Ginny always thought Draco was a mean snob. Of course, she later realized this was a gross understatement. But Draco Malfoy did truly seem to believe, in some way, that he was superior to the entire human race. He almost literally looked down on everyone, and there was a smugness, a sort of mockery, in his smile...like he was saying, "I'm amused. I'm amused by every one of you."
The way he walked, with that tight, controlled grace...the small, sneering smiles. Even his respect was an almost indirect insult. It was as though Draco Malfoy believed that the sun shined out of his arse, and couldn't bear to have anyone blind to it.
Ginny didn't like snobs. When he approached her confidently, to jot her down as the next conquest in the long line of conquests behind her, the main reason she shrieked expletives and stormed away from him was to wipe that very confidence from his face.
But as his smirk faded, as the mockery in his eyes dimmed, to sincere, shocked emotion, she found herself understanding.
She supposed, in some way, that when everything in the world turned against you, every eye glared at you, the most you could do was try to put yourself above it all, to hold in contempt those that hated you.
In truth, Draco Malfoy sort of hated himself. He hated that others hated him. In truth, it didn't take a rainy night to make him shiver, cold, to wrap his arms around himself and hold himself together.
Which is why she warmed him. She put her arms around him, and warmed him, until the shudders subsided, until he stared at her with honest, beautiful eyes that for the first time...well, recognized that the sun didn't shine out of his arse - it shone brilliantly in the sky, and if he'd stand under it like every other person in the world, he'd feel warmth, too. After all, you could only share with other people when you decided you were one of them.
