Author's Note: Wow, I can't believe it...I'm an author. Ok, maybe not a very good one, but still, I just realized that I'm an author! What a weird sensation. And yes, I'm high on sugar and coke, or else I'd probably be writing something more helpful to those of you reading this. Anyways...Chapter 5! Woo-hoo! So, poor Ginny, eh? Will things get better, or will a giant Killer Rabbit with nasty, bug, pointy fangs attack everyone in this FanFic? You'll just have to read to find out. Eye twitches maniacally and grabs another coke can. So read and enjoy, I can't wait to hear what you think!

Disclaimer: Yes everything's mine. Damn. No it's not. I own the delightfully rich character of Jenna, as well as a few other things that might have slipped in there. Everything else is the magnificent J.K. Rowling's.

Puffy Red Eyes

Chapter 5: Enemies, Lovers, Friends...One of Those.

The next morning was the beginning of a clear and peaceful day. The sun rose beaming over the Malfoy Manor, shining its rays cheerfully into the many full-length windows.

Much to Draco's annoyance.

His head was pounding horribly. Why couldn't he have snogged Weasley AFTER she'd given him some pain reliever? Draco tried rising in, only to flop back down on the pillows after the explosion of what might have been his brain.

Last night was a blur. Focusing his scrambled thoughts on the events of the previous evening instead of on the rhythmic thumping the pieces of her shattered brain were making as they beat a tattoo on his temples, Draco frowned.

He'd come home, read his mother's weak good-bye note, then Weasley had come…no, Weasley came after he'd downed a whole bottle of…whatever it was. Then he'd thrown it up. He flushed. He'd shown weakness. When Weasley arrived, he could barely stand. How humiliating. Then she'd lifted him up. He hadn't known she was that strong; to be able to lift his pretty much dead weight and help haul him back to his bed was no easy task. And then he'd kissed her.

Draco grimaced. Oh Shit.

She'd left crying. He couldn't remember half of what he'd said to her, but the half he could remember had been mean.

Fine, spiteful. Downright cruel.

But she'd deserved it. Who did she think she was that she could lead him along like she did, then drop him? She'd been the one toying with him, not the other way around. Well, perhaps he had been moving a little too quickly, what with a bottle of potent alcohol in his system and all.

But what was it she'd said, right before leaving?

He focused, drawing up an image from the might before. She was standing in front of him, crying (why had she been crying? He'd only insulted her) and she'd whispered something before frantically escaping his house.

I'm sorry.

Christ! Malfoy thought. What was she sorry for? Had she not meant for it to get so out of hand? He hadn't either, but that hadn't stopped things from turning out the way they had.

Draco swung his long, sinewy legs over the side of his bed. He sat on the edge for a moment, his arms raised above his head, feeling the strained pull in his arm muscles.

He dropped his arms. The house was unusually still and warm. He pulled his light shirt off and stood. Walking around the house with no shirt on was a freedom he rarely experienced, and he took the chance whenever he got it.

He placed his feet on the smooth emerald carpet and stood.

His head throbbed with the effort. Damn. He plodded grimly into his bathroom, his head ready to split with each step. The cold shock of the tile floor was a pleasant relief from the uncomfortable warmth of the rest of the house.

He turned to his mirror-cabinet and snarled at his own appearance.

His usually pristine hair was in disarray. His normally sharp eyes were out of focus and glazed, his vision bleary. His complexion was red, and, touching a cool hand to his cheek, felt heat there. He looked like a homeless drunk.

That's got to change. He thought. He padded over to the corner of the spacious bathroom, where a large white bathtub sat, calling his name.

Draco turned the cold water on full blast, then, as if on second thought, turned to hot water on a quarter of the way. The result was a refreshingly cool bath. While the tub filled up, Malfoy stripped off his pajama pants, and then his silk boxers.

He turned off the water and stepped experimentally into the water tub, He then submerged himself in the icy water. He sighed contentedly as the icy water engulfed him.

