Solitary Romance
By Jillian
(Disclaimer: Of course, I have no claim on the characters of Harry Potter & Co. I don't normally write HP fics, but, for my friend Rissah, I did indulge with this thread of short stories. This particular one is narrated by Ginny. Enjoy.)
***
Even though my toes were numb and my limbs felt soaked simply from sitting in the heavy mist, I never missed an opportunity to watch the soccer team practice.
Ron would come with me sometimes, sitting back in the bleachers so that his elbows rested on a row behind him for balance. He'd watch the team warm up and then skirmish a bit. Now and again the coach calling out to one player or another. Commending. Scolding.
I didn't really watch much of the practice itself. Usually going out with my sketchbook and doodling some outline for my art projects. Mom and Dad had been pretty understanding about the sudden switch from being a Political Science major to Art History/Studio. Well, they found understanding after I mentioned I could work in a museum. That seemed to be a satisfactory answer to give relatives when they asked what the youngest Weasley had in mind for her future.
After having so many older brothers, being the only daughter made them all a bit curious. No one knew quite what to make of me. I was small and rather invisible for years--then as a freshman speaking up with rather unpopular opinions, a collection of picketing signs and a brief phase of vegetarianism. Only to settle back again with dark rimmed glasses rather than contacts, a calmed philosophic spirit, and an incredible dislike of taking showers too often. College was great for finding one's self, not that everyone found their paths the same way.
I wiped the glasses off on the corner of my jacket sleeve. The periodic drizzle finally forced me to put away my art book and I had crawled into the visiting team's bench area to keep as dry as possible. And to watch.
Observation was something I picked up strongly. With six older brothers to tease and torture their beloved little sister, one learned to be a little wary. To fine-tune the senses. To know if it was Fred you were talking with and George that was sneaking up behind.
Or in more pleasant circumstances, one could observe the strong, limber movements of the soccer captain. One Harry Potter who would toss his wild dark hair so that droplets of water would spray outward. His grey practice uniform would cling to his square shoulders. Long, muscular thighs and calves. Because he was my brother's best friend, I had many opportunities to admire Harry up close, but I still liked to watch him while he was unaware, especially in some friendly physical conflict. I watched from on the stands, below the stands, behind the field fence, or in the soccer field dugout.
Most of the other boys had grabbed their gear and headed back to the campus or their own rooms. The practice field was a good block from the academic buildings and part way to the campus apartments. I stopped as often as I did because the field just happened to be on my way home from class. Too convenient.
The grey mist carried on the chill wind like tiny kisses. My hair sticking to my cheek, and I pushed it back, still leaning against the pole supporting the makeshift roof over my head. The atmosphere was thin grey like the clouds that had overshadowed the entire practice. Harry also had seemed a bit grey chasing after the wayward ball with his unique jog (like he had a coiled spring in his heels--an untapped energy vibrating from him). He was alone on the field in a moment. Fred and George leaving their captain only after giving him a teasing chase and affectionate batting on each shoulder.
I stepped out to speak with Harry, but no sooner had I put one foot forward- -I saw I wasn't the only person watching Harry.
Taking the step back and sliding further into the shadows, I found my breath quickening a bit. I hadn't thought about *him* in months, but even then, whenever I might have caught a glimpse of him in the library or driving around campus in that spoiled-boy car of his-Draco Malfoy still unsettled me.
I glanced toward Harry who was casually dribbling the ball up and down the field, but my thoughts were whirling around the pale blond who was just feet away and around the corner of the shelter's far wall.
***
Obligated to go to a social gathering because of my father's job, I had decided rather than throwing a tantrum that I would invite a date so irritating to my family that they'd never make me go again. I had known exactly who to ask and felt no reservations for using him in that way. In fact, I had been looking for the excuse.
Every rebellious girl wanted an equal partner. The obvious choice, Draco Malfoy.
He had been in my brother's class and, more than most loners, Draco was naturally magnetic. Aloof, well-dressed, intelligent and rich. On top of that, he frequently attended meetings for the community service oriented fraternities, and I'd seen him recycle more than once--those of course being his most enticing attributes to me, right after his elegant eyebrows, rare but haughty smile and fabulous ass in tight jeans. The same jeans he had been wearing while hosting one of the many national debates on our campus. He knew on many levels how to attract a crowd. Quite the rebel, I knew not only the reputation of Draco but also the animosity between our fathers could only spur my desired response.
