Surprise, everyone. This chapter is positively huge. I just couldn't stop writing; there was no good place to quit! I hope you enjoy it.
THE APPLE OF MY EYE: CHP 9
Why are men so bloody complicated? Honestly, you think you have them figured out, then the next thing you know, they're joking around when you want to be serious, getting angry at something you think is comedic genius, making assumptions that are utterly ridiculous, and on top of it all, looking completely amazing during the entire process, so whilst all of their other less than alluring qualities are completely infuriating, there's still that one little detail that draws us to them.
Now, I'm nowhere near an expert in philosophy or creationism. I can't stand the stuff. I can't help but wonder, however, what in the name of all that is holy were they—It? She? He?— thinking when they made the male brain so eccentric? And just who in their right mind came up with this 'opposites attract' business? It's completely mental, I tell you! Wouldn't it be a bit more rational to assume that two similar minds would be more compatible rather than two that went about the thinking process in completely different manners? I'd like to meet the bloke that came up with the theory. Someone needs to inform him—and I'm sure it was a 'him' that came up with it—that there needs to be basis to a statement like that.
That tangent was a result of my frustration concerning Draco's earlier behavior. The more I thought about it, the more unnerved I was about the whole matter altogether. I wasn't afraid of his character, I was intrigued by it; the fact that he thought I was frightened of him had me absolutely befuddled. I guess I was somewhat afraid, but only of the thoughts he provoked in my head. I was afraid I'd grab him around the waist some time and refuse to let go, for example. And to think that is one of the milder thoughts he created.
I shook my head in aggravation as I lofted a light pile of flakes to the side of road. After the shovel incident, Draco had initiated the start of our work on the road leading to Hogsmeade. The trees had sheltered the path from a portion of the snowfall making it significantly less grueling than the task of clearing the courtyard, but dusty foot-deep drifts were still blown askew over the brown cobblestone. I was using the work time, obviously, to get lost in my thoughts, as I usually do when faced with mindless tasks.
I looked up to watch his form as he progressed down the pathway. A good 15 to 20 feet in front of me on the left, his back formed a gentle arc and his hunched shoulders rotated slightly with every lift of his shovel. I watched in disgust as he worked: never breaking pace, always taking slow steps so that he never had to stop walking. All in all he made the whole process seem a lot more graceful than it should ever naturally appear. I glanced at the sloppy right side of the road that I was responsible for and almost laughed.
My calves—specifically the one that was being beaten to tar lately—ached as I took a step forward to resume working. Pausing to roll my ankle to alleviate some of the tension, I glanced up to see Draco, arms crossed at the elbows as he propped himself on his shovel, looking at me with an expression somewhere between confusion and curiosity on his face.
"Is there a specific reason you can't keep up Weasley, or are you just slow in general?" he called, crossing his legs at the ankles. I replaced my sore appendage on the ground and threw a determined mound of snow off of the road.
"This is your fault, you know. My being slow and all," I responded.
"Oh really?" he asked, raising a seemingly intrigued eyebrow, a small smile parting his perf—er, lips. I nodded, smiling sympathetically.
"And just how do you figure that any of this nonsense is my fault?"
"My leg is sort of aching right now, causing my shoveling to be slow. The ache, I imagine, is the result of a severely traumatized ankle, which I acquired from slipping on a mound of potatoes that my dull-witted brother slopped all over the entrance hall. However, the only reason Ron had potatoes on him in the first place was because Collin, among countless others, was badgering him about getting his picture taken. Now if you'll recall, it was you, Draco, who threw the apple that caused the allegedly entertaining lump on Ron's head in the first place. I wouldn't have a somewhat cramped calf right now if you hadn't thrown that apple. You see the nasty chain of events you created?"
A moment passed. Draco blinked.
"That's the most roundabout, indirect thing I've ever heard," he concluded.
"It isn't either," I objected, bowing my head as I strained to mask the small smile on my face.
"What would you call it then?"
