A/N: My first song fic. ::sniffle:: I'm so proud. Writing this during my
Halloween allnighter. Ah, where inspiration comes best. D/G, of course.
What else do you think I'm capable of writing? ^-^
A fic about Draco Malfoy's unreturned feelings for Ginny Weasley. Goes with the song "It's You" by Michelle Branch.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Draco Malfoy could feel the room spin the moment the owl arrived. The letter attached was a hardly a mystery. Far from it, actually. His father's plans for the new attack, of course. The War was raging, and it seemed each side had it's own version of cloak and dagger exchange, and while those like Potter and the Weasleys flaunted their loyalty to Dumbledore daily, Draco Malfoy and a few of his fellow Slytherins knew where the true devotions were.
He was seventeen, capable of his own decisions. Decisions that may lead him into a War with equal chances of triumph for both sides, a War that he may go into but may not return from. Decisions that could shame the whole Malfoy name, if they were ever discovered.
It was her.
*Cause tomorrow never comes
I would want just one thing I would sell it to the stars and sun
I would let it for the world to see
And it's you
The light changes when you're in the room
Oh it's you
Oh it's you*
His eyes followed Ginny Weasley as she walked across the Great Hall, her shiny red hair falling just below her shoulders as a blue hair scrunchie dangled loosely. Her tattered bookbag was settled across her shoulder, and her eyes set firmly ahead as she strided across the room. Her shoes were brown slip-ons, and although the pink socks paired with them made some students cringe with distaste, and normally it would have been the same for him, but somehow it didn't bother him much. Not with her at least.
It was her.
It was second year when he met Ginny Weasley. She had been rushing through the halls, trying to get to her own class while he was taking his time getting to the Charms room. She was running along, pulling her grey robes up as she tried to keep her books and parchments balanced in her arms. Her red hair was slightly disarrayed, and her eyebrows were etched together in focus.
He slowed his pace slightly, raising his eyebrow as he watched her stumble along. "Having a bit of trouble there, Weasley?"
She looked at him, her face somewhat puzzled as if she were trying to place him. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as she searched his face. Finally she closed her mouth, a rather cynical expression hidden behind her usual innocent face. "Oh. Malfoy, is it? If you must know, I'm coming along fine, thank you."
"Any fool could see that you can hardly hold yourself up, Weasel." A muscle below his eye twitched. "Er...need any...help?" The words were so foreign. When was the last time he'd used it? The time was so far off, he couldn't even remember when he last spoke them.
For the first time, Draco saw her face register in complete shock. "What?" She stuttered. "Help?"
"You heard me," He snapped. That, he supposed, was the mistake. He regained composure. "Do you need any?"
Her old Weasley flare came back, and her narrowed eyes sent an angry glare. "No, Malfoy. Go away." With that, she continued on, without even making another gesture or notice to him.
So what did he do? He tried to talk to her several times over the year, but each time he found himself with a similar reaction to that which he first recieved. Things got particularly nasty when he came upon the littlest Weasley composing a poem for Scarhead. He couldn't explain why that had pissed him off so much, but it had. His insults said between the two of them was too private to take out all his anger, to hurt her feelings as much as his were damaged by her writing to Potter. When he saw Potter and Ginny on the staircase, one of those bloody cupids in front of them, he needed to humiliate. He needed to. It was the way he released his feelings, the way he got revenge.
He couldn't blame Ginny for not liking him. He didn't deserve her affections, and he hadn't exactly been the most courteous person. After she had thrown that cursed boogey curse at him in fifth year, he must admit that he spent most of the week afterwards cursing her very name. The fact she existed.
And yet, she was something he worshipped. It was her.
*If tomorrow never comes
I would want just one wish
To kiss your quiet mouth
Trace the steps of my fingertips
And it's you
The light changes when you're in the room
Oh it's you*
Draco followed her after dinner. He watched her every move, gathering each movement she made. The letter was pushed to the back of his mind as it seemed Ginny became the only worth-while thing in the world.
He could imagine the breaths she'd take as his lips travelled up her neck, as his mouth touched her skin. Her fiery words would silence when his lips met her, his fingers tracing up her arm slowly. He'd pull her to him, confessing everything that had gone on inside him since he talked to her, making sure she knew how much he ached for her. He'd pull that blue scrunchie out of her hair, tangling his fingers within her tresses as he whispered the devotion he'd given and the devotion he would give.
He'd hold her until the last possible moment, and then even then he'd make sure there would be another time just like this, where there was nothing in the world that could come between them.
It was her.
*Oh it's you Oh it's you Oh it's you Oh it's you Oh it's you Oh it's you... *
Draco looked up to where Ginny had just been standing, only to find her gone.
She was gone.
Perhaps it was best. They were on different sides, from different pasts. Things like that only existed in story books that kids were given for Christmas. What happened in reality was much different.
It shouldn't be, Draco thought as he noticed the blue scrunchie. Finally, after a few moments of hesitation, he moved forward, and kneeled on the carpet. Grabbing the hair accessory, he could feel Ginny all over it. A sigh escaped from him, and he stood again.
