[Wooot! :does happy dance: I finished my rewrite(very much happy with the
final product). I'm frankly surprised I started it out with Draco's
perspective since he was supposed to be a minor character but SoD has
evolved a lot since my original writing. Well, hope you like it and please
review!]
Disclaimer: If I owned any of these characters it wouldn't be a fanfiction.
Oh...I do own Fefi Creevy and Danica (both are only mentioned thus far)
though.
Shadows of Desire
Chapter 1: Shadows of a Watcher
Draco had been chewing lazily at a cold sausage for a while now. He gazed idly at the Gryffindor table, as he was accustomed to doing while half-listening to the buzz of voices round him. If the topic wasn't about Draco or quidditch, he could stay silent for all of breakfast. Especially when he was sleepy.
"They look exactly the same!" a voice that even sounded fat and Draco came to associate with Goyle said. "Both have long red hair, big tits, a nice bum, and freckles."
'Red hair?' that got his attention! There was an abundance of the stuff right in his line of sight.
"Blimey, you're right!" a childish voice cried out. "We could be twins!"
"No, you're fatter then she is, Blaise," Pansy retorted with a deep chortle.
This got a laugh from the table, causing Blaise to take on the exact shade of her hair.
"I'm not fat!" Blaise Zambini, 5th Year Slytherin, pouted. "And you're supposed to be on my side, Pansy."
Pansy gave her a deathly stare that could scare the shit out of anyone (except Draco thought. He had a better one). "And why should I?"
Blaise quickly looked away.
Draco sighed. What an idiot.' Ever since Pansy found out about he and Blaise's nightly romps she and her girlie flock had decided to make Blaise's life a living hell. But, of course, Blaise was too thick to catch on. That's why Draco put up with her. Good snog, no baggage; which, Pansy Parkinson had an abundance of.
Draco glanced back and forth, at the redhead slouched over her plate across the room and the one sitting, for once quietly, next to him
"And you morons 'just' realized this?" He asked coolly. His icy eyes flicked to Blaise. "Why the hell would you want to be compared with a Weasley anyway? I'd shave my head, if I was you."
He carelessly tossed his fork-impaled sausage onto the table, shoved his chair back and strolled down the isle of gawking schoolmates.
"Prat should go shave his hairy white arse!"
Laughter.
"Shut it, Shiyne! He'll here you!"
Draco needed a drink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Draco?" A mousy voice called from a sliver of light at the burgundy oak door.
He didn't answer but continued staring intently at the nice ceiling pattern.
Are you alone?"
"You 'just' came from a table full of Slytherins," he said, incensed. "You tell me." 'Girls as thick as her shouldn't be aloud to talk.'
The door clicked shut. Soft movement made their way to his bed. It paused uncertainly at it's left.
"Draco?"
"Mm."
"I thought you like my hair. That's what you said our first time."
"..."
"You don't really want me to shave it all off, do you?"
"I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole if you did."
He could almost feel her relief. The fact that she cared so much what he, let alone anyone, thought of her hair was sickening, especially after she was insulted in front of a few dozen people.
Blaise climbed into bed and sprawled along side him, her head resting on his chest. A dainty hand slid under his dress shirt, suggestively.
Ginny's somber face invaded his mind.
"Get off!" He snapped, pushing her roughly away.
"Draco?" Blaise's injured voice called but he was already out the door, down the steps, through the portrait whole, and along the stone corridor.
He ran his hands through his ashen blonde hair.
'Ginny Weasley. Ginny Weasley! Why did it have to be Ginny Bloody Weasley? Can't snog Blaise anymore. Her bloody face would pop up!' He let out an exasperated growl and strode faster.
Draco 'really' needed a drink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny had this unnerving feeling that she was being watched. This time she was almost positive it wasn't her sausages. Fred and George's friend, Fefi Creevy, a 7th year with short red hair that could almost pass for a Weasley, had moved on to knew and better transfigurations, leaving her sausages alone, thank god! She liked her sausages and felt strange eating them when they look back at her with pleading eyes before coming to the conclusion that it was safest to run away.
There it was again! That feeling!
This was getting suspicious. She quickly turned her head this when and that, hoping to catch the culprit in the act.
Her twin brothers, Fred and George, were in a huddle with their friend, Li Jordan, at the end of the table; Ron had dived into another lengthy Quidditch tale, slightly altered, which would have been interesting if it wasn't his tenth re-telling; the Gryffindor chasers were discussing battle tactics and kindly ignoring Ron; Fefi pretended to listen all the while craning her ear toward the twins and shuffling closer now and then; and a sandy-haired boy was prodding Ginny with his wand (not a safe thing to do, by the way).
