Disclaimer: Rowling owns everything. I just have the plot.
Waiting
Please don't be long; please don't you be very long
Blue Jay Way – The Beatles
She leaned against the building, watching, waiting. She knew it was pointless. He would never be there. It was the hopeless romantic inside of her that believed that he would. It was impossible. As her brain calmly and rationally acknowledged that fact, her heart spurned it, denied it. He said he would be there, and he will be. He promised. She told herself again that it was impossible. As much as she'd tried to crush, obliterate, and destroy the niggling hope that rose up inside of her, she knew that she could never annihilate it completely. The same hope that she loathed kept her returning to the same spot at the same time, every day for three years.
And so she waited.
She watched the people walking by as she took a long drag on her cigarette. As her eyes flitted from face to face, registering them and recognizing that none of the bland anonymous faces were his, she vaguely thought that smoking was a disgusting habit. She wished she could quit.
She never would.
Of course not. Smoking was just another thing that she had taken up after meeting him. Well, getting to know him, anyway. She'd known him all of her life. Now as she reached into her shabby thrift store handbag (she recalled fondly that he had detested it and repeatedly offered to buy her a new designer one that was "worthy" of her. Every time, she'd turn him down. She adored the ugly bag to pieces) and drew out a pack of cigarettes, she walked from the sun-warmed brick of the small café to a patio table just under the shade of a large maple tree. Immediately, a waiter came over to her, and she ordered a coffee, black.
She looked at the carton in her small pale hand. It was his favourite brand, she knew. The only one he ever smoked. It was one more thing tethering him to her.
The waiter shortly returned, giving her the coffee and a small plate of biscuits. She thanked him wordlessly and turned to watch the passerby's once more. None of them were him. None of them would ever be him. Her throat closed as despair overwhelmed her and she quickly looked away, instead focusing on the plate of cookies instead. Long and thin, almonds interspersed with the dough, and a fine chocolate drizzle. It looked delicious. She almost felt hungry. Almost.
She took a small sip of her coffee. Hot, strong, and bitter, she smiled in delight. It was perfect. She took a longer drink this time, relishing the burn in her throat. Slowly, the anguish that had nearly engulfed her receded. Calmly, she looked up. The sun had set and the square was almost deserted. She checked her watch. 8:30. He would not come now. With a sigh, she walked down the familiar alleyway and disapparated to her flat.
She stepped inside the small one room apartment and looked around. It was unusually neat. Her mother would have been proud. The flat was sparsely furnished and a small bad containing her minimal belongings sat waiting by the door. She could leave in a moment's notice. It was another shallow hope.
She collapsed on her bed, her chin on her knees and her favourite cloak clutched to her chest. It was his. She inhaled deeply. It stilled smelled like him. Spicy, and clean with a hint of musk. It was completely intoxicating. She sniffed the cloak once more. Tears came to her eyes as she let the memories take over. The reason she was alive. The reason she was jaded.
It was her sixth year at Hogwarts, she remembered, her home away from home. Taking a cue from her brothers, she had already been banned from several of the Hogsmeade weekends. Today was one of them. She watched enviously as the other students, giggling and excited made their way to the carriages. She sighed, her breath making a cloud on the cold window pane.
Absently, she wrote her name as it began to fade. Soon it was gone and she turned away from the window. She miserably made her way around the corridors, wandering around, hoping to find some adventure.
She was walking in the direction of the library when she bumped into someone, who it seemed, was as equally deep in thought as she was. She looked up and scowled.
"Watch where you're going, Weasley. I actually like this set of robes, I don't want to have to burn them."
Malfoy. Of course. Who else would it be?
"Really, Malfoy. If your head gets any bigger, how will you ever get it out of your arse?" She retorted with a glare.
Malfoy gave her a look that made her feel as though she wasn't good enough to be the gum on the bottom of his custom made shoe. Realizing they were both standing there staring at each other, the silence became awkward. Against her wishes, Ginny was the first one to break it.
