Ginny's emotions were fraught when she returned to the girls' dormitory.
She had kissed Malfoy. The egotistical fiend who had made a hell of her
best friends' lives.
It had been a mistake.
A huge mistake.
And it would not happen again. Under any circumstance. She could not get involved with. . . /that/. A Slytherin. Inconsiderate. Manwhore. One hundred percent, Grade A, bastard.
Well, not a complete bastard. He had become a lot easier to be around since Leah and Rachel were introduced to his life. There seemed to be a sense of duty regarding those children, which would not allow him to be as vindictive as he had been before. They had talked a lot in their time together - with the girls, without the girls - and he seemed to understand her a lot more.
What would her brothers have said if they had been here? she asked herself, sitting in the lounge by the fire in the empty common room. What would they have said had they known she had kissed Malfoy? Her friends?
Ron would have probably attacked Malfoy. Percy, knowing him, would have consulted Mr. Crouch after it became known his little sister had been involved with the "ill-repute." Fred would have just laughed and asked whether Malfoy's hair really was the last known oil slick in Britain. Hermione would have been diplomatic about the whole situation, blaming the kiss on Ginny's very brief bout with dementia.
And Harry. . . Harry would have silently shown his disapproval in a glance that would break her heart. Harry, whom she had adored for the last five years of her life. Harry, whose loss made her heart grieve with every breath. Malfoy had called him the savior of the wizarding world, and in a way, he had saved her too. He had given her purpose, and friendship, and an epicenter from which she could base her whole life.
She felt dirty, she felt dishonest, she felt a whole mess of emotions. She needed to get out of here, out of this part of the castle, out of Gryffindor - too many reminders of Harry and Ron playing chess in front of the fire and of Hermione sitting in this very chair, goading Ginny about whether she had studied. Too many memories of Percy lounging in the corner, composing his newest love letter to the beloved Miss Clearwater - and of the twins, with demonic smiles on their faces, plotting their takeover of Hogwarts.
Grabbing Harry's Invisibility Cloak, she ran out of the Gryffindor Tower, not sure where she was going, but knowing for damn sure that here was not where she belonged at the moment.
*****
Pacing the empty Great Hall - the only place he knew would provide the solitude he needed at the moment - Malfoy scowled as he replayed his moment of idiocy in his mind. He had been the one to make the move, he had fooled himself into thinking that she had felt something too, HE had hit on a Weasley. What on earth was going on? How on Earth had he gone from banging the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts to brooding over why Ginny Weasley (Ginny Weasley!) had rejected him? If everything were normal, his daughters would not be here, now, during his seventh year of Hogwarts. If this had been two months ago, he would have never even given a second thought to a Weasley. If, if, if. . .
And no matter how his deflated ego hurt, (if anyone ever found out about what he had done, he would be the laughingstock of Slytherin House), he could still not block the picture of Ginny sitting in the moonlight. He caught himself thinking like that and wondered whether someone had replaced his mind with Potter's when he was sleeping. Only Potter thought like that, only Potter had everyone's priorities above his own, only Potter. . . Damn Potter and his sensitive soul.
The truth of the matter was if only were he Potter would he then have Weasley.
He walked up and down the corridors, contemplating the situation at hand. Why did he care so much about Weasley? Because, really, she was not relationship material anyway. Not for a Malfoy. (And when did it go from pursuing a bed partner to pursuing a relationship?) She's poor, and stubborn, and inflexible. And not beautiful - not in the typical sense, but there are those moment when she curls her nose. . .
He found himself again going off on a tangent and chastised himself for a lack of self-control. It would have been one night anyway, even if anything had happened between them. One night. What Weasley could give him was not anything he could not run to Slytherin Tower and get from Pansy right now. So why was he so very disappointed?
He heard a sound from behind him in the Great Hall's corridor. 'Weird things happen to me in this place. I have GOT to stop leaving Slytherin in the middle of the night,' he thought deprecatingly, remembering how he had encountered his daughters here two months ago in the Dungeons. Drawing his wand from the fold of his robes, he shouted, "Reveal yourself!"
"We seriously have to stop meeting like this," Ginny whispered, removing the Invisibility Cloak from around her. Inwardly, Ginny was cursing herself for picking the Great Hall, which she figured would be empty, of all places to go to. She did not want to be seen, but had she not made herself known, Malfoy would have done some spell just because he had a /feeling/. Like Mad- Eye Moody, he was just that paranoid.
"Weasley?" he said, looking at her with daggers in his eyes.
"I needed to get out of Gryffindor. I thought I was the only person who knew how to get into the Great Hall after nightfall."
