Chapter Fourteen
Draco spread his blanket out on the grass. Night had finally come, casting darkness across the sky. It was absolutely perfect for star-gazing; there wasn't a single cloud in the sky, except for a little puffy one that momentarily passed over the moon and then headed to far portions of the sky, away from him. It left behind trickles, like little pale hairs, which disappeared when the sun set completely.
He laid down, waiting, his eyes studying the stars as if it were the first time he had seen them. Lucius and Narcissa had drummed in, quite vigorously, an education outside of Hogwarts; due to their dappling in the Dark Arts, Draco had to know a lot about the phases of the moon, the constellations, and how to use this information in elaborate spells. They taught him over the summer, fueling his developing mind with books and magic lessons.
Draco never mentioned much about his summer coursework, not even to his bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. He was rather embarrassed by it, but now thanked the stars over him for his abundance of knowledge.
His eyes closed, the cool wind sliding over his face like velvet. It was cold; he had worn the trench coat she had bought him. When he reopened his eyes, he saw a figure standing over him. He sat up instantly, "Vivian?"
The figure replied, sharply, "No, Dumbledore." Vivian laughed and sat down on the blanket beside him, "Sleeping already?"
"I was just thinking," he replied, feeling his insides kindle anew with a distinct fire. He could feel words pressing against his lips, words he had spent all of yesterday trying to divulge into that last tell-all letter, which he never intend giving it to him.
"What about?"
"Everything," He said.
"Mmm, must have taken a while then," Vivian smiled. She was dressed rather unusually; her red hair was back in a ponytail, she was free of makeup for once – and he felt she looked rather pretty without it – and her clothes were still black but feminine, elegant; a knee-length dress and fishnet stockings and dressy shoes.
"You look nice," Draco offered, the compliment stuck in his throat for a while before he could get it out.
"Ah, I thought since it was my first night really looking at the stars, I ought to dress for the occasion," She blushed a little. She knelt beside him, then laid down on the blanket, her feet to his head. He felt an immediate pull of disappointment that she wouldn't lie flanking him like a man and a woman would lie together.
They both rested on the blanket, staring at the sky, and she kicked his temple lightly with the tip of her shoe and said, "Well? Get with it, you were planning to tell me all about the constellations."
"Ah..." He nodded in the darkness, "Maybe we can t-talk a little first."
"I see," She was grinning broadly; you could hear it in her voice, though he could only see the pale curve of her chin from where he was lying. She added, after some silence, "Let's go, let's talk. What's on your mind?"
Draco sighed, "Did you always dream of being a writer? Of making a name of yourself?"
"Oh, for a long time. I got in a bit of trouble with a diary in Hogwarts..." She trailed off, her voice faltering, then added, "I knew I was a good writer though. I'd write anywhere, writing in that diary got me in some trouble, don't ask – but, yeah..." She was beginning to babble, as she tended to.
"So you wrote wherever, whenever," he mused.
"You?"
"I always observed everyone really critically. I noticed things, I knew when and how and why things happened. I kept a diary too in Hogwarts."
"Really! I couldn't see you as the type!"
"It was mostly childish bitching on my part."
"Oh, well, isn't that what diaries start of as? Places to vent and complain... but you can really grow and find yourself in them," Vivian sat and turned so that she was lying beside him now, her head level with his, " Hey, you sound so depressed."
He blinked tears off, wishing to cast them into the sky, "I'm mad, that's all, I'm completely crazy."
"Why? What'd you do?" Concern tinged her voice.
He turned, his eyes looking right into her wide brown ones, "Ginny," He said delicately, using her real name. He couldn't hold it in much longer. He readied to lean forwards and kiss those perfect upturned lips, his eyes never leaving the caring, overwhelming depth of hers. His lips instinctively parted slightly, his head tilting towards hers.
She sadly missed what he was trying to do and prattled on, "You're going to have to learn to just get your thoughts out, you know. I can't read minds, and most other women can't either. I didn't really pay attention in Divination so I'm no good at any of that..."
Draco's fingers fell upon her lips, shushing her, "Are you nervous?"
