Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or other associated stuff. And I'm definetaly not making any money off of this. Unless there's something I should know about . . .?
Thank you for all the reviews, everyone! If I could I'd send all of you a huge smiley face balloon!
By the way, this is short and will be in majority about Draco since he's going to have a bit of an epiphany. Ch. 5 will be more about Harry and Hermione. Really!
And what's up with ch.3? They didn't add it to the word count on FanFiction.net!!!! I mean, I have exactly 22,450 words or something and its only showing up 15,000 of them. D'oh! People will think I didn't write much!
Oh and experienced authors out there! I keep trying to make italics, bold print, font, or font size to work from Microsoft Word (97 version) to download into the story! I am at a breaking point! It's so annoying!
Chapter 4
Ron took a large spoonful of cake into his mouth and then closed his eyes. Hermione wondered if the cake had killed him. "Ron?" She asked, nervously. Ron's eyes shot open and he grinned broadly.
" I'm savoring it, Hermione."
" It's good?" She asked.
" If it wouldn't be, I wouldn't be smiling, would I?" Ron then looked at Harry. "Right, Harry? It's delicious."
Harry nodded. " The best cake I've ever eaten, in fact."
" You guys are just being nice." Hermione protested. Then, she tasted the cake herself. Her attitude changed suddenly. " Hey! I finally cooked something! And it's not disgusting!"
Fred and George laughed. " We can help change that."
" Don't you dare." Hermione said, threateningly. " You put one thing in the cake and you'll be eating it for the rest of the night."
" Sounds fair." Fred joked.
" Hey, where's Crabbe and Goyle?" George suddenly realized the absence of these bumbling two men.
" I sent them off home." Hermione explained. " Draco had to leave unexpectedly." She had no idea why, but the Weasley twins didn't ask.
" He was eyeing Ginny, I think." Fred said, thoughtfully.
" I don't think he's that bad of a guy." George noted. " I mean, he was pretty nice to Ginny, dancing with her and everything."
" Yeah." Hermione stood up suddenly. " I have to speak to Harry."
~*~
Draco shook his head. " No. I can't." Then, he added: " Go back to the party. Forget about me."
Ginny's eyes flowed with tears of frustration, hurt, and shock. He turned away and then said goodbye. She didn't reply, she only said: "This isn't goodbye!"
He kept walking away from her, half expecting to have her run after him, to pull him back, but she didn't. So, heart heavy and head hung low, Draco walked away from her. Ginny stood watching, then turned and walked the other way. As she went through the gate marked `Haven' and back out of the park, she suddenly felt so terrible, as if she should have done more.
~*~
Ginny walked into the party room, peeling her wet coat off. She walked right up to Neville, since he was, after all, Dear Nev, the advice man. He looked up and exclaimed: " I thought you left, Ginny."
" Nope." She sat down in front of him. " I need advice, Neville."
" Really?" He mumbled. " I - I don't r-really give advice o-orally. I prefer, w-well, writing it, it's a bit less p-personal that way." He seemed nervous.
" Oh, don't worry! I won't press charges or something if the advice backflips!" Ginny laughed. " I wrote to your column before, you know."
" When?" Neville asked.
" You printed that one letter, about the girl that went through a traumatic event, and nobody would allow her to tell of her traumatic event, and that everyone just told her to keep it inside since it hurt to talk!" Ginny rattled off, since she had practiced what to say to Neville before she even got into the building.
" That was you?" Neville looked astounded. " I got a boatload of replies to that!"
` Really?"
" Yes. A lot of men were saying things about you getting a boyfriend to listen to you. There were some very intrigued ladies writing, tying your story in with something that happened to them. You sparked off a real hot topic." Neville was getting warmed up now, feeling a bit familiar with Ginny's problems.
" I have another problem." Ginny sighed. " Can I keep you in complete, utter confidence?"
" Sure." Neville said.
" You see - well - I have always needed someone to listen." Ginny felt her heart flip-flop. " I think I found someone who'd listen to me."
" That's great, Ginny!" Neville said.
"Not that great." Ginny replied. " I - I feel that this person isn't interested in me, not to the extent that I think I'm attracted to him."
" How do you know?" Neville reasoned. " I mean, some guys don't just go right out and then tell a girl they love her dearly. Especially if the man we are speaking of is Draco Malfoy."
Ginny felt her whole face turn deep red. " How - how did you know?"
" Hearing people's problems for so long, I'm used to thinking this way. Usually, when people fall in love, especially in the letters I receive, it is an unlikely marriage. For instance, I had cases of women marrying people that bullied them during school years. I've had men that fell in love with the younger sister of their best friend. I've had enemies fall in love. I've seen cousins fall in love. I've seen many things in letters. Or, actually, I've read." Neville cleared his throat noisily. " Not that some of the stuff I'd seen was normal. I've also had some odd things, that I couldn't even print due to the controversy it would cause."
" I can understand." Ginny said. She crossed her legs. " You're a guy. Tell me, did Draco look interested in me?"
" I didn't really observe you and Draco tonight." Neville sighed. " I've been trying to back out of pointless conversations with Lavender Brown all evening. She seems to really enjoy the presence of males." Suddenly, a piece of Neville's cheesecake fell into his lap. " Shoot!"
