Hi everyone. Well, still not too many reviewers, but thank you to the ones that did! You're fabulous. Sorry I haven't been updating too regularly, I've been out of the country a few times, started my last year of uni, and am working two jobs instead of just one like I did last year. Hectic, hectic times. Anyhow, I hope you all have enjoyed the story thus far. This chapter is when everything starts getting really interesting for our dear little Draco. This chapter SHOULD be longer than the other ones, so I hope that makes up for my lack of posts. Please, please, please review and tell all your little and friends to read my story. I need all the feedback I can get, as I will start editing the ff after I'm done. Ok, here we go!
SEPARATING
Chapter 20: Alive
Originally Draco had intended to go straight back to his dorm room, needing to unpack but more so wanting to stay isolated for as long as possible. But he was increasingly disgusted with himself the closer he got to the Slytherin House. What was he doing? Hiding? From who? Weasle, Scar Face and Weasle's mutt? If any of them were smart, THEY would be the one's hiding from HIM. He was not above messing up Potter's face again, and showing the Mudblood and the Weasle a thing or two wouldn't be a challenge as long as he wasn't forced to actually touch them.
Draco shoved his shrunken trunk into his pocket and made a sharp right towards the illuminated Great Hall filled with the sound of student's voices and the clinking of silverware and goblets. Tugging on his tie to make it hang loosely around his neck, Draco stepped calmly into the room. Immediately his eyes drifted over to the infamous three huddled together and whispering—nothing out of the ordinary. Potter looked fully recovered from Draco's assault, which was unfortunate in Draco's mind. He much more preferred seeing Harry bloodied, gasping and clutching his side on the floor.
Suddenly the Mudblood stopped talking, and soon she, Potter, and Weasle were all glaring at him and his blatant audacity. Draco smirked at them and waved patronizingly, making sure to bend each finger individually. Challengingly, Ron rose from the bench and Draco found himself hoping Ron would dare to lunge—then Draco would show him, just like he had shown the youngest Weasley. But almost immediately, Harry's arms reached up to calm his friend.
Draco couldn't resist the opportunity, "Don't use me to get Potter's arms around you Weasle. It's revolting to be your excuse." Gales of laughter filled the air from the Slytherin table and to Draco's delight, Weasle sunk miserably onto the bench. With an added spring in his step, he headed over to his proper position with the rest of the Slytherin, all still snickering and pointing at the dejected Weasley.
"It certainly didn't take you long to get back into the swing of things," Pansy grinned as Draco slid into the spot next to her.
"Mince, again?" Draco said with a frown, observing the assorted pies as if Pansy hadn't even spoken. "Someone should speak to the kitchen help, get the menu moved up a notch. Would a little variety be too much to ask?"
"What are you in such a good mood about?" Pansy persisted, angling herself on the bench to face Draco and effectively raising her skirt higher to Draco's approval.
"I just publicly humiliated Weasle and his scar-faced lover. Why shouldn't I be in a good mood?" Draco asked as if Pansy were clearly missing the point, and resignedly shoveling an assortment of the minced-based food onto his plate.
"Well, I thought perhaps you would want to lay low a while, what with HER disappearance and what everyone is saying about it, not to mention your suspension," she answered, significantly lowering her voice and leaning closer to keep out possible listeners. "Dumbledore has made several speeches while you were away and I just..."
"Oh yes," Draco interrupted unconcernedly, "I got interrogated by the old git earlier."
"You did? W-what did he say? What did YOU say? Merlin, Draco, you don't need any more attention drawn to yourself," Pansy began all at once, looking thoroughly panicked.
"Stop worrying, will you," he said dismissively, not wanting to be bothered by the subject any further and sliding his hand under the table to grip Pansy's upper thigh to make the point. It seemed to induce the intended affect, and Pansy lay silent. This would work out nicely, Draco dreamed. He'd enjoy every meal for the rest of the semester in peace because of a simple caress—the power of a Malfoy's hand. It was a win-win situation, really.
Draco managed to choke down dinner—he had grown accustomed to fine dining during his two-week home-stay—by keeping himself occupied with the various curves of Pansy's leg, and hardly noticed the glances thrown his way by some of the other houses.
"I'm going back to my dorm," he said, finally removing his hand from its position on Pansy's lap, causing her to break out of the quasi-trance.
"Oh," Pansy said, not even attempting to hide her irritation that playtime was over. "Shall I come by later, then?"