And there was the wee fact that I didn't half mind and rather fancied Draco himself.
Even as I stared out into the grey field, I could still remember the image of Draco burned into my eyes the exact moment I saw him. Blond hair pale enough, but almost like sunshine in contrast to the late afternoon shades of grey. An expensive coat cut long so that his legs appeared as two slender, jeans clad stems rooted with dark boots. But while his attire was characteristic to Draco, I was a bit perplexed by his posture. He had been leaning. Watching, not unlike myself. Steadily absorbing the view of the practice field. And Harry Potter.
My heart fluttered a bit, almost unnoticed while my thoughts raced to appropriately discern Draco's presence. Curious if it had to do with the reason why my interest and the interest of any female was unable to catch the attention of Draco Malfoy.
His words echoed into my memory like the sound of thunder from a far off storm. "I. Don't. Like. Girls."
That day I was a smart girl. I settled for Draco's hard won approval and withdrew my desire to capture something else, like Draco's heart. Immediately afterward, I re-evaluated my life and found my own self- assurance lacking. That's when I started living for myself. Taking classes that genuinely interested me. Doing what I really wanted to do. Coupling my uniqueness with my inherent Weasley-ness. That was when I wondered if I might find a better match in something opposite from Draco. In a decent, ordinary fellow. Someone like Harry Potter.
Harry Potter who had stopped moving, one foot balanced without care on the checkered ball. Even at the distance, I knew his eyes weren't on me. He hadn't seen me at all.
"Well," Harry called, sounding amiable enough with a brisk touch of challenge, "Are you going to come play or just watch?"
I had a funny feeling like my lungs were breathing out a response but my throat caught it back, just as my ears picked up on a long unheard drawl replying, while Draco walked out to meet him.
"Only if you're ready to lose, Potter."
***
Harry pushed the ball forward to greet Draco, who caught it nimbly with his designer shoe. Draco's dark form a sophisticated contrast to Harry's sweat soaked grey T-shirt and faded dark red shorts. Snatches of their conversation rocketed back to me on the wind that was picking up sharply. The previously imagined thunder while still distant rolled in with more ominous certainty.
" . . . don't mind . . . getting dirty . . ." Harry's final comments before their words were too soft to hear. I wrapped my hands against the sides of the pole in the entryway to the shelter. Hiding behind it, using it to support me, but letting my eyes slip around to one side. Observing.
They were immediately and completely fixated on each other.
I watched them jog around each other and pass the ball with a peculiar consideration for sharing. Polite, subtly nervous body language. I decided that as obvious as it was I hadn't taken in the full meaning of Draco's admission to me that night. While in one form negative, the positive might also be true.
"I. Like. Boys."
Fred and George had cautioned me first. After announcing that I was seeing Draco Malfoy and he was my date for the following banquet, the twins had sputtered and coughed about "switched teams" and "not-bloody-likeliness." Ron had managed to set off a few of his own fireworks about Draco's sexuality; although, I wouldn't imagine his were as well-informed as meant to be insulting. My parents had managed to share a disapproving-or rather disappointed--look, but, long ago, they had adopted the policy that they would love their children through anything. I suppose they wouldn't have given me any different reaction if I had said I was going to the banquet with Blaise Zambini.
But Harry? That was a bit of a surprise. Harry didn't seem Draco's sort.
But then again, who wouldn't be enchanted with Harry? The oaf was fully worthy of being gawked at, I did it often enough. His physique stunning in even the hideous wardrobe that Harry boyishly refused to replace after high school. His hair curling out at the ends and around his neck.
Lost in thought, I missed the transition, but Harry's footwork turned aggressive. He usually played a defensive spot during the games. His defense succeeding because he had no hesitation about spiriting away the ball with his quick reflexes and putting his team back into the position to score. His hand reached out just then, grasping onto Draco's coat sleeve.
Foul, I thought. Although, without a referee to harness their play, Harry didn't let go.
They pulled apart, Draco putting on a burst of speed and heading toward the near goal. I could see the spread of his lips as they came back my direction, and, with a start, I realized Draco was smiling.
Harry caught up immediately, his footing better on the turf. Nevertheless, his desperate attempt to win back the ball ended in a tangle of legs. Then both went down into the mud. Draco's expensive coat sandwiched between Harry and the earth, obviously splattered with much light brown topsoil. The sight of which bothered me more than what happened next.
