Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or places mentioned in this story nor the song excerpt the beginning and am making no money off of this chapter. Aurhor's Note: Yay! I updated after a year of no fanfiction. Sorry, life and school kinda caught up with me plus I had boy issues kinda… I guess you could call it that. Whatever. I hope this chapter blows your socks off and that you are thorually excited for Draco and Ginny in chapters to come. This is my favorite unfinished story and I look forward to how it might end. Thanks for being patient and reading!
If you would like to read some of the non-fiction teenage angst I've written recently, check out http/musescornerke. - I'm Dan there.

Sometimes I have good days and it's good to be me
Sometimes I get the best of insecurity
And it's quite alright to be the one and only
But today I feel like the one and lonely

(Oh, the one and lonely)
We all have bad hair days
Those nothing good about me days
Just keep moving on cuz they'll be gone
And we'll still be here going on
We have our yesterdays
No lunch cuz the jeans don't fit days
Just keep moving on cuz they'll be gone
And we'll still be here going on
- The One and Lonely, Superchick

Wanted VI
Crushed

What a terrible wish it was, to wish to be normal. To wish for stability, for harmony, and just for once, to not hear voices in her head.
That, above all things, was what she wanted for Christmas.
How dreadful, she knew, to want to become generic, to not stand out, and to have no other reputation than "Oh, she's nice." But after her first year, and by sheer luck, Ginny Weasley began to wonder if being different, if being special, was really all it was cracked up to be. Now, she had realized, that normalcy was underrated and underappreciated.

The ruby red stone glittered around her neck reflecting the light from the crackling fireplace. Her dull knitting needles clicked together as they wove over and around each other almost on their own, as she let her tired mind drift elsewhere. Pearl-colored yarn trailed over one of her armrests, green over the other, and together, they met and mingled on her midsection, intertwining themselves with clicks of the knitting needles.
One, she was well aware of, did not simply wake up being normal; normal being what everyone else was, and what she desperately wanted to be. She knew that she must work at it until she could truthfully say that she was just like everyone else. Exchanging gifts was a normal enough activity for this time of season, she rationalized when she first started knitting. And so, she decided that she would be polite and return the favor - complete the gift-giving circle that Malfoy had initiated with her.

Having limited financial resources, she decided to sacrifice time that would've been wasted anyway and knit him a scarf. It was perfect for her situation: a completely appropriate and neutral thank-you gift that sought nothing more from their somewhat platonic relationship.
How surprised she had been when she had opened the bag he had left and seen his gift. Ginny knew that her handmade gift couldn't hold a candle to the pricey items he had purchased for her. She found them to be of much use to her, the quills making her holiday essays a breeze to begin and complete. Words seemed to flow from her brain down through her arm and fingers and ink themselves through the stem of the pointed feather tip, and she delightfully finished her homework early. As silly as it sounded, the quills almost inspired her.
This, in and of itself, was a relief. Her greatest weakness came when she felt completely overwhelmed, hopeless and depressed. When her work seemed to be without end was when the mantra "I'll never get it all done" began to change to "I can't ever get it done", slowly morphing itself into "I can't do anything at all." Tom's laughter could only fill and echo in such hollowness and he reveled in her feelings of worthlessness. It was hard to climb out of such a hole that she had made for herself, and it was often with tears and lonely nights. And now, thanks to Malfoy, nothing of the sort would be happening.
But the necklace … the necklace was different. It was a beautiful fire red crystal, striking and simple on a black leather choker. Alone, it was elegant and it was classy. But when she wore it, it made her red hair belong on her head and her freckles coordinate with the red and black. And how it made her feel! She felt all those things when she wore it: elegant, classy, beautiful, desirable - seductive, even. It gave her confidence, to feel the flat backside of it hit her chest when she moved and have its now familiar weight wrapped around her neck. Having been given the necklace - by a handsome boy, no less - made her feel special, and proud to merit such a beautiful gift. This, she reasoned, was a normal thing.
She set down her needles and touched the crystal, wrapping her hands around it and squeezing it. The necklace had personality, and it had promise. It was one of those gifts a boy gave to a girl who meant something to him, and while Ginny tried to suppress it, she secretly rejoiced. And in the next moment, she would chide herself for thinking such inappropriate things about her and Malfoy, mentally thank him for it, and resume working.

