Draco Malfoy was an idiot.
At least, that's what he thought as he paced the Slytherin common room. "Idiot!" He muttered as he threw himself into one of the over-stuffed chairs and sighed.
All he could think about for the last three days was red hair and soulful brown eyes. Damn his weakness for helpless women! She had the ability to make him go from a icily stoic guy to a gaping ass. He even daydreamed about Ginny and what it would be like to date----
*STOP IT!* Draco yelled at himself. *Get a fucking grip, Malfoy. You just got to know the girl and you're already writing wedding invitations.* As he always did when he was frustrated, he dug into his bag and found his notebook, only to have a leather green book fall out with it with 'Virginia Elizabeth Weasley' stamped in gold on the back. He frowned and put his notebook on the end table and opened this book. He was assaulted by a hoard of color and form.
"Wow," He muttered as he looked through the book. It was a professional- grade sketchbook, that was for sure. He didn't know Ginny could draw this well.
He flipped through it, seeing pictures of her friends and family very accurately drawn with little captions at the bottom. (For example, there was a picture of Granger and Ginny's brother posing in what Draco thought was a gross public display of affection. He laughed as he read in Ginny's somewhat uneven writing, 'Geez. Do they ever come up for air?') He turned several more pages, reading the captions that went along with the sketches, delighted that he and Ginny shared the same sense of humor.
But when he got to the near back of the book, he saw a startling picture. It was of him. Not naked or anything, but it was still him. He was sitting in a chair, wearing his usual smirk, but the expression in his eyes was that his mind was elsewhere and he wasn't completely into the gesture of arrogance. The caption read, 'Draco's thinking about something. He always has this expression on his face when he thinks no one's watching. Sometimes, especially at times like this, I wish I could read his mind.'
Jesus. He closed the book. This was making him crazy.
Everything about Ginny drove him crazy. Her eyes, her smile, the way she had of putting things into perspective when she talked to him. And the funny thing was, she actually talked to him. No one else did, not like her. Ginny actually cared about what he had to say; he didn't get much of that often. Drake was not a very open person about his traumatic experiences, and especially not after his father---No.
He wasn't going to think about that. As he was thinking, he stared out the window at the snow on the windowsill. Only when the burning wood in the huge fireplace cracked, drawing him out of his thoughts, did he realize he was fingering the thin scars on the inside of his wrists. His suicide scars.
He was lying on the floor of the parlor. The knife was lying at his side. There was a river coming from his wrists. No, wait, that was blood. Suddenly, his mother came wandering into the room. "Draco? Where are---OH MY GOD! NO! DRACO! PLEASE WAKE UP!"
"Malfoy?---Draco? Hey, Draco. Draco."
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Draco jolted, realizing that he had his hands over his ears. He let go of his ears and looked up to see a nervous first year looking down at him.
"Are you okay?"
He snapped at his younger Housemate, "Of course I'm okay. Leave me alone." He hastily stood up, grabbed Ginny's book, his notebook and his bag, and stalked out of the room.
An hour later.
Ginny went into her bedroom, completely exhausted. She had been in another snowball fight (far away from the lake) and had gotten covered in about four inches of snow. She had taken a hot shower, changed clothes, and started getting tired. So she had trudged up the stairs to her room and was surprised to see Ares, Draco's eagle owl, perched on her bedpost. She and Draco had traded correspondence for a few weeks now, so she got used to seeing Ares. But now, she saw her sketchbook on her bed. She hadn't even realized that she had lost it. She had been so busy that she hadn't put any thought to drawing. She walked over to Ares and stoked his feathers. Ares puffed his chest out and hooted softly. She watched as the owl flew silently out the window. She turned to her sketchbook and picked it up. A piece of paper fell out. She picked it up and read it. It said,
'By the way, you have a definite talent for drawing. If you got some of it published, you could make a lot of money. I think you're very good. But you know, this never happened, so. -Draco'
She laughed, delighted he had remembered that she had said the same thing to him. She put the sketchbook on her nightstand and turned over. The last thing she thought before going to sleep was that she had fallen for a certain blonde-haired steely-eyed Slytherin.
