Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me. All credit goes to J.K. Rowling.
First Series!
Draco/Ginny
"State your name, please."
"Ginny Weasley."
"Into the microphone, please. And your full name this time."
Lifting my head solumnly from my numb arms, I glance over at the impatient woman before me. Bright, cheap lipstick is smeared on her front teeth. She's twirling a scrawny finger, nail lacquered in a fierce red matching her lipstick, in her messy brown locks. Is this what I am to become? Her eyelids are heavy with boredom as she sighs indignantly. The woman looks to be no younger than her late thirties, and I wonder if she's ever had anyone to love. Her white blouse is wrinkled and I doubt, even without glancing, that her black skirt is any better off. She reeks of longing and I of pain. We aren't too different, she and I.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley."
"And your confession?"
"I killed Draco Malfoy."
Cocking her head to the side, we meet eye to eye. "That wasn't too hard, now, was it?"
I feel a sudden rush in my head as two large men stand me up and take me by the arms. My knees are weak and my muscles tighten. I've been sitting in this room far too long. Shooting a look around the room, I notice it doesn't differ much from mine. The same dull, dreary gray color defines my walls as well, five steel bars securing the small window. The silver table I rise from looks like a masterpiece compared to the rest.
As they lead me back to my own room, my eyes stay glued to the floor in sorrow. I take no interest in studying each passerby with eyes of distraction and "what if". Half of them are insane, the rest severely dangerous and highly medicated. I am sure that this is the path I am walking down now. Today, I give my confession. My reasons, my story. Tomorrow is the trial. The planning of my execution: the Dementors' Kiss.
The door shuts behind me with a loud slam, followed by the securing of an extra bolt. Sighing, I brush a bit of dust off my white capris. The matching pullover is also a requirement in this place. As if sharing the same limited space with these whack-jobs isn't enough, matching outfits with them just finishes it off.
St. Mungos is more disturbing than I've ever imagined.
About an hour has gone by, and I remain on my bed, hugging my knees to my chest. I wonder why they even bothered to put me in this place. I'm a criminal and I deserve to go Azkaban, and just because I went into a bit of a shock, they lock me up here. All I can think about is him and how I'd much rather be dead than sitting here wondering what if I'd never fallen in love with him. Of course I don't regret falling in love with him; I just regret not putting an end to it sooner.
I hear the door open and I don't even turn to look. That's something that happens to you once you're locked up: all instincts are thrown out the window. You suddenly don't care that unforgivable curses are being thrown your way; you just want to get it over with. Wiping a strand of hair from my cheek, the sound of a chair's moving screech sends shivers down my spine. I continue to glance up at the gray morning through a cold window.
"I'd like you to start at the beginning, Ms. Weasley." His voice is calm and patient, something I'd sorely missed the entire time I've been here.
Silent.
"This may take some time, but opening this wound and finding a closure may help your healing process." He continued on, my silence not even phazing him.
I turn slowly to face him and I come to find that he's younger than I expected. Mid twenties, perhaps. He's very decent looking; thick, dark brown hair slicked back, leaving his mysterious blue eyes open and vulnerable. His lips are rosy and welcoming. He reminds me of him and that frightens me terribly.
"Why do you care about my healing process? I'm going to die soon." I close my eyes and turn my head back to rest against the wall.
"Although you killed Draco Malfoy," I flinch at his name. "I don't believe you are a killer."
"And why's that?" I don't even want to try and hide my feelings anymore. I'm angry, so I'm going to snap whether this man likes it or not.
He sits there calmly, as though trying to read through me. And who knows? He probably can. "Malfoy is responsible for your family's death. Yet you loved--or love--him. I'm not sensing any direct hostility towards this particular Death Eater, however I am concerned as to why you would help Malfoy, the man who betrayed you and killed your family, with an assignment given to him by the Dark Lord."
He stops as though he wants me to respond, but I shake my head in anger. There are so many feelings I have towards the past, yet I can't bring them out into words. "I love him, there is no past tense." I whisper at last.
"Please, tell me, when did this begin?"
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"God Malfoy, you're a piece of work."
