as well as gloves, a hat, and your scarf. I promised Madam Pomfrey that I would not get you sick again.” She smiles at me warmly and I smile back.
“Yeah, I think so,” I reply, not quite remembering exactly where I put it.
We chat on the way up to Gryffindor Tower, passing Harry, who was on his way out of the Tower and going to practice Quidditch with Ron. He quickly smiled at us and congratulated me on feeling better, and then we hurried to collect our outerwear.
As we make our way back out of the castle, we bundle up against the cold air that we know is coming, and by the time we reach the Entrance Hall, we are ready. We link arms like we always do on our walks, and make our way out into the shimmery white world of Hogwarts covered in snow.
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We sit beside the Hogwart’s Lake, just gazing out over its incredible beauty as the reflecting sun plays colors along its surface. The snow has long since vanished, leaving the grounds of Hogwarts covered in a beautiful, thick blanket of powdery whit snow, untouched and picture perfect.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better, Gin,” Hermione says softly, putting her arm around me and giving me a little squeeze.. I smile and lean my head against her shoulder. “Harry was worried sick about you! You know how much he cares for you. He loves you as if you were his own sister.”
“Does that bother you, Hermione?” I ask, worried about what her reply will be. I’ve often wondered if Harry’s closeness and obviousness affection to me bothers her. She looks at me, puzzled, silently questioning the meaning of my inquiry. “Does the, uh, fact that he’s always hugging me and helping me and stuff bother you?”
She stares blankly at me for a moment before understanding dawns upon her face, and she chuckles. “No it doesn’t, despite what people may think. He loves you like a sister, and I can see that what you feel for him doesn’t undermine the relationship that I have with him. I have no reason to be jealous. In fact, I think that he’s amazingly sweet when he takes care of you like he does. Makes my heart go all warm and fuzzy to see it.” She smiles and hugs me a bit tighter. I feel relief flood through my body and I relax against her, feeling quite tired. I don’t think that the effects of the medicine that Madam Pomfrey gave me has worn off yet.
We sit in a companionable silence that only true best friends can share for a long time, until Hermione has to cast a lighting charm for us to see. A distant flutter of wings brings me back from my near-sleep state, and I sit up straight, rubbing the sleep from my eyes when I see that there’s an eagle owl, black as night, swooping down across the lake towards us.
It lands on my knee and I untie the parchment from the beautiful black bird’s leg, Hermione watching with interest.
I slowly unfold the paper, knowing inside exactly who it is from. Who else at school would own a black eagle owl?
You didn’t come
Those are the only words written on the small piece of parchment, and I feel my heart do a somersault and my stomach lurch painfully at the sight of the words.
Hermione reads them over my shoulder and makes a puzzled sort of snorting noise. She nudges my arm and looks at me in unguarded curiosity. “Who’s it from, Ginny?”
I shrug, not ready to tell her just yet about my escapades to Draco’s suite of rooms. She would probably have a heart attack. I think that she honestly does hate him more than Harry does, and Harry’s complete and utter loathing of the blonde Slytherin is pretty hard to match. I do not want to imagine her reaction if I ever decide to tell her. “I have no idea. Must have been meant for someone else. Never can trust hawks. Better to stick to owls.”
I chuckle softly and hope that she can’t tell that I’m lying. I just don’t think that I can tell her the truth yet. She laughs along with me and although I can tell that she’s not sure whether I am telling the truth or not, she asks me no further questions, something for which I am immensely grateful.
The sun finally slips beneath the horizon, and I yawn widely, unable to battle the wave of tiredness. She sighs beside me and starts to get up, pulling me up along with her.
“Where are we going?” I ask, glad that she’s asking no more questions about my message from Draco.
“Dinner, silly!” She laughs as she shows me her muggle watch. It’s almost 8:00 and it will undoubtedly take us at least another half an hour to get back to the castle, especially with me in this slowed down, worn out, tired state that I’m in.
We start our trek back with the moon glittering peacefully on the surface of the lake, and with the bright twinkly lights of the castle guiding us on our way home.
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PART TWO
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I am feeling much more like my usual self at dinner tonight, although I am quite tired, and I join in the fervent conversations for the first time since I started helping Draco. Francesca smiles warmly at me, leaning over the table to slip something in my hand. I look down at the pretty purple envelope in my hand and then look back up at her surprised. She smiles wider.
“Open it,” she mouths, and I gently pull the top of the envelope off of it’s sealant as everyone else continues the conversation about the Valentine’s Ball, coming in just three weeks.
Inside the envelope is a card, and I pull it out, smiling at the picture of the beautiful English garden that adorns the front. I open the card and read what is written inside.
Dear Ginny,
I am so glad that you are feeling better and are out of the hospital wing. Ron was positively sick with worry, and so were Hermione and Harry. I really thought that they were going to die from anxiety when they heard that you were in the hospital wing, especially Harry. He really cares for you.J
I missed having you in the dorm with us when I fell asleep last night, and I arranged for you to have this little present as a ‘glad you’re better’ sort of thing. It’s from Ron, Dean, Seamus, and Neville too.
Love always,
‘Cesca
I smile, my heart warming at her concern and at the concern of the others. I feel something else inside the envelope and slip my hand back inside, pulling out a small slip of paper.
10 Galleons
towards your next purchase
at
Flourish & Blotts Bookstore
My mind spins in delight. Ten whole galleons! I can buy the ‘Basic Guide to the Art of Healing’ by Healer Heralda Hersimos, Head Healer at St. Mungo’s! I’ve wanted it for so long!
I smile happily, and lean over the table to give Francesca a big hug, which inadvertently affords me my first view of the Slytherin table. My eyes immediately fall upon a head covered with platinum blonde hair, facing away from me. He’s sitting alone, away from the hustle and bustle and excited chatter of the rest of table, and I can’t help but to let my eyes linger on him for a moment. My hearts clenches painfully at the sight of it. It’s as though he can feel my eyes on him, because he turns around, and before I can sit back down behind the barrier that is Francesca and Ron, his eyes have caught mine. They look as if they’re questioning me, asking me what’s going on. Why am I abandoning him? Why am I avoiding him? Why didn’t come..
I close my eyes and sit down resolutely, willing myself to not be charmed back to his quarters. I do not want to get involved with him! To much is at risk!
I almost manage to convince myself.
I turn back to my dinner but find that I have no appetite, and Harry, always the observant big brother, notices my slightly flushed face and fidgety actions. He whispers something to Hermione, and then comes to sit next to me, slipping his arm around my waist and nudging me with his shoulder.
“Want to go for a walk?” he whispers into my hair.
I smile at him, although I really would rather not go and get caught up in another ‘Draco’ fight, and nod. I can exit the hall and avoid a confrontation with Draco this way. He wouldn’t come up to me when Harry was with me.
We say our goodnights to Ron, Hermione, Francesca, and all of the other Gryffindors that we are close to, and then walk out of the hall arm-in-arm, silent, but not tense. I feel Draco’s eyes on my back the entire length of the walk, and the hairs on my neck start to tingle strangely, wishing that the studious eyes would focus on something else.
“Are you feeling better?” Harry asks softly, tightening his arm so it is securely around my waist, giving me the extra support that I need.
“Just a little tired after my walk with Hermione this afternoon,” I reply, resting my head on his shoulder. I have no idea where we’re going, and I’m not really in the mood to care. I’ll just let Harry take me wherever he wants to go.
“Do you want me to take you back to your dorm room? Go to bed?” he asks, slowing our pace slightly so that I am not as strained.
I shake my head against his shoulder, yawning slightly. “I’ll never be able to get to sleep there. Ingrid and Lena are always talking until late, and Francesca’s always giggling to me over Ron, and Brie’s just loud and obnoxious. I can never get to sleep until they’re all out, and they’ll be awake for another three or four hours at least.”
He purses his lips and nods, changing his direction. I walk along beside him, complacent and quiet. I think that he has decided to put off whatever he wanted to talk to me about until I’m a little bit better and much more lucid.
We’re standing in front of a portion of wall that I recognize, but I can’t quite remember how I know it until Harry opens the door to reveal a luxurious suite of rooms, very much like Draco’s and Hermione’s, but in luscious silvers and golds and scarlets. Of course! My mind clicks into place and I realize that we must be in the Room of Requirement, because it seems like everything in this room is tailored to be perfect for me.
“Go to bed, Gin-bug,” Harry instructs me as he helps me up onto the bed. He walks over to the dresser and grabs a black cotton camisole and some matching boy short panties for me to change into.
“Turn around, Har.” He does, and I quickly change into the provided pajamas. They’re soft and comfortable, almost exactly like a pair that I own in my real room, and I relax onto the bed.
“Are you done yet?”
“Yeah, thanks, I’m done.” Harry turns and moves my dirty robes off of the bed.
He tenderly lifts me up and pulls down the duvet, laying me back down, and tucking me back in. “Love you, Gin-bug.”
“I love you too, Harry, and I’m sorry for the fight about Draco,” I whisper, my eyes tearing up slightly at his obvious care and concern for my well-being. I am lucky to have someone as incredibly special as him as a big brother.
“We’ll take about it another time, okay?” He says. I nod and smile slightly.
He starts to leave and I reach out and grab his wrist, pulling it to my mouth so that I can lay a kiss on his palm. He smiles at me affectionately, and turns his hand in mine so that he is holding my own. He squeezes it gently and tucks a lock of my long red hair behind my ear with his other hand. “Thank you, Harry, for everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
His eyes light up with happiness as they did the last time that I told him that, about how special a big brother he is, and he drops a kiss upon my forehead before leaving.
I relax myself gradually, focusing on one muscle at a time, clearing my mind of all extraneous thoughts, and before long, I feel myself drifting into the land of deep sleep and dreams.
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My eyes drift open and I know, without a doubt, that someone is in my room. I stay still, trying to hear them move, trying to hear them breathe, and I hear nothing. But I know, without a doubt, that someone’s here.
Draco. He must be in my room. I sit up slowly, glancing around, and my eyes fall on a male figure whose head full of flaming red hair is absorbed in a book.
“Ron?” I ask, surprised and relieved that it is not Draco in my room. I am not ready for a confrontation of any sort.
He looks up, a big grin plastered on his face. “Morning, Gin!”
“W-what are you doing here?” I ask, a grin of my own blooming across my face. “How did you know that I was here?”
“Harry told me that he’d brought you here last night when you needed a quiet place to sleep. Thought I’d drop by with some breakfast,” my big brother replies, motioning towards the small, round dining table covered with steaming dishes of food.
I suddenly feel absolutely ravenous and I climb out of bed and make my way over to the table, zeroing in on the large platter of sautéed mushrooms, my absolute favorite breakfast food ever. Ron laughs at my obvious eagerness to eat and joins me at the table, dishing large mounds of food onto his own plate. Ron absolutely loves fried potatoes, and dishes himself up a hearty portion before sitting himself next to me.
“Thanks, Ron,” I say around a mouthful of egg, mushroom, and cheese omelet.
He smiles in reply, and we chat over our private breakfast, sharing a rare moment of sibling bonding. It is unusual for the two of us to ever be alone, and because we are so close in age, we have the same group of friends, so whenever we’re together, we’re always with them.
After we’re finished eating, Ron settles in to finish his Transfiguration essay while I take shower to prepare myself for the upcoming school day, in which I have Potions and Muggle Studies. I enjoy Potions, despite the fact that Snape is the teacher, because I can see how useful it will be if I continue pursuing the field of Healing, but Muggle Studies is something that I’m taking only because Hermione and Dad said that I should. I don’t enjoy it, and it isn’t challenging enough, despite being N.E.W.T. level, to make it interesting. I get full marks on everything without even trying.
“Are you feeling better, Ginny?” Ron asks as I put on my school robes and gather my books. “Truly?”
I stop for a moment, and turn to face him smiling sincerely at him and squeezing his arm in a reassuring manner. “I am much better, Ron. It was like nothing was ever wrong with me. I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“You swear?” He looks genuinely concerned, so I wrap my arms around him in a brief hug.
“I swear!” I assure him, and he smiles at me, taking my bag from me and leading me out of the room.
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The rest of my week passes in a haze of action, what with N.E.W.T. level classes and Quidditch and everything else to do, but I am getting no better. My exhaustion seems be, if anything, worsening. I toss and turn all night long, muttering and sweating and thrashing about wildly (or so I am told). Dreams of Draco haunt me, plaguing what might have been a time of desperately needed rest and relaxation. I fell asleep in Potions, that’s how bored I was.
Indescion infests my mind, and by Friday night I feel positively riddled with guilt over my treatment of Draco. I have completely ignored him. I have deliberately been avoiding him, going out of my way to make sure that I do not meet him in the halls. I have entered and left the Great Hall only when another person is with me so that He can’t corner me, and I have sent his eagle owl empty handed back to him every single one of the times that it has come to me, bearing a letter from it’s master with the same message on it: Come.
I sit in the Charms classroom, watching disinterestedly as the rest of the students file out one by one.
“Miss Weasley?” Professor Flitwick calls out to me from on top of the pile of books that he taught today’s lesson from. I glance up, realizing for the first time that I should have left with the students that I was watching leave. I shake my head out of disgust with myself and grab my book satchel, stalking out of the classroom, angry at the feelings inside of me. I stomp into the Great Hall for dinner, by myself for once, but obviously in such a foul mood that not even Draco would risk approaching me.
Finally, I make my decision. I’ll visit him tonight. Talk to him. Try and figure out what’s going on inside me. I glance over to the Slytherin table, trying to catch a real glimpse of the platinum haired boy who plagues my every thought, and am surprised to not see it. He is always, without fail, in the Great Hall at the same time as me. He waits, I think, so that he can be in there, watching for a chance to catch me and talk to me if I happen to be alone, without my gaggle of Gryffindor guardians.
“Hey, Ginny!” a cheerful voice says from beside me. I shake all thoughts of Draco from my head and glance up at Hermione, who is seating herself next to me. “Good day?”
I give her a lopsided smile, the best that I can muster up at the present moment. “Yeah.”
She smiles and piles up lamb chops on her plate. I watch her as she begins to shovel food into her mouth at an alarmingly fast rate.
“In a hurry, Hermione?” I ask as she opens her mouth so that an exceptionally large and whole new potato will fit inside.
She half grins around her mouthful of food and nods, pointing to the door. “Library.”
My eyes drift back to Draco’s empty spot at the Slytherin table, and my stomach lurches painfully. I look at the door and make my decision.
“I’ll see you later, okay?” I say to Hermione. She nods, and I grab my cloak and leave the Great Hall, passing Harry on the way, and head for Gryffindor Tower.
I supply the Fat Lady with the password, (Liliatona), and casually make my way through the small gathering of people in the common room to the dormitories. I knick Harry’s invisibility cloak and make my way back through the common room and then to the castle library.
I settle myself into a comfy, cushy chair in a corner with a potions book and wait for the time to tick by.
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At ten o’clock, after what’s felt like hours of torture, I put the book that I’ve barely been reading back on the shelf and exit the library just before Madam Pince locks the doors. After moving away from the others exiting along with me and finding a deserted hallway, I slip the invisibility cloak around me and make my way towards Draco’s room once more.
I stand outside for a moment before taking a big breath to stabilize myself, and then I mutter the password. The door swings open and I step inside, shutting it softly behind me.
“Why do you bring me such shame?” I hear a voice roar, and I turn, still unseen because of my cloak, to face the room.
I bite back a cry of rage as I process what I see.
Draco, my Draco, is on the floor, whimpering and tear stained, once more covered in the angriest looking bruises and welts I have ever seen, scrambling as best he can away from a raging Lucius Malfoy
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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!
Hurt Loves
Chapter 5
Aravaeya
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I will say it once more. I am not making money from this. I have enough of my own, so don’t think that I’m writing this for profit. The characters belong to JK Rowling, but the plot is ALL MINE!
And now, onto the story!
By the way, the song that follows is the first verse, chorus, and last chorus of a song that I felt was appropriate for this story, Hero, by Enrique Inglesias.
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Would you dance if asked to dance
Would you run and never look back
Would you cry if you saw me crying
Would you save my soul tonight
Would you tremble if I touched your lips
Would you laugh, oh please tell me this
Would you die for the one you love
Hold me in your arms tonight
I can be your hero baby
I can kiss away the pain
I will stand by you forever
You can take my breath away
I can be your hero
I can kiss away the pain
I will stand by you forever
You can take my breath away
You can take my breath away
I can be your hero
~~)~*~(~~
“Is it so hard to ask you to continue the legacy that I have started? To uphold the family name? Our reputation? I have been preparing for your entry into my Master’s circle from the day that you were born! The least you can do is show that you are grateful for all of the preparations that I’ve made!” Lucius snarls as his belt comes down hard on Draco’s chest. Draco cries out in pain as the metal buckle meets his form with a sickening ‘crack’, and I feel sure that the force behind the swing was enough to cause more broken bones. I arouse from my shocked state as it happens again, Draco’s hiss of pain even louder and more pronounced.