He picked it up. " At least it did not stain."
When he was picking it up, his elbow bumped the table and Ginny caught his wineglass before it fell onto him. " Thank you." Neville said.
" Thanks for your advice." Ginny stood up again.
" Where are you going now?" Neville questioned.
" I think I should go comb my hair down. That wind and snow can do real horrors to a hairstyle." Ginny gave Neville a bright grin and she then walked out of the room. She passed Hermione as she went. Hermione rushed up to her, wanting to speak with Ginny, but Ginny held up one finger to indicate `one second', as in - `wait!'.
She rushed down the hallway outside and then ran into the washroom to comb her hair. She figured that maybe, just maybe, Draco would return to see her still.
~*~
" Harry!" Hermione stopped right in front of him.
" Oh! Hey, Hermione. You look angry." He exclaimed.
" No, I'm actually just upset." She said. " I want to know what happened that made Draco leave in such a huff. Don't think I didn't notice that you and Ron left the room the moment Draco and Ginny did!"
Harry looked embarrassed.
" It's a long story." Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.
" I demand to know!" Hermione said, planting her foot firmly to the ground. Her eyes searched Harry's face for a clue as to what had happened, even before Harry might begin revealing the story to her.
" Well, when both Draco and Ginny left, I figured that he might be trying to pull something funny. Ron and I went to just check things out. When I found Ginny and Draco, he was kissing her." Harry bit his lower lip. " I assumed he was putting the moves on her."
" Harry . . ." She said in a disappointed voice, and reasonably so.
" I'm sorry." He said, making his lower lip tremble in a cute way. Hermione laughed and then said:
" Don't think you can charm me over!"
" Oh, I can't, can't I?" He grinned.
" Nope." She teased.
" Well, I'm really awfully sorry. I did tell him that. He was just very worked up about things. You can't exactly do something like that to a Malfoy and expect to wake up alive."
" You wouldn't really wake up dead, either." Hermione said.
" Yes you - - well, I guess you're right." Harry laughed. " You can't wake up dead."
Hermione sighed. " I can't ever be upset with you. I believe you, about being sorry. Call me over-won by your charm."
" I have more where that came from." Harry winked.
" Save it for later." Hermione then decided to go check on Ginny, for Ginny wasn't quite herself anymore now, especially when she and Ginny bumped into each other a while ago. Ginny looked rushed and worried.
~*~
Cho leaned forwards. " So, Oliver, what are you doing now?"
" You mean, career-wise?" Oliver asked.
" Yes." Cho said.
" Well, I've been doing a few things. I had been instructor for Quidditch in Hogwarts for a year, helping Madame Hooch (she isn't getting any younger, you know)." Oliver then added: " I've also been studying hard. Perhaps I can become part of the Ministry of Magic."
" Perhaps." Cho yawned lightly. " Goodness, it's getting late. Anyone who's wandering around now must be out of their mind."
" Nobody's wondering around." Oliver said.
" Is Hermione a good teacher?" Cho asked, suddenly.
" I haven't really seen her in class." Oliver explained. " I did bump into a few of her students when they'd come to my Quidditch lessons. They say she's really nice, and things like that. You know how it is with children."
" Oh, I know, alright." Cho grinned. " Everyone always likes the teacher that gives the least work."
" Remember that class - Sprout's Advanced Herbology? I took it during my seventh year. All we did was sit around watching her do demonstrations, ever since some kid got severely bitten by a plant. I hear it bit his arm off." He shook his head. " Poor Madame Pomfrey had a real hard time working on him."
" I remember that class!" Cho's eyes danced merrily. " Professor Sprout was great, wasn't she?"
" I think she's here today. I saw her with Madame Hooch at the table with the other professors and teachers." Oliver said. He suddenly noticed how fun Cho was - her personality was radiant, she was very kind and intelligent, and interested in Quidditch, just as he was.
~*~
The air was frosty, the snowflakes thinning out so that Draco could see moderately well down the cemented, paved street. He didn't quite know where he was going, but his feet were leading him somewhere that he felt was important, and since he didn't know quite well where he ought to be going himself, he decided to follow his instincts.
His mind floated among many thoughts, a jumbled mess, concerning himself with everything but with Ginny. He didn't want to think of her, standing all alone, wet and cold and shaking, in the middle of the park, her breath white and frosty and her red hair horribly tousled.
The streetlights were on already, and shops were closing for the day. Draco stopped to watch the man in the flower shop clearing away flowers from the window display. A bouquet of pansies was suddenly tossed into a black garbage bag and very vivid red roses took their place.
Draco continued down the street.
He had a scarf, a silver-colored one that he would wear as Head Boy. Now he looked down at the dainty silver threads and Draco wondered why he bothered to purchase it. He remembered the moment that he saw it in Diagon Alley with his father, this great silver scarf to fit in with the Slytherin colors. Draco hadn't been that excited in ages as he burst into the store and bought it immediately.
