Chapter 4

I suddenly found myself missing the stream of chatter bubbling from her lips. The silence was so still it gave a time-freezing affect to the awkward moment. For one glorious moment Hermione looked as if she were about to say something, but in the end she just closed her mouth, still staring at me with wide eyes.

"You can say something Herm," I stated… no, pleaded.

"Like what?" Her tone was suddenly icy. An urgent need to clarify was clawing at me, trying to escape. I took a deep breath, mentally processing an appropriate explanation. "No. Ginny, don't. I didn't say anything, but I'm worried about you. We all are. You're out of control, and I know that sounds overdramatic," She said quickly, giving me a pointed look, because I was trying to talk over her, "but it's true. You've been dating ten guys a week, I don't even want to know what you've been doing with them, but I have a pretty good idea. What if…something…happened, with one of those muggle boys? How would you explain who you are to them?" I raised a disgusted eyebrow. This was not the reaction I had anticipated. "But Malfoy, Ginny? Honestly! He's a--," Hermione uttered several words I had never thought I would hear her say. I couldn't help but feel a distinct feeling of pride at being the cause of those words. Must tell Ron. Her ton softened, "I don't know if you planned this to make Harry jealous, but—,"

"What?!" I yelped. This was way too much. "Hermione! First of all, I don't give a damn what Harry thinks, Second I'm not paying him to go out with me or anything; we met in a pub…and I like him." Hermione raised an eyebrow.

"Ginny…I just think….It's…unlikely that he would go out with you unless he's got something up his sleeve." I couldn't help but feel a little offended at this.

"Why? What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. But he's the enemy, remember? We hate him, and he hates us."

"He doesn't know who I am."

"Excuse me?"

"He thinks my name is Ella." Hermione snorted disdainfully.

"My god Hermione! Just because you and my brother are having problems doesn't mean you have to be mad at me too," I cried angrily. She looked me in the eye, and slowly, her face softened.

"Sorry Gin. I'm just trying to protect you. He could be dangerous," It was my turn to snort.

"I'm telling you he's not. Honestly, the way you guys treat me. You forget that I'm only one year younger than you. He's changed. You remember the article," She chose to only acknowledge the latter part of what I had voiced.

"How could I forget? Ron had it framed. It's true then?" I hesitated. Was it true?

"I'm not completely sure." She gave me another one of her skeptical looks. I continued quickly, before she could begin to talk again. "But it has to be…it's the only explanation. If you met him you'd get it…he has changed Hermione, just trust me, okay?"

"You should ask him." There was something wrong with this girl.

"Oh, right, sure Herm. What the hell do you propose I'd say? 'I had a great time on our date Draco, oh, and by the way, did you by any chance watch your mother murdered by your father?'" I said sarcastically, a ditzy smile plastered on my face. Hermione gave me another look.

"You should at least tell him who you are," She was right.

"I know. I will. I'll invite him over tomorrow."

"You'll invite him over? To your house?" Hermione gave me a McGonagall look.

"No Herm, I thought we could have a cozy conversation out in the hallway." Another look, "Yes, I'll invite him to my house."

Hey Draco, I was hoping you could drop by my flat sometime tomorrow. It's in Dwight; Number 7, Hebden Drive. There's an old muggle woman on the first floor, and a muggle family down the hall from me, so you'll have to apparate to the Smoldering Toad, and walk the rest of the way; it's not far. There's something I need to tell you.

'Ella'

Lame, in my opinion, but writing with Hermione hovering over your shoulder, throwing out grammar tips, is not an easy thing to do. Anyhow, I awoke to Hermione's shriek. Rushing out into the living room, I saw my tousle-haired friend sitting up, sheets and blankets tangled around her, pillows on the floor. A jet black screech owl, whose feathers shone an ink green in the sunlight pouring in through the window, was looking down at her, very unimpressed.

"Sorry Gin…just wasn't ready for that first thing in the morning," she breathed. The owl gave her one last scrutinizing look, before swiftly gliding over to me, perching on my shoulder. I knew what she meant. I couldn't help but tilt my head a little away from it. Its beady red eyes were eying my neck, sharp beak glinting ominously. It crawled closer to my head. I froze, not daring to shoo it away. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw its face, complete with razor sharp mouth, leaning closer to me. I stood, rigid, expecting the worst. I was surprised at a light tickling sensation as it gently started to fiddle with, and clean my hair. I let out a laugh of relief. I held out my opposite arm, and it hopped on, outstretching its leg. I recognized the letter I had written the previous night. Scrawled quickly below my own writing was a single sentence from Draco.

I'll stop by around noon

Damn. I had hoped for some sort of poetical reply, so I could prove to Hermione that he had indeed changed for the better. Hermione was looking quizzically at me. I handed her the letter, and glanced at the clock. 11:02. Hermione was also looking at it.

