AN: Hello all, RickyRemembers here. This story is not mine, but instead Heartofthe-Dragonfly. She is closing her account and wanted this story to remain on the site, so i'm hosting it for her. Leave some reviews and i'll make sure she gets them! Enjoy though!
I'll Think of a Reason Later
He ran his hands through her fiery red hair, smoothing out tangles and letting it cascade down her shoulders. She leaned against him lazily, her arm reaching up to grab one of his hands. She brought it to her lips gently before wrapping his arm around her. He pulled her closer to him, burying his face in her hair.
She was the most beautiful person he'd ever known, and the only one who understood him. He knew he shouldn't even look at her, but whenever he was near her the feeling was just too powerful to ignore and he knew he had to have her.
He heard something crumble behind him and suddenly he and Ginny were sitting as far apart as they possibly could, both looking around frantically. It turned out to be a squirrel running along behind them in the grass. Ginny smiled a little but Draco hung his head. They could never be together. He knew that. She knew that. Yet here they were, sitting on the outskirts of the forbidden forest, cuddling. The whole situation was completely ridicules, and completely hopeless.
Ginny inched closer to him, snaking her arms around his neck from the side. He sighed loudly as she bumped her head against his lightly, as if she were a cat asking for attention. And just like a cat, she always got what she wanted.
He fell backwards onto the ground, pulling her down with him as her arms were still tight around his neck. She nuzzled closer to him and he could feel her breath on his neck.
"What're you thinking about?" She whispered.
"You." He answered simply, turning his head to kiss her. She smiled at him when he pulled away.
"Is it an interesting subject?" She asked. He nodded.
"But it's complicated." He wrapped one arm around her waist and used the other to prop under his head. He tried to remember how this whole thing had started, and how a Weasley had come to have such power over him.
It started with casual run-in's in the library or at dinner or during Quittich. They'd be rude or ignore each other as best they could. When that stopped working, they would just silently stare. And thus began their staring game. At meal times, they would lock gazes and hold it no matter who they were talking to, and most days that wasn't anyone. In the library, on the Quidditch pitch, in the corridors, and in the Owlry. They hadn't said a word to each other for over two months when Ginny finally confronted him, pulling him into one of the many empty classrooms.
"Just what are you playing at?" She spat harshly. He quirked an eyebrow.
"Are we playing games then? Is that what you call 'not being able to take my eyes off Draco'?" He was rewarded when her cheeks turned vibrant pink.
"What about not being able to take your eyes off a Weasley?" She asked, crossing her arms over her stomach. He sneered.
"I was only staring at you because you were staring at me. You started it Weasley." He took a step forward and she mimicked him, her anger becoming obvious.
"I did not! You're the one who started staring at me." She clenched her fists down to her sides. Draco took one more step forward, effectively closing the distance between them and making Ginny's nerve falter.
"Prove it." His voice was dangerously low. Her eyes were burning with rage at him, and he fed off it. He didn't even have to say anything else, he just smirked at her, and then she smacked him. He stumbled back a few feet, and when he looked up at her he saw her breathing heavily with repressed anger.
"Why you no good Weasley!" He leapt at her then, and she almost got out of the way but he grabbed her wrist and spun her around, hooking one arm around her back and pinning her to him. "I'll show you to think you can hit me and get away with it!" He tightened his grip on her arm and she brought her foot painfully into his shin.
She twisted away from him but he still held onto her hand. She struggled against him for a moment until finally swinging her free hand at his face. He dodged it and her arm swung around his neck forcefully, causing her to stumble into him. He took the few steps needed to ram her up against the wall before looking back at her.
"Want to try and fight me now Weasley? Let's see how far you get!" She struggled another moment before finally going limp in surrender. She turned painful brown eyes on him.
"You think you're so brave, so strong, just because you can take down one Gryffindor girl. What an accomplishment for a Slytherin who's had everything given to him and never had to work for any of it because of Daddy Dearest!" She hissed. He once again tightened his grip on her arm and pushed her forcefully into the wall.