After a few days of decorating him in the winter, it lost its significance. The material wasn't so soft and cuddly after a washing, and even though Narcissa tried, it never got that bouncy and airy feel to it. Draco stopped wearing it once Voldemort was defeated, only because his father had gone in to an odd state of madness and in doing so he had taken Draco's scarf and thrown it out the window of their mansion. Draco figured it had fallen into the pond that was part of their landscaping, but a year ago he found it while cleaning out a gutter for Narcissa. His father remained secluded in a room in the mansion, mad as a dog. The Malfoys made it a point to preserve this fact only to themselves, due to the dishonor it gave.
He reached up, taking hold of the scarf. Slowly, he pulled it off his neck and then stopped to look at a little blue bin in front of a store. On the top it read: Salvation Army. Draco had heard that the Salvation Army had set up a small shop somewhere in the area. They were on a weeklong project to collect winter clothing for children in some faraway country called Zaire. Draco pushed his scarf into the slot in the cardboard bit that covered the bin's contents.
Once he saw his scarf confined in the blue bars of the bin, Draco only then realized what he had done. It was almost in a hazy trance that he had done this, for he simply wasn't thinking and when he saw: `Put your scarves, hats, gloves here' written on the cardboard piece he did it.
He poked his finger into the bin, wondering if he ought to fish the scarf out.
" Bless you, child." An old woman chattered from the doorway. He hadn't even taken note that someone was watching over the bin.
Draco straightened up, looking at the woman with interest. She didn't say it with a mean-spirited voice, so he figured she meant him well. The old woman shifted on her cane, her grizzled face coming closer to Draco's: " Not many young ones come so far out here to drop off a scarf."
Draco nodded, wanting to get away.
The old woman reached into the pocket of the white apron she had on and then handed him a little sticker. It didn't even glow or sparkle or show images - it was flat and 2D. On it was the Salvation Army's logo and the words `Thank you'. Draco flipped the sticker around, hoping to see more, then figured Muggles knew nothing about constructing worthy stickers.
The old woman watched him, almost expecting Draco to stick the sticker onto himself somewhere. Draco pushed it into his coat pocket and said: " Thank you."
" No, I thank YOU." Then, the woman leaned back and sat down in a chair prepared for her. Her eyes stared wistfully at the bin at her feet. Other then Draco's scarf, there was a very ugly purple hat that was so elongated it wouldn't fit anyone's head, and there were black leather mittens that were stitched up in two places. They looked all right otherwise, though. There was another scarf, also, and this scarf was very flowery and in many shades and hues.
Looking at these meager, poor articles of clothing made Draco feel very sad all of a sudden. He brushed away the snowflakes from his shoulders and then walked further down the street, nodding in a farewell to the old woman. She must not have seen him though for she didn't make any motion back.
The street came to an end and then there were two streets branching off, one to the left and one to the right. Draco vaguely remembered this place now and he took the way left.
A few children raced by him on the street, a very round and jolly-looking man chasing after them. " Catch me daddy!" A little girl squealed. The jolly man reached out and grasped the child's hood.
" No fair!" The girl grumbled.
Draco stepped aside as two little boys, twins, came after the girl. "Daddy! Daddy! Can we get some hot caw - caw?"
" It's cocoa." The father smiled. "Sure."
" Race you!" The girl hollered, running further down the street. The others followed in pursuit. Draco watched them disappear around the bend of the street. He tried to remember the last time he had played like that, with his father. Then it struck him that he hadn't. The only thing he and his father did together that would be remotely fun was talk. They'd have hour-long conversations sometimes over winter vacation, discussing topics on about everything. Draco had always been the devil's advocate. If his father would begin to preach on Dark Arts, Draco would counter with why it was evil and wrong, just to see his father's reactions. Hardly ever were the reactions nice ones, though.
Walking further down the street, Draco came across a stray dog walking down the street, tail tucked between its legs. The dog looked at him sadly, almost waiting for that bone or scrap of meat to fall in front of it. Draco reached out to pet it but it cowered away and then ran into an alleyway nearby.
Draco rubbed his hands together. It was getting to be cold.
Suddenly, he stopped in front of the ice cream shop. Devin was still inside, sitting at a table. The little boy had two servings of ice cream sundae in front of him. One was put in front of an empty seat and the other one was in front of him. Draco realized the boy was probably eating with his `Mommy'. Devin turned to the chair to his left and then chatted happily. The chair, of course, showed no sign of reply. Devin giggled happily and then dug his spoon into the other sundae, tasting it. Then, he lifted his own, in offering to the chair.
Devin was so small, his feet swung above the floor as he sat on the chair. He couldn't have been more then five or so.
Draco pressed closer to the window of the little shop. His breath clouded the window and his fingertips skimmed the cold surface of the glass, a pained expression on his face. He watched Devin offer his ice cream to the chair again, then shrug.
" She's not there." Draco whispered to himself. " Sorry, kid. There's nothing left of her."
Devin suddenly got up, carrying a little canister of sprinkles to the table. He poured some onto his ice cream, then hesitated before dumping an entire hill of sprinkles on his mother's ice cream sundae. Those colorful, cheerful sprinkles seemed to hideously out of place.
Draco's heart suddenly squeezed.
Devin was feeding a ghost. A ghost of a love that could never be fed, ever again, and yet Devin did it. The ice cream that was to be his mother's was melting from the warmth and lights in the shop, but Devin kept it there, waiting to see when it would slowly perhaps be eaten by the ghost - waiting for what will never come, for what lingered in the past.