"Karma." He scoffed. I could feel another intellectual standstill in the works.
"Ah, yes. I created my own demise, hmm? Can't say that I believe in that nonsense," Draco drawled bitterly. I shrugged.
"Neither do I," I stated simply.
"Then you said that why, exactly?" he demanded, frustration and curiosity barely detectable in his voice. Either that or my imagination was getting carried away again. I took a breath, hoping to achieve the same tranquil attitude that he managed during these conversations.
"To an extent, I think that the way you live your life will determine how people perceive you and affect how you are treated. I don't believe in Karma, per se, but I guess you could say what goes around comes around," I responded, tossing another light load to the side. He lounged against his shovel, unchanged, waiting for me to catch up.
"Predestination? Fate? Destiny?" He was no longer smiling, his features serious and attentive.
"I don't believe in predestination. I think we have to earn our place in the afterlife. Destiny and fate? Maybe. I don't like the idea that there are some things that are unchangeable, but I do think that some things are meant to happen to us in order to teach us something." I paused for a moment, realizing he wasn't arguing with me like he had earlier. "What about you?" He waited a moment before speaking.
"I've been taught to believe in it. My father has a very clear idea of what he wants my life to be like. I wasn't even born when he decided he wanted his son…" he trailed off, shaking his head as he looked to the ground. "He's not one to leave much room for choice," he finished, still not meeting my eyes.
Shoveling forgotten, I stood motionlessly, not quite believing what I was hearing. I was taken aback by how calm I was. Had I known earlier that Draco Malfoy was going to open up to me, I probably would have had an aneurism. Now that he was doing so, however, I found myself much more concerned with what he was saying rather than why he was saying it. Somehow the subject felt bigger than my mild obsession, and believe me, that is saying something. I paused to think about what I wanted to say, a feat that I was quite proud of, before responding.
"I can't imagine that going over too well," I commented carefully, not wanting to break off the conversation by appearing too curious. I saw his facial expression tense, and maybe I was imagining it, but I could've sworn I saw his trademark sneer flash across his face for but a moment.
"Yes, well, that's my father," he said, as if that alone resolved the issue entirely. Until that point I didn't think my opinion of Lucius Malfoy could sink any lower. After all, not much comes to mind that is worse than the bane of all humanity. With that one statement, I was introduced to what kinds of hell existed in Draco's world, all of them there because of Lucius's doing. I wanted to reach out to him, to ask him the innumerable questions plaguing my conscience about his father and his life, but that would be crossing the line, and with Draco Malfoy I didn't quite yet know if I should even be close to it, let alone bounding over it like an eager puppy dog. By no means was I going to give up, though. I was much more confident in my sense of character than Ron and Harry's, and I was becoming more and more intrigued with every sentence.
He lifted his head to finally meet my now wavering expression, and when he did so I couldn't help but offer a sympathetic look as I saw the mask smother the real Draco underneath its surface. I should have known he wouldn't take kind to such empathy, especially from someone he wasn't even supposed to trust. He narrowed his eyes in an almost painful manner. I tried to silence his voice in my head telling me to stop wasting my time for trying to understand him, no doubt the very echo of what he was thinking at the exact moment.
"Bloody hell, Weasley, do I have to do everything? I thought you were the professional snow-shoveler, here," Draco smirked, picking up his shovel and moving to my side of the path. I blanched, but recovered quickly, at his digression.
"For someone who's never seen snow before you really are becoming quite adept at this, you know." Jesus Christ, the boy was lucky I was quick witted; I wondered if Ron would ever be able to hold a conversation of such a nature.
"For someone who looks like they don't know how to spell my name your wit makes you an acceptable conversationalist," he shot backwards as he made short work of the remaining 10 feet on my side of the path. I had to laugh—which I carefully disguised, less he'd think I'd gone mental—at his use of the word 'acceptable'. With Draco that was the best I was going to get.
"That and I speak my mind," I mused. I walked—shuffled really—behind him, clearing up any stray snow he missed. "We're nearly there, aren't we?"