An anger like I’ve never before felt swells inside me, and I can feel myself shaking in unsuppressed rage as I stalk across the room towards the duo, still hidden under my cloak. I trip over a piece of cutlery lying on the floor and make an extra large thump as my other foot lands on the ground, but Lucius is to caught up in his yelling to hear it.
But Draco does. At the sound, he visibly stiffens and looks up, anxiety clearly painted across his face. The look on his faces tells me that he knows I’m there. He watches in realization as I lift a large plate off of the table and get ready to throw it at his father. He cannot see me, but he knows that I’m there, hidden under the cloak, and about to strike his father. He can feel me. He motions wildly, bringing his hand across his throat and shaking his head vigorously, and in between the grimaces of pain that flash across his face every few seconds when the belt strikes him once more, I see him pleading with his eyes – pleading me to put the plate down.
I place the plate on the table once more and Draco relaxes a little, only to be struck once more as his father continues his tirade. I tiptoe over to the edge of the rug that Lucius is standing on, and with all my might, I pull it, causing him to stagger back into the table, impaling his hand with a particularly sharp fork. The string of curses that issues forth from his mouth are enough to make even my brothers cringe, and I wince at the force of them. But is has done the job, his attentions are no longer focused on Draco.
Lucius pulls the fork out of his hand, glances around as if to see who pulled the rug, and turns back to his son, blood dripping from his wounded appendage. “You will be at the manor in two weeks time. I hope that you shall have changed your mind by then.” Lucius spits at an unflinching but cowering Draco one last time before storming out of the room.
Tears begin to stream down my face as Draco succumbs to the pain of his injuries, collapsing to the floor as if he were giving up, preparing to die. I lower the cloak, and he looks at me with complete and utter agony etched across his bruised face.
“Ginny.”
It is just my name that he says, as if ripped from his throat, but it is so raw, so broken sounding that it pulls my heart to pieces. My stubborn resolve to resist him, which has taken me the whole week to build up, crumples in a single instant, crashing down to let my emotions come bursting forth. I rush to him, sobbing as if the pain were mine, and I lift his head and cradle it in my lap, rocking backwards and forwards gently.
“You shouldn’t have seen that,” he whispers, reaching up to touch my face, groaning harshly as he pulls his arm in the wrong direction.
“I’m sorry I didn’t come, Draco,” I whisper hoarsely. I gently rise to my feet and pull him up along with me, careful to make sure that I don’t put pressure on his ribcage. I help him to the bed, desperately trying to keep myself under control, keep my emotions in check.
I watch as he sinks slowly back into the soft comfort of the feather duvet, gasping as a broken bone in his upper arm moves suddenly. I bring my hand up to his face and cradle his cheek with my palm, turning his face so that he can look into my eyes. I can’t even remember what my reasons were for cutting off our contact anymore. He just looks so helpless, so full of need, lying there in front of me, broken, hurt, his face bruised and his eyes bright with unshed tears.
“I thought that you promised that I wouldn’t ever have to help you again,” I whisper, the conversation in the hall that started all of this springing to mind.
“What can I say, I just had to see you again,” he murmurs, his mouth turning up at the corners slightly.
I choke on my tears, and cover my eyes for a second as more tears come. “That’s not funny, Draco.”
“I know,” he whispers, reaching out to touch my cheek, although I can see that it hurts him a lot, “I’m sorry, Ginny.”
“No, Draco,” I say as I link my fingers with his. “I’m sorry that it took me this long to come back.”
“Why, Ginny?” he asks, and I can hear that raw, hurt sound creeping back into his voice once more.
I shake my head vehemently, and squeeze his hand as gently as possible. “Not now, Draco. Let me fix you first.”
I get up slowly and make my way to the bathroom to gather up the ointments and other salves that I will need to repair his damaged body. He watches me the whole time, his eyes rarely blinking, giving me a plain view into the soul that is hidden behind those piercing silver orbs.
His black t-shirt clings to his body, matted with his blood and my tears. I know that I am not going to be able to take it off without causing him a lot of unnecessary pain, so I go to his writing desk and retrieve a pair of scissors.
He weakly holds out a hand to stop me as I bring the scissors towards him.
“What are you doing, Ginny?” His voice is hoarse and quiet. His words sound strained, as if he is having immense trouble trying to get the words out over an enormous lump in the back of his throat. He looks scared, as if he doesn’t quite trust me with something that could so easily be used as a weapon against him.
“I can’t take your t-shirt off, Draco, I would hurt you to much,” I reply, looking up at his face and abandoning all thoughts of cutting for a second. His face relaxes immediately, and I can see in his eyes that he feels guilty for doubting my intentions even if just for a second. I smile slightly at him to let him know that I’m not angry, and the shame disappears from his face.
“But this is my good t-shirt,” he rasps. I smile weakly, knowing that this was his way of trying to cheer me up, to lighten the desolate mood that has unsurprisingly fallen between us.
“You’ve got plenty more where this one came from,” I say, and I start to snip away at the piece of soft material. I gently cut all the way up and over his breastbone, and then across the collar bone and then carefully down each sleeve, careful not to agitate his body to much in the process. I gently pull the pieces away from his body one by one until he is left without a shirt on, giving me clear view of all of the new marks upon his skin.
I set to work mending his mangled body, as I did before, silent, but with little trickles of salty tears still making their way down my face to drip on his bare chest.
His arms are dotted with large patches of angry welts and bruises that are steadily turning black, purple, green, and an ugly yellow. Under the mass of colors I can just barely see the pure unblemished skin that I had so recently restored to perfection. My heart feels as if it is being squeezed particularly hard as I survey the damage, making it hard to breathe without choking. I gently pick up his left arm and bite my lip as he winces in pain. His wrist is broken. Again. Another surge of anger courses through my body at the thought of it. I feel as if I could kill Lucius Malfoy with my bare hands if given the chance. I wish that I could creep up behind him with my invisibility cloak on and lodge a knife right in the center of his back. To watch him scream in pain would not even begin to make up to me the pain that he has caused Draco and myself. It was because of him that I opened the Chamber in my first year, and that scarred my soul for the longest time.
I move my way up the length of his arm, gently rubbing slave onto bruise after bruise, quickly losing count. He doesn’t say anything, but watches my face the entire time, as he did before, causing the hairs on my arms and neck to stand on end. I don’t know how to deal with being under this constant scrutiny, and I know exactly why he’s looking at me. He wants answers to why I didn’t come, to why I abandoned him after leading him on. Answers that I would rather not give. I attempt to shrug off the feelings of guilt and move around the other side of the bed, his eyes following me the whole way, and begin to minister to his right arm, which, if anything, looks twice as bad as the left. His lower arm is broken, and twisted in a way that can only be described as extremely painful looking. It makes me feel queasy just looking at it. I place the salve down on the bed, bit my lip, and take his arm carefully into my fingers.
He gasps loudly as I begin to realign the bones, and his eyes fill with tears almost instantaneously. I steel myself against his reactions, knowing that I am doing what is best for him, and continue, anxiously trying to ignore the sobs that I can hear him desperately struggling to keep down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, his arm is straight once more, and I cover it in the salve for the bruises and wrap it, casting a charm upon it to keep it in the same place.
When I finally move to work on his chest after attending to all of the wounds on his arms, I realize that the salve that I have been using to soothe and heal the bruises is completely used up. To late I realize that my face must display some of my worry, because Draco reaches out and touches my hand gently.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. I purse my lips grimily and hold up the empty jar for him to see. Comprehension dawns in his eyes and he glances down to survey the rest of his bruised body. His lips form a small ‘oh’ shape before he relaxes back into the pillows, looking defeated.
“That was the last container I had,” he whispers, letting his eyes drift shut in exhaustion and surrender.
“Where did you get it?” I ask him. “I can get more.”
“I stole it from Snape’s storeroom,” he admits. I sigh in grim acceptance and rise off of the bed. “Where are you going?”
I turn to look at him, and I am sure that my face is displaying a look of utter disbelief. “To Snape’s storeroom of course.”
“Ginny, no!” he exclaims firmly, desperately trying to push himself up into a sitting position with his least injured arm. “You can’t just go marching into Snape’s storeroom! If you get caught, you’re through! You’ll be expelled!”
“Draco, if I leave the rest of those bruises and broken bones, they’ll never heal properly, and you’ll be in pain for the rest of your life. I have to get some more salve,” I say, gently pushing him back onto the bed. “And besides, I have Harry’s invisibility cloak to protect me, I won’t get caught.”
He looks worried, but does not say anything to me as I rise off of the bed once more. I retrieve Harry’s cloak from the place that I left it on the floor and for the first time since I entered the suite of rooms, I realize how devastated they are. Furniture is everywhere, and everything is broken or overturned. I hold out my wand and repair the things closest to me with a small swish of the piece of wood. I put the furniture back in their places, and straighten the rug that I pulled so that his room is neat once more.
I slip the cloak around me so that I disappear from Draco’s view and turn to face him. Although I know he can’t see me, his eyes are staring at the place that I am standing. It’s as if he can see through the barrier of the cloak.
“Good luck,” he whispers, and with that, I leave the room.
~~)~*~(~~
I quietly slip from corridor to corridor, silently making my way past teachers that are strolling the quiet school, on watch for disobedient students like me, out of bed and ready to cause trouble. Without Harry’s cloak, I wouldn’t have made it one hundred feet from Draco’s room. I need to send Harry a thank you of some sort for letting me use his cloak.
Finally, after what seems like ten teachers and two hours later, although it has been a mere ten minutes, I find myself standing outside the door of Snape’s Potions room. I pull out my wand and whisper, “Alohamora.”
The door swings open, squeaking slightly, and I slip inside of the dark, damp, and empty room. I flit through the desks, quickly making my way up to the door of Snape’s storeroom. I whisper, “Alohamora,” once more, and make my way into the inner sanctum of Snape’s kingdom. Tens upon hundreds of glass bottles line the circular room upon floor to ceiling shelves which cover every available section of wall. The sheer amount of potions and specimens kept in this room overwhelms me, and I honestly have no idea where to start. I glance at the labels of the ones on one of the shelves on the portion of wall that is to the left of the door. Aberatinas Potion, Abverthun Salve, Accanteas Potion... Alphabetical order! Of course! I quickly move over to the other side of the door and move backwards, Z, Y, X, W, V,U, T, S, R… Ruvellium Potion, Rucunthis Potion, almost there, Rosiatha Salve. Yes! My heart leaps as I see three small jars of Rosiatha sitting innocently on the shelf. I snatch one, and then, on second though, the second in the line, pulling the third one to the front in attempt to hide the empty spaces I’ve created. I pocket the two jars of the salve that I’ve taken, and pull the cloak back firmly over my head. I creep back out of the room, closing and locking the office door behind me. I turn and sneak through the maze of desks once more when something makes me stand still.
“Potter!” a voice whispers furiously. I peek over my shoulder and see Snape appear out of the shadows in the corner of the room. I feel my heart start pounding rapidly in my chest, and I am sure that Professor Snape can hear it, sure that he can see me despite the invisibility cloak. I turn and practically run towards the door, my footsteps echoing across the stone floor, Professor Snape’s close behind. My foot catches on the leg of a table in the last row and I fall to the floor, my ankle throbbing painfully.
“Potter!” Snape cries, launching towards where he knows I am – the table moved when I fell. I scramble out of the way and pull myself painfully to my feet as Snape crawls along the ground, his long fingers snatching the air perilously close to where I was lying just a moment before. I run for the door once more, and I can hear Snape launch to his feet once more, hot on my trail. “Potter! This is the end!”
I can feel my professor’s breath close to my neck, and I can hear the venom in his voice. I open the classroom door, and feel freedom calling my name when I feel Snape’s arm close around my neck pinning me to his side in a very unpleasant way. My heart sinks into the pit of my stomach and tears begin to stream silently down my face. This is it. The end of my career at Hogwarts. The end of my future as a healer. The end of Draco. My heart flip-flops at the thought of the poor boy, lying in his room, in pain, waiting for me to return with the medicine.
“This is the end of your stay here, Potter,” Snape rasps in my ear, making me shiver against him. “I will make sure that you are expelled for this.”
My eyes close in grim defeat as through my cloak I watch Snape’s other hand rise to my head. I feel him get hold of the opening of the cloak, and rip it off, as if in slow motion.
“Miss Weasley?!?!” he roars in utter surprise, and my tears come flowing out of me, and I begin to sob, choking on them, realizing what a sorry mess I must present to my teacher. “Where is Potter?”
“It’s not Harry, sir!” I choke out around my tears. I dare to open my eyes and turn to get a glimpse of his furious face. He releases me, the cloak remaining in his hand.
“What is the meaning of this, Miss Weasley,” he asks, chest rising and falling rapidly as if he is trying to keep a storm that is threatening to escape locked inside. I know that he has a bit of a soft spot for me, as I am one of his best students, but I don’t think that that will get me out of this.
I stare at him stupidly, unsure of what to say.
“Empty your pockets, Miss Weasley,” he orders, his voice hard, his face unyielding.
Without any other options except running, which I know will get me in even more trouble, I empty the pockets of my robes, letting the two jars of Rosiatha fall out into my trembling hands. I offer them to him, mute, and scared.
He takes them from my hands, his eyes only leaving my face to glimpse at the labels. At the sight of them, his face relaxes just a fraction.
“Are you hurt, Miss Weasley?” he asks, his voice a touch softer than before.
I shake my head, and I see his face tense once more.
“Why do you have these, may I ask?”
“I, uh, I-I took them for a friend,” I stutter out, scared beyond belief at the sight of my angry potions teacher. “A, a Slytherin friend, sir…”
He studies me silently for about twenty seconds before something akin to understanding dawns upon his face.. “You wouldn’t happen to know who Mr. Malfoy’s guardian angel is, by any chance, do you?”
I swallow painfully, and nervously shift on my feet, unsure of how to answer his question.
“Follow me,” he commands, and still clutching the cloak, he starts to walk the path out of the dungeons. I scamper behind him as best I can, finding it extremely difficult owing to my throbbing ankle, in an effort to catch up with his exceptionally long strides. The pain is almost more than I can stand, and I clench my fists hard as tears of pain stream down my face.
I follow in silence, knowing that unnecessary talk will get me into trouble, but I desperately want to know where we are going, and what will happen to me. I realize, after a minute or two, that he is taking me along the path that I came down. I allow a sliver of hope to creep into my soul. Maybe he won’t take me to Dumbledore, maybe I won’t be expelled!
We come to a halt in front of the familiar portrait, and Snape looks at me expectantly, and after a tense moment, I realize that he is waiting for the password.
“Buttercup,” I whisper, and as usual, the portrait and it’s section of the wall swing open to allow us entrance.
“Ginny!” Draco exclaims, relief coursing through his voice as I appear inside his room. The look upon his face makes me feel as if all of the trouble of being caught was completely worth it. His face then freezes and his eyes widen as Professor Snape steps into the room behind me.
Draco looks for a second as if I have betrayed him, but then his face goes blank, and he sinks down into his bed as much as possible, pulling the corner of his duvet over him in what I suppose is an attempt to hide his near nakedness which Snape seems to be noticing, a smug smile flitting across his face.
“Well, well, well,” he sneers at Draco, glancing from his Slytherin to me and back again. “Isn’t this just a cozy little setup, Mr. Malfoy.”
Draco is silent, and his face visibly hardens at the words of his Head of House. I turn to Snape, my fury showing in the glare that has set itself upon my face. Snape’s face softens a little when he glances at mine, and he looks slightly repentant.
“I caught Miss Weasley leaving my classroom with these,” Snape says, holding up the two jars of Rosiatha for Draco to see. “Next time your angel,” His voice cracks and he looks at me with raised eyebrows, “gets the idea into her head to sneak round the castle stealing potions from her professors, take better care of her.”
My eyes widen in shock, as do Draco’s, and Snape smirks at the two of us before dropping the invisibility cloak on the floor, shoving the jars of salve into my hands, and taking his leave.
Silence pervades the room for a minute, neither of us knowing where to look or what to say, but the pain in my ankle becomes so much that I have to steel myself against the pain and hobble the last ten feet to his bed before throwing myself onto it next to him.
“Ginny?” his voice is hesitant, curious, and worried at the same time. “What happened to you?”