"No?" Vivian's words stumbled out quickly, "What do you mean?"
"You're talking a mile a minute," He held his fingers over those soft pink little pillows; when she talked they brushed his fingers. He wondered if just the magic of those beautiful lips could rearrange his fingerprints, smearing the lines into gas-spill swirls; their heat and prowess felt like they could...
"I'm fine," She laughed softly. Flick, flick, her lips brushed his fingers. His spirit swooned, melting into hers in the moment that was so passionate to him and so ordinary to her, "I'm just surprised, you're acting really funny."
"Nah," He murmured softly, his intense blue eyes not leaving hers. Get the point, he whispered mentally, please, Ginny, Vivian, whatever. You're so good at making a move. You kissed my nose. Kiss me. Hug me. Something, please, something.
"You're spacing out," Vivian put her fingers on his lips in return, "You try talking sanely with someone going like this."
Her warm fingertips held fast as he replied, "I'll try," he could feel the soft brush of her black-painted fingernails on his upper lip; her fingers mostly rested on his larger lower lip.
"I was so afraid you wouldn't want to be my friend," Vivian sighed, her breath warm, blowing strands of his blonde hair from his face. She licked his fingertip by accident as she spoke. Her mouth remained a little open, his index finger resting slightly on one of her teeth. He wondered if she'd break away her face first, or if he'd move her fingers away. Neither of them seemed to want to.
"I was afraid too," Draco admitted.
"You like me."
"I do."
"I figured we'd become friends. I'm good at foretelling who'll become my friend," She closed her eyes, her eyelashes red and real – free of the tons of black mascara she usually smothered them with.
"You're the first I've ever really made," he said, and fallen in love with. Wanted to be with forever. All those little things. Can't you read it from my eyes? Look into them, read my eyes, I do that with yours. Can't you tell! You and your insight and optimism!
"Heh, I saw you in the café, you were so cute, I fancied you at once," She laughed softly.
Now we're getting somewhere.
"I bet I came off as a total weirdo," She laughed on, "You looked spooked out of your shoes. Hey, you're wearing your trenchcoat."
So much for that... "Yeah, I am."
"You're the one that wanted to talk. Say something. It's getting awkward," She dipped her finger into his mouth playfully, "Open up."
"You're not weird," Draco said finally.
"Yeah I am."
"Not anymore. Not to me," He confessed softly, his fingers tracing away from her lips and caressing her chin, moving up her soft cheek, "You don't mind if I...?"
"Knock yourself out. No need to check though, I shave everyday. You'll never be able to tell that I'm the Bearded Lady," Her grin cut him to pieces inside. Why was she so happy all the time!
His fingers stopped beneath her eyes, then traced down to her chin again.
Her own fingers budged from his lips.
He leaned forwards again, and this time didn't stop. She looked like she wanted to protest but he didn't allow her. His hand held down hers to the ground and the tips of his lips found her lower lip, then moved up and kissed, more passionately, his tongue tracing her lips and then darting inside her mouth. He had never kissed before and certainly not like this. Pangs of desire throttled through him; inside his pants he felt he was afire.
"Draco," She whispered in surprise, when he parted his lips from hers.
"I'm sorry," He whispered, "I had to."
"I didn't even have to do it first," Vivian's voice was full of tears, despite the laugh she tried to disguise it with, "I - - I didn't..." Her lower lip trembled and she pressed her lips to his again.
Her fingers trailed down his shirt, across his stomach, and then back up to his neck, caressing. Her delicate fingernails twiddled through strands of silver-blonde hair, parting them; she broke her lips away and kissed up bridge of his nose and looked in his eyes fondly.
"I didn't think you'd feel this way for me anymore," Draco whispered in a hushed tone.
"Talk about irony. I was the one that kept giving you signs, you ninny," She kissed his forehead gently and then smiled broadly into his face, " Since when...?"
"I can't," he cried softly, "we can't be like this."
"How long?" She demanded.
"A few days," He said softly, "but it had to have started long ago, slowly."
