~Part 2- Draco's POV~

(Okay, I know it took me a while to get this next part up but I just got back from vacation. Its rather un-Draco towards the end but its very romantic so I hope you enjoy! D/G forever! p.s. if you have any fanfics you want me to read, email me! I'm dying to find some good ones!)

~~~~~

I never thought life could get any lonelier than it already was. Then I got the letter from my father. That stung something fierce, drilling endless taunting holes into my brain until I thought I was going to pass out. Then the mental pain turned physical a single slash of a knife, and everything I used to cling to came crashing down. I had always known my father was a cruel man. Though he tried to keep it a secret that in fact he was a Deatheater, his loyalties to You-Know-Who were apparent. His malicious attitude towards anyone and everyone lower than us is what drove me to achieve social popularity at Hogwarts in the first place.

All his lessons in life taught me that weaklings would not be tolerated, and people of lower stature or those not full magick had no place in society and therefore should be snubbed. It had never occurred to me, however, that he might hit people. House elves - most definitely. Lower class people - on occasion. But his own son? Never. Until just a few days ago that is. I dont know what hurt me more: the deep wound in my hand or the shock at knowing that my father intentionally hurt me.

The common room had become too choked with people - too much laughter and guffawing that I couldnt' stomach at the moment. So I ran away. Just like one of those sniveling Griffyndors, I turned tail and ran straight out until I hit water. Then, completely out of breath, I collapsed on the grass. I have no clue how long I sat there, staring past the water into murky nothingness; reviewing over and over the situation in my head. Why did I have to leave Hogwarts? Why now? It was the middle of the year, I had numerous friends and admirers, I practically ruled the Slytherin house...

Not that any of it mattered to him of course. Oh no, it was a pure blood school or nothing. I had no say in the matter whatsoever. Any attempt to say what I meant would come to a violent end. Blinking would've been a nice idea; my eyes were dry and my mind completely numb. It didn't make any sense. I didn't want to leave! In amongst my internal screaming I almost missed the sound of footsteps behind me. There it was though, creeping up closer behind me. As I whipped my head around, I was half expecting it to be Crabbe or Goyle sneaking up to tease me. That was why, when I perceived in reality who it was, I was completely blown away.

Ginny Weasley stared at me like a deer caught in the headlights - her emerald eyes opened wide. No... it couldn't be Ginny. The Ginny I knew was a mousy little girl with stringy red hair and those classic hideous Weasley freckles. This girl was... an angel. Her vibrant fiery hair was windblown, falling in cascades around a beautiful moonlight-kissed face. Freckles, that before were a mark of lower-class and "Weasley"-ism, now dusted her nose lightly, and only added to her luminous beauty. Only one flaw in the canvas of beauty she had become stood out to me: her eyes were red. She'd been crying. It was a sin to make angels cry...

Whoa, what was I saying? This was Ginny Weasley here! One of the targets I use to throw insults at on a daily basis! Our fathers were sworn enemies; he'd kill me if he looked inside my head at the moment. Plastering my usual smug sneer onto my face, I growled out,

"Weasley."

Oh God, how long had she been standing there? How much had she seen? I was supposed to be Draco Malfoy, the unbeatable, unemotional bad boy who was hard as glass. Yet here I sat, weak and defenseless, completely out of my usual disguise.

"Its Ginny if you dont mind," she sniffed with an air of formality, "Mr. Malfoy."

The title she'd pinned on me was spat off her tongue as if it hurt. She was mocking me! That little sniveling... God she had beautiful eyes. They were green, but not a plain boring green like Potter's. Hers were a shifting, shimmering sea of emeralds, hid deceptively under a curtain of auburn lashes. And so expressive! They'd gone from fear to formality in less than a split second, always hiding an undertone of uncertainty. "I haven't seen you here before," she told me, settling herself down.

I'd gotten used to sensing fear - it was part of what helped me become the bad ass that I was. I learned from the best, my father was the master. She was oozing it at the moment, sitting as far away from me as she could.