I take a couple of deep breaths and straighten myself out on the bed, exhaustion beginning to take over me. I put one of the jars of salve in my hands on the nightstand next to the bed, and then sit up slowly, ignoring my ankle, so that I can finish attending to Draco’s much more urgent injuries.
I kneel next to him so that I can better access his chest, and I bite my lip in an effort to stifle a gasp as a I roll my ankle particularly painfully
“You’re hurt,” he says, his voice soft, attempting to soothe my frazzled nerves.
“It’s nothing bad. Just hold still so I can finish, Draco,” I order, pushing him back onto the bed. I’m tired and all I want to do now is finish this so that I can sleep.
“What did you do, Ginny?” he persists, pushing my hands away from him.
“It’s nothing, okay!” I exclaim, glaring at him, and slapping salve onto his chest harder than necessary. He is silent and his face becomes blank, and I immediately sorry for letting my irritation get the best of me. “I’m sorry, okay? It’s just my ankle, I twisted it in the Potions room.”
“Does it hurt?” he asks, and I look at him in disbelief as I continue to attend to his injuries.
“Of course it hurts, but not as much as these, I’m sure.”
He smiles weakly and we are silent as I finish charming and wrapping his chest to aid the three broken ribs. I sit back on my unhurt ankle and bite my lip in embarrassment as I survey the rest of his body.
He glances down at his torso and realizes why my face is becoming flushed. He lets out a big breath and looks at me, with an impish grin playing about his lips. “Well, let’s get on with it, then.”
My eyes widen in surprise at his acceptance of the situation, and then move back down his torso to the line of his boxers. I take in a big breath and gently pull down the left side of his remaining piece of clothing as far as I dare so that I can attend to the bruises previously hidden. I apply the salve, swallowing hard when he shivers as my fingers brush perilously close to previously uncharted areas. I move over to the other side and repeat my actions, forcing my eyes to stay on the bruises when I have to reveal a little more than I would have liked. To give Draco some credit, when I glanced up at his face after rearranging his boxer, he did look quite embarrassed as well.
“You’re finished,” I whisper, placing the cap back on the jar of salve and placing in on the nightstand, reaching over him to do so.
As I moved back across him to my original position, he lifted his head up slightly to brush my lips in passing. I freeze above him, his lips still on mine, and after swallowing painfully, I continue moving back, away from him.
“Ginny?” he asks, hurt apparent in his voice as well as on his pale face.
I shake my head, unable to meet his eyes. The reasons for postponing a relationship between us that I spent all week developing begin to creep back into my head. “Not now, Draco. We need to talk first, and I’m to tired for that now.”
“Are you-” his voice quavers slightly, an I hear him swallow, “Are you leaving again?”
I glance at his face, and my resolve almost breaks as I see the fear peeking through his mask of uncaring.
“I, uh, I was going to-” I sigh and look back into his eyes before glancing at the sofa that I spent my first night on. “I’ll stay on the sofa tonight.”
He nods slowly, and with great effort, tries to slip underneath the duvet on his bed. I reach over and try to help him, but he holds up his hand in protest. Right, I see how it is. He’s going to go all silent on me because I won’t share his bed.
I stomp off the bed towards the sofa, and immediately regret my rash actions when excruciating pain rockets through my body. I choke back the tears and hobble to the sofa, easing myself down onto it.
Draco dims the lights without a word, and, after admitting that I probably deserve the treatment that I’m receiving, I lie back onto the sofa, covering myself with my robes.
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I wake up late on Saturday morning to find myself covered with the thick top green and silver comforter from Draco’s bed and two pillows cradling my head. I smile to myself, and regret it almost immediately as my head begins to pound unbearably with the effort. I remember my ankle and reach down underneath the cover to feel it and my eyebrows shoot up in surprise as I feel it wrapped and dressed.
“Glad to see you’re awake, Gin-bug,” I hear a voice say. I sit up in shock and look at the bed. Draco is still lying fast asleep. Slowly I turn my head and see none other than Harry ensconced in Draco’s cushy brown leather arm chair. My jaw drops open at the sight of him here in Draco’s room.
“W-what are you doing here?” I choke out, still barely able to wrap my pounding brain around the concept of him being here.
“The Marauder’s Map showed that you were still here, and I thought that I would come and check up on you. I saw you get caught by Snape last night when I was searching for Ron on it, and I wanted to know if you were okay,” he says, smiling winningly at me. My heart warms towards him, and a I look at the duvet and pillows and think of my ankle.
“Did you do this?” I ask motioning towards the bedding.
He shakes his head in surprise. “No, you were like that when I got here a couple of minutes ago.”
My heart skips a beat as the realization that Draco gave me the bedding and dressed my ankle sinks in. I smile slightly and fight not to let my emotions show on my face. “How did you get in here?”
He smiles and shakes his head. “I have my ways, Gin.” He pauses and lets his eyes drift towards the bed. I watch him do so, knowing instinctively what’s coming next, and I am right. “What happened to him, Ginny? He’s a mess.”
“You must swear not to tell anyone, Harry,” I say, my voice conveying my earnestness.
He nods, his eyes glancing towards Draco’s sleeping form quickly once more before riveting themselves on my face. “I want to know everything.”
“No interruptions, okay?” I say, and he nods. I start my narrative with the previous Friday evening, when I had been sneaking out to Hermione’s and saved Draco from being caught by Filch and Mrs. Norris. I tell Harry how I had helped him inside, and how I had spent the weekend healing him. I tell Harry everything, about how he kissed me (Harry looks at Draco’s bed, absolutely furious by this point, before I calm him down), and how I made myself sick with confusion. I tell him about my week, about how I spent it in states of agonizing indecision, and finally, I tell him about the previous night.
“I came here, hidden under your cloak, and when I came inside, Lucius Malfoy was here,” I say, dredging up the horrible memories of the night before.
Harry’s face hardens at the mention of Lucius Malfoy, and I know that his mind is recalling the horrible incident in the Chamber of Secrets.
“He was, uh-” I let out a big breath, trying to stay calm enough to say what I am trying to, and finally, I give it a try. “He was beating Draco with his belt because Draco won’t join the Death Eaters.”
All anger that had previously been displayed on Harry’s face because of earlier parts of my story disappears as I relate the latest part. Something akin to compassion and sympathy begins to creep onto it as the cruelty of my story sinks in. “He was beating him?”
I nod, tears threatening to fall once more. Harry is immediately at my side, his arms around me as I regain my composure.
“Wow,” he says after a couple of minutes. “I actually feel sorry for the bastard.”
I laugh softly, glad that Harry’s not angry at the whole ‘we kissed’ thing.
“I’m glad that he has you to take care of him, Gin-bug,” Harry whispers, stroking my hair gently, “Maybe he has changed for the better.”
We sit in silence for a minute before Harry speaks once more. “You like him, don’t you, Gin?”
I bite my lip and don’t answer. Harry touches my chin, turning it and lowering his head so that he is looking in my eyes. “Don’t you?”
I nod, looking over towards the bed where I see Draco stirring slightly. When I reply, my voice is barely even a whisper. “Yeah.”
Damn it feels good to admit that to someone!
Harry smiles at me, pulling me towards him and resting his chin on the top of my head. “If you like him, then he must be deserving of it, Gin. I’ve never known you to like someone who didn’t deserve your affections. I won’t be angry with you if, you know…”
His voice trails off, and I flash him a happy smile, thankful for his words of encouragement, knowing how hard it must be for him to voice them when he and Draco have had so many spats in the past. It feels better to have Harry’s permission for – whatever this thing is that Draco and have/are having.
“Shit!” Draco mumbles, and my eyes meet Harry’s. He drops a kiss on my forehead, and quickly gets up and slips along the walls and out of the room before Draco sits up. “Shit that hurts!”
“Draco?” I whisper, hobbling over to the bed.
“Ginny?” he asks, voice tinted with hope at my presence near him. He eases his way up into a sitting position and looks at me standing beside the bed.
“Did you give me the cover and the pillows, Draco?” I ask, biting my lip in shyness, “And my ankle?”
He nods, eyes not meeting mine, and I know that he is unsure of what my reaction will be, given my actions the previous night. I clamber up onto the bed next to him, his eyes suddenly following my every move, and after smoothing his hair out of his face, I gently lower my lips to his in a gentle, tender kiss. He is at first shocked at my willingness to initiate something which I shied away from the previous night, but quickly recovers and brings his bandaged hand up to caress my face.
I allow my hands to wind their way around his neck as I kiss him again, and again, feeling the different ways my lips can slant against his own. I feel his tongue gently brush against my lower lip, and I gasp at the sensation, pulling back slightly to look into his darkened eyes before opening my mouth slightly to him. He gently suckles my lower lip and I whimper as his tongue pushes into my mouth for the first time. My hands involuntarily begin to explore the bare expanse of his back and as he pushes deeper inside me, they snake back up and my fingers bury themselves in his mass of silky blonde hair, reveling in the freedom to do so.
He moves to bring his arms up around my back and gasps as the movement jolts the bones. He pulls away as he bites his lip to wait for the pain to pass. I laugh softly and kiss his closed eyelids before making my way down his face, dropping feather light kisses across his cheeks and his delicate nose before placing one on each corner of his mouth.
“Maybe it’s best that you’re injured,” I whisper, sitting back on my uninjured leg.
His eyes open and he looks at me with puzzled eyes. “What? I can’t kiss you the way I want and you think that’s a good thing?”
“I’m not crazy!” I assure him, laughing.
He gives me a look that clearly says ‘prove it’.
“I just mean that we’ve got a lot of issues to work through, and we can’t go too fast,” I explain, and he nods, though I can tell it’s reluctantly.
There’s a knock on the chamber door, and I look at Draco, puzzled. He looks worried, but then a voice comes from the other side, “Ginny, it’s me, Harry!”
I roll my eyes, and without looking at Draco, I make my way to the door. I push it open and Harry steps inside, his astute eyes immediately traveling over Draco and myself. He smirks slightly and I slap his wrist. He strides inside, where Draco is watching him extremely suspiciously.
“Glad to see that you’re doing better, Draco,” Harry says, in an admirable attempt to be civil towards Draco. I see Draco’s demeanor relax, and he actually smiles slightly at Harry, who turns to me. “Hermione wants you. Says that you’re supposed to be going to a special Transfiguration class for Animagus training or something.”
I groan as I remember the special class that Hermione and I signed up for with McGonagall. I glance at the clock and see that I’m due there in ten minutes. I turn to Harry, “Will you turn around and wait by the door?”
He smirks once more, but does as I ask, and I make my way to the bed where Draco is watching me. I climb up next to him and lower my head to his ear. “I’ll be back tonight. I swear.”
I look into his silver eyes and he nods, smiling at me. “Go.”
I smile back and lower my lips to his for one last kiss before slipping out of the room with Harry.
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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!
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Hurt Loves
Chapter 6
Aravaeya
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Guys, I really appreciate all the reviews that I am getting for this story, and I’m really sorry that I cannot update as frequently as I would like, but my life is very hectic, and I am very sick. By very hectic I mean, I have to sacrifice precious hours of sleep to write this story when I only get about 4, maybe five if I’m lucky, to start with a night. I’m trying, I really am. You may have noticed the whole ‘Ginny gets sick when she’s stressed’ thing that’s been going on in this story. Well, it’s me giving all of you a little hint about myself. When I get stressed, or when I have little sleep, I make myself so sick, so I can’t strain myself to much, but I’m really going to try and prioritize this(who needs to do well on their A Levels when there’s a story to write?J I wish!). Thank you all for your continued support, loyalty, and patience!
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As we exit Draco’s room, I glance at Harry briefly. He looks tense, his face strained, like he usually does before he wants to broach an uncomfortable topic. Something that will undoubtedly lead to a confrontation. Something that I don’t want. I do some quick thinking, searching for something to say before he speaks.
“Harry, I thought you were going to the Animagi class too,” I say as we start down the corridor towards Hermione’s room. He furrows his eyebrows for a second, as if frustrated, but then his face clears and I give an inward sigh of relief.
“I am.” I look towards him, wondering why he made it seem like he wasn’t when he spoke in Draco’s room. He smirks at me. “I didn’t want Malfoy to know. He’d think I was geeky or something, going to an extra class. Not exactly the image that I’m trying to promote.”
I roll my eyes and we stop in front of the portrait of Hogwarts’ female founders. Boys. They’re all the same. Concerned about their image. Actually, I guess they’re not that much different from boys. This makes me smile slightly, and I bite my lip so Harry won’t notice.
“Asphodel,” Harry supplies, and the portrait swings open. He ushers me inside, and we enter Hermione’s suite of rooms, so very much like Draco’s, but a female version, softer, with lighter colors. I was in the hallway that night when Draco almost got caught by Filch because of this very room. I was on my way to see Hermione, and if I hadn’t been out there, Lord knows where I would be now, or what state Draco would be in. Despite all of the problems I’ve had in the past week, the sickness, and the struggle, I wouldn’t have it any other way, not now that I know what’s happened and have the suggestion in my mind of what could happen.
This used to be one of my favorite places. I look around the room, taking in the light polished wood that Hermione’s furniture is made out of. My mind immediately conjures up an image of the sleek, dark, varnished wood in Draco’s room. I let my hand drift along the duvet on the large bed, let it touch the curtains around the bed ever so gently. They’re scarlet and gold – gorgeous shades and wonderful together – but my mind remembers the deep greens and intense silvers of the fabric in Draco’s room. Given a choice, I know which I would choose as my room.
“Gin-bug?” Hary’s voice brings my out of my momentary reverie, as does the tap of his hand upon my shoulder. “You okay?”
I nod, and grin at him. “Yeah. Thanks. Just a bit tired.”
He smiles sympathetically, the weariness in his face showing through. “I know how that feels.” I give him a brief hug, knowing how much pressure is upon him with the war heating up outside our snug and safe castle, and with the little everyday things pressing down upon him – Hermione, not that she’s a bad thing, just something else to think about, Quidditch, his last and final matches here at school fast approaching, N.E.W.T.s, the tests that could make or break his career – he has every reason to be worn out. “If it weren’t for people like you, and Ron, and Hermione…”
He lets his voice trail off as a smile comes over his face, and Hermione immediately comes bustling out of the bathroom, pulling a turtleneck sweater down over her mass of long brown hair.
“Harry!” she says, gladness evident in her voice. She immediately flies across the room and wraps her arms around his waist, and he leans down to give her a short, sweet kiss.
She turns to face me, her lovely smile still in place.
“Ginny!” she says, smiling happily as her eyes meet mine, “You’re here! I can never seem to find you. Where were you last night? I went looking for you everywhere, and this morning!”
I look to Harry for help, and he immediately speaks up, pulling Hermione to him with his long arms. “She was taking a nice peaceful walk this morning. I found her coming in through the front doors.”
For a moment I think that Hermione will let me off the hook, but my relief is short lived as she turns on me, concern evident on her face.
“Ginny! You should have known better than to take a walk when you’ve been so sick without someone there! You could have collapsed out there and no one would have found you for ages!” Hermione exclaims, freeing herself from Harry and coming closer to me so that I will feel the full weight of her reproach.
“I’m sorry Hermione,” I say, through gritted teeth, trying to look sorry. “I won’t do it again, I promise.”
“Good,” she says, smiling at me, and turning together up her school cloak and satchel. I glare at Harry over her bent head, and he shrugs apologetically, making a face at me. I stick my tongue out at him, and he brings his hands to his ears, wiggling his fingers around in return like I used to do with my brothers when I was younger. Hermione turns around just in time to catch him with his fingers still wiggling, and she looks back and forth between us, and I don my ‘I’m innocent’ face lightning quick, leaving her to focus on Harry’s guilty one, his hands frozen in mid air next to his ears.
“What are you doing, Harry?” she says, a reproving and clearly exasperated look on her face. “Seriously, I feel like I have to be your mother sometimes, telling you not to make faces at the girls for god’s sake. What has Ginny ever done to you to warrant that type of behavior?”
She gives him a slight shove towards the door, shaking her head and rolling her eyes all the while, and he moves along, pulling it open, motioning for her to go through, but shooting me a dirty look as Hermione exits the room. I smirk and grin, sticking my tongue out once more as I pass him to leave the room.
We start to make our way towards the Transfiguration classroom, and I can feel the charm that Draco placed on my ankle begin to wear off ever so slightly, making the limp that I have desperately been trying to hide from my ever observant best friend become just slightly more pronounced. I pray to anyone listening that Hermione will for once not notice.
“Ginny, what have you done to your ankle?” Hermione says, her hand shooting out to my arm to stop me from continuing any further on our journey. I let out a frustrated sigh. So much for Divine intervention.