They were breathing with open mouths, seemingly winded. When Harry wrapped his hand behind Draco's neck, pushing forward to take a very long kiss.
***
Some moments catch us off guard and we're never able to see the world the same way again. It happened when I realized that my parents still had sex. It happened again when I realized that most causes had some legitimate point even when they were in disagreement with my own. It happened when most admirable Hermione Granger told me that she loved my darling but idiot brother. It happened when one of my peas fell off my plate and had attached itself to a bit of carpet fuzz before I picked it up again.
Ever since that dreary day after watching Harry briefly grope, caress and kiss Draco Malfoy, I watched them both with incredible curiosity. No one knew. No one could know. They wouldn't allow it.
But I knew.
Harry had leaned back on his knees, still straddling Draco who looked rosy but agitated against the damp grass and mud. The hand Harry had offered balanced out with an aura of obligation, the moment between them passed and the supporting pull hadn't carried the slightest delicacy of consideration. A distance grew afterward, Draco pulling off his coat and examining it with a nasally whine followed by some arrogantly lilted complaint. Harry shrugged, waving Draco along without looking to see if he'd follow. Draco hesitating a moment and I saw them walk as far as the gateway out of the practice field. Draco followed roughly ten feet behind the entire way. Even though, they had seemed friendlier while they were having their playful soccer competition.
One day later, wandering through the halls of the English building on the way to a random philosophy class abandoned there, I had seen Draco lounged in one of the cushioned chairs, his feet propped up on the sill of the window. The early winter sunshine falling onto him with a contrasting glow of warmth. He didn't even look up as I passed, he was so absorbed in the text. His chin tucked in and his lips casually pursed. Most always when I saw him, he was alone like that. Occupied, at ease, and thereby not lacking company. Still, alone.
I continued toward the stairwell. Upon which I passed Harry, who grinned at me with his lopsided way and mobile thin lips.
"Hiya, Ginny." His tone no different than the brotherly affection oozed by any one of my siblings. But the indifference didn't bother me any longer.
"Hi, Harry." I nodded, not certain if I had anything more to say to him. Not being the biggest conversationalist, I liked to intuit situations from observation, the movement of the his lips rather than the words, the movement of his arms indicating comfort or hurry, the shift of his weight moving forward or back. I pushed my glasses back up my nose while pulling the loose strands of my hair behind my ear. Harry subconsciously mimicked me pushing up on his own glasses. He was distracted, his tongue just noticeably tracing his upper teeth.
I wondered if he knew who he would find sitting in the sunlight if he followed up the next few steps.
If he did, that probably was also the reason why Harry was alone just then.
Harry had his own magnetism, so he naturally drew people to him, loyally bonded with them, and kept them. My brother, Ron, was the perfect example of someone enchanted by Harry Potter. Likewise, Harry depended on the attention and presence of others-whether by playing soccer or otherwise like choosing his major because Ron had, taking his classes because Ron did, picking his friends because Ron had.
Now I've seen Harry alone on multiple occasions . . . no, not alone. Seeking out, watching for, waiting with, stealing kisses from-Draco Malfoy. A new, different codependency for Harry. Perhaps the first thing that Harry had sought out, pursued, all by himself.
Harry skipped the last steps onto the landing and I heard a low murmur from Harry's throat. A moment later, I should have been at the bottom of the stairs. Instead, through the railing and even at my low angle, I turned and was able to see a pale hand reach up and grasp Harry's scarf, pulling the dark head out of sight behind the high backed chair.
***
The stars were out inspiring a naivety in my spirit, and I was foolishly walking alone across campus in the evening. Head back, ogling Orion's belt and trying to find the Big Dipper. Brisk air filtered in and out of my lungs in deep breaths, so I didn't hear him until Draco was right next to me.
"Cute, Virginia," He chuckled. I set my head back normally, shifting my heavy book bag, so that I could watch him properly. I liked how he used my full name. From our first meeting, Draco chose to call me by my proper name and still managed to convey his own unique affection in the infrequently used syllables. "Some talent you have walking straight with your head in the sky. Learn that from Potter?"
I blinked, the direction of Draco's conversation obvious. He matched my slower pace, hands in the pockets of a different designer coat than the one he'd worn to play soccer. I noticed that walking on my left side, he'd blocked a bit of the evening wind, "Hello, Draco." I said simply.
In profile, his lips pull back in a mirthless smile, "It's not safe to walk out here on your own. You know that."
