A Broken Rose

Draco once again settled down in what had now become his favorite spot in the whole library. The spot where he had had his first conversation with Miss Ginny Weasley. He shivered ever so slightly, thinking about when he had brushed his finger tips against her hand, thinking about the shocks that had sent shooting through his body. He remembered how close she had been, he remembered the feeling of her lips just above his own...

And now he found himself wondering whether or not she would go to the dance with him, if he asked her. After all, no one had to know it was the two of them. They could be in costumes...Draco smiled thinly, remembering his childhood. He had never dressed up for Hallowe'en. His father had always thought it inferior of him to do so. Draco sneered at the air, feeling like the books, for once, were not looking down at him with warm eyes, but cold ones as they registered in their pages who his father was. Thinking back, Draco realized that his father was the only reason that he had not enjoyed his childhood. His father was the only reason Draco hadn't enjoyed alot of things. His first kiss for one.

Draco knew that Pansy kissing him had been planned. He had seen the look of almost-nervousness in his father's eyes as he had left the room, he had seen the fidgeting of Pansy's parents. He had heard their controlled whispering in the room over as Pansy's lips had crushed his. Because of his father, he hadn't enjoyed the wonder of a true kiss. A kiss out of affection. Not out of the fact that your parents had told you to, with the threat of a beating if you didn't. He could understand Pansy's triumph, and if he hadn't kissed her, he would have understood her horror as well. Draco would bet all the money in his vault at Gringotts that that night Pansy had been paid well. Very well.

Draco sighed and felt the unquenchable urge to spit. Spit right there in the library. He remembered the bitter, salty taste of Pansy slimy tongue sliding against his, he remembered it all, and felt his breakfast churn uncomfortable in his stomach. He wouldn't think of that now, he decided, not now.

Draco returned to Ginny. He closed his eyes, laying is forehead against the rim of the table, and thinking about her, and her alone. God, she was beautiful. She was everything he'd ever wanted. She was everything to him. She was his life. But this morning...He remembered the bags beneath her ice blue eyes, the way her lips were pale and chapped. Her hair had been messy, knotted and untamed, as if she had done nothing to make herself even in the slightest presentable this morning. He shuddered, remembering the look of hidden fear he had detected in her eyes, those eyes that were usually dancing with life and vibrance, with an undeniable need to live.

But what had scared that look out of her eyes this morning? He made a mental connection, watching as it formed in his head. Something had happened last night. He remembered how last night he had stayed awake, because she was a awake too. Awake and afraid. He remembered the mental waves of support he had sent to her, trying with all his might to take her pain and depression away from her, to instead bestow it upon himself, if the need arose. Oh lord, he would do anything just to see her wake up every morning with a smile on her face...He would do anything to have her wake up next to him with a smile on her face...

Draco trying to controll his thoughts again. It was times like these he wondered whether his love for her was more lust than anything. He had never experienced lust before, but he thought he knew what it was. It was a purely physical, sexual attraction to some one. Yet, whenever he doubted his love for her, he would continuously remind himself of all the hours he spent thinking of her-- not her body. She was attractive-beautiful, is you may- but she was also smart, confident...she had so many desirable qualities. Qualities that Draco, too, prided himself in.

Sighing, Draco got up, oblivious to a slight stirring behind him. He gathered his things and headed off to his first class of the day, fifteen minutes early.

----------

Ginny sat behind a bookshelf, watching through a gap in the neat line of books as Draco got up and left. Tears poured down her cheeks, but she didn't know why. She didn't know why the aspect of having to avoid him hurt her so much--and she didn't know why, this first morning, it was so hard to do.

She had watched as he headed out of the Great Hall, apparently something the Parkinson girl had said had set him off the mood for breakfast, and, on a wild impulse, she had followed him. She had crept silently behind him, watching his erect, straight back, so disciplined and perfect, his broad shoulders...and she had been so tempted to creep up right behind him and hug him, kissing that spot right behind his neck--the spot she knew would drive him crazy.

More tears escaped their ice blue prisons, and Ginny found a few silent sobs escaping her mouth. She thought of never being able to feel his arms around her, warm and protective...she thought of never being able to feel his lips on hers, and to feel his silky hair between her fingers...She took a deep, yet pathetically shuddery breath. And then she thought of Tom, and his cold, cruel eyes, his pale skin and dark hair, always askew. She thought of his distinctly handsome features, but of the horrible stoney heart that lay behind the charming outlook...and she found herself wondering, not for the first time, wondering if Draco was like that, too.

And she wondered that if, that time earlier in the hallway, she had broken her promise to avoid him, and had hugged him from behind, if he would have pushed her away and spat some kind of insult at her. More tears poured down her cheeks, knocked their ancestors to her lap. She wondered so many things. And, deep down, she knew that if she avoided him, most of her questions, would never be answered.

"Oh, what have I done?" she pondered miserably aloud, "Why have I started this game? What has it earned me but a...but a...broken heart??" It was a serious term, 'broken heart,' but some how Ginny knew it was right for this situation. She knew. Draco Malfoy, within the course of a day and a night, had broken her heart. Or had Tom broken it for him?

"I hate you Tom," Ginny said very suddenly. It was the first time she had ever said it aloud, though, ever since he had betrayed her, she had known it and felt it in her heart. More tears piled up in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. She just wanted to live her life-- she wanted to live her life with Draco. She didn't care to question whether or not he returned her feelings. She didn't care. And if he didn't...well...atleast she'd have found out for sure. She didn't want to live wondering and pondering over this. She wanted to act, to be rid of the past and to live the now--the present. Most of all, though she wanted to be rid of Tom. To escape his cold acts towards her, to escape everything about him. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," she said, louder each time, "Leave me alone, to live my life. Haven't you ruined it enough?"

Sourly, Ginny clutched her head, pulling at her hair. 'No,' came her amused and abruptanswer.

Very suddenly, she began to feel faint, dizzy. The world began to spin, and the only thing she could make out clearly was a dark figure...Tom...Ginny felt as her head hit the ground, and the last thing she saw before her world dissolved into darkness, was Tom's evil face looming over her, a wicked, sour smile on her face...

Author's Note: Hope you guys liked. I know I did. ::WinkWink:: Gets rather interesting next chapter. Maybe some good old underage smut, or maybe in the chapter after that. Tell me what you think about the idea of smut in this story, 'cuz I'm unsure about it. Smut ain't my fave thing to write, but I do write it. So, I you think the story needs some smut, I have the perfect place to fit it in, if you don't, I have another scenario that you guys might like, too. So, review. Thanx....