It wasn't meant to be, and frankly, it shouldn't be. His fist curled around the scrunchie. But it felt so right.
And besides, it was her.
A fic about Draco Malfoy's unreturned feelings for Ginny Weasley. Goes with the song "It's You" by Michelle Branch.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Draco Malfoy could feel the room spin the moment the owl arrived. The letter attached was a hardly a mystery. Far from it, actually. His father's plans for the new attack, of course. The War was raging, and it seemed each side had it's own version of cloak and dagger exchange, and while those like Potter and the Weasleys flaunted their loyalty to Dumbledore daily, Draco Malfoy and a few of his fellow Slytherins knew where the true devotions were.
He was seventeen, capable of his own decisions. Decisions that may lead him into a War with equal chances of triumph for both sides, a War that he may go into but may not return from. Decisions that could shame the whole Malfoy name, if they were ever discovered.
It was her.
*Cause tomorrow never comes
I would want just one thing I would sell it to the stars and sun
I would let it for the world to see
And it's you
The light changes when you're in the room
Oh it's you
Oh it's you*
His eyes followed Ginny Weasley as she walked across the Great Hall, her shiny red hair falling just below her shoulders as a blue hair scrunchie dangled loosely. Her tattered bookbag was settled across her shoulder, and her eyes set firmly ahead as she strided across the room. Her shoes were brown slip-ons, and although the pink socks paired with them made some students cringe with distaste, and normally it would have been the same for him, but somehow it didn't bother him much. Not with her at least.
It was her.
It was second year when he met Ginny Weasley. She had been rushing through the halls, trying to get to her own class while he was taking his time getting to the Charms room. She was running along, pulling her grey robes up as she tried to keep her books and parchments balanced in her arms. Her red hair was slightly disarrayed, and her eyebrows were etched together in focus.
He slowed his pace slightly, raising his eyebrow as he watched her stumble along. "Having a bit of trouble there, Weasley?"
She looked at him, her face somewhat puzzled as if she were trying to place him. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as she searched his face. Finally she closed her mouth, a rather cynical expression hidden behind her usual innocent face. "Oh. Malfoy, is it? If you must know, I'm coming along fine, thank you."
"Any fool could see that you can hardly hold yourself up, Weasel." A muscle below his eye twitched. "Er...need any...help?" The words were so foreign. When was the last time he'd used it? The time was so far off, he couldn't even remember when he last spoke them.
For the first time, Draco saw her face register in complete shock. "What?" She stuttered. "Help?"
"You heard me," He snapped. That, he supposed, was the mistake. He regained composure. "Do you need any?"
Her old Weasley flare came back, and her narrowed eyes sent an angry glare. "No, Malfoy. Go away." With that, she continued on, without even making another gesture or notice to him.
So what did he do? He tried to talk to her several times over the year, but each time he found himself with a similar reaction to that which he first recieved. Things got particularly nasty when he came upon the littlest Weasley composing a poem for Scarhead. He couldn't explain why that had pissed him off so much, but it had. His insults said between the two of them was too private to take out all his anger, to hurt her feelings as much as his were damaged by her writing to Potter. When he saw Potter and Ginny on the staircase, one of those bloody cupids in front of them, he needed to humiliate. He needed to. It was the way he released his feelings, the way he got revenge.
He couldn't blame Ginny for not liking him. He didn't deserve her affections, and he hadn't exactly been the most courteous person. After she had thrown that cursed boogey curse at him in fifth year, he must admit that he spent most of the week afterwards cursing her very name. The fact she existed.
And yet, she was something he worshipped. It was her.
*If tomorrow never comes
I would want just one wish
To kiss your quiet mouth
Trace the steps of my fingertips
And it's you
The light changes when you're in the room
Oh it's you*
Draco followed her after dinner. He watched her every move, gathering each movement she made. The letter was pushed to the back of his mind as it seemed Ginny became the only worth-while thing in the world.
He could imagine the breaths she'd take as his lips travelled up her neck, as his mouth touched her skin. Her fiery words would silence when his lips met her, his fingers tracing up her arm slowly. He'd pull her to him, confessing everything that had gone on inside him since he talked to her, making sure she knew how much he ached for her. He'd pull that blue scrunchie out of her hair, tangling his fingers within her tresses as he whispered the devotion he'd given and the devotion he would give.
He'd hold her until the last possible moment, and then even then he'd make sure there would be another time just like this, where there was nothing in the world that could come between them.
It was her.
*Oh it's you Oh it's you Oh it's you Oh it's you Oh it's you Oh it's you... *
Draco looked up to where Ginny had just been standing, only to find her gone.
She was gone.
Perhaps it was best. They were on different sides, from different pasts. Things like that only existed in story books that kids were given for Christmas. What happened in reality was much different.
It shouldn't be, Draco thought as he noticed the blue scrunchie. Finally, after a few moments of hesitation, he moved forward, and kneeled on the carpet. Grabbing the hair accessory, he could feel Ginny all over it. A sigh escaped from him, and he stood again.
It wasn't meant to be, and frankly, it shouldn't be. His fist curled around the scrunchie. But it felt so right.
And besides, it was her.