Chapter 8: After Thoughts
The soft snoring told Draco it was safe to enter-- once his roommates began this nightly ritual there was no risk of them waking. They knew when Draco was gone after midnight it meant he was consumed with the beauties of Hogwarts, and if Crabbe and Goyle were still awake when he returned, they usually wanted details. Almost always he would oblidge, but not this time. This time was different, no matter how hard he wished it wasn't.
He silently crept across the room, not wanting to risk stirring the gang of boys snoring away, cautiously skirting around the furniture corners and stepping over clothes that had been carelessly thrown aside. Kicking off his shoes, Draco slipped into his bed, not even bothering to undress—an oddity in itself. Draco didn't like the hinderance of clothes while curled up in his silk sheets. They stuck to his skin and didn't allow him to feel the soft fabric around him.
The air around him was chilly, having seeped in from the winter world outside through the cracks of the ancient windowpanes, but Draco did not feel it. Normally he would have instantly bundled up in his extra down comforter, creating a warm haven, yet still it remained folded at the foot of his bed. A warmth had been pulsating inside him, corsing through his veins since he had first tasted Ginny Weasley's intoxicatingly innocent lips.
The events began to roll through his mind again, playing like a dramatic muggle movie as he lay on his back, staring up at the stone ceiling where a spider was weaving its intricate web. After Ginny got over the initial shock of the silver-haired boy yelling at her with accusations and then kissing her, she did something Draco did not expect. She kissed him back. Certainly that was how it played out in his dreams, but this was reality.
Draco didn't know how long he and Ginny kissed in the empty classroom. It seemed like an eternity and yet, not quite long enough. And what was more shocking, Draco was the first to pull away, breathing heavily as if her kisses winded him. His silver eyes gazed at the girl with her eyes still closed, cheeks flushed, and her lips still frozen from the kiss. He was certain the moment she regained her grasp on the conscious, she would regret kissing him back. Perhaps she'd even flee from the room. But as her doe eyes fluttered open, and her facial muscles relaxed, Ginny did not move.
They stared at each other, the two enemies of Hogwarts, both wondering if a grevous mistake had been made. Even the air around them seemed to hold its breath, waiting for one of them to pass judgement. Draco wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be ok, that he'd leave her alone—anything she wanted to hear, really. But the words would not formulate, his mind was a mess of jumbled, racing thoughts, and before he could even try, Ginny stepped past him and exited the room.
He didn't try to go after her. Draco didn't know what he would have said if he had caught up with her. Rolling onto his side, Draco knew he would not be getting any sleep that night. There was nothing he could do about what happened, and he felt horrible. He had thought Ginny kissing him back would have satisfied his obsession. But Draco felt worse then ever, though he didn't think it was possible. For now he was left with his musings of what the next weeks would entail.
As the days went by Draco was learning that dreams were in fact better than reality. To any normal person, that would have been obvious—to them dreams were hardly attainable. On the other hand Draco had grown up believing that dreams were mere manifestations of events to come, events he knew would come with the right kind of power. The kind of power his last name guarenteed. But all of that was changing.
The night when Draco and Ginny's lips met, he had been fairly reassured of her mutual desire as she kissed him back. Yet now he was not as confident. Scenarios played through his head of what could have happened if he followed her, and Draco found himself more and more engrossed with picking each of the "could have beens" a part. She might have waited for him, maybe even welcomed his chase. Then again, Ginny might have been furious once she realized what had transpired. Maybe she had been caught off guard and only kissed him back because she was stunned. Maybe she would have been angry… Draco rubbed his cheek subconciously.
"Mr. Malfoy, watch how you cut your gillyweed tentacles. I said two cms, not four!" A familiar deep voice snapped, though trying not to be too loud. But it didn't work. Snape's angered whisper had echoed through the Potion's dungeon and now all of the Gryffindors were snickering loudly, some pointing.
"That's enough!" Snape shouted, whipping around to face the class, his face more blanched then usual. The class immediately went silent and most of the students went back to their cauldrons, all except Potter. Draco could feel his nosey, smug eyes piercing him, but he refused to look up. He would not give the Scar King any satisfaction.
Draco began roughly cutting the wriggling plant, thinking about Potter's gloating stare as he stabbed and slice at it.
"Harry, pay attention," Draco heard the mudblood whisper to her friend as Snape began swiftly walking towards them with a furious glint in his eye. The frazzle haired mutant was quick. She knew Snape would be watching for the next person to step out of line to lay into for Draco's careless mistake. He snorted. And everyone thought Potter was so smart. Atfer 7 years he still hadn't figured out how to keep out of trouble.
"Mr. Potter! How many times do I have to tell you your cauldron is that way," Snape raged, pointing sharply at the bubbling pot. "You Gryffindors will never learn! 20 points from Gryffindor for your complete disregard of the rules," he added, scribbling on his scroll the point deduction.
"But Professor Snape, Malfoy wasn't paying attention either and you didn't mark him…" The nosey mudblood began.
"That'll be another 20 points from Gryffindor. When you become a teacher Ms. Granger, which is a highly unlikely possibility, you can make the decisions. But as for now, this is my house, my rules, my game," Professor Snape yelled, putting his fists on Granger's desk and leaning to leer at her.
Draco smirked, he had been wrong about two things: the Mudblood wasn't as smart as everyone thought she was, and class wouldn't been so bad afterall.