“Nothing, Hermione,” I assure her, starting to move forwards once more, but her hand tightens on my arm to a level that is almost painful unless I back up. After a few moments of futile resistance against my much stronger best friend, I back up and face her inquisitive eyes. The look on her face clearly says that I’m not going anywhere without giving her some sort of satisfactory explanation. Over her shoulder, where my eyes drift so as to avoid her piercing glare, I see Harry lingering behind her, wisely staying out of the conversation.
“What have you done to your ankle, Ginny?” she asks once more, eyes flashing in warning. I love my best friend, I really do, and she is quite honestly the sweetest girl on earth, but when she thinks that you’re hiding something from her that she should know, she has a determination and edge to her that makes it hard to refuse.
I bite my lip in defeat, and shrug my arm out of her grasp, a little twinge starting in my temples, the sure sign of a rough day ahead in regards to my headaches. “I went for a walk of the castle last night because I couldn’t get to sleep. I tripped while I was walking and twisted my ankle.”
Hermione survey’s me with her studious eyes, as if to read my face to see if I’m telling the truth or not.
“I swear it’s the truth Hermione!” I reassure her, lifting my half of the friendship necklace off of my collarbone to show her my truthfulness.
She licks her lips slowly, looking thoughtful, and still slightly suspicious. “And you went for a walk this morning with a sprained ankle?”
I clench my jaw, shooting Harry an exasperated look very briefly. “It wasn’t really a walk, Herm. I was sitting out on the grounds, trying to get some fresh air. And besides, it’s been taken care of, it’s just that the pain charm is wearing off a little bit.”
She tilts her head to the side, looking thoughtful, and then smiles at me, which makes me feel slightly better, even if I can see that it’s a little bit strained.
“I believe you,” she says, shrugging a little, even though I can tell that she doesn’t quite believe me. I’m glad that she’s going to let the subject rest for a while thought, despite her suspicions about my truthfulness. I feel a twinge of guilt, but I suppose that I’ll have to live with that until I fess up to her about Draco, something which I know that I am nowhere near ready for. “Does it hurt?”
“Not really, Dr-” I cut myself off before I say ‘Draco helped me’ as I was intending to. Harry is now looking at me with wide eyes, as if he knows what I almost said, and he clears his throat loudly.
“Herm, it’s almost 9:30. We wouldn’t want to keep Professor McGonagall waiting now, would we?”
She turns her curious gaze away from me, and checks her watch, her face transforming into a look of horror as she surveys the time. It’s clear that my ankle and story are no longer on her mind, for which I breath a sigh of relief.
I shoot Harry a grateful look as Hermione takes off at a near run in front of us, silently thanking him for saving me from Hermione’s questions. The look on his face clearly says that he probably won’t be able to save me next time.
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When we arrive at the door to the Transfiguration classroom, there’s a small cluster of students already waiting, and just as we’re about to join the circle, the doors open, and Professor McGonagall steps out, motioning for us to follow her into the classroom. We file past one by one and find seats, and after everyone has entered the room, which seems significantly larger than it does when it is chock full of students, Professor McGonagall closes the door and locks it, something which I can see surprises everyone present. Professor McGonagall has never locked the door for classes. She strides to the front of the room, looking us over one by one. Her eyes rest on me as she walks by, and as I glance up into her face, her eyes catch mine. I swallow hard at the look in her eyes which is something that I can’t identify. She looks as if she’s a woman with a secret, and as she keeps her eyes on me even as she moves forward, prompting me to turn away in embarrassment, I realize that she might well know something the others don’t, something that could have been garnered from Professor Snape. With wide eyes, I look back at her and she nods almost imperceptibly, smiling slightly and turning her eyes away from me. She stays facing the front for a moment, and then turns to face us, her usual expressionless teaching mask firmly back in place.
“Those of you who are here in this classroom are people who I have given the chance to study Animagition, to train to become Animagi. This is a hard feat, and will take an extraordinary amount of effort on your parts.”
I nod along with the rest of the class as Professor McGonagall pauses her speech to look each of us in the eye, keeping mine just for a fraction of a second this time, just like everyone else.
“This is a privilege, and I want you all to understand the amount of responsibility that comes along with it. You are here because I have invited you on the basis of your academic excellence and other achievements. Failure to maintain academic excellence throughout the course of this year jeopardizes your participation in this course. Understood?”
I nod again, although I feel my attention slipping away from my Transfiguration teacher, and I glance around at the people in the room. There are five Hufflepuffs, sitting in the back corner, all seventh years; six Ravenclaws, sitting in front of me, a mixture of sixth and seventh years; and no Slytherins. From Gryffindor, there are eight of us. Hermione, Harry, Ron(sans Francesca for what I think might be the first time since they got together), Dean, Neville, Lena(my dorm mate, sans her twin sister Ingrid), Parvati(sans Lavender), and myself. Harry, Hermione, Ron and I are sitting in near the middle of the room, with the other Gryffindors scattered around us. It doesn’t really surprise me that there aren’t any Slytherins. Even if any had received invitations to join the class, I doubt that any would have signed up. Taking extra classes with the Gryffindor Head of House would be highly frowned on by the Slytherins.
“Now, the textbooks that I am handing out will be yours to use until the end of this course. Please take good care of them as they are very hard to come by and are of sentimental value to me.” Professor McGonagall places one of the extremely large old looking books that she is carrying down on the desk in front of me, and in response to the loud noise, my head immediately snaps round to face her, having finished my perusal of the room. I glance down at the book, The Art of Animagition, by Minerva McGonagall. Professor McGonagall wrote this book? I open the front cover to glance at it’s first publishing date. 1946. Goodness gracious. McGonagall is almost the same age as Dumbledore!
My sleep deprived mind is still far down that vein of thought when her voice pulls me back once more.
“Now, if you will please quietly read the first chapter of your books, we can get on with our first lesson.”
I open the book and attempt to read her immensely complex instructions and explanations in the first chapter, An Introduction to Animagition, and know, without a shadow of a doubt, that this is going to be a really, really long day.
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When McGonagall lets us go for the day, near half past four in the afternoon, everyone participating in the Animagus lessons looks, and I’m sure feels, cranky and extremely tired, not only from excessive amounts of ready and lectures, but from two hours of practical wand work. I feel like I’m ready to sink into the first ditch that I can find and die from pure and utter fatigue – and indecision.
Once again, away from the safety of Draco’s room, my head clears and I can think without interruption, and all I can really know for sure are two things. One, that I really want…well, I really want ‘something’, but I’m not sure what that ‘something’ is, and two, that we, as in Draco and I, really need to talk. That is the top priority, and I can’t let my aims be clouded and pushed aside by feelings and emotions and desires as they are prone to do.
My head starts to throb quite painfully, the headache that has been building steadily all day finally pushing itself to the forefront of my consciousness, determined to make itself known.
Harry moans and the three of us sink down onto a bench near the Transfiguration classroom.
“I am so tired!” he grumbles, the weariness evident in his voice. He has been showing excessive signs of crankiness since our pitifully short lunch break.
I nod in agreement, sinking my head down onto one of his broad shoulders mirroring Hermione’s posture. She’s sitting on his other side, eyes closed, looking as if she’s ready to go to sleep for the rest of the day. She opens her eyes, sighs and begins to pull her things together as if getting ready to leave.
“Where are you going?” Harry asks, reaching out for her as she stands up, catching her wrist gently and knocking my head off his shoulder in the process. I’m to tired to protest, and let it sag against the closest wall instead, watching my friends through an uninterested haze.
“Library,” she admits, although she looks somewhat sad to leave us. “Arithmancy homework.”
“I told you that you shouldn’t have taken so many subjects…” Harry starts his familiar lecture, a definite ‘I told you so’ note in his voice, trying to lift himself up, and Hermione pushes him back down to the bench.
“Yes, Harry, we all know, but I am taking what I am taking, so just hush up,” she instructs him, and she leans down to silence him with a long kiss before giving me a half hug, a look of immense sympathy after a pointed glance at Harry, and disappearing in the general direction of the library.
Harry and I sit in silence for an indeterminable period of time, and I feel sure that I am just about to fall asleep when he nudges my arm, bringing me awake once more.
“What?” I ask irritably, my temper flaring as my temples throb even more with every passing second. Can’t he just leave me alone? I want to sleep!
“You have to tell her, you know,” he says to me. I sigh, turning my annoyed gaze on him. “She was suspicious this morning and you’re being deceitful.”
“I am not talking about this now.” I feel my crankiness asserting itself, and know where this conversation is heading. I gather my things and stand up, ready to go back to Draco’s room to change his bandage’s, sort out my feelings, and have a nice long sleep.
“No, Ginny, you’re not walking away from me like this, not after everything that I’ve done for you,” he says in a stern voice, and I turn back to him, rolling my eyes.
“And that is what?” I know that I’m being rude now, and ungrateful, but I really just want him to leave me alone for god’s sake! Can’t he see that I don’t want to talk about this now – or preferably ever? This is ultimately leading to a showdown, I can tell – it’s always impossible to avoid when Harry and I disagree since our tempers love to make themselves known - and all I want to do is curl up in bed, preferably Draco’s where everything is cozy and warm, not get nasty with Harry.
“I covered for you this morning when Hermione wanted to know where you were, and I helped you when you almost slipped and said Draco’s name, and I’ve kept your secret from her, even though I don’t want to, and I was civil to Draco this morning!” He pauses and takes a big breath, allowing me to begin to process his words. “Do you know how hard that is? Being civil to the person who’s made my life almost a living hell these past seven years? The person who has taunted and teased your best friend, my girlfriend, who’s hexed her and called her such horrible and filthy names that I don’t even want to repeat them. The person who’s been so cruel to your brother, especially on the Quidditch field The person who was so mean to you these past six years. The person whose father gave you that diary that made you open the Chamber of Secrets! I respect that you’re a big girl now and that you can make your own choices, but don’t you think that you could choose a little bit better? It’s hard! I was civil to him, Gin. I spoke to him, for you, so don’t ask me what I’ve done for you.”
“Don’t judge him by his father, Harry,” I say, my temper rising dangerously, near to the point of bursting. I’m not sure why I suddenly feel so defensive of Draco when I have questioned his loyalties so much myself, but the need to defend him asserts itself within me. “I told you this morning what his father has been doing to him. How can you compare the two? I thought that you said that you were okay with this. I thought that you said you felt sorry for him. I thought you understood!”
Harry smirks at me, in a very Draco like fashion, much to my anger, and launches forth once more. “I didn’t want you to be angry with me Ginny, I wanted to avoid creating a scene in his room-”
“So you lied to me?” I snarl, a dose of my venomous temper tainting my voice.
“No-” he starts, but I interrupt him, my anger close to the point of being out of control.
“Yes, Harry, you did. You said that you understood, that you didn’t mind, which you obviously do, so you lied to me.”
“And you think that you’re one to preach to me about lying to people, Gin?” he growls at me, a true glimpse of his legendary temper shining through. It seems that I’ve finally met my match. “You who were sneaking off to see Malfoy and lying to me about it? Don’t lecture me about lying. I’m just trying to protect you, so you don’t go and sleep with him before you realize what you’re doing, and if you don’t tell Hermione, I will.”
“No you won’t, Harry!” I exclaim, pushing him back onto the bench with a nasty snarl. “And don’t try to protect me either! Ickle Gin-bug’s a big girl now, and she can snog and shag who she wants without big brother Harry telling her what to do, so why don’t you just sod off and mind your own damn business.”
I stalk away from him, not looking back as he angrily calls my name. I break into a ruin as I hear him come after me, and I quickly lose him in the mass of hallways around Draco and Hermione’s rooms.
Tears threaten to fall any moment, stinging the back of my eyes, everything that Harry said hitting me hard in the heart. The rational side of me knows that our harsh words are a direct result of lack of sleep and emotional confusion – God knows that I didn’t mean most of the mean things that I said – but the reality of our squabble still pierces me hard, almost like a physical blow to the chest.
I mutter the password to Draco’s room, having ended up in front of the portrait, and I feel the weight of my guilt and anger an d sadness threaten to crush me at any moment as the portrait swings open and I enter the room.
“Ginny?” Draco’s voice sounds hopeful, wistful, no doubt in reference to our kisses and moments of happiness this morning, things which seem all to far away in my highly confused and clouded mind.
I turn to the armchair, where I see him through my tear-blurred eyes, and I choke back the torrent of tears threatening to break forth. I see him jump up from his chair as quickly as he can, and within seconds, I feel his arms envelop me in a tight hug.
“Ginny?” his voice is soft, comforting, and it tips the scales holding back my feelings and my sobs come bursting forth, shaking me until I’m hiccupping and barely able to breath. I know that I must present a pitiful sight, but Draco just leads me over to the bed, where I follow him up onto it, sinking back into the soft warm mattress gratefully, burying my face in a pillow, suddenly ashamed at my outburst.
“What happened?” he asks, gently pushing my hair away from my face so he can look into my eyes.
“H-Harry and I h-had a f-fight,” I manage to choke out in between my hiccups and a new wave of tears.
Draco’s face immediately becomes a mask of anger, and I feel him shaking against me. “What did the bloody wanker say?”
I can’t get the words out over the lump in my throat, and I shake my head. Draco’s uninjured hand comes up to stroke my cheek ever-so-gently, soothing me, calming my shaking body every so slowly.
“Was it about us?” he asks, his voice hesitating ever so slightly on the word ‘us’.
I nod, and gather my thoughts, taking a deep breath to steady myself. “He knows about what has happened between -” I find it hard to say what I mean, as I do not really know what has happened.
“Between us?” Draco volunteers. I shrug slightly and nod.
“Yeah. He said that I had to tell Hermione because she’s my best friend and I’ve been lying to her, and I said that I wasn’t ready to talk about it, and we just ended up shouting at each other.” I sniffle in what I know is a most unattractive way, but I really don’t think that there is an attractive way to sniffle, so I suppose that it can’t be helped. “I said some really mean things to him.”
I look up to see Draco snarling. “He deserved everything you said to him, I’m sure. I knew from the moment that I saw him in here this morning that he would cause nothing but problems for you. He has no right to interfere with your life, Ginny!”
“But he’s my brother, Draco, and I hurt him. We were both just so tired,” I try to explain, but before I can go on, a huge yawn that I can’t suppress makes me realize just how tired I actually am. Draco’s face softens slightly, and he pulls back the covers on his bed, helping me under them. Gently, reverently, he unclasps my school robe, taking it off and throwing it to the side, so that I’m left in my trousers and t-shirt. He does the same with my shoes, and then pulls the covers on top of me as I watch in a stupefied haze.
“Go to sleep, Ginny,” he says, “We’ll talk later.”
I let my eyes close, and as I drift off to sleep, I feel him wrap his uninjured arm around me from behind, pulling me close to him and tucking my head underneath his chin.
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It’s not as long as I would have liked, but I have masses of homework to catch up on from being off school sick, so I’m sorry. Guess you’ll just have to tune in to see what happens between Harry and Ginny, and what happens between Hermione and Ginny, and if you think that this story is just about Ginny/Draco falling in love and living happily every after, you’ve got another thing coming! They’ve got a war to overcome, remember?
Please review, this is my first Draco/Ginny fic(and you could also argue, my first fic), and reviews are what keep me going!
Hurt Loves
Chapter 7
Aravaeya
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Sorry for the delay.
I don’t own Draco or Ginny, or Harry, or Hermione no matter how much I would love to and I am not making any money off of this story so don’t sue.
Also, I will be back in the United States starting next week and I know I won’t be able to update before then, so it will be about two weeks before I can update, but believe me, I have a chapter almost ready!
Now, onto the story!
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My eyes flutter open slowly, and I wince as I feel the pounding in my head once more. I push back the covers and stumble out of bed, feeling my away across the dark room towards the bathroom. I fumble through the medicine cabinet until I find the appropriate pain relieving potion that will help both my ankle and my head and swallow it down in one single gulp. The pain fades almost instantly, and not surprisingly, given the amount of the stuff that I’ve taken.
I recap the vial and place it on the countertop, and then I look around in the cabinet for the rest of the potions and salves to find the ones that I need for Draco. I gather the ones that I need into my arms and tiptoe back into the main room, glancing at the clock on my way. I almost drop the potions in shock – 3:55! Good God, I really can’t believe that I slept from five o’clock til now – almost eleven hours! No wonder I feel more well rested than I have in ages.
“Ginny?” At the sound of Draco’s voice, I turn back to the bed, and I see him sitting up and sliding out, blinking rapidly, trying to get his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room I would guess. “Are you there?”