"You're right." I nodded, something he could only see in peripheral. I was struck by his sudden shyness. Remembering how he only practiced silence in his solitude, always having something witty to say before. I invited him to speak, "I suppose I'm used to walking around on my own at home that I don't think about it here." A pause, then, I laughed softly, "I can't stand the campus shuttle."
"There's the truth," Draco said with a tone of disapproval and turned to me, his face half shadow with the arches of his forehead and jaw highlighted now and again by the streetlights we passed.
When Draco agreed to accompany me to the banquet, we had caused quite a stir. We talked loudly at the appetizer's table, telling rather crude jokes and sophisticatedly disrespecting out elders. He must have known why I had invited him of all people to come with me. Both of us fueled the other's inner desire to cause a scene, and succeeded marvelously, outshining even the disruptive twins. I had loved that feeling; so different from what they expected Ginny Weasley to be like. In turn, so different from the real Ginny Weasley. So different from the real us.
I'm the girl who doesn't say anything and walks alone on campus with her eyes on the stars.
And if that's who I am. Then Draco might have a true gentleness hidden as well.
We passed the practice field, and I glanced over to where the lights had been switched on to flood the area with unnatural brightness. I easily spotted the red-heads of my twin brothers. Somewhere in the tangle was the captain, the person that Draco found so alluring.
"I suppose you're wanting to stop off here." I said pointedly.
"Not unless there's someone you're interested in."
While I don't sense any rivalry in him, I wondered if he knew that I once had watched Harry like he did.
"Not me." I said, emphasizing the pronoun. The next words came from my lips in a whisper. "I know." I wanted him to know his secret didn't have to be a solitary one.
"And what's that make you?" His drawl a way of building personal defenses, "My secret keeper? I should make sure you get home safely then." Sarcasm light but present.
However, I saw relief relax his shoulders. His arms started swinging by his sides comfortably. His pace, while polite, brightened. The corners of his lips stopped sloping downward, as he spoke again,
"I can always stop by on my way back."
While that finalized our understanding, no one else, to my knowledge, would know about his affection. No one else would observe any difference in Draco Malfoy. Who else would believe this?
Now and again, on my way to philosophy class in the English building, Draco will look up from his studying place in that high backed chair as I pass him and he winks.
By Jillian
(Disclaimer: Of course, I have no claim on the characters of Harry Potter & Co. I don't normally write HP fics, but, for my friend Rissah, I did indulge with this thread of short stories. This particular one is narrated by Ginny. Enjoy.)
***
Even though my toes were numb and my limbs felt soaked simply from sitting in the heavy mist, I never missed an opportunity to watch the soccer team practice.
Ron would come with me sometimes, sitting back in the bleachers so that his elbows rested on a row behind him for balance. He'd watch the team warm up and then skirmish a bit. Now and again the coach calling out to one player or another. Commending. Scolding.
I didn't really watch much of the practice itself. Usually going out with my sketchbook and doodling some outline for my art projects. Mom and Dad had been pretty understanding about the sudden switch from being a Political Science major to Art History/Studio. Well, they found understanding after I mentioned I could work in a museum. That seemed to be a satisfactory answer to give relatives when they asked what the youngest Weasley had in mind for her future.
After having so many older brothers, being the only daughter made them all a bit curious. No one knew quite what to make of me. I was small and rather invisible for years--then as a freshman speaking up with rather unpopular opinions, a collection of picketing signs and a brief phase of vegetarianism. Only to settle back again with dark rimmed glasses rather than contacts, a calmed philosophic spirit, and an incredible dislike of taking showers too often. College was great for finding one's self, not that everyone found their paths the same way.
I wiped the glasses off on the corner of my jacket sleeve. The periodic drizzle finally forced me to put away my art book and I had crawled into the visiting team's bench area to keep as dry as possible. And to watch.
Observation was something I picked up strongly. With six older brothers to tease and torture their beloved little sister, one learned to be a little wary. To fine-tune the senses. To know if it was Fred you were talking with and George that was sneaking up behind.
Or in more pleasant circumstances, one could observe the strong, limber movements of the soccer captain. One Harry Potter who would toss his wild dark hair so that droplets of water would spray outward. His grey practice uniform would cling to his square shoulders. Long, muscular thighs and calves. Because he was my brother's best friend, I had many opportunities to admire Harry up close, but I still liked to watch him while he was unaware, especially in some friendly physical conflict. I watched from on the stands, below the stands, behind the field fence, or in the soccer field dugout.