"I use the horizontal entrance from the kitchens. You?"
"Same. Learned it from Fred and George." Putting the Cloak down on a bench, she sat down. "Listen, about what happened earlier. . ."
"I will not apologize about what I said, Weasley," he said gruffly. "If you don't make a change, you will be waiting for Potter forever."
"So what can you offer me?" she asked.
"Offer you?" He looked confused "What do you mean? A marriage proposal before partaking in lunch at Hogsmeade?"
"I do not want to marry you, Malfoy, despite the fact that it may surprise you - but what I'm asking is why getting involved with you is a better alternative than grieving over the boy I have loved for the last five years?"
Pulling a strand of hair out of his face, he stared, aghast. "Are you kidding me? Other than that fact that I am a) breathing and b) interested in you, I can also do wonders for your reputation AND lavish you with gifts."
"But you're not Harry," she said softly, avoiding eye contact, examining her robes as if they were suddenly the most fascinating things in the free world.
"And believe it or not, I thank the gods nightly that I was not born a Potter. I just don't think the title of martyr, or the unkempt hair, would have suited me - just between you and me."
"This isn't a joke!" she rebuked. He sat next to her on the bench.
"I know it's not, Weasley, but this is the way I look at the situation. Your brothers, Granger, Potter are not coming back from the grave for you, and you need to get over it - Potter especially. You've spent far too long languishing over his memory. I think I could suitably assist you in a return to the world of the living."
Ginny contemplated his words for a few moments. "You know you could potentially come out of this as nothing more than a transitional guy. I don't know if your ego could take it."
If she were going to make this drastic change in her life - leave Harry in the past - she needed to take Malfoy up on his offer. Besides, the proposal was not such a bad one. At best, he was offering to be a confidante, not unlike what they were to each other because of the girls. At worst, he was looking for something more than that. And no matter where he stood, she needed to throw herself wholeheartedly into it. Blind faith in a Malfoy was never an easy task, but she needed to try.
"It's a chance I am willing to take. You need time; I'm willing to give it you. All the time you need. Now, I am not saying that you need to forget about your loved ones, but perhaps you need to-" Draco attempted, but stopped when he saw the way she was looking at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Let's be done with it then," she said determinedly, getting up.
"What are you talking about? Be done with what?" he asked, thoroughly confused.
"You have pointedly decided that I need to space myself from my grief?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"And you have decided that you will be the one to help me with the task?"
"Yes."
"So let's just skip the formalities and jump into the obvious first step." Ginny was trembling inside, but the picture that Malfoy had described earlier - of a lonely woman still ruminating over her teenage love with no fulfillment in life - drove her on. He wants this, he wants this, she repeated over and over in her mind.
"And what is, pratel, the obvious firs-" The roles were reversed this time when Ginny kissed him. He stood there for a seconds, letting himself absorb the situation before backing away, holding his hands in front of him, pushing her away. "Wha-what are you doing?"
"This is the first step. A surefire way for me to figure out whether I can get over Harry."
"Surefire way?"
"The step, just in case it has not been made crystal clear, is that we get intimate. Convince yourself that it means nothing, just look at me as one of your hoards of flunkies looking for a piece of Malfoy, if it makes you happy. You, me, doing this-" her hands made a sweeping gesture, as if that conveyed the vitality of these actions- "it will give me some sort of proof of whether there is life after Harry. We /are/ using each other, Malfoy. That's the root of it all, so let's do it to be done with it."
She moved towards him again, making contact with his mouth, and he let himself be swept into it. This was all rather new to Malfoy - he was used to being the aggressor, the pursuer in his conquests. Her hands snaked down his body lightly, slightly afraid of the consequences of these actions. She closed her eyes when she felt him lose the tension in his shoulders. She could feel Harry enveloping her, feel him kissing her, and there was a certain comfort from this.
He began to disrobe her, slowly undoing the clasp in the back of her robes, his lips never leaving hers. "You're sure you want do this?" he asked, a centimeter from her mouth.
"I need to do this," she responded before tugging at his robes. He noticed that her eyes remained closed, a dreamy look on her face as her hands roamed up and down him.
He backed away again. "Open your eyes."
There was a moment of hesitation before she did as requested. She did not need to ask him why. He was not going to let her delude herself into thinking he was Potter.
"I. Am. Not. Potter. Tell me who I am," he instructed.
She looked at him pleadingly. "M. . .Malfoy, you're Draco Malfoy," she whispered.
Pulling her in again, he murmured, "You will keep your eyes open for the remainder of this," before his lips settled on her's again. "This will not be a night of what might be, this is going to be a night of what is."
