Title: Narcissus
Author: Song Prophet
Pairing: Ginny/Draco
Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Just borrowing!
Dedication: To all the fans of Meanie!Draco and Broken but still fixable!Ginny.
Distribution: Sure! Just give me credit, and tell me where you're putting it.
Songs: Narcissus by Alanis Morissette
Summary: Ginny is unhappy, Draco is an ass. Will he ever love her back?
~~~~~~~~~~~
Dear momma's boy I know you've had your butt licked by your mother
I know you've enjoyed all that attention from herThe house was dark. Darker than it usually was, but then again, she should have been used to him not being there when she returned. And quieter. Where were the house elves? Somehow, it seemed darker now than it ever had been. Perhaps it was because he was not there. Or perhaps it was because he would be soon. She was not quite sure which way her will bent on that matter, and she doubted she ever would.
Clutching the bag of groceries to her chest, she flipped on the nearest light switch. The foyer of the house was immediately illuminated by a soft glow from the chandelier above. A wedding gift from Hermione and Ron. A pity gift. She sighed as she moved through the room, and through a swinging door, into the kitchen.
On the counter was a rolled up parchment. She made no move toward it, instead setting her bag down on the counter next to it. As she unloaded the basics, she stared at it, knowing exactly what it would say. Well, perhaps not the exact words, but the general gist. Excuses. That is what it held.
Once the groceries where unloaded and in their proper place, thanks to the help of the house elves, who had appeared mysteriously to help her, she picked the parchment up. Pushing her way out the kitchen door, she made her way through the living room and toward the sweeping staircase.
She paused as she caught her reflection in a mirror on her way toward the stairs. There were mirrors everywhere in the house. Her husband was a very vain man, after all, and wanted to look upon himself constantly. She was still every bit as beautiful as she was the day she had graduated from Hogwarts. As the day she had walked down the aisle. She had to have been; Otherwise, she wouldn't have been qualified to be the Trophy Wife that she was.
Her hair had grown well down her back, nearly reaching her buttocks; That was how he liked it. Long, so he could entangle his hands in it. It curled and twisted perfectly, framing her face. The red in it had faded from a bright color, to a tame, noble one. Much like she had faded.
Her eyes were still the same color of green, but the twinkle they had once held was gone. She scoffed at her reflection, not liking the woman who looked back at her at all, and continued up the stairs.
Reaching the safety of her bedroom, she closed the door carefully, so as not to wake up anymore house elves. She stumbled a little in the dark, before she felt the smooth, cold surface of her bed lamp. Flicking this on, she glanced at the large window to her right, looking to see if the heavy red tapestries where closed. Now confident that she could not be viewed by the outside world, she continued toward the bed, unbuttoning her robe as she went. As soon as it was unbuttoned, she let it drop to the floor.
Perching on the bed, she unrolled the parchment, and read over it silently.
And every woman graced with your presence after
Dear Narcissus boy, I know you've never really apologized for anything.
It was as she suspected. Her husband was at his mothers, as he always was on Thursday nights. At least that was what the letter told her. He did not apologize. Did not say any words of endearment. Just told her where he was, and that he would stop by her room when he got home. And he told her not to wait up.
She sighed, wondering if he really was at his mothers, or if he was spreading his favors among the many Muggle and Wizard women who trailed after him. She pushed the thoughts from her mind. Their marriage was one of convenience, after all, not of love.
I know you've never really taken responsibility
I know you've never really listened to a woman
Towards the beginning of their marriage, she had tried to make him love her. Back when she still had the free will and the strength to fight him on such things. But she had long since given up.
Sighing, Virginia Elizabeth Weasley-Malfoy bent over and pulled her boots off, giving an appreciative noise at the release of her feet from their tight prison. She let the boots fall to the floor, knowing one of the house elves would pick them up for her later.
Ignoring the null pain in her feet, she went about the task of undressing. There was no point in getting too many clothes on, if he was going to 'visit' her later. Clothes would only aggravate him, which would cause more pain for her later.
She crossed the bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes behind, and entered her closet. This too was dark, and she quickly turned on the light, finding the darkness unnerving for some reason that night. She looked around, half sighing at her selection. Back in her youth, she doubted her entire family had owned as many clothes as she had in front of her now. That used to thrill the money, the luxury. But now it was just another trap that held her in her life.
She selected a cream slip like nightgown. It was silk, and smooth against her skin, and she smiled a little as she slipped it over her arms and head, letting it fall down to cling to her curves. She let out a soft yawn as she did so, and after turning the light back off, made her way into her room.