Ginny lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, deep in contemplation, listening to Jenna's rhythmic breathing beside her. She glanced over at the flashing Muggle clock on the floor.

The clock blinked 6:00 at her.

Gods, it's 6 a.m.

Ginny grimaced, then rolled out of the bed so as not to wake Jenna up. She padded silently across the carpet to the still-unpacked bags of clothes from several days before.

Ginny rummaged through the clothes, picking up and discarding each article in turn. Furious with herself for wanting to look good for Malfoy, she grabbed the top outfit.

Five minutes later, staring at herself in the mirror, Ginny had to hand it to Jenna. On any other person, it would have been an awesome outfit.

It was a definite change in appearance that was for sure.

Of all the clothes she'd gotten, this one was probably her favorite. It wasn't flashy, or showy, or even a real knock-out, but it was very pretty, and accentuated her few striking features.

The off-the-shoulder top in deep emerald green contrasted magnificently with her hair and skin, making both glow and stand out. The jeans she'd grabbed from the bag weren't very tight, but they were nice, with small black swirls along the bottom, ending just above plain sandals with green straps.

It wasn't the neatest or nicest of outfits, but it looked good on her. And it was a hell of a lot more feminine than her baggy pants and ripped tees.

She hastily scribbled a note explaining where she'd gone, then snuck from the room.

As the door clicked shut softly, Jenna peeped open one eye she'd kept closed while she pretended to be asleep.

"S'about time." She smiled.

Draco was still reclining in the tub when the ominous DONG of the front doorbell rang through the house.

Dammit, who can that be?

Draco groaned and leaned forward, his shoulder muscles tense from resting against the back of the tub. Draco pulled the chain on the plug, and stepped out onto a green rug as the water level began to descend.

He grabbed a dark green towel from a silver rack on the wall. He wrapped it around his waist and walked back into his room.

He quickly dried off and pulled on a typical Muggle outfit, consisting of a pair of baggy black running pants and a dark cerulean tee with the logo of Mick's Masks, one of his father's clients with a shop in downtown London.

His head was still pounding, harder, now that he wasn't soothed by the icy coldness of the water. He moved back to his door, his feet feeling like they were filled with lead.

He wobbled over to the door, a slight feeling of lightness coming over him. His faint notion of success was squashed as he stared down the long corridor in front of him.

By the time Draco made it to the grand stairs, his head felt shattered, but walking was significantly easier.

He began to descend the stairs, slowly at first, but more rapidly as his confidence increased. He'd nearly made it to the bottom of the stairs when the front door swung open slowly. There, looking for all like an angel, stood one of the last people Draco would have expected, especially after last night; Ginny Weasley.

Her clothes were, once again, incredibly flattering. Since when had she figured out how to dress herself? It was like she was dressing adorably just to tease him.

Whatever the case, the effect was stunning. She seemed to glow with radiance. Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, with a single tantalizing curl hanging loose down her back.

The clothes were nicely assembled, and showed off what there was to show off of Weasley's slender body.

Draco was, however, entranced, nonetheless. So much so that he completely missed the next step.

As Draco stumbled forward, Ginny regained her senses and lunged towards Draco.

He, on the other hand, was considering how painful and disfiguring taking a nosedive onto a tile floor would be, when, in a blur of green, Weasley was in front of him.

His collision with her soft body was much more preferable to a head-on collision with a hard tile floor.

Draco flew into Ginny, who wrapped her arms instinctively around his back. His momentum, however, sent the both of them pitching backwards to the ground.

"Oof!" Ginny gasped as Draco fell fully on top of her, slamming her into the ground.

Draco stared down at her, his face, for once, was unmasked, reflecting concern.

"I'm sorry, Weasley. Are you alright?" He asked, scrambling to get off her.

To his surprise, she stopped him, latching onto his arms.

He stared down into her eyes, and felt unstable, as if he could fall into them.

"What, Weasley? Didn't get enough last night? I didn't either, but that's more your problem than mine, seeing as it's rather your fault." He sneered, trying not to let her see how much she affected him.