Most of the other boys had grabbed their gear and headed back to the campus or their own rooms. The practice field was a good block from the academic buildings and part way to the campus apartments. I stopped as often as I did because the field just happened to be on my way home from class. Too convenient.
The grey mist carried on the chill wind like tiny kisses. My hair sticking to my cheek, and I pushed it back, still leaning against the pole supporting the makeshift roof over my head. The atmosphere was thin grey like the clouds that had overshadowed the entire practice. Harry also had seemed a bit grey chasing after the wayward ball with his unique jog (like he had a coiled spring in his heels--an untapped energy vibrating from him). He was alone on the field in a moment. Fred and George leaving their captain only after giving him a teasing chase and affectionate batting on each shoulder.
I stepped out to speak with Harry, but no sooner had I put one foot forward- -I saw I wasn't the only person watching Harry.
Taking the step back and sliding further into the shadows, I found my breath quickening a bit. I hadn't thought about *him* in months, but even then, whenever I might have caught a glimpse of him in the library or driving around campus in that spoiled-boy car of his-Draco Malfoy still unsettled me.
I glanced toward Harry who was casually dribbling the ball up and down the field, but my thoughts were whirling around the pale blond who was just feet away and around the corner of the shelter's far wall.
***
Obligated to go to a social gathering because of my father's job, I had decided rather than throwing a tantrum that I would invite a date so irritating to my family that they'd never make me go again. I had known exactly who to ask and felt no reservations for using him in that way. In fact, I had been looking for the excuse.
Every rebellious girl wanted an equal partner. The obvious choice, Draco Malfoy.
He had been in my brother's class and, more than most loners, Draco was naturally magnetic. Aloof, well-dressed, intelligent and rich. On top of that, he frequently attended meetings for the community service oriented fraternities, and I'd seen him recycle more than once--those of course being his most enticing attributes to me, right after his elegant eyebrows, rare but haughty smile and fabulous ass in tight jeans. The same jeans he had been wearing while hosting one of the many national debates on our campus. He knew on many levels how to attract a crowd. Quite the rebel, I knew not only the reputation of Draco but also the animosity between our fathers could only spur my desired response.
And there was the wee fact that I didn't half mind and rather fancied Draco himself.
Even as I stared out into the grey field, I could still remember the image of Draco burned into my eyes the exact moment I saw him. Blond hair pale enough, but almost like sunshine in contrast to the late afternoon shades of grey. An expensive coat cut long so that his legs appeared as two slender, jeans clad stems rooted with dark boots. But while his attire was characteristic to Draco, I was a bit perplexed by his posture. He had been leaning. Watching, not unlike myself. Steadily absorbing the view of the practice field. And Harry Potter.
My heart fluttered a bit, almost unnoticed while my thoughts raced to appropriately discern Draco's presence. Curious if it had to do with the reason why my interest and the interest of any female was unable to catch the attention of Draco Malfoy.
His words echoed into my memory like the sound of thunder from a far off storm. "I. Don't. Like. Girls."
That day I was a smart girl. I settled for Draco's hard won approval and withdrew my desire to capture something else, like Draco's heart. Immediately afterward, I re-evaluated my life and found my own self- assurance lacking. That's when I started living for myself. Taking classes that genuinely interested me. Doing what I really wanted to do. Coupling my uniqueness with my inherent Weasley-ness. That was when I wondered if I might find a better match in something opposite from Draco. In a decent, ordinary fellow. Someone like Harry Potter.
Harry Potter who had stopped moving, one foot balanced without care on the checkered ball. Even at the distance, I knew his eyes weren't on me. He hadn't seen me at all.
"Well," Harry called, sounding amiable enough with a brisk touch of challenge, "Are you going to come play or just watch?"
I had a funny feeling like my lungs were breathing out a response but my throat caught it back, just as my ears picked up on a long unheard drawl replying, while Draco walked out to meet him.
"Only if you're ready to lose, Potter."
***
Harry pushed the ball forward to greet Draco, who caught it nimbly with his designer shoe. Draco's dark form a sophisticated contrast to Harry's sweat soaked grey T-shirt and faded dark red shorts. Snatches of their conversation rocketed back to me on the wind that was picking up sharply. The previously imagined thunder while still distant rolled in with more ominous certainty.