In her extra time, she began to journal in the blank writing book Malfoy had given her. She was careful to keep her thoughts and words positive, as well as her attitude towards things. She was determined to not give Tom any leeway into her spirit, into her soul, into her thoughts, words, actions and life. For the most part, it worked. Occasionally, she'd slip and fall into the chasm of darkness and back into the Chamber of Secrets, but it began to get easier to avoid those holes and continue on her daily struggle towards normalcy. And this holiday, it finally seemed within grasp.

Tonight, she resolved in the comfy armchair, she would be strong. She would be focused and motivated and driven. She would step away from the darkness before she would have to swim out from it, drive away the fog in her mind before it encircled and consumed her. Tonight, she had a purpose, and she was given purpose when she was born, and she would not lose it. If only for tonight, she scrawled on the blank page of today, I'll be strong.
It was hard, and she knew it would be. The chants that echoed inside her head were too clichéd to be truly comfortable and she found herself doubting herself. 'Fuel for Tom's fire,' she'd think before starting up another corny self-motivated chant. 'I refuse to be burned'.
'This is ridiculous,' she would tell herself. And in the next moment, 'I refuse to be burned.'

Ah ah ah, you missed a stitch, Tom whispered inside her ear as her fingers slipped in surprise. May the burning begin, he said with a cruel smile.
Go away, she said firmly, untying her stitches to repair it. I refuse to be burned tonight.
You say you want normalcy, he said, ignoring her burning chants. NormalHer cheeks bloomed pink in the warm room. A Weasley, giving gifts to a Malfoy? You think this is normalcy? he attacked. She paused and slowly began to sink into his pool of words, watching herself mentally drown.
I'm returning a favor, she said, less than sure and a little more than hollow. It's only right for me to do this. Her hand trembled as she resumed knitting, forgetting about the beautiful necklace around her neck.
Don't be foolish; he doesn't expect anything from you. You're a poor Weasley - you have nothing to offer and nothing to give that he doesn't already have nor need. Though I'm sure this scarf will burn nicely in the Slytherin common room fire. An image of her scarf lying over a stack of flaming logs materialized in her head, a bored Draco watching it as it burned and smoked. She bit her lip as the ice began to grow, first in her stomach, moving towards her rapidly beating heart, like a deer right before it dies.
I don't care she tried as he began to laugh. She could almost feel him caressing her chin. Oh, but you do, Ginny, you do. You yourself know that he expects nothing of you, and yet, you insist on going through all the work to knit it for him. You're devoting yourself sadly to this undertaking, though why? Could it be…?
No, she said more firmly. Her feet uncrossed themselves and hit the floor firmly as she braced herself. Her jaw hurt from grounding against each other and her hands made painful fists in resistance.
Could it be that you secretly want to see him again, to give it to him? Is that it, Ginny? That you're happy he gave you such pricey gifts, that he took time to select them and spend time with you? You think that he likes you, that he wants to be with you? She bit her lip and the knitting needles fell to her stomach, abandoned. She shut her eyes against…
You're disgusting, Ginny. You want to think that he bought you those things because he likes you. You want to think that he's spending time with you because you enjoy spending time with him. You're knitting this sad, pathetic scarf because you hope he'll be happy that you made it for him, and you actually think he'll wear it. You want to think all this because you like him yourself.
… against everything. Tom's words fell like bricks against her body, crushing the air out of her lungs, bits and pieces falling down her throat and she choked and struggled to breathe. For all she was worth, she could not fight away the darkness that had encircled her, and now, there was no Malfoy to rescue her, to be her bright, shining knight.
Tears spilled out, painfully wedging themselves from her eyes and spilling onto her freckled cheeks. The beautiful necklace that made her so confident lay atop her heaving chest, forgotten and cold. She could see Tom's presence leave her like thick fog dissipate only to reveal the nighttime. She was crying not because she was hurt or broken or in anger or rage, but because he was completely and totally right.
So much for strength.

Strength, Ginny, she reminded herself, clenching her teeth before nervously taking a sip of pumpkin juice from her goblet. She could afford to lose her strength and resolve in front of Tom while she sat in the middle of her common room knitting. Each tear had become her secret, and she was fine with that. Now… now there would be no tears. There would be no breaking hearts, no trembling lips and darkness, and no Tom. She could not afford to lose her composure in front of Draco Malfoy. She winced when she saw her fingers tremble as they placed the goblet back on the table.
Right now, strength seemed like too much to ask.
I am a rock. The mantra sounded corny and foreign in her mind, but she pretended that she was one for propriety's sake - it wouldn't hurt to try anything, she nervously rationalized.

