*~~~Chapter 2~~Thoughts~~~*
Draco Malfoy lay in bed. His dorm mates were all fast asleep, but Draco couldn't sleep. He didn't know what made him do it... When he had spotted Ginny sitting by the lake yesterday, something inside him had snapped. He had run to his room, and found himself spending hours composing a letter to the young girl. He had grabbed the glass dragon statue he had bought in Diagon Alley a month ago, and putting it in a box, had mailed it to the Gryffindor redhead with a school owl.
Indeed, he had felt something for her the second he has set eyes on her, but he had known there was no way his father would approve of this. Ginny was a Weasley, and the Malfoys and the Weasleys had been enemies for as long as he could remember. But his parents were gone now. They had both been captured and put into Azkaban a month ago when Harry Potter had managed to defeat the Dark Lord.
Draco was still amazed that the Boy-Who-Lived had actually killed the most evil wizard of all times. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs had been ecstatic with joy, and though the Slytherins put on a good act in the Great Hall, groaning and cursing could be heard all over the House. Draco, though, surprisingly, felt the same feelings as the Gryffindors, only in his heart, they were ten times greater. He was stunned by the sudden realization: he was free to do whatever he liked. There was no one to stop him, no father to punish him, no Voldemort to fear and serve.
When Harry walked by, he had to be careful in order to apply the mask of cold arrogance onto his face. He wanted to walk up and thank the boy for setting him free, but who would ever believe him? Who would believe that a Slytherin would thank a Gryffindor? No one, that was who.
But now, he had sent Ginny the letter. She would probably show it to someone, and his secret would be out. But a part of him felt deliriously happy. That happiness never showed on his face though; he had been taught since he was little never to show his emotions. His parents would punish him if he dared to laugh or cry. In their opinion, that was too much of a display of feelings. He had been brought up to seem cold and heartless, and it was a habit hard to alter.
He sighed as he stopped his flow of rushing thoughts. He felt faintly drowsy, and soon managed to fall asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny sat in Professor Trawleny's class, listening to the teacher mumble on about the importance of the picking of names. "Your future may change depending on the structure and the meaning of the names your parents have chosen."
"Your homework," the teacher said at the end of class. "Is to pick a certain grade and a certain house. Make a list of at least ten people and explain the meaning of their names. Class dismissed."
That evening, Ginny sat in the library, flipping through old volumes of books. Her mind kept wandering. She had recieved many other gifts since the first gift she had recieved a month ago. Each note was signed with he letter 'D' and the picture of a dragon. She had instantly liked the person, whoever it was. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she thought of the last note she had recieved. There had been a bouquet of flowers along with the note.
She sighed and turned back to her studies. This was fascinating. She discovered that the ending of Voldemort's name meant death. How interesting. She made a note in her workbook and looked at the next name she had written down. Pansy Parkinson. According to the book she was reading, pansy was a type of flower with velvety petals in many shades of color. Tom Riddle. This was, she knew, Voldemort's real name. She had thought it would be interesting not to just study the names of current students, but also of students of the generation past.
Flipping to the back of the book, she discovered that tom meant the male of a cat. Next name was Severus Snape. Severus meant 'stern', 'strict' and 'hard'. Next: Albus Dumbledore. That meant 'white' and 'bumblebee' in latin. Next name... Draco Malfoy. The word Draco meant dragon... Next name...
Suddenly, Ginny stopped, gasping. Realization hit her with the force of a brick wall. Draco.... dragon... She once again remembered the letter signed with a fancy 'D' and an imprint of a dragon... Could it be? Could it be Draco Malfoy, the person everyone refered to as 'that arrogant git', be the one who had so tenderly written her those notes? More importantly, could she really like a person with such a cold reputation?
