Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters or places. Just the plot. And I'm not makin any money off of this, either.
====
Maybe that's why I need you
You and standing in the
Middle of a dark, raging thunderstorm
(the power makes me tremble).
Riding in a fast,
Sleek convertible,
(30 over the limit).
Absorbing the sensation
Of the largest roller coaster
(seatbelt discarded).
And a 180-foot
Parachute free fall
All somehow give me
The unexplainable thrill
Of delighting in something so
Terribly,
Wonderfully
Out of control.
- Erika Banick
====
Angel
"Hullo me."
Draco looked at the stone dragon. The dragon glared back at him with round, circular eyes under angry eyebrows. He could vividly imagine a colorful flame of fire shooting out of his mouth at him. The sculptor had really gone all out to sculpt something so realistic.
The dragon, however, did not reply.
"Um… just stopped by to see how you were holding up, ol' Draco, ol' boy. Is that cute stone angel chick down there flirting with you much? Is she a tease?"
Draco took off his cap and ran his long fingers through his black hair. He had it streaked with bold red highlights last time he visited France, and it contrasted nicely with his jet-black hair, which he usually hid under a baseball cap anyway. He was due for a haircut, and would have to remember to make an appointment with Blaise. He put his cap back on and drew his coat tighter around him.
A silver stud glittered in his right ear, something he had been tentative to consider. He wore black baggy pants, complete with silver chain linked belt and a Sponge Bob t-shirt under a leather jacket. Although he didn't watch much TV, the t-shirt was generally accepted wherever he went, and his objective was to assimilate as much as possible.
"God, I forgot how cold it could be in England. Living in California certainly has an effect on one's wardrobe," he observed to no one in particular. "Notice the Sponge Bob," he said proudly to the silent dragon. "People in Los Angeles are absolutely nutters for it.
"Look, I know why you're so puzzled. It's obvious you don't recognize me. I'm Draco Edward Malfoy, better known as Daemon Marks, better known as the scum of the earth, asshole, bastard, Death-eater Man and his side kick Ferret Boy..." he trailed off as he realized he couldn't think of any more names to call himself, or names he had been called.
"So yeah, I'm Draco. The person you're supposed to be memorializing, or whatever you stone dragons do." There was silence as the wind blew by. Some leaves rustled. "But you do it so well," he added, as to not offend the dragon. "But the whole identity thing, that might add to some confusion, I guess. See, you probably think I'm dead. But surprise: I'm not!
"See, I pretended to die. I didn't really die, because then I wouldn't be here, but I guess you already figured that out. I died to save myself from becoming a Death Eater. Because, see… if the Death Eater guys think that I'm dead, they won't force me to kill muggles and mudbloods, and killing muggles and mudbloods is a biggie on my list of Things to Generally Avoid." He paused, trying to think of a direction that he could steer this conversation toward.
"You know, Marks, you really shouldn't talk to your memorial like that. People will think that you're going nutters – not that you already haven't." Draco spun on his heels of his too-big shoes and turned around.
Harry Potter stood behind him. He wore a black short-sleeved t-shirt under a long-sleeved blue button down and baggy jeans with a leather belt to hold it up on his skinny hips. His messy black hair mused itself in the wind, crossing over on his head and standing straight up.
"Hullo Potter. No one asked for your opinion." Harry seemed amused at Malfoy, and who wouldn't? he supposed.
"So you died today?" Malfoy wanted to wipe the infuriating, superior grin off of Potter's face, but he managed to suppress the immature deed.
"Supposedly." He shrugged.
"Any reason why you came back?"
"Nope."
"Other than you died today?"
"Yes, Potter. Have I made that clear?"
"Crystal." Harry paused and looked at the dragon. "Nice dragon," he commented.
"Yes, I rather think so myself. Kind of looks like me." Draco stuck a pose and Harry snorted.
"Yes, I see the resemblance: an unusually large nose."
"Potter, you're an absolute riot. It's a wonder I'm still a bachelor and you're not."
