File 13 Note:
Although most belongs
to J.K. Rowling, I do own the plot. I had planned such a complexity
for this one that it even confused me. My first D/G fic.
Summary: Angsty Draco/Ginny fic. At least, will be when I actually finish it, which I hope will be soon. One day. maybe. When I'm in an angsty mood. Don't doubt me, though, he IS dead, and I hate to have to spoil it for you. The real shocker is, though, HOW he died. Which isn't written yet either ;)
Remember when we were still in school? I do, and I was a sixth year, just so anxious to graduate and get out of Hogwarts... but even more so, for Ron to get out of Hogwarts. To be the only Weasley was... well, honestly, a rather pathetic dream of mine. Mind you, at least I didn't have four other siblings of the same gender, but I still thrived for that 'independant woman' feeling. It's a feeling you can't have with five older brothers. One I never felt when I wasn't around you.
With five brothers, there were a lot of things you couldn't do. Firstly, there was no one to for 'boy advice'. Sure there was plenty of male opinions ("Ginny, your shirt looks a little lumpy") but it's something that you get used to. Eventually. I suppose Hermione had always been considered part of the family just because she was over almost every summer, but still, it was different. They may have shared a room in the summer, but she was still Ron's friend. The Gryffindor girls were always the weirdest bunch (yes, you were right about it) and I hadn't really been very close with any of them. Probably the only Weasley to even be classed into the "shy loner" category. In the halls, the library, I was always alone. And the weird thing is, I never felt lonely. That is, until you left.
I mean, I was alone when we first met. Well, I'd always known of you, of course. My father hated yours, and Ron absolutely despised you. He does even more so now, but it didn't make a difference to us then. And to think, it all began when you walked in on me in the Prefect's bathroom, muttered some smart comment to hide your embarrasment, and left faster then you can say 'Hoggy-warty-hogwarts'. However, it takes a while to say 'hoggy-warty-hogwarts', and there was just enough time for me to see what must have been the reddest you've ever turned. Yes Draco, Weasley red. I wish I had a picture to show you. What memories it would bring back.
Maybe they don't matter to you anymore, memories, I mean. Sometimes, I wake up, and I still expect you to be there next to me. But the pillow's always cold. Remember how you avoided me after that night? I remember you casting me glances every so often, lost in thought, and then skirting away. You thought you were embarrassed, did you? Maybe I never told you, but you could never have understood how seeing an insecure sixteen-year-old girl naked made her self-esteem plunge. I was lost after that. My brother had begun wondering why I didn't like going out anymore, why I just liked to be alone and listen to music, and so he'd drag me out to places. To Quidditch matches. All of the like.
I think that it was one of the very few things we ever agreed upon.
Ron always was a git. He still is.
Was it me, or did we continuously bump into each other after that? Round the corners in halls, in the Great Hall... It seemed you were everywhere, staring at me. Not hungrilly, like in those bad movies and romance novels. You'd look at me, your eyes would narrow, and then you'd look away... Almost guiltily, although I hadn't thought of it then. That last time, outside the library so late that night, had been the final straw. I was tired of fealing harrassed, and victimized, and I can't quite remember how the rant progressed to your personal life, or why I was crying, but I do remember that you taught me that the victims can come from every background, and that there's always someone who has it worse off then I do. Most of all, I remember that it was the first time you called me Ginny.
And what happened after that? When we passed in hallways, you'd give curt, polite nod. Always. And when I'd sometimes space out in public (like I often did in private,) I'd shake myself to reality, only to see you staring at me with a look of concern from the Slytherin table. (I bet you don't know half of the things I noticed about you.) Is that where it all began, I mean. Where we began? Or was it a month later, after Christmas, when my brother, Harry, and Hermione disapeared, having been pulled straight out of the school by Death Eaters. I thought it was my fault, I did. The Chamber of Secrets epic had been my fault to, and ever since it happened had been able to somehow sense the darkness around me.
I know I never told you the full story about the time you found me with slit wrists and the knife from my potions kit in Myrtle's bathroom. For the exact reason I didn't ask how the hell you knew I was there. But you were there when no one else in my family had been there, pressing your palms against my wrists to stop their bleeding. You spilled everything - your stresses, your problems, and like human nature, I felt better knowing that someone else had it worse off then I did. When you pulled your hands away, the bleeding had stopped, and you healed my arms with a magic that I didn't question. Then you told me I was beautiful. It wasn't with that worthless I'm-fooling-everyone smirk you normally had, but an expression that to this day I have seen very few times.
And everything got better after that.
