September twenty-first, late afternoon
The joy of life is in the details. Today was cold and rainy, the sort that makes you want to cuddle up with a good book, a bright red apple and a ratty old blanket in front of a roaring fire. I have been swamped with work and did not come home on time because of it. I was dripping and red nosed from my cold when I finally reached my doorstep. I headed for the bedroom without looking up from the post and the pile of soggy work I brought home with me.
And so I walked straight into the arms of a gorgeous blonde man.
Warm and smelling of earth and pine needles, which was a lovely change from his normal posh smell; he wrapped himself around me and peppered my nose with kisses. 'One for each freckle' he murmured, before capturing my mouth. When we finally broke apart he was just as damp as I was and together we freshened up in a steamy hot bath.
He had clearly spent a long time making the seduction perfect. There were candles and roses, chilled white wine and chocolate covered fruit, opal bubbles and scented water spelled to stay balmy. I sank into his charms and delighted in every second he devoted to me. But looking back on it now, I can see that he is up to no good.
Draco has not attempted to play debonair suitor since Japan.
Japan. All those unwelcome memories will not let me be. Ignoring our past is not the way to fix the flaws in our relationship. I have danced around my hurts and pride for long enough with him to be able to say without any qualms that he is a talented partner indeed. Draco refuses to touch my sensibilities or offer any offence, but he will not let me smooth over the wrinkles either. He has outmaneuvered me and so I must choke on my reservations and put my neck once more on the block.
I am not sure how to go about it, though.
Should I confront him with my new perspective, or try to slowly inject it into our daily life? The easy way would be to allow him broach the subject and let it seem like his wooing did the trick, but the thought of that does not sit well with me. Since my all too unpleasant brush with dark magic, I have been determined to always be upfront and honest.
Dear God, I am at the point of being prepared to confess my darkest moments to him.
Lord forgive me, but I have never shared the events that occurred my first year at Hogwarts with anyone. I did try. I offered Harry the chance to exchange secrets, but he rejected the idea out of hand. At the time I felt that if he, who had such similar encounters with the Dark Lord as I, would so easily brush aside what happened to me then no one else would be eager to listen as well. By the time I was old enough to see the defect in my logic I was no longer willing to confront the past myself, and so I put it away, locked it deep in my stomach and tried to never let it bother me again.
But here he is, so in love and so willing to share life with me. I cannot let him go on as he has without telling him the truth. How much does he know? Draco has made it clear that he was never a close confident of his father. Is he aware of the fact that I was almost murdered by that man?
Things are about to get messy.
~}~}~@
He looked at her bowed head and wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms. He reached out to her, but stopped himself. She needed to do this said a little voice in the back of his mind. She needs to vent, to let out all the emotions that have built up over the years.
The first part of their conversation had taken well over four hours. He had not realized she had been involved in his father's half baked scheme to resurrect Voldemort, but he was not surprised. The thought of her dying made his chest tighten almost as much as that of Potter being the one to save her. No wonder she had pledged life long love to the prat. He felt the tick in his check start up again, and prayed for the strength to let her have her say.
Ginny took a ragged breath and straighten her spine. She bit her bottom lip and looked into his quicksilver eyes. "It was akin to rape Draco. At first I had no memory of what was going on, part of Tom's spell, but once he was gone they came back. And it was not the sweet sort of drifting in of them. Oh no, I got them all at once. Things I never wanted to see, rituals and spells that only the foulest of our community use, and I had done them."
Her voice weakened and the tears that had been threatening all night started to fall. She shuddered and placed a balled up fist to her mouth. Draco gave in to the urge and pulled her to his chest. "Shhh darling." He kissed her head and crushed her in a tight embrace. He wanted to tell her he was there for her, but it did not feel right. She was deep inside her walls and he did not know if he was permitted to join her, so he rocked her back and forth whispering melodious words in her ear.
He did not know how long they stayed like that, but suddenly it was morning and his arm was tingling from having a sleeping Ginny on it. She looked so innocent, and he did not want to move her. He grimaced as his eye caught sight of the time. Damn! He thought. There is no way I can come in late today. Bugger.
He reached for his wand and floated his still sleeping lover to his bed. He tucked her in, left a note with a rose by her bed and spelled her breakfast to keep till she woke. Then, with one last kiss dropped onto her tangled hair, he closed the door and went to work.
~}~}~@
October fifth, I can see the stars
Anna and Blaise have been married for four years. Can you believe it? That means that it has been five years since I first started dating Draco. Where has the time gone to? I am the head of a now successful department and he is the Director of International Affairs. Two big wigs now, are not we? It makes me want to smile wickedly and make a snarky comment or two about the way the Ministry is being run these days. Saying things like that always makes Hermione's blood boil.