"It's hard to tell with the snow, but it feels like we've been on this path for a good half-mile. I expect it's right around the next corner," Draco offered, jerking his head vaguely to the right.
"Splendid. Well, as long as one of us knows where we're going. I can't even make out where the ruddy corner is." I felt no shame in admitting that I had next to no navigational skills.
"That, Weasley, is because you are a woman. You lack the internal compass that men posses, therefore giving us a much better sense of direction than you could ever hope to obtain," Malfoy explained, throwing me a pathetic look. I shrugged.
"Agreed. I suppose it's a good thing I fancy taking walks then, seeing as I'm no doubt going to spend much of my time lost. I also suppose, that since I am a woman, it's very fortunate that I'm much more observant than any man, so when I do become lost, I can pick out landmarks to get my bearings back. Much like that fallen tree I just noticed that tells me Hogsmeade is indeed right around the corner." I felt a surge of pride at that last part. It's nice to know that I'm a resourceful person. Sure, when I was little I got lost in Ron's magically enhanced walk-in closet due to a lack of navigational skill, but my resourcefulness more than makes up for the lack of directionality. Besides, it was a very messy closet, anyway. Could've happened to anyone, Captain Built-in-Compass included.
"See? You're not completely useless after all," he answered a bit too sarcastically to be considered sincere. I decided to let that one slip, as I had much more pressing things on my mind, such as the prospect of sipping a butterbeer once we made it to the village. My cloak was becoming damp and my aching legs were begging for a respite from the labor. Rosmerta would owe us anyway. I shuffled past him as he pushed aside the last load on the pathway before the bend, deliberately ignoring the fact that our coats brushed against each other.
Just as I was beginning to fantasize about the sweet liquid's no doubt glorious affect on my damp form, my dreams were squashed. Come to think of it, smothered would be a much better word. Or even better yet, buried! You get the idea. In any case, any chance of acquiring a butterbeer in the near future was completely destroyed as I rounded the corner to find all of Hogsmeade lost underneath thick, waist-deep snow. And it was still. Coming. Down. The little valley the village rested in created a sort of swimming pool if you will, with all the houses floating about helplessly in its midst.
I heard the soft click of Draco's boots on the stone as he emerged from the forest behind me. I remained frozen, not believing the sight before me eyes. That didn't prevent me from hearing the almost inaudible gasp that escaped his lungs as he discovered our predicament. I pushed that to the back of my mind. I had much more serious things to worry about at the moment, such as avoiding being turned into a rather unattractive, red-headed snow person.
"How…" I breathed, lifting a mitten-wrapped hand in the direction of the almost invisible dwellings. I saw him shake his head out of the corner of my eye. Evidently I wasn't the only one who was completely shocked. That was somewhat comforting; at least we were both on the same page, here. Even if it was absolute horror, it was nice to know we were in the same boat.
"I have no idea…" I heard him whisper.
"Do you think the trees….?" I wondered aloud, looking backwards at the path we had just cleared in the overhang.
"Perhaps they prevented much of the snow from falling there," he finished for me, nodding slightly. I shivered as a gust of wind cut into my back. "We were in there for a good hour. I expect another foot must have fallen when we were in the woods." A terrible thought then occurred to me.
"Oh, shit."
"What now?" he cringed, almost whining. Had the circumstances been different, I was quite sure I would have seized the opportunity to make fun of him. As it was, I stared off blankly into the swirling white haze as I contemplated our doom.
"I just realized how completely ruined we are, that's all."
"How do you mean?" He turned to look at me. I resisted the urge to start crying like a sad, pathetic, whimpering, mess of a girl on his very sturdy looking shoulder.
"If another foot of snow fell here while we were in the trees, another foot certainly fell in the courtyard that we spent an hour clearing as well," I reminded him, though judging by the look on his face he looked like he remembered quite well. "It's going to be completely blanketed when we go back. We're going to have to shovel the whole ruddy thing over again!"