Draco felt a catch in his stomach, a pull that hurt.
He had been romancing a ghost as well - the ghost of Pansy. He had been a complete and total reject of love and the opposite sex ever since her death. There had not been a day when he hadn't reflected on her, when he hadn't piled ice cream for Pansy, this syrup-sweet bowl of devotion that was of no use anymore. If someone was to consume that bowl, it would have to be someone else.
The ghost of romance that Draco had been holding so close needed to be able to escape. Suddenly, Draco turned around, his heart beating wildly. This was it. He had to stop offering his affection to something that was gone forever, that was in his past. How stupid could he have been, to jerk away whatever he had let Ginny taste, for a while, only to return to a sorry state - like Devin. Devin, sitting there all alone, feet swinging up above the floor, tiny sneakers streaked with mud, speaking to his mother, offering her ice cream that wasn't being eaten.
Draco walked quickly down the street in the opposite direction.
He found himself standing in front of the flower shop again. With a flourish, he burst inside, the bells jangling overhead, and he stopped in front of the shop owner's desk. The man looked up, tiny metal-rimmed glasses perched on a long hooked nose. "May I help you, young man?"
" I want some flowers." Draco said.
A weight lifted from his heart. God, was it good, to buy flowers again. To have someone to buy flowers to. To have flowers in his hand. God, was it good!
The man smiled. " What occasion?"
Draco remembered that the last time he had purchased flowers, they were wrapped in a black ribbon, put onto the top of a handsome oak casket, which was lowered into the soft folds of Earth, never to see the world again. Inside that casket was Pansy, Pansy that had faded away right before his own eyes. The siren noise flashed in his mind again, the blinking lights of the ambulance. He almost backed away, then bit his lower lip, stiffly: " In a form of apology, sir."
" Apology." He took in a deep breath. His nostrils flared and then flattened against the hooked nose, that of a hawk's. The man asked: " May I ask to whom? Relative, friend, otherwise?"
` What is this? 20 Questions?' Draco thought, feeling a sudden anger. It was entirely his own private damn business what he wanted to buy and to whom. He could be buying flowers for his dog for all anyone cared.
" To a girl." Draco said.
" Ah!" The man grinned happily. " I will be right back." He ducked into a backroom. Draco stood before the desk, twiddling his thumbs a bit like some sort of nervous love-struck teenager. His eyes fell upon a lovely flower arrangement, until he read the words on it: ` In deepest Memory of ______________'. Draco remembered Pansy's funeral once again.
//\\Flashback//\\
A thin drizzle was falling, the ground a muddy mess beneath his feet. All around him were people he had invited - Parkinsons and Malfoys. Nobody other then that, not even Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't want anyone else to see Pansy, his beautiful, beautiful Pansy, lowered into the ground.
The Parkinsons had asked some sort of man to come to give a bit of a blessing for the funeral. Draco did not know what religion they were - if they were any - but it felt comforting to listen to the man. He told of Pansy and the good things she had done, speaking of her in ways she had never been spoken of in real life. Then, the man asked if anyone wanted to say anything.
` Yes! I do!' Draco wanted to shout, to begin telling everyone who Pansy was to him, how it was completely unfair that it was her in that cold wooden casket.
The drizzle turned into a downpour, howling in Draco's ears. Men with shovels began to push heavy clumps of soil over onto the casket. The mud fell heavily on the casket. Draco watched as people began to walk away, shielding themselves from the rain. But who was shielding Pansy?
They would all go off and home to eat dinner by candlelight, to sleep on their feather beds, to make love to their partners, to dream sweet dreams. Pansy was in her mud-spattered, cold, wet casket.
Draco remained standing in front of the grave, watching as the men buried it. Not even when Mrs. Parkinson came up to him, telling him they will take him home, did he willingly go. He slowly turned away, listening to the crunch-swish sound of the ground being broken up wit the stiff metal shovels and then heaved onto Pansy.
It was the single most horrible moment of his life, the one that remained like a twisted image in a shattered mirror - seven years bad luck.
//\\ end of flashback //\\
The man returned from the backroom holding a happy bouquet of roses like the one that had pushed the pansies out of their display in the store window. Draco shook his head. " I - - they're not what I'm looking for." Draco said.
" These are the single most beautiful flowers we have in stock!" The man said, wearily.
" I - I understand, sir, but they're just not what I'm looking for." Draco then said: " I saw some nice pansies in the window display on the way by a few minutes ago."
" Those hideous old things? I tossed them out." The man exclaimed.
" I'd like them, please." Draco said, firmly.
The man shrugged and then went to the garbage bag by the door. He dug the flowers out. The flowers weren't even wilted; they were simply not in the style now for the winter. They were also not very pretty pansies.
" You can have them, gratis to the shop." The man said, then handed them to Draco. " Would you like some foil or a ribbon to wrap that up for you?"
" No." Draco said. " Nobody's going to pack up my pansies again." He hugged them to himself and then left the store. He had someone to offer a nice, warm bowl of affection to. Someone to offer pansies to.
A/N: I'm sorry that was very short, half as long as the other chapters! I just needed to make it short to make a point about the epiphany (did you like it?). Are you people getting all the symbols, motifs, and stuff?
