Sunsets

When the other girls found her, there was a massive fuss about what exactly they should do. For once they seemed sympathetic, using handkerchiefs to wipe away the liquid from her trembling fingers, speaking quietly about what should be done. Should they take her to the Infirmary? Or make her shower, first? Eventually, one of them came up with the idea of calling Helen, who seemed to make an even bigger fuss. Ginny wasn't quite sure how, but eventually she found herself in the Hospital Wing, with Helen squeezing her sticky, sweat-dampened hands and the other girls sitting concernedly around her. She could make out Hermione, Parvati and Lavender, their faces the picture of worry.

Vaguely, she was aware of Madame Pomfrey sniffing her stiffening shirt, almost dry from her spill of the Potion. She recalled trying to swap away the portly woman's hands as her eyelids were pulled back, stared into, and then released, and she remembered swallowing a terrifyingly bitter liquid, urged into her mouth by a combination of Hermione and Helen.

After that the girls were asked to leave, and Ginny's clothing stripped off of her and sent down the washing chute. Madame Pomfrey left her in a pair of her own pajamas, to curl up on the bed and relieve the throbbing drowsiness that had now arisen in her head.

When she woke up, it was bright outside, the window near her bed letting warm sunlight fall across her face and sheets. She could hear the school awake only hallways away, staircases down--she could hear the moving of the world as it, too, woke up. Ginny stretched, her heart still heavy, opened her eyes, then closed them again. She didn't want to face anything right now. She just wanted to lie here in her pain and never leave. Everything seemed to come crashing down on her, everything seemed to have fallen inwards, pushing her, squeezing her, until finally she found herself broken. Nothing, she could do nothing. She felt tears begin to slip out of her eyes, tearing down the sides of her face and pooling onto the pillow.

She couldn't even save Draco. She couldn't have saved him if she'd tried. He'd been through so much, so much pain--she didn't even know what to do. She wanted to die for him, she wanted to take all of his pain and bestow it upon herself. She wanted to save him so badly; she never wanted to let anything like that happen to him again.

She couldn't believe it. A sob escaped her throat. He didn't want to be with her because...he didn't want her to get involved in the horror of his life? Why? Why? She wanted him to share it with her, she wanted to be able to help him through it, through the hard times, through the good times...through everything! She wanted to be his rock--even more so, she wanted to be the one who could take his pain away, who could make him smile and laugh.

She wanted to be his everything, because he was her everything.

Her breathing became harsh, every breath laborous as she thought of what torture he had been forced to endure. So much beating, so much humiliation--it was a wonder he could still appear so strong. She wanted to show him pleasures and wonders, and happiness and love. She wanted to give him everything his father had taken away, she wanted to give him everything.

"Miss Weasley!" it was Madame Pomfrey, who bustled quickly to Ginny's side, propping her head up and slipping the same bitter tasting potion down her throat that she had last night. "Miss Weasley, you have to rest."

Ginny looked confusedly up at her, already feeling a type of content tiredness wash over her. Her eyes were heavy and..."Whyyy?" she slurred, everything about her seeming dogged, everything about her wanting sleep, "I'mmm fiinnnne."

Madame Pomfrey wiped away the tears that were still falling from her eyes. "Just sleep, dear. You'll be fine by tomorrow."

Ginny frowned, but had no time to question further. Instead she found herself falling back to sleep, slipping, slipping away from consciousness...

Draco knew Ginny was missing the moment he didn't see her that morning on the way to his first class. There was no glimpse of red hair that made him duck into the familiar corridor, no lingering scent that made his heart race and cheeks hope to flush. He frowned, concerned. Maybe she was late. He thought no more of it.

By the third class, he was swearing, cursing, and swearing some more that she had just slept in. But everything about him seemed to itch, every nerve seemed to be on end. He saw her friends in a corner, heard her name being uttered...He stared at them for a long time, a battle taking place inside his stomach. Where was she, where was she...?

He decided he had to know. He didn't care if she actually had just slept in, didn't care if he was worrying for nothing--but if something was genuinely wrong...

No, no, he shouldn't. He should forget about her. What if her friends told her he'd been asking about her? Then what would she think? No, no, he definitely shouldn't. It would only make it harder for both of them to move on...'Like I'll ever move on,' he figured bitterly, turning to walk away, the prospect of another class to sit through, not knowing where she was seeming strangely daunting.