"Could it have to do the fact that you're a fugitive and I'm an international Quidditch star?"
"It has nothing to do with my social status." Draco took off his cap and ran his hand through his hair. Again.
"Excuse me, of course not." Harry looked at Draco and smirked, but it faded away. Transitioning from a rich and pampered life to one that was barely above poverty level was a hard thing to do, and Harry had to admire Draco's lighthearted and humorous attitude during the entire time.
Draco had a distant look in his eyes, and his head was pointed upward, at the heavens.
"Are you thinking of her?"
"Is there ever a time I'm not?"
"Good point." Malfoy didn't seem to hear him. Instead, he closed his eyes, and Harry had to look twice to see the small twinkle on the inside of his eye.
"Did you know that when you're lying flat on your back, and Ginny's above you, and the wind's blowing her hair around out of her ponytail, and the sky is gray and cloudy, and your lip is bleeding, that she looks like an angel? I mean, she really looks like an angel that's fallen out of heaven, coming to take you home since you've died. She really does." He looked at Harry, who shook his head. Draco lifted up his hand and wiped away a falling tear.
"God, I miss her."
The cold winds blew Ginny's hair out in front of her and stung her face. She wrapped her cloak tighter around her and cursed the cold gust.
"Ginny, come on!" Hermoine urged her, running back to keep up with her. Hermoine's own brown curls were put back in a tight bun, something Ginny wished she had thought of doing. Her hair flew around in a ponytail, obscuring her vision. "We're going to miss your brother and Harry playing! I bet the game's already started!"
"This is an important game. This is probably the most important game we will play for the rest of the year. Gryffindor is a tough team, but we're tougher. We can beat them."
The Slytherin team walked silently up the wooden stairs to the tower; the only sound was the clomping of their boots on the old stairs. Their robes flapped behind them and their brooms dragged. They stopped when they reached the platform of takeoff and faced their captain.
Classes had resumed after the New Year, and the school was now gathered for the first Quidditch game of the New Year. Of course, Headmaster Dumbledore had decided to take advantage of the Slytherins and Gryffindors intense rivalry, and told each team a week in advance of the upcoming match.
This was guaranteed to be one of the most interesting games of the year.
"We've practiced breaking their defense. We've improved our aim and our grips. We've enhanced our speed, we've strengthen our throws," Malfoy said, pacing back and forth, glaring at his team members.
The Gryffindor team had been practicing hard, determined to win. Harry, their captain, stayed up late every night, trying to work out a strategy and new drills. Ron was just as eager to win, a newfound fuel pushing him harder and harder to beat the Slytherin chasers.
He had been furious when he saw the picture, and chewed Ginny out the next day to the point where she was in tears. The common room was silent as he yelled at his sister, whose eyes where brimming with salt water. He refused to talk to her for the next two days, but glared at her at all the meals. Distraught, Ginny refused to come out of her dormitory for a day until Ron came up and apologized.
Ron would not let Draco Malfoy's team win this game. Not in a lifetime.
"Their keeper isn't anything special. There's one of him, and three of us. He should be easy to overpower."
The day was already forbidding enough to make anyone want to go back to sleep. The sky was gray and overcast, setting everybody's mood a little bit crankier and solemn. Even Louise, who played chaser for the Gryffindors, wasn't as jovial as normal. She was silent at breakfast, leaving quickly and saying she had to get ready.
"I'm worried that Ron and Harry will push the team too hard," Hermoine said to Ginny as they walked out of the castle, on the worn path that would lead them to the Quidditch pitch. "I know that they've always been Slytherin's rivals, but now… it's like war." Ginny agreed.
"We can hit harder than those Creevys. We can hit longer. We can aim better," Malfoy said, looking directly at his two beaters. They nodded grimly. Graham Pitchard hit his bat against his hand in a rather threatening manner.
" 's cold today, don't you agree?" she asked the older witch, taking out a hunter green thermal headband and putting it on her head, covering her ears. Her mother had knitted it for her this year and sent it with the Christmas presents; so far, Ginny had found good uses for it. Hermoine nodded and took out her own blue one. "Shame they scheduled a Quidditch game on the coldest day of the year."