Draco tried to shrug in a non-committal way and got to his feet. He didn't want her thinking that just because he enjoyed himself last time he was ready to have an actual relationship. "I'll let you know when I'm done unpacking." Pansy was not overly pleased with his answer, but didn't object. With a nod to a few of the other Slytherins, Draco exited the Great Hall.
It had all gone extremely well. No one had even been discussing Ginny's death, except for the overly concerned Pansy, as far as he could tell. Just like every other piece of gossip, her murder had already blown over. Even Weasley's brother didn't seem put out by the whole affair, which seemed a bit strange now that Draco thought about it. Perhaps Weasle just wasn't terribly emotional. No, that couldn't be it, especially when considering his face grew as red as his hair every time the Mudblood spoke to him. Disgusting. Maybe the Weasle and baby Weaslette didn't have a very good relationship. Draco was no expert on the subject, really, as he was an only child, but it SEEMED they got on. Weasle WAS rather protective and all...the git.
The more Draco continued assessing the situation, the more odd he found it. Ginny had been fairly popular, Draco had thought, but none of her friends looked like they were in mourning. When Pansy got back from dinner, Draco would ask about...
He had been so deep in thought that while ascending the flight of to the dungeons, he had, without noticing, knocked into somebody. "Watch it," he spat before looking up at the figure.
"Me?! You're the one not looking where you're going," the tenacious voice said, making Draco freeze. "What? What are you looking at?"
It could not be her. It was impossible. This was just another one of his dreams, another musing. If he was quiet, it would go away.
"Hello? Earth to Draco?" she said, waving a hand in front of Draco's face before crossing her arms agitatedly over her chest.
"G-Ginny...?" Draco managed to choke out, feeling his jaw hang open but not having enough mental faculty to actually close it.
"Yes, of course it's me... unless you actually assumed I'd shrivel up and die just because you said what we did was a mistake," she said with an icy tone rivaling the glaciers Draco had seen in books. "Well you know what, Draco Malfoy? I whole heartedly agree, it WAS a mistake, so don't worry your pretty little head about it!"
Draco stared at her longer. Any minute now, the raving Ginny would disappear and Draco would wake up in his four-poster. But he didn't remember going to sleep.
"For Merlin's sake Draco, stop gaping at me! If it's possible, you're paler than usual," Ginny said. To his relief, Draco finally managed to close his mouth and blink one or two times.
"I thought...I mean, I didn't....that is, I wasn't expecting you," he said with much effort, struggling with his lead weight body threatening to bring him to the ground.
"Well, I wasn't planning to literally run into you either. It's not like I scheduled this, Malfoy. I didn't even know you were back," she added, looking over her shoulder towards the Great Hall as if she might just make a run for it.
He had killed her! He had! She had been there in her nightgown, her brilliant red hair contrasting with the blackness of the winter's sky, sobbing on the frozen ground, pleading and saying his name. He had called out the curse, the spell had leapt from his wand, Draco had hit her square in the chest, and her body had lain so still afterwards. Ginny's tears had still been wet on her freckle dusted cheeks when Draco received the Mark.
"Draco, what is the..." she began to say, but Draco tuned her out. He had to make sure she was real, that she wasn't just going to disappear as she always did in his dreams. Stepping awkwardly forward, he reached out a hand effectively silencing Ginny. The palm of his hand touched her smooth cheek. He was touching the girl he had killed. His hand moved to her hair, his fingers combing through the soft, full curls of the girl he had killed. He stepped forward again and she did not move. Somehow he was kissing the girl he had killed, and she did not disappear.
His body naturally pressed against hers until Ginny's backside was up against the staircase. Her hands were on the nape of Draco's neck, grasping at it and fisting in his hair bringing their mouths impossibly closer. In one fluid motion, Draco's arms were around her, one hand caressing the perfect "V" of Ginny's lower back and the other resting on her butt over her tantalizingly fitted jeans.
There was no protest from Ginny as Draco's tongue slipped inside her mouth, desperate to savor her taste. Draco had accepted the fact he'd never be with Ginny again, it hadn't seemed terribly difficult at the time. But now, he found himself wanting to be close to her, almost needing it.
They were both breathing through their noses, neither of them willing to break off the kiss to fill their lungs, and somehow one of Draco's legs slipped between Ginny's. Their bodies fit together in a maddeningly perfect way. And then he was being pushed away and the connection was broken.
"We can't, we have to stop," he heard a breathy Ginny say, Draco's eyes taking a moment to refocus after being so tightly shut. "You said it was a mistake...it WAS a mistake. You went a way and sent an owl saying it was a mistake, and Hermione and I agreed. I promised her I wouldn't...and now, Merlin Draco, you can't just change your mind like that."