It had been a mistake.
A huge mistake.
And it would not happen again. Under any circumstance. She could not get involved with. . . /that/. A Slytherin. Inconsiderate. Manwhore. One hundred percent, Grade A, bastard.
Well, not a complete bastard. He had become a lot easier to be around since Leah and Rachel were introduced to his life. There seemed to be a sense of duty regarding those children, which would not allow him to be as vindictive as he had been before. They had talked a lot in their time together - with the girls, without the girls - and he seemed to understand her a lot more.
What would her brothers have said if they had been here? she asked herself, sitting in the lounge by the fire in the empty common room. What would they have said had they known she had kissed Malfoy? Her friends?
Ron would have probably attacked Malfoy. Percy, knowing him, would have consulted Mr. Crouch after it became known his little sister had been involved with the "ill-repute." Fred would have just laughed and asked whether Malfoy's hair really was the last known oil slick in Britain. Hermione would have been diplomatic about the whole situation, blaming the kiss on Ginny's very brief bout with dementia.
And Harry. . . Harry would have silently shown his disapproval in a glance that would break her heart. Harry, whom she had adored for the last five years of her life. Harry, whose loss made her heart grieve with every breath. Malfoy had called him the savior of the wizarding world, and in a way, he had saved her too. He had given her purpose, and friendship, and an epicenter from which she could base her whole life.
She felt dirty, she felt dishonest, she felt a whole mess of emotions. She needed to get out of here, out of this part of the castle, out of Gryffindor - too many reminders of Harry and Ron playing chess in front of the fire and of Hermione sitting in this very chair, goading Ginny about whether she had studied. Too many memories of Percy lounging in the corner, composing his newest love letter to the beloved Miss Clearwater - and of the twins, with demonic smiles on their faces, plotting their takeover of Hogwarts.
Grabbing Harry's Invisibility Cloak, she ran out of the Gryffindor Tower, not sure where she was going, but knowing for damn sure that here was not where she belonged at the moment.
*****
Pacing the empty Great Hall - the only place he knew would provide the solitude he needed at the moment - Malfoy scowled as he replayed his moment of idiocy in his mind. He had been the one to make the move, he had fooled himself into thinking that she had felt something too, HE had hit on a Weasley. What on earth was going on? How on Earth had he gone from banging the most beautiful girls at Hogwarts to brooding over why Ginny Weasley (Ginny Weasley!) had rejected him? If everything were normal, his daughters would not be here, now, during his seventh year of Hogwarts. If this had been two months ago, he would have never even given a second thought to a Weasley. If, if, if. . .
And no matter how his deflated ego hurt, (if anyone ever found out about what he had done, he would be the laughingstock of Slytherin House), he could still not block the picture of Ginny sitting in the moonlight. He caught himself thinking like that and wondered whether someone had replaced his mind with Potter's when he was sleeping. Only Potter thought like that, only Potter had everyone's priorities above his own, only Potter. . . Damn Potter and his sensitive soul.
The truth of the matter was if only were he Potter would he then have Weasley.
He walked up and down the corridors, contemplating the situation at hand. Why did he care so much about Weasley? Because, really, she was not relationship material anyway. Not for a Malfoy. (And when did it go from pursuing a bed partner to pursuing a relationship?) She's poor, and stubborn, and inflexible. And not beautiful - not in the typical sense, but there are those moment when she curls her nose. . .
He found himself again going off on a tangent and chastised himself for a lack of self-control. It would have been one night anyway, even if anything had happened between them. One night. What Weasley could give him was not anything he could not run to Slytherin Tower and get from Pansy right now. So why was he so very disappointed?
He heard a sound from behind him in the Great Hall's corridor. 'Weird things happen to me in this place. I have GOT to stop leaving Slytherin in the middle of the night,' he thought deprecatingly, remembering how he had encountered his daughters here two months ago in the Dungeons. Drawing his wand from the fold of his robes, he shouted, "Reveal yourself!"
"We seriously have to stop meeting like this," Ginny whispered, removing the Invisibility Cloak from around her. Inwardly, Ginny was cursing herself for picking the Great Hall, which she figured would be empty, of all places to go to. She did not want to be seen, but had she not made herself known, Malfoy would have done some spell just because he had a /feeling/. Like Mad- Eye Moody, he was just that paranoid.
"Weasley?" he said, looking at her with daggers in his eyes.
"I needed to get out of Gryffindor. I thought I was the only person who knew how to get into the Great Hall after nightfall."
"I use the horizontal entrance from the kitchens. You?"