"To think we could've been studying," Hermoine said wistfully.
Ginny bit back a laugh. "You're joking, right?"
"No. Why would I be joking, Ginny?" she asked in a serious tone. They opened the gate to the pitch and walked to the Gryffindor side. The gate closed behind them with a clang.
"No reason," Ginny replied.
"It's showtime, men. And need I remind you of what will happen if we fail to win at practice next week?" The sullen faces of the Slytherin shook. They knew how to play; they knew how to win this game.
"Now line up!" Malfoy said harshly. Instantly, his team conformed to the lineup of takeoff. He looked at them with pride; his team was ready for this. He turned to face the moving door.
The Gryffindor section was filled with shivering huddled students of different years. The two girls pushed their way to the front to see the game. Looking up, they could see the two teams' players flying around, anxious for Madam Hooch to begin the game. Ginny could see Harry and Ron, sitting on brooms next to each other. Their hands were clasped together; neither of them had thought of wearing gloves. They had on their Weasley earmuffs and Gryffindor scarves over their scarlet robes.
Doom lingered on Malfoy's mind as he flew out, his team following him. Ginny was out there in the throng of students, watching him as he flew about. He flew a lap around the field to shake off the nervousness, the wind blowing around him.
Lavender Brown, Sara Jennings, and Louise Braisen lined up, their faces emotionless to the Slytherin chasers' sneering faces. Ginny could imagine the kind of prep talk Harry had given his team.
'Remember,' she could hear him say in a serious tone. 'Slytherin gives us a lot of crap. They play dirty and unfairly. Don't let them anger you. Don't let them mess with your head. Don't let them prevent you from scoring. Don't let them get in your way. This is nothing we haven't done before.'
' 'He who angers you conquers you'.' Ginny could picture Sara, who was always quoting someone, say. The team would grip their brooms tighter, hold their heads higher, and straighten their backs.
His mind went blank as he prepared for the game to begin. He lined up above his team, across from Potter. Potter's cheeks were red from windburn already, and his messy hair had already become windblown. He glared at Malfoy with such intensity that Draco began to wonder what had happened in the last few days, and if it was possible for the Boy-Who-Lived to hate him even more.
Looking across from Harry, she saw Draco and her heart gave a little skip. His hair was slicked back and his cheeks where pale, his ears, red from the cold. His glaring eyes were set on Harry. He sat up on his Nimbus 2001 like a statue, with a stiffed, relaxed posture. His emerald green robe flapped in the cold wind behind him.
But now was not the time to worry about that. The game would begin soon, and if Malfoy didn't concentrate, he would be left behind.
A shrill whistle broke Ginny's daydream. The red quaffle had just been thrown up in the air and the chasers from each team surged forward. Slytherin was first to grab it, and promptly ducked under the Gryffindor chasers. Harry and Draco flew up and separated, searching for the small Snitch as it zoomed about.
Ginny watched, fascinated, as the Slytherin chasers went to work. They wove in and out of each other in an elaborate braid. The Gryffindors, she could see, where becoming frustrated with their game. They began to try to simply intercept the pass.
Flying around at the center of the field, Malfoy was keen to watch for the Snitch. He dropped lower and scanned the ground, then Potter, then the ground, then Potter.
Sticking her hands out, Lavender grabbed the quaffle. Tucking it low and to her side, she began to fly low to the ground. Instantly, all the chasers changed direction and followed her. Sensing their presence behind her, Lavender picked up her speed and dropped lower. Ginny looked at her, puzzled. She looked upward, yelling for support, when realization dawned upon her.
Sara and Louise were flying higher and higher, towards the Slytherin goals. Sara stopped about five feet from the lowest goal, Louise on the other side of the second highest goal, back about another five feet. What seemed like an elaborate plan for ten points was beginning to form.
Draco caught a glimpse of gold and dove. There it was, the small walnut, fluttering above his goal.
