Misconception

Disclaimer: Own Harry Potter? Tsch. I wish.

Author's Note: This whole chapter is D/G. Talking. Getting to know each other. Trying to keep the relationship steady. PLEASE REVIEW! I've been noticing that I've been getting way more hits than reviews. That's hurtful. :( It's really nice to leave feedback.

Chapter 8: The Comfortable Silence

Draco's head continued to throb in pain, and he massaged his temples continuously in hopes that the pain would ease. He had a feeling that his brain might just explode if the pain did not stop. He groaned quietly in pain, as he put both of his hands over his eyes and pressed down. The random cold wind that blew by wasn't helping either.

"At least see Madam Pomfrey for that headache." said Ginny, who hadn't left his side.

They had been out on the stands for just ten minutes, mostly in the deepest silence. The awkward silences began to wear away, and Draco felt a bit more comfortable in a Weasley's presence. For that whole ten minutes, the pain in his head did not stop, and he was beginning to wonder if he was turning into Potter or something.

"I'm fine," said Draco stubbornly, opening his eyes and blinking furiously to clear his vision.

Ginny was sitting up on the bench now, and she glared at him. Her hair was a bit messy from lying down on the benches, so she began straightening it out with her fingers. Draco thought that was rather stupid, and he rolled his eyes at her. He took out his wand and pointed it towards her hair. With a flick, her red hair immediately became straight and neater.

She flushed with embarrassment and mumbled, "I didn't think—"

"Obviously," replied Draco coolly.

Ginny untangled her fingers from her soft hair and said, "Thanks."

Draco sat up from his bench, trying his best to fight away his headache. He closed his eyes and put his head in his hand. He felt Ginny touch his arm, and he quickly looked up. She jumped slightly at his sudden movement.

"Why can't you just go to the hospital wing?" she asked quietly, "Are you trying to prove something by sitting here and enduring the pain?"

"No," snapped Draco. "I just don't want to go."

"Well, you could save yourself the pain by just getting some headache potion." protested Ginny, taking her hand away from his arm.

Draco shook his head and said, "Why are you still here, Weasley?"

"Is it so shocking that someone is actually worried about you?" said Ginny, getting a bit angry.

"It's hard to believe that a Weasley would be worried about me." said Draco through gritted teeth, obviously getting angry at Ginny as well.

"If it weren't for me, you would've been dead!" said Ginny, crossing her arms. "And don't give me that 'I didn't need to be saved' story! That's bullocks!"

Draco could not fight the urge to roll his eyes again. The Weasley actually believed that she saved his life, which is partly true. However, he was not about to admit some wizard's debt to her. Malfoys, Weasleys, and wizard's debt aren't supposed to be in the same sentence. Her voice was piercingly annoying, and he just wanted to kill himself to make the headache go away.

A stinging pain came across his head as fast as lightening. He felt as if his skull were to split in half from it. Draco pressed his palm upon his forehead, as he began massaging it furiously. However, he stopped as soon as he started because he realized how much that reminded him of Potter. Ginny, on the other hand, had stopped looking angry and looked rather worried.

She sat beside him and was uncomfortably close. Timidly, she touched his temple, only to feel an unusually fast and rapid pulse. At first, Draco wanted to grab her wrist and throw it to the side, exclaiming to not touch him. However, her soft and cool hand felt a bit relieving over the white-hot pain.

"Are these the after effects of the Cruciatus Curse?" asked Ginny, feeling the other temple now.

Draco nodded, as he took her hand and gently pushed it away. She let out a shuddering breath, as she stared at him with eyes filled with worry and horror.

"Who did this to you?" she asked, completely appalled.

Draco shrugged and muttered, "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it does!" said Ginny sharply. "They should be in Azkaban for this!"

Draco let out a snort and said, "Like that would do anything, Weasley. The dementors have left Azkaban ages ago, so they'd escape in no time."

Ginny looked at the floor and mumbled something inaudible. However, Draco did not ask what she said because he really did not care. He looked away from her and cast his gaze upon the Quidditch field. He was feeling nothing at all, except for the pain in his head, which refused to go away. He tried to think of something else, but nothing positive came to mind.

"Perhaps we should go to dinner," suggested Ginny.

"We?" questioned Draco with an arched eyebrow. He looked back at Ginny, who flushed and muttered, "Er—you…"

"You can go to dinner," said Draco pointedly.

Ginny opened her mouth, about to protest, however she thought better of it. Maintaining her previous composure, she shrugged and said indifferently, "Alright then, suit yourself."

She got up from his side and walked to the staircase that went down to the Quidditch field. Her footsteps were audible against the wooden stairs, and Draco listened until he could barely hear the soft thuds of her steps. Finally, everything was completely silent. The bench creaked, as Draco lied down on it.

