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One Tree Hill – 04 – A heart of darkness

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Where poets speak their heart then bleed for it

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            Damn!  Damn!  Damn!!  Ginny ran all the way to her first class, more than aware that she was almost 5 minutes late.  She blinked an unspoken apology to Professor McGonagall as she walked into the classroom, still breathing hard.  She plopped down in her seat, feeling a little shaky.

            Ooh, her blood was boiling.  She knew that if she weren't so suddenly surprised and confused that she'd be in a rage right now, fit to scream and throw things.  But no. 

First off, she needed to concentrate on the hedgehog in front of her – and try to turn it to a pin cushion.

And secondly, her mind was too preoccupied trying to figure out why Draco Malfoy would be writing on desks, or leaving notes for girls under deskchairs.

            As class proceeded, and several hedgehogs later, when she was able to perform the transfiguration completely, her anger started to cool… leaving a lingering confusion.

            She could not stop her heart from racing.  She couldn't stop thinking about him.  Couldn't stop thinking about the things she'd written… about Easter… about vacations… about nothing… and everything.

She could not help but think of what may be waiting for her under her chair in her final class.

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            He didn't know how he got to class, but somehow he had managed it.  He'd wandered down to the potions classroom, in a mild daze.

The door to the dungeon classroom creaked when he open it and slammed shut behind him.

            The thoroughly confused and pained look on Draco's face started Professor Snape.  He stopped speaking immediately and turned his attention to Draco, trying to read the look, trying to read any secret signs.  Even Harry Potter's annoyance also quickly faded to worry.  He half-stood from his seat, ready to jump into action, were anything seriously wrong.

            Draco cleared his throat, shook his head, and raised his hand, waving off their misguided concerns. 

They each nearly sighed aloud with relief, Potter sitting back down in his seat.

The rest of the class watched this with great interest.

            Draco cleared his throat again, and sat in his seat, pulling his cauldron onto his desk.

            "What nonsense are we brewing today, eh?"

            "Five points, Mr. Malfoy."

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            Ginny entered the class, butterflies floating in her stomach.  She had nothing to worry about really.  Just don't bother checking under the chair, because nothing will be there.  She knew it.

            Taking her seat, she squirmed a bit, sitting on her hands.  Today's potion was already on the board, and Professor Snape seemed to be in a particularly foul mood. 

            She swallowed, carefully looking around the room at her classmates.

            The Professor stood and announced for the class to begin their potions.  He slid along the aisles, sharply pointing out people's errors with a reprimand and the loss of a few points.

            Ginny went about making her potion, using all of her strength to ignore any writing that might be on her desk, and refrain from bending over and getting any notes from under her chair.  Staring into space, she poised a bottle over the cauldron, waiting for the right time to pour the ingredient in.

            A booming voice in her ear made her scatter newt eyes all over.

            "Miss Weasley, you mustn't hold anything over a cauldron!  The smoke and steam will ruin the ingredient before it can be used!  Five points for your carelessness.  Five points for ruining the eyes.  And another five points for spilling them everywhere!  Now clean it up!"

            Colin, who was at the workplace next to her, shoved a bottle of newt eyes toward her, and she quickly added them in and stirred.  Thanking him silently, she dropped to her hands and knees, trying to pick up all the rolling eyes.

            Fifteen points, in one go.  Not bad, she thought.  Not bad, considering she hadn't really done anything…

            She froze.  Her hand loosened, spilling the eyes she'd already collected.  Her heart thudded heavily in her chest.

From her vantage point on her knees, she saw a folded piece of parchment slipped neatly under her chair.

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            He groaned.  He covered his blushing face with his hands.  He leaned forward and banged his head as hard as he could on the desk in front of him.

            Good Lord.  What had he been thinking? 

            Rubbing his face hard, he pulled away his hands slowly.  The thumping pain on his forehead took away some of the shame, but not much.  He refrained from bashing his head again.

            He wasn't exactly sure what made him write the girl another note, leaving it under their chair.  More than anything, he wanted to test her, see if she'd look for the note.  And if she did, she'd come here.

A furtive glance around him told him that the library was still empty.  He glanced at his pocketwatch.  It was still early, dinner just ended.  Only 7:45.  The sun had already set, the library darkly lit with candles and torches.  And he knew that he'd have to leave by 9:00.  He'd have to be in Dumbledore's office by then.

            He frowned at the open potions book in front of him.

            It had only been this morning when he ran across the Weasley.  She had his pocketwatch.  He caressed the heirloom with his thumb.  He'd wondered where he had left it for the past few days.

            She had his note.  Her note.  Oh dear Merlin.

            He ran his hand through his hair, thoroughly mussing it up.

            The clank of the library door shutting got his attention.  He stood up.  He saw her.

            She stood there, apprehensively looking around the empty library.  She glanced at her own wristwatch, seemingly aware she was early.    

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            She bit her lip, taking tentative steps toward the northwest corner of the library, where the note asked her to come, carefully avoiding looking that way.  Instead she scoped out the rest of the library, noting that Madam Pomfrey was missing-in-action.  Who would save her if she screamed for help?

            She smiled to herself, thinking she could manage Draco Malfoy.  At least she thought she could.  She shook her head.

            "Weasley."