"Ginny!" Hermoine shouted, pointing at Louise, who sat determinedly behind the goal.
"She's going to score, Herm! Once Sara get the quaffle from Lavender, she's going to pass it to Lou, and she'll score from behind," Ginny said patiently. Hermoine had never been one to strategize Quidditch plays.
"No! Look above her! The snitch!"
It was right above that girl's head. She didn't even know it was there.
Ginny watched as Draco picked up speed, quickly gaining space on the Snitch.
Lavender threw Sara the quaffle and swerved to the outside parameter of the pitch. Sara caught it and quickly set up to throw it to Louise, whose arms were open and waiting for the pass.
Then Sara hesitated as he saw Draco approaching from behind.
"Louise!" she screamed, tucking the quaffle under her arm.
Draco stuck his arm out, hand open. He was so close to catching it. "Louise," was the last thing he heard before he blacked out.
It happened too fast. Draco collided with Louise, pushing him and her off their brooms. Ginny watched in horror as they tumbled in a slow, hypnotic dance to the ground just outside the goal sand area. They landed with a thud.
The Snitch, frightened by the crash, had accidentally flown straight into Harry Potter's hand, who had rushed over to see what had happened. The game ended in an eruption of cheers, clapping, boos, and hisses from all sides of the field.
"Damn," Ginny muttered as she jumped over the parameter to her friend. She ran to Louise, who lay motionless on the ground. "Lou!" she said, kneeling down onto her knees. Taking two fingers, she checked for a pulse in her neck, letting go a breath she hadn't known she had been holding when she found one. "Lou, wake up! You're not dead, you're not dead, you're not dead!"
'I'm not dead. I just hurt. A lot. Where the hell is my team? Is the game still going on? Did we win? Where's the Snitch? Am I bleeding?' Thoughts raced through Malfoy's head as he lay on the ground.
"Ginny?" Louise said faintly, stirring over to one side. "What are you doing out here? You don't play Quidditch."
'Did she say Ginny?'
Malfoy slowly turned on his side, easing onto the fresh bruises that were forming on his pale underside. He looked up at Virginia Weasley who sat in front of her friend, who lay on one side in front of her.
"Lou, I know. You've told me I should play chaser with you a billion and a half times."
The only time Malfoy lost it was when he was near her, the goddess, the image of perfection. The angel. Her cheeks were pink from running, and from the cold, stinging wind, but her eyes were livid with concern. A pang ran through Malfoy's chest; that concern was not intended for him, but instead to the girl – Ginny's friend – lying beside him.
"Not a billion and a half. More like three million," she said groggily.
Red waves blew and fanned out in front of her face, which she impatiently brushed aside. They held the rainbow in their sheen, and swirled around her like an aura, like the northern lights in the winter sky. They shone like stars against the dull gray sky behind her. Her freckles made the sky pale to the color of soupy mashed potato gravy.
Her eyes momentarily flicked behind her friend's shoulder, at his face. At his nickel colored eyes. Her eyes were like orbs of suspended Knuts, brown and shiny, newly minted. But it was only for a moment, no more than a second, and their contact was lost as she diverted them away, as if she was ashamed to know him, or see him, possibly as he saw her.
Her coldness towards him made him feel as though he could just evaporate off of the face of the earth, and his body fly up to the sky. Or as if he could just sink right through the ground. It made him feel as though he did not exist, and maybe to her, he didn't.
"Are you alright?"
That concern was not for him.
"I've been better," Louise admitted. "I was just about to die here with your lov – worst mortal enemy, but then, lo and behold, you come out here and wake me up." She pouted, and behind her, Draco sniggered even though it hurt, and his mouth tasted metal with blood. He gingerly touched his bleeding lip.
"Excuse for being concerned. Does anything hurt?" Ginny said sarcastically.
"Ginny, I just crashed midair with an airborne hunk of one hundred and forty pounds human flesh and fell twenty feet. Everything hurts."
"Anything damaged? Broken? Bleeding? Marred? Maimed?"