She let herself sink on to the bed before reaching out and turning out the light. Darkness quickly overtook her, but she ignored it, telling herself it was silly to feel unnerved in the dark. She practically lived her life in it anyway. Besides, she chided to herself, she would need all the sleep she could get before he returned home.
Dear me-show boy I know you're not really into conflict resolution
Or seeing both sides of every equation
Or having an uninterrupted conversation
Vaguely aware of someone shaking her awake, she returned reluctantly back to reality from her dream world. Her eyes opened reluctantly, and as they focused in the darkness, she began to make out her husband's form leaning over her.
"Draco?"
She could feel his hand running down her thigh. "Of course."
She fell silent after that, rolling onto her back from her side. It wasn't her place to say much more. It had taken awhile, but she had learned her duty. Any other words she would have said would have been stopped anyway, as he leaned down, pressing his lips to hers almost viscously, his tongue begging entrance.
She obliged, opening her mouth. His tongue slipped in, probing her mouth, as his hand crept back up her thigh, pushing the slip up further and further.
She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the kiss much as she had sunk into the bed. He would always be able to give her an amount of pleasure she had never dreamed imaginable in her entire life. She was never disappointed.
And yet- Everything was mechanical for her. Yes, it felt great, but it just another one of the things she had to do. There in the darkness, was the only time he was her husband, beyond the social parties, but she did not take any pleasure in this night time marriage.
Inside, she still clung to the romantic idea of him loving her, and she loving him. Somewhere buried beneath the woman he had carved out of her, was the dream that someday, things would be the way she had always imagined them to be in her youth.
And any talk of healthiness
And any talk of connectedness
And any talk of resolving this
Leaves you running for the doorShe took a deep breath as he collapsed onto her in exhaustion. Their ragged breath came in unison as they both struggled to take in enough air to return to breathing normally. She chided herself for her weakness as a single tear fell from her eye. Because she knew there would be no cuddling. No relaxing in each other's arms. He didn't have the patience or the love for her to do that.
But …she knew she could make him say it. He would never mean it, but he would say it.
"Draco?"
"Yes." He whispered back.
"I need to hear you say it."
"I thought you were over that."
"Please?"
She sounded desperate, and she knew it, but she craved those three simple words like she craved sleep and water. Anything to feed the small fire of hope she held inside. He was silent for a moment, pulling his boxers on, and then his pants.
"I love you." He grunted, standing, and walking out of the room, carrying his shirt, robes, and her heart out with him.
She let another tear fall as the door shut, reaching for her nightgown. She slipped it on soundlessly, then rolled back over onto her side. "I love you too."
Why why do I try to love you
Try to love you when you really don't want me to
She awoke the next day to find the house empty, save for the house elves, who were running around like chickens without heads, cleaning, and, she discovered as she stumbled into the kitchen, cooking. Holding her robe closed tighter, she looked around, trying to understand why everyone was in such a hurry.
"What is going on?"
One of the house elves looked up from her pot. Sandy, her name was. "Did you forget mistress? Mr. and Mrs. Weasley are coming today. Yes, they is."
She nodded absently. How could she have forgotten that her brother and Hermione were coming? She put a hand to her head, feeling a little dizzy. She leaned against the countertop to keep her balance, and opened her eyes to find that the house elves in the kitchen were staring at her.
"Sandy is sorry she did not remind you."
"Are you all right, Mistress?"
She nodded, making her way out of the kitchen, and into the dining room. House elves were running around about her, setting the table for five. She dismissed this, and headed up the stairs to dress. Perhaps Harry and Cho were coming as well.
Dear egotist boy you've never really had to suffer any consequence
You've never stayed with anyone longer than ten minutes
You'd never understand anyone showing resistance"Gin?
She looked up from her goblet towards her brother, who was staring back at her the same way the house elves had that morning. Averting her gaze, she looked over at Hermione, who was giving Harry a look of apprehension. Cho was simply staring at her plate, pushing her asparagus around with her knife.
"Are you all right?" Harry asked.
She nodded. "Of course."
"Where is Draco today?" Hermione asked casually.
"Off doing business, I suppose."
Silence descended upon the group once again. She took this chance to inspect them, the four closest people to her, besides her absent husband. Harry looked the way he always had, completed with the unruly hair, glasses, and mischievous twinkle in his eye. Cho was still an absolute beauty, with her dark blue eyes and raven hair. Ron had grown handsome over the years, and Hermione had a classic beauty that was unrivaled.