"Enflamed with passion suddenly, Malfoy?" Vivian teased.
He realized he ought to think of her as Ginny, not Vivian. As for who she was, who she would always be, who he could never change, who he could never be with. Vivian Crowe, no-name goth-girl, was still more likely to be with him than Ginny Weasley. His stomach dropped with both feverishness and disappointment; her lips were still fresh on his face but so was every bit of warning and advice he'd processed in his mind for the past few days. All of it for nothing? Would he lose himself to mindless passion? I never lose my cool...
"You're serious," She cooed, her fingertips running lower, skimming his belt nervously, then racing up to his face again, "I can't believe you're serious."
"I can't believe I'm telling you. Sort of."
"Tell me more."
"I fancy you."
"Likewise."
He was empowered, " I really like you."
"You've grown on me even more, just grew and grew from the start," Vivian was now confessing as well.
"I love you," He said finally. The silence around them was beautiful. Fireflies dangled like gold in the sky, emblazed into the night air as if by faience; the soft trill of crickets and cicadas rang from afar; the delicate hoot of an owl echoed from afar. Nature was still, his heart was not and his stomach whirled.
Vivian's eyes were filled with a glorious sort of joy, "You love me? You love me? You love me?" She stressed a different word each time, unsure which to disbelieve more, "Draco..." Her kiss found his lips again.
"Wait," Draco whispered, "Before I lose my head. We – we can't. I have to warn you. This is the – the last time – I tried to tell you in the café, I..."
"No wonder," She looked thrilled, "No wonder you were so flustered and shocked. I ruined it. I'm sorry," Vivian's eyes let loose to slow streams of tears, "I never thought you'd love me back."
She loves me. Did honor matter suddenly? He wanted to swim off into her tears, go back into her eyes, get married to her, have a child with her. Maybe even two. He might even learn to like children at this rate.
"We can't," His voice was pained, "be together. My family would be ruined. Our name. My mother, she'd die twice and then come back and kill me and die twice more."
She laughed softly.
"What'll everyone say? I can't hide as Brom Breeler forever."
She laughed harder, a little bitterly now.
He paused, "What?"
"Is being a Malfoy more important than being happy? Than love?"
He didn't reply for a moment, then said, "No, of course not."
"But it is. You're willing to throw this away." She leaned in, kissing deeper, her tongue dancing across his, pressing it to the roof of his mouth; he dared tangle his around hers. His hands trailed to her breasts, running over them in desire.
"I don't want to," He was breathless again, "Vivian – Ginny – I don't know what to do. I thought I had it all figured out but now..."
"You can decide after this," She whispered knowingly, her fingers tracing down his chest again, "How far are you willing to go?"
"What?" Draco's heart was pumping so hard he could feel it in his head and his ears, like a vicious pump, squeezing and gasping. His groin was throbbing. He bit his tongue to keep from blurting out something stupid. I think I'm dying. I've never – not in my whole life – he'd masturbated, of course, every boy has; but this was beyond anything he'd ever felt. All those pathetic magazines he'd flipped through in the restroom, working away frantically, watching the nude photographs – this was nothing like it. It wasn't as lustful as just so happy, so free and so unbelievably turned on - - his eyes closed in pleasure.
"Far," She read his face, her fingers unbuckling his belt. His fingers snuck to the hem of her dress, bunching it at her thighs; her legs straddled his waist, "Draco," She whispered, "Have you...?"
"No," He looked embarrassed.
"Neither have I," Vivian confessed.
But it feels like we know what to do, don't we? He wanted to say, but he felt it would be perverse, he wanted the moment to be beautiful. She pulled away clothing easily; he was glad he picked such a discrete spot in the garden! Her head was at his waist. His erection could have pierced steel; her body was warm and slick and he could barely keep his mind and heart from spinning to even focus on what was happening, his groan was a steady and fervent reply to her soft movements. Her lips were everywhere as were her hands; he could barely keep up, his fingers running through her hair.
"I love you," She cried softly, moments away from going the whole way, "Are you sure?"
