THE PERFECT STORY
by yeminquon

A/N: I've gotten a handful of reviews from those who feel that chapters are too short. I'm sorry about that. I've written up to chapter six, but I'll do my best to make chapter seven longer. Sorry about the delayed update- I couldn't log on for some stupid reason Thursday and Friday. I just got home from California (I went to the Coachella Music Festival to see Depeche Mode- WHO ROCKED, BY THE WAY! I LOVE THEM!) and immediately made a beeline to my computer. I hope you enjoy it. Here's chapter three-

Disclaimer: I know, I know. No need to remind me.

CHAPTER THREE:ENVISIONED DARKNESS

The Malfoy Manor was different than Ginny had expected. She had anticipated dark, dreary halls with ancient paintings of dead bodies and infamous murderers. She had expected dust and grime and sadness. She had thought the halls would have age-old chandeliers with gauzy spider webs dangling from it. She had expected bones to litter shadowy corners and dead, still air.

What she had not expected was vibrant paintings of sunflowers and beautiful hills of Ireland. Or spacious oak floors only interrupted by stunning rugs that depicted murals of fruit bowls, forests, waterfalls, and animals. The air was bright and clean, all chandeliers sparkling. The windows were open to receive the crisp spring air of late March. It was a beautiful home, most unlike what Ginny had envisioned. She had been in such homes before; her father's colleagues, the Fairchilds, were very rich and when Ginny was small they had often spent summer afternoons there, picnicking on their spacious, manicured lawns. But, as fate has it, the Fairchilds and their families had been killed in the war three years ago. A lump formed in Ginny's throat. She didn't like thinking of the war.

It had been brutal and long. Hundreds died, evil and good alike. Ginny thought back to the last moment she'd seen Harry, within these very grounds, shouting that he'd come back as the sky rained down in buckets. He promised he'd return, and they would start a family.

Like she said earlier- she tried not to think about it.

Draco turned to face her. "You look startled," he said suddenly, as they passed a servant balancing a large tray with water bowls and linens. Ginny's breath caught. "I wasn't expecting it to be so... cheery." she replied thoughtlessly, staring at the papered walls. "I thought it would be more dark and...Uncheery."

Wasn't she a reporter? A journalist? A writer? Couldn't she have thought of a better word than uncheery? What was she- a first year?

"Oh, that..." Draco grinned. His smile lit up his whole face, and he looked even handsomer than before. Ginny had never seen his smile before. It was like a bolt of lightning across his face: magnificent, yet it lasted but two seconds, only to be replaced by a scowl. "Well, Mother enjoys her paintings, and ever since Father died..." his voice drifted off as they walked. Ginny understood. Her own father died in the war also.

"It's okay," she grimaced. "You don't have to-"

"-No," he interrupted quickly, as though he had to remind himself of it to remember it. "It's fine- better, actually. Mother doesn't like... dreariness. She doesn't like being frightened. She loves thinking she's perfectly safe and happy in her own little world. That nothing can harm her..." He sounded bitter, angry even. Ginny looked at her bare feet. For the first time in her life she felt sorry for Draco Malfoy, a Slytherin, a Death Eater, believed to replace the Voldemort who had been destroyed merely years ago. She had enjoyed a childhood with a large, happy family, always taking for granted the happiness it gave her to simply be loved for being herself. Draco had never known that love. Only hate and fear. No wonder he had turned out like he had. Anyone in such a broken, unhappy home would.

They reached an oak door at the end of a hallway. Draco pulled a large, old-fashioned key from the lock. A man in a flowing black cloak met them at the door. Draco nodded to him as he stuck the key in the lock and opened the doorway.

"This is Crabbe. Do not underestimate him." Draco bade her sternly as he allowed her entrance to the room. It was small and slightly cramped. The floors were tile and covered in grime. The single wardrobe at the east wall loomed up at her, its once glorious wooden surface now aged and water stained. A bed sat in the corner, the grey, coarse sheets made quickly and without care. Beside it was a small bed table, with a large, wooden bowl. A wooden pitcher stood beside it, and stained linen was thrown haphazardly behind the bowl. There were no wall-coverings or pictures, rather, faded wallpaper that was peeling, revealing wood older than Hogwarts. It was a very sad, grey room. A single window sat in the wall across from her. It was very small but allowed the picture of the lawns from outside to be seen. All in all, Ginny didn't feel too out of place, what with her ragged appearance.

"Crabbe will be right outside. This room has been charmed in every way possible. Do not do anything stupid." Draco told her sternly as Ginny sat on the bed.

"What will I do?" she asked forlornly, studying the decaying walls.

"Sit here," Draco suggested. "Think."

"For how long?"

"Till you die or I release you," he answered dully, turning to leave the room.

"Can't I have a desk to write on or something?" Ginny inquired.

"I'll see-" he caught himself. "No. You are to do as I say. No more questions! Not one! Bloody hell, woman! Good night!"

"But it is only morning-" Ginny began.

"I said good night!" Draco stomped angrily out of the room, shutting and locking the door behind him. She could hear Crabbe chuckling beyond the door. Groaning, she laid on her lumpy bed.

Till you die or I release you... The prospects sounded optimistic. Ginny would probably die of boredom.

YQ