There was silence for about 10 seconds as that sunk in.
"And you say you like snow?" he asked incredulously, staring out at the white rooftops with wide eyes. I nodded slowly. He raised a good point. I felt like an idiot.
"I can't imagine the bloody hell why!"
"Well it's not all bad," I defended innocently, trying desperately to remain optimistic.
"Not all bad, is it? Weasley, if you can name one good thing about this snow or this detention assignment, I'll buy you dinner. Twice."
Oh I could name a reason, alright. And even though I was quite certain Draco considered himself an attractive person, I was absolutely certain he didn't appreciate looking at himself as much as I did. No, I would have to come up with something else entirely, for that was completely out of the question.
How about the new experience it introduced him to? I bit my lip. Something told me Draco didn't really care to be introduced to anything related to physical labor or muggles. Since this was both combined, he probably wouldn't think that such a good feature. I personally was enjoying the pretty landscape, but I wasn't exactly sure if Draco even knew what the word 'pretty' meant, so that was a no go. No, I definitely needed a much more boring, masculine reason….I glanced sideways at him, and saw him roll a pair of knotted shoulders. I blinked, stuffing my hands in my pockets to defend against reaching over and running them across his back.
And then, with wide eyes, "I'd wager it's responsible for that muscle tension." I hadn't realized my observation had been vocalized until he looked over at me, abandoning his attempt to discretely roll his shoulders. I felt like clamping a hand over my mouth.
"I don't have muscle tension," he sneered. I turned away.
"Right, of course not," I answered. I rolled my eyes. Malfoy's don't get muscle tension! What was I thinking? What a good for nothing—
"But if I did, how would that possibly be a good thing?" his voice cut in. I closed my eyes for a moment to refrain from glaring at him. He always had to save himself at the last second, didn't he? Right when I was ready to pass judgment he made me completely reconsider his character. There was only one ailment that could possibly cause this habit in a human being: he was male. And Malfoy to boot! That alone explained a hell of a lot about his character.
"Must've given you a right good workout, then," I pointed out. "My calves are killing me," I added, so as to make him feel more manly and such. He snapped his head down to my ankle, and I mentally groaned, having forgot he would freak out at the mention of my injury.
"Your calves or your ankle?"
"Never mind that. The point is I found something good about spending the day in a snowball," I grinned. He looked less than amused.
"Hardly…" he muttered to himself, "let's just get this blasted task over with before we're up to our elbows in the wretched substance."
I looked over to where I imagined the stairs leading down the hill were located and laughed.
"After you," I said. There was no way I was going to jump headlong into a four-foot mound with Draco Malfoy at my back. No sir. If anyone was going to be the fool here, it'd be him. I took a step back so as to allow him a nice clear spot to jump from.
Draco turned to look at me, and I decided I definitely didn't like the look he had on his face. He placed a gloved hand on his heart, or where a normal person's heart was located, and took a step towards me.
"What kind of common filth do you take me for, Weasley?" My stomach clenched as I realized what he was talking about. Oh god…
"The blond sort?" He smirked. I knew where this conversation was going, and I didn't like it one bit. I may be a Gryffindor, but even the bravest feel fear, and at that moment I felt about as stoic as Neville Longbottom. He openly smiled, and I lost any nerve I had ever possessed.
In no more than a second I was spinning around madly, fleeing down the cobblestone like a frightened ninny. In my haste, I didn't exactly take into account the fact that I was wearing oversized, heavy boots, or that there was still a small amount of snow dusting the pathway. I skidded around the corner and took off like a banshee down the straight shot. The instant I got my first good stride in I knew it was a losing battle. My boots made running next to impossible, and I got little to no traction on the slippery surface we had only just shoveled. Still, I raced forward. I had absolutely no idea where I was going, but as long as it was away from Malfoy, I frankly didn't care.