Her stomach clenched itself. She was done with her meal; in fact, it had never even truly begun. She had no appetite tonight, had nothing other than fear and wavering courage and cheesy positive thoughts that her mum and dad used to tell her after her brothers had picked on her. Now that it was her voice repeating them and not her parents', they failed to have the confident, reassuring ring she was sure they once held. This failed to make her feel any better. She had desperate hopes in the back of her mind which she mentally waved away with more realistic thoughts, and she tried to be prepared. She had a finished and folded winter scarf in her lap, an empty stomach and -
- She didn't have time to think about what she did and didn't have. Malfoy had risen from his spot, finished with his dinner, and began to leave the Great Hall through its massive southern door. Her objective, her mission, began to near closer and closer, and it began and ended here: with her first step towards him.
Don't be a chicken, she thought. Not here.

It would've been so easy to lose her nerve and stay seated, or grab a biscuit. It would've been easier for her to simply owl it to him, maybe even send it so that it timely arrived Christmas morning, and would have been just as acceptable for her to do that.
Acceptable, she reminded herself. Not proper. Not right. Presenting it to him and thanking him, face-to-face, was the proper and correct thing to do. That was the least she could do for him.
Her determination grew with the logic. She would do the right thing, she resolved, taking the scarf from her lap into her arms.
And so she stood up.

Ginny knew that Tom was correct. There was nothing she could do to disprove him without lying to him and to herself. And lying would accomplish nothing, other than to add to the list of names he could call her.
And so, to prevent the harassment and shame that would most likely ensue from his self-made revelation, she did the only thing that she could: she accepted it.
She didn't swallow those poisonous words and allow herself to die quietly. She wrestled with it through her tears as she brushed her teeth that night, through the next day when she saw him during breakfast and then again at dinner. But no matter how much she tried to justify, explain, and abolish her feelings, the bottom line remained: her feelings, however irrational, stayed.
And so, wearily, she collapsed into bed having given up her fight to somehow change them, warp them, or reword them. There was nothing more she could do, having exhausted her options and herself, her heart racing wildly like a rabid dog before its death. The only thing about this arrangement, she thought grimly as she drifted into sleep, was that she could now have the satisfaction of saying So what?

Truthfully, it wasn't like this was a completely irrational feeling, this attraction towards Malfoy. True, she and him did have a history, and it wasn't always pleasant - however, recently, he had been a perfect gentleman and an almost friend, and Ginny found him to be incredibly handsome. His white-blond hair emitted an aura of dignified grace, and he walked like a boy who was told all of his life that he was special, and that he had a purpose. Ginny envied that walk, his confident stride, and the way in which he carried himself. She was drawn to it, and it was attractive. So it therefore made sense, she thought, that she would find the owner of this confidence, this - this walk, attractive, and that she would eventually become romantically attracted to him.
Besides, he had been a real sweetheart when he had repaired her torn report. Try as she might, she had trouble forgetting that act of kindness, admitting to herself that she had no desire to forget that kind of treatment. It wasn't just the act that was so special, it was how he made her feel: like she was special, worth defending, worth repairing. And though they didn't always like each other, they didn't openly hate each other now. They were civil, almost friendly. His behavior towards her was giving her a sense of false hope, but she didn't really care anymore.
And what was the big deal if she liked him? Who cares, she wondered, chewing on this morning's toast. And more importantly, who knew? - apart from her and Tom, who almost didn't count anyway. No one knew, not her brother, or Harry, and definitely not Malfoy, and she planned to keep it that way.
Besides, of late, Malfoy had been rather pleasant company, and at times, rather handy to have around. It wasn't completely wrong of her to enjoy it and desire more of it, and maybe even admire and desire the companion; was it?

Oh, but why did it have to be him!

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone for being so patient as I took some months to turn this out! I hope it was to your liking and you're excited for the next chapter, as I am. D 2000 some words of D/G goodness, yeah?
Special thanks to reviewers DeaDTape, queenahems, Sunday-Morning (Remember When? Uhh… the inspiration for a happy ending isn't flowing on that story yet. My beta keeps bugging me for an update, but it's never there to be what I want it to be - yet. I hope I'll finish it someday… D please forgive me for my long hiatus.), kneh13, Eve Granger, Clarinet Girl Lyss (thanks for all the advice), Strangely Bitter, Arella Hallo, Slytherinbab05, danny10, princess cythera, march of flames (that's a good band, do you like them?), Mary, stroms-tornado, jojo, brokentoy19, Eragon Dragon Ridger, bigreader, kittybro, silvia, Jade Summers, and Cinnamon Angel, all who reviewed chapter 5.

Thanks for reading, please review!