Disclaimer: I own nothing- wow, that's a depressing thought.
Thanks to my AMAZING beta james-fanatic!!!!!!
My gripe is not with lovers of the truth but with the truth herself. What succor, what consolation is there in truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie.
- Vida Winter.
Tantalize
Chapter One
It was the end of August, just a few days before school started. My family, along with Harry and Hermione, were staying at the Leaky Cauldron. I had snuck out of the room I shared with Hermione, and was currently sitting in one of the bay windows of the pub that faced the street. Diagon Alley was completely deserted and I found the setting perfect to write in my journal.
I had been sneaking out every night since we got here. The window was the only place where I got the peace and quiet I needed to write. I cannot even imagine the amount of trouble I would get in if mum or dad found out where I spent my nights.
The world was a changed place, as they so often reminded me. Its not like I didn't understand that, its just… if our time here is numbered, then we shouldn't spend it in hiding. We should enjoy what little time we have left. I know safety is important, I'm not stupid, but I believe that there is a point when you have done all you can do to ensure your safety, and my parents were way past that.
I would rather not think about everything that's changed. I still couldn't believe that we are going back to school without Dumbledore. It's going to be completely different. Everything is changing at such a fast rate, I can hardly keep up. And under no circumstances will I tolerate being left behind.
The moon shone resembling a diamond embedded in the starless sky. It was well past midnight and the darkness was so thick, I could barely make out the deserted store windows across the street. A large cloud moved aimlessly across the sky, obscuring the moon which was the only source of light I was using to write with, apart from the few candles that were littered around the pub.
Even in the late hour, there were still wanderers here, crowed in the corners speaking in nothing more than hushed whispers. A dense fog was slithering its way across the cobblestone. Which gave the street a sepulchral air, causing me to draw my feet up from the floor.
The shrill sound of an owl cut through the silence and I was met with a draft of icy air from the opening door. I hadn't seen anyone walk up to the door let alone on the street.
As the two cloaked figures made their way across the pub, I immediately regretted my idea of coming down here. Really, what on earth had I been thinking?
Drawing my cloak close and making sure my fiery red hair was concealed, I quickly made my way across the pub to the stairs, trying desperately not to attract attention. When I was a few feet away, relief flooding through my body, the clouds decided to move causing the pub to be filled with a few beams of moonlight. The strongest leading toward the table where the cloaked figures sat. For reasons unknown to me, my eyes decided to follow the beam of light to the table where I was captivated by the sight of a pale hand. My eyes moved up the body till they rested on the face, which was now partly visible. I realized the face belonged to a boy around the same age as my brother.
By this point I had completely stopped walking and was currently staring at the white blond hair that reached passed his eyebrows. As if he felt my gaze, his head jerked in my direction causing our eyes to meet. All of the air seemed to leave my body and my journal fell from my grasp. I was unable to move as his gray eyes held mine. Time seemed to freeze as my mind slowly put the pieces together. I recognized the face that how I ever forgot it is a complete mystery to me.
I was staring into the slate gray eyes of Draco Malfoy.
All thoughts of being stealthy left my mind, I needed to run but my legs wouldn't move. Using all the willpower I possessed, I tore my eyes away from his and sprinted up the stairs. I could hear his footsteps behind me and knew it was no use; his legs were much longer than mine.
Just as morbid thoughts about death entered my mind, an ice-cold hand gripped my wrist and I was sharply pulled around. I don't know how long we stood there, our eyes level to each other, just listening to the fast paced beating of our hearts. His firm grip never left my wrist as I stood there wondering what he was waiting for.
As my thoughts once again began to drift, I felt an abrupt yank on my arm and I was forced to look him straight in the eye. However, I was not met with the cold stare I was accustomed to but pleading eyes.
"Don't tell anyone you saw me here" he pleaded in a soft voice.
That was one of the last things I was expecting to hear and all rational thought left my mind.
"I have to go," I said, trying to get my wrist out of his grasp.
"NO. Don't tell anyone we're here"
"OK, I won't. I just have to go". I replied, not understanding why I sounded out of breath. Maybe it was because I had never heard him speak like this; he didn't have the usual hint of malice in his voice.
He pulled me closer to him, to the point where our foreheads were almost touching. His breath causing shivers to run down my sides.
"No, promise me you wont say a word. Please, Ginny. Don't tell". I took a sharp intake of breath, never having heard him say my first name before.
"Yes". I said fiercely nodding my head, looking up at him with sincere eyes. "I promise I won't tell".
He nodded once and quickly dropped my wrist before fleeing down the stairs. I ran all the way back to my room, not stopping to breath until I was safely in my bed. As I lay there, a million thoughts passed through my mind. Why had I not done anything? I wasn't powerless, I had my wand in my cloak and of course I could have screamed. I had one of the people responsible for Dumbledore's death completely at my mercy, and had promised him that I would not tell a soul that he was here. What the bloody hell is wrong with me? He had caused so much suffering and yet, I let him get away.
Similar thoughts played in constant loops in my mind until sleep finally invaded my conscience. However, the last thought in my head before drifting off to another restless sleep was not of my stupidity but of the tingling sensation I had felt trailing up my arm. Starting at my wrist.
Review!
Waverly
I can tell from where you're standing
the night's about to get a whole lot sweeter