(^_^)
Thank you for all the reviews, everyone! If I could I'd send all of you a huge smiley face balloon!
By the way, this is short and will be in majority about Draco since he's going to have a bit of an epiphany. Ch. 5 will be more about Harry and Hermione. Really!
And what's up with ch.3? They didn't add it to the word count on FanFiction.net!!!! I mean, I have exactly 22,450 words or something and its only showing up 15,000 of them. D'oh! People will think I didn't write much!
Oh and experienced authors out there! I keep trying to make italics, bold print, font, or font size to work from Microsoft Word (97 version) to download into the story! I am at a breaking point! It's so annoying!
Chapter 4
Ron took a large spoonful of cake into his mouth and then closed his eyes. Hermione wondered if the cake had killed him. "Ron?" She asked, nervously. Ron's eyes shot open and he grinned broadly.
" I'm savoring it, Hermione."
" It's good?" She asked.
" If it wouldn't be, I wouldn't be smiling, would I?" Ron then looked at Harry. "Right, Harry? It's delicious."
Harry nodded. " The best cake I've ever eaten, in fact."
" You guys are just being nice." Hermione protested. Then, she tasted the cake herself. Her attitude changed suddenly. " Hey! I finally cooked something! And it's not disgusting!"
Fred and George laughed. " We can help change that."
" Don't you dare." Hermione said, threateningly. " You put one thing in the cake and you'll be eating it for the rest of the night."
" Sounds fair." Fred joked.
" Hey, where's Crabbe and Goyle?" George suddenly realized the absence of these bumbling two men.
" I sent them off home." Hermione explained. " Draco had to leave unexpectedly." She had no idea why, but the Weasley twins didn't ask.
" He was eyeing Ginny, I think." Fred said, thoughtfully.
" I don't think he's that bad of a guy." George noted. " I mean, he was pretty nice to Ginny, dancing with her and everything."
" Yeah." Hermione stood up suddenly. " I have to speak to Harry."
~*~
Draco shook his head. " No. I can't." Then, he added: " Go back to the party. Forget about me."
Ginny's eyes flowed with tears of frustration, hurt, and shock. He turned away and then said goodbye. She didn't reply, she only said: "This isn't goodbye!"
He kept walking away from her, half expecting to have her run after him, to pull him back, but she didn't. So, heart heavy and head hung low, Draco walked away from her. Ginny stood watching, then turned and walked the other way. As she went through the gate marked `Haven' and back out of the park, she suddenly felt so terrible, as if she should have done more.
~*~
Ginny walked into the party room, peeling her wet coat off. She walked right up to Neville, since he was, after all, Dear Nev, the advice man. He looked up and exclaimed: " I thought you left, Ginny."
" Nope." She sat down in front of him. " I need advice, Neville."
" Really?" He mumbled. " I - I don't r-really give advice o-orally. I prefer, w-well, writing it, it's a bit less p-personal that way." He seemed nervous.
" Oh, don't worry! I won't press charges or something if the advice backflips!" Ginny laughed. " I wrote to your column before, you know."
" When?" Neville asked.
" You printed that one letter, about the girl that went through a traumatic event, and nobody would allow her to tell of her traumatic event, and that everyone just told her to keep it inside since it hurt to talk!" Ginny rattled off, since she had practiced what to say to Neville before she even got into the building.
" That was you?" Neville looked astounded. " I got a boatload of replies to that!"
` Really?"
" Yes. A lot of men were saying things about you getting a boyfriend to listen to you. There were some very intrigued ladies writing, tying your story in with something that happened to them. You sparked off a real hot topic." Neville was getting warmed up now, feeling a bit familiar with Ginny's problems.
" I have another problem." Ginny sighed. " Can I keep you in complete, utter confidence?"
" Sure." Neville said.
" You see - well - I have always needed someone to listen." Ginny felt her heart flip-flop. " I think I found someone who'd listen to me."
" That's great, Ginny!" Neville said.
"Not that great." Ginny replied. " I - I feel that this person isn't interested in me, not to the extent that I think I'm attracted to him."
" How do you know?" Neville reasoned. " I mean, some guys don't just go right out and then tell a girl they love her dearly. Especially if the man we are speaking of is Draco Malfoy."
Ginny felt her whole face turn deep red. " How - how did you know?"
" Hearing people's problems for so long, I'm used to thinking this way. Usually, when people fall in love, especially in the letters I receive, it is an unlikely marriage. For instance, I had cases of women marrying people that bullied them during school years. I've had men that fell in love with the younger sister of their best friend. I've had enemies fall in love. I've seen cousins fall in love. I've seen many things in letters. Or, actually, I've read." Neville cleared his throat noisily. " Not that some of the stuff I'd seen was normal. I've also had some odd things, that I couldn't even print due to the controversy it would cause."
" I can understand." Ginny said. She crossed her legs. " You're a guy. Tell me, did Draco look interested in me?"
" I didn't really observe you and Draco tonight." Neville sighed. " I've been trying to back out of pointless conversations with Lavender Brown all evening. She seems to really enjoy the presence of males." Suddenly, a piece of Neville's cheesecake fell into his lap. " Shoot!"
He picked it up. " At least it did not stain."