"So what are you doing here anyway? Shouldn't you be in Hogsmeade with everyone else?" she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
"I have a transfiguration test coming up and chose to study for it instead of wasting my precious time partaking in frivolous activities with unbearable simpletons in a stupid village, not that it's your business. What does it matter to you, Weasley?" He responded coldly.
Good question, she thought as she said "Just curious, is all, Malfoy. No need to bite my head off."
From that moment she became aware of him. More than anyone. Even Harry when she fancied him. She didn't know why though. She didn't like him, she was sure. She was just aware of him. Some thing had sparked something inside of her. She noticed, during her lockdown, that he never went to Hogsmeade. Not once. Not that he had to, it was purely his choice, but it was strange is all.
And then another memory.
It was the day before Christmas vacation, and there was a chill in the air that brought a strange giddiness to Ginny's heart. She had chosen to stay at school that year. Forgetting the meaning of Christmas spirit, her teachers had given mounds of homework that would have gone otherwise undone at home. Her parents, and Hermione, fully supported her responsible "grown-up" decision and promised to send her cakes and pastries and presents.
After a delicious breakfast in the Great Hall, Ginny began to wander around the school again. It had become almost therapeutic for her. Walking helped her to compartmentalize her thoughts and sort through her emotions. Right now, she was bored. She felt an urge to wander the grounds and ran with it. She walked to her dorm, and putting on her warmest cloak, which was sadly looking threadbare, and her mittens she ran down flights of stairs until giggling, she came to a full stop in front of the doors.
She walked out the doors, squinting in the bright sunlight that reflected off the bright white snow. Stepping carefully off the icy stairs she made her way to the lake. She ran through the new snow, wrecking its pristine perfection. She laughed, realizing it was a game that she and Ron used to play as children. They would compete to see who could run through the most snow first. Often tackling each other to the ground, who had run where was soon forgotten. Ginny smiled at the happy memory.
Nearing her destination, Ginny tromped through the snow, slowing as she saw someone already there. She shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand, and saw the light reflecting off a distinctively white blond head. Mood newly soured, she stubbornly refused to go back inside and continued on.
Malfoy looked up as he heard footsteps and seeing her scowled, and rolled his eyes.
"What do you want, Weasley?" He called irritably. Ginny glowered at him.
"I'm here to enjoy a beautiful day. What does it matter, Malfoy?" Malfoy huffed, clearly irked by her answer. After glaring at each other for a minute Ginny once again broke the silence.
"So do you want to go on a walk, then?" she asked stiffly. She could see he was surprised by her question. Waiting quietly, Ginny watched him struggle with the answer. Boredom and curiosity battled dislike.
"Fine." He answered coldly after a beat. Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Well don't let me twist your arm behind your back, Ferret." He glowered at her, and then as she fell into step with him remained in pointed silence.
"What's the matter with you now?" the petite redhead asked exasperatedly.
"I'm waiting for an apology." He said simply, scowling at her.
"For what?!" She cried incredulously. He glared at her angrily.
"You know what." She thought for the moment.
"For the Ferret comment? Don't hold your breath, Malfoy. On second thought, do." Malfoy remained in silence as they walked on. After a few minutes, Ginny sighed frustrated.
"Oh for Merlin's sake, I'm sorry, Malfoy. Would you get over yourself now?" she said, "Honestly, you're worse than my Aunt Muriel." Malfoy ignored the last comment.
They walked on in silence, and though it wasn't angry that didn't make it anymore comfortable. Alternately looking at Malfoy and the snow, Ginny waited for him to talk. Realizing he wasn't going to any time soon, she rolled her eyes at the powder white ground. Then an idea came to her. Bending down as though to tie her shoe, Ginny grabbed a fistful of snow and began to roll it in a tight ball. Malfoy, the prick, she noticed, hadn't bothered to wait for her. Getting up slowly, she aimed and then threw it. It promptly hit Malfoy in the back of his shiny blond head. Ginny cheered loudly. Malfoy stopped walking. He turned around slowly, in anger.