Ginny cringed. "Malfoy, can we talk?"

Draco was livid. Malfoy?! He had apparently gone out of favor. He'd gone from an affectionate 'Draco' to a sneering 'Malfoy.' So he was Malfoy, now.

"There is no 'we', Weasley. I thought I made that clear. I thought you made that clear." He drawled lazily, all too aware (and uncomfortable) of how hurt she looked.

"Why? Why did you kiss me…and …then…try to…well, you know…" She plunged ahead, fumbling as she blushed furiously. She couldn't believe she'd just asked him that!

Draco nearly laughed. She was blushing?

"I don't know, Weasley, you were convenient?" Draco flinched internally. That was cruel, and he'd be very much surprised if he didn't earn a blow for that one.

He tightened his muscles in case she tried to hit him, and steeled himself for her fury.

As it turned out, he was to be very much surprised.

Neither anger nor tears came. What came was worse. She looked into his eyes for a second, held his gaze, then dropped it. Her big brown deer eyes had shimmered with tears, beseeching him to be honest. His iron eyes were as hard as usual, save for the slightest flicker of uncertainty.

"That's a lie, Draco, and you know it." It made her feel slightly better and more confident that he had to lie to her, but frustrated that he couldn't just tell her the truth for once.

Draco was startled. Not only had she called him Draco again (gods, this tart is bloody schizophrenic), but she'd seen through him. No one could do that.

At Hogwarts, Malfoy had honed his abilities to lie effectively to a perfection. He could get away with practically anything, including not turning in homework (this worked exceptionally well with Snape, the potions master and Head of the Slytherin House), beating up on younger kids, and skipping the occasional Quidditch practice.

And here was this girl who'd just told him to his face, without batting an eyelash, that he was a liar. And she was right.

"Tell me something, Weasley. What makes you so sure?" He asked, suave and unconcerned once more.

Ginny reached up and ran long, slender fingers through Draco's silky blond hair.

He froze at her touch, his body going slack.

What the bloody hell is she doing?

He'd just insulted her, and not only wasn't she killing him and ripping his head off, she looked ready to kiss him.

"I know because you could have nearly any other girl in Slytherin, no, probably in the entire school. Most of them are ready to jump into bed with you in a second. So why the weasel? Why, if all you want is to get laid, do you ignore the girls ready and willing to help you, and go for someone you hate, and who should hate you." She said softly.

Draco looked at her for an answer. Her lips were slightly parted, and he could just see the tip of her tongue through them. Her cheeks were flushed with a faint rosy coloring, and her deep brown eyes seemed to stare straight into him.

"I don't know." He said, huskily, waiting for her reaction.

Ginny tried to hide her disappointment. What did you think he'd say? 'Because I like you?' That would have been mice, but she would have keeled over from the shock of hearing it come from Draco's lips.

And damned it she was thinking of him as 'Draco' again.

Draco stared at her. He could see her trying not to look disappointed, but she wasn't doing a very good job of it. She was disappointed? Why was she disappointed? She shouldn't be disappointed. She'd freaked out the other night, because it was him, and now she was disappointed because he didn't know?

"What's the matter, weasel? Thought you could get me now after tossing me around last night? What happened, doesn't Potter want you?" He jeered.

Ginny's face fell and hardened.

"I'm sorry Malfoy." She stressed his last name, making him scowl viciously.

She returned the scowl, giving him a glare with a strange amber gleam in her eyes; it was a glare that made him quail from it.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I'm only sixteen. I'm sorry I'm not one of those girls who's willing to throw away their virginity and dignity on someone they've just started seeing, no matter how badly I may fancy you. I'm sorry I'm not some cheap slut off the streets who can satisfy your needs, and I'm dreadfully sorry that that's all you wanted from me. I'm sorry I'm not ready to risk getting pregnant or exposing myself to your insults in a sex-based relationship. I'm sorry I have a conscience. I'm sorry that I'm not ready to do this with anyone right now, and for you, I'm very sorry." She struggled to push out from underneath him, hopeful she could hold off tears until she got away from him.