When he was picking it up, his elbow bumped the table and Ginny caught his wineglass before it fell onto him. " Thank you." Neville said.
" Thanks for your advice." Ginny stood up again.
" Where are you going now?" Neville questioned.
" I think I should go comb my hair down. That wind and snow can do real horrors to a hairstyle." Ginny gave Neville a bright grin and she then walked out of the room. She passed Hermione as she went. Hermione rushed up to her, wanting to speak with Ginny, but Ginny held up one finger to indicate `one second', as in - `wait!'.
She rushed down the hallway outside and then ran into the washroom to comb her hair. She figured that maybe, just maybe, Draco would return to see her still.
~*~
" Harry!" Hermione stopped right in front of him.
" Oh! Hey, Hermione. You look angry." He exclaimed.
" No, I'm actually just upset." She said. " I want to know what happened that made Draco leave in such a huff. Don't think I didn't notice that you and Ron left the room the moment Draco and Ginny did!"
Harry looked embarrassed.
" It's a long story." Harry said, rubbing the back of his neck.
" I demand to know!" Hermione said, planting her foot firmly to the ground. Her eyes searched Harry's face for a clue as to what had happened, even before Harry might begin revealing the story to her.
" Well, when both Draco and Ginny left, I figured that he might be trying to pull something funny. Ron and I went to just check things out. When I found Ginny and Draco, he was kissing her." Harry bit his lower lip. " I assumed he was putting the moves on her."
" Harry . . ." She said in a disappointed voice, and reasonably so.
" I'm sorry." He said, making his lower lip tremble in a cute way. Hermione laughed and then said:
" Don't think you can charm me over!"
" Oh, I can't, can't I?" He grinned.
" Nope." She teased.
" Well, I'm really awfully sorry. I did tell him that. He was just very worked up about things. You can't exactly do something like that to a Malfoy and expect to wake up alive."
" You wouldn't really wake up dead, either." Hermione said.
" Yes you - - well, I guess you're right." Harry laughed. " You can't wake up dead."
Hermione sighed. " I can't ever be upset with you. I believe you, about being sorry. Call me over-won by your charm."
" I have more where that came from." Harry winked.
" Save it for later." Hermione then decided to go check on Ginny, for Ginny wasn't quite herself anymore now, especially when she and Ginny bumped into each other a while ago. Ginny looked rushed and worried.
~*~
Cho leaned forwards. " So, Oliver, what are you doing now?"
" You mean, career-wise?" Oliver asked.
" Yes." Cho said.
" Well, I've been doing a few things. I had been instructor for Quidditch in Hogwarts for a year, helping Madame Hooch (she isn't getting any younger, you know)." Oliver then added: " I've also been studying hard. Perhaps I can become part of the Ministry of Magic."
" Perhaps." Cho yawned lightly. " Goodness, it's getting late. Anyone who's wandering around now must be out of their mind."
" Nobody's wondering around." Oliver said.
" Is Hermione a good teacher?" Cho asked, suddenly.
" I haven't really seen her in class." Oliver explained. " I did bump into a few of her students when they'd come to my Quidditch lessons. They say she's really nice, and things like that. You know how it is with children."
" Oh, I know, alright." Cho grinned. " Everyone always likes the teacher that gives the least work."
" Remember that class - Sprout's Advanced Herbology? I took it during my seventh year. All we did was sit around watching her do demonstrations, ever since some kid got severely bitten by a plant. I hear it bit his arm off." He shook his head. " Poor Madame Pomfrey had a real hard time working on him."
" I remember that class!" Cho's eyes danced merrily. " Professor Sprout was great, wasn't she?"
" I think she's here today. I saw her with Madame Hooch at the table with the other professors and teachers." Oliver said. He suddenly noticed how fun Cho was - her personality was radiant, she was very kind and intelligent, and interested in Quidditch, just as he was.
~*~
The air was frosty, the snowflakes thinning out so that Draco could see moderately well down the cemented, paved street. He didn't quite know where he was going, but his feet were leading him somewhere that he felt was important, and since he didn't know quite well where he ought to be going himself, he decided to follow his instincts.
His mind floated among many thoughts, a jumbled mess, concerning himself with everything but with Ginny. He didn't want to think of her, standing all alone, wet and cold and shaking, in the middle of the park, her breath white and frosty and her red hair horribly tousled.
The streetlights were on already, and shops were closing for the day. Draco stopped to watch the man in the flower shop clearing away flowers from the window display. A bouquet of pansies was suddenly tossed into a black garbage bag and very vivid red roses took their place.
Draco continued down the street.
He had a scarf, a silver-colored one that he would wear as Head Boy. Now he looked down at the dainty silver threads and Draco wondered why he bothered to purchase it. He remembered the moment that he saw it in Diagon Alley with his father, this great silver scarf to fit in with the Slytherin colors. Draco hadn't been that excited in ages as he burst into the store and bought it immediately.
After a few days of decorating him in the winter, it lost its significance. The material wasn't so soft and cuddly after a washing, and even though Narcissa tried, it never got that bouncy and airy feel to it. Draco stopped wearing it once Voldemort was defeated, only because his father had gone in to an odd state of madness and in doing so he had taken Draco's scarf and thrown it out the window of their mansion. Draco figured it had fallen into the pond that was part of their landscaping, but a year ago he found it while cleaning out a gutter for Narcissa. His father remained secluded in a room in the mansion, mad as a dog. The Malfoys made it a point to preserve this fact only to themselves, due to the dishonor it gave.
