Hi! Alright, everyone, prepare yourselves! This chapter was written and rewritten and I'm still not happy with it, but that's the way it goes. I decided to post anyway. Let me know what you think. Oh, and I didn't really edit it…sorry about that.

APPLE OF MY EYE: CHAPTER 16

My heart was pounding, thundering in my chest. My legs, which up until then I had thought entirely spent, deftly continued their pace down the dark halls.

I passed the main pub, which was now completely dark save for the burning flames. I was somewhat surprised to find the room abandoned, and found myself unable to resist the peaceful ambiance it was offering. I moved closer to the fire, wrapping my arms tightly around my torso as I allowed the flickering heat to seep over me. I was waiting, a part of me knowing exactly what for.

I allowed my anxiety to melt away before the blaze, and as hard as I tried to create a plan of action, at some point I vaguely remembered that plans and strategies weren't quite part of my personality. It wasn't exactly surprising I had forgotten this—I was beginning to grow accustomed to this altered state of mind, to be honest.

In the end it came down to one simple fact: I had to do it, and it didn't really matter how.

That knowledge was acting almost like a sedative, spreading serenity throughout my body. I was quite sure I no longer wanted to keep up my charade, and my body was anticipating the sweet release that would come when I told him. An eloquent admission, a warm acceptance, maybe a snog or two, and all would be good in the world.

Right. As if it would go that smoothly. I may be a bit crazy, but I wasn't delusional. Hopefully.

I don't know how long I remained like that, sitting and wondering about what it would be like after I told him, but I felt myself grow intense, focused on my goal.

And then, like a bat out of hell, came a voice. "Hullo."

Of course he had to wait until I was in said state of mind to make his way down here, didn't he? He affectively scared the pants off of me. It wasn't just your normal 'hullo', either—it was a bit lower, mysterious, as if he was trying to say fifty more things with just that one word.

I whirled at the sound of his voice after I recovered my wits, thank-you, and my breath was promptly stolen again, though this time for an entirely different reason.

He was exquisite. Clad in a Weird Sisters shirt that was entirely too small for him and a pair of hacked-off sweatpants, he was certainly varying from his usual style of neatly pressed shirts and impeccably tailored trousers. Not that I was complaining, mind you. The shirt was clinging to him from remnants of moisture that he apparently missed when drying off, and the sweatpants, which came down several inches past his knees and actually looked more like long shorts, offered me a hefty view of toned leg. His hair was tousled about and damp, and he was barefoot.

He raised an eyebrow. "Is everything alright?"

Oh yes. "Yes, yeah. Er...I'm sorr—"

"Sorry, I know." He rolled his eyes. "I was just wondering why you didn't respond, is all."

Because you're gorgeous. "It's complicated." Not really.

"Complicated—this wouldn't be the same complicated and confusing you mentioned earlier, would it?"

I smiled a little. "You're perceptive."

He shrugged. "When I need to be, I suppose."

There was a silent moment while I tried to make sense of that. I gave up shortly, and opted for a much more simplistic concept. "How was your shower?"

It wasn't until after I asked the question and he smirked slightly that I realized it was mildly inappropriate.

"Well aside from the fact that I now smell like sodding lavender, wonderful," he drawled sarcastically.

I snorted, wondering fleetingly if Rosmerta had done such a thing intentionally. It wouldn't surprise me. "Lavender smells nice. And it's supposed to be very soothing, you know," I pointed out.

The look he sent me ended our conversation on the topic.

"Well at least your pajamas look comfortable," I said innocently, knowing full well that it would irritate him. I wasn't disappointed.

"Comfortable? This? It's positively itchy." He pulled the fabric away from his skin with two fingers, his lip curling. "She wouldn't let me leave unless I agreed to put it on."

"She was just trying to help. That shirt is probably an antique from her teenage days."

Draco raised an eyebrow, a slightly disgusted look on his face. "Antique? I'll say—there's holes in it."

"I think it's very nice of her," I informed him, trying my best not to laugh at the look on his face.

"Yes well, I would've too had I suggested even a remote interest in wearing it. Needless to say this won't be staying on long."

My blood instantly went cold. "S-sorry?" I wheezed, sure I had misheard him.

"You can't possibly expect me to sleep in this," Draco stated, looking positively resolute.

Actually I had.

"Well no, I…I just…" I trailed off awkwardly, causing a grin to spread slowly onto his face.

"Is that a problem?" he asked, cocking a bemused brow.

Well considering the last time I saw him partially shirtless I fell down a flight of stairs, such a thing might be a bit hazardous to my health. Merlin, I didn't even want to consider what would happen if I saw him entirely shirtless. Of course, I wasn't about to admit that to Draco. Not yet, anyway. I would have to deal.

"Not at all." My voice sounded impossibly small. "I just figured it might get a bit drafty in the room."

"Drafty." He sounded less than convinced.

"Drafty, yes."

His lips twitched as if restraining a smile. "Need I point out, Weasley, that the room is below ground? I don't think we'll be getting any drafts."

"Suit yourself," I shrugged, trying my best not to look as dreadfully embarrassed as I felt.

Either it was somewhat successful or he took pity on me, because he changed the subject. "So what are you doing out here all alone anyhow?" he asked, moving to lean his back against a table in such a way that he was facing me. His arms crossed across his chest and legs crossed at the ankles in his usual stance.