Draco was too stunned to realize she was trying to push him off her. He could barely feel her hands pushing on his chest.

no matter how badly I may fancy you…

So that meant…oh shit. Draco thought. Shehad just been scared. It wasn't that it was him; it was just that she felt she was too young still. He'd forgotten she was a year younger than him. Actually, he'd forgotten she was a bloody Good Girl Gryffindor. And he'd probably ruined any chance he'd had to be with her.

Draco turned his thoughts back to Weasley, who was straining to get away from him. And not that he blamed her, after some of the things he'd said.

She sniffled, her eyes watering. "I do believe you've stopped falling now, so if you don't mind getting off me?" She breathed.

She'd given herself up to him (emotionally, not physically) on a silver platter, and he'd thrown it back in her face. Oh, why did I even come here?!

Draco, however, had other ideas. He pulled his torso from hers, sitting on her stomach. Good thing he was so thin.

Ginny sat up and placed her arms behind her, trying to pull the lower half of her body out from underneath the pale blond sitting on her waist. He, however, sat firmly on her, pinning her down.

Ginny strained, then stopped. "What? Haven't you had enough? Go ahead, say something about my family, about how poor we are, or about me, I don't really give a damn anymore." She said, tired, and torn apart.

Draco sighed and pulled her up close to him, crushing him close to him, and stroking her flaming red hair.

Ginny's eyes flickered open. She was staring at his chest, feeling his heart beating softly and erratically against her cheek. Her own seemed to be thudding in her throat.

Draco didn't care anymore. He didn't care that this was Weasley, he didn't care that he was being emotional and actually decent to said Weasley. All he cared about was how perfectly she fit into his arms.

This girl cares for me. He suddenly realized.

Suddenly, Draco felt like grinning. She cared for him. A lot, too, from the way she was sobbing silently into his shirt.

He'd never felt anything like this before. He felt emotions, rusty from neglect resurfacing. He was feeling things he'd never felt, or couldn't remember ever feeling. And as odd as it was that it was Weasley causing them, he actually liked it.

Ginny was frowning, even as she cried. It was puzzling. He wasn't insulting her, he wasn't yelling at her, he wasn't kissing her. He was hugging her. And like his kisses, just this close proximity was clouding her mind. Did he like her?

"I'm sorry." He said, echoing her words from the previous night and running his hands up and down her spines.

Close enough. Ginny thought.

She gently pushed him away, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hand.

Draco stared down at her tear-streaked face, wanting nothing more than to taste them, including the ones gathering at the corners of her mouth. He restrained himself, however, thinking it would be good to at least get on friendly terms with her where he didn't make her cry with every conversation.

Ginny looked up at him, her eyes devoid of but a few tears, gazing hopefully up at him.

"Friends?" She asked.

Draco grinned. A really honest grin.

The result was incredible. Without his customary smirk or demeaning scowl, replaced by an adorable grin no less, Draco looked younger. More innocent.

"Friends." He affirmed.

And hopefully more.

Ginny got back to Jenna's house around nine.

She slipped off her shoes and tiptoed back into the room. She began to change into her pajamas silently.

A light clicked on somewhere behind her. She turned around. Jenna was sitting up in her bed, an expectant look on her face. "So where were you sneaking off to at six in the morning?" She asked, bright, awake, and annoying perceptive.

Ginny flushed. "I just popped over to Dra-Malfoy's for a little chat." She stammered, trying not to look her friend in the face.

Jenna looked at her suspiciously. "Yeah and I was asleep when you left." She said sarcastically.

Ginny gasped. "Jenna!" She said, exasperated.

Her friend giggled. "I knew you'd go see him, but gods, Ginny, couldn't you at least wait 'til morning?"

"It was morning when I left." Ginny protested.

Jenna held up her hands in defeat. "You win." She allowed. "So?" She prompted.

Ginny grinned, giving her friend a thumbs-up. "Emotional crisis over."