"I..." Draco hesitated. He knew he wouldn't be able to go back after this. His first kiss, his first time, his first love. Being a Malfoy was pushed as far back into his mind as possible, "I am."
She straddled him again, her dress gathering at her waist, her black panties a lace curtain between finalizing what he really felt, pent up in him for so long. The passion that made him heady with desire, penciling off letter after letter to her a while ago, suddenly erupted again. He channeled it fully into making love under the stars. He couldn't even recall how it ended or what took place throughout; they were both moaning and breathless and at the very end she collapsed in his arms and her head lay on his shoulder, her eyes closed, her fingers tracing hearts on his chest.
He whispered into her hair, "I love you, Ginny Weasley."
She began to rearrange her clothing and help him with his; "I love you too," She was flushed and happy, "That was..."
He shook his head, showing they needn't speak.
"Want to hear about the stars?" He asked, his face tugging into a shy smile.
"Sure," She cuddled close and looked up at the sky, "What's that one?" She motioned towards a cluster of stars.
"Big dipper," He took her hand in his and guided her extended finger like a quill across the sky, "Little dipper..." He continued on, in a soft voice. She listened to his voice, rather than his words, the stars forming words and pictures in her mind on their own.
Eventually, Draco grew sleepy, and his thoughts strayed to his worries. He would now have to see Harry Potter regularly, as the Weasleys were tight with them. He would have to somehow make peace for a quarrel that was rooted all the way to his first year at Hogwarts. It would seem that as an adult, with understanding of the ridiculousness of his childhood antics, he would be more capable of smoothing out the argument. However, he couldn't do it; he felt an immense pride, one that had built up over years. Meanwhile, his mother would never allow him to marry someone of such low class; she would do all she could to alienate him from the Malfoy family and fortune. He would have to live in much worse conditions. He wondered if Narcissa would leave him with a share of the fortune before casting him away; he also wondered if the fact that she physically didn't show him much love, and even intimate talks between them were awkward, meant she might not love him enough to accept a decision like this.
He realized she had reevaluated her values after Lucius had died. She realized her fortune meant nothing when she lost someone she loved. Perhaps she would understand the power of love, the meaning it had, and how pale money was next to it. You couldn't buy yourself a new love, you couldn't pay to have someone you loved back.
His neck tingled with the feel of her soft, warm breath. He turned and saw that she had fallen asleep, just as he found the star Draco. He whispered to himself, "Draco, then." There it was, high in the sky, caught in the steady, flighty mist of clouds.
An owl called out at his words. It was the last thing he remembered before he, too, fell asleep.
&&&&&&&&&&
He woke up very early in the morning.
Draco sat up and saw that Ginny – he thought of her as Ginny now, for that was who she was and who he loved - was also sitting up, at the far edge of the blanket, picking clover flowers. She had quite a bouquet already. He watched her, wonderingly; even in the bleak, tired air of dawn she had the pull in her to pick simple flowers and gaze at them with appreciation of nature.
He didn't know what to say. His ears got hot at the thought of what happened during the night and he didn't know how to initiate some sort of communication now. Would she regret it? He wasn't sure if he regretted it or not. He felt so light, as if he could stand and float away; take flight and cheer at his new power. His eyes closed in pleasure, slightly arousing at the memory of what had occurred. Perhaps she, too, was puzzled with her feelings and was channeling her energy into the flowers.
She turned and looked him dead in the eyes.
Draco blinked away and sat up, "What time is it?" A panic filled his heart; Narcissa had gone to bed early and hadn't seen him glide through the doors, floating like a feather across the lawn with his blanket like a superhero's cape fluttering behind him, elated at the idea of spending an entire night with Ginny. However, she would surely notice his absence and search the grounds for him, and if she found him with Ginny in such compromising circumstances, he'd face utter humiliation in front of both his mother and Ginny and subsequently be miserable, one way or the other.
"It's barely five," She said, softly, "You could sleep some more. She won't be up this early. She's getting older."
So she knows that I fear my mother, he thought, and then smiled lightly at her, " I'm glad you understand. But... no, I'm up already. I don't think I could fall asleep again knowing we could be caught."
