Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter.
A/N- I am in the process of switching a few stories from one author page to this one, and this is one of them, revised and edited. Just a note, I am aware Ginny's name is Ginevra and not Virginia. It just fit better with the story. Please review and nit pick and be long. I want all the constructive criticism I can get. Oh yes, this story was written along to In My Room by Incubus, so if you want to listen to it while you are reading, I recommend it. And please check out my other story Monuments and Melodies. And with said, enjoy!
Distinguished
He hates parties. He does not know why he is here.
Scattered across the large ballroom are different yet very similar groups of people. While the faces are different, there are the same mannerisms, the same dignified cackle coming from each and everyone of them. Every person here is dressed impeccably, and it makes him feel awkward in his plain grey suit.
He does not know where to go, or what group he belongs in. Instead he wanders, moving between the throngs idly, heading in the relative direction of the refreshment table. A waiter with a tray of odd looking fish catches his eye. He turns to grab the man's attention, but bumps into someone behind him instead. Murmuring a timid apology, he turns around and sees her.
She is beautiful. Her crimson hair is piled upon her head with a clever comb, and the sleek black dress she wears is somewhat revealing. The slit that runs up her left leg shows off her tall stilettos, and the choker around her neck is pure diamond. Her chocolate eyes are made up, a green shadow surrounding her lids. The blush on her cheeks almost hides the freckles he knows are there.
"Excuse me," he says again. He wonders if she recognizes him.
"Not a problem," she says in a voice he can not identify. It is deep and slurred, almost a drawl. She barely looks at him, turning back to her faction, completely waving him off.
He is surprised. Maybe she is not who he thought she was, but he watches her to make sure. He watches as she gives a sophisticated chortle to the last witty comment made, as she swirls her apple martini, as she gives off another withering retort. She is the belle of the ball.
She is different from the belle he once knew.
He starts moving again, greeted by various people he can not and would not remember. He smiles politely at each one, but always, an eye is kept on her. From a distance, he watches her through the night.
She is alone. Though she hangs in with the group, she is still alone. There is no one who comes to her side with a new drink or holds her as she charms the many guests with her charms. Or at least this is what he thought.
Half-way through, a platinum haired man appears next to her, in his hand another apple martini and his arm wrapped low around her waist. The platinum haired man stands out with his strong features and majestic green suit. She seems surprised by his arrival, but accepts the drink and plants a light kiss on his pale cheek.
He moves closer to her and the platinum haired man with a scowl. He does not like this intruder. He never has.
Upon closer expression, he can see her expression has changed. It no longer holds the amused smirk, but know carries a blithe smile as she chats. But he can tell her talking is strained and her posture is stiff, not fluid like she was before. The platinum man is simpering, throwing any clever remark he can out in the open. He is enjoying himself, chuckling arrogantly and pulling her closer.
Though she hides it well, he can tell she is still cringing.
She tries to pull away a bit, supplying an excuse of wanting another drink, but the platinum haired man only holds her tighter, ordering another man in the group to get it for her. She gives him a small thank you, and he accepts it, but there is a dangerous glint in his eye.
He can tell her confidence is fading. The platinum haired man is making her nervous, and she has lost all the grace she held for the uneasy blush of a school girl. She grows quiet, and at first he does not mind, but as she falls silent, he is frustrated. The tension is growing between the two and to escape, once more she requests departure for another drink. The platinum haired man will not let her go. Instead he stomps off, fetching her a drink himself, taking much longer than necessary. When he comes back, he shoves the drink into her hands and storms off not returning.
The group is in an awkward silence, and she makes a silly excuse to leave. He watches as she flees out to the balcony.
He follows her.
The balcony is large, overlooking the ocean below. He can hear the waves crashing against the cliff side in a melodic rhythm. She is leaning of the stone railing, her apple martini beside her. He approaches her softly.
"Hello, Ginny," he addresses her. She sighs, but does not look back.
"Virginia,"
"What?" he asks.
"My name is Virginia." She turns around, a weary look on her face. Still, she does not recognize him. He comes closer, standing beside her by the railing.
"You look different," he comments, looking out on the murky waters. Her red lips shut in a frown.