"I'm sorry," I bit out, upholding my act, "I didn't realize you owned the lake."

Ah, good old sarcasm. Always an effective tool when degrading your opponent. Ginny had fallen silent though, not even retaliating weakly like her loser older brother would've done. Then I saw the tear slide down her cheek. One single tear, glistening in the moonlight, as it traced a trail down her silken cheek and landed in the lake.

"You're crying," I stated. For that instant, I let all my guards down and filled my response with emotion - real emotion. The puffiness I'd seen earlier was indeed caused by tears. She looked up at me sharply, and I almost flinched; physically feeling as she pushed walls up around herself.

"No I'm not!" she responded immediately, denying everything. Damnit. Why wasn't she letting me in? Thats a stupid question...

If she wanted to be left alone, she'd be left alone. I didn't have time to brood over other people's problems anyway, even if her tear did burn a hole in my heart...

Burn. My cut burned. It stung something fierce right then; I kept my face stony so as not to show the pain. The lake in front of me was so delightfully void of everything: color, emotion, life. If only I could be like it, or join it. Become one with it. All my current problems would melt away, dissolving in the inky blackness of the lake, and the scarred hand would be severed by the creatures beneath so I couldn't have to feel it any more. Numbed by the biting ice of the lake, I wouldnt have to feel anything anymore. Life would become one big blur.

Or rather, the life that was rapidly being drained from me would pass in a big blur. Nothing trivial comes to mind when you're dying. Its all important stuff. Then you dont think at all, and peace sets in. It was that peace that I longed for, but that peace that was so far away.

"Whats the matter Draco?" her calm voice dragged me out of my thoughts. Startled, I looked over at her. That precious green in her eyes had turned to honey, stealing all the breath from my body. For someone who was before so inconsequential, she sure was meaningful now. Yet I couldn't bring myself to tell her, it was still too painful. She wouldnt understand anyway, her family was perfect!

With 5 older brothers and two loving parents, life couldn't get much simpler. How cold I possibly describe the twisted situation I'd landed myself in? Talking about it would make it all too real, denial was a much better route. "I know we hate each other and all, but maybe if you talk about it, it will make you feel better!" she told me, peering at me with those big green innocent eyes. If only she knew...

"I got a letter from Hogwarts yesterday," I spilled out, "He wants to pull me out of Hogwarts."

I hadn't even meant to say anything; it just sort of... drained. Well now the truth was out, the wound was opened. Whether or not she healed it or rubbed in salt, only time would tell. For an instant, some of the anger did recede. It was quickly replaced by a deep sadness. In an attempt to hide the pain, I concentrated on the shifting black of the water. Better, I thought, than looking at the sympathy - no, pity - in her eyes. Gently loosening my clenched fist, I let the crumpled letter drop from my hand. It was quickly snatched up by her slender fingers. Thankfully she read the letter silently, although if wouldn't have mattered either way. I already had it memorized - its horrid contents engraved forever in my brain.

"Oh God Draco, I'm so sorry. Cant you just ask to stay?" she asked quietly. She meant it to be helpful, it was true, but the unstoppable rush of memories it brought back were too painful.

"You don't know my father, Ginny. He hates Hogwarts; has ever since Dumbledore became headmaster." I told her. Again, it struck me as weird. Why in the name of all things holy was I telling a Weasley my life's problems? Because she was there... because something in her eyes made me want to bare my soul. (I liked the first reason a bit better.)

"Maybe if you just talked to him... told him how you felt..." she started, but I waved her voice away. If only she knew...

"No no! It wont work! It..." all the feeling left my body in a whoosh. "I cant do it." Tendrils of dread crept up from the pit of my stomach, winding up my throat, threatening to choke me.

"You wont know unless you try." It was obvious she was trying to sound reassuring, but its happiness got lost somewhere in the pit of my despair. I was miserable, I couldnt get any worse, she might as well know the truth. Without looking at her, I held out my hand. Even the thought of the seared flesh hurt.