"We can't be together in secret like this."
"My mother's already banned you from the Malfoy grounds."
"Already? After one meeting? Imagine what she'd do if..."
"I know," he sighed.
"What do we do?" She tucked a strand of red hair behind her ear.
That red hair, those freckles, the shape of her nose: the features he'd despised in Ron Weasley, the features he'd laughed at with Crabbe and Goyle! Now he wanted to kiss every freckle, he wanted to cry and hold her and run his fingers through her hair, and tell her she was beautiful.
"I don't know what we'll do," Draco said carefully.
"You can leave your home," she said, "We both get a nice salary from the Prophet."
"My family line would die right there though, with me," he said, his Malfoy honor rising in him. He had been raised for nineteen years to honor his family, to respect their pureblood, spotless breed of fine people. They all looked alike, descended from old Anglo-Saxon blood, and remained looking it, with blonde hair and blue eyes and clear, pale complexions. The genes passed on from father to son and daughter; sons would marry women that possessed wealth and honor to their family name as well.
The Malfoy history would be lost with him; he would just become the final character in a long story he'd tell his grandchildren. All the great powerful men, all the strong, supportive women – and generations that lacked rebellion, that honed and respected the family's name! Nobody had disobeyed, strayed; if they had it was completely covered up and erased so that nobody had heard of it more than a generation later. Scandal was unspoken of. Their honor was thick as fog, blinding their eyes from a life that was different.
He had never wanted to stray, either. Though he was completely complacent towards and without any desire for the wife Narcissa and Lucius would turn up for him, and his job at the Daily Prophet (though it was "below" a Malfoy anyway, according to his family, and they all kept pushing their connections to the Ministry to get him a finer job). He had already rebelled more than anyone else; he was on the edge now of ruining the entire Malfoy name.
"Draco," She touched his arm lightly, "I love you."
"I love you too," He whispered breathily.
Fuck everything. I'm never going to be in love again, not like this. I'm never going to be happy again. It's sacrificing myself for my family or my family for myself. The Malfoys are dying out anyway, my father's gone and Mother will die soon, unfortunately, she's so heartbroken, I don't think she'll carry on...
Ginny saw his thoughtful expression, "Are you willing to be with me? For... for a long time?"
"Forever, maybe," He said softly.
She flushed at the thought, at the prospects of their relationship, "So... so you're going to face your family."
"There's not much left of the Malfoys anyway. A bunch of bickering, squabbling relatives, and the only other child I'm aware of is Katie. I'm sure if she stays with either parent we'll get to see her often enough, they won't alienate me, even if Narcissa might."
"Do you think your mother would?"
"I think... I think she's rethought love and priorities after my father died."
"So you're optimistic."
"She might leave the fortune in my hands, and disagree entirely with it, but let me go on... with you."
"When will you tell your mother?"
"Tonight at dinner," He responded, "The sooner the better. Whatever happens, happens. I'm ready."
"Me too," She squeezed his hand.
"Either way, I'm sticking beside you. Always."
"So you've decided after all."
"It doesn't matter what she says. I'm ready to be myself, not a Malfoy. I'm ready to leave the formula and start something new, something better. A different Malfoy family."
Ginny didn't want to question what he was suggesting – that they'd start a family together, get married. She wanted it desperately, she'd waited years for it; now she saw her dreams coming together in the most unlikely way. And the money too! Her family would never be poor again!
They faced each other. Draco could feel his soul swooning, lost in the dark centers of her eyes, her irises inviting, like milk chocolate. She looked back, at those ice-blue eyes, where she saw fragments of future in the flecks of true joy that have finally appeared in his. The window to his soul.
The sound of birds flapping from trees and singing to greet the day was overwhelming.
Author's Note: Here is where I intended to end. I'll see if I write another chapter... if I do I'll post it in a couple of days to a few weeks; if not, then this is the end, my friends. It ends just as I wished. But I'd love to have a scene of Draco telling his mother; of what happens; of meeting the Potters for the first time. We'll see if my muse will be with me, she's died recently anew.