I saw Bill's eldest today. She is in her third year at Hogwarts and every bit as lovely as her mother. That silvery hair of hers makes it hard to believe her father is a Weasley. Evie is thirteen and thinks herself a Queen Bee. Was I ever that young? Surely I must have been; if not actually at that age then at some point before it. Our set seemed to have grown up too fast, a result of the dark times we were children in no doubt.
When Harry was her age he had already defeated the Dark Lord two times. I always wonder about Tom's obsession with Harry. Why did he keep coming back? I shared a part of my being with Tom and still do not understand what prompted him to bang his head against the wall that was Harry until he died from it. I guess if I am baffled by it then it must have truly perplexed those in the know at the time.
Pride is every man's downfall.
Even my splendid Draco suffers from it. He winks and bats his eyelashes at me as I am writing this, never knowing that I just defamed his consequence so. He blows little lips and sends them in my direction. I laugh and tell him to keep his kisses to himself. The love I feel for him is equaled by none.
I am in a quandary. I told him all my history and he in turn told me his, and now I feel like some sort of expectation was not met. Did I really think he would confess his love? Sometimes I feel so naïve.
Look at me, inventing more problems for myself. I swear I am not happy unless a part of my life is going horribly wrong. Let me fill your pages with no more of this; instead I will relish in the love of a good man.
October fourteenth, mid morning
I have a small amount of free time so I thought that I would write. There is little of import to relate, but I am planning a holiday this weekend and know I will not be writing again for quite some time.
Hum, what to say?
Draco and I have decided to move in together. We all but live in each other's flats as it is anyway. Mum took the news well. I think she is still plotting a Malfoy Weasley wedding, but somehow that thought does not rankle as it once did.
Draco wants me to come live in the Manor, but I told him only his wife should do that. He dropped little hints about how only his wife would be, but I ignored them. I said a catty little comment about how he is getting as bad as Marty use to be and he went all red in the face and huffy.
Marty. Now there is a topic to sink one's teeth into. He and Nadia have been stuck together like they are charmed that way. Jenny has taken to calling him daddy and the there of them have taken up residence in the country not to far from Anna and Blaise. The four of them joke about how it will be Draco and I next, but I see no reason to rush into the inevitable. The tips of Draco's ears always turn bright pink when he hears that, but I cannot tell if it is from embarrassment or a wistful longing.
Yes, I am evil. I know it. I am making that poor man go through hoop after hoop, but I do not want a petty misunderstanding to end us like it did last time.
The joy of life is in the details. Today was cold and rainy, the sort that makes you want to cuddle up with a good book, a bright red apple and a ratty old blanket in front of a roaring fire. I have been swamped with work and did not come home on time because of it. I was dripping and red nosed from my cold when I finally reached my doorstep. I headed for the bedroom without looking up from the post and the pile of soggy work I brought home with me.
And so I walked straight into the arms of a gorgeous blonde man.
Warm and smelling of earth and pine needles, which was a lovely change from his normal posh smell; he wrapped himself around me and peppered my nose with kisses. 'One for each freckle' he murmured, before capturing my mouth. When we finally broke apart he was just as damp as I was and together we freshened up in a steamy hot bath.
He had clearly spent a long time making the seduction perfect. There were candles and roses, chilled white wine and chocolate covered fruit, opal bubbles and scented water spelled to stay balmy. I sank into his charms and delighted in every second he devoted to me. But looking back on it now, I can see that he is up to no good.
Draco has not attempted to play debonair suitor since Japan.
Japan. All those unwelcome memories will not let me be. Ignoring our past is not the way to fix the flaws in our relationship. I have danced around my hurts and pride for long enough with him to be able to say without any qualms that he is a talented partner indeed. Draco refuses to touch my sensibilities or offer any offence, but he will not let me smooth over the wrinkles either. He has outmaneuvered me and so I must choke on my reservations and put my neck once more on the block.
I am not sure how to go about it, though.
Should I confront him with my new perspective, or try to slowly inject it into our daily life? The easy way would be to allow him broach the subject and let it seem like his wooing did the trick, but the thought of that does not sit well with me. Since my all too unpleasant brush with dark magic, I have been determined to always be upfront and honest.
Dear God, I am at the point of being prepared to confess my darkest moments to him.
Lord forgive me, but I have never shared the events that occurred my first year at Hogwarts with anyone. I did try. I offered Harry the chance to exchange secrets, but he rejected the idea out of hand. At the time I felt that if he, who had such similar encounters with the Dark Lord as I, would so easily brush aside what happened to me then no one else would be eager to listen as well. By the time I was old enough to see the defect in my logic I was no longer willing to confront the past myself, and so I put it away, locked it deep in my stomach and tried to never let it bother me again.
But here he is, so in love and so willing to share life with me. I cannot let him go on as he has without telling him the truth. How much does he know? Draco has made it clear that he was never a close confident of his father. Is he aware of the fact that I was almost murdered by that man?
