Author's Note: Acckkk! More angst and drama. Uh-oh. Things could be getting a little rocky for our love-sick teens. Ha. Um...this was one of my favorite chapters to write, though I know that those of you rooting for the character's happiness won't like it too much. Hehehehe. But please, read it, and try to enjy it, because I really love this chapter. Thanks to all my reviewers.
Disclaimer: Same as the last effing nine chapters. What's mine is mine, what's not is J.K. Rowlings'.
Dancing Life
Chapter 10: The Overwhelming Pain of Devotion
Draco stood for several minutes, staring at the open window, which swayed open and shut continually with each new gust of wind. She was gone. Those three words reverberated in his mind, assaulting him with each echo and increasing until his head was practically pounding with the realization of what he'd done.
He'd hurt her. He hadn't meant to, he just couldn't control himself. He wanted her so badly, and to think that she didn't even care…was like a fate worse than death. Death he could cope with; it was quick, and for the most part painless. After the act itself, there was blissful peace. Nothingness. But a lifetime without Ginny Weasley was bleak and desolate.
It had taken him to nearly beat her up to realize that he loved her.
With the force that he hated everything else in the world, he loved her. For all the contempt he had for everything else, he held only passion and want for her. Suddenly, she wasn't just another girl. She had never really been just another girl, as she was a Weasley and a Gryffindor. But she wasn't just some meaningless girl.
Draco shook his head. He was thinking of her as if she was included in the rest of his life. But she wouldn't be; she had already left it, so suddenly and after such a short time. She was gone before he could realize that he'd lost the most important thing in the world to him. With a start, Draco realized that he had to tell her…everything.
He had to tell her he was sorry, he had to tell her he hadn't meant to hurt her, and most of all, he had to tell her that he loved her.
Making up his mind, he raced down to the common room and bolted out the portal, nearly skidding down the stairs. He raced, faster than he'd ever run inside before. He flew down the stairs, landing with a jarring thud, which he ignored as he burst into the Great Hall. Several bemused eyes stared up at him.
Glancing around the one table being used, Draco only saw one red-head, and that was Ron, sitting between Harry and Hermione, all of whom were staring at him as if he was insane. He rushed up to the trio, panting slightly.
"Where's Ginny?" He asked, even though he knew the answer; it was written in their puzzled faces.
Ron went a bright shade of red and curled his fists. "I don't know, Malfoy. Why don't we go check out in the hallway?" He asked, his voice deep, low, and menacing.
Draco nodded enthusiastically. He didn't care about Weasley's petty tirade; he just needed to find Ginny. Although, the comfort he was gaining from finding that she hadn't run off into Potter's arms was relieving him of his frantic anger.
The odd quartet left the dining hall. The moment they stepped across the threshold into the hallway, Ron was on Draco, fists flying. "You sodding git!" He screamed as Harry and Hermione peeled him off the stunned Slytherin.
Dragging him away into the nearest corner, Harry and Hermione gave Draco wary glances, though one green stare held the slightest bit of grim satisfaction, while the other brown ones held a touch of sadness and disappointment.
"You thought you'd get away with snogging my sister? Eh, you prat?! I could rip your bal-" Hermione pinched him sharply with her fingernails "-er, head, head off! What have you done to her?" He screeched.
Draco rolled his eyes, poking his cheek tenderly, feeling the stinging blow Ron had dealt him. "Not as much as I'd care to tell you about." He sneered, delighting in the red-head before him, whose facial coloring was almost corresponding with his hair.
Ron's jaw dropped, Harry made as if to retch, and Hermione clicked her tongue exasperatedly. "Really, you're both behaving like children. Ron- Ginny's old enough to make her own decisions. Unless she comes to you, I suggest you let her live her life, even if it includes Malfoy. And you-" she turned to Draco, Ron still firmly in her grasp. "-you will take care of that girl, and if we ever hear of you treating her badly, we'll murder you and make it look like an accident." All three males gave her a flabbergasted gaze, under which she went a little pink, but her eyes glinted with a hard, serious edge.
Draco flinched inwardly, thinking of the early morning's episode. "I just need to know where Ginny is." He said simply.
Ron and Harry were still coping with the fact that they had to be partially civil to Malfoy, so Hermione answered his question. "Last I knew, she was in the common room." She shrugged and let go of Ron, beginning to ascend the staircase. "I was going to go grab a book, so I'll check on her, if you'll just wait a tick." She bounded up the stairs and out of sight, leaving three archenemies standing awkwardly together.
Ron glanced up at the staircase, as if the make sure Hermione was really gone. He turned back to Draco, a look of malice and hatred in his eyes, which were so like Ginny's, except for the expression they held.
