Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 4: Disturbia
Ginny's POV
After a few moments of heavy breathing, I got my bearings. I shook my head to ward off the rest of my headache.
My skin still burned from the memory of his touch.
My face suddenly flushed with embarrassment. As juvenile as it sounds, Draco Malfoy had the hots for me. I felt like I was pushed into an unknown spotlight. I cautiously walked out of the alleyway, making my way to a ministry-approved apparating site. Every corner I turned, I got redder. I wondered how many people knew: what went on, how he treated me, fooled me, caressed me.
Gosh, I was being ridiculous. Of course no one knew the past 10 minutes of my life. And I had no reason to feel embarrassed. I didn't cheat on Harry and had absolutely no interest in Malfoy.
In fact, I was scared shitless of him.
Finally at the site, I tightened my grip on my wand, to make sure it was still there. After what happened, I don't think I'll ever let go of it. After focusing a little, I'm squeezed as if through a tiny tube, disappearing into space.
One hundred twenty miles away, I stumbled into the kitchen of my and Harry's small apartment located in a suburban muggle town. I guess I was still a bit shaken after my encounter with Malfoy, I nearly crashed into a chair. Harry, taken by surprise, jumped up from his place at the table, Daily Prophet still in hand. I started toward him, just wanting to be in his arms, safe and secure.
Just how Malfoy wants me: safe. His words still rang in my ears: "You can keep on being Pothead's adorable little cheerleader, but be safe."
But before I could grab hold of Harry, he shot up his wand and looked at me expectantly.
"What did Kreacher give me for Christmas during my sixth year?"
I sighed. Security questions. I felt like I was going to collapse and on the brink of tears. I quickly answered, "a package of moths." (A/N: I kind of forgot what Kreacher really gave HP, but it was something along these lines.)
Harry gently dropped his wand and softly smiled.
For a second, my blood turns cold. Malfoy's distinct leer flashes before me, and I wonder if Harry ever handled me in a condescending way.
Ridiculous, ridiculous, ridiculous. I banish these thoughts from my mind and wrap my arms around Harry, my love. I nuzzle into him, trying to get as close as I could possibly get. I couldn't believe how much I was shaking – I was home and safe. The idea that I faced possible capture, torture, even death just a few minutes ago was incredible. The weight of the war suddenly crashed onto my shoulders, and I let a few tears escape.
"What happened?" Harry asked. He stroked my hair and held me closer.
My eyes shot open as I became aware that this was more than a soft body I was taking console in.
Harry's voice was just as soft and concerned as Malfoy's. I wanted him to stop stroking my hair; it reminded me of Malfoy's skilled fingers massaging my skull.
It was sick of me to make parallels between Malfoy and Harry. I couldn't help it. Though Malfoy was miles away, he would now and forever be ever present in my life.
Then I felt something different: my heart banging against Harry's chest, and his own, calmer heart beating in time with mine, trying to slow it down.
I suddenly knew what I needed to do. I had to fight harder and beat Malfoy at his own game, for I knew I had much more to lose: the war, Harry, my family, my sanity, my freedom.
But right now, I let it all go. I collapsed, sobbing, into Harry's protective shell, holding on tight.
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