What was he to do now? Blaise was out to kill him because he suspects too much, and Draco can't even take his revenge with Dumbledore around. It was true that Blaise got away with it, but the trust Dumbledore had in him would certainly falter. His head began to hurt even more now, and he wondered when it was going to end.

He closed his eyes and tried his best not to think of the searing pain. How was he going to get back at Zabini? Would he be found out by Christmas? Anything could happen right now; perhaps he should talk to Dumbledore? Draco decided that he would go later because the bench was feeling rather comfortable at the moment. A sense of weariness came over him, and he decided that he just need to rest for a little bit…

He yawned and slowly drifted from all consciousness. Sleep welcomed him with open arms…

Draco was walking down the same path again, clear to view, but foggy at the sides. The Death Eaters appeared again, bowing their heads slightly as Draco walked past them. He saw the lone Death Eater, and he walked up to him.

As if on cue, Draco opened his mouth and inquired, "Who are you?"

No reply, but the same chilling laugh…

Draco took out his wand in a frustrated way and pointed it at the man.

"Tell me, who are you?"

Silence.

Then suddenly, the Death Eater replied with the quietest whisper, "Do you regret, Malfoy?"

"What do you mean?"

"MORSEMORDE!"

A green spark went up to the skies. It was the same mark from the last dream, and it confused Draco more and more. He turned back to the Death Eater and asked, "What is that? And who are you?"

"Who am I…" echoed the Death Eater, quietly. "You should know already, Malfoy."

The Death Eater pointed at himself and then pointed at the other Death Eaters. He repeated, "Do you regret all of this?"

"What do you mean?"

"You," said the Death Eater, edging closer towards him, "A traitor to your father, a traitor to the Dark Lord. You, who works for the Order, yet works for Death Eaters as well. You, who's doing what's 'right' and knowing what's 'wrong'. You, a blood traitor…do you regret anything."

Draco felt his blood drain from his face, and his heart drop to his stomach. He did not know what to say, and his mouth felt unusually dry.

"I'm not a blood traitor." said Draco hoarsely.

"Are you not?" asked the Death Eater with a slight sneer in his voice. "So, tell me, Malfoy, do you regret switching sides?"

Draco paused and contemplated this a moment. Slowly, carefully choosing each word, he lied, "I'm a Death Eater, and I have no idea what you're talking about. There is only one side, and that is the Dark Lord's."

The Death Eater drew his head back and laughed. It was chilling to hear, and Draco shuddered at the sound. After he stopped laughing, the masked Death Eater faced Draco once again, still chuckling slightly.

"Very good, Mr. Malfoy," he said, chuckling coldly. Soon, his laugh ended completely and his tone completely changed. Raising his wand to Draco's chest, he said, "Pity I don't believe you."

"It is a pity…" muttered Draco, looking down at the wand pointing at his chest. He cringed as the man pressed it harder into his chest.

"Do you regret this?" asked the Death Eater.

"No."

"Then, I'll make you regret it," whispered the Death Eater. Right at that moment, he unmasked himself. Draco gasped, recognizing the face immediately. However, it was too late, and Draco was too confused to stop anything. "Avada kedavra!"

Draco awoke with a start with his wand firmly grasped and raised at the ready. Cold sweat was pouring from his forehead, and his breath was raggedy and shaky. He panted, as though he had just run a mile. It took him a few moments to realize that his wand was pointed into the face of a wide-eyed Ginny Weasley, who looked fearful. For a second, he had no idea where he was. Then his thoughts were recollected, and he remembered the whole incident with Blaise…

"Malfoy?" said Ginny meekly.

Hurriedly, Draco lowered his wand and stuffed it in his pocket. He muttered an apology, as he rubbed his eyes. Ginny let out a slow breath of relief. Draco tried to remember his dream; it was so clear to him, yet all the images were slowly fading away. He put his face in his hands, forcing himself to remember the face of the Death Eater. He was so familiar…who was he….it was someone very close to him….

"Bad dream?" asked Ginny.

Draco did not reply. He put his hands away from his face and looked at Ginny. She was holding a bundle of something, and he asked what it was. Ginny blushed furiously and said, "I thought I'd bring you something to eat…"

Despite himself, Draco smirked a little; it was more like a grin, which was very unlike him. This caused Ginny to blush even more as she handed him the bundle of food. Gingerly, he took it from her hands but did not open it. He didn't feel an appetite coming on at all. In fact, he was beginning to become annoyed at the fact he couldn't remember his own dream. He stared moodily at the bundle and remained silent.

"How are you feeling?" asked Ginny.