Harry and the others were rescued: Proffessor Lupin died saving them, but they were back. Ron stopped bothering me about going out. He even said I looked good. Hermione said I was... well, she said a big word I didn't quite catch and was too embarrassed to ask her to repeat herself. It sounded nice, though. And when I found that bronze necklace under my pillow (how the hell did you get it there?) with a note from you, asking if i wanted to go to Hogsmeade with you the next weekend, I never remembered feeling better.
I felt only the slightest bit guilty at the graduation, when I spent most of my time looking at you even though I was supposed to be there for Ron. And oh, how I ached to dance with you, but with everyone around... We weren't stupid. We knew what was at stake if we were to be seen. The night was a long one (especially since Ron had been little tipsy, babbling about how he'd be the next Minister of Magic, and that Harry'd be his top Auror. If only he knew... You know, he never really accepted the fact he was a seer. "Me? Seer? As in divination? Excuse me while I hurl...")
But that summer.... That summer had be entirely worth waiting for. We first kissed, that summer, didn't we? Not our first kiss, but the first one that ever made my knees feel quite like that. No one but you ever made me feel that way. You got your own flat that summer, too. The perfect opportunity. And then when I suggested 'staying the night', you declined, saying it was the wrong thing to do because I was underage. Funny, Draco Malfoy saying that it was wrong... You were such a twit, you know that?. You never gave it a wrong thought after I told you that I'd turned seventeen in January, and was perfectly of age.
I think that all the passion of that summer only mirrored our worries of what was to come. I guess everyone had expected the 'big bang' to happen to Harry in his seventh year. Either he'd defeat You-Know-Who, or he'd die... But neither happened, and he headed straight into Auror training. Through Dad, Ron got a ministry job in the Department of Magical Law Enforcment, where as you worked with your father in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures . I went back to Hogwarts, promising you I wouldn't do anything rash. And I didn't, either, although I didn't know what I'd do without you.
I had been so bored, I could have found poking my eyes out more amusing.I felt bad, being stuck in school when so much was going on outside. My mum began to owl me more regularly, writing of all sorts of jolly and happy things. That's how I knew things were getting worse. So, eventually, graduation came. Mum cried, while dad tried to comfort her. Bill boasted. Charlie ate the food. Fred and George practical joked. Ron and Harry spoke with Dumbledore (while trying to avoid Colin Creevy.) You weren't there, of course. You'd owled me before hand, asking me if you should go, but we both knew that it would be impossible. No one knew about us, and that wouldn't have been the ideal opportunity.
The look on their face, when I told them I was ready to move out was what those muggles would have called a 'kodak moment'. My mother's face went paler then you. "Ginny, you can't! You don't have a job! You don't have any money!" She ranted for a full ten minutes without even taking a breath, I swear! Of course, no one had ever noticed little Ginny saving her money. No one remembered that I'd been offered a place for the Daily Prophet, working as a current events reporter. They'd needed someone who was willing to take the risk, and I was. I wanted to help in my way. Not to mention the pay was excellent. Suddenly, they (my parents, I mean) didn't have anymore excuses, and I left. Finally, I was on my own. I was an independant woman for the first time of my life.
Of course, that didn't last long. Barely forty-five minutes later I'd finished moving into your flat ("Gin, are you sure this is all you own?" "Gin, aren't your parents going to think it a tad demented that you don't invite them to your flat?") I was one step ahead of you, lover. I had the whole plan formulated in my mind, and it work right up until the end.
"You know, why don't you invite me to eat at your flat?" my mother had barked at me. Cool as a cucumber, I answered her.
"Because I'm living with someone."
I swear, in the back of my mind, I heard your laugh. Not your nasty one, the one that happens when something's funny... Actually it may have been a bit of both. My mother dropped the casserole dish on the floor.
"What?!"
Not once did I ever tell her your name. I told her all about you though. The small things that only a woman could notice. The way that suble smile showed up on your face when you looked at me and thought I didn't realise. How you charmed my hair blue to show me that red just suited me more. How you slept so soundlessly some nights while you tosses and cried through others. It scared me, especially when you wouldn't tell me why. Mum always just smiled at me empathetically, because the feeling was beyond words. It wasn't long before the whole family had heard something about my anonymous beau. I think they liked you, too. But it was all because of your name that.... I think Shakepeare wrote something about that in one of his plays. Smirk. Not that you'd know.
I never suspected you of anything, you know.
I never doubted you for a moment. When you came home with that
dragon tattoo on your left shoulder, you hadn't told me it was
'special'. You told me you'd gotten it because you liked it, and
I told you I liked it because it made you look naughty. Well,
after that we'd gotten busy, but I never gave it a second thought
until know. I remember when I saw you clutching your arm, it couldn't
have been a month later. Muscle cramp, you told me, and that you
wished I could give you had a nice massage, but that you had to
go. 'Buisness'. Liar.