As if to mock me, I suddenly became aware of an utterly terrifying sound; the rapid snap of what I knew could only be Draco's expensive boots against the stone. If at all possible, my panic level increased. Whether or not that was to my benefit I didn't know; there was already enough adrenaline pumping through my veins to get a two ton whale moving. My already aching calf began to scream in protest at the exertion, and I could feel it lagging behind the other miserably as I sprinted. I cursed under my breath. I didn't know if I could keep him chasing me forever, but you don't grow up with six older brothers and gain nothing from it; I didn't doubt that I'd give him a run for his money. That, of course, was taking into account that this blasted leg be completely functional.
I focused all my energy on running, only aware of the thudding of my heart in my chest and the sharp crack of Draco's boots. I pressed onward, the pain in my leg almost unbearable, my mind trying to tell my frantic heart that I was only imagining the footsteps becoming louder. The tingling in my spine suggested otherwise, and in my distraction I stumbled over my bum ankle, miraculously managing to maintain my momentum. I knew then that it was over.
Before I could properly brace myself a pair of arms encircled me, stilling my getaway and pulling me flush against a firm chest.
"Ah, the thrill of the chase," a raspy voice breathed in my ear. I shivered, struggling unsuccessfully in his grip. "I have to admit, Weaslette, you're a fair runner, though your form is a bit rough around the edges."
I gasped as my legs lifted off the ground momentarily.
"Now as I was saying before you very rudely abandoned me, what kind of person do you take me for?" he whirled me around much too easily for my taste despite my efforts. I tried to elbow him, but my arms were nearly pinned to my sides beneath his own. When that didn't work, I tried stomping on his foot, only to discover that the high price I knew he had paid for his boots must have been worth it, for they were much too sturdy to allow any pain to reach his foot. Things were not looking good for Ginny Weasley.
"Draco, let go!" I squawked as he began ushering me forward.
"Tsk, tsk, Ginevra, we've got a job to do!" he chastised. I froze momentarily as he used my name, allowing him to lift me again and gain several yards. I dug my boots in resolutely.
"Don't call me Ginevra. I hate that name." I glared at his shadow in the snow.
"What would you have me call you then?" he whispered. I felt my head cloud as something truly exotic smothered my thoughts. My knees gave out, destroying the brace I had formed, and I lost another few yards against Draco as I nearly fell to the ground.
That, ladies and gents, was the first time I smelled Draco Malfoy's cologne. Good thing I didn't lose control, eh?
"Ginny? Is that what you prefer?" His voice was probably the only thing that could have pulled me out of my near comatose state. Fantastic. The twit had to smell good too, didn't he?
"Yes, and Ginny really wants you to let go of her," I nearly begged, momentarily forgetting his scent at the thought of what was to come.
"I'm afraid that's out of the question. We have a job to do, and I can't have you running away now, can I?"
"I'm not going anywhere near that snow bank." I heard him laugh, his breath tickling my neck.
"I think you mean you're not willingly going anywhere near that snow bank."
"I'm not going at all. Period."
He sighed. "I didn't want it to come to this, but if you won't cooperate, you don't leave me with much choice." I felt his hold lessen for a moment, but I knew better than to expect him to give up. What I did not expect, however, was for the idiot to pick me up entirely. I shrieked as he scooped my legs off of the ground, capturing them under the knees.
"P-put me down, you maniac!" I cried, eyes widening as we rounded the corner. I kicked violently, but the only thing I managed to achieve was a striking resemblance to a small child throwing a fit. I swallowed as he stepped up to the edge of the hill, not wanting to peer over the edge.
"Now, where were we? Ah, yes, my manners," Draco drawled, smirking down at me. I looked up at him in horror.
"You wouldn't dare." He raised his eyebrows, smiling arrogantly. He would, and we both knew it.
"Ladies first, darling," he winked—yes, he had the audacity to actually wink—and without further ado, yours truly was dropped unceremoniously into a waist-deep snow bank.
END CHP 9
There ya go! Sorry if that seemed like a horrible chapter break, but it was either there or another several hundred words later, and that would have meant an even longer wait. Review, please!