It took Draco a while to find his words, and he merely replied with, "I'm okay."

Silence.

Draco checked his watch, which read nine thirty. He had been asleep for nearly two hours, which meant dinner had been over for two hours. Ginny must have gotten food from the kitchens, which was quite impressive to Draco. He set the bundle aside.

"Isn't it past your curfew?" asked Draco.

"I'm a prefect," reminded Ginny gently.

Draco chuckled and said, "Right."

Silence.

"What was your dream about?" said Ginny softly.

Draco looked at her, and she looked back with a small smile. He could not understand what she was talking about, or more importantly, what she was getting at. He felt her eyes trying to grasp something within his, and he saw her small hint of disappointment when she failed to find it.

"War," replied Draco curtly.

Ginny's small smile faltered and she sighed sadly. She looked at the sky and whispered, "When will it end?"

Draco did not reply. For a split second, he felt the need to comfort her. However, he shook himself from that thought. If anyone needs the comforting, it would be him. Although her whole family was in the Order, he was at risk, alone. At least she had people around her. However, the bitter thoughts did not seem to stand on a solid ground, as he felt a small feeling of sympathy.

Draco clenched his fists and forced himself to kill the emotions. Why was he feeling these emotions? Did the Cruciatus Curse actually make him delirious?

"Do you always stay up late by yourself?" asked Ginny.

"What do you mean?" said Draco, rather stupidly.

"Every time I'm out here, I always see you playing Quidditch," said Ginny, "or just hovering in mid air, when you're not trying to be a good seeker." She let a small forced laugh.

"Sounds like someone is being quite the stalker," drawled Draco with a smirk.

"That's not what—" began Ginny hotly and blushing madly.

"Because Potter is taken, you need to find another guy to stalk," teased Draco, "It's okay, I understand: you can't help it because of my astonishing good looks."

Ginny rolled her eyes but couldn't help but to smile. Her blush did not fade away, as she said, "That's not what I meant!"

"Then what did you mean, Weasley?" said Draco, smirking.

"Well…what are you thinking about?" asked Ginny tentatively. "I mean, it can't be N.E.W.T.s, as you said before because only Hermione does that."

Draco shook his head and said, "Stop acting like you care so much."

Ginny began to protest, but Draco interrupted, "You don't care about me, Weasley. You can't care about me. I'm a Malfoy, you're a Weasley. Hell is supposed to freeze over when this happens."

"Well, I guess hell is cooling down a bit because I can't help but to feel a bit concerned," said Ginny. Her face was as red as her hair now, and she muttered to herself inaudibly. However, Draco caught the words, "Why did I say that?"

He smirked at her, which caused her to blush even more if that was possible. From what he could see, Ginny was a bit taken with him. It was very amusing. Many girls have fancied him before, but none were like Ginny—she was innocent. Well, he could not assume that Ginny actually fancied him, but she was quite embarrassed at the things she said. Suffice to say, she held concern for him.

"Now why would you be concerned for me?" asked Draco with a soft, mocking tone.

"I don't know," said Ginny, almost in a desperate tone. "You just seem so—so…"

" 'So' what?"

"So alone," she finished lamely.

"That's funny coming from you," said Draco, narrowing his eyes. "I distinctly remember you telling me not to think I'm alone in this God forsaken world. Now, you're saying I am alone."

She did not say anything. Ginny knew he was right, and a look of guilt came over her.

"But you shouldn't be so alone," said Ginny earnestly.

"But I am." said Draco.

"Why do you always make it seem like nothing can be saved?" Ginny asked gently.

He shook his head. For a second, he wanted to tell her the very reason he was alone, but he couldn't. Draco also could not understand why she made him feel the need to prove himself innocent, to prove that he wasn't like his father, to prove he was on the right side.

Why? Was it because she was the only person that showed that she cared for him? But didn't Luna show it too? But why Weasley? Out of everything her brother has said about him, why did Ginny insist on showing this concern? Was it genuine?

As if on cue, both of them lied down on the same bench. Their heads were almost touching, and they both gazed up at the calm night sky. Draco heard Ginny sigh quietly. For some reason, it didn't seem awkward that she was here anymore…

Silence.

"Do you think the Chudley Cannons will win this season?" asked Ginny, trying to change the dynamic and the subject.

Draco was grateful for the change of subject.

"No, they're the worst team," replied Draco, humoring her, "Tornados are going to win, as always."

"The only reason you support them is because they just started winning a few seasons ago," justified Ginny.

Draco thought of this for a moment and said, "True."

"So do you think you're going to catch the snitch this time?" asked Ginny, "Our match is after Christmas break."

"Would you rather have me or Potter catch the snitch?" said Draco coolly.