"Weasley! What the hell?!" he yelled. Ginny giggled and pushed some of her long red hair out of her eyes.
"That, Malfoy, was a snowball. It was thrown by me, and rightly hit you in the back of your shiny, arrogant, albino ferrety head." Malfoy threw a look that screamed of murder in her direction.
"Was it now, Weasley?" he said as he bent down. Ginny, knowing what he was about to do began to back away, suddenly nervous. In a flash he was after her. She scarcely had time to run before a pile of snow was dumped over her head. She closed her eyes and screamed as the freezing snow fell inside her robes.
"That, Weasley," Malfoy quipped, "was me dumping snow on your pigheaded, ginger weasel skull, in retaliation for your ill-advised, envy-filled snowball aimed at my superior Malfoy head." She pouted.
"For your information, Malfoy, ginger is yellow," was all that she could come up with, as the snow ran in uncomfortably cold rivers down her spine.
Giggling again, Ginny began to run, a fistful of snow once more in her hand. Malfoy, eyes alight with amusement, backed away from her. He bent down filling his arms with snow and, changing direction, ran towards her. Not expecting this sudden modification, Ginny ran headlong toward him, and was thrown to the ground in a flying tackle. She opened her mouth to speak and swiftly had a handful of snow shoved in, while the rest of the powder was mashed into her face.
The game continued on for quite some time, with both parties getting thoroughly soaked. Finally, Ginny, shivering uncontrollably, raised her hands.
"Okay! I give! You win, Malfoy." Malfoy smirked in pride.
"Say it, Weasley." Ginny shook her head.
"Hell no, Malfoy. Isn't enough that you won? Do I have to sacrifice the last remaining inkling of my pride, too?"
"Say it, Weasley." He said firmly.
"Fine," she sighed. Then, grimacing, she added, "I, Ginevra Molly Weasley, in sound mind admit and acknowledge my defeat to the clearly superior Draco Ignatius Malfoy." Malfoy's smirk widened.
"Was that so hard, Weasley?"
"No," she admitted, "It was easier than I thought. I only felt my soul dying when I said the words." Malfoy, from where he was standing, walked over to where she was still lying in the snow and awkwardly offered her his hand. Ginny, after a moments shock, took it and allowed him to pull her up.
"Thanks, Malfoy," she said, allowing only a hint of surprise to colour her tone. Grimacing, Malfoy shook his dripping hair out of his steel gray eyes.
"Don't mention it. Ever. Really, Weasley, I'm warning you." Now back in familiar territory, Ginny grinned.
Halfway to castle, Malfoy noticed that she was trembling with cold. It might have had something to do with the fact that her lips were shaking.
"Weasley! Are you insane? Why would you go outdoors in such a thin cloak? Are you suicidal?! Then you have the nerve to fight me in the snow!" Ginny looked down, as her face flooded with heat.
"It's the thickest one I own," was all she said.
"Oh." Hating the pity in his eyes, she then jokingly, added, "If I didn't know better, Malfoy, I'd say it sounded like you cared."
"You wish, Weasley," he snorted, "What will all the Gryffindors think if their precious princess died of frostbite? They'd think I murdered you. Here," he said, offering her his thicker cloak. Ginny gladly accepted it.
"Won't you be cold?" she asked as concern crept into her voice. Malfoy rolled his eyes.
"Please, Weasley. It's called a heating charm. All my clothes are insulated with it. The cloak was just extra measure."
The rest of the walk back to the castle was filled, for the first time, with a comfortable silence. Once inside the warm castle, Ginny turned to Malfoy.
"Want to go to the Kitchens?" she asked, not ready to let the day end. Malfoy raised his eyebrows.
"You know where they are?" he asked, impressed. Ginny snorted.
"Of course. Look at who my brothers are. I was probably the only First Year who was privy to that kind of knowledge." She stopped short at the mention of her first year. Malfoy, obviously noticing the sudden silence, interrupted her thoughts with a casual "Lead the way."