They all were happy. Happily married, happily living. At the moment, their faces had different degrees of worry written clearly on them, but they were happy. And she hated them for it.
"We're worried about you." Cho finally said.
"And why is that?" She answered, bringing the goblet to her lips and taking a deep gulp of the wine it held.
"He's killing you, Ginny." Hermione replied.
She laughed, trying to hide how close that had hit home. "What ever do you mean?"
Ron frowned. "You know what she means."
"You're unhappy. We can tell." Cho offered.
She stood, setting the glass down. "And what if I am? I'm sorry I am bringing your happiness down with me! Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."
She walked past them, holding back tears. They wouldn't get the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Her own friends, ganging up on her like that. Didn't they know? Didn't they see that there was nothing she could do to change any thing?! She heard the chairs being pushed back, and she heard them start to walk after them, but she neither slowed, nor sped up her pace.
"Ginny, why don't you stand up to him?!"
She stopped at her brother's words, turning on her heel, looking back at the four worried faces staring back at her, and laughed. "Me? Stand up to him. Oh, Ron. You crack me up."
"I'm serious." He replied.
"He would never stand for it. Never." She answered.
"Ginny, you have to do something. Talk to him. Leave him. Before he destroys you." Cho said.
She laughed again, turning back around, and running back up the stairs. Didn't they understand? He would only get angry, and hurt her even more. He would never let her stand up to him. Ever.
Dear popular boy I know you're used to getting everything so easily
A stranger to the concept of reciprocity
People honor boys like you in this societyAnd yet, their words still echoed in her mind that night at dinner. She had changed into a dress she knew he liked, and had arranged her hair half up, making herself beautiful for him. And yet she still defied him in her own way, choosing to wear a corset and undergarments instead of foregoing them.
He was sitting across from her, picking at his dinner in silence. His hair wasn't perfect for once, she assumed he hadn't had time to shower after his last encounter with one of his women. But he looked radiant to her. The way his hair fell across his face, the way he held his goblet half in the air, in silent contemplation.
"How was your day?" She asked, breaking the silence.
"Long."
She knew this meant that he didn't want to talk about it, but, fired on by her friend's words, she didn't drop the subject. Well, she did, but it was only to bring up another one. She picked up her goblet, drained it of its wine, and drew upon a source of courage she didn't know she had.
And any talk of selflessness
And any talk of working at this
And any talk of being of service
Leaves you running for the door"I don't want to live like this anymore."
He looked up from his plate in surprise, dropping his fork onto the plate. It made a loud noise, and she shut her eyes against it, and against him. "Excuse me?!"
"I can't live like this." She replied.
"Is this not good enough for you? You, the girl brought from rags to riches, by me. Me!"
She winced, but opened her eyes, staring straight at him. "I want you to love me. I want you to be my husband, not some man who screws me as he sees fit."
He laughed at that, but that didn't stop her. He looked down at his plate, chuckling to himself, as she stood up and stared at the top of his head.
"I want to be happy."
He looked up then, his gaze meeting hers. "There is no such thing as happiness."
And then he was standing, and he was walking out, out of the house, slamming the door behind him, despite her cries, and her attempts to apologize.
Why why do I try to help you try to help you
When you really don't want me to
She was lying awake in bed, rebuking herself for her foolishness, when she heard the door open, then slam. She could hear his footsteps hard against the tile. And as she listened, she heard the house elves yelp, and the sound of them running from him. There was silence, and then there was the sound of another door slamming.
Pulling back the covers reluctantly, she set her feet on the cold floor. Not even bothering to put her robe on, she made her way out of the room, and descended down into the darkness of the first floor. There was a soft glow coming from his office. She paused in front of the door, contemplating just going back to bed.
She put her hand on the doorknob, nearly jumping at how cold it was, then turned it. The door swung open slowly as she pushed it, peering in.
He was in a heap by the fire. Without a thought toward their argument, she rushed over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder. He looked up at her, through bloodshot eyes, and she softly ran her hand up and down his back. He was drunk, yes, but there was something else there, something she had never seen before.
"I'm sorry." She whispered.
He didn't answer her, just turned and stared into the fire. She just kept running her hand up and down his back, trying to comfort him.
Without warning, he shoved her off him. She hit the floor next to them, sliding a little, as he stood up and glared down at her. "You ungrateful little bitch."