“Yeah, Draco, I’m here,” I reply, rooting around for my potions and then exiting the bathroom with them firmly in hand. “Ready to be my patient?”
I can hear him chuckle slightly in the darkness. “I suppose so. You feeling any better?”
I bring the lights up a little so that we can actually see each other and I shrug. “As good as can be expected. Now lie down. We’re going to talk while I do this.” I motion to the couch and he follows my orders. I pull up one of the dining chairs next to him and prepare to begin my work – and our talk.
“Right.” Poor thing. He looks almost scared, but then I again, I’m sure that my face mirrors the same feelings.
I strip off his t shirt and begin my work, thinking of a way to start the conversation. Neither of us speak for a couple of minutes, but finally, I sigh, gather up my courage, and pose the first question.
“What exactly happened between you and your father, Draco?” I ask, and at his surprised look, I give him a stern one back. “I need to know everything that I can to get my feelings straight. Everything.”
He sighs, bites his lip as I press down on what was previously a particularly ugly looking bruise, and speaks.
“My father went to Azkaban at the end of last school year,” he starts, and I bite my lip guiltily. This does not escape him, and he looks quite surprised as realization hits him. “You were one of the students that put him there weren’t you?” I nod and he looks quite impressed, but nevertheless still surprised. “Well, the dementors switched their loyalties to the Dark Lord and no one who was put in Azkaban generally stayed there, and my father was no exception. He was home within two weeks and Death Eaters were swarming at our house. The Dark side need fighters and my father believed that I could be of use to them, so he started paving the way from my initiation process. I didn’t meet Voldemort until this past Christmas holiday, but even before then, I knew that I didn’t want to follow in my father’s footsteps. He had whipped me, a lot, over some little thing that I can’t even remember anymore, and I started to doubt him, doubt his power over me, the power to dictate my beliefs and actions. I’m not really sure whether that was because of the whipping or if it was because I was finally old enough to start thinking entirely for myself, or if it was a combination of both, but when I was lying on the floor, after my father had left that night, I vowed that I was finished with him and his dirty work and that I would never follow in his footsteps.
“Like I said, I met Voldemort this past Christmas. My father still thought that I was loyal to him and the cause, and I had managed to keep up the charade, not really sure what to do, but the moment that I saw that horrible, ugly, filthy, inhuman face, I nearly broke! Ginny, I don’t know how to describe it, and I say ‘it’ because Voldemort is not a person, but all I can say is that is haunts my dreams many nights.” Draco stopped speaking for a second, his eyes closed as Ginny checked his broken bones, making sure that they were still realigned in the proper way. “My father called me to him last week, as I’m sure you’ve guessed, and I got permission from Dumbledore to leave school for the weekend to see my parents. When I returned home to the Manor, my father was in this state of nervous excitement, and finally he told me what everything was all about. Initiation. There were seven Hogwarts seventh years being initiated into the Dark Lord’s circle that weekend, and I was to be one of them.”
“Who else?” I ask, feeling this need to know who else of my brother’s year was despicable enough to allow themselves to be made a Death Eater.
“Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bullstrode, Harold Flint, and Gemma Carves. I refused as soon as my father told me. Flat out refused. He looked like he was going to kill me, and I was scared as shit that he was. He grabbed me this, I don’t know, inhuman strength, and dragged me all the way through the Manor and back to that room where he had whipped me. He had his way with me and left me there, saying that he hoped that I would have changed my mind be the next initiation ceremony. I escaped that room, I’m not sure how, and I made it outside to my broom, which I had ridden to the Manor, and somehow made it back to Hogwart’s where you found me. End of story.”
I sit in amazement, not really sure what to say to his story, and even if I did have something to say I’m not completely sure that I could say it given the fact that my insides are completely choked up with tears.
He speaks once more. “So, that is obviously the reason that I don’t associate with Crabbe and Goyle anymore, or with any of the rest of the Slytherins.”
“That would make sense,” I reply, smiling a little to break the tenseness. Draco grins back at me. I look back over his bare chest, proud of myself at the lack of bruises and markings that are visible. “You’re not in the best shape ever, but you’re healing a hell of a lot faster than last time.”
“I have a great nurse,” he says, smiling at me and kissing the palm of my hand. He stands up and walks over to his chest of drawers, and I follow him. He retrieves a t-shirt and slips it over his head and turns to me, pulling me close and dropping a light kiss onto my lips before backing away slightly. I can tell he is unsure of what to do next.
I blush, and my mind remembers my other topic. My vow. I take a deep breath, and muster all of my courage. When it does come it, it’s more of a blurt than anything else that even closely resembles a normal sentence. “I-think-I-like-you-but-I-don’t-really-know-what’s-going-on-here-and-I-don’t-really-know-if-you-like-me-and-I’m-so-confused!”
He stares at me blankly for a moment and I can almost here the clogs of his brain working to decode what I’ve just admitted to him. Suddenly, his face clears, and I know that he knows, so I bite my lip in embarrassment, and I look away. And boy do I feel like a fool.
“Ginny -” He laughs, and the sound infuriates me because I think that he’s making fun of me. I glare at him. Hard. One that I’m sure will freeze his balls and never let them thaw. He sobers up instantaneously and reaches out to touch my face gently. “How could you ever doubt that I like you? I like you so much it hurts, Ginny! And I’m confused too. It’s like I’ve gone all soft, and it doesn’t feel like me, and you’re doing that to me, and I don’t really understand it, but, I, I think I’m falling in love with you.”
I don’t even know what to think, I’m to overwhelmed to even react. I just stare at him, mouth open, eyes wide, and all I can do is just stare into his beautiful face and soak in the look in his eyes.
“Ginny?” he whispers, reaching out to touch my face. “Are you there? Can you say something? Please?”
“I, I – it’s only been a week?” I say, blurting out the first thing that comes to my mind.
He grins, letting out a short burst of laughter. “A week? You think that that’s not long enough to learn to love someone? You think that that’s not long enough to find someone in your dreams every night? You think that just because we’ve only known each other for a week I don’t want you, Ginny?”
I can’t meet his gaze, scared of what I’ll see there, but his words causing my head to spin in cartwheels, and I don’t know what to say other than – “You don’t want me. You can’t want me. Not me. I’m just Ginny. Just Ginny!”
“Oh I want you, Ginny,” he rasps, pushing me up against the wall behind me, his breath hot against my face, his voice wavering. “I want you. You’ve tempted me for so long, and I know that it’s not just me that wants this. Am I right?”
I whimper in response, unable to force out any other sounds for the time being. My mind is on overload, and I don’t know how to react. All I know is that this feels so damn good, and that I like this rough side of him. A lot. I lift my eyes to meet his and swallow hard as I study the once silver and now near black orbs that are so damn beautiful it makes me want to cry.
He closes the gap between us, pressing his lips roughly against my own, his tongue snaking out to brush against my lips. I groan and open my mouth to him, desperate to deepen this kiss, which he does.
My hands wander underneath his t-shirt and across the map of disappearing bruises and scars along his broad torso, and he pulls back to look into my eyes, gasping, to catch his breath, which I too am doing. My hands move higher up his chest to gently explore the expanse of skin, and he catches my hands in his own.
“Ginny,” he murmurs, a warning look in his eye. “I need you. I don’t care if it’s been a week. To me it feels like a month, a year, our whole damn lives, and if you don’t think that we can go that far now, then you can’t do this, you can’t tempt me this much. It’s your choice.”
I lick my lower lip slowly, and enjoy seeing him visibly squirm at the sight of it. My decision is made, and I know that I will have no regrets – Harry, Hermione, Ron, and the others can go to hell if they don’t like what I’m doing. In one sudden motion, I’ve pushed him back into the chair that he was sitting on earlier, and I’m straddling him. His eyes darken more than I ever thought possible, and I push my body firm against his, feeling him hard against my center. He lifts his head to try and kiss me, and I back my own head away, a teasing grin on my face.
“Ground rules first,” I say, holding up a finger. He begins to make a noise of protest, so I grind myself against him once, and he’s quickly putty in my hands once more. “One, this can’t be to fast, we’re both virgins. Two, if we do this, you must promise to stay away from your father for good. I don’t care if it’s Diagon Alley that you stay, or in London, or here at Hogwart’s with me, although that would be preferable. You must just promise to stay away from him. Wizard’s vow on that point.” I pause and look at him pointedly, and he solemnly nods in response, binding him to the agreement. “And three, we must use protection. Agreed?”
He quickly nods his head, and after grabbing my wand and casting the birth control charms on each of us, I relax into his embrace, allowing him to start up where we left off. My hands quickly find their way back to his chest, and his slip under the black satin of my tank top, caressing the soft, pale skin there.
I tremble in anticipation as we progress farther and farther, allowing our hands to roam places that they’ve never been allowed to visit in times past. My mind slowly becomes hazy and I am barely able to create words with my mouth. I moan softly as Draco takes the kiss even a notch higher, deeper than I ever thought possible, crushing my face with his hands and mouth. I don’t think that I have ever felt anything this good in my whole entire sixteen years of existence. Surely this is proof that there is a heaven – surely I’m there.
He shifts us off of the chair that we are highly in danger of tipping over with our actions, and carries me towards the bed, holding my legs firmly around his waist. I tear my mouth away from his to look at the den of feather quilts and satin sheets, shivering in delight. Draco follows my eyes and smiles wickedly, lowering me back into the bed, and we start a night that I’m sure that neither of us will ever forget…
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My first conscious thought as I wake up on Sunday morning is ‘uggh, there is something wet and hot on top of me, get it off.’ And suddenly I realize what that wet, hot thing is. Draco. I open my eyes and look down to see his head in the crook of my neck, half on top of my chest, his arms wrapped firmly around my torso, and his legs trapping mine in between them. In all actuality, he is half on top me.
I let the memories wash back over me, and I regret nothing that we did, and I’m glad of it, but I know now that since we have taken such a large step in our relationship, I do have to tell Hermione, and I do have to sort things out with Harry.
I move to slip out of the bed and prepare for the day when I feel Draco’s arms tighten around me, and his mouth moves against the top of my left breast, “No. Don’t go.”
“Draco, it’s almost one in the afternoon, and I need to talk to Hermione,” I whisper, stroking his downy soft blonde hair.
“I’m so tired,” he whispers, not opening his eyes as he slides farther up my body so that we’re lying forehead to forehead.
“I know,” I say, stroking his face gently, watching it relax under my hands. “You stay here, and I’ll be back tonight.”
“You’re not changing your mind?” he asks, his eyes opening for the first time. He looks worried, fearful, and I smile to reassure him.
“Not a chance in hell, Draco,” I reply, leaning in to kiss him lightly. “I think I’m starting to fall in love with you.”
“Glad to hear it.”
He grins and his eyes fall closed once more, his breathing deep and even. Our activities of the previous night were really a bit too much for him so early, but the only consequences are just a bit more sleepiness on his part, so he was ready for that. That and I woke up a couple of times during the night to find him watching me closely, his expression warm, and loving. If he was watching me sleep, then he wasn’t sleeping himself.
I disentangle myself from him, this time without protest on his part, and I slip out of bed, making my way over to the other side of the room. I don’t have an extra t-shirt to wear, so after picking up my flowy drawstring pants that I had worn the day before, collected my undergarments from beside the bed, and selected a white t-shirt from Draco’s drawer, I entered the bathroom and quickly showered. I toweled off, pulled on my clothes, found Draco’s slippers to wear, put my hair into a bun, and made my way out of the room and to the door of Hermione’s.
I stood for about a minute just looking at the picture, gathering up my courage, contemplating how to tell her everything that has changed with me in the past week. Goodness. I still can’t really believe that it’s only been a week.
“Asphodel,” I whisper, and the portrait swings open, granting me entry. I step inside quickly and let my eyes glance around the room.
Hermione is sitting on the sofa, nose in a book as usual, and Harry is sitting on the floor in front of her, head in her lap. The fire is going, and the lights are out, and the one window was covered to promote darkness, creating a look as if it were the middle of the night.
“Hermione?” I call quietly, announcing my presence in the room. Harry sits up so suddenly that you would think someone had hurt him, and guiltily I realized that someone had. Me. I glance over to him but am rewarded with a look of hatred and hurt and anger that pierces my heart a little further, making this ordeal even harder than it already is.
“Ginny,” Hermione says, smiling warmly at me, rising off of the couch to meet me. She comes over to me and wraps her arms around me in a tight hug as Harry broods in the corner, not looking at me. The feeling of love that emanates from Hermione’s embrace breaks through my emotional wall, and I start to sob into her shoulder, ashamed that I’ve been lying to her, that I’ve been hiding things from her. “Shh, Ginny, it’s alright. Shhh. It’s okay sweetie. What’s wrong?”
“I-I, uh, I ne-need to t-talk t-to you,” I choke out between hiccups and sobs. Hermione pulls me over to the sofa and sits me down, producing a warm fleecy blanket with a wave of her wand. She then proceeds to procure a tray of chicken soup and hot chocolate, also from her wand and in the midst of my emotional haze I realize that with a wand, this woman can really do anything. She kneels before me, wrapping the blanket around me, shielding me in a cocoon of warmth, and then she lifts the mug of hot chocolate to my hands, closing my grip around them.
“Drink,” she commands, and I take a hesitant sip from the steaming mug, the warmth and taste of the chocolate already making me feel a little better.
“Harry, darling,” she says softly, getting up from her kneeling position in front of me and making her way over to the silent brown-haired boy. “Can you leave us alone for a few hours?”
He leans over and whispers something in her ear and she replies, but their conversation is to soft for me to hear. They finish it when Harry wraps his arms around her and kisses her softly before letting go and disappearing silently from her room.
Hermione seats herself next to me on the couch and I set down my cup of hot chocolate, mustering all the strength I have. “Hermione?”
“Ginny?”
“If I tell you something, will you promise not to get extremely angry or tell my brother?” I ask, glad that my hiccups have gone for a moment.
“I promise, Ginny,” she says, her voice soothing my tattered nerves as she strokes my hair with her soft hands.
“I- I slept with Draco Malfoy,” I blurt out before I really have the chance to think them through. The words aren’t quite the ones that I had intended to use, but I suppose that they have the same effect.
I don’t dare look into her face, for fear of seeing the anger and disapproval there that I knows that I deserve. Not disapproval for sleeping with Draco – no one can make me ashamed of that – but disapproval for hiding our circumstances from her.
“Ginny,” she says, her voice comforting. I make no move, and I feel her hand touching my cheek, guiding it upwards so that I am looking directly into her eyes. “Ginny, I’m not angry. I already know…”
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Please review, this is my first Draco/Ginny(or any) fanfic, and like all other authors, reviews are what keep me going!
Um, yeah, so it’s a bit shorter than I would have liked, but I’m quite proud of this particular chapter. Lord knows I can’t write love scenes or kissing scenes. For goodness sake, I can’t even think them through properly, and I have to think everything through completely to make sure I get the details right, but when it comes to things like this I’m lost. But I think I did okay, but I guess it’s ultimately up to you guys. What did you think of it?
Hurt Loves
Chapter 8
Aravaeya
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Right, yes, I know! It’s been a month! I know! But I had a wonderful time in the States if any of you care, and I finally have a chapter ready for you. Damn, this story is way longer than I ever expected it to be!
But first, as always is the case when I get a batch of amazing reviews, I must thank each reviewer personally. (Review for ff.net reviewers taken out)
AND NOW ONTO THE STORY!
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“Ginny,” she says, her voice comforting. I make no move, and I feel her hand touching my cheek, guiding it upwards so that I am looking directly into her eyes. “Ginny, I’m not angry. I already know.”
I look up sharply, hiccupping once, loudly, at the sudden movement. “W-what? You know? How?” (Author’s insert inspired by a reviewer: “Are the walls in this castle really that thin?”)
“Well, I didn’t actually think that you’d gone quite that far,” Hermione says, shrugging slightly and putting her arm around me, “But I heard parts of the whole story from a certain boyfriend we all know and sometimes love.”
I clench my fists together in an attempt to curb the anger washing through me. “Harry told you? He told you! That bag of chicken shit! I-I-”
“Ginny,” Hermione interrupts, looking into my eyes, “He was angry, and he was hurting. It’s not really an excuse to betray something that personal, but take that into account. He told me about the fight that you had, and he was mad at you. He wanted retaliation, revenge, and so he told me. I’m sure he didn’t tell me the whole story, but enough that I got the gist of what’s been going on and where you’ve been going off to. I’m sure he regrets it now and wishes he hadn’t told me. He seemed to last night.”
“So you know and you’re not angry with me?” I ask, hardly daring to believe it.