Where Ginny's were warm with love, Ron's were hardened in pure disgust.
"You know, she doesn't care about you, Malfoy." Ron said snidely, shooting Harry a sneaky glance. "She wants to go to the dance with Harry. She doesn't even like you." He sneered, not really sure if it was true or not, but wallowing in the anger that flashed through the other boy's silver eyes.
Draco composed himself. The last time he'd heard this news, he'd lost Ginny. He wasn't about to do something stupid all over again, and though there was nothing left for him to lose, he didn't think she would be too happy with him if he, per say, killed her brother. "You know, Weasley," he began, surprised to find his voice weary and defeated "right now, it doesn't matter whether or not she likes me. But I have to tell her that I do. I just need to let her know that." He said, detesting the almost pleading edge it took on.
Ron's jaw dropped and he exchanged a look with Harry. They were saved from answering that strange statement by Hermione's re-entrance. She gave them all a quick, relieved glance before making her way down the rest of the stairs. "Good, you refrained from killing each other." She remarked casually.
"Barely." Ron muttered under his breath.
Hermione shook her head as she turned to Draco. "Sorry, she's not up there. But her broom's gone, so she might be out by the lake; she goes there a lot. If she's not there, you can always try the Quidditch pitch." She shrugged her shoulders helplessly.
Draco frowned and turned around , getting ready to leave. As if on second thought, or as though Ginny were perched on his shoulder like an unwavering conscience, Draco about-faced and gave Hermione a little bow. "Thanks." He said, whirling around to go grab his Mercury 500, the latest in the new Cosmic line from his room.
Ginny wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her cloak. She stood from where she'd fallen, legs suddenly nonexistent, to the ground. Wiping soft snow from her cloak, she glanced around with pained eyes. She took off the shimmering outer garment, leaving on just her thin sweater; she wanted to just be numb for a while, hoping that her overactive mind would do the same.
It was Christmas, and she was sitting out in the cold; alone, freezing, and crying. She should be up in the common room with Harry, Hermione, and her brother, and of course, the other Gryffindors. She should be enjoying her presents and a hot, sumptuous Christmas breakfast. Instead, she was by herself, with no presents and no meal.
SNAP!
Ginny whirled around. Or at least, she thought she was by herself. She could have sworn she'd heard a twig breaking. She looked around, but saw nothing. She shook herself mentally. Come on, Ginny, girl. There's nothing there; you're just letting your imagination get to you.
And that was when something lunged from the trees, knocking her down as it tore at her.
Draco flew over the lake. It was frozen around the edges, but the very center was still dark and watery. Ginny wasn't along the banks closer to the school. Draco glanced over at where The Forbidden Forest met the edge of the lake.
She wouldn't…would she? Deciding to at least check, Draco aimed his broom over to the other bank. His grey eyes scanned the shore, looking for the telltale sign of her red-hair. He was about to turn around and head for the Quidditch pitch when out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flash of red. But…it was too dark…
He whirled around and nearly fell from his broom.
"Shit!" He bellowed, diving recklessly to where a serious amount of blood was staining the snow a deep crimson color.
Blaise stirred from a deep, peaceful sleep. He shivered slightly; the room was a little cold, and he realized that he didn't have any blankets on. He sat up slightly, resting on his elbows. A small smile twitched at the corner of his mouth as he looked down in the bed next to him.
Heather was curled up on her side, still in her nightclothes from the night before; it only seemed to be around ten or so. A simple pair of baggy art pants (very much paint-spattered, and slipping down her hips a little) and an old tee. She could have been wearing a gorgeous silk nightgown from the way he was looking at her. Showing an unusual amount of tenderness, he tucked an errant strand of black hair that had escaped her braided pigtails behind her ear.
He was so content just watching her sleep, he didn't hear the door to the room creak open. "Uh…Blaise?" Blaise glanced up. Janet's head popped around the door, and it was apparent from her mussed hair that she had just awoken from the comfortable scene he and Heather had left several hours before.
Blaise smiled and slipped off the bed, careful not to wake Heather. He padded over to the door in his black silk night wear. Janet bit back a grin, glancing at the sleeping form on the bed, leading Blaise out to the living room.
The pull-out bed was still out, but empty, and from the cheery whistling coming from the kitchen (and the delectable smell coming from the same place), Blaise concluded that Skye was fixing breakfast; Janet had never been much of a cook.
Blaise turned back to his cousin, just in time to see the knowing smile disappear from her face, though it still reflected in her eyes. "What are you smirking at?" He asked, plopping down at the small oak breakfast table. It was lucky there were only four of them; that was all the tiny table could take.
Janet did the same, choosing the seat across from Blaise. She gave him a serious look, almost as if she was debating whether or not to tell him something.