He reached up, taking hold of the scarf. Slowly, he pulled it off his neck and then stopped to look at a little blue bin in front of a store. On the top it read: Salvation Army. Draco had heard that the Salvation Army had set up a small shop somewhere in the area. They were on a weeklong project to collect winter clothing for children in some faraway country called Zaire. Draco pushed his scarf into the slot in the cardboard bit that covered the bin's contents.
Once he saw his scarf confined in the blue bars of the bin, Draco only then realized what he had done. It was almost in a hazy trance that he had done this, for he simply wasn't thinking and when he saw: `Put your scarves, hats, gloves here' written on the cardboard piece he did it.
He poked his finger into the bin, wondering if he ought to fish the scarf out.
" Bless you, child." An old woman chattered from the doorway. He hadn't even taken note that someone was watching over the bin.
Draco straightened up, looking at the woman with interest. She didn't say it with a mean-spirited voice, so he figured she meant him well. The old woman shifted on her cane, her grizzled face coming closer to Draco's: " Not many young ones come so far out here to drop off a scarf."
Draco nodded, wanting to get away.
The old woman reached into the pocket of the white apron she had on and then handed him a little sticker. It didn't even glow or sparkle or show images - it was flat and 2D. On it was the Salvation Army's logo and the words `Thank you'. Draco flipped the sticker around, hoping to see more, then figured Muggles knew nothing about constructing worthy stickers.
The old woman watched him, almost expecting Draco to stick the sticker onto himself somewhere. Draco pushed it into his coat pocket and said: " Thank you."
" No, I thank YOU." Then, the woman leaned back and sat down in a chair prepared for her. Her eyes stared wistfully at the bin at her feet. Other then Draco's scarf, there was a very ugly purple hat that was so elongated it wouldn't fit anyone's head, and there were black leather mittens that were stitched up in two places. They looked all right otherwise, though. There was another scarf, also, and this scarf was very flowery and in many shades and hues.
Looking at these meager, poor articles of clothing made Draco feel very sad all of a sudden. He brushed away the snowflakes from his shoulders and then walked further down the street, nodding in a farewell to the old woman. She must not have seen him though for she didn't make any motion back.
The street came to an end and then there were two streets branching off, one to the left and one to the right. Draco vaguely remembered this place now and he took the way left.
A few children raced by him on the street, a very round and jolly-looking man chasing after them. " Catch me daddy!" A little girl squealed. The jolly man reached out and grasped the child's hood.
" No fair!" The girl grumbled.
Draco stepped aside as two little boys, twins, came after the girl. "Daddy! Daddy! Can we get some hot caw - caw?"
" It's cocoa." The father smiled. "Sure."
" Race you!" The girl hollered, running further down the street. The others followed in pursuit. Draco watched them disappear around the bend of the street. He tried to remember the last time he had played like that, with his father. Then it struck him that he hadn't. The only thing he and his father did together that would be remotely fun was talk. They'd have hour-long conversations sometimes over winter vacation, discussing topics on about everything. Draco had always been the devil's advocate. If his father would begin to preach on Dark Arts, Draco would counter with why it was evil and wrong, just to see his father's reactions. Hardly ever were the reactions nice ones, though.
Walking further down the street, Draco came across a stray dog walking down the street, tail tucked between its legs. The dog looked at him sadly, almost waiting for that bone or scrap of meat to fall in front of it. Draco reached out to pet it but it cowered away and then ran into an alleyway nearby.
Draco rubbed his hands together. It was getting to be cold.
Suddenly, he stopped in front of the ice cream shop. Devin was still inside, sitting at a table. The little boy had two servings of ice cream sundae in front of him. One was put in front of an empty seat and the other one was in front of him. Draco realized the boy was probably eating with his `Mommy'. Devin turned to the chair to his left and then chatted happily. The chair, of course, showed no sign of reply. Devin giggled happily and then dug his spoon into the other sundae, tasting it. Then, he lifted his own, in offering to the chair.
Devin was so small, his feet swung above the floor as he sat on the chair. He couldn't have been more then five or so.
Draco pressed closer to the window of the little shop. His breath clouded the window and his fingertips skimmed the cold surface of the glass, a pained expression on his face. He watched Devin offer his ice cream to the chair again, then shrug.
" She's not there." Draco whispered to himself. " Sorry, kid. There's nothing left of her."
Devin suddenly got up, carrying a little canister of sprinkles to the table. He poured some onto his ice cream, then hesitated before dumping an entire hill of sprinkles on his mother's ice cream sundae. Those colorful, cheerful sprinkles seemed to hideously out of place.
Draco's heart suddenly squeezed.
Devin was feeding a ghost. A ghost of a love that could never be fed, ever again, and yet Devin did it. The ice cream that was to be his mother's was melting from the warmth and lights in the shop, but Devin kept it there, waiting to see when it would slowly perhaps be eaten by the ghost - waiting for what will never come, for what lingered in the past.