“Well, not anymore,” she replies, grinning wryly at me. “I was a bit more upset last night, and you’re incredibly lucky I didn’t get my hands on you, but I’ve had the entire night to think things through, and I’m not as angry anymore.”
“How can you not be as angry, Herm?” I ask, glancing away from her to let my eyes be dazzled by the red flames of the fire. ‘I lied to you, I didn’t tell you where I was going, what I was doing, who that owl was from!”
“Gin, I would have done the same if I was in your place, believe me,” Hermione replies, and her words soothe my weakened spirit. “Do you want to tell me everything that’s happened between you, and how your ankle fits into the story?”
I grin through my trickles of tears and start my story once more.
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“Maybe you should go next door and see how Draco’s doing, you’ve been here for quite awhile,” Hermione says, flicking a strand of her long brown hair away from her face as she settles back a little more snugly into the couch.
“But what am I supposed to do about Harry, Herm?” I ask, folding my blanket into a neat square and placing it onto the arm of the setee. “And what should Draco and I do about keeping him safe?”
Hermione gets up and helps pull me off of the couching, looking thoughtful. “Harry will cool down in time and the two of you will be able to sort things out, but about Draco…Why don’t you over there, clean him up and get him presentable and I’ll come over in half an hour and we can talk about the possibilities?”
“Okay,” I say after a moments hesitation. Hopefully I can prepare Draco for the intrusion of yet another unwanted person into his room. I lean in and give Hermione a light kiss on the cheek as she shows me to her door. “See ya in a half hour. Oh, and the password is buttercup.”
I hear her let out a burst of laughter and I know that she’s going to ask why that’s his password, but I’m already gone.
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“Draco?” I ask quietly as I slip back into his bedroom. I get no reply, so I slowly walk up closer towards his bed. Sprawled out across the middle of the large bed is the boy that I am looking for. The covers have been completely thrown aside save for a sheet which just manages to cover the necessary bits from my wandering eyes. Do I wake him or not? I deliberate for a moment and then move towards the bed. I reach out to gently shake him when I am startled by a sudden movement, He flings his arm out across the remaining unoccupied space on the bed and utters a loud snorting sort of noise. I can’t hold back a torrent of laughter at the ungodly noise and cover my mouth with both of my hands to try and stifle the noise, but to no avail. Draco stirs and one of his eyes drifts open, taking me in. He smiles at me and reaches out a hand towards me.
“What’s so funny?” He asks, attempting to pull me onto the bed. “Care to share?”
“Y-you snorted!” I exclaim, falling into a fit of giggles once more. The look on his face is utterly priceless, a mixture of incredulity and horror, but he does not reply, choosing instead to turn an amusing shade of ‘embarrassed crimson’. I lean over and press a soft kiss to his lips. I’m still a little shy about all of this, despite last night. It was…interesting. It wasn’t like the Witches Weekly Top Ten Romance Novels where the man and woman come together for a perfect night of…perfectness? No, Draco and I are, to my utmost relief, much more human. We had our share of awkward moments, but thankfully, we laughed. Laughter is always the best medicine.
“How was your talk with Granger?” Draco asks me after pressing a kiss of his own to my mouth.
“Hermione,” I correct him in a gentle voice. “She’s my best friend, and her name’s Hermione, not Granger.”
Draco purses his lips and nods slightly. “Hermione.”
I smile and kiss his cheek as a reward and then settle back down onto the bed next to him so that we’re each facing each other with our heads resting on our elbows. “When I got there, Harry was there, and apparently, he’s still furious with me, because he kept throwing me dirty looks and wouldn’t come near me--”
“You don’t need bloody Harry Potter anyways,” Draco interrupts me, contempt spilling out in his voice. I silence him with a gentle finger to the mouth.
“He’s my brother.”
“He’s not your brother, Ginny, he’s your brother’s best friend,” Draco says in an effort to correct me.
“No, he’s my brother,” I reply, sticking to my earlier statement, “He’s more my brother than any of the other brother’s I have.”
Draco watches me with his silver gray eyes, waiting for me to continue.
“I told Hermione about us--”
“Was she angry?” Draco interjected.
“—No, she wasn’t, thank goodness. She had already known, so I filled in the details for her. And we talked about what you should do to stay safe.” I really hope that he won’t be angry that I’ve agreed to her coming over here.
“Did she have any ideas?” Draco asks, pulling himself up into a sitting position, causing the sheet that was covering to fall just a little lower than would be considered safe. I avert my eyes, trying to coax myself into thinking of something other than…that…at this time.
“She’s coming over here in about twenty five minutes to discuss it with us,” I say, inwardly holding my breath. He just looks at me in silence for minute and then slowly nods his head, as if accepting the fact that along with me comes my friends, no matter how much he dislikes them.
“I better take a shower,” he says, and he leans over, pressing a series of feather-light kisses across my face, letting me know that all is forgiven and that he is not angry with me for allowing Hermione to come – and why should he be, after all, she is coming to help him. But I suppose there are some fights which are never quite put to rest. I hope that this is not one of them.
He squeezes my hand and slips out of bed, grabbing his robe to cover himself as he walks to the bathroom. I smile to myself, amused by his shyness around me, but acknowledging to myself that if it was me who were in that position I most likely would have done the same thing. Both of us are quite shy in our own ways and will probably creep around each other for awhile, neither of us really ready to be completely open and carefree just quite yet.
I hear the shower turn on in the bathroom where the door is still open – I smile at this, feeling a very naughty urge to go and peek – and I glance around the room, attempting to find some useful endeavor to pass my time until Hermione comes. As I survey the room around me, it suddenly strikes me as looking like a place where two people recently had slept together. There are clothes in all sorts of strange places – why is my pajama top hanging from an arm of the chandelier? – a chair is tipped over, the bed is an absolute wreck.. I blush furiously at the memories of how these things came to be that way flow unbidden into my mind, and I quickly set about making the room appear presentable. I find all the clothes we discarded as well as all sorts of items of clothing that Draco has just left lying around from the past couple of days and place them in the basket for soiled laundry that is just inside the bathroom. I pick up the chair – which was on the wrong side of the room as well, only God knows why or how it got there, I certainly don’t remember anything about a chair – and maneuver it back over to the correct place, arranging all the chairs properly around the table. Surveying the piles of papers on both the dining table and the coffee table, I glance around the room, looking for a place to put them where they won’t get lost. My eyes fall on the writing desk in the opposite corner of the room. I gather up all of the papers and books into my arms and carry them over to the desk, lifting up the cover and depositing them inside. Next is the bed. I wander over to it, and over the course of the next few minutes – the bed is extremely large, do not forget, therefore taking a long time to make, especially by one’s self – I straighten it out, rearranging the sheets and the beautiful duvet on top. I tie back the curtains, finishing the last one just as I feel a hand slip around my waist.
I draw in a deep breath, slightly surprised at Draco’s actions – I hadn’t even noticed it when the noise of the shower had ceased to reach my ears, another sign of how distracted and deep in thought I was - and I turn to face him. He looks good enough to eat, his blond hair combed loosely behind his ears, his black t shirt just tight enough to reveal his incredible seeker’s body, and his muggle Adidas track pants, not anything special in themselves, but completing his scrumptious image perfectly. He grins wickedly at me and pulls me to him, his mouth coming down directly upon my own before I even process what he’s doing. I groan into his mouth, overwhelmed with all of these new sensations that I don’t ever think that I will tire of. His other arm winds around my waist as well, pulling me closer to him so that I molded to his body. I move my arms from their resting place on his chest and place them at the base of his back, surreptitiously allowing them to creep gently underneath his t-shirt to caress the bare skin of the small of his back as he tilts his head against mine even more, his tongue penetrating my mouth.
“Ginny,” he whispers against my forehead as we separate to draw breath.
“Mmm?” is all I manage to say, my mind to preoccupied with what he’s doing to me with his hands.
“I’m so glad you found me in that hallway,” he replies, his lips drifting across my cheeks and nose lightly and softly before coming to rest once more on my seeking mouth.
“Me too,” I murmur in reply, backing away to plant a soft kiss on his jaw line as he entwines his fingers within the messiness of my massive bun. “Me too.”
He grins at my repetition and brings his hands around to cup my face, palms warm against my flushed cheeks. “Think we have time for a quick go before Hermione gets here?”
I turn crimson and my eyes widen involuntarily at his proposal, but I roll my eyes as I realize he is only joking. His eyes are sparkling with mischievousness and a streak of desire and he leans down, his lips perilously close to my ear, to whisper something to me. “Believe me, Ginny, if she wasn’t coming, there would be nothing stopping me.”
Instead of replying, I pull his face down to mine, fusing our lips together once more, and we allow ourselves to get lost in our enthusiasm. He walks me backwards until the backs of my thighs are pressed against the side of his bed, and he pushes me back onto it, following me so that he is lying on top of me. I feel warm, savored, content. I feel…loved?
“Ahem.” Hermione’s voice is unmistakable.
“Shit,” Draco exclaims quietly against my lips.
Draco and I look up, moving away from each other in a desperate attempt to put as much distance between us as we possibly can as if that by doing so we can erase our actions from our visitor’s mind. I know that I am red, I can feel it, and I feel remarkably like the child whose hand got stuck in the cookie jar and was caught trying to sneak a cookie. I grin slightly at Hermione, and suddenly my face morphs into one of horror, because there, standing next to Hermione in all of his superior glory is none other than…Harry.
“Harry?” I squeak out, chancing a glance at Draco, and I can see that Draco has seen both of my friends because he is desperately trying to avoid eye contact with either of them.
Harry just looks at me, his face expressionless, a mask that I cannot, for the life of me, read. I move my gaze over to Hermione, who is standing right next to him, an smile playing around her lips and an amused glint in her eyes. It is she who breaks the embarrassed silence that has descended upon our small group. “Shall we sit down?”
I, who am closest to the arrangement of chairs, am the first to sit down. I sink back into the loveseat, and Draco sits next to me, although he is careful to leave a respectable amount of distance between us. Hermione sits in the wingback chair next to me, to the right of the couch, and Harry, rather than sitting in the wingback chair next to Draco on the left side of the couch, opts for standing behind Hermione’s chair, in an oddly protective manner, as if he expects Draco to grow fangs, or wings, or make some ludicrous attack at any moment. Hermione does not argue with his decision, and turns to face us, her face relaxed, her eyes warm and caring, soothing out some of the tension in the room, at least for me anyways.
“Malfoy, I hope you don’t mind us coming here to discuss your – unfortunate predicament,” Hermione starts, looking directly at him. “And I hope we didn’t interrupt anything too important.”
Draco turns his eyes to meet hers from where they were resting on the heirloom clock on the mantelpiece, eyes a little wider than usual in surprise at Hermione’s play of words. “No, nothing was interrupted, and,” he pauses for a moment, eyebrows furrowed in what looks to be intense frustration, as if he’s trying to figure out how to do or say something, “T-thank you for coming.
A satisfied grin blossoms across Hermione’s face as she processes Draco’s words of thanks, and even Harry looks stunned. I can just see the thought’s running through his head, “Malfoy, saying thank you? Has Ginny threatened him with the Death Penalty if he’s not nice? Has he lost his mind?” I must say that I am quite proud of him. I know that it is not easy for him to say thank you, especially to people whom he has had an on and off bitter feud with from practically the first day of their schooling here at Hogwarts. But then again, things do change. I don’t think that Draco’s the person that he was when their differences started, and to be honest with you, I don’t think that Harry and Hermione are the same people that they were when they started at Hogwart’s either. For one thing, Harry has softened a lot since he and Hermione became inseparable. He’s not as moody and doesn’t get as angry about things, which seems a funny thing for me to say taking into account the major spats that Harry and I have being having on regular occasions recently, but it is true.
“You’re welcome…Draco,” she says, trying out his first name. I smile encouragingly at her, and she flashes me a small smile as she glances my way. I look to Draco and study his face, the set of his eyebrows, the angles of the corners of his mouth. He is skeptical, I think. “To be honest with you, I don’t think that the four of us are going to be able to come up with any wonderfully bright ideas. Your father is a smart man and I am sure that he would find you if you were hidden outside of Hogwarts. If you were hidden inside of Hogwarts I think that you might have better chances of staying hidden, but then again, your father can obviously get inside of Hogwarts as well, so even if you were kept here, I’m sure he’d find you.”
“So you’re saying that there isn’t anything that we can do,” Draco says, a slight edge in his voice.
“There must be something, Hermione. We can’t just do nothing! Think!” I say, trying not to let my desperation become too apparent in my voice. I feel eyes on me and as I glance up, I see Harry studying me with a curious, but soft expression on his face.
“I’m not saying that there isn’t anything, I’m just saying that I don’t think that hiding will work particularly well,” Hermione says, picking up my hand and giving me a small squeeze of reassurance.
“You think that there’s another way to keep me safe without hiding me?” Draco asks, disbelief clearly apparent in his voice.
“Yes, I do,” Hermione says, straightening the hem of her shirt as she speaks, something that I know is one of her nervous habits. “The Fidelius Charm.”
My lips form a perfect ‘oh’ as I recognize the name of the charm, and I see it on Draco’s and Harry’s faces when they make the connection as well.
“The Fidelius,” Draco says thoughtfully, furrowing his eyebrows in an interestingly Harry-like manner. “It could actually work, Granger.”
Harry growls at Draco and steps forward in a threatening manner, but Hermione holds up a hand to stop him, saying nothing of Draco’s use of the name ‘Granger’. “I think that we should talk to Dumbledore though. He has more knowledge about hiding people than anyone else I’ve ever heard of.”
Draco and I nod in agreement, although I can see on Draco’s face that if it were up to him and if he weren’t in such danger he would rather not go and see Dumbledore.
“When shall we go and see him?” I ask, glancing in between Hermione and a thoughtful looking Draco.
“Do you want to go and get it over with now?” He asks, glancing between me and Hermione. I nod in consent, as do Hermione and an obviously reluctant Harry.
Draco grabs a pair of trainers and slips them on as the rest of us stand up and get ready to go.
~~)~*~(~~
“Hunkleberry Pops,” Hermione states as we stand in the corridor outside of Dumbledore’s office. Draco and I stand next to each other, behind Harry and Hermione, and desperately wait for the staircase to fully appear so that we can escape the hallway. Eyes everywhere seem to be peeking out at the four of us, and whispers were barely concealed as we passed. I know what’s running through their heads, ‘what’s Malfoy doing with Potter, Granger, and Weasley?’, but I didn’t think that their odd looks would bug me so much.
We step onto the staircase and make our way up to the door that conceals Dumbledore’s office.
“Ever been here before?” Draco whispers in my ear, taking my hand in his own. I can feel him trembling slightly, and his skin is deathly cold.
“Yes,” I reply, smiling warmly at him as the door swings open before us. We slowly walk inside and I watch Draco take in the room with wide eyes.
“Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, what a pleasure,” Dumbledore’s voice calls out from behind his desk. I hear him get up as we enter the room, and I see him give my friends a beaming smile. And then his gaze turns on Draco and me. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to see us here, or at all surprised by the fact that we’re holding hands, which I am positive his sweeping gaze took in because his mouth twitched up into a smile slightly as he passed them. “And Miss Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. Very nice to finally see you two here together. I’ve been wondering when you would come…”
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What did you think? Horrible? Okay? Yes, I know it’s not as good as I would have like, but it’s hard to write a good fanfiction, damnit! But I do try! :) And you know the drill. Reviewing makes me sooooo happy!
Hurt Loves
Chapter 9
Aravaeya
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I am terribly, terribly sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. I had a severe case of writer’s block. I had originally planned this fic to just be a one-shot or extremely short, something like two chapters or so. Quite obviously, it is not, which is probably mostly attributable to the fact that I tend to be long-winded and wordy(sorry) and pay way to much attention to detail and things that don’t need to be focused on, but hey, it’s me, that’s what makes you love me, right? :) Just kidding. So, yeah, this is Chapter 10, probably halfway through the entire fic, maybe less now that I have a sketchy plan(which with me is always liable to change depending on my mood). I tried to make it a bit lighter, not as serious as some of the other chapters that I wrote when I was in fouler moods, so make the most of it people. Oh, and I’m pleased to say that this is the longest chapter I’ve written so far, with over 7,500 words, 15 and ½ pages in Word! But it still seems like nothing :( And I totally blew off Geography coursework to do this as this was much more pleasant. Who cares about University? Just kidding once more.
Anyways, as always, I own none of it, and THANK YOU SOOOOOO MUCH to all of the reviewers! I’m over 100 reviews which I never ever anticipated! You make this SOOOOOOOOO worth it and I love you all! Keep on writing them and I’ll keep writing this. Deal? Good.
Now onto the next chapter! Yay!
