A/N: This is a really crappy chapter. R/R, nevertheless, and I shall love you.

Chapter 6: Running

I took a deep breath, my mouth feeling dry. ' I-I have to go.' I whispered hurriedly, grabbing my things with urgency. The only thought that had been going through my head: I don't need this problem right now…

If only I had tried to talk to him. If only, if only… Maybe if I had, this wouldn't have happened. If I had just taken the time to talk to him, maybe I wouldn't have ever seen his horrible death. Was this guilt I was feeling?

I wiped tears away from my face sloppily, and found that there were no more. I still couldn't comprehend anything that had just happened, and it seemed like a horrible nightmare.

I was left alone, hidden behind the draped curtains of my four-poster bed, while the world behind me was in chaos. Harry Potter was dead.

He would be someone only in the history of magic, with an end so tragic that no one would dare speak of it openly.

My mouth was dry with horror, my hands still trembling, and yet, there I sat. I can't describe how I felt at that moment. If I really could have felt much, it would've been pain so great, so many emotions the English language didn't have words for. And that's why I had to numb everything. Numb so much of reality, that all I felt was blank confusion, and the distant knowledge that someone important had died this night.

I don't know how I fell asleep. It was a restless one, and I didn't want to go to sleep at all, because I would soon wake up to face everything that had really happened.

------------------------------------+

Everything was draped in black. Rather depressing color, it was. I stood out like a bright light against the night, and I sat calmly in the chair, staring ahead of me. I suppose I would've looked somewhat similar to the way Harry had looked. Blank.

They stared at me with urgency, rubbing their chins thoughtfully, constantly jotting down notes on their scrolls of parchment. Thankfully they made no pathetic attempt to console me. I don't know where everyone else was, but the questions these strange men asked me reminded me of the night before, when everything had stopped—and begun again.

A scream. Hermione saw him, eyes wide with horror as I reached up to her, my hands drenched in thick blood. But she didn't see me. She only saw Harry, lying dead on the floor. Her hands flew up to her mouth and tears began springing out of her eyes. She reached for him, clutching at his wet robes, caressing his face for some response, but there was nothing. Soon, her screams were heard by the others and plenty more came…Witches and Wizards and Professors and students and the Headmaster. All crowded around me, despairing over the horrible loss, and I don't believe anyone really thought that it had indeed happened. Slowly, their eyes darted around toward me, and their wary eyes accused me for his death, hated me for it. I looked to Ron and grabbed his hand. He was my big brother.

'I didn't do it, Ron…' I whispered. He looked away.

'Did you do it, Ginny?' He asked, eyes wide. I looked up at him, eyes narrowed hatefully. How dare he ask such a question? He was a fool.

'No.'

He sighed and stood up straight, beginning to walk around the room, staring off into space as if deciding what to inquire me next. But before he asked me anything else, he nodded to his partner, and with a slight bow, his friend left the room, the door clicking shut. He stopped in front of me and kneeled before me, as if his disposition would do better than standing up, towering over me—intimidating me. The thoughts, the idle, bemused thoughts that were going through my head were almost frightening. I was supposed to feel utter despair. But I didn't. I thought of them as thoughts that weren't quite sane, because I was so shocked that it was going to take a while for the blow to really affect me.

'Then who did it?' He asked. I looked up at him fiercely.

'It was suicide.' I muttered softly, fists clenching. A blatant answer, but it was the only way I knew how. He sighed, as if frustrated, but he didn't go. Repositioning himself, he licked his lips and allowed himself a small smile.

'Suicide?' He repeated. I nodded quickly, looking down at the floor again, my red hair covering my face from view.

'Can you tell me everything that happened last night, Ginny?' He asked me lightly, as if he were only inquiring the time of day. Surprisingly, I found that I tried to recall what had really happened. I didn't know why—I certainly didn't owe this man anything. But as I sat there, blinking rapidly, I saw flashes of the night before. I began to remember again his face smiling at me, and the way the sword had shined against the light that had come from no where, and I remembered the first tear that had dropped when I saw him fall.

'I…ran up the stairs and went through the portrait hole…he was there…' I started slowly, hesitantly, closing my eyes and trying to remember more.

'How did you know he was here?' He asked. I blinked again, and I answered.

'I…didn't know.' I said. ' It was instinct.' It was crazy—it sounded crazy, and no one would believe me. I knew he didn't believe me. He was silent, and I could feel his eyes boring into my face, amazed at the prospect of knowing that Harry was here in the common room.

'And then what happened?' He asked, and his voice was the same tone as before. He talked to me as if I was insane, and I think he was right.

'And then…' I struggled with my words, eyes shut close tightly, and I could feel the cold beads of sweat rolling down my temple. 'And then…' I tried again. I saw his dead face, saw his smile, and heard the silent whisper of goodbye. I was reliving the night before, and god it was hard.

'He died.' My lips trembled. My hands grabbed the sides of the chair, and I took a deep breath. I looked up and glared at him. He gaped at me, and his quill was still.

'Bastard.' I spat, getting up from the chair abruptly. 'Why are you doing this to me? What is there to know?' He stared blankly, quite speechless.

'We want to know what happened.' He said calmly, though his eyes darted from side to side, shifting uncomfortably. It was all a lie. He wanted to accuse me of killing him. They wanted to shun me, because they had no one else to blame. I didn't owe him an explanation—why, when he wouldn't listen?

'There's nothing to know.' I said. ' He died. Nothing I tell you will change that. I can't tell you anything if you won't listen.'

