I shouldn't be doing this, but I took -another- challenge before I start my fic. The challenge was to keep Draco in Character while he is comforting Ginny.
I'm sorry if my 'comfort' is a bit different.
****
Ginny hugged her knees, the was paralyzed in her pain, her sobs were loud ang grief stricken, her loss, her burden had crushed her... she felt as though she had not a heart any longer, it was taken, and it died with the boy who took it. There was no other boy who could match him, the boy she longed to be with, the boy had had turned into that, man.
The man who'd slain so many people, the man that must have no conscience.
No one understood.
No one understood how Ginny felt, how Ginny wanted to be ordered about, not talked nicely to... she wanted to be the submissive force, she did not want to be an equal. Ginny wanted to be talked down to, she liked to know that she was not in charge of her own actions, she felt like such a screw-up when she was that when she wasn't in charge of her actions was the only she felt okay with who she was.
Or who she'd then become.
She heard footsteps, loud and clear, echoing down the hallway now, she didn't listen to them. She knew they were getting closer, she knew that she'd have to put up with those ridiculous questions, stupid ones, Are you okay? No. Oh, how she longed to be ordered to stop, her tears smacked off her instead of gently moved aside.
They were now stopped infront of her, the shoes she now stared at her black and shiny and as she looked up, looking at his trousers, then his green tie, and shirt, she found herself staring at the corner of Draco Malfloy's right eye, not daring to look in.
"Oh look, the littlest Weasley here all alone. Stop your moaning, you stupid girl, nothing could be wrong with you yet." Ginny's sobs subsided, although her breathing could not recover. "So weak, look at you, you're not even in control of your own breath. Weakling, dirty Weasley. Bloody pauper." The boy's eyes flashed, Ginny was now looking down, taking it all in as her breathing steadied.
The voice, so cold, yet so warm to her, so familiar, so welcome, filled with hatred for Ginny, for her family, for her submissiveness. Ginny welcomed such a voice, and oh how she longed for him to hit her.
"Say something Weasel, fight back!" Draco's hands quivered, his fists unballed and she felt his cold hand hit her cheek; she stood then, looking him in the eye.
"Thank You."
I'm sorry if my 'comfort' is a bit different.
****
Ginny hugged her knees, the was paralyzed in her pain, her sobs were loud ang grief stricken, her loss, her burden had crushed her... she felt as though she had not a heart any longer, it was taken, and it died with the boy who took it. There was no other boy who could match him, the boy she longed to be with, the boy had had turned into that, man.
The man who'd slain so many people, the man that must have no conscience.
No one understood.
No one understood how Ginny felt, how Ginny wanted to be ordered about, not talked nicely to... she wanted to be the submissive force, she did not want to be an equal. Ginny wanted to be talked down to, she liked to know that she was not in charge of her own actions, she felt like such a screw-up when she was that when she wasn't in charge of her actions was the only she felt okay with who she was.
Or who she'd then become.
She heard footsteps, loud and clear, echoing down the hallway now, she didn't listen to them. She knew they were getting closer, she knew that she'd have to put up with those ridiculous questions, stupid ones, Are you okay? No. Oh, how she longed to be ordered to stop, her tears smacked off her instead of gently moved aside.
They were now stopped infront of her, the shoes she now stared at her black and shiny and as she looked up, looking at his trousers, then his green tie, and shirt, she found herself staring at the corner of Draco Malfloy's right eye, not daring to look in.
"Oh look, the littlest Weasley here all alone. Stop your moaning, you stupid girl, nothing could be wrong with you yet." Ginny's sobs subsided, although her breathing could not recover. "So weak, look at you, you're not even in control of your own breath. Weakling, dirty Weasley. Bloody pauper." The boy's eyes flashed, Ginny was now looking down, taking it all in as her breathing steadied.
The voice, so cold, yet so warm to her, so familiar, so welcome, filled with hatred for Ginny, for her family, for her submissiveness. Ginny welcomed such a voice, and oh how she longed for him to hit her.
"Say something Weasel, fight back!" Draco's hands quivered, his fists unballed and she felt his cold hand hit her cheek; she stood then, looking him in the eye.
"Thank You."