"Harry," answered Ginny, truthfully. "I want Gryffindor to win."

"I don't really care who wins, anymore." said Draco quite honestly.

"The old rivalry between you and Harry doesn't exist anymore, then?" asked Ginny skeptically.

"I meant that I don't really care much for Quidditch," explained Draco, "And it's more than rivalry, Weasley; it's hate."

"The same hate you hold for my family?" asked Ginny testily.

"Why do you ask that question, when you know the answer, Weasley?" said Draco with a hint of anger.

"But you don't seem to hate me," said Ginny.

Silence.

"Don't flatter yourself, Weasley." said Draco, finally.

At this point, Draco was expecting Ginny to leave. However, she remained, lying motionless on the bench. He felt the silence creep upon them again. These silences weren't as awkward as Draco expected them to be. They were quite comfortable, and it wasn't silent because they were angry. He felt that the silence was rather calm, and it was only there when they had nothing else to say.

"If you hated me, you would have left hours ago." said Ginny.

"Well, I like it here, Weasley," pointed out Draco. "Therefore, I have the right to stay."

"So you'd stay in one place, even though someone you hate or you absolutely cannot stand is there?" said Ginny with the same skeptical tone she used before.

"Yeah, I would, Weasley," said Draco, thinking how he was in the exact situation now. It was rather ironic how she brought it up…

"It's Ginny."

"What?" asked Draco, snapping out of his thoughts.

"My name," pointed out Ginny, "It's Ginny..."

"I know what your name is," said Draco indignantly.

"Well, then, use it," said Ginny crossly, "Stop calling me by my last name. It gets annoying."

"You call me Malfoy, and I don't have a problem with it," argued Draco.

"That's you, Draco." said Ginny with great emphasis on his name. "I, on the other hand, would like to be called Ginny."

"Too bad, Weasley."said Draco, emphasizing her last name on purpose. He smirked to the night sky, as he heard a huff of annoyance.

"Ginny."she corrected.

"I like Weasley better."said Draco, which was untrue. In the back of his head, he did like calling her Ginny.

"Or Ginevra, if you prefer," said Ginny.

"Ginevra?" said Draco. "I didn't know that was your actual name."

"I like Ginny better though," she said quickly.

In truth, Draco thought they were both good names. However, he was not about to say that to the Weasley. Therefore, he remained silent, scolding himself for actually being friendly to her. But he could not help but to be nice to her, it started to come naturally. It wasn't a good sign.

Silence.

"Are you going home for Christmas?" asked Ginny.

Draco felt his heart sink. He sighed dejectedly and said huskily, "Yeah, I am."

"Well, that will be good, won't it?" said Ginny optimistically but not really meaning it. Draco could tell.

"No, it won't." said Draco.

Silence.

"I'm staying here for Christmas," said Ginny.

"Oh."

"Mum reckons it'll be safer than the Ord—." Ginny stopped and immediately said, "With the war going on and everything."

"Than the Order Headquarters, you mean." said Draco, quietly.

"I—er—well, no…" stammered Ginny uncertainly.

"Don't worry," muttered Draco gruffly, "It's not like I'm going to start torturing you for information."

He was annoyed that she would actually think that. A familiar burn began to ignite from his forearm. He pressed his hand over it, knowing for sure he won't be able to Disapparate now. He checked his watch: it was eleven o'clock. It was a usual time for Death Eater meetings. As usual, he couldn't attend. The burn increased and he let out a small gasp of pain.

"Are you okay?" asked Ginny concernedly.

"Yeah, I just…" Draco trailed off. "I just got a splinter."

Ginny began to sat up and she said, "I can take it out."

"No, it's okay, Weasley," said Draco quickly. "I got it out.'

"It's Ginny." she said, lying back down with a small hint of annoyance in her voice.

He smirked and was amused at her persistence. In fact, he couldn't fight the urge to actually smile. But he quickly stopped smiling, realizing how inappropriate it was. Well, inappropriate wasn't the word—he just didn't understand why he was beginning to grow so…fond of Ginny.

He closed his eyes. He must be tired. He shouldn't be thinking these things, and it was certainly very un-Malfoy like. The more he kept his eyes closed, the more tired he became. He heard Ginny yawn and become silent again. Draco opened his eyes and closed them again. He took their millionth time of silence as an advantage to rest his eyes. He was just going to rest them…

His breathing became slow and heavy. Consciously, he noticed how their silence lasted a while than he expected. However, he didn't mind. Soon, he was drifting off into a deep, dreamless, peaceful sleep. A type of sleep he hadn't had in months, and it beckoned him warmly. He followed and was soon asleep.

Unknowingly, Ginny was the same.

It was a comfortable silence.

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