Ok, so this is probably going to be it for a while. I swear to try to update both this story, and IHD, but it's my senior year, people- the home stretch, because my schedule got totally messed up by my councilor last year, I have to take a really heavy load this year, as well as cheerleading, and hopefully a job ( I need one, but they seem to be few and far between here if you weren't born here, and happen to know the owners/supervisors). This is for Lania3- you're a great writer! Your latest chapter was awesome!
Hope you enjoy!
Chapter 2: Moonlight Memories
That night, Ginny lay awake, thinking, until long after her roommates were sleeping deeply. Her mind spun with memories of afternoons spent dancing in sunbeams, and nights singing to the stars. And of the little blonde boy who had shared it all with her, until the day he had simply not come.
Quietly, Ginny got out of her bed and went to her trunk at its foot. Placing her hand on the left side, she whispered "fosgail." Open. Part of the wood disappeared, revealing a hallow; inside lay her treasures.
Pulling out a small, beautifully carved box, she took a moment to trace the swan on its lid before opening it. Lifting the compartmented tray that contained a few trinkets, she pulled out one of the things she treasured most: a piece of paper that lay beneath the tray. It had been there, hidden and safe, for years. Putting the box back together and away, she whispered "dùin"-shut- and once again her trunk was whole.
She did not unfold the paper until she reached the window seat; only once she was in the pool of moonlight that streamed through the window did she carefully open it.
On the paper was a picture, obviously drawn by a child, but one with clear talent. It showed a lake, surrounded by a forest; on the water, a girl danced, shedding feathers as she spun. By the shore, a swan glided. It was just a black and white sketch, but the figures seemed almost to move, as did the shadows.
I wonder if he still draws? Ginny thought as she gazed up at the moon and listened to the music that floated on the wind…
In his room in the dungeons, Draco sat on the wide sill of the window above his bed, watching the ground of the school as it lay bathed in moonlight. The window was at ground level- Draco had the highest room in the Slytherin house- so he couldn't see much of the sky, but he could see some of the grounds and the forest.
Every night, since he had arrived at Hogwarts, he had sat in this window, his ears straining to hear the music he knew the wind carried, his eyes straining to see the creatures that would dance in the moonbeams, his heart yearning for what had been.
More often than not, Draco would fall asleep in his window, his watching and listening and yearning blending with his dreams. The faint shapes he only half imagined that danced among the flowers becoming a single figure gowned in white, swan feathers tangled in her flaming hair. Every night, and every time he saw her in the halls, his heart would ache with remorse and yearning to return to what had been. For one cannot dance with the Faeries and not long to dance again.
But as a Malfoy, Draco was expected to be his father's son. His contact with the Fey was to be limited to those of the Dark Sidhe- dancing, especially with the Fey of the Light, was forbidden to Draco. His father had been furious, the day he had learned where his young son ran off to every day; he hadn't even ever found out about the nights that Draco had snuck out. Lucius had forbade his son to ever go to the Fay again, and the little boy had found himself followed everywhere by house elves after that day.
Draco wondered for the thousandth time what his father would have done, had he known that his son's companion during his time with the Faeries had been the youngest Weasely. Draco still remembered his own shock, that day in Florish and Blotts, when his Eala- his swan- had taken Potter's defense, and Draco's fondest dream had come crashing down. Before that moment, he'd always had hope that he would meet his friend again, the only true friend he'd ever had.
He closed his eyes, trying to block out the next memories, and pressed his forehead against the coolness of the pane of glass. But the memories came anyway. In his mind he watched once more as his father slipped the diary into her cauldron- and he, angry and jealous that the great Potter had taken yet another thing from him, had pretended not to notice. He had known, in his heart, that the diary would cause Ginny pain. When he'd connected the dots at last, learned exactly what he had sentenced her to that day, when he hadn't warned her, and on all the other days he'd had chances to, he'd been horrified. His only friend, and he'd done nothing as she's nearly died. He'd had so many chances to save her, and he had used them to say mean thing, and then laughed as she ran off with tears in her eyes. And told the part of him that said to run after her, hug her, and say he hadn't meant it, to shut up.
Potter had saved her, in the end. 'And you didn't even try," said a voice in his head. Once, he had argued with the voice, tried to defend his actions-'or lack thereof,' said the voice snidely- but his arguments had sounded lame and half-hearted even in his mind.
He fell asleep, and dreamed of dancing beneath the stars, the silvery light of the moon washing the color out of everything but the hair of the girl twirling in his arms…
Ginny blinked slowly awake in the light of dawn; she had fallen asleep in the window. She tried to snatch back her dream, and the feeling of peace it had contained. She'd been dancing under the night sky, held by a by who had seemed to almost be one with the pale light that shone down on them.
It wasn't until she reached the dining hall that she recognized the silver boy in her dream. His eyes, silver as the light of the stars, looked up from his breakfast and met hers as she walked through the doorway.
You may have noticed that things seem to have taken a bit of a different turn- they have! If you read my bio, you know it's all the Faeries fault- they demanded to be added to this story. The language used here is Gaelic. There will be much more of that sort of thing to come- assuming I 1) ever find the time to write again this year, and 2)live through the year!
Thanks to the following!
Helldarkangel1- glad you liked my Ginny. I totally agree about girls- we should never be wimpy! - hope you'll like the new, mystical Ginny as well.
Kyree24- glad you liked the last chapter more than the first! Thanks a lot- compliments mean a lot from a writer like you. Check out my bio- I wrote a little thing about you.
Alexandria J. Malfoy- I'm so glad everyone agrees with me about Ginny. She just wasn't made to curl up in a corner and wait to be saved by Harry.
Amelie- wow, a fan. 0.o who knew. I plan to keep the rating on this one down, as it's meant to be a fairytale (even before the Faeries took over). I'm pleased that your looking forward to it- hope you liked his chapter.
Mar sin leibh an dràsda! (Ta ta for now!)