At least, that's what he thought as he paced the Slytherin common room. "Idiot!" He muttered as he threw himself into one of the over-stuffed chairs and sighed.
All he could think about for the last three days was red hair and soulful brown eyes. Damn his weakness for helpless women! She had the ability to make him go from a icily stoic guy to a gaping ass. He even daydreamed about Ginny and what it would be like to date----
*STOP IT!* Draco yelled at himself. *Get a fucking grip, Malfoy. You just got to know the girl and you're already writing wedding invitations.* As he always did when he was frustrated, he dug into his bag and found his notebook, only to have a leather green book fall out with it with 'Virginia Elizabeth Weasley' stamped in gold on the back. He frowned and put his notebook on the end table and opened this book. He was assaulted by a hoard of color and form.
"Wow," He muttered as he looked through the book. It was a professional- grade sketchbook, that was for sure. He didn't know Ginny could draw this well.
He flipped through it, seeing pictures of her friends and family very accurately drawn with little captions at the bottom. (For example, there was a picture of Granger and Ginny's brother posing in what Draco thought was a gross public display of affection. He laughed as he read in Ginny's somewhat uneven writing, 'Geez. Do they ever come up for air?') He turned several more pages, reading the captions that went along with the sketches, delighted that he and Ginny shared the same sense of humor.
But when he got to the near back of the book, he saw a startling picture. It was of him. Not naked or anything, but it was still him. He was sitting in a chair, wearing his usual smirk, but the expression in his eyes was that his mind was elsewhere and he wasn't completely into the gesture of arrogance. The caption read, 'Draco's thinking about something. He always has this expression on his face when he thinks no one's watching. Sometimes, especially at times like this, I wish I could read his mind.'
Jesus. He closed the book. This was making him crazy.
Everything about Ginny drove him crazy. Her eyes, her smile, the way she had of putting things into perspective when she talked to him. And the funny thing was, she actually talked to him. No one else did, not like her. Ginny actually cared about what he had to say; he didn't get much of that often. Drake was not a very open person about his traumatic experiences, and especially not after his father---No.
He wasn't going to think about that. As he was thinking, he stared out the window at the snow on the windowsill. Only when the burning wood in the huge fireplace cracked, drawing him out of his thoughts, did he realize he was fingering the thin scars on the inside of his wrists. His suicide scars.
He was lying on the floor of the parlor. The knife was lying at his side. There was a river coming from his wrists. No, wait, that was blood. Suddenly, his mother came wandering into the room. "Draco? Where are---OH MY GOD! NO! DRACO! PLEASE WAKE UP!"
"Malfoy?---Draco? Hey, Draco. Draco."
Someone was shaking his shoulder. Draco jolted, realizing that he had his hands over his ears. He let go of his ears and looked up to see a nervous first year looking down at him.
"Are you okay?"
He snapped at his younger Housemate, "Of course I'm okay. Leave me alone." He hastily stood up, grabbed Ginny's book, his notebook and his bag, and stalked out of the room.
An hour later.
Ginny went into her bedroom, completely exhausted. She had been in another snowball fight (far away from the lake) and had gotten covered in about four inches of snow. She had taken a hot shower, changed clothes, and started getting tired. So she had trudged up the stairs to her room and was surprised to see Ares, Draco's eagle owl, perched on her bedpost. She and Draco had traded correspondence for a few weeks now, so she got used to seeing Ares. But now, she saw her sketchbook on her bed. She hadn't even realized that she had lost it. She had been so busy that she hadn't put any thought to drawing. She walked over to Ares and stoked his feathers. Ares puffed his chest out and hooted softly. She watched as the owl flew silently out the window. She turned to her sketchbook and picked it up. A piece of paper fell out. She picked it up and read it. It said,
'By the way, you have a definite talent for drawing. If you got some of it published, you could make a lot of money. I think you're very good. But you know, this never happened, so. -Draco'
She laughed, delighted he had remembered that she had said the same thing to him. She put the sketchbook on her nightstand and turned over. The last thing she thought before going to sleep was that she had fallen for a certain blonde-haired steely-eyed Slytherin.