Malfoy followed her down several flights of stairs, up a corridor and finally they stopped in front of a portrait of fruit. Raising an eyebrow, Malfoy stared at the painting.
"Is there a password? Because if there is, we're screwed. I doubt that you, as a simple ignorant Weasley, would know it." Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Watch and learn, Malfoy. Watch and learn." She reached out a small pale hand. Laughing as the pear she was tickling began to giggle, she almost missed Malfoy's eyes widen. The little green pear morphed into a doorknob. After turning it, the painting swung open and the teenagers climbed in to the clamorous greeting of hundreds of House Elfs.
Making their way to a small table as they were mobbed by a gang of tiny Elfs, Ginny and Malfoy finally sat down. After quickly being served, a hot chocolate for Ginny and a coffee for Malfoy, they sipped their respective drinks in a somewhat awkward silence. For once it was Malfoy who broke the uncomfortable quiet that seemed to be magnified by the clamor of the House Elfs.
"What are you afraid of, Weasley? Spiders, snakes," his lips quirked upwards, "Big bad Malfoys?" Ginny snorted.
"Hardly. Seeing how I'm here, I guess that means that I find you no more terrifying than a wet cat. And Ron's the one that's afraid of spiders." Draco raised his eyebrows.
"Really now?" Ginny could see the wheels turning in his head.
"I swear, Malfoy, if he finds out that I told you, he'll kill me. He'd have an aneurism. His baby sister spilling classified family secrets to the enemy." To her surprise, Malfoy laughed. To her more intense shock she found herself liking the sound of it.
"You didn't answer my question, Weasley." Ginny sighed.
"I don't know. Nothing?" Draco frowned.
"Come on, Weasel. Everyone's afraid of something."
"What about you, then? What gives the big scary Malfoy goosebumps?" He crossed his arms.
"We're talking about you here, Weasley." Ginny huffed.
"Fine! Well, I've been claustrophobic ever since…when I was eleven, and…I don't want to tell you. You'll make fun of me because it's stupid." His silver grey eyes bore into hers.
"Just spit it out, Weasel." Ginny glowered at him over her mug of cocoa.
"I'm afraid of…growing up. Not in the physical sense. That's idiotic. I mean, this is it! After Hogwarts, we're adults, and that fact terrifies me. I don't know what I want to be, what if I can't make it out there in the 'real world'? With the war on the horizon, I haven't had my time to be an idiot before I start to worry and stress about the things I know don't matter. Whenever people say to me 'Oh wow, Gin, you're growing up!" all I can think is 'I know! Now how do I make it stop?'"
She hadn't looked up from the table during her entire speech. Her eyes traced the patterns carved into the wooden table. Malfoy hadn't said anything yet. She hesitantly raised her eyes. His grey eyes for once were gentle instead of mocking. Then once he noticed her looking they started to blaze.
"You're right for once, Weasley, it is stupid," She stared at him in outrage. He held up a long finger, "but not for the reasons you're thinking. It's a stupid fear because it's something you can overcome. Stop caring about what people are thinking and do what you want. Why should what they think matter? Do you want to be a middle-aged woman with five kids looking back on your wasted youth? Do something, for Merlin's sake!"
Ginny's mouth dropped open. It was like she was looking at him for the first time. Here he was, just a handsome, cynical seventeen year old boy. He wasn't the son of the man who made her father's life a living hell, nor was he her brother's enemy. Realizing she was staring, a warm flush rose to her cheeks. Ginny dropped her eyes, but couldn't resist peeking at him every few seconds. His hair, white blond and silky, was much longer than it had been before; it came down to the nape of his neck. His eyes were fierce and grey and framed with long black lashes. His lips, thin and pale, came below a nose that was long, straight and aristocratic. His strong hands brought a cup to his lips as he quietly sipped, contemplating her.
"What are you drinking?" she burst out, ruining the moment.
"Coffee." He replied. She peered into the cup.
