Chapter 7

The First Cut is the Deepest

I would have given you all of my heart
but there's someone who's torn it apart
and he's taken just all that I have
but if you want I'll try to love again
baby, I'll try to love again, but I know...

the first cut is the deepest
baby I know
the first cut is the deepest
but when it comes to bein' lucky, he's cursed
when it comes to lovin' me, he's worst...

I still want you by my side
just to help me dry the tears that I've cried
and I'm sure gonna give you a try
if you want I'll try to love again, (try)
baby, I'll try to love again, but i know...

the first cut is the deepest
baby I know
the first cut is the deepest
but when it comes to bein' lucky, he's cursed
but when it comes to lovin' me, he's worst...

Ginny glanced over her shoulder as she slipped into the shelves at the very back of the library. She needed some time alone to think and contemplate. She needed to be away from the chatter and attention of the common room and away from steel grey eyes that made her catch her breath.

            She slid down a wall and buried her head in her arms. Ginny had never meant to be a bad daughter or a bad Gryffindor. It had been ingrained in her from a young age that you simply did not associate with Slytherins, past or present. They represented all that was cruel in pure blood society and Gryffindors were above that. You could be a pure blood without declaring feud on all Muggle born – you simply had to be open minded. Slytherins were to be disparaged – you certainly weren't to kiss one in the infirmary. Not standing in the window, nor on his bed, chair or against the wall.

            The memories of the last few nights made Ginny blush just thinking about them. When Draco had first been brought into the infirmary she had felt a mixture of pity and a sense that he had gotten what he deserved. She was certainly sorry that his family was so horrid to force such a barbaric mark on him, but it was clear in her mind that Draco Malfoy was, and always would be, a prat. Being the youngest sister of six prats, albeit better tempered and kinder prats, she held little sympathy for such.

            But daily she was forced to see that Draco was so much more than a prat. He was a boy, like all her brothers – who had been badly scared and needed a shoulder to cry on. How she had gone from shoulder to snogging partner was beyond her.

            Well, that was a lie. Draco Malfoy was a drop dead gorgeous prat. She would have to be certifiable to not at least give it a shot with him. Have a little fling, then giggle as he would look agog at her – that she would be so daring to deny Draco Malfoy!

            Except, Ginny no longer even thought she would be able to deny. She wasn't sure she wanted to. All too quickly – Draco was more than a patient whom she comforted. He was the object of nearly every waking thought; the last few days had produced grades to prove it. The way his eyes lit up whenever she entered the infirmary guided her steps back there each and every night. The utter safety and warmth she felt in his arms kept her there for hours on end.

            Ginny stood as she sighed softly. She wished that she could be a proper fifteen year old in the midst of her first relationship, joyful and innocent – with a bent to become less innocent. But the chills that wormed up her spine when she looked at Draco sometimes held her back.

            She was chilled when she looked in his eyes, and saw a proud young man – and was all too reminded of Tom. He was a Slytherin, sometimes just looking at his scarf on the bed jolted her back in time – to when a young man wearing a similar scarf walked along side her in her dreams.

            Ginny had been wary of most men since her first year. She was especially wary of blonde men since she had looked up at Lucius Malfoy as he smiled at her – clutching her cauldron against her chin, which unbeknownst to her contained a very peculiar diary.

            She would never be that child again. She would never be a carefree girl in the midst of courtship and she would never let her children go out to play with great ease. Tom had stolen that from her as surely as he had sapped away her life force, along with her self esteem.

            Why would any one want Ginny? She had carroty red hair and wasn't very interesting. Those words had swirled around her head as she had stuck her tongue between her teeth and scratched upon the creamy parchment that first night at Hogwarts. What a surprise to that self conscious young girl when someone had begun to write back. She had always thought that her only unique attribute in her family was that she was the baby and the girl – together a dangerous combination in the protective feelings that arose in her brothers.

            Not protective enough, as they had let her slip by them each night on her way to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

            Ginny hadn't been there since her first year and had no intention to revisit it. Ever.

            There were too many memories there. Cold water and damp stone. The big snake and the boy – standing there, waiting for her. Tom. Her best friend and worst enemy all wrapped up into one. He said that he loved her as he tried to rip away her soul.  If Ginny ever could – she'd lay every curse she could on him. Didn't matter the consequences, she'd have no problem calling out Avada Kedavra should be presented the opportunity. She knew this now. But then - she'd had no idea until it was too late.

            She had been so scared.

            She was still scared now.

            She needed to be safe.

            She needed Draco.

            Setting aside every memory of Lucius Malfoy except for that he too had hurt Draco, she grabbed her bag and nearly ran from the library, ignoring Madam Pince's hiss to slow down. Ginny ran through the halls, turning the corners blindly. She pushed open the infirmary doors and with a sob flung herself towards the second bed on the left.

            Draco gathered her close as she started to cry against his shoulder.

            "Angel – what happened?" he asked softly.

            She merely shook her head and he let it go, letting her cry it out. When she calmed, she looked up at him with red rimmed eyes.

            "I was remembering…"

            His eyes flashed as he pressed a kiss against her temple. "There's no need to. He can't touch you again."

            Her eyes were far too old for her face as she shook her head sadly. "Doesn't matter – the scars still hurt."

            Draco looked down at his own scarred arm. "Will it always hurt?"

            Ginny cuddled up against him as she interlaced her fingers into his own. "I hope not."

            "Me too," was his quiet echo and then the two were silent, content to try to heal together.