"Stop talking to me, Weasley."
"I'm your fucking tutor. I believe that requires some sort of interaction between the two of us." I was well out of my stage of innocence so the use of profanity hardly phazed me.
"Weasley, I'm almost done, so if you'd shut the hell up for five seconds, I could give this test to you soon."
I shut my mouth and looked down at my own copy of Malfoy's test, running through the answers quickly before he hastily shoved his finished practice paper before me. After looking over it for a brief minute, I met him eye to eye, not surprised by his results.
"You passed."
He only sneered, something that truly bothered me.
"A grunt of acknowledgement might be nice."
"What do you want from me?" He sighed, impatiently.
"How about a thanks? After all this work I've done even though you didn't need it." I clenched my fists, truly aggrevated after spending a month with him.
"Thanks for nothing, Weasley."
"Jesus, last time I do anyone any bloody favors."
He sneered again, playing with his tie nonchalantly. "Oh, you and I both know it won't be."
"Fuck you, Malfoy."
"No pun intended?"
I groaned, standing quickly before gathering my materials in my arms and walking away. All I heard from behind me was a bit of muttering with my last name inserted somewhere in the mix, give or take a profanity.
I was well outside of the library by the time he grabbed hold of my robes and spun me around. The malicious look in his cold, grey eyes was always so terrifying, as if there wasn't anything he couldn't do, yet it was definately mysterious and sexy as hell. I couldn't imagine any girl not finding Malfoy attractive.
"Leave me alone," I groaned, trying my hardest to turn away. His strength far surpassed mine.
"Don't walk out on me." His firm grip on my arm tightened and I winced in pain.
I laughed coldly. "Must have been a bad month for you, Malfoy. You're pathetic enough to try and fuck me when you and I both know that I am the last person right now that you would want to fuck. Unless your women are on some sort of strike and you're missing out."
He drew back his other hand as if to strike me, but I knew he wouldn't dare. My relationship with Malfoy was an odd one, but he'd never resorted to hitting me. I didn't know if he'd hit other girls, but there was always something that stopped him whenever he tried to hit me. Dropping his hand, he instantly reached out for my neck as we met in a kiss. I couldn't deny that I was longing for his touch. There was always a hunger in our kisses, a need, as if we were a romantic couple meeting once again after a long separation. It was always too bad that this was the furthest thing from love. It was lust.
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"So I'm assuming that wasn't your first kiss?"
After a slight pause, I respond. "God, no."
I feel his eyes lock onto me as he presses on. "How long had you guys been.."
"..Fucking?" I interject. He seems lost for words.
"Yeah."
"About four months." I close my eyes and breathe softly, and remember the great moments we shared.
"So you're eighteen now, right Ginny?"
I nodd slowly, biting my lip as another flashback wanders into my mind.
"So you and Draco Malfoy would have been dating how long as of today?"
He seems oblivious to the fact that this bothers me. Isn't this is job? To help soothe people? All he's been doing is digging up deeper wounds. "As of today we would have been together for twenty-seven months."
"And why did you use this past story to describe the beginning to your love of Malfoy?"
Slowly, I look up towards the window again, eyes pressing on through the bars. "That night I realized I needed him. That our relationship was about more than sex. It wasn't necessarily love, but it was somewhere in that realm." Sighing, I tilt my head towards the man.
"And how did this make you feel?"
I hold back a laugh, wondering if this is for real. I turn to face him, eye to eye, my face void of emotion. "What's your name?"
"Mr. Amherst." He replies slowly as I sense the regret in his tone.
"Mr. Amherst, have you loved someone so much that you couldn't breathe?"
He shakes his head slowly.
"Have you ever missed someone so much that your heart ached?"
He shakes it again.
"Have you ever been so satisfied with someone that you couldn't move?"
He shakes his head again as if he's afraid of what I'll say next.
"Have you ever craved someone so much that you couldn't focus, see, or hear?"
He shakes his head once more.
"I have."
End of Chapter One!
Next chapter coming up sooner.
I promise it'll be more exciting.
I can't tell you how long this will exactly be, but I'm hoping at least ten chapters.
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