Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters, they belong entirely to J.K. Rowling. This is purely my mind running wild…
.•*•. ••Winded•• .•*•.
I've never been one to get too close. Men have never been a serious part of my life. They just think of me as a smart girl with a pretty face. They never really know me. They never really want to. As guilty as it feels to admit it, I've only ever thought of the male race as a game. Just one big kiddie game waiting for me to crash it. Tag, you're it. I've figured them out; they're no mystery. All the same. Whistling after the snobby girl with the big chest or cute face; never giving the kind, downright good hearted ones, spotted with acne, or cursed with a boyish frame, a second glance. All the same. There's no mystery to them anymore; I've grown out of the game.
When jerk #73 attempted to kiss me goodnight, something inside me snapped. The whistle blew. Game postponed. I didn't give him a backward glance as I walked swiftly down the street; the frightful 'shoes' on my feet echoing into the black night. I didn't know where I was going to go, but I knew it couldn't be far. The third blister on my heel had apparently just burst.
Stumbling through the doors of the pub, I coughed as an ugly blend of different colored smoke blurred my vision. I edged my way to the bar, wincing with every other step. Sinking down onto the stool, I let out a stream of curses that had been waiting to escape me since my 'date' had stuck me with the bill. I heard someone laugh beside me. Glancing in their direction, I took in a handsome man watching me, a smile still on his lips. Double take.
"I don't like it here much either," He joked, a twinkle in his grey eyes. Triple take. I couldn't keep my eyes from widening, but the gasp I managed to hold down. It couldn't be him. It was. Had he recognized me? No… Not many people would. Okay. Play it cool.
"Oh! No, not that…just a bad night," I laughed nonchalantly.
"Care to share? C'mon, I'll buy you a drink," I heard that one a lot. But this time it was different. Unlike so many men I met he wasn't looking for more than someone to talk to over a drink. Slowly, I nodded with a smile. Mid-nod, I almost stopped myself. I had almost forgotten who I was sitting next to. But another part of me took over. A part that was ready to give second chances. I had given myself one, after all. The drinks came, and he turned his attention back to me. His full attention. The way he looked me in the eyes made me feel like I was the only one in the room; the only one on his mind. "So…spill…No! Wait. Let me guess." He closed his eyes, an obviously fake mystical expression coming over his features. I couldn't help but laugh. This wasn't him. It couldn't be. I had heard the rumors; I knew what he had gone through. But I hadn't believed that he had changed. I hadn't believed that he could ever change. Knowing the boy that had tormented me for six years of my life, I didn't blame myself for not believing a stupid rumor. But he had changed. Sitting right in front of me, new and very much improved. "Is that it?" He reminded me of a dog, looking for praise from its master.
"What? Sorry," I felt a slight heat rise to my cheeks. He pretended to look exasperated with me.
"I guessed a bad date," I grinned at him and nodded. He looked playfully pleased with himself. The old smirk had vanished permanently from his face. "Ok. Now you can spill. All the gruesome details." I laughed again.
"You sure seem determined to find a miserable person." For a split second the genuine happiness on his face flickered.
"I already found one," He said quietly. Almost as if it was ok if I didn't hear. I knew he was talking about himself. I cursed myself. Great. I had upset him. In truth it was a tiny fraction of the amount he had upset me in the past, but I wasn't about to let myself think about that. A fiery determination was building inside me. I could feel a wave of the old me rising to the surface. I wanted to make him laugh. Not at me. But with me. I wanted to make his eyes twinkle like they had when I first sat down. Without hesitation I started the horrific tale of my 'hot date'. And he did laugh.
We talked and talked. We talked until we were physically kicked out of the pub. And we kept talking after that. He absolutely fascinated me. The way he seemed to go to any lengths to make me laugh. The way he smoothly avoided the subject of his past. The more we talked the more I wanted to get to know him. Really know him. Finally a silence fell over us. We were sitting on the rickety bench outside the pub. The darkness had us. I could not see his features clearly.
"Do you want to…meet again?" He finally asked. I did. I told him so. We would meet here again tomorrow. I turned to leave. "Hey, wait!" I looked over my shoulder to see him jogging after me. "I-," He was out of breath. "I-," He was laughing. I never thought I'd live to see the day when he laughed at himself. "I don't know your name," I forced out a laugh, my mind racing. If I told him who I was he wouldn't want to see me again. What if he just turned back into his old self? What if this was just an act he put on for women? The air was silent around us. 'Ginny Weasley' was on the tip of my tongue. No. I couldn't give him my real name.
"Ella." I forced out. Where the hell had that come from? Even in the darkness I knew he was grinning.
"Draco," I barely made out a light skinned hand outstretched. I took it.
"Nice to meet you Draco." The air rang with our laughter.
(A/N: R &R! No flames please, but constructive criticism is always welcome!)