state of mind
.:: two broken souls ::.
She sways under strobe lights and disco balls, her slender porcelain hands held up by puppet strings in the hazy air of the night club. Sweat trickles down her back, clad in a black skin-tight dress. The club is packed and she feels skin against skin with every move.
Finally when her skyscraper heels threatens to topple her over she moves from the crowd, a slithering sequined enigma and ends up on the outside. She tosses her fiery red hair over a thin pale shoulder and watches the crowd. A vixen like smirk crosses cherry red lips.
Ginny's always been the odd one out.
The golden trio are probably sleeping by now, with their solid professional jobs and children. She could have been the Chosen One's chosen one; it was her role if she wanted it.
But she didn't. And now she was here, one dingy night club after another every night.
The thing is, though, Ginny doesn't care. She doesn't care to be another girl to be faded out of the spotlight. She wants to make her own name for herself. She likes the dancing, the attention, the hungry stares from everyone else.
So there she was, lounging on a bar stool watching the partygoers dance the night away. Finally as another hour of watching melts away she decides it's time to go.
Her exit is just as dramatic as her entrance. Everyone watches her leave, the mysterious silhouette and its lithe figure exiting in a bathe of light from the outside.
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It's cool outside and Ginny enjoys the crisp breeze on her sticky skin. Its times like these, right after dancing and watching she feels invincible. While the moon watches her from its perch in the sky, she digs a cigarette out of her bag, lights it and takes a hit.
She doesn't really remember where she picked up the habit.
What she does remember is that when she takes a puff, her nervous trembles in her fingers stop trembling. Her brain feels clear and less muggy.
Ginny feels different.
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A boy stumbles through the door, metal studs on his leatherjacket scraping against metal door. He holds a slender hand to his forehead as he wobbly comes to a stop. Breathing in deep he gropes the brick wall behind him, looking for a spot to rest.
Ginny's eyes pierce him, scanning over his lean body. His shock of blonde hair is fluorescent in the moon light. His lips are thin and upturned, probably from hours of scowling and proud smirks. And, when he moves his hand from his face Ginny sucks in a breath because she knows exactly who this strange boy is.
Draco Malfoy.
"Hey," she says, pretending to only see him for the first time. She crosses her arms across her chest, the cigarette dangling precariously from her fingertips.
And when Draco blinks open his eyes, startling blue in the moonlight, a smirk etches itself onto his face. His eyes are like stained glass reflecting ice; Ginny Weasley feels a shiver run down her spine as his stare slithers along her body.
"Weasley," he smirks, in a voice low and rough.
"Malfoy. What? No plans for world domination tonight?" The youngest Weasley sneers.
"No, but I'll settle for dominating you," he retorts with a cold laugh.
"Get real," she purrs, "you could never handle me."
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Contrary to Ginny's words, Draco finds he can handle her just fine. The two are pushed against each other, stuck between endless air and rough brick. Ginny's lips are on fire and her cigarette, forgotten, has tumbled out of her fingers.
Draco is pressed up against her, his fingers curled around red hair, twisting and pulling.
Funny, Ginny thinks, how people can go from hating each other to snogging each other.
But she doesn't think for long because Draco is pulling back from her, a confident smirk lit upon his luminous face. Panting, she watches as puffs of air trail in front of her from her lips. Draco inhales loudly and steps away.
"Are you sure about that?" He asks, as if his lips have never touched hers.
Pulling herself together, Ginny starts, "You've got lipstick over there." She makes a miming motion to the left corner of his mouth.
He turns scarlet. It's Ginny's turn to smirk. Using the back of his hand he swipes at the corner until the trace is gone. They're both smiling now, outside a dim club in a cold evening with barely there clothes.
"Do you want to go somewhere?" Draco asks.
She pauses. Does she? Well…she's got no plans for tonight.
"Three Broomsticks?" Ginny replies.
They're both young and invincible tonight. They've got no worries about tomorrow, all they've got is the time for the evening. And maybe it's stupid, but Ginny can't help but feel a tingle in her spine where there used to be nothing.
He holds his arm out; she curls her own around it. And then they disappear, under the knowing eyes of the night sky, holding its breath.
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