Disclaimer: Not mine, it's J.Ks… J.K. Rowling that is! :) Only thing that is mine is the… well I would say plot, but there isn't much of one. Anyway you catch my drift.
Authors' note: The break gets out of hand and I'm really loving writing this fic… just hope I keep my typing to a decent standard after the mistakes I noticed last time, the idiot I am! Keeping it to a PG-13 for now… it's tough, but I'll manage.
Acknowledgements: To my cousin 'cause he's had a tough weekend… time some time out, read this, relax… and of course to all my reviewers. Thank you.
* * * * * * *
~ * ~ Chapter 2 ~ * ~
* ~ * Aftermath * ~ *
* * * * * * *
The sinister crawling, shivering feeling of realisation, cold as ice, scary as hell itself. It creeps up your spine almost in the way a poison creeps through your veins, overtaking every last molecule, destroying your inner being, reducing you to nothing. You sit in silence attempting to create your own sense of solace, to try and decide in your head what's important in life.
Reputation…
Love…
Two very simple things so it seems, yet totally complex. Reputation, that of your family, that of your friends, and that of your own. Love, that of your family, of your friends, and of that one special person that makes you feel as though you're floating on cloud nine. There is no true way to describe it, to define a love so special, to define what makes a grown man break down and cry all his fears away within a wash of tears.
Men have habits of throwing a thing so special away, it's about reputation you see, if you told your friends, 'I'm in love, she's so unique, I could never think of another', well, they'd laugh. Not the 'that's funny' laugh, the 'I take pity on you' laugh. It's laughter you dread to hear, it's the laughter of sheer shame, and to think that it radiates from your friends makes it worse.
Love is always – according to romance novels – perfect, genuine, returned without hesitation. You declare how you feel, three simple words, and immediately your hear those same words whispered back to you.
Passion…
The words should be full of passion, as if you're displaying your heart through them. If you're a man the words should be followed up with hot sex. If you're a woman the words are followed up with sensual lovemaking or just a loving embrace. Two separate entities, with two very different outlooks.
And as he sat – hunched over, elbows resting on his knees, chin resting on his hands, hair covering his forehead in wisps of matted gold – he considered what he really felt. How the afternoon had progressed. The feel of her hands as they roamed over his body, frantic to touch, burning to taste.
It was wrong to love her the way he did, he knew it, and everyone under the sun knew it. His heart though, disagreed, pining after her when she was gone, searching for her in his dreams of lust and desire. Auburn curls falling around her neck and tumbling across her shoulder blades, he could only imagine what the same shimmering redness would look like against the creamy colouring of her bare skin. Mysterious, sensuous eyes that burnt into you like hot coals. The glittering brown peering at you through dark lashes.
He had to snap out of it, he knew it was wrong to think of a Weasley in such a manner. After all, the girl – beautiful as she was – belonged to the same family as Ron. With a heavy sigh he rose out of the chair and walked to the window, which was imbedded high into the common room wall, after all the Slytherin common room was situated near the dungeons. Outside the rain was still falling, heavily, and drops of rain raced down the frosted window pane. He needed out.
Draco closed his eyes for a moment breathing in the scent of ash and over boiled potions, the scent that always wafted over from Snape's classroom. He didn't mind though, you got used to it. Although he did wonder what the other common rooms were like, he presumed they had a lot more light… the Slytherin common room was one of the darkest rooms in the entire castle.
Walking over to the dormitory staircase he started up it, taking one slate step at a time. Luckily he knew no one else was around at that moment so he'd be able to go up to bed without anyone talking to him, silently slip beneath the covers and melt away in his dreams of her.
As he stepped into the room he shed his robes then crawled beneath the cool sheets, not bothering to dress for bed. He laid his head against the pillow and closed his eyes tightly, being in the world at that moment was painful. With a snatch of his hand he took hold of the cover and brought it up around his neck, the room seemed to be cooler than usual, but that was probably because he was still wet from his excursions in the storm.
Time ticked by slowly, the rain pounded on the roof, thunder rolled in overhead. Occasionally the entire room would light up from a crack of lightening, illuminating the four other empty beds in the room. It took a while but eventually he fell away into his dreams…
* * * * * * *
Her heart was pounding, so loud it seemed that the chatter in the common room faded into the background, so hard it made every part of her ache. She bent over and wrapped her arms around her stomach, pulled her knees up against her chest, and rested her chin upon them. What had she just done? Had that really been her? Would Virginia Weasley really do such a thing with a Malfoy?
To think about it made her feel dirty, but at the same time she hummed all over as if she could float. Never before had she felt how she'd felt when she'd kissed him. A torrent of pure passion had pulsed through her body, making her hands tremble and her skin crawl. Even to think about it now she felt the shiver of pleasure creep over her, the same shiver that only made her want more, the same shiver that had idiotically caused her to shout after him when she should have just let him go.