"My father," I explained, a million bad feelings choking me. "I tried to convince him to let me stay at Hogwarts. He didn't take it well at all. Went at me with a knife he keeps hidden in his desk. Mighta hit my face if my hand hadn't been in the way."

The silence that claimed her then burned more than the stinging in my palm. I could almost hear her thoughts. Its his fault, for having a father like he does. He probably deserves it. Which is why, when she took my hand gently in hers, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Her slender fingers traced the scar gently, delicately. The expression on her face shot needles through my heart. Pure, untainted concern. It wasn't possible. In no universe did I deserve even the slightest care from this ethereal angel before me, and yet here she was, showing me more tenderness than I'd ever received in my life.

"Why were you crying?"

The question rolled of my tongue before I could stop it. It had been gnawing at my mind all night, what Beast made Beauty cry? It was obviously not something she wanted to talk about, it was evident by the delicious blush that stained her cheeks. What really had me beating myself up was the pearl tears that she was trying so hard to hold back. The chilling caress of the wind tossed her hair lightly, making it glisten in the moonlight.

God she was beautiful.

"I know we hate each other and all, but maybe if you talk about it, it will make you feel better," I repeated her words with playful teasing, and was rewarded by the smallest of pretty smiles. At least I was getting somewhere, its better than tears.

"Harry," she mumbled softly. A bullet of anger smashed into my chest, shattering the bubble of happiness and flooding in anger.

"Saint Potter," I growled, turning my burning gaze to the lake. How dare he hurt her? I oughta kill him for that. So much rage swelled in my chest I thought I would rip open. And oh how I wanted to punch something; namely Harry's face at the moment. Though I didn't look at her directly, I could feel all the sadness pouring from her body, swirling around me - taunting me. Potter had been ignoring her for years. He never saw what was right in front of him...

"You shouldn't let what that git thinks get to you," I told her, "he's too stuck on that brainy Granger to see what he's missing."

A kind, tender, caring, beautiful angel. The fact that she was a Weasly had almost completely slipped my mind but now came back in full force. Should I really be sitting here discussing my life's problems with one of that clan?

"It hurts too much!" she started to sob now, her willowy body shaking as she spoke, "he doesn't even notice me!"

Yep, I should be.

Racking my brain like mad, I searched frantically for a way to ease her pain, to kill the hurt that Potter had caused her. Turning to her, looking directly into those enchanting emerald eyes, I firmly said,

"You're too good for him."

She cried, each tear drop that hit the ground shook my soul. But there was no longer a choking feeling of distress surrounding her now. She had let me in. I wanted so much to reach out and touch her, to reach out and stroke her silky auburn hair, but I stopped myself. Ginny needed to cry. As painful as it was to watch, it would help her heal.

Minutes passed as I watched emotion after emotion being painted on the canvas of her freckled face. Finally her crying subsided and she was reduced to a red-eyed sniffling, trembling mass. Finally she looked up at me, eyes gleaming with embarrassment and gratitude.

"You'll find the right guy some day Ginny," I told her, smiling warmly. "Potter doesn't deserve you."

And I meant every word of it.

She nodded and released a small laugh. Exhaustion was clearly visible across her face. Silently, probably without realizing it, she scooted over next to me and lay her head on my shoulder and whispered,

"I'm tired Draco."

As she reached down and took up my hand in hers, running a finger weakly down the scar one last time, I knew right then and there that my heart was no longer my own. This amazing little red-head had somehow weaseled her way into even the deepest caverns of my heart, and filled it with tenderness previously unknown. Without even realizing it, I laced my fingers through hers, just as her body went lax and she fell into sleep.

It felt incredibly right, here, our fingers entwined. Suddenly the fear that I felt for life, for my father, melted away. All I could fell was Ginny. Laying my head on hers, I allowed the silky seductiveness of sleep to draw me in. Tomorrow was another day, a new day, and now I had an angel to help me through.

The End