(I’m actually quite excited about the weird surprise which has nothing to do with Draco/Ginny but adds a different side to the story which my sleep deprived brain came up with randomly. Have fun!)
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“Miss Granger and Mr. Potter, what a pleasure,” Dumbledore’s voice calls out from behind his desk. I hear him get up as we enter the room, and I see him give my friends a beaming smile. And then his gaze turns on Draco and me. He doesn’t seem at all surprised to see us here, or at all surprised by the fact that we’re holding hands, which I am positive his sweeping gaze took in because his mouth twitched up into a smile slightly as he passed them. “And Miss Weasley and Mr. Malfoy. Very nice to finally see you two here together. I’ve been wondering when you would come…”
I know that the look on my face morphs into one of surprise at our headmasters’ words. Expecting us? He knew that we would come? He knows about…us? Is that what he’s implying?
“Excuse me?” Draco asks, his face, as well as Harry’s and Hermione’s, mirroring the confusion of my own.
“Surely you did not think that Miss Weasley’s nightly escapades escaped my notice?” Dumbledore replies, eyes twinkling as he looks at me.
The expression in my face and my friends’ faces clearly says that we did think that he didn’t know. Harry just throws me an accusatory look that seems to say that if I was going to sneak around behind my friends backs, I should be more careful about it. Dumbledore nods slightly and tilts his head to the side gently, his eyes thoughtful as if debating whether or not to tell us something.
“There is very little that goes on in this castle that I do not know about,” Dumbledore says, his voice serious, but his eyes alight once more. He turns away from us and walks over to what looks like an extremely large blank portrait hanging on one of the walls. He mutters something incomprehensible and to my fascination, a map slowly becomes invisible. I feel drawn to it and walk over to it before I realize what I am doing. I can quickly see that every student, every animal, every house elf, every staff member, any living or breathing thing on the Hogwarts grounds, is listed on this map which shows, in great detail, every room, hallway, and secret passage or room in the castle. Justin Finch-Fletchley’s name catches my eyes, and I see that his dot seems a bit larger than the rest and then I notice that there is another name that goes with the dot – Hannah Abbot. I look to Dumbledore, and point at the enlarged dot, my question in my eyes.
“That is precisely how I found out about you and Mr. Malfoy, Miss Weasley,” Dumbledore says to me, his blue eyes bright with laughter, “And Harry and Hermione all those months ago. When you can’t tell the two dots apart, when they’re almost one dot, one person, you know that those two dots are...well, you know how things are between you, so I’m sure you can figure it out…”
With a flash of realization, I realize what the combined dot of Hannah and Justin means, and I blush a little. “Oh.”
“I was observing this the other night, looking for students out in the hallways and I saw your dot moving along the Head Boy’s and Girl’s corridor under an invisibility cloak – for the map tells when a person is under an invisibility cloak. I naturally assumed that you were going to see Hermione, as I have observed you do many times before. I saw Mr. Malfoy’s dot moving up the hallway, and then Mr. Filch’s and Mrs. Norris’s not far behind, but thought nothing of it until Draco reached you and you put the invisibility cloak around him. I have often looked for you on the map since…” he let his voice drift off into silence before shaking his head and turning to look at the four of us once more. “But that is not what you’ve come here to talk about is it?”
“No, Professor,” Hermione says, taking the lead in this conversation. “We’ve come to get your advice on something.”
“Advice?” Dumbledore asks us, moving to sit in his chair and motioning for us to sit in the four chairs that he subsequently conjures up. I take one of the middle seats, with Draco taking the one next to me on the end and Hermione taking the one on the other side. Harry takes the seat on the other side of Hermione and just stares at the portraits on the wall, looking as if he is uninterested, but I can see by the set of his jaw that he is paying attention. “Of what sort?”
After glancing at the others, I speak. “We need to know what we can about charms to hide people, specifically, the Fidelius Charm.”
“Ah,” he says, understanding blossoming upon his face. “You wish to hide Mr. Malfoy.”
Hermione and I nod in response to Dumbledore’s statement.
“It is, to be sure, a powerful charm, and may be the one that we need here, but young Draco cannot stay under a charm forever in an attempt to hide. He will eventually have to decide which side to take and subsequently face the consequences of that choice.” Dumbledore pauses for a moment and looks at each in turn, stopping a little longer to study Harry studiously trying to appear as if he is not paying attention. “Do you feel as if you are ready to make that decision yet, Draco?”
I bite my lip and glance at Draco and his fists which are clenched tightly on his lap. I impulsively reach over and touch one of his fists with one of my hands, willing him with my mind to relax. His face is a mask and I can’t read a thing. He takes a breath and lets it out again, shaking his head slightly. The room is silent for another thirty seconds or so while everyone waits for him to speak. “I will be on whatever side is opposite of the one that my father is on.”
Dumbledore surveys Draco over his steepled fingertips, eyes and face guarded. “That puts you, I suppose, on our side, does it not?”
Draco shrugs, glances at me fleetingly, and nods. “Yes, sir. I suppose it does.”
“Are you ready to commit yourself entirely to our cause? This cannot just be about revenge for you. We will help you even if you aren’t a member, but I must stress that the only way that you can ever be free of your father’s reach is to eliminate the source of it, and the most sure way to do that is to fight for it,” Dumbledore says, his voice soft, strangely reassuring despite the unsavory topic.
Draco is silent once more, his face this time betraying his uncertainties, his fears, and every eye in the room is on him, including Harry’s. He folds his hands together, and looks up at me, and I can just sense that he is thinking about what he told me the other night, about Voldemort, about his inhumanness, about the things that his father did to him. He takes a deep breath and looks Dumbledore straight in the eye. “I will commit. I cannot – will not – serve that, that thing that my father calls master. It is unthinkable, it’s, it’s wrong. I will help, although I am not sure that I can be much help to you now.” He sighs in relief, as if glad to be free of the weight of making that decision, glad to finally have chosen a side to fight for.
I sigh a sigh of happy relief, Dumbledore smiles warmly at Draco, Hermione beams and reaches over me to pat his hand reassuringly for a moment, and Harry just looks at Draco with complete and utter amazement upon his face.
“Well, then Draco, welcome to the Order of the Phoenix,” Dumbledore says, coming around to stand before Draco’s chair. I release Draco’s hand as he stands up and tentatively takes the one that Dumbledore has offered in a brief shake.
“Headmaster, Sir,” Harry says, standing up and speaking for the first time, “You cannot truly be letting him into the Order of the Phoenix, this could be a trap, think about it logically, I beg you. He is a Malfoy.”
I stare daggers at Harry, Hermione shifts uncomfortably, biting her lip, and Draco and Harry just stare at each other in silence, neither of their faces betraying any emotions whatsoever. I hold my breath as Dumbledore contemplates what Harry has just said. “Harry, my boy, you are right, he is a Malfoy, but that is not the crucial point of information. The crucial point of information is that he is Draco Malfoy, and not, as you seem to think, his father.”
“B-but-” Harry sputters, his face clearly showing his disbelief.
“Do not judge a person by what their father does, Harry,” Dumbledore says, holding up his hand to stop Harry’s protest. “I do not judge you for who your father was. I do not automatically assume that since your father and his mates were some of the biggest troublemakers Hogwarts has ever seen that you will be too.” Dumbledore pauses observing Harry’s uncomfortable squirms, and even though I know the enormity of the situation, I can’t hide a small smile, and I see that Hermione cannot either. “All right, so maybe that was not the best example given your…past history, but you see my point. Young Draco here is not his father. I have always seen something different in him, something that Lucius did not have, a heart. Some things just take time to shine through to the outside.”
I smile at Draco, and he looks surprised at Dumbledore’s words of praise. His expression matches the one on Harry’s face who seems stunned that Dumbledore is sticking up for his childhood nemesis, but I suppose that I can see where he’s coming from.
“I have always observed that young Miss Weasley here is a good assessor of peoples character and the fact that this new ‘bond’ has taken place between Virginia and Draco just cements in my mind the facts that I already knew,” Dumbledore concludes, smiling at me. “And so Harry, if you have no more objections-” He pauses and looks at Harry who bites his lip but says nothing, “-None? Good. Well, Draco Malfoy, it is my pleasure to welcome you into the Order of the Phoenix once more.”
“Thank you,” Draco says, looking uncomfortable at all of the attention. It’s not the he isn’t used to attention, because he was always one to try and stay in the spotlight, but the nature of this type of attention disconcerts him, and I grin slightly as I watch him squirm under our Headmaster’s gaze.
Dumbledore nods and smiles at him, and then moves in front of me. He takes my hands in his and smiles warmly, and I swear that I can hear him saying to me, “He is a good match for you, my dear Virginia, keep faith in him, and he will turn out well,” but his lips aren’t moving. He winks at me and I smile back in reply, nodding my head in thanks for his message.
“Miss Granger, it was a bold move for you to volunteer to help Draco considering your…past differences. I am very proud of you, you are truly one of the best Head Girls Hogwart’s has ever seen,” Dumbledore says, patting Hermione’s arm gently, “And Harry, your protection of Ginny is admirable, it rivals that of her brothers.” Dumbledore grins and Hermione attempts to hide a smile, and even Harry’s lips twitch up at that. “And now, moving onto the important details. I assume that the three of you would be on the list of people that would know of Draco’s whereabouts?”
I nod without hesitation, and after glancing quickly at Draco for affirmation, which he gives after a moment, Hermione nods too, followed promptly by Harry.
“I will now ask for a few moments alone with Mr. Malfoy to discuss the implications of this charm, and then he will be back with you,” Dumbledore says, smiling cordially at us all. “It was very nice to see you all, and now if you will wait outside I would be grateful.”
Draco shoots me a worried glance as I pass him on my way out behind Harry and Hermione and let my hand brush his briefly as I pass, whispering in his ear words of reassurance before following my friends through the door.
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Harry and Hermione are at the bottom of Dumbledore’s staircase waiting for me when I come down to the bottom, and I find that I really don’t know what to say to them.
“Harry, darling, I really have some work that I need to do in the library, and I’m sure that you and Ginny will want to talk, so why don’t I wait here and tell Draco you’ll meet him in his room later, Ginny, and you two can disappear for awhile,” Hermione said in a sugary sweet voice that clearly implied that what she had proposed was the only course of action that we would consider and that it would be followed to the latter or else. Harry did not look pleased with her suggestion, but when Hermione gently pulled his face down to hers for a deep smoldering kiss and gave him a playful pat on the bottom to send him in my direction he seemed much more amenable to the plan.
I nodded in agreement, and so he quickly laced his fingers with Hermione’s, brushing his mouth against hers and whispering ‘goodbye’, before we set off aimlessly down the hallway. I half-smiled at him, feeling awkward, and he did the same to me. We walked in silence for another thirty seconds or so before we both opened our mouths and spoke at the same time.
“Harry, I’m really sorry that-”
“Ginny, I really shouldn’t have-”
We stop in the middle of the deserted hallway and look at each other before we both start laughing at the sudden realization of the absurdity of it all.
“Ginny, I really shouldn’t have come down on you like that,” Harry says as our fits of laughter eventually subside, the mood between us considerably lighter and more comfortable, “We were both really cranky and tired and not thinking about what we were doing or saying. Can we forget about it and move on?”
“Harry, I’m sorry too, and I have to admit that you did raise some good points,” I say, looking slightly ashamed which truly does mirror my inner feelings at the moment. “I shouldn’t have been lying to you and Hermione, it was wrong, and I’m sorry.”
“And you raised some good points too,” he replies, shrugging in what appears to be a nonchalant manner. “If you had told us about it from the very beginning, we would never have let you go anywhere near his room, and I am too overprotective of you. And I’m really sorry for telling Hermione. It was a violation of your trust and privacy, and I regret it. It was inexcusable.”
“Harry, it’s okay,” I say, reaching out to touch his hand, “I think it worked out for the best, and now you and Hermione know and I don’t have to hide things from you. My concern now is how to tell Ron and Francesca.”
“Urgh, Ron,” Harry says, grimacing slightly, “I definitely sympathize with you there, Gin-bug.”
“Well, look at honestly,” I say nudging hi in the side with my elbow, happy that we’ve repaired things enough that he’s back to calling me Gin-bug. “Telling him can’t be any worse than telling you now, can it, Harry? I mean you’re pretty hard to beat.”
Harry rolls his eyes at me as he slings his arm around my shoulders as we continue our wander. “I will say no more bad things about yours and Draco’s relationship as long as you promise me one thing.”
“Yeah?” I ask, looking up at him.
“You must solemnly swear to never ever talk about how he is in bed within earshot of me,” he says, his face serious, but his eyes betraying a twinkle. I laugh and gently punch him in the ribs as we enter the Gryffindor common room.
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“Ginny!” Francesca squeals as I enter our tower room in what feels like the first time in forever. After relaxing for awhile in the common room I excused myself up to my dorm. “Where have you been? Your bed’s been empty, sweetie.”
“Hermione’s,” I say after a moments hesitation. “I hadn’t really seen her for awhile.”
“Oohh, girl talk,” Francesca says in a low voice, and I laugh, the normalcy of this friendly banter between me and my brother’s girlfriend comforting in this maelstrom of issues I have found myself in. “Any that you can spill to me? Like who you’re going to the Valentine’s Ball with?”
I fall back onto my bed in thought, and Francesca falls down next to me, head on her hand so that her face is looking down into mine. The Valentine’s ball. If you had asked me two weeks ago, I probably would have tried to get one of the cute boys in my brother’s year to take me, someone other than Seamus because he was my boyfriend last year, someone like Dean Thomas, or maybe even sweet, clumsy Neville. But now? If I went, I would go with Draco. There was no way that I would go with anyone else, but the question was, would Draco be going? Probably not, since the Fidelius Charm would have to put on him soon. What a shame. “I-I don’t know, Cesca. I don’t really know if I want to go to the Ball. I mean, I’m kind of on an anti-boys streak right not.”
“What?” Francesca says in disbelief, “Anti-boys?” The tone of her voice and the look on her face imply that she clearly thinks that to be anti-boys is utterly impossible, which I suppose for someone as flirtatious as her it is.
I think fast, trying to come up with viable reasons to support my story. “Valentine’s just really reminds me of Seamus still, and I don’t really need to be reminded of that if I want to move on, you know?”
“Oh, sweetheart,” Francesca coos, eyes full of sympathy, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to push it. I know that if Ron and I ever broke up I would feel the same…”
I look up to see why her voice has trailed off, and I see tears streaming down her face. “Francesca? What’s wrong?”
“I love Ron so much, I think I would die without him,” Francesca admits, trying to smile at me through her tears. “I can’t even imagine not having him. It would be death to me.”
It truly warms my heart to hear speak of my brother in that way. “And you know what, sweetie? I can honestly say that I know he feels the same. He loves you too.”
“Oh thanks, Ginny,” she says, hugging me tightly, and I smile as I wrap my arms around her in return. “You’re the best sister-in-law a girl could ever have!”
“Sister-in-law?” I say, pulling back to look her in the eyes. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
Francesca grins, “Just, you know, a figure a speech.”
I smile back at her, but I can’t ignore the slight feeling that’s nagging at my brain that she’s quite obviously hiding something from me. I look at her, studying her face very closely, and she bites her lip nervously as she notices my staring. She turns to get up off of my bed but I am to fast for her and my hand has reached out to catch hold of her wrist before she has really moved any distance away from me. My fingers brush across a cold metal band on one of her fingers, the commitment ring from Ron that she wears, but it gives me an idea.
“You eloped,” I say, throwing out a wild guess. She immediately stills at my words and my eyes widen and my heart skips a beat as I realize that I’m right. “Oh my God, Sweet Merlin, you eloped. You eloped.”
“Yeah,” she whispers, slowly sitting down next to me. “But don’t tell Ron that I told you, we agreed to keep it a secret.”
“Oh my God,” I whisper, still in complete shock. My burgeoning relationship with Draco will be nothing in my parents eyes compared to this. “But, Cesca, you’re so young.”
“I know, but we both knew from the day that we started dating that we would get married. Ron told me that was a fact at our first dinner, and I’ve always known it to be true, so it seemed like a logical step,” she says, smiling happily at me. “Gosh, I’m so glad someone else knows about this, it was killing me to keep it such a secret.”
“But you’ve only been going out since the end of last year,” I say, mentally working out how long it’s been since last May. May to January – including May, nine months. Not that long in the scheme of things, but then I suppose that since Draco and I slept together after a mere week I shouldn’t be one to judge her on the time issue.
“To your knowledge,” she says as she grins, her eyes sparkling excitedly. “We started seeing each other in secret right after that picnic at your house, so it’s been eighteen months. We just didn’t tell anyone till last May.”