" . . . don't mind . . . getting dirty . . ." Harry's final comments before their words were too soft to hear. I wrapped my hands against the sides of the pole in the entryway to the shelter. Hiding behind it, using it to support me, but letting my eyes slip around to one side. Observing.
They were immediately and completely fixated on each other.
I watched them jog around each other and pass the ball with a peculiar consideration for sharing. Polite, subtly nervous body language. I decided that as obvious as it was I hadn't taken in the full meaning of Draco's admission to me that night. While in one form negative, the positive might also be true.
"I. Like. Boys."
Fred and George had cautioned me first. After announcing that I was seeing Draco Malfoy and he was my date for the following banquet, the twins had sputtered and coughed about "switched teams" and "not-bloody-likeliness." Ron had managed to set off a few of his own fireworks about Draco's sexuality; although, I wouldn't imagine his were as well-informed as meant to be insulting. My parents had managed to share a disapproving-or rather disappointed--look, but, long ago, they had adopted the policy that they would love their children through anything. I suppose they wouldn't have given me any different reaction if I had said I was going to the banquet with Blaise Zambini.
But Harry? That was a bit of a surprise. Harry didn't seem Draco's sort.
But then again, who wouldn't be enchanted with Harry? The oaf was fully worthy of being gawked at, I did it often enough. His physique stunning in even the hideous wardrobe that Harry boyishly refused to replace after high school. His hair curling out at the ends and around his neck.
Lost in thought, I missed the transition, but Harry's footwork turned aggressive. He usually played a defensive spot during the games. His defense succeeding because he had no hesitation about spiriting away the ball with his quick reflexes and putting his team back into the position to score. His hand reached out just then, grasping onto Draco's coat sleeve.
Foul, I thought. Although, without a referee to harness their play, Harry didn't let go.
They pulled apart, Draco putting on a burst of speed and heading toward the near goal. I could see the spread of his lips as they came back my direction, and, with a start, I realized Draco was smiling.
Harry caught up immediately, his footing better on the turf. Nevertheless, his desperate attempt to win back the ball ended in a tangle of legs. Then both went down into the mud. Draco's expensive coat sandwiched between Harry and the earth, obviously splattered with much light brown topsoil. The sight of which bothered me more than what happened next.
They were breathing with open mouths, seemingly winded. When Harry wrapped his hand behind Draco's neck, pushing forward to take a very long kiss.
***
Some moments catch us off guard and we're never able to see the world the same way again. It happened when I realized that my parents still had sex. It happened again when I realized that most causes had some legitimate point even when they were in disagreement with my own. It happened when most admirable Hermione Granger told me that she loved my darling but idiot brother. It happened when one of my peas fell off my plate and had attached itself to a bit of carpet fuzz before I picked it up again.
Ever since that dreary day after watching Harry briefly grope, caress and kiss Draco Malfoy, I watched them both with incredible curiosity. No one knew. No one could know. They wouldn't allow it.
But I knew.
Harry had leaned back on his knees, still straddling Draco who looked rosy but agitated against the damp grass and mud. The hand Harry had offered balanced out with an aura of obligation, the moment between them passed and the supporting pull hadn't carried the slightest delicacy of consideration. A distance grew afterward, Draco pulling off his coat and examining it with a nasally whine followed by some arrogantly lilted complaint. Harry shrugged, waving Draco along without looking to see if he'd follow. Draco hesitating a moment and I saw them walk as far as the gateway out of the practice field. Draco followed roughly ten feet behind the entire way. Even though, they had seemed friendlier while they were having their playful soccer competition.
One day later, wandering through the halls of the English building on the way to a random philosophy class abandoned there, I had seen Draco lounged in one of the cushioned chairs, his feet propped up on the sill of the window. The early winter sunshine falling onto him with a contrasting glow of warmth. He didn't even look up as I passed, he was so absorbed in the text. His chin tucked in and his lips casually pursed. Most always when I saw him, he was alone like that. Occupied, at ease, and thereby not lacking company. Still, alone.
I continued toward the stairwell. Upon which I passed Harry, who grinned at me with his lopsided way and mobile thin lips.
"Hiya, Ginny." His tone no different than the brotherly affection oozed by any one of my siblings. But the indifference didn't bother me any longer.
"Hi, Harry." I nodded, not certain if I had anything more to say to him. Not being the biggest conversationalist, I liked to intuit situations from observation, the movement of the his lips rather than the words, the movement of his arms indicating comfort or hurry, the shift of his weight moving forward or back. I pushed my glasses back up my nose while pulling the loose strands of my hair behind my ear. Harry subconsciously mimicked me pushing up on his own glasses. He was distracted, his tongue just noticeably tracing his upper teeth.