"Enough! You're making what's left of my head hurt! I don't think anything other than my pride is dented, my ego deflated, my ankle and left wrist might be broken, and I think the interior of my small intestines has crashed into my stomach, mixing with the acid and gum from two weeks ago that I accidentally swallowed. Now I think the acid is traveling up my esophagus, and I'll chuck it up for you any second now."
"Can't you be serious for once, Louise Braisen?! You might be seriously hurt!" Ginny said in a manner that was too motherly for her. Lou smiled at her, understanding her anger as concern.
"Mum always said that the pain hurts less if you have a little humor," she said faintly.
"Words to live by, Weasley," Draco spoke from beside her. He had propped himself up on an elbow and was looking at them in amusement
His lower lip was bleeding, and the blood trickled down his chin. His robe and upper shirt buttons were undone, and Ginny could see bruising on his shoulder and the bottom of his neck. His hair was mused from the fall and he looked devilishly sexy.
"Your friend is wiser than she appears." He looked at Louise, whose gold hair was matted with blood, lying on the ground. He stood up with difficulty, and rubbed his wrist.
"Hey! I resemble that remark!" she said lightly, obviously flattered by Draco's remark.
"Ok, Lou, it's obvious that you'll live to see another day, and you're achieving nothing by laying on the ground. Up to the hospital wing with you!" she held out her hand and helped Louise up. Cheers erupted from all sides as Ginny led a limping Louise off the field, Malfoy following after them.
"Ginny, did I score that goal?"
"No, you didn't, Lou. I'm sorry."
"Shucks."
=-=-=-=-=
"Oh Marks, I forgot to tell you," Draco's eyes snapped open and he looked at Harry. He seemed to be digging for something in his pant pocket.
"What is it, Potter?" he asked with curiosity. "Did you bring my a lollipop? Perhaps a bouquet of flowers on my death day?"
Harry looked up, smiling. His eyes held a dancing light that reminded Draco of a child. He seemed undaunted by Malfoy's sarcasm.
"Ginny stopped by at the Burrow other day, and Ron gave me her new address. She came by just before she moved to New York." In Harry's hand was a piece of paper. Draco took it and turned it over. There was an address scratched on it with black ink. He held it above his head, deciphering Harry's messy scrawl.
"New York… New York… isn't that in…" he trailed off. "What country is that in, Potter?"
"The US," he said, looking at Draco strangely. Draco grinned, then looked at Harry.
"I'd hug you but… no…," he said, putting the piece of paper in his pocket. Harry grinned.
"Anytime."
=_=_=_=_=_
Two Days later…
There was a knock at the door. Ginny Weasley hopped around boxes in her bedroom and living room to the foyer of her brand new apartment and opened the door. There was no one there, but a single rose lay on the ground, wrapped in cellophane. It glittered in the hallway light. She picked it up, glancing around the hall in case the person was still there.
Puzzled, she closed the door and walked through the hallway, to her small kitchen. Sitting on a chrome stool, she read the manufacture's card attached to the rose.
The Enchanted Everlasting Rose!
The magically enhanced Rose stays fresh as long as the giver has romantic feelings towards the receiver of the rose. The redness of the rose petals and the fragrance of the petals indicate freshness.
Carefully taking the rose out of its wrapper, she filled up a vase that Emma Weasley, her niece, had decorated for her and placed the rose in it. Then she carefully poured water into the vase and placed it in the center of the table.
As she turned to throw the cellophane away, she noticed a small piece of paper. She picked it out between the wrapping and read it.
Happy Valentines, Weasley.
Love Always, D. M.
Author's Note: Much thanks to reviewers crazyfire, hart-break, KuTiExAzNxAnGeL, Massao28 (here… have a tissue! Just in case. D/G forever!), Simple Confusion, _voided, blackrose62, SamiJo, death (you didn't sound like a prep. Cherries are for all kinds of people! *lol*), prexus, Chocolate Muse, and Gin (I dunno when they'll meet. It's however the story turns out, I suppose), all who reviewed chapter 2.