Blaise's curiosity was immediately peaked as she obviously had something on her mind. "What?" He asked, bordering on exasperation.
Janet glanced down at her hands, twisting a small silver ring around her finger. "I know I'm not your mother, and all, but I do feel that I should at least say something, or lay down some form of rules. I mean, this is my house, and you are only seventeen. I just don't want you two to get into any kind of trouble, like…" she trailed off and actually went a little pink, throwing an unconscious glance in the direction of the bedroom they'd just left.
Blaise's eyebrows jumped up into his hair as he caught on to what she was stressing about. She didn't want him and Heather to get …shall we say? Physically, at least. Obviously the thought of her younger cousin, almost like a younger brother, going 'under-cover-sheet-dancing' with a young girl in her bed was a bit disconcerting.
The younger boy let out a soft chuckle as his cousin searched for the right words to use. "Jan, Heather and I aren't at that stage yet, after all we are just kids," Not that I'd have any objections if Heather was up to it. He thought silently. "But even if we were, you're one to talk!" He laughed, recalling her loose position with Skye earlier.
Janet blushed at the fact that he'd seen her asleep with Skye, just as the woman of her affections entered the room. This time, her hair was a bright, festive cherry red. Blaise stared as she set down plates of steaming sausages, eggs, toast, pancakes, and biscuits. "Don't you ever just keep one hair color?" He asked, though careful to make his tone inquisitive and amused rather than rude and insulting. "What happens when you run out of colors to use?"
Skye flashed him a large grin. "Good questions. I just like to be different everyday. Most of the time it depends on my mood. Today I felt a little sad, but ultimately happy and alive," she shot Janet a warm look "so I wanted an appearance that matched that.
She shrugged, going back for orange juice and coffee.
Janet nodded towards the bedroom. "Do you want to go wake Heather up?" She asked gently. Blaise stood and walked back to the quiet room. Heather, however, was already awake, and beginning to come out on her own.
"Morning sleepy." He whispered, planting a kiss on the top of her head. Heather glanced up at him, frowning slightly. "I wish you weren't so damned tall." She pouted. "Or rather, I just wish I were taller. It's no fair; you have a kissing advantage. You just have to lean down. I practically-"
"Have to pull out a ladder?" Blaise smirked helpfully. Heather scowled, even more so (though it was difficult to pull off) when Blaise did exactly what she'd been complaining about. Pulling his lips from hers, he grinned. "Lucky me." He cracked, narrowly avoiding her smacking hand as they walked towards the appealing smells coming from the living room.
Ginny barely had time to be scared. When something hurtles towards you at the speed of a bludger, how can you have time to register fear? She scarcely had time to pull her wand from her pocket before the…thing…landed on her chest, knocking her roughly to the ground.
The creature…whatever it was, she couldn't tell; her vision was blocked by a mass of silvery fur…was trying desperately to bite her. Ginny reached up, and, dropping her wand, grabbed the thing's snout as it lowered towards her throat, teeth bared.
Ginny gasped, struggling for air and trying to get away, but also from fear. She was staring up into two yellow eyes. The eyes of a wolf. Though wolves were reported to reside in The Forbidden Forest, they tended to stay away from the part close to the castle, and avoided people. Werewolves on the other hand…
Ginny flailed frantically under the weight of the monster; still holding its' jaws tightly. If it was a werewolf (and she didn't have the time or sense of mind to figure out) she had to get away, fast.
So when the creature pulled out of Ginny's grasp and sunk its' yellowed fangs into her shoulder, Ginny screamed, mostly from pain, but also in panic.
White-hot pain poured through her veins and ate away at her muscles. She could feel the sensation of bone on bone as the thing burrowed its' teeth deeper into her skin.
Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes, blurring her already hazy vision. Then, the pressure was gone from her shoulder, although the agonizing pain lingered, throbbing to the frenzied beat of her heart.
Ginny opened her eyes a little wider and tried to sit up. And then the jaws were there again, tightening on her upper arm. "Aaaaggggghhhhhh!" Her scream echoed throughout the empty clearing, doing nothing to ease her feeling of helplessness and isolation from the rest of the world. Pain rammed into her as the creature jostled her arm in its' jaw, forcing her back down in the snow. She felt blackness edging in; she could see it in her peripheral vision.
She strained against the weight that seemed to be everywhere at once. The pain on the left side of her body (from both her shoulder and arm) was overwhelming, and she was on the verge of unconsciousness.
Ginny's eyes snapped open. She couldn't let that happen. With her free arm she felt alongside her in the snow. After a few fumbling seconds, her numb fingers finally closed around her wand. She shut her eyes again, but this time for concentration.