I wondered if he knew who he would find sitting in the sunlight if he followed up the next few steps.
If he did, that probably was also the reason why Harry was alone just then.
Harry had his own magnetism, so he naturally drew people to him, loyally bonded with them, and kept them. My brother, Ron, was the perfect example of someone enchanted by Harry Potter. Likewise, Harry depended on the attention and presence of others-whether by playing soccer or otherwise like choosing his major because Ron had, taking his classes because Ron did, picking his friends because Ron had.
Now I've seen Harry alone on multiple occasions . . . no, not alone. Seeking out, watching for, waiting with, stealing kisses from-Draco Malfoy. A new, different codependency for Harry. Perhaps the first thing that Harry had sought out, pursued, all by himself.
Harry skipped the last steps onto the landing and I heard a low murmur from Harry's throat. A moment later, I should have been at the bottom of the stairs. Instead, through the railing and even at my low angle, I turned and was able to see a pale hand reach up and grasp Harry's scarf, pulling the dark head out of sight behind the high backed chair.
***
The stars were out inspiring a naivety in my spirit, and I was foolishly walking alone across campus in the evening. Head back, ogling Orion's belt and trying to find the Big Dipper. Brisk air filtered in and out of my lungs in deep breaths, so I didn't hear him until Draco was right next to me.
"Cute, Virginia," He chuckled. I set my head back normally, shifting my heavy book bag, so that I could watch him properly. I liked how he used my full name. From our first meeting, Draco chose to call me by my proper name and still managed to convey his own unique affection in the infrequently used syllables. "Some talent you have walking straight with your head in the sky. Learn that from Potter?"
I blinked, the direction of Draco's conversation obvious. He matched my slower pace, hands in the pockets of a different designer coat than the one he'd worn to play soccer. I noticed that walking on my left side, he'd blocked a bit of the evening wind, "Hello, Draco." I said simply.
In profile, his lips pull back in a mirthless smile, "It's not safe to walk out here on your own. You know that."
"You're right." I nodded, something he could only see in peripheral. I was struck by his sudden shyness. Remembering how he only practiced silence in his solitude, always having something witty to say before. I invited him to speak, "I suppose I'm used to walking around on my own at home that I don't think about it here." A pause, then, I laughed softly, "I can't stand the campus shuttle."
"There's the truth," Draco said with a tone of disapproval and turned to me, his face half shadow with the arches of his forehead and jaw highlighted now and again by the streetlights we passed.
When Draco agreed to accompany me to the banquet, we had caused quite a stir. We talked loudly at the appetizer's table, telling rather crude jokes and sophisticatedly disrespecting out elders. He must have known why I had invited him of all people to come with me. Both of us fueled the other's inner desire to cause a scene, and succeeded marvelously, outshining even the disruptive twins. I had loved that feeling; so different from what they expected Ginny Weasley to be like. In turn, so different from the real Ginny Weasley. So different from the real us.
I'm the girl who doesn't say anything and walks alone on campus with her eyes on the stars.
And if that's who I am. Then Draco might have a true gentleness hidden as well.
We passed the practice field, and I glanced over to where the lights had been switched on to flood the area with unnatural brightness. I easily spotted the red-heads of my twin brothers. Somewhere in the tangle was the captain, the person that Draco found so alluring.
"I suppose you're wanting to stop off here." I said pointedly.
"Not unless there's someone you're interested in."
While I don't sense any rivalry in him, I wondered if he knew that I once had watched Harry like he did.
"Not me." I said, emphasizing the pronoun. The next words came from my lips in a whisper. "I know." I wanted him to know his secret didn't have to be a solitary one.
"And what's that make you?" His drawl a way of building personal defenses, "My secret keeper? I should make sure you get home safely then." Sarcasm light but present.
However, I saw relief relax his shoulders. His arms started swinging by his sides comfortably. His pace, while polite, brightened. The corners of his lips stopped sloping downward, as he spoke again,
"I can always stop by on my way back."
While that finalized our understanding, no one else, to my knowledge, would know about his affection. No one else would observe any difference in Draco Malfoy. Who else would believe this?
Now and again, on my way to philosophy class in the English building, Draco will look up from his studying place in that high backed chair as I pass him and he winks.