I walked out, leaving the stupid fool blinking in the Gryffindor common room.

My hands clutched at my hair as I ran down the stairs frantically, face flushed from the speed I was going at. It seemed as if I had been running a lot lately, but who wouldn't?

Running was so easy.

I ran to him. I ran downwards toward the dungeons and somehow weaved through the maze of cold, drafty corridors and found the final flight of stairs descending down to where the Slytherins dwelled. No one was in sight. There was nothing guarding the dungeons, and I ran in, hair flying out behind me, arms reaching out for him. He sat on the couch very much alone, and when his eyes flitted over to me, not even surprise registered into them. He merely dropped his books and embraced me tightly.

I don't know if it was any comfort, staying in his arms, because his hug did not warm me in the slightest.

'Get out of here.' He whispered in my ear. I barely heard him through the ringing in my ears. He grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the room, out in the cold corridors again.

When we were both distanced, he stared at me with something remotely like disgust, and from his pocket, he fished out a handkerchief. He handed me the small square of cloth, and I accepted it hastily. I was a mess, and I wiped away my tears with his handkerchief, and I could smell his scent, having buried my face in it.

And I thought, He would listen to me.

'They accuse you.' He muttered. I stared up at him, wiping my nose. His gaze turned directly to me, and he lifted my chin upwards, so that I stared straight into his cool eyes.

'Innocent little Virginia. The people that you love so much now shun you.' His words were soft and harsh. I hated how he was always right. I stared up at him with trembling lips, and my hands reached up to his neck, arms snaking around them as I clung to him.

And now, in my state of mind, he didn't seem like an enemy. He was wise and beautiful and he was my friend. He would help me. Nothing else mattered.

But suddenly, he pushed me away.

'You stupid girl. Look what you've done. I told you over again, and you didn't believe until now. You've ruined yourself and you have no one to blame but yourself. You were the one that was ignorant.'

'You have only me.' He smirked triumphantly, voice lowering to a whisper. He stepped closer to me, and let me wrap my arms around him again. I looked up at him with admiration, almost. That day, I would let him talk all he wanted, and I wouldn't mind at all. I stroked his cheek softly, marveling at just how cold he was.

It was me who kissed him that time, and it was a slow kiss. I was crazy to kiss him. It was only to taste a bit of something ethereal and sharp, something intoxicating so that I would be numb again. I used him because I had nothing else.

His lips brushed against my neck, and my lips parted as I felt a jolt of pleasure run down my spine. His lips quickly found mine again, and his tongue darted in, dominating, tasting of cinnamon and ice and mint, and everything that was intriguing. He taste like…Draco.

No one had ever kissed me like this. No one could kiss me like this except him. And while I clung to him, I couldn't think of anything other than how much I wanted to savor this moment forever, and not wake up and know that he only kissed me because he could.

He pulled away suddenly, eyes slightly fogged. He grabbed my arm and pulled me away from the corridor, down into the depths of his lair, where we were secure around four walls, and the air wasn't quite as cold.

I found myself staring up at him, panting from the excitement of it all as I lay on his soft bed, the curtains draped around us. His breaths were short and heavy but his gaze was still as fierce and full of suspicion and mystery as they had been before—so much cold gray. His light hair fell in his face carelessly, and his lips were tight with determination.

He was undoubtedly good-looking. And he made me go near crazy with desire to kiss him all night, to never let go of him. It was all I could think of as my hands touched him, as his arms went around my body. But it was wrong, and it wouldn't do any good for me to indulge in such things. It was only the rational side of me finally kicking in. It was for my own good; I didn't want to get hurt.

'Stop.' I managed to choke out at last. He complied. Surprisingly. He pulled away, lips pursed with disappointment as my small hands pushed against his bare chest. After a few moments of staring up at his stern profile, I managed to sit up, resting against the headboard of his bed. My voice shook as I spoke.

' I can't do this.' I whispered meekly. There was a small smirk on his face. He crawled toward me, until his face was a mere inch away from mine.

' Why can't you?' He asked. I looked away from him.

' Because, Draco…' I trailed off, suddenly feeling cold and so very naked. Because there was no foundation to this 'relationship', if you could even call it that. He was using me, and I didn't like the idea of that. His eyes glittered malignantly, probably knowing this.

' Scared?' He whispered in my ear, and I shivered even more.

'No.' I spat, cringing and trying to worm away from him. Suddenly, he turned around, and I saw him roll his eyes with annoyance. Grumbling to himself, he rummaged around the floor until he found his shirt. Moments later, he threw over my own shirt, and I stared almost forlornly at his crouched back, still able to taste his unique taste.

' God damn it, Ginny.' He sighed exasperatedly, turning around. His shoulders sagged, and he looked tired all of a sudden.

'You only have one life to live.' A frown crossed my face, but I didn't say anything. I knew what he meant. I should have felt proud of myself, because in a way, it was as if I had won a small battle against him. I had refused him, and at least that was pushing away some temptation, however trivial it seemed.

But as I watched him throughout the night, watched him working furiously at his desk, I felt a pang in my heart every now and then. I wondered if he perhaps felt something for me, if it was indeed possible. It seemed that now as I saw him scribbling away on his parchment lit only by dim candlelight, he seemed like every normal male. He seemed to have his own share of worries and troubles, and for once, I could almost see some weakness in him.

Shaking my head, I pushed every other thought away from my mind, surprised at how easy it was, and fell asleep in an almost guilty peace.

To Be Continued…

A/N: Next chapter: Ginny faces the world again, and drastic action must be taken…muahaha. Review?