Draco felt a catch in his stomach, a pull that hurt.
He had been romancing a ghost as well - the ghost of Pansy. He had been a complete and total reject of love and the opposite sex ever since her death. There had not been a day when he hadn't reflected on her, when he hadn't piled ice cream for Pansy, this syrup-sweet bowl of devotion that was of no use anymore. If someone was to consume that bowl, it would have to be someone else.
The ghost of romance that Draco had been holding so close needed to be able to escape. Suddenly, Draco turned around, his heart beating wildly. This was it. He had to stop offering his affection to something that was gone forever, that was in his past. How stupid could he have been, to jerk away whatever he had let Ginny taste, for a while, only to return to a sorry state - like Devin. Devin, sitting there all alone, feet swinging up above the floor, tiny sneakers streaked with mud, speaking to his mother, offering her ice cream that wasn't being eaten.
Draco walked quickly down the street in the opposite direction.
He found himself standing in front of the flower shop again. With a flourish, he burst inside, the bells jangling overhead, and he stopped in front of the shop owner's desk. The man looked up, tiny metal-rimmed glasses perched on a long hooked nose. "May I help you, young man?"
" I want some flowers." Draco said.
A weight lifted from his heart. God, was it good, to buy flowers again. To have someone to buy flowers to. To have flowers in his hand. God, was it good!
The man smiled. " What occasion?"
Draco remembered that the last time he had purchased flowers, they were wrapped in a black ribbon, put onto the top of a handsome oak casket, which was lowered into the soft folds of Earth, never to see the world again. Inside that casket was Pansy, Pansy that had faded away right before his own eyes. The siren noise flashed in his mind again, the blinking lights of the ambulance. He almost backed away, then bit his lower lip, stiffly: " In a form of apology, sir."
" Apology." He took in a deep breath. His nostrils flared and then flattened against the hooked nose, that of a hawk's. The man asked: " May I ask to whom? Relative, friend, otherwise?"
` What is this? 20 Questions?' Draco thought, feeling a sudden anger. It was entirely his own private damn business what he wanted to buy and to whom. He could be buying flowers for his dog for all anyone cared.
" To a girl." Draco said.
" Ah!" The man grinned happily. " I will be right back." He ducked into a backroom. Draco stood before the desk, twiddling his thumbs a bit like some sort of nervous love-struck teenager. His eyes fell upon a lovely flower arrangement, until he read the words on it: ` In deepest Memory of ______________'. Draco remembered Pansy's funeral once again.
//\\Flashback//\\
A thin drizzle was falling, the ground a muddy mess beneath his feet. All around him were people he had invited - Parkinsons and Malfoys. Nobody other then that, not even Crabbe and Goyle. He didn't want anyone else to see Pansy, his beautiful, beautiful Pansy, lowered into the ground.
The Parkinsons had asked some sort of man to come to give a bit of a blessing for the funeral. Draco did not know what religion they were - if they were any - but it felt comforting to listen to the man. He told of Pansy and the good things she had done, speaking of her in ways she had never been spoken of in real life. Then, the man asked if anyone wanted to say anything.
` Yes! I do!' Draco wanted to shout, to begin telling everyone who Pansy was to him, how it was completely unfair that it was her in that cold wooden casket.
The drizzle turned into a downpour, howling in Draco's ears. Men with shovels began to push heavy clumps of soil over onto the casket. The mud fell heavily on the casket. Draco watched as people began to walk away, shielding themselves from the rain. But who was shielding Pansy?
They would all go off and home to eat dinner by candlelight, to sleep on their feather beds, to make love to their partners, to dream sweet dreams. Pansy was in her mud-spattered, cold, wet casket.
Draco remained standing in front of the grave, watching as the men buried it. Not even when Mrs. Parkinson came up to him, telling him they will take him home, did he willingly go. He slowly turned away, listening to the crunch-swish sound of the ground being broken up wit the stiff metal shovels and then heaved onto Pansy.
It was the single most horrible moment of his life, the one that remained like a twisted image in a shattered mirror - seven years bad luck.
//\\ end of flashback //\\
The man returned from the backroom holding a happy bouquet of roses like the one that had pushed the pansies out of their display in the store window. Draco shook his head. " I - - they're not what I'm looking for." Draco said.
" These are the single most beautiful flowers we have in stock!" The man said, wearily.
" I - I understand, sir, but they're just not what I'm looking for." Draco then said: " I saw some nice pansies in the window display on the way by a few minutes ago."
" Those hideous old things? I tossed them out." The man exclaimed.
" I'd like them, please." Draco said, firmly.
The man shrugged and then went to the garbage bag by the door. He dug the flowers out. The flowers weren't even wilted; they were simply not in the style now for the winter. They were also not very pretty pansies.
" You can have them, gratis to the shop." The man said, then handed them to Draco. " Would you like some foil or a ribbon to wrap that up for you?"
" No." Draco said. " Nobody's going to pack up my pansies again." He hugged them to himself and then left the store. He had someone to offer a nice, warm bowl of affection to. Someone to offer pansies to.
A/N: I'm sorry that was very short, half as long as the other chapters! I just needed to make it short to make a point about the epiphany (did you like it?). Are you people getting all the symbols, motifs, and stuff?
(^_^)