Ginny didn't know. For now, her head was a hurricane of thoughts. She couldn't stand being in the library any longer. She wanted to scream, to run with the wind and forget her troubles, if only for a few minutes. Grabbing her books, she ran out of the room and raced towards the Lake to think about what she had just learned. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`
Draco Malfoy lay in bed. His dorm mates were all fast asleep, but Draco couldn't sleep. He didn't know what made him do it... When he had spotted Ginny sitting by the lake yesterday, something inside him had snapped. He had run to his room, and found himself spending hours composing a letter to the young girl. He had grabbed the glass dragon statue he had bought in Diagon Alley a month ago, and putting it in a box, had mailed it to the Gryffindor redhead with a school owl.
Indeed, he had felt something for her the second he has set eyes on her, but he had known there was no way his father would approve of this. Ginny was a Weasley, and the Malfoys and the Weasleys had been enemies for as long as he could remember. But his parents were gone now. They had both been captured and put into Azkaban a month ago when Harry Potter had managed to defeat the Dark Lord.
Draco was still amazed that the Boy-Who-Lived had actually killed the most evil wizard of all times. The Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs had been ecstatic with joy, and though the Slytherins put on a good act in the Great Hall, groaning and cursing could be heard all over the House. Draco, though, surprisingly, felt the same feelings as the Gryffindors, only in his heart, they were ten times greater. He was stunned by the sudden realization: he was free to do whatever he liked. There was no one to stop him, no father to punish him, no Voldemort to fear and serve.
When Harry walked by, he had to be careful in order to apply the mask of cold arrogance onto his face. He wanted to walk up and thank the boy for setting him free, but who would ever believe him? Who would believe that a Slytherin would thank a Gryffindor? No one, that was who.
But now, he had sent Ginny the letter. She would probably show it to someone, and his secret would be out. But a part of him felt deliriously happy. That happiness never showed on his face though; he had been taught since he was little never to show his emotions. His parents would punish him if he dared to laugh or cry. In their opinion, that was too much of a display of feelings. He had been brought up to seem cold and heartless, and it was a habit hard to alter.
He sighed as he stopped his flow of rushing thoughts. He felt faintly drowsy, and soon managed to fall asleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ginny sat in Professor Trawleny's class, listening to the teacher mumble on about the importance of the picking of names. "Your future may change depending on the structure and the meaning of the names your parents have chosen."
"Your homework," the teacher said at the end of class. "Is to pick a certain grade and a certain house. Make a list of at least ten people and explain the meaning of their names. Class dismissed."
That evening, Ginny sat in the library, flipping through old volumes of books. Her mind kept wandering. She had recieved many other gifts since the first gift she had recieved a month ago. Each note was signed with he letter 'D' and the picture of a dragon. She had instantly liked the person, whoever it was. Her cheeks reddened slightly as she thought of the last note she had recieved. There had been a bouquet of flowers along with the note.
She sighed and turned back to her studies. This was fascinating. She discovered that the ending of Voldemort's name meant death. How interesting. She made a note in her workbook and looked at the next name she had written down. Pansy Parkinson. According to the book she was reading, pansy was a type of flower with velvety petals in many shades of color. Tom Riddle. This was, she knew, Voldemort's real name. She had thought it would be interesting not to just study the names of current students, but also of students of the generation past.
Flipping to the back of the book, she discovered that tom meant the male of a cat. Next name was Severus Snape. Severus meant 'stern', 'strict' and 'hard'. Next: Albus Dumbledore. That meant 'white' and 'bumblebee' in latin. Next name... Draco Malfoy. The word Draco meant dragon... Next name...
Suddenly, Ginny stopped, gasping. Realization hit her with the force of a brick wall. Draco.... dragon... She once again remembered the letter signed with a fancy 'D' and an imprint of a dragon... Could it be? Could it be Draco Malfoy, the person everyone refered to as 'that arrogant git', be the one who had so tenderly written her those notes? More importantly, could she really like a person with such a cold reputation?
Ginny didn't know. For now, her head was a hurricane of thoughts. She couldn't stand being in the library any longer. She wanted to scream, to run with the wind and forget her troubles, if only for a few minutes. Grabbing her books, she ran out of the room and raced towards the Lake to think about what she had just learned. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~`