Diamonds

steel lily

Rating: PG13
Genres: Angst, Romance
Relationships: Draco & Ginny
Book: Draco & Ginny, Books 1 - 5
Published: 03/09/2003
Last Updated: 03/09/2003
Status: in_progress

"She is terribly afraid of dropping the crystal decanter, of the crash and tinkle of crystal on wood and the tiny shards making broken diamond rainbows as they catch the fading light." The youngest Weasley and the only Malfoy's romance is far from perfect by any stretch of the imagination. But it is angsty. Very short one-shot.

Chapters

1. untitled

1. untitled

She pours the whiskey slowly but with shaking hands; the amber liquid tumbles over the edge of the glass, splayed in a small pool on the table. She is terribly afraid of dropping the crystal decanter, of the crash and tinkle of crystal on wood and the tiny shards making broken diamond rainbows as they catch the fading light. But there is no crash before she is done, and with a small and satisfied thud the decanter is back on the counter.

She knows he is there now; she has been able to sense his presence for some time now. She knows too that he is playing his game, which one of them will grow bored or frustrated and acknowledge the other's presence first. Determined not to lose, she downs the whiskey quickly. It burns going down her throat.

Sensing something at her shoulder, she turns and he is there.

“Another?” he asks, in an amused velvet voice. Without waiting for her reply he takes the decanter and pours her another shot.

He doesn't spill any.

She doesn't want to refuse, so she takes it and in small sips swallows the liquor.

Feeling something on her neck, she turns halfway; it is, of course, him. He is caressing her neck, first with long white fingers, then with his lips - tiny pinprick kisses that sting like needles.

Softly he tells her that he has something for her. He is forever bringing her little gifts - luxury chocolates which she has to do her best not to gobble, hothouse orchids she can't help but gawk at. She casts her eyes down demurely as he reaches into his coat and puts something into her slightly outstretched hands.

It is a white box - her shrewd money-sensible upbringing tells her that white is always elegant, and that if the box doesn't have a maker's name on it then it came from one of the most expensive shops in London. It couldn't possibly matter to him - money is immaterial to someone of his class - but she can't help being the wide-eyed country girl in the big city she is still clinging to despite her attempts to forget the poor girl amazed by everything she sees.

Attempting to clear her head from the whiskey by blinking several times, she opens the box.

She is immediately forced to blink again; it holds a diamond necklace. So many of the precious glittering stones; she is amazed and at the same time cursing herself for being so. She knows that is what he wants.

He inclines his head slightly. Cursing herself for her slowness, she raises it to her neck and her thin fingers deftly fasten it around white skin. She pauses and looks at her reflection. Her eyes pass quickly over the fire-bright hair falling smoothly over milky-pale bared shoulders, the huge brown eyes hollowed with loss, searching themselves for some unfound answer. They turn to the diamonds.

Again her eyes are dazzled. It is beautiful, glittering, costly-looking and - dead. Cold.

She doesn't know why the word came to her. But he is now staring at her with some intensity, his brutal gray gaze prompting her in a kind of softened glare, prodding her to say something. Automatically she murmurs quiet thanks. He nods and - she is surprised - seems satisfied.

She looks again at the necklace. It is what she has become, cold and perfect, for him. She is modeled to his ideal of a diamond. She is a plaything, a trinket.

The necklace feels cold.

But fire is there as well in the heart of the diamonds; he strides toward her now with fire in his eyes.

So she succumbs.

As Ginny lies there, quiet and still, a single tear rolls down her cheek. It stays there for a moment, a perfect cold diamond, before it stains her cheek.

And Draco smiles a gloriously cruel smile. He has marked her and her stained innocence is his.