A tap on his shoulder alerted him to some one else's presence, and he twirled around faster than lightning, immediately on guard. It was that girl Weasley sat with during dinner and walked with in the hallways...Helen? That was it: Helen Baxter.

"I'm not stupid, you know Malfoy," she said, her voice strangely void of emotion, yet unnervingly powerful. Draco was temporarily shocked--had he done anything to imply that...? He decided to keep quiet, looking away, highly perturbed. The girl had one piercing brown stare, as though she were staring right into you even if you weren't staring right back at her. There was a moment of silence, where Draco bristled in her grip, uncomfortable, and then, "She's in the Infirmary."

Draco's eyes snapped into a locked stare with Helen's. She's in the Infirmary. The hell...

All Draco knew was that one second he'd been staring into the smugly knowing eyes of Ginny's Weasley's queer friend Helen Baxter, and that the next he was banging on the doors of Infirmary.

Helen stood where Malfoy had left her, smiling with a certain level of contentedness. The corridors were almost empty now, most if not all of the students having already departed to their next class. She knew that Malfoy was going to the Infirmary, though, just as well as he'd known who they'd been refering to as 'she'. Oh, he was a smart one.

'We were right, Mrs. Weasley,' she thought to herself. After all, no one could deny a mother's intuition--sometimes, the best friend just had to pitch in a little.

Ginny only woke late that night, greeted by the sight of the Hospital Wing ceiling, so much like the one she woke up to in her Dorm. Grey and lonely, grey and lonely...so much like Draco Malfoy's eyes. His eyes were grey...no, not grey; they were silver and yellow and ebony and all of those wonderful colors and shades she would never be able to describe. She could feel those eyes though, feel them in a part of herself that seemed to know so well. She could feel everything that happened in those eyes, even though now she couldn't imagine ever peering into them after what she now knew. His torture, his pain...

Maybe he'd never be a saint, never be some one who got his kicks out of helping people. She didn't know, but she thought she could fathom what he was really like. Maybe she'd seen some glimpses of him throughout their encounters this year, maybe, just maybe. He wasn't kind, or sweet-hearted deep down inside--that was not him, and she was not going to lie to herself and say so. But he was a person, and Ginny Weasley knew that all people are essentially good. To her knowledge, it was only the factors one experienced in life that made you evil, and still a part of you would still remain humane, still itch at every nasty thing you said. Maybe Draco Malfoy had lost sight of that part of himself a long while ago, amidst beatings and cruel words--but still, he was a person. More importantly, he was a person Ginny loved, despite all flaws and imperfections, despite any facts that might have gone against him.

He was her Prince Charming, and for every Princess, there was only one.

Her heart seemed to sink again, just as it did after the effects of what was doubtlessly a Dreamless Sleep Potion wore off--all the memories of that anguish, so many agonies...all of those memories of what she'd seen seemed to rush back into her mind and haunt her, lingering over her like a stifling blanket. Oh, she didn't even want to breathe any more. She wanted to hold her breath and die, die, die, die like Draco Malfoy should have done--he should have died and escaped this cruel world. Escaped all the horrors he'd had to go through, escape all the things no person should ever have to tolerate, let alone live in.

She made a move to turn over, and only then became aware of a weight pinning down her knees, a grip loosely engaged on her fingertips. She frowned, the initial embers of panic welling in her chest, then confusion. She raised her head, and in the darkness managed to squint out a sliver of white-blonde hair, a robe-clad form half-strewn across her feet. Her heart softened, then seemed to shatter. Here he was. Here he was.

He was holding her hand, and he was still in his school robes. How long had he been here? She lay back, feeling tears rise in her eyes. He'd cared enough to come...She looked down at their intertwined fingers, his falling slightly from hers in sleep. She held on a bit tighter, the warmth of his large hand welcome, the comforting effect it had on her soul unparallel.

Oh, he'd come...she sat up, gently so as not to wake him, idly placing her other hand on his forehead to brush back his hair. He looked exactly like he had that day in Hogsmeade when they'd...slept together. Oh, how she missed the feeling of him next to her, so warm and big and protective. She could just be lost in him like that, laying next to him all night, just knowing he was there.

He shifted, his eyes fluttering open, and she smiled as those mercury orbs met hers. The moment seemed to be frozen, a smile dawning on her lips and relief rising in his eyes. It was as though nothing else mattered, nothing except for him, for him so close to her, for him...too far away.

Their lips met in a gentle frenzy, his hands falling around her waist, her hands finding their way to his shoulders, his face...oh, she wanted him all, she wanted to show him how good love could be, how he shouldn't have ever had pain. No, he never should have had pain, never, ever, ever...all she needed was a chance, a chance to show him...