"You know nothing about me." He whispered. "You understand that! Nothing!" He yelled. She squeezed her eyes shut, obviously expecting a blow, but nothing happened. Instead of hitting her, he let her go. She opened her eyes in shock as he stepped back and stumbled into a table, falling into a chair. She stood there, shocked for a moment before rubbing her injured wrist.
"Get out of here." He said quietly, and painfully. She didn't move. "Didn't you hear me Weasel? Leave! Get out!" He yelled at her again. She stumbled along the wall to the door, shooting one last look at him before running out.
Despite what he thought was going to happen, she never told anyone. Their encounter remained private and although he tried not to stare at her, it was hard. Her eyes were constantly on him, burning into him. He didn't know what she saw, or why she kept looking, but he did know something was wrong with him. Why had he let her go? Why had her words about his father affected him so much? And why couldn't he stop thinking about her?
It wasn't long before she confronted him again. Their second encounter was less violent, but no less confusing. This time it was out on the grounds near evening. He had been out for a walk when she'd run up to him from behind.
"What Weasley, didn't learn your lesson? Back for a rematch?" He sneered, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"What's your problem Malfoy? You stare at me to no end for two months and then when I ask you about it you attack me!" He stopped and turned towards her, anger rising in him again.
"First of all, you were staring at me. And second, you hit me first, so you started it." He said angrily. She took a deep breath and nodded.
"Okay, I started that; true." They were silent for another moment just standing there. Finally he turned and started walking again, hoping to be rid of her, but no such luck. She fell into step beside him. It was a long time before either one of them said anything again and it was a very tense silence. He stopped by the smaller lake, on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, and stood staring at it for a while.
"Curious, why didn't you hit me?" She asked at last, finally looking up at him.
"Because you'd of run to Professor McGonagall and gotten us both in trouble." He refused to look at her.
"I would not have!" she protested.
"Right, and you wouldn't have gone crawling to Madam Pomfrey either for the bloody lip I suppose?" He spat, staring reproachfully at the water. She was quiet a moment.
"Well I didn't tell did I?" She said, as if that meant something.
"Because I didn't hit you." He gritted his teeth. He wanted her to leave.
"You want a rematch? Lets go, right here. Now there are no walls to pin me up against, lets see how long you last." She held up her fists, glaring at him menacingly. The sight actually made him smile a little, but he didn't let her see it.
"Oh please Weasley, spare me. You couldn't take me if you--" he was cut off when her fist connected with his jaw. Stunned, he stumbled and lost his footing which sent him tumbling to the ground. He heard her gasp and kneel down beside him as though she hadn't meant to do that. Right.
"Oh my gosh, I didn't actually think…" She muttered trying to place a hand on his arm. He raised a hand to his lip where he felt blood seep onto his fingers. He stiffened when she put a hand on his neck to make him look at her.
"Get off!" He commanded, batting her hands away. She stood and offered him a hand. He looked at it for a moment and then at her before taking it. She helped him up but didn't quite let go of his hand. He other hand was still dabbing at his split lip.
"Draco I'm sorry, I didn't actually mean to…" She muttered, and then looked down and a small smile crossed her lips. "Well I supposed I did, and it felt pretty good actually, but I really didn't think I'd actually hit you!" She finished hurriedly. He hadn't heard any of it. The only thing that stuck in his mind was her first word.
"What did you call me?" He asked harshly. No Gryffindor, in the history of Gryffindor's had called him that. She looked up at him with wide eyes.
"Well, erm… Draco I guess." She let go of his hand abruptly, and pulled her arms around herself. They stayed that way for a while, neither one daring to move. He finally dropped his hand from his mouth and turned away from her. He sat down cross-legged facing the water. Ginny, not really knowing what to do joined him a minute later.
"Maybe I should tell on you to professor Snape for that, get you a good detention scrubbing cauldrons." He reached up to touch his lip again and it stung, and he reveled in the thought of getting her in trouble for it.
"Fine, then I'll have to tell McGonagall you sexually assaulted me." She leaned back unalarmed but he yelped.
"What? I did no such thing!" He protested, turning toward her.
"How do I know that? We were in a room, alone, and you had me pinned to a wall…" She trailed off, making her point quite clear.