"Who are you?"
"Why? Do you not remember me?"
"Apparently, you are not even worth remembering," she says coldly, picking up her drink and taking another sip. He remains silent.
"I think I'm worth a little more than that, Ginny,"
"I told you before, it's Virginia."
"I thought you hated that name."
Her eyes narrow, "Who are you?" she demands.
"I'm Harry."
Her mouth drops, and she stares at him a moment before her eyes click in identification.
"Your hair-" she points out, still surprised.
"I cut it."
"And your glasses-"
"A corrective charm."
She looks him over again, frowning and furrowing her eyebrows. "What do you want?" she says finally.
"Is it a crime to say hello?"
"You've done that. Why are you still here?" she snaps, taking another gulp from her drink.
"I thought we could catch up on things." He supplies.
"Catch up?" she snorts, "Well, isn't that just grand!"
"It's been a long time-"
"What? You think I can't do simple math? Of course it's been a bloody long time!"
"We've been worried-"
"Don't tell me this is another one of my mother's ploys to get me to come back to the 'good side,' to make me finally realize what a bad girl I've been," she says bitterly, swallowing more of her martini.
"Ginny, your mother's dead." Harry says softly, looking to the stone ground. She stops suddenly, her face dropping.
"I know," she says, "I- I must have just forgotten."
"Are you alright?" he questions, concerned.
She nods, "I'm fine."
"You don't seem fine. You weren't fine out here and you weren't fine out there." He gestures to the ballroom.
"What would you know about it?"
"A lot more than you think, Ginny."
"My name is Virginia!" she hisses, getting another swig of her drink.
"Ginny- Virginia- whatever! I just want to know if you're okay!"
"I told you- I am fine!"
"No, you're not! What has he been doing to you, Ginny?" he softens, putting his hand to her cheek. Her eyes flick to his hand, but she does not try to remove it.
"Nothing," she whispers. Her eyes grow wide, and her lips part. He can see just the bottom of her top teeth. A familiar blush rises in her face and he finds her more beautiful than ever. Not able to the let the moment pass, he bends down and places his lips on hers, initiating a kiss. She replies, deepening it and wrapping her arms around his neck.
He falls into the kiss, letting out all the mixed emotions, the passions, and the resentments he has held for her for so long. She responds, biting back with need, with urgency, with hope. It is different from any kiss he has had before, like the sun has finally risen after a sleepless night, like if he lets go, he will die.
But the kiss is over before it begins. Someone is calling her name. She quickly pushes Harry away, her nervous eyes trailing to the entry way and a hand on her swollen lip.
The platinum haired man appears on the balcony, throwing a glare at her, "Virginia," he says sharply, "What are you doing out here?"
She looks blankly between Harry and the platinum haired man, "Nothing," she replies, "Just getting a bit of fresh air."
His eyes flick to Harry, shooting daggers before he turns back to her. "That's enough then. The Zabinis are here. It's time you came back in."
"Just give me a moment."
"Now, Virginia," he orders. She looks utterly helpless, sending a message of need. Her eyes turn back to Harry's green ones, begging for help, but he does nothing. She sighs softly, not loud enough for anyone but Harry to hear.
"Of course, Draco," she submits, following the platinum haired man inside, completely forgetting about the apple martini that still sat on the railing.
He watches them go, cursing softly under his breath. Looking to the glass, he finds that there is still a bit of the green drink inside. He picks it up and swallows the rest in one gulp. Calling it a night, he slams the glass on the railing and stalks out, wishing for sleep more than ever.
-----
It is two days later, and he is eating a bowl of cereal in his flat. An owl taps on the window holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in his talons. Harry lets the creature in, giving it payment, and taking the newspaper from his claws.
He sits back down and opens the paper. There is a picture of a girl on the cover. She is beautiful. Her crimson hair is piled upon her head with a clever comb, and the sleek black dress she wears is somewhat revealing. The slit that runs up her left leg shows off her tall stilettos, and the choker around her neck is pure diamond. Her chocolate eyes are made up, a green shadow surrounding her lids. The blush on her cheeks almost hides the freckles he knows are there.
"SUICIDE AT MALFOY MANOR," the headline reads.