"What?!" She asked slightly more irate then she meant it to be.
"Erm, all right there, just wondering if you're feeling okay. Look a little peekish."
Ginny went a healthy shade of radish (beets are more purple). "Colin! I'm sorry! Just a little twitchy this early." She laughed nervously. "You know, with potions and all first class."
Colin shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. I just ate."
Ginny chuckled. She had been paired up with him a few times in their classes and found him easy to talk to; which was a rare thing in her case. He even complemented her poetry, though she doubted he meant. Someone told her that Colin was working on a monthly Hogwarts newspaper. Maybe they could talk about-
"Well, I have to spilt," he said, sliding out of seat. "See you in class, then."
"Or maybe not..." she sighed quietly and stabbed at her egg a few times before relenting. "I'm going to get my bag," she announced, standing up.
"Oh, see you at lunch Gin!" Hermione called after before returning to her chat with Harry.
She had accepted the fact that she would never be a part of their group, but she at least wished she had one of her own to chat with at the breakfast table and do all that other friendly stuff. Well, she did have a couple of friends in Hufflepuff but none in her own house.
She blamed it on her first year.
Everyone in her year had, once or twice, or many times over, watched Ginny stare off placidly all day and even forget where she was a few times (which was the most bizarre when she was on the loo). That had to deter at least a few of them. Especially her roommates who had the privilege of hearing odd things being spoken late at night, like "No, Tom, they mustn't here us. Hush now," before waking up screaming.
She kicked resentfully at a stone column in the Entrance Hall before a painting asked her to kindly desist.
So she decided to wander. There was a good fifteen minutes before Potions started anyway.
The light through the windows was murky November gray. "Image through a glass, The reflection of my soul. How slowly my life does pass Just waiting for the toll."
"Ugh," a voice grunted from over her shoulder. "What a downer you are. Wasn't very original either."
She glowered menacingly at the frogish-looking ghost known as Peeves. "Who asked you?" She huffed and stomped off.
'Where am I?' Ginny wondered. She didn't recognize this corridor, or its few scattered paintings. She was standing below a gloomy staircase, uncertain if she should take them or turn back when she froze with a gasp.
The feeling again. An icy hand along her back...
Her breathing grew ragged as her eyes darted along the wide corridor and tried to penetrate the shadowy stairs. 'No. It's behind me.'
She slowly turned around.
A boy stood in front of a tattered old wall hanging. He was an inch or two shorter than Harry's 6'0". Slightly mused ashen blonde hair silhouetted his pale face, graced with large, pouty lips. But it was his sharp, icy stare that captured Ginny.
"Why have you been following me, Malfoy?!" She blurted out.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"And since when did I take up that hobby, Weasley?"
Her face went radish again. "I don't know 'since when,'" she cried frantically, "but I know you've been staring at me-well I didn't see you, but I know you have-don't deny it!"
His eyes narrowed. It was too late to take it back "What the fucking hell would I want to stare at your ugly face for? Your bloody mad!"
"If it's so very ugly then why were you doing it a minute ago?!" It was suddenly feeling very hot. "See! You're doing it again!" A chill ran down her spine. 'His father's a Death Eater!' She took a step back.
Draco smirked. "Scared of me, Weasley? If you're this paranoid all the time shouldn't your mudblood prefect be here to hold your hand in the scary corridors?"
She glowered at him. "Shouldn't your boot licking goons be here to watch over your precious little arse in car you brake a nail?"
Draco strode toward Ginny. Her heart caught in her throat.
'Oh God no!'
She turned to run when a window shrieked close to her ear.
Glass shards dove to the garden below.
Ginny watched in a daze as Draco pulled his fist back through the window, trickles of blood slid down his pallid hand and struck the stone floor.
"I don't need them." He whispered thickly.
His frosty eyes pierced her chocolaty brown.
Draco took a step toward her, hesitated, and then turned away. He pulled a sliver from his knuckles and tossed it, ringing to the cold floor before quickly walking to the wall hanging and slipping behind it to descend below.
Ginny gaped at the bloody shard on the floor.
Distant voices trailed up through the woven cover.
"Gods! Draco, what happened??"
"Shove it, Crabbe. Like you give a shit."