"Alright, point taken." He turned back to the water, looking for a stone to skip, or something to do with his hands. When he found nothing, he settled for clasping his hands together tightly, trying to cut the circulation off. He didn't really know why, it was just something to do.
The next half an hour was the most awkward he had ever spent with another human being. He tried to make conversation once or twice, but to no avail. The other thing that bugged him was that she wasn't leaving, had barely moved really, and he couldn't make himself tell her to go. He almost didn't want her to go. The silence was uncomfortable, but there was a bit of warmth in her presence that he didn't find in any Slytherin.
"It's getting late." She spoke at last. He nodded and she made no move to get up. "Is your lip okay?"
"You didn't hit me that hard, of course its okay." He snapped. She curled her legs up to her chest. He felt her eyes on him again and it was driving him mad. If she didn't stop doing that soon, he was going to do something drastic. He didn't quite know what yet, but something.
"Hey Malfoy," She spoke quietly. "You ever kissed anyone before?" Now that was a weird question. There couldn't be any harm in answering, could there?
"Of course I have. To many to count. Why do you ask?" He turned his head around to look at her and she shrugged.
"Never kissed anyone before. What's it like?" She looked back at him with curious eyes. He suddenly became nervous under her gaze and ordered his mind to control itself.
"I… well its… its like… I don't know its hard to explain." He stuttered. Why was he loosing control like this? He should leave, right now, no delays. Just leave.
"I thought you said you'd kissed before." She questioned, obviously liking the chance to catch him off guard.
"I have. Oh Hells, why don't you go ask your brother, or Scar-head, sure they'd be willing to describe it to you." He sneered, massaging the blood back into his hands. It wasn't doing much, as all the blood in his body seemed to be rushing to his face.
"Are you kidding? That's like suicide. I can see the headlines now: Death by Ear Bleed." She joked, laughing quietly.
"And asking me is safe?" He questioned, raising a curious eyebrow at her. She squirmed a bit.
"Just seemed like a good idea." She didn't say anything else, instead just playing with strands of the unruly red hair. He watched her, wondering if his eyes burned her the same ways hers burned him.
Then silver had met brown and everything else happened in a blur of colors and sounds. She'd asked him something. He hadn't listened. She'd leaned closer to him. They'd locked lips, and rolled down the hill together. She'd ended up on top of him, smiling shyly. He hadn't known what to do; he'd been so overwhelmed. She kept kissing him and kept messing with his senses. He couldn't think, couldn't move, he could barely breath, all because this shy redhead had made a move for him. They'd stayed there, kissing and cuddling until curfew had come.
He hadn't known what to do. The only thing he knew was that after that night, nothing was ever going to be the same for him. It had never made sense to him, even now, that a Mudblood loving Weasley could make his world so much clearer. They'd continued seeing each other. They'd told each other everything, shared every memory, and begun to understand each others worlds.
He'd told her about his father and the childhood he'd missed out on. She told him about her brothers, and how each one had a name for themselves while she remained invisible. He told her about his mother acting like a ghost in every form of the word and about his father and the death eaters. She'd told him about her experience in the chamber with Voldermort and how she could never write in a diary again. He'd told her how much he actually loathed being who he was, with no friends, no perfect family, and no way to make his own destiny. She'd listened, and argued, and comforted, and cried, and cared.
Some things however, had not changed. She still believed that 'pureblood' was a myth, and that every wizard or witch had the right to their powers, muggle-born or not. He still believed the exact opposite. There were some things that were impounded into their heads since birth, and those just couldn't be changed. But despite their differences they still met every afternoon on the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest, where no one could see them.
"Your awfully quiet." She whispered, and he started out of his reflection. She looked at him awkwardly, but he just shook his head indicating he didn't want to talk.
He pressed his lips to her again, flooding with repressed emotions; pain, fear, depression. If anyone ever found out… he couldn't even think about what would happen to them. But she'd once told him that she would rather live like she was going to die tomorrow, than to die tomorrow and never have lived. He assumed it was a quote she'd heard somewhere, but it seemed to fit them just fine.
Whatever tomorrow brought, they had today. And today was enough until tomorrow.