Rest In Pieces
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Summary: What would you do if somebody locked you into a room with your worst enemy, and you were told that at the end of 24 hours, one of you'd be killed. But you don't know who? A question Ginny and Draco have to ask themselves when facing a very difficult situation.
Author's Notes: *groans and moans in agony* I have taken to call this chapter 'The Sappy Chappy'. I asked my mum this morning "Should I be nice or should I be mean?" (her initial response was "Aren't you always mean?"), and after some time she said "Be nice," even though she didn't know what I was on about. So it's all her fault *points at her mum* I blame it all on her, and the fact that I'm of the opinion that in kidnapping cases the victims crave for human affection and contact and search for them in the oddest places.
Chapter 7: Sweden
Laying down on the mattress on the ground Draco turned so he lay with his face to the wall in order for Ginny not to see his reaction to what he'd done to her earlier. It was slightly disconcerting to hear her sob quietly to herself as Draco was used to sleeping in absolute silence, and hated any kind of noise disrupting him.
He hated crying girls even more, come to think of it.
Then again, there were few things that he didn't hate, or even didn't mind. Sex for example. Or peanut butter. Right now, the possibility for getting both presented itself to him in form of an annoying, sobbing mass. Just my luck, he thought, rolling his eyes, willing himself to keep his patience.
All in all, he was rather proud of what he'd done to Weasley. He suspected that he might have overreacted a little there, but didn't let himself be bothered by that. Even though he wouldn't tell her that, but she'd been right: she could have conjured up another glass of peanut butter anytime she wanted. He hadn't punished her for smashing it anyway. He had acted because he'd felt an odd sting to his pride when she'd refused to give him that glass of peanut butter, refusing him by doing that. And so he'd refused her when she wanted him, in return.
He smirked at the thought of that. Oh, yes, shy, little Ginny Weasley had wanted him, that much had been obvious. She'd looked like a pagan goddess in some strange ritual back then, her pale skin glowing oddly in the gloomy light the torch on the wall presented, her whole body wound tighter than a catapult ready to be fired, completely letting herself go. And it was his skill, his hands that caused such a reaction in her. His male pride was definitely back after that stunt.
There was only one thing left to trouble him. Was revenge not a dish best served cold? Yes, it definitely was. Unfortunately, Draco was not cold lying on that mattress, despite the chilly temperature of the room. Far from it, actually.
No matter how much he tried to ignore them, he could not block out the pictures of the expression on her face - screaming pleasure and exhilaration - or of how she'd moaned loudly when he'd caressed her thighs. And those pictures combined with the knowledge of all that had gone on in the chamber those past few hours gave him strange thoughts of what he wanted to do to her, despite hating everybody she loved and liked, despite despising everything she stood for, despite resenting the fact that she would probably put some flowers on his grave should he be the one to die in here.
And all the while she was quietly sobbing to herself, in the corner of the room that might prove to be her dying place, humbled and humiliated, as naked as the day she was born.
Strangely enough, that moved something in him that was neither of a sexual, nor of an evil manner. Not knowing she'd thought something like that not too long ago, he guessed the Stockholm syndrome was to be blamed for it, but Draco felt as if he had a strange bond with Weasley.
He did not even come close to liking her, but somehow he was ill at ease with every aspect of their precarious relationship: either they were fighting to near death, which was not exactly good for his health, or they were having peculiar, sexy moments that made him burn with a desire he should not feel from the hands of a lowly person like her.
At that moment, Draco wished for nothing more than to be lying in his own bed and that nothing of this had happened, much like everybody would, in his situation, but for entirely different reasons. Draco was only slightly troubled at the prospect of his possibly impeding death. Of course, like any other person, he did not want to die, but right now he was not too keen on living either. And all because of her. Because she made him question himself.
Draco Malfoy did not need to question himself. He was always right, no matter what he did. He'd lived like this for years, never doubting his judgement, never having to doubt his judgement. He'd bullied, he'd manipulated, had others beat people up for him. He'd been mean, sarcastic and petty, and he was proud of it. It was how he liked to be. He'd never been anything else than a bastard, but he carried the name with pride as others would carry a prefect badge.
So how was it possible that he did not know what to do now? Oh, he knew what he wanted to do, and he knew what he should do, all right, but for the first time in his life, the two were not congruent. What he should do was sleep and wait for the stupid chit to snuff it, then go to his room and have a wank thinking about some Slytherin girl. What he wanted to do was either having a wank thinking of her, or, even better, making her spare him the effort of a wank and let her do all the work.
And he wanted her to stop crying - 99 percent of him because it was annoying, and one measly percent because he was feeling almost human in this chamber, with his thoughts and emotions written more plainly on his face than ever - not that that meant much. And it was the human thing to do to comfort somebody who was crying, no?
Deciding that he wouldn't get any sleep anyway with her trying to flood the chamber with silent tears, Draco got up and stalked over to Ginny, shaking the girl in order to make her notice him through her tears.
"Jesus, Weasley," he said exasperatedly, taking his wand and casting a cleansing spell on her. "Shut up or I'll get a headache," he added and then unclasped his robe and threw it over her shoulders.
Ginny blinked. Had he just been nice to her? Had he just acted like a decent person? Mumbling her gratitude she pulled the robe tighter around her features and sank down to the floor, still not able to stop the flow of her tears.
"Don't think anything of it," Draco snapped and was about to stalk to the other room in a put-out manner when he felt her hands grasping the material of his trousers.