"Same. Learned it from Fred and George." Putting the Cloak down on a bench, she sat down. "Listen, about what happened earlier. . ."
"I will not apologize about what I said, Weasley," he said gruffly. "If you don't make a change, you will be waiting for Potter forever."
"So what can you offer me?" she asked.
"Offer you?" He looked confused "What do you mean? A marriage proposal before partaking in lunch at Hogsmeade?"
"I do not want to marry you, Malfoy, despite the fact that it may surprise you - but what I'm asking is why getting involved with you is a better alternative than grieving over the boy I have loved for the last five years?"
Pulling a strand of hair out of his face, he stared, aghast. "Are you kidding me? Other than that fact that I am a) breathing and b) interested in you, I can also do wonders for your reputation AND lavish you with gifts."
"But you're not Harry," she said softly, avoiding eye contact, examining her robes as if they were suddenly the most fascinating things in the free world.
"And believe it or not, I thank the gods nightly that I was not born a Potter. I just don't think the title of martyr, or the unkempt hair, would have suited me - just between you and me."
"This isn't a joke!" she rebuked. He sat next to her on the bench.
"I know it's not, Weasley, but this is the way I look at the situation. Your brothers, Granger, Potter are not coming back from the grave for you, and you need to get over it - Potter especially. You've spent far too long languishing over his memory. I think I could suitably assist you in a return to the world of the living."
Ginny contemplated his words for a few moments. "You know you could potentially come out of this as nothing more than a transitional guy. I don't know if your ego could take it."
If she were going to make this drastic change in her life - leave Harry in the past - she needed to take Malfoy up on his offer. Besides, the proposal was not such a bad one. At best, he was offering to be a confidante, not unlike what they were to each other because of the girls. At worst, he was looking for something more than that. And no matter where he stood, she needed to throw herself wholeheartedly into it. Blind faith in a Malfoy was never an easy task, but she needed to try.
"It's a chance I am willing to take. You need time; I'm willing to give it you. All the time you need. Now, I am not saying that you need to forget about your loved ones, but perhaps you need to-" Draco attempted, but stopped when he saw the way she was looking at him. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Let's be done with it then," she said determinedly, getting up.
"What are you talking about? Be done with what?" he asked, thoroughly confused.
"You have pointedly decided that I need to space myself from my grief?"
"Yeah, so what?"
"And you have decided that you will be the one to help me with the task?"
"Yes."
"So let's just skip the formalities and jump into the obvious first step." Ginny was trembling inside, but the picture that Malfoy had described earlier - of a lonely woman still ruminating over her teenage love with no fulfillment in life - drove her on. He wants this, he wants this, she repeated over and over in her mind.
"And what is, pratel, the obvious firs-" The roles were reversed this time when Ginny kissed him. He stood there for a seconds, letting himself absorb the situation before backing away, holding his hands in front of him, pushing her away. "Wha-what are you doing?"
"This is the first step. A surefire way for me to figure out whether I can get over Harry."
"Surefire way?"
"The step, just in case it has not been made crystal clear, is that we get intimate. Convince yourself that it means nothing, just look at me as one of your hoards of flunkies looking for a piece of Malfoy, if it makes you happy. You, me, doing this-" her hands made a sweeping gesture, as if that conveyed the vitality of these actions- "it will give me some sort of proof of whether there is life after Harry. We /are/ using each other, Malfoy. That's the root of it all, so let's do it to be done with it."
She moved towards him again, making contact with his mouth, and he let himself be swept into it. This was all rather new to Malfoy - he was used to being the aggressor, the pursuer in his conquests. Her hands snaked down his body lightly, slightly afraid of the consequences of these actions. She closed her eyes when she felt him lose the tension in his shoulders. She could feel Harry enveloping her, feel him kissing her, and there was a certain comfort from this.
He began to disrobe her, slowly undoing the clasp in the back of her robes, his lips never leaving hers. "You're sure you want do this?" he asked, a centimeter from her mouth.
"I need to do this," she responded before tugging at his robes. He noticed that her eyes remained closed, a dreamy look on her face as her hands roamed up and down him.
He backed away again. "Open your eyes."
There was a moment of hesitation before she did as requested. She did not need to ask him why. He was not going to let her delude herself into thinking he was Potter.
"I. Am. Not. Potter. Tell me who I am," he instructed.
She looked at him pleadingly. "M. . .Malfoy, you're Draco Malfoy," she whispered.
Pulling her in again, he murmured, "You will keep your eyes open for the remainder of this," before his lips settled on her's again. "This will not be a night of what might be, this is going to be a night of what is."