[Sorry Hermione wasn't in at all this chapter! She, Harry, and Ron will come in a lot more the next couple chapter. Well, what do you think? Please review! Criticism is liked, as well as "Well...that wasn't so bad." Comments. All is wanted! See you next chapter!]
Shadows of Desire
Chapter 1: Shadows of a Watcher
Draco had been chewing lazily at a cold sausage for a while now. He gazed idly at the Gryffindor table, as he was accustomed to doing while half-listening to the buzz of voices round him. If the topic wasn't about Draco or quidditch, he could stay silent for all of breakfast. Especially when he was sleepy.
"They look exactly the same!" a voice that even sounded fat and Draco came to associate with Goyle said. "Both have long red hair, big tits, a nice bum, and freckles."
'Red hair?' that got his attention! There was an abundance of the stuff right in his line of sight.
"Blimey, you're right!" a childish voice cried out. "We could be twins!"
"No, you're fatter then she is, Blaise," Pansy retorted with a deep chortle.
This got a laugh from the table, causing Blaise to take on the exact shade of her hair.
"I'm not fat!" Blaise Zambini, 5th Year Slytherin, pouted. "And you're supposed to be on my side, Pansy."
Pansy gave her a deathly stare that could scare the shit out of anyone (except Draco thought. He had a better one). "And why should I?"
Blaise quickly looked away.
Draco sighed. What an idiot.' Ever since Pansy found out about he and Blaise's nightly romps she and her girlie flock had decided to make Blaise's life a living hell. But, of course, Blaise was too thick to catch on. That's why Draco put up with her. Good snog, no baggage; which, Pansy Parkinson had an abundance of.
Draco glanced back and forth, at the redhead slouched over her plate across the room and the one sitting, for once quietly, next to him
"And you morons 'just' realized this?" He asked coolly. His icy eyes flicked to Blaise. "Why the hell would you want to be compared with a Weasley anyway? I'd shave my head, if I was you."
He carelessly tossed his fork-impaled sausage onto the table, shoved his chair back and strolled down the isle of gawking schoolmates.
"Prat should go shave his hairy white arse!"
Laughter.
"Shut it, Shiyne! He'll here you!"
Draco needed a drink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Draco?" A mousy voice called from a sliver of light at the burgundy oak door.
He didn't answer but continued staring intently at the nice ceiling pattern.
Are you alone?"
"You 'just' came from a table full of Slytherins," he said, incensed. "You tell me." 'Girls as thick as her shouldn't be aloud to talk.'
The door clicked shut. Soft movement made their way to his bed. It paused uncertainly at it's left.
"Draco?"
"Mm."
"I thought you like my hair. That's what you said our first time."
"..."
"You don't really want me to shave it all off, do you?"
"I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole if you did."
He could almost feel her relief. The fact that she cared so much what he, let alone anyone, thought of her hair was sickening, especially after she was insulted in front of a few dozen people.
Blaise climbed into bed and sprawled along side him, her head resting on his chest. A dainty hand slid under his dress shirt, suggestively.
Ginny's somber face invaded his mind.
"Get off!" He snapped, pushing her roughly away.
"Draco?" Blaise's injured voice called but he was already out the door, down the steps, through the portrait whole, and along the stone corridor.
He ran his hands through his ashen blonde hair.
'Ginny Weasley. Ginny Weasley! Why did it have to be Ginny Bloody Weasley? Can't snog Blaise anymore. Her bloody face would pop up!' He let out an exasperated growl and strode faster.
Draco 'really' needed a drink.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny had this unnerving feeling that she was being watched. This time she was almost positive it wasn't her sausages. Fred and George's friend, Fefi Creevy, a 7th year with short red hair that could almost pass for a Weasley, had moved on to knew and better transfigurations, leaving her sausages alone, thank god! She liked her sausages and felt strange eating them when they look back at her with pleading eyes before coming to the conclusion that it was safest to run away.
There it was again! That feeling!
This was getting suspicious. She quickly turned her head this when and that, hoping to catch the culprit in the act.
Her twin brothers, Fred and George, were in a huddle with their friend, Li Jordan, at the end of the table; Ron had dived into another lengthy Quidditch tale, slightly altered, which would have been interesting if it wasn't his tenth re-telling; the Gryffindor chasers were discussing battle tactics and kindly ignoring Ron; Fefi pretended to listen all the while craning her ear toward the twins and shuffling closer now and then; and a sandy-haired boy was prodding Ginny with his wand (not a safe thing to do, by the way).
"What?!" She asked slightly more irate then she meant it to be.