            Looking to her left, she saw Draco, standing in front of a desk.  He wasn't wearing his school robes, only his gray uniform slacks and white button-up shirt.  She swallowed.  She'd decided to dress down, wearing her jeans and a tee-shirt and a sweater.  But she noticed he had no comment about it.  Nor about her wild red hair, which she'd let loose from its usual tight braid.

            "Don't call me that."

            She watched him consider that.  He stood there, not willing to say anything more.  Well, this will be quick, she thought.

            "I guess you found the note."

            "Obviously."

            "And you decided to come."

            She raised her eyebrows at him.

            "Why?" he asked.

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            Her mouth opened, and then closed.

            "How are you feeling, Draco?"

            She caught him offguard.

            "What?"

            "Been sleeping well?"

            He frowned.  What was she on about?

            "Yes…I suppose."

            "Then what did you want?"

            He shrugged at her, sitting back in his seat.  He invited her to join him, but she just stood there staring.

            "Sit, Weasley."

            "Why did you ask me here?"

            "Sit, please."

            "I mean, you know we never got along before…and you know my brother and his friends hate you.  And I do mean, hate…"

            "Sit down…"

            "I never really thought that I'd ever have to talk to you, considering the things you say about me and my family…"

            He stood up, towering over her.

            "Miss Weasley, will you please sit down!"

            He raised his voice, wincing at the look on her face.  She sat.

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            "I – I'm sorry."

            He apologized as he sat down.  She glared at him from her seat across from him.  Ginny folded her arms across her chest and observed him from the corner of her eye.

            He seemed rather disheveled.  His hair was rather messed up and his eyes were tired and red.  His posture spoke nothing of the self-absorbed elitist that he was.  And his mouth seemed too tired to form that oh-so-loved smirk of his.

            "I asked you here for a reason, Weasley."

            "Don't call me that."

            "Then what shall I call you?"

            She thought a moment.  She shuddered at the thought of him calling her Ginny.  And she would not let him call her Virginia.  But it was so grating to hear him call her Weasley.

            "Nevermind, what's this all about?"

            He looked at her carefully.

            "Bloody hell, I need some help.  I need help, Weasley."

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            He felt embarrassed.  He thought the whole world was staring at him.  He knew he was blushing.  But hopefully, if he kept a straight face, nobody would think twice about it.  The spooned his porridge into his mouth.  He felt a little better this morning than he did most mornings.  His eyes didn't burn.  And his head wasn't aching.

            Of course, there had been a meeting last night.  But…it had been different.  Felt different.

He sneaked a glance over at Potter.  He was slouched before his breakfast, half-heartedly engaged in a conversation with Weasley.  Wrong Weasley.

            He quickly glanced away.  Alright, he'd certainly have to find something different to call the – the younger Weasley – the girl.  Otherwise, he'd get that strange feeling whenever he looked at her brother.  Weasley.

            Oh dear.

            He was getting weak.  He needed to quit being so damn weak.  Why couldn't he help it?  Why couldn't he control himself?

            Was it because he was so sleepy?  Was it because he was so exhausted?  Was it because he was so emotionally drained?

            It didn't matter why, he figured, he'd just have to stop.  Stop being weak.

            He saw the young Weasley girl enter the Great Hall.  Everything seemed to slow down…

            She walked in, her head held high, walking straight to the Gryffindor table, careful to take a seat alone, or as alone as she could get.  Her red hair was still free, loose curls around her face.  Her face was flushed… her eyes nervously glanced about… her full lips.

He closed his eyes, accidentally dropping his spoon into his bowl.

            Weak.

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            She saw him staring.  She couldn't help it.  She didn't know what to do, and she certainly wouldn't look back at him. 

She blushed.  She was too embarrassed, thinking about last night.

            Last night.  Wow.  She'd been surprised. 

He'd asked her for help.  She'd nodded dumbly back.  He'd leaned forward across the table, until their noses were pressed and he'd ran his fingers through her hair – sending shivers through her entire body.

            Who was that boy?  That was NOT Draco Malfoy.  In fact, she hadn't seen the real Draco Malfoy in ages.  Well, the old Draco Malfoy.  Nobody really knew the real Draco Malfoy…

            She shivered.  Unable to resist, she looked at him.  Saw his hungry eyes were already upon her.  She licked her lips, staring at him.

            Last night. 

It wasn't just the fact that he'd asked her there in the first place.  It wasn't the plea for help.  Not even his trembling fingers in her hair.

            Merlin, it was the kiss.  The unexpected, totally mind-blowing kiss.  It was the kiss.

            She blushed, lowering her head, smiling to herself.  She filled her bowl with her usual porridge and reached for the honey, keeping her eyes on Draco Malfoy the entire time.

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.: Disclaimer :.

This story is based on the characters Draco Malfoy and Ginny Weasley, who are both owned by JK Rowling (as well as all other HP characters and terminology).  The title, and chapter titles, are/will be borrowed from One Tree Hill, by U2.  I seriously suggest you check out that song, as it is a very beautiful piece of work, like most of the songs by U2.

.: Author's Notes :.

Whew!  Hehe, hope you liked it.  Something I listened to while writing this chapter was Are You Happy Now? by Michelle Branch, though the lyrics don't really matter.  Hehehe.  Anyway – thanks for reading!

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Until next time –

Eclipsed Planet