He pulled away, his hand cupping her cheek with tender affection. "I'm so sorry..." he murmured, his nose pressed against hers, eyes pouring regret, shadowing confusion, "I'm so sorry."

She took a breath. "For what?"

"Madame Pomfrey told me..." he seemed to hesitate; she could see reluctance unfold in his eyes, "I'm sorry."

Her eyes screwed up as he pulled her into his embrace, "What did happen?"

He pulled away again, fixing himself next to her on the bed, twisting his mouth into a grimace. "You went into a state of shock after you...came away from the effects Cattivo Ricodare." He bowed his head, seemed to go through a moment of thorough indecision. "It's my fault, I'm so sorry."

She took a deep breath. "I love you, you know." Oh, so much had happened to him--she wasn't going to let him leave her again--no, never. She didn't care what he thought, didn't care if he wanted to protect her--she was going to protect him.

He burrowed his head into the crook of her neck, showing a kind of weakness she had never before encountered. In the dark, she could only feel his silent tears that began to soak through her pajama top. "You...you saw?"

Her heart cracked, her arms wrapping instinctively around him. "I saw."

Draco's heart broke at the words. She'd seen, she'd seen and yet...yet she was still holding him. She didn't push him away in disgust, didn't hesitate to look him in the eyes. She was treating him just the same, just the same and so much more. Now that she knew, it felt as though a weight had been lifted away from his shoulders, it felt as though he were lighter, as though all of those things that had happened were a little bit longer ago. Ginny Weasley was magic, oh she was magic--and he loved her with all his heart.

Still, the guilt in his stomach was hard to deny. She'd gone into shock after what she'd seen--it had disturbed her that much...worry knawed at him. This was bad for her psycological state of mind...he didn't want anything to happen to her, and yet the feel of her body, so small and fragile in his embrace was unbearably satisfying. He wanted more, oh he wanted so much more. He wanted more of this happiness, this abatement that came when he was with her...he wanted so much more, and he didn't know if he'd be able to tear himself away.

"I won't let you go away again," she said, and he could hear the tears in her voice, "I'll never let you leave me after what I saw. I don't care what you think. I don't care. I just love you."

And he loved her, too, he loved her so much...He couldn't stand to feel her body shuddering with sobs, couldn't stand it; he pulled away, keeping her close so that he could wipe away her tears, and kiss her again. Her hands traced patterns along his back, his hands desperately holding her near...how could he leave her after this? It was one time too many; he knew now he couldn't stand to be away from her, he knew now that it just wasn't possible for him to do. He had to be near her, or he'd go mad. He'd go stark, raving mad--he loved her so much.

He pulled away to get a breath, his mouth tasting pleasantly of her, surrounded by her familiar scent. "I don't want to leave you again, Weasley," he said, running a finger along her collarbone, "I don't want to..."

"Then don't," she told him, "It's caused me too much pain being without you...and now that I know. Now that I know..."

"I don't want to fight myself for you any more. I don't want to have to lay awake alone, praying that you'll be better off without me," he said, "I love you too much for that."

"Love me, then," she stated, "Love me for always, because I'll always love you. Because I can't live without you. Because I'll never be better off without you...because you're my everything." And there was a certain finality about those words that would cease all speaking for the rest of the night.

They stared into each other's eyes, then, lost in revelation, lost in each other. Neither wanted to move, neither wanted to leave. Moments like these were perfect, moments like these were all lovers like them would ever need.

It was many minutes before Draco, slowly, adjusted his position on the bed, moving so that she was on top of him, her small body against his chest, her legs tangled with his beneath the blankets. Then, the world was silent and it was truly night. She fell asleep like that, and he couldn't have been more happy to accomodate, trailing butterfly kissing along her exposed neck, running fingers through her hair...

Ginny Weasley had found her Prince Charming. Draco Malfoy had found his Sunset.

Author's Note: One more chappy left! What shock! What terror! Well, I think every one knows how this one is going to end. No more tragic twists at the end, like in aBR...or maybe not. Muahahaha ;-) Oh I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend, I love my boyfriend. Yeah. I'm so crazy about him...I've been crazy about him for a year and two months, and I don't think it's going away...He's going to make all of my stories turn out happy after Sunsets (hinthint)

One.More.Chappy.

Review for encouragement, and maybe (just maybe) it'll be up by next week :P