"There's no milk in it!" She said shocked. He smirked.
"There's no sugar in it, either." Ginny wrinkled her nose.
"How do you drink that? It's disgusting. I pour so much sugar in mine, and even then it's gross." Draco stared at her in horror.
"It's gross because you put so much sugar in it! You might as well be drinking syrup!" He shuddered, "Sugar takes away from the natural flavour of the coffee."
"Well, I still think it's disgusting." She eyed his cup, "can I try some?" He held out his cup, a smirk on his lips.
"Go ahead." Cautiously, she took the cup. Pausing to sniff the liquid, she deemed it drinkable and took a large mouthful. Then she choked painfully. Malfoy roared with laughter as she pounded herself on the chest.
"Oh that's awful! I don't understand how you can drink that. It's terrible. And it burnt my throat!" she said as she drew a rattling breath. Rubbing her throat delicately, she handed him back the mug. Still chuckling, Draco accepted his cup back and took a sip in the same place she had. As his laughter died down, yet another smirk rose to his lips.
"You know, Weasley. Technically, we kissed." Ginny fought down a blush and scathingly retorted, "Only technically, Malfoy. Take a cold shower."
A while later, when the two had run out of small talk, Ginny stood up announcing that she should go. Malfoy stood as well. They made their way out of the portrait and began to walk. The silence between them for once was comfortable. Malfoy, Ginny thought, wasn't such a bad guy once you got to know him. Finally, they stopped in the middle of a corridor.
"Well, this is me," Ginny said as she pointed behind her in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. Malfoy nodded. They looked at each other for a minute. Malfoy slowly walked toward her. Tilting her head up, Malfoy lowered his and gently met her lips. Ginny's eyes flew open in shock (when had they closed? she wondered furtively). As he broke away, he tucked a lock of her crimson hair behind her ear. He smirked, his eyes dark and intense.
"There, Weasley. Now it wasn't only technically," he said his voice husky.
"See you later, Malfoy," she said a little too quietly, a little too late in the direction of his retreating figure.
It was a sweet memory. Too sweet. It hurt to think about. It was only the beginning of their meetings though. It was almost as if they were drawn to each other. She couldn't understand at the time why it was impossible for her to leave him alone. After that, it was clear. She fancied him. Badly. Probably more than Harry. The teasing, the insults and the snowball fights were just her, immaturely and unconsciously showing him affection.
It was spring and the last of the snow was melting off the grounds of the school that Ginny loved so much. She and Malfoy had met down at the beech tree by the lake. It was starting to get dark meaning nobody was outside and the risk of being seen was minimal. Ginny leaned against him and twined their fingers closer together. It was beautiful, the sun was beginning to set and they were far enough away from they castle so that prying disapproving eyes couldn't possibly see them.
"Let's go somewhere, Draco!" She burst out suddenly. Draco looked at her, and raised an eyebrow.
"Right now? Our options are kind of limited, Gin. It's either here or the kitchens." Ginny giggled.
"I meant later. After Hogwarts. Let's get away from all of this. The war, our families, everything." Draco stood up and started to skip stones, disturbing the peace of the quiet lake.
"Don't get me wrong, Gin, but as much as I love the idea of getting away, I like being able to afford simple luxuries even more. And what about your family? Are you saying that you wouldn't miss them? That you could give everything up just for me? I can't let you do that."
Ginny shook her head, her fiery hair flying everywhere.
"You don't understand, I mean, yeah, of course I'll miss them, but I wouldn't be giving anything up. I think by now they like me enough to maybe be happy for me. Yeah, they'll be pissed, but if the choice was between me fighting and me being safe somewhere, what do you think they'll choose? They'll make the decision even if they don't like it at first." Draco laughed, long and bitter without a trace of mirth.
"You're forgetting, Gin. What about me? That's another decision that's made. Do you think they'll just let me go? Do you think that he'll just let me go?" There was a sarcastic edge to his low voice, "they'll hunt me down, Ginny. You know how they work. They'll use any means possible." His eyes softened as he cradled her face in his hands.