"I think I'd better go find Ron." She said softly, obviously not in any hurry to see Draco again. I nodded faintly in agreement, my mind on something else entirely. After a quick panic from Hermione, who thought she had lost her wand, she had apparated. The Weasley clock on my wall showed her at 'Ron's house'. I collapsed on the couch. I couldn't do it. I couldn't confess. He would hate me; he'd never want to see me again. But I had to. I couldn't keep lying to him. I groaned and covered my face with my hands.

After a quick shower, I pulled on what I thought were suitable clothes, and ate a quick breakfast. I sat back down on the couch. Usually a source of comfort, the squashy material felt hard and uncomfortable. I fidgeted. My palms were uncharacteristically sweaty, my heartbeat was quick, my stomach fluttering. My contemplations of worse-case-scenarios were abruptly interrupted by a knock on the door.

For a few moments, I seriously considered simply not answering it. I bit my lip, stood up, and abruptly sat back down. The knocking grew louder. Heart in my throat, I flung it open. Wow. His clothes were casual, hair somewhat slicked. Again, stray wisps fell into those mysterious eyes. He took in my fretting expression. I loved how his eyes traveled slowly over me, as if to create a visual memory. Up my body, across my neck, over my lips, to meet my eyes.

"Don't look so happy to see me." I smiled weakly; what had I gotten myself into? I held the door open, shut it behind him, and wordlessly motioned for him to sit down. In a smooth motion he leaned back on the couch, hands behind his head, crossing his feet on the coffee table. I smiled again; some things never changed. "So…what did you want to talk to me about?" He put his feet on the floor, and sat up straighter, watching me intently. I had lost all ability to speak. I sat down beside him.

"Me," I managed to squeak. Real smooth, Ginny. He cocked an eyebrow,

"…Ok…" It had just struck me how conceited I sounded. I winced.

"I mean. I-that-El-…that's not what I meant," Well…we're on a roll here, aren't we? A smile twitched on his lips. I took a deep breath. Words were not coming to me; no witty remarks, or smooth explanations. I was blank. I looked up at his face. Pools of silvery-grey looked encouragingly back at me. "Do you know who I am?"

"You're Ella…?" I had not given him a last name. He flushed slightly and tried again, in a more confident voice. "You're Ella." It was a statement. I shook my head. His eyes were locked firmly onto mine.

"You know who I am." I tried to say steadfastly, but instead it came out breathy. His eyes were penetrating deeply into mine. A deathly silence filled the room. Again, his eyes looked oddly shut off. I knew he was thinking hard, venturing into memories he had tried for a long time to forget; but I could not see thoughts beyond the icy grey.

"Weasley." His voice was low and distant. A painful fire was sparking somewhere inside. Anger I had been waiting years to let out. A stream of curses was on the tip of my tongue. I swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.

"I have a name," I hissed. He did not reply. My vocal chords were strung taut, waiting to snap in an angry shout. But at the look on his face, I abruptly stopped. The look I had seen so many times; every day when I looked in the mirror. Hatred. Not for me, not for Harry, or anyone else that haunted his memories; Hatred of himself. Out of the blue, I felt close to tears. I turned words over in my brain, trying not to say something lame. "Look, Draco. Can't we just…start over or something?" And that wasn't lame at all, Weasley. Faltering slightly, I continued my babbling, searching desperately for a point, "I mean we had a great time before when you didn't know who I was, and know that you do know who I am it shouldn't be any different right? I gave you a second chance when I knew who you were, so—,"

"—Ginny." I stopped, mid breath. The apologetic look in his eyes matched mine. He seemed to struggle with something for a moment. "I'm… sorry." Two words I would have never thought could enter his vocabulary. Sure, it didn't begin to make up for what he had put me through at school; but it was much more that I had expected. I shook my head vigorously.

"No. I should be sorry. I lied to you, but that's just because I thought you wouldn't--,"

"Ginny," He sounded impatient, but a smile was curving on his lips.

"And I do like you, but I--," His hand resting on the back of the couch was snaking slowly around my shoulders to clamp over my mouth. I tried to laugh, but the result was a muffled snort. He chuckled smugly, a light dancing in his eyes. I couldn't resist; I bit lightly on his thumb. He jumped back looking slightly shocked, that puppy-dog look on his face again.

"You bit me!" I laughed, backing away, out of his reach. He chuckled, advancing slowly. He was much to close, but my feet didn't seem to hold the power to move. His strong build was inches from mine. I seemed to be having a slight breathing problem. I could smell soft, but flavorful cologne, could feel his warm breath on my face. I tilted my head up to his, a stray piece of his hair tickling my forehead. There was an abrupt knock on the door. As if waking from a trance, the haze cleared, the glass shattered. The blurry, perfect moment seemed unreal, now that our attention was brought back to earth.  

"Gin? You in there?" It was Ron.

(A/N: So it's much longer that the previous ones, but stick with me! Thanks so much to all that reviewed! Thanks for the tip, seekerpeeker, I changed my settings, so that logging in to review is not required :D )