She sat with her mind wandering for what seemed like ages. She thought of her brother, Harry and Hermione and wondered if they were alright and if they had made any progress. She wondered about how her family was taking their abrupt departure. She wondered why no one had seen anything from Voldemort since the attack on Draco's parents. And she thought about Draco. If she thought that she was miserable, it was probably nothing compared to him. He lost his parents forever and his friends left him also. Ginny sighed and leaned further back into the tree. It was then that she noticed that she wasn't alone.
Under the next tree, Ginny saw Draco reclined with his eyes closed. He looks so relaxed, she thought. I've never seen him like this. He always seems so wound up about something. If she thought really hard, though, she would realize that she had not seen that Draco since the year before. This year he looked defeated and his body was not held with a superior air, but indifferently. She had certainly never seen him looking so… peaceful.
Should I go talk to him? It was strange that she was trying to convince herself of reasons to talk to him instead of avoid him. I want to thank him again for earlier. I want to… but her thoughts faded away and she just continued to watch him, her head leaning against the tree trunk and long, fiery hair blowing in the breeze.
He's so handsome when he isn't being a jerk or holding his nose in the air. He has quite a nice nose. And his hair. I wonder what it feels like. The breeze was stirring up his usually immaculate hair, giving him a pleasantly mussed look. She was so intent on watching the lazy movement of his hair that she hadn't notice that his eyes had opened, and he was gazing back at her.
At first Draco was startled to find that he was being watched. He felt vulnerable reclining out by the lake. He had been in a strange sort of mood all afternoon after his encounter with Ginny. And it was not a bad feeling. Then he realized that he did not mind her gaze. There was a day when he would have made a snide comment about her parentage, but there was no need for that anymore. He had no one, so how could he find fault in people who did. He counted her lucky. Instead he watched the small smile creeping onto her face and the softness in her eyes. She really was quite striking, and he wondered how he had never noticed it until this year. He was pulled out of his reverie as he saw her cheeks redden and he looked to see her eyes glued to his. She gave an embarrassed sort of half smile before turning back toward the lake.
How humiliating! I wonder how long he saw me staring at him. It is not enough that he found me sitting in the storm, but now I am staring at him. It's not as if he never stares at me, though, she thought resolutely, and she turned to look back at him as if daring him to mock her. But he had gone. She was surprised to find that she was disappointed.
"Do you mind if I share your tree? It has got a better view than mine."
Ginny looked up abruptly and saw the grey eyes that she had sought out. She smiled a little. How many times is that? He must think I am some sort of grinning fool- but her thoughts were cut off as he smiled back. He really does have a nice smile. He should do that more often.
"Sure, I don't mind." Ginny moved over a bit to give him some of the dry ground at the base of the tree. He sat down and leaned into the tree knowing that all the while her eyes were glued to him, and the corners of his lips turned up slightly as he closed his eyes and tilted his head back into the tree trunk.
Ginny watched him out the corner of her eye for a few minutes more, before relaxing into the tree herself, feeling very much at ease.
The minutes passed in amiable silence, and they both felt a calm ease creep up on them. It was not until the sun had almost disappeared under the horizon completely that Ginny heard Draco stir beside him. She looked at him to find him looking intently at her.
Ginny smiled, stood, and held out her hand. "We should get inside before it gets dark. Plus no doubt the others will have eaten all of the food." Draco paused a moment looking at her hand before taking in and standing. He held it a moment longer than entirely necessary, suddenly overcome with an unknown emotion, and grateful that they were not slinging insults.
"For such small people, those Creevey boys sure can eat a lot. They are like garbage disposals, honestly. No idea where it all goes…" he trailed off looking at Ginny with the sunset transforming her hair into a glowing halo for her smiling face.
"Right." And Ginny and Draco walked together in silence to the Great Hall to claim what was left of the food for their dinner.
To say that the students in the Great Hall were surprised to see Draco and Ginny walk in late side by side would be an understatement. Conversations stopped and most everyone stared as the two unsocial students in their midst walked in. together- and trying hard to disguise their smiling.
Professor McGonagall and Professor Sprout shared a knowing look before looking back at the two students who seemed unaware of the attention that they were receiving.
They sat side by side in two empty chairs at the corner of the table and began piling food onto their plates, never speaking. Gradually eyes moved away from the strange pair and conversations picked back up, but the two seemed blissfully unaware that they were not alone in the room. They did not speak to each other or look at each other, but acknowledged the presence of the other in a sort of unspoken communication as they had that morning in Potions.
Ginny ate with more enthusiasm than she had since school started. Everything had tasted so bland and she had no real desire to eat except that she needed to if she wanted to live to the end of the week. Tonight, though, things were different. The eating arrangements had always made her uneasy because everyone faced each other at meals and she had wanted to disappear. She did not mind tonight. She was very comfortable.
As she finished, she noticed that Draco had stopped eating also. When she stood, so did he, and they walked, unspeaking, out of the Great Hall. At the door, they parted, each turning toward their respective dormitories.
"Ginny!" she turned to see that Draco had stopped and turned to face her, "Goodnight." He said simply, inclining his slightly before turning away and continuing to the dungeons.
Ginny stood a moment watching him leave before smiling, shaking her head, and continuing to the Gryffindor tower.
He called me Ginny. Not Weaslette or some other name. Ginny. She had never been fond of her name, especially her full name- Ginevra- but somehow when he said it in his drawl it sounded positively divine.
For the second time that day, Ginny found that she didn't mind Draco's companionship, though she rejected it from anyone else. He did not come to her with questions or problems. Or words at all, for that matter. She had spent an afternoon reclining with him under a tree and only spoken at the beginning and end to acknowledge the other, and nothing more.
It was a comfortable silence, she decided. Not lonely and not awkward. It was nice just to have someone sit there who was not trying to get anything from me that I was not getting from him. Just his presence was calming. And this in itself was strange, because his presence had never been calming. His presence usually meant to have your wand at hand and always watch your back. Yet she had dozed under the tree with him all afternoon.
Ginny was not sure what happened that afternoon with Draco, nor over the next few days when they arrived under the tree after class each afternoon. They greeted each other then lost themselves in their individual thoughts. Each evening as the sun set, they would walk to the Great Hall, have dinner, and wish each other a good night. There was no depth of conversation or imitate talk, but there was something personal about their meetings that left them feeling full and happy and not at all cold and alone.
Draco had shared Ginny's thoughts about the deserted castle and echoing halls, but he stopped noticing the silence and empty beds. Ginny stopped feeling as if she was alone in a castle full of people. The others stopped mattering, and she felt something stirring in her as if some fire was struggling to reignite.
She had a found an unlikely friend and made an unusual friendship that was not hinged on conversation but understanding and the other's presence.