"Erm, all right there, just wondering if you're feeling okay. Look a little peekish."
Ginny went a healthy shade of radish (beets are more purple). "Colin! I'm sorry! Just a little twitchy this early." She laughed nervously. "You know, with potions and all first class."
Colin shuddered. "Ugh, don't remind me. I just ate."
Ginny chuckled. She had been paired up with him a few times in their classes and found him easy to talk to; which was a rare thing in her case. He even complemented her poetry, though she doubted he meant. Someone told her that Colin was working on a monthly Hogwarts newspaper. Maybe they could talk about-
"Well, I have to spilt," he said, sliding out of seat. "See you in class, then."
"Or maybe not..." she sighed quietly and stabbed at her egg a few times before relenting. "I'm going to get my bag," she announced, standing up.
"Oh, see you at lunch Gin!" Hermione called after before returning to her chat with Harry.
She had accepted the fact that she would never be a part of their group, but she at least wished she had one of her own to chat with at the breakfast table and do all that other friendly stuff. Well, she did have a couple of friends in Hufflepuff but none in her own house.
She blamed it on her first year.
Everyone in her year had, once or twice, or many times over, watched Ginny stare off placidly all day and even forget where she was a few times (which was the most bizarre when she was on the loo). That had to deter at least a few of them. Especially her roommates who had the privilege of hearing odd things being spoken late at night, like "No, Tom, they mustn't here us. Hush now," before waking up screaming.
She kicked resentfully at a stone column in the Entrance Hall before a painting asked her to kindly desist.
So she decided to wander. There was a good fifteen minutes before Potions started anyway.
The light through the windows was murky November gray. "Image through a glass, The reflection of my soul. How slowly my life does pass Just waiting for the toll."
"Ugh," a voice grunted from over her shoulder. "What a downer you are. Wasn't very original either."
She glowered menacingly at the frogish-looking ghost known as Peeves. "Who asked you?" She huffed and stomped off.
'Where am I?' Ginny wondered. She didn't recognize this corridor, or its few scattered paintings. She was standing below a gloomy staircase, uncertain if she should take them or turn back when she froze with a gasp.
The feeling again. An icy hand along her back...
Her breathing grew ragged as her eyes darted along the wide corridor and tried to penetrate the shadowy stairs. 'No. It's behind me.'
She slowly turned around.
A boy stood in front of a tattered old wall hanging. He was an inch or two shorter than Harry's 6'0". Slightly mused ashen blonde hair silhouetted his pale face, graced with large, pouty lips. But it was his sharp, icy stare that captured Ginny.
"Why have you been following me, Malfoy?!" She blurted out.
Draco raised an eyebrow.
"And since when did I take up that hobby, Weasley?"
Her face went radish again. "I don't know 'since when,'" she cried frantically, "but I know you've been staring at me-well I didn't see you, but I know you have-don't deny it!"
His eyes narrowed. It was too late to take it back "What the fucking hell would I want to stare at your ugly face for? Your bloody mad!"
"If it's so very ugly then why were you doing it a minute ago?!" It was suddenly feeling very hot. "See! You're doing it again!" A chill ran down her spine. 'His father's a Death Eater!' She took a step back.
Draco smirked. "Scared of me, Weasley? If you're this paranoid all the time shouldn't your mudblood prefect be here to hold your hand in the scary corridors?"
She glowered at him. "Shouldn't your boot licking goons be here to watch over your precious little arse in car you brake a nail?"
Draco strode toward Ginny. Her heart caught in her throat.
'Oh God no!'
She turned to run when a window shrieked close to her ear.
Glass shards dove to the garden below.
Ginny watched in a daze as Draco pulled his fist back through the window, trickles of blood slid down his pallid hand and struck the stone floor.
"I don't need them." He whispered thickly.
His frosty eyes pierced her chocolaty brown.
Draco took a step toward her, hesitated, and then turned away. He pulled a sliver from his knuckles and tossed it, ringing to the cold floor before quickly walking to the wall hanging and slipping behind it to descend below.
Ginny gaped at the bloody shard on the floor.
Distant voices trailed up through the woven cover.
"Gods! Draco, what happened??"
"Shove it, Crabbe. Like you give a shit."
[Sorry Hermione wasn't in at all this chapter! She, Harry, and Ron will come in a lot more the next couple chapter. Well, what do you think? Please review! Criticism is liked, as well as "Well...that wasn't so bad." Comments. All is wanted! See you next chapter!]