"I can't let it happen, Ginny. I just can't." Ginny watched a storm rage beyond the mercurial orbs.
"Promise me we'll try," she whispered. A smile quirked at his lips.
"Okay, we'll try. Where do you want to go?" he asked her, clearly humouring her now.
"Anywhere is good. I don't care if we run to the tree house in the forest behind my house. If you're there it's worth it." He grinned at her, white teeth glinting in the light of the setting sun.
"I think we might have to go a little bit further than that." She smiled back at him.
"Anywhere. Let's go to France." He thought for a moment.
"It's beautiful there. I think we have property in Paris, too." Ginny giggled.
"Then I guess we'll always have Paris." She replied mockingly.
The images began to fly by faster, every touch, every kiss, sweet nothings whispered in the night, all of it began to blur together, until one final memory ran its course.
The war had come to Hogwarts. Nobody had been prepared for it. One minute she and Draco had been in the Kitchens and the next everything became all wrong. Screams filled the castle as the Death Eaters swarmed, throwing curses left, right, and centre and taking hostages where they could. Draco grabbed her hand.
"Come on, Gin! We have to go!" He dragged her over to the back staircase that they had discovered. It was part of the reason why House-Elfs were able to go everywhere. One merely had to think about where they were going and the stairs would connect. To Ginny's immense surprise she and Draco were in her dorm.
"Draco, I don't understand!" She said frantically as he rummaged through her drawers, throwing various article of clothing at her.
"Why are we here? They're all down there! My family, my friends! I have to help them." She watched him mutter charms at her purse, the one the he hated so much. Everything fit in there. More than it should have been able to hold… The realization hit her like a bolt of lightening.
"Draco, no! I can't leave! They're all here!" Draco paused in his work, his silver eyes wild.
"I can't lose you!" he roared. She stared at him, frightened.
"You have to go. You can't stay. It's not safe here anymore. Please Gin," he whispered.
"Okay," she murmured. He threw her purse to her, grabbing her hand he ran out of Gryffindor Tower. They headed to one of the staircases before Ginny had an idea.
"Hang on!" she hissed, "Let's go through here, it'll take us outside." She whipped out her wand and tapped on the lips of a statue of a witch, muttering all the while. Finally she pulled down the witch's arm and it slid out of the way. Behind it was a crude tunnel that seemed to go straight down. Draco looked at it hesitantly.
"Ginny, I don't thi—"
"It's okay, Dray. I'll go through first." With that, Draco snorted and dove into the hole. Ginny gazed at the spot where he was before she too, jumped down.
It was like riding a cushion of air. She never seemed to make contact with the walls on either side of her, though she made sure to squeeze her eyes shut, lest she have a panic attack due to claustrophobia. The fall ended all to soon, but before she could hit the ground, Draco caught her. She squeezed his hand gratefully before they took off running again.
There was a stitch in her side and her breath was coming out in painful gasps before they finally came to a stop at the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Draco pulled her to him tightly.
"Remember what we practiced, Ginny. Close your eyes, concentrate—harder than you ever had in your life, and then spin." Apparating. He was talking about Apparating; it didn't make sense…why was he talking as though he wasn't coming with her? She thought, confused.
"Yeah, but Draco, aren't you coming too?" He looked at her. Ginny gasped.
"You're leaving me! Draco, no! Please don't leave me alone! I can't do this by myself! You said you would never leave me!" she said hysterically. He pulled her closer to him, if it were possible.
"I'm not leaving you, Ginny. But you've got to go, you can't stay here." Tears pricked at her eyes. She pulled his head down and reached for his lips with hers.
"Meet me in Paris," He whispered against her lips.
"I love you," she murmured as the tears tracked their way down her cheeks. After a moment, Draco responded.
"Me too."
There was a flash of light and the sound of footsteps pounding toward them. Draco gently pushed her away.