He left her there, walking out of the room. She listened, carefully, until she heard the front door slam, then she let the tears fall.
You go back to the women who will dance the dance
You go back to your friends who will lick your ass
You go back to ignoring all the rest of us
You go back to the center of your universe
He had been gone for three days. She had ignored it the first day, worried the second day, and today, she was downright livid. She had stood up to him, and he had just disappeared. He had a responsibility to the house, and to society.
She knew what he was doing. He was off screwing any woman who was willing. He was drinking with his friends. He was sinking back into a torpor that all Death Eaters suffered, although he wasn't a death eater.
He hadn't sent her message. He hadn't even acknowledged that she was at home waiting for him.
She dropped the grocery list onto the counter, angrily. Let the house elves take care of it for once. She was not in the mood.
Dear self-centered boy I don't know why I still feel affected by you
I've never lasted very long with someone like you
I never did although I have to admit I wanted toHe slipped into her bedroom that night giving her sloppily viscous kisses that caused her pain. She kissed him back only in attempt to ease the pain he was causing, without much success. And as he stripped himself of his clothes, and her of her own, she stared up at him incredulously, wondering how she had put up with him for so long.
He ran his fingers down from her shoulders to her kneecaps, and she shivered in delight, remembering now. Because she loved him. That was why. He still moved her, even as he was killing her from the inside out.
Dear magnetic boy you've never been with anyone who doesn't take your shit
You've never been with anyone who's dared to call you on it
I wonder how you'd be if someone were to call you on it
She sighed as he fell asleep next to her. They had been married for five years, and they had only slept in the same bed twice. On their wedding night, and now. She turned to her side, looking at him, enjoying the chance to gaze at him without fear of retribution or him leaving.
He appeared so innocent, so harmless. So perfect. But she knew the truth. That he was far from that. She had always sugar coated things for herself, but there was no denying that he was far from innocent.
Reaching out, carefully, so as not to wake him, she pushed a piece of hair from his face. Her fingers continued down, traveling down to his chin. His strong chin. She leaned over him carefully, kissing his lips as softly as possible. His lips moved against hers, softly, in a caress, sending shivers up her spine.
It was moments like this that made her stay with him. When he smiled at her, or when he brought her back something simple, something she enjoyed.
And she knew her friends, her brother, and her family would never understand it. But she knew she wouldn't be able to survive without him. He had grown on her, and moments like the one she was experiencing then gave her hope that she may someday grow on him.
And any talk of willingness
And any talk of both feet in
And any talk of commitment
Leaves you running for the door
She awoke with a start to find him sitting up, and awake. He had his boxers in his hand, but seemed a tad sluggish. She sat up as well, putting one slender hand on his arm.
"Please." She pleaded. "Stay. Just this once."
"Why? Why would I do that?" He answered.
"Just…give me a chance. Try to love me."
He laughed. "I'm not capable of love. You should know that by now."
"Would it kill you to try?" She asked.
He didn't reply. He just slipped his boxers on, and walked out of the room, not even noticing, or caring, that he had left the rest of his things strewn across the room. She stifled a cry, refusing to give in to the urge to just bawl, and lay back down, not even bothering getting dressed again.
Why why do I try to change you try to
Try to change you when you really don't want me to
That night, she knock door softly, nervously, his things folded and held across her chest with her other arm. She had never been permitted in his room before, though she had snuck in once in the early days of their marriage, laying on his bed and inhaling the scent of him.
There was no answer. Nervously, she opened the door, peering inside.
There was no sign of him. She set his things on his bed, noticing that it was still the same as it had been when she had been in the room before. A few things had changed though. His wardrobe was open, and there was a sizeable amount of clothes missing.
"He's gone again." She whispered to herself.
On the bed side table, she found a framed picture of his mother, who was standing rather still, and stiffly, smiling towards the camera, And in a much smaller frame next to it, a photo of her. Gasping, she placed a finger on the photo version of herself, watching as she grinned, giggled, waved, and winked.
It had been taken five years before. Before things got bad, and before Lucius had disappeared. She stared at it disbelieving. He kept a picture of her by his bed. She had pictures of him, of course, but they were on display downstairs. There were none in her room.
Sighing with hope, she lay on his bed, knowing that, for tonight at least, she could sleep in his bed.
You go back to the women who will dance the danceYou go back to your friends who will lick your ass
You go back to being so oblivious
You go back to the center of the universe