Every time the echo of her voice screaming his name ran through her head, she hated herself for it. It was wrong, in fact more than wrong, it was dishonest, a disgrace to her family… It was also right; she knew she'd been craving something, and who was to know it would be the feel of Draco's lips against hers. A thought she would have named as a nightmare only a few hours ago. But now when she thought of it a smile made its way across her lips, her eyes lighting up, she was sure someone would notice.
Ginny looked across the common room and over to where Harry was sat by the fire, a frown on his face. Quidditch practice had been cancelled due to the rain and Gryffindor were supposed to have a match against Ravenclaw in three days, it probably wouldn't happen. The pitch was lying in a two inches of rainwater, not that you needed the actual ground to play Quidditch, but still they wouldn't be able to play. She took in a deep breath and got up walking over towards him, her arms still wrapped around herself.
As she reached the fire, she crouched down in front of it, feeling the heat against the side of her face. She was still very cold from being out in the rain. Ginny moved a little and seated herself on the hearth keeping her eyes locked on Harry, his green eyes were clouded over and he looked rather sad. 'Harry?' she asked gently as she pushed a piece of her wet hair from her eyes. 'Are you all right?'
The Boy Who Lived glanced up at her and she noticed for the first time that his eyes were reddened as if he were on the verge of tears. 'I'm fine,' he answered her, although he sounded very distant, very untrue, 'Just doing a bit of thinking,' continued Harry and he turned his head away.
'Thinking about what?' Ginny edged closer, her eyes filling with concern and for the first time all night throwing away all her thoughts of Draco. 'You can tell me… I'm a good listener, and you know, I'm good for a row too.' She smiled, hoping to get the same out of him, he continued to frown. 'Harry?' she pushed, raising her voice slightly.
Harry's head shot up and he locked his emerald green eyes with hers. 'Ginny it's nothing, don't worry about it… I was only thinking about my parents.'
'Oh…' Suddenly Ginny felt guilty, she never meant to pry when it was to do with Harry's parents, and after all he'd never known them in the way she'd known hers. 'I'm here though if you need to talk, promise me you'll think about that.'
He nodded slowly then got to his feet without saying another word, going over to the stairway. She watched him go and chewed on her lip. Hopefully Ron would be able to talk to him when he came back in from his library trip with Hermione. Ginny still wasn't sure what her brother was doing in the library, he always used to pretend to be allergic to the place. It was probably just the prospect of being alone with Hermione that urged him to go.
At that though, she laughed a little. Quickly she covered her mouth with her hand to stifle it and lay her head back against the leg of a chair, just sitting comfortably in the warm glow of the fire. She closed her eyes and rolled her neck a little getting the cricks out, then moved one her hands to rub her shoulder. It was probably the rain water mixed with a sense of guilt that made her ache like that, by morning she'd feel better.
Throwing a glance to the window she raised her eyebrows. Would the rain ever stop? How long would she have to suffer the fact she could slip over in the hallway at any moment and make a complete fool out of herself? It felt like the storm would go on for weeks, she only hoped it wouldn't.
Her mind was slowly slipping back to the feel of Draco's hands against her, his fingers running across her skin leaving her tingling wherever his touch fell. It was becoming obvious that soon it would turn into an obsession and she wouldn't be able to get enough. When they met the next day, what would happen? She didn't even know if she trusted herself with him, there was something about the way that he behaved that made her unable to protest. As soon as she felt his hands on her, her knees went weak, and a wave of heat smothered her.
Now it was best she just went to bed. Sitting in the common room fantasising about Draco was getting her no where, except making her unbelievably happy of course. Jumping to her feet she ran up to her dormitory and slammed the door behind herself staring into the darkness, her breathing heavy and uneven.
Ginny took a step over to her bed and undid her robes, dropping them to the floor in a crumpled heap. Then she took off her tie and wrapped it around one of the bedposts, followed closely by her shirt which she tossed down beside her robes. Next she pulled off her boots and placed them down neatly, finally followed by unzipping her skirt and sliding it down slowly over her hips. She threw it over by her other clothes then jumped onto her bed. Dropping her head to the pillows, she looked up to the ceiling; it was debatable if sleep would come to her straight away or not.
Gradually her eyes closed, weighed down by the toil of the day, sleep inching its way across her. Tired eyes, tired limbs, tired mind. She rolled onto her side and tangled herself up in the covers; she buried her head into the pillows more, trying to muffle the sound of the storm outside. She was bored of it.
Would the rain ever stop?
Would the thunder cease?
Why did it hurt so much to love him…?
* * * * * * *
More authors' notes: Did you like that? Shorter than the first part but I especially love the first paragraph… came to me after watching 'Cruel Intentions' (love that film!). All right, what are you waiting for? REVIEW and REVIEW NOW!