He stilled his motions and slowly, very slowly turned around regarding her coolly while lifting an eyebrow in unspoken question.
"Just stay, will you?" Ginny asked in a small voice.
"And why should I?" he asked in a tone of voice that sounded remarkably Snape-like.
"I don't know. I just don't want to be alone," Ginny answered honestly. She didn't know what had possessed her to do it herself.
"Weasley, I only covered you up because I'd hoped that it might shut you up. I told you not to think anything of it, didn't I?" he snarled angrily. Angry with her for asking him to stay, angry with himself for wanting to comply.
"Please?" she begged with big, round eyes.
Rolling his eyes he sat down beside her, but he made sure she noticed his exaggerated eye-roll in order to make it perfectly clear that he was not doing so happily.
He leaned his back on the wall and dropped his head back so he was looking at the ceiling with a blank expression, just like the girl beside him was.
"So...," she said beside him, not taking her eyes away from some imaginary thing on the stone wall above them.
"So...," he replied, at a loss of words. Strangely enough, sitting there next to her was oddly comforting and relaxing. He noticed with some content that his arousal was fading which made the situation even more comfortable.
Somehow the part of him that was himself was not able to spoil the mood. He wanted to feel like he was feeling right now, as it gave him a sense of security.
"I don't want to die," Ginny stated, her voice barely a whisper.
"Perhaps you won't," Draco suggested.
"As much as I want to believe that, the chance for that happening is as big as the chance for that not to happen." She sighed, pulling her left knee up to her chest and leaned her elbow on it with a fascinating glumness to each and every of her motions.
"Have you ever been to Sweden?" Ginny asked all of a sudden, startling Draco with her non-sequitur. It took him some moments to shake his head.
"I like Sweden. The mangoes should be blooming there just nicely at the moment. And there's an elephant at every corner. Swedish people like to laugh a lot. They're so open and friendly it's amazing." She had a far-away look on her face that almost made him believe her.
Almost.
"Don't be silly. Sweden is a Scandinavian country. There are no mangoes or elephants there," he commented dryly.
Ginny sighed again. "I know. It's just I have this dream about Sweden. I've had it since I was very small. I'll never go there for fear of it being destroyed, but every time life's being a bitch I like to imagine that I'm in Sweden. Every time I argue with mum or Ron, I like to think that everything would be better in Sweden," she explained, and Draco marveled at her fantasy.
"There's flowers everywhere, and the beaches are sandy and full of palm trees. I like everybody there, you know? People are nice and friendly," she went on. "I want to go there right now, but I can't," she added, new tears coming to her eyes.
"Sweden has always worked for me. No matter how much I try to recall those images, I can't hold on to them. The borders are closed for me." She was very close to start crying again, he could see from the corner of his eye.
"Try Norway, then," he said, surprising himself. "I've heard that the water there is full of sharks, so you won't get to swim a lot, but the countryside is said to be great. There's a rather impressive pyramid in the middle of one of the rainforests there that was built by the native people of Norway over 3000 years ago. You know, not like these standard Scandinavian underground ancestral tombs."
Draco was aware that she was staring at him as if he'd grown another head, but he didn't care. He was enjoying this, and he guessed that nobody would ever know about it anyway, no matter who fate would pick as it's ultimate victim - for he knew that Ginny was likely not to talk about anything that had transpired during their stay in the chamber.
With a sly grin, he continued talking. "Or Indonesia. Indonesia's great for skiing."
"I like snowboarding better," she muttered, still not quite over the shock of him joining her little game.
"Well, Ayers Rock is better for snowboarding. That's in Australia, in case you don't know. There's some slopes in every skiing centre in Indonesia where you'd need to walk with a snowboard," he amended.
"I hate that kind of slopes."
"Yeah."
"The Sahara should be cool at this time of the year, too," Ginny offered contemplatively.
"Really?"
"Yes. Of course I'm aware that it's dark day and night there, at the moment, but you can't say you've lived without having seen the Aurora Borealis like you can see it in the Sahara," she explained with an awed twinkle in her eyes.
"Oh, the Netherlands have pretty impressive northern lights too, but you can only see them when you're at the summit of the higher mountains there. Did you know that the highest mountain on earth is called Keesberg and is in Holland?"
The both looked at each other at that moment and snorted with mirth. Draco was very much aware that he still did not like her, that he still hated her, but he was too weary to act out on it at the moment. He could save that for later. Closing his eyes he leaned back and enjoyed the peace of the moment.
"Oh, this is precious," a silky voice said to their right. Whereas Draco could hear Ginny gasp in surprise, he didn't even open his eyes. He'd actually wondered where Mr. Swishy-cloaks had been, as he hadn't shown up for a few hours, which he was actually grateful for. The stupid cocksucker would have ruined quite a lot had he turned up earlier.
"What do you want, you filthy piece of shit?" Draco snarled without bothering to open his eyes.
"Oh, nothing. I'm merely here to tell you that your time is almost up, princess. You only have one hour left. I suggest ye gather ye rosebuds while ye may," the infuriating mystery man said, and with that was gone again.
"One hour..." Ginny whimpered beside him.
Yes, one hour, Draco thought to himself. Perhaps I ought to find myself a rosebush first.
Whew, that leaves me with only two chapters to go *celebrates* The end is so near I can almost smell it, which I find very exciting, for I have never finished a novel-length story. Never ever. And I know that this isn't exactly novel-length, but it's kinda longish, so don't go and spoil my fun.