How did the Weaslette manage to look so damn hot, Draco wondered, while raving like a lunatic? He silently cursed her mussed hair and swollen lips.
"Wait, wait, wait," Draco suddenly said, holding up his hand to silence her. "The Mudblood? You told the Mudblood we shagged?" This had to be some kind of joke. He could see it all now, Granger and Ginny squealing as they sat on pink afghan discussing every tiny detail. Ginny had no doubt talked about his "performance." Granger had probably been fantasizing about it ever since. Hell, she'd have to with the sorry excuse of a boyfriend she had groping at her. Draco's nose wrinkled in disgust.
"Thank you for referring to our sleeping together so sentimentally, Draco," Ginny said, rolling her eyes and placing her hands on her hips rigidly.
Ginny had probably gone so far as to write all about her entrance into womanhood in a diary she kept hidden under her pillow, Draco thought. Women were needlessly sentimental about these types of things. "Try and keep your foolish, girly-fantasies to a bare minimum, Weaslette, if possible," Draco replied, dismissively waving a hand at her and refusing to think about her little diary any longer. "The point is, I don't particularly like the fact that the Mistress of Mud knows about my sex-life."
"Look, she's my best friend, Malfoy. She was actually trying to be there for me, something you would know nothing about. A lasting relationship to you means actually knowing the girl's name before AND after you sleep with her, so I don't expect you to understand.
"Ooh, harsh one, but you're wrong, baby Weasle. I always know the names of the girls I sleep with." He paused before adding, "well, their first names at least." Draco couldn't help but smirk, it was too easy working Ginny up. And he had to admit, he enjoyed watching as her eyes lit up like flaming amber, as the crease on her forehead deepened as she glared, the way her slender fingers curled in frustration, and especially how hard she tried to hide it all. Yes, Draco enjoyed agitating her.
"Merlin, I'd like to wipe that smug smirk off your face right now, Malfoy," Ginny said, lowering her gaze to the floor.
"Why don't you?" Her head shot up at his challenge.
"That's how it happened the first time, remember? Outside your common room. I have no intention of starting it again." Ginny moved to brush past him, but Draco was not about to let her go, or else how would this be any different than his dreams? He grabbed her arm, making her turn. Ginny glanced down questioningly at his hand and for a moment, Draco thought, no, he hoped she would slap him.
"You promised Mudblood...what did you promise her?" he asked slowly, not taking his gaze off her full lips that so desperately needed to be on his.
"That I-I wouldn't: one, be alone with you again, two, look for you again, three, let you near me, four, go to your common room, and...five, that I wouldn't sleep with you again..." Ginny recited, as if she had repeated it over and over to herself until memorized.
"Quite a list you and Mudblood came up with," Draco replied thoughtfully lessening his grip slightly on her arm, which Ginny seemed to notice but did nothing about. "You've already broken three of those. What would the Mudblood say?" He feigned a gasp and added a look of concern because he could.
"Three? Like I said, Draco, I didn't come looking for you. And she has a name you know, Hermione Granger," Ginny persisted.
"Of course you did, Weasley," he replied, choosing to ignore the Granger comment—"Mudblood" worked well enough for him. Why did she insist on lying to herself? The facts could not be more visible. "You just happened to wander down to the dungeons the day I came back, which the entire school knew about, no doubt. Or perhaps you were visiting dear Professor Snape—a Gryffindork's favorite professor," he said, his tone challenging her to deny it. He continued after a brief pause, "Do you know what I think, Weasley? I think you knew I'd be coming back any time today and found your way down here, just like that night, hoping you'd run into me. You're just DYING to break numbers four and five, aren't you? Haven't been able to stop thinking about it, have you? 'S been eating you up inside over the last two weeks, hasn't it?" Draco hissed through clenched teeth, pulling her closer to him again.
Ginny wrenched her arm away and took several steps backwards, laughing slightly. "Don't flatter yourself, Malfoy. I don't want anything to do with you, I assure you."
Draco's face lost its intensity and he shrugged. He was not about to stand here all night bickering over whether or not she sought him out—Draco already knew she had. "Continue disillusioning yourself if you wish, Ginny," he said, turning his back on her and ascending the stairs again, yawning widely enough for her to see. "But a Malfoy won't beg for what he can get from any girl."
He continued in a nonchalant gait, hands inside his trouser pockets, until rounding the last corner to the Slytherin House, before sprinting to the entrance. What was she doing still alive? He had to find out now. And Draco would bet a million galleons his father knew the answer.