I fall back onto the bed one more, shaking my head. I can’t believe that my brother’s married. I guess when you think about it, after he knows about me and Draco, it’s going to be him flopped back on a bed thinking ‘I can’t believe my sister is sleeping with Draco Malfoy. Loves Draco Malfoy.’ At least he and Francesca were a public couple and a good match, as in both Gryffindors. “Do Harry and Hermione know?”
“No,” Francesca says, shaking her head, “We only did it last weekend, on the Hogsmeade day.”
“When Harry finds out, he’s going to be so pissed that it’s another secret kept from him,” I mutter absentmindedly.
“Another?” Francesca asks, peering over at me. I freeze, realizing my mistake, and she immediately senses my vulnerability and attacks. “Spill it, now. I want to know this secret. I told you mine.”
I sit up and look her in the eye, wondering if I should tell her. Ron doesn’t even know yet. But she did spill about them eloping. I bite my lip uncomfortably, and squirm under the seriousness of her gaze. It clearly says that I am not leaving this room until I have told her a secret that she is satisfied is the secret. “Francesca, I will keep your secret and swear not to tell anybody at all, not even Harry, or Hermione, who is my absolute best friend that I tell everything too,” (most of the time, I think to myself) “if you will agree to keep mine and swear to tell nobody at all. Okay?”
She nods, eyes aglow with excitement.
“And by no one, I mean especially not Ron, and if I find that you have told him, then the whole school will suddenly find out about a little marriage between my brother and his girlfriend. Agreed?” I say, holding my hand out for her to shake.
“Agreed,” she says, grinning as she takes my hand and shakes it firmly. “No one, and definitely not my blabbermouth of a husband.”
“Alright,” I say and motion for her to climb all the way onto the bed. She does so and I close the curtains all the way, casting a silencing spell so that no one outside can hear, and then settle back into the pillows. “I have a ‘boyfriend’ of sorts.”
“A boyfriend?” Francesca squeals, practically throwing herself upon me in utter delight. “Who? Oh, is it Dean Thomas, because I know you fancied him and he’s been looking at you a lot recently. It is, isn’t it?”
“No, Cesca, it’s definitely not Dean,” I reply with a chuckle, shaking my head, “ He’s a seventh year, hot as hell, not in our house, and someone you would never suspect.”
Francesca sits back on her heels as she contemplates this information and I know that she is mentally going through a list of seventh year boys that aren’t in our house who could be classed as ‘hot as hell’ and then trying to figure out which one would be someone she would never suspect. She gets a thoughtful look on her face, and then a surprised one, and then a look the clearly implies that she has a man in mind. “Draco Malfoy.”
“How did you know?” I gasp, shocked that she’s got it on the first try.
Her eyes widen in complete shock and she falls down into the pillows next to me, stunned. “You’re serious, Gin? Draco Malfoy? As in most gorgeous Slytherin to ever grace this school with his presence? As is eyes to die for Draco Malfoy?”
“Yeah,” I admit, smiling at her descriptions of him as I think that they are pretty accurate.
“Oh my God, Sweet Merlin,” she breathes, looking at me with wide eyes, “I only said him because he was the most unlikely attractive seventh year boy that I could think of. But Lord! Draco Malfoy. Tell me everything. Now. Or you are not leaving here alive.”
I smile at her, “Only if you tell me everything about you and Ron after.”
“Deal, now get on with it,” she orders, grinning and settling back into the pillows next to me for the story.
~~)~*~(~~
Francesca and I are still lying on my bed, an hour and a half later, both of us having told our stories to exhaustion and are now trying to recover from it all.
“I can’t believe you’ve slept with Draco Malfoy,” she whispers in something that sounds akin to awe. “You know that if the school finds out about this most of the female population will want to kill you.”
The laugh I let out turns into a snort, and the two of us fall into fits of giggles. “At least Draco Malfoy is someone that all girls want to sleep with. I can’t believe that you’ve voluntarily slept with my brother. That’s truly horrific in the most disturbing sense. You must be out of your goddamn mind.”
“You don’t think of him like everyone else does. You’re his sister. Everyone else here is just as much in love with him as they are Harry and Draco,” Francesca explains although in my mind there is no excuse for sleeping with my brother except insanity. “He has gorgeous eyes, and beautiful hair, and an incredible body, and he is absolutely amazing in bed-”
“Stop!” I shriek, covering my ears with my hands, “Ew, ew, ew, ew, ewwwwwwwww! That was so not what I wanted to hear.”
Francesca pulls my hands away from my ears, “Lighten up Gin, I was just kidding. Okay, well I wasn’t kidding but-”
I slap her playfully, knowing that she is just trying to rile me up, and we both fall back into a comfortable silence and I feel that I will come away from this discussion about ten times closer than I previously was with Francesca. My sister-in-law. “Wow.”
“What?” she whispers to me, her eyes drifting closed slowly.
“You’re my sister-in-law, Cesca,” I reply, and she just smiles before drifting completely off to sleep. I study her silently for a few minutes and notice a new chain around her neck. Being careful not to wake her, I gently pull on it so that it is not hidden underneath the neckline of her t-shirt and see that there is a ring on it. I realize that this must be her wedding band and I finger it carefully, deep in thought.
A soft moan from my friend brings me out of my reverie, and I glance at my watch and am shocked to see that it is almost seven o’clock. I suddenly realize that I feel absolutely ravenous, having missed lunch and I make the decision to pack some clothes in a satchel and grab a bite to eat before going to Draco’s room.
~~)~*~(~~
“Hey Gin,” Ron greets me as I sit down opposite him, next to Harry the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.
I smile at him, trying not to appear as if I know that anything is different with him and Francesca. “Hey big brother.”
“You seem to be in a better mood today,” he teases me, kicking my leg under the table and I smirk at him, dropping some pepper into his pumpkin juice as he looks up to glance at the doors of the Great Hall. “Anyone seen Francesca?”
“Yeah, she’s asleep on my bed,” I say between mouthfuls of my cottage pie, desperately trying to eat it as fast as possible so that I can get to Draco’s room.
“Your bed?” Ron asks. He and Harry both look at me with questioning glances and I motion for them to wait until my mouth is empty of food.
”Who’s on Ginny’s bed?” Hermione asks suspiciously, plunking herself down on Harry’s other side and he leans in for a quick kiss and a low whisper of, “hey, babe, thanks.” She looks at me with a pointed glance and he smiles and nods and she visibly relaxes, glad that things are back to normal between us.
Finally able to speak, I down a sip of pumpkin juice and look at my brother. “We were having girl talk and she just conked out, completely worn out. I don’t know what you two have been doing, but she sure is tired.”
Ron has a smug look on his face, and Harry, Hermione and I just look at each other with slightly grossed out looks on ours. “I think I’m going to head off now.”
“Where you going, Gin?” Ron asks, “You literally just got here.”
“I’m full, and I, uh, have some homework that I need to catch up on,” I explain, motioning to my satchel. I wink and Harry and Hermione so that they know that I’m really off to Draco’s, and as I pass them I dip my head down and whisper, “Come if you can so we can see what’s going on.”
They nod and I throw my friends one last smile over my shoulder before disappearing through the doors of the Great Hall out into the Entrance Hall.
~~)~*~(~~
“Buttercup,” I whisper, and the portrait swings open, giving me entrance into Draco’s rooms, and not a moment to soon because as soon as I step inside the threshold I hear footsteps turning into the corridor. I quickly close the portrait door, set my bag down, and reach up to redo my ponytail as I call out to him. “Draco?”
“Ginny?” his voice calls out, and almost before I know it, a pair of arms have firmly wrapped themselves around me. “Where have you been?”
I smile and turn myself around in his embrace so that I can look at him. “I was in Gryffindor tower spending some time with Ron’s girlfriend. You were worried, weren’t you?”
He shrugs and he releases me, pulling me over to the loveseat. “I thought that Harry might have been successful in persuading you to leave me.”
“No way, Draco,” I say, reaching out to turn his face towards mine. “Harry and I are okay now, and he won’t be trying to persuade me away from you again.” He smiles at me, covering my hand with his own, and he leans over and gives me a soft kiss.
“Harry and Hermione are going to come so we can talk about what Dumbledore said to you,” I tell him as I relax back into the warm comfort of the sofa. “Is that okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, sure, whatever.” He’s silent for a moment and I feel him drape his arm around my shoulder and pull me towards him so that we are sitting next to each other, my head resting lightly on his shoulder. “Is this causing problems for Harry and Hermione?”
“What?” I ask, surprised by the question.
“I, I mean, Hermione’s kind of helping me here, and Harry doesn’t like me, because I haven’t always been as civil as I suppose I could have been, and I just wanted to make sure that what Hermione’s doing for me isn’t creating problems for her and Harry,” Draco says, his fingers rubbing light circles on my skin through the shoulder of my top. “I wouldn’t want to be the cause of problems between them, especially not now I’m on the ‘good’ side.”
I smile at his use of the word ‘good’. “No, Draco, they’re fine, and I’ve talked with Harry.”
“I talked with Hermione too,” he says, his voice sounding as if he’s unsure of whether or not to tell me what he is saying. I glance up at him and smile reassuringly. “After you and Harry left, she was waiting for me, to tell me that you guys had gone and that you would meet up with me later on tonight. I told her thank you, for, you know, doing what she’s, uh, doing for me.”
“Really?” I say, my face reflecting my approval of his actions. “I’m proud of you. I’m sure she really appreciates it.”
“It was weird, you know, saying thank you to someone I’ve never been friends with,” he said, laughing slightly, “Ah, hell, who am I kidding, it was weird to say thank you at all. Didn’t feel like the Draco I know.”
“Sounds like the Draco that I’m proud to be getting to know,” I say, lacing my fingers through the hand that isn’t around my shoulders. “What is it between you and Harry and Ron and Hermione anyway? You guys have never gotten along in all the time that I can remember. Ron used to come home and Harry would come spend time with us in the summer and they’d always be snarking about something you did to them or vice versa.”
“Ah, I don’t know, I mean, lots of little pointless things, I suppose,” Draco says after a moment. “My father, he, uh, always told me which families were the ones that were ‘appropriate’ for me to associate with, and by that he meant rich, and your family didn’t exactly fall into that category. And there’s some bad blood between your father and mine. Mine really hates that a ‘pureblood’ wizard could be so fascinated with muggles. Thinks it’s wrong and all. Suppose he rubbed off on me over the years.”
I make a small snort of laughter. “Our families have never been the best of friends, have they?” He shakes his head. “Do you remember at the beginning of your second year, when our families met in the bookshop?”
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I said that you were Harry’s girlfriend. And our Dads had a little scuffle.”
“The good old days of the Weasley-Malfoy feud,” I say, and we both laugh. “So that explains Ron, but what about Harry and Hermione?”
“On the first day of school, back in our first year, I offered to be friends with Harry, and I think I probably insulted your brother in the process, and they’d already become friends, so he refused my offer, and things just kept getting worse and worse ever since,” Draco says, voice quiet and thoughtful, his mind lost in the memory. “And because things were bad between me and Harry and your brother I think that the sentiment just naturally transferred onto Hermione too since they were generally inseparable. And then there’s the fact that she’s muggle-born, not something I was taught to look upon fondly.”
“There’s something else, isn’t there,” I whisper, looking up into his surprised eyes. “You’re jealous of him, aren’t you?”
“Jealous? Me?” he says, the corners of his lips turning down as if he’s about to deny it, but then, after a quick glance at me, he shrugs slightly and lets out a breath. “Harry Potter. The teachers love him. The girls love him. The whole damn world loves him…but I suppose, what’s not to love? He’s funny, good-looking, has two best friends who love him unconditionally, has a cool scar, saves the world on a regular basis, won the Tri-Wizard tournament, and never fails to beat me in Quidditch. And everyone loved his parents. Yeah, I guess he has some things to be jealous of.”
I watch his face and I realize how hard it was for him to admit any of that to me. “He’s not Head Boy like this other amazing guy that I happen to know.”
Draco smiles and I feel better knowing that he’s not as down. “I’ve heard that that Head Boy wants to ask this really beautiful girl he knows to be his girlfriend.”
“That’s what you heard?” I ask, a smile gracing my face and a warmth spreading through my body.
“That’s what I heard,” he says, looking at me with a playful twinkle in his eyes, “Do you think she’d say yes?”
“I think that the answer might be a yes,” I say and he dips his head closer to mine to press his lips softly against my own. “I know the answer would be a yes.”
“Good to know, girlfriend,” he says, his voice joking but his face serious. I kiss him again, savoring his special taste, the feel of his fingers running themselves through my hair. He pulls back for a moment to look into my eyes. “This almost makes me want to hug my father for beating me.”
“What?” I ask and my hands stop pulling him towards me. “You can’t be serious.”
“If he hadn’t, I would never have had this with you,” he says, cupping my cheek with his hand. “And that, to me, completely outweighs the bad.”
I smile widely at him, my eyes a little wet at his words. “I’m glad I have you too.”
“And we’re glad as well, but Hermione and I would really appreciate it if we didn’t have to see a replay of this morning,” Harry’s voice cuts through our oblivion. We turn to look at him standing near us with Hermione behind him, a smirk gracing his face but his eyes definitely warmer than they were this morning. Draco starts to remove his arm from around my shoulders but I trap it there, holding it in place. Harry sits down in the seat that Hermione was sitting in earlier this morning and smiles at me and half-smiles at Draco who nods in return. Hermione looks as if she’s going to move over to the other armchair opposite Harry when he catches her wrist and pulls her firmly down into his lap. I smile at my friends antics and hear Draco chuckle almost inaudibly in my ear.
“Glad to see you looking a bit more rested, Draco,” Hermione says, a warm and friendly smile playing around her lips. My heart swells a bit at her actions. I really appreciate the incredible effort that my best friend is making to be nice to Draco. I look up at him and see him smiling at her in return.
“Thanks, I feel better after I had that nap you suggested,” he says, and Harry and I exchange looks.
“So,” Harry says, lacing his fingers through Hermione’s, “What did Dumbledore say to you after we left?”
“Well, he explained exactly how he’ll cast the charm, which isn’t really important right now, and he said that there are some things that we have to decide,” Draco explains, pulling a folded up piece of parchment from his jeans pocket and tossing it Hermione who deftly catches it and unfolds it, letting Harry read over shoulder. “We have to list the people who’ll know that I’m under the charm. Those people will be the people who will know where I am and will be able to see me. Dumbledore says that the list can’t be too long.”
“So, do you have any ideas of who you want on the list?” Hermione says, reaching into her bag and retrieving a quill and some ink. She slips off of Harry’s lap, much to his dismay and sits on the floor next to the coffee table so that she can rest on it.
“Well, Ginny, obviously, Dumbledore, you and Harry, maybe McGonagall, but I wasn’t sure about Snape. I mean, he is the head of my house, and Dumbledore told me the truth about his status as a Death Eater, but I’m not sure if it’s a risk we should take,” Draco says, shrugging, his face deep in thought.
“So, Ginny, Dumbledore, me, Harry,” Hermione mutters as her quill scratches across the parchment. She looks up at us, “Why McGonagall? Is there any particular reason?”
“You guys are taking that Animagition class, right?” Draco asks, and we nod in reply. “Well, Dumbledore says that I should probably study Animagition too, since it could be a useful weapon and a good way to disguise myself, you know?”
“So, McGonagall too,” Hermione nods, adding the name to the list. She sits back, her back resting in between Harry’s legs against the bottom of the armchair. “I would be inclined to say no to Snape, not because I don’t like him, but because if your father ever suspected that Snape knew where you were, he would find some way to get it out of him. Bad risk.”
“Yeah,” Draco replies, furrowing his eyebrows for a moment. “What do you guys think?” He looks at me and then Harry, who looks surprised to have his opinion asked for, but actually quite touched at the same time.
“I would have to go with no too,” Harry says, “If Voldemort or your father sensed in any way that Snape knew they would go all the way to find out where you were, and that could put Snape in danger, which means that have no spy on the inside of Voldemort’s circle.”
“Go with no,” I agree.
“So Snape’s a no,” Draco says with a note of finality in his voice. “The next thing that Dumbledore said that we would have to decide was who my secret keeper was going to be.”
“Dumbledore?” Hermione asks.
Draco shakes his head. “Too obvious. Dumbledore says that it would have to be someone that no one would ever suspect that I would use. I, uh, I’ve thought about it a lot this afternoon, and I would like to ask you to be my secret keeper, Harry.”
~~)~*~(~~
Please review, this is my first Draco/Ginny(or any) fanfic, and like all other authors, reviews are what keep me going!