Things are about to get messy.
~}~}~@
He looked at her bowed head and wanted nothing more than to gather her into his arms. He reached out to her, but stopped himself. She needed to do this said a little voice in the back of his mind. She needs to vent, to let out all the emotions that have built up over the years.
The first part of their conversation had taken well over four hours. He had not realized she had been involved in his father's half baked scheme to resurrect Voldemort, but he was not surprised. The thought of her dying made his chest tighten almost as much as that of Potter being the one to save her. No wonder she had pledged life long love to the prat. He felt the tick in his check start up again, and prayed for the strength to let her have her say.
Ginny took a ragged breath and straighten her spine. She bit her bottom lip and looked into his quicksilver eyes. "It was akin to rape Draco. At first I had no memory of what was going on, part of Tom's spell, but once he was gone they came back. And it was not the sweet sort of drifting in of them. Oh no, I got them all at once. Things I never wanted to see, rituals and spells that only the foulest of our community use, and I had done them."
Her voice weakened and the tears that had been threatening all night started to fall. She shuddered and placed a balled up fist to her mouth. Draco gave in to the urge and pulled her to his chest. "Shhh darling." He kissed her head and crushed her in a tight embrace. He wanted to tell her he was there for her, but it did not feel right. She was deep inside her walls and he did not know if he was permitted to join her, so he rocked her back and forth whispering melodious words in her ear.
He did not know how long they stayed like that, but suddenly it was morning and his arm was tingling from having a sleeping Ginny on it. She looked so innocent, and he did not want to move her. He grimaced as his eye caught sight of the time. Damn! He thought. There is no way I can come in late today. Bugger.
He reached for his wand and floated his still sleeping lover to his bed. He tucked her in, left a note with a rose by her bed and spelled her breakfast to keep till she woke. Then, with one last kiss dropped onto her tangled hair, he closed the door and went to work.
~}~}~@
October fifth, I can see the stars
Anna and Blaise have been married for four years. Can you believe it? That means that it has been five years since I first started dating Draco. Where has the time gone to? I am the head of a now successful department and he is the Director of International Affairs. Two big wigs now, are not we? It makes me want to smile wickedly and make a snarky comment or two about the way the Ministry is being run these days. Saying things like that always makes Hermione's blood boil.
I saw Bill's eldest today. She is in her third year at Hogwarts and every bit as lovely as her mother. That silvery hair of hers makes it hard to believe her father is a Weasley. Evie is thirteen and thinks herself a Queen Bee. Was I ever that young? Surely I must have been; if not actually at that age then at some point before it. Our set seemed to have grown up too fast, a result of the dark times we were children in no doubt.
When Harry was her age he had already defeated the Dark Lord two times. I always wonder about Tom's obsession with Harry. Why did he keep coming back? I shared a part of my being with Tom and still do not understand what prompted him to bang his head against the wall that was Harry until he died from it. I guess if I am baffled by it then it must have truly perplexed those in the know at the time.
Pride is every man's downfall.
Even my splendid Draco suffers from it. He winks and bats his eyelashes at me as I am writing this, never knowing that I just defamed his consequence so. He blows little lips and sends them in my direction. I laugh and tell him to keep his kisses to himself. The love I feel for him is equaled by none.
I am in a quandary. I told him all my history and he in turn told me his, and now I feel like some sort of expectation was not met. Did I really think he would confess his love? Sometimes I feel so naïve.
Look at me, inventing more problems for myself. I swear I am not happy unless a part of my life is going horribly wrong. Let me fill your pages with no more of this; instead I will relish in the love of a good man.
October fourteenth, mid morning
I have a small amount of free time so I thought that I would write. There is little of import to relate, but I am planning a holiday this weekend and know I will not be writing again for quite some time.
Hum, what to say?
Draco and I have decided to move in together. We all but live in each other's flats as it is anyway. Mum took the news well. I think she is still plotting a Malfoy Weasley wedding, but somehow that thought does not rankle as it once did.
Draco wants me to come live in the Manor, but I told him only his wife should do that. He dropped little hints about how only his wife would be, but I ignored them. I said a catty little comment about how he is getting as bad as Marty use to be and he went all red in the face and huffy.
Marty. Now there is a topic to sink one's teeth into. He and Nadia have been stuck together like they are charmed that way. Jenny has taken to calling him daddy and the there of them have taken up residence in the country not to far from Anna and Blaise. The four of them joke about how it will be Draco and I next, but I see no reason to rush into the inevitable. The tips of Draco's ears always turn bright pink when he hears that, but I cannot tell if it is from embarrassment or a wistful longing.
Yes, I am evil. I know it. I am making that poor man go through hoop after hoop, but I do not want a petty misunderstanding to end us like it did last time.