"Stupefy!" She shouted, voice rasping from the force of her cry, sounding desperate and wild even to herself. The cracking pressure on her arm subsided as a massive weight collapsed on her chest, crushing her last remains of breath from her lungs.
Ginny thrashed about violently, feeling her limbs aching from the fruitless struggle. She was growing wearier, colder, and completely breathless. Wedging her hands between her chest and the beast, she willed herself to use the last of her strength in pushing the thing's inert body off her own.
Ginny rolled over in the snow, taking a deep, shuddering breath as she lay on her side. She looked down.
Red.
Everything was red. Ginny gasped and backed up quickly, only to fall back down in the ruby snow. Oh gods. She thought, her breath coming with more difficulty and in short pants. That's…my blood. A wave of nausea swept over her, and she felt her stomach contract.
Nothing happened, but Ginny felt ready to be sick. She clutched a hand to her stomach, just to discover that it was covered in more of her blood. It was running down her chest and stomach, and her arm was completely soaked in the sticky red substance. Oh my gods, it's my blood. It's my blood. Itsmyblooditsmyblooditsmyblooditsmyblooditsmyblood. Ohgodsitsmyblood.
She began to hyperventilate, sitting in the cold snow, her fingers and lips turning blue from cold, but she barely noticed it. All she could see was her blood. Understandable, since it seemed to be everywhere.
She could have been resting there for hours, even days, but it could have only been a few seconds. Somewhere among the thoughts of her blood, she suddenly realized with a cold shock just how much she had lost, and was still losing.
She collapsed in the soft snow, not noticing, or really, just not caring how cold it was against the bare skin of the back of her neck and hands. Unexpectedly, she felt a feeling of lightness bordering on euphoria come over her. She felt, strangely enough like laughing, which scared her, as she was beginning to think she had lost a bit too much blood.
And then she felt faint.
Moaning softly, she closed her eyes. She let the pain overtake her. She let the blackness creep in around her, let it overcome her body and mind, dimming her senses. She felt dull and tired and let her muscles relax into entropy. She stopped fighting it.
Ginny Weasley gave up.
Draco dove down lower and lower. At first, all he had seen was a wide circle of red spreading slowly as something that looked suspiciously like blood seeped into the snow.
And then he saw her. Her green sweater was barely noticeable underneath all the blood it was covered in, and her hair was also matted with the sticky substance; but it was her. There was no mistaking it.
He hardly realized there was a wolf's body next to hers. All he could see was her…and she was in trouble. Draco lowered himself down onto his broom handle, urging his broom to go faster. He didn't even bother to land; he just jumped off his still-moving broom, falling to his knees before scrambling towards Ginny's motionless form.
He crouched down, once he was beside her. He shook her shoulders gently, wincing slightly as he recalled doing something similar, but more forcibly. "Weasley? Weasley? Weasley, get up!" He was screaming now, frantic that she still wasn't moving.
He dropped to his knees. "Ginny! Ginny, damnit, get up! You can't do this to me. You've got to get up." She didn't move, and her breathing was growing steadily shallower. "GET UP!" He shouted, surprised to find tears leaking unbidden from his eyes. He rubbed her cheek, trying to make them light up with their normal pink tinge.
"Please, Ginny. Wake up. I…" he stared down at her, feeling immensely guilty and for the first time in his life…scared. Not even for himself, either. "…I love you, Ginny."
He knelt down and wrapped her in his arms, regardless of the thick flow of blood that was staining his immaculate robes. "Please, don't die on me."
"That's funny."
Draco pulled away to look down at her.
She was grinning softly, as though she was in a pleasant dream, not as though she'd just lost a ton of blood, and was probably bleeding to death in the stone cold snow. "I love you too, Draco."
Her chocolate eyes were half-shut, and she was in a great deal of pain, though from her light tone, it was somewhat dulled. That was not good. If she'd gone past feeling physical pain, she was on the brink of…he wouldn't think about that.
She opened her mouth again, and Draco saw a tiny line of blood seep from the corner, standing out in stark contrast to her unusually pale skin. She tried to say something, but before she could get the words out, her eyes were un-focusing and she was slipping back into darkness.
He suddenly realized how stupid he was. The first thing he should have done was to haul her up to the infirmary. Instead he had to get all emotional and…why did he have to get suddenly sentimental? For the first time (he was having quite a few 'firsts' today) he was wishing he could be stoic and dispassionate, like his father had drilled him to be so often.
Right now, though…
He scooped her up in his arms effortlessly and carried her limp body over to where his broom had fallen in the snow some ten feet away. Heaving her up onto the broom with him(with much difficulty), he sighed. This was going to be one hell of a long ride.