"Go!" he urged her as he pulled out a strange cloak, silvery and fluid in the dark. Ginny closed her eyes and visualized the little café that Draco had told her about. She concentrated on the image, thinking about the sights, and the smells, as she began to turn. She felt the air close around her, suffocating her, and then she was gone.
Her eyes hurt. She hadn't known that she'd cried that much. They burned so badly. She could hardly lift them. Her head felt so heavy… Was it possible that her heart could hurt this much and still be intact? She didn't know. It didn't feel like it. She couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. She was just so tired.
She was at the café again. It was about 9:30 in the morning. The streets were beginning to get busy. She settled herself into her chair and took a drag of her cigarette. Her eyes flickered from face to face, searching for the one that she loved. He wasn't here. When would he come? He did promise, after all. A waiter hovered just over her shoulder, waiting for her attention. She turned to him, noticing he was a reasonably attractive man. A bit older than her, but attractive all the same. Before Draco, she would have flirted shamelessly with him or any other man. Now, none of them held the same allure.
She opened her mouth to dismiss him; no she wasn't ready for more coffee, thank you very much. Instead he cut her off before she could speak.
"Pardonnez-moi, mademoiselle. Il y a un garçon qui veux tu voir." Ginny sighed. Her hopes rose in spite of herself.
"Qui est-il?" she asked in fluent French. The waiter shrugged.
"Il a dit que vous vous connaissez." Ginny's heart leapt painfully.
"Où est-il?" she asked, a strange tone to her voice. The waiter pointed, where against the wall of the café leaned a tall man. Thanking the waiter quickly, she walked over to the man, her legs feeling fairly unstable. Then he stepped out of the shade.
"Hey Gin."
The light glinted off of his fair hair showing just how long it had gotten. It just about reached his shoulders. The planes of his face were sharper, more pronounced. He looked every bit the aristocrat that his noble blood illustrated. She wanted to laugh when she saw he was wearing muggle clothes. His jeans fit perfectly, of course, and his fitted black tee set off his pale skin perfectly. Then she met his eyes. His uncertain, unique, striking grey eyes.
"Dray." She whispered. Then she threw herself into his arms. Tears rose to her eyes.
"I've been waiting so long," she told him, her voice breaking. He held her tightly, his face in her hair.
"I know, three years is a long time. But you have to wait just a little bit longer." He murmured, his low voice caressing her.
"What do you mean?" she asked, pulling back to look him in the eye.
"I'll be back soon," he promised her, as he ran his fingers through her hair.
"Why can't you stay?" Ginny asked, feeling her heartbreak all over again. Draco wiped the tears from her eyes.
"Don't cry," he soothed her, "It's not time yet. But when it is, you can count on having my sorry ass darkening your doorstep once again." She giggled. He bent down to kiss her.
"Please don't be long," she said against his lips.
"Soon," he repeated. He pulled away, and smoothed her hair back from her face.
"Now let me see you smile, silly Weasley." She grinned at him, her heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. He hugged her to him again.
"And don't let me catch you smoking again. It's a filthy habit." She laughed again, pulling him closer to kiss him again.
And then she woke up.
Ginny sat up in bed, and looked around. Had it all been a dream? The sensation of his lips on hers felt so real…
She kicked off the covers and jumped into the shower, humming for the first time in three years. Wiping the fog off the mirror, she dried her hair until it was impeccably straight and hung down to her waist. Pulling on a short black skirt, a forest green camisole, and her black ballet flats, she walked to the door before stopping, considering herself in the mirror and grabbed a black beret. There, she thought smiling. Grabbing her ugly black bag, she walked down to the café.
Taking her usual seat, she smiled at the waiter, where he came immediately to take her order.
"Un café noir?" he asked her. She started to nod before shaking her head and correcting him.
"Non merci. Un café au lait, ce matin s'il-vous plaît." She made herself comfortable, crossing her legs, when the waiter returned with her coffee. She thanked him, the she settled into her chair, and took a sip of her coffee.
And so she waited.