I almost cringed at the question. "Honestly?"

"No, Ginny, I want you to lie to me." He rolled his eyes. "Yes honestly."

"Just standing here being alone and thinking."

"Ah, so I interrupted something important I see."

"Yes, actually." Hey, if he wanted honest he was going to get it.

"That being?"

"It's what I'm confused about—it's a secret I have, something only one other person knows, and I can't keep it anymore." I kept my gaze focused on the fire, but could see him watching me out of the corner of my eye.

"So what's the problem?"

I bit my lip. "The problem is I don't know how to go about revealing it."

"May I suggest openly telling someone? That usually seems to work," he drawled sarcastically.

"I can't just throw it out there—it's a fragile topic."

Draco shrugged. "Sure you can. There's nothing wrong with being honest, remember? Throw away."

"Look I—" I ran a hand trough my hair. "Stop oversimplifying. You know very well what I mean."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do I?"

Well he damned well better or I was going to feel like an incredibly big dolt.

"Don't you have any secrets? Something you've tried telling someone but don't know how?" I asked desperately.

"Of course I have secrets—any intelligent sod does, which is probably why I've never felt the need to tell anyone about them," he said, narrowing his eyes as if this concept was completely obvious. How incredibly Slytherin.

"Well, you told me a bit about your father. Do many people know about that?"

"What's your point?"

"I'd say that's a secret."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because you're different."

"How? Do you trust me?"

He didn't reply, but I distinctly saw him swallow before he turned his head toward the fire.

A silent moment passed and an idea began rapidly forming in my mind. I blurted out, "Here, I have an idea. Follow my lead. I secretly hate the colors gold and red together."

"Ginny, I don't know that I really care—"

"Nobody knows, but it's true. I think my housemates would have me in. Your turn."

He was silent for a long moment, as if considering whether or not to accept the challenge. His eyes bore into me the entire time. Finally he spoke. "I can't stand disorganization."

I snorted. "That's a secret?"

He glared in return.

"Okay, okay…" I guess that was a start.

He looked back at me expectantly.

"The thought of eating a carrot makes me gag, but I honestly don't even remember what they taste like," I admitted.

"That's ridiculous," he stated simply, looking like he truly meant it.

"I know."

"Today was the first time I shoveled snow, and had we not had to do it for four straight hours I might have enjoyed it. And along those same lines, I suggest trying carrots—I never thought I'd enjoy spending time with Weasley's sister, but I was…" he trailed off, lifting and dropping one shoulder.

I swallowed. "You what?"

"Well for once I didn't mind being wrong about something. Who knows, you may realize they're your favorite vegetable and you didn't even know it."

I had just been compared to a vegetable. Joy. Still, part of me wondered just how literally he had meant that comparison to be taken; was I Draco's favorite vegetable?

I pushed the question from my mind, and decided to pretend it had never existed.

I continued next, deciding to take the game to the next level. "I'm afraid that the relationships in my life are one-sided."

"All of them?" His tone was almost carefully unemotional, and I wished to God he would allow himself to completely let loose just once.

"Some more than others," I answered, watching his features as closely as possible without looking downright awkward.

"Ours?" This time I detected a bit of something—trepidation, maybe? His tone was softer and slightly hoarse, less in-control.

I tried to remain nonchalant with my reply, but the fact that he had labeled this thing between us an actual 'relationship' made it difficult to suppress my excitement—his words made it real, concrete. "Sometimes."

His eyes fell to the ground, and I could have sworn I heard a scoff. "I guess I should have expected that. I can't imagine you taking a liking to me after all the rubbish I've laid on you."

My jaw nearly dropped. Was the imbecile serious? He thought I didn't like him? "I…I meant the other way around, Draco."

His gaze immediately snapped up to mine from the floor. The look was so intense I almost regretted saying such a thing; he looked angry, maybe disbelieving. I couldn't place the emotion, but it somehow made me feel like I had done something wrong, offended him somehow.

I decided to change the subject. "It's your turn."

"I don't get scared of many things," he said, looking pointedly at me, which successfully made me feel guilty, of what I didn't know. "But I do find it scary that I think I do trust you."

"I want you to trust me, which scares me just as much."

"I'm considering actually telling you something meaningful right now."

"I've been thinking about telling you something all day."

We both glanced at each other in the fire's dying light, neither of us quite willing to take the next step. The shadows made it hard to read his features, though they seemed to reveal a different part of him—something that wasn't visible in the daylight. He looked, if possible, even more gorgeous when shrouded in mystery. I just wished he would let me know what that mystery was, damn it!

Then, all at once, something seemed to click in Draco's mind. "Wait a moment—this secret of yours—I'm the one you need to tell?"

"Yeah," I replied cautiously, wondering just how much he had pieced together.

"Well then out with it!" he exclaimed, leaning forward slightly from the table so he could look directly at me. "I told you I'd talk to you about what was bothering you upstairs and now you bring up this secret business—seems to me like you could kill two birds with one stone."

I groaned. "Didn't what just happened teach you anything? It's not that easy, Draco. I didn't hear you spilling your guts out either."

"Well you yourself said you wanted to be rid of it," he defended. In my emotional state it was hard to remind myself he wasn't trying to be argumentative, and my patience wavered.

"I do."

"Well then what are you waiting for?"

"I'm scared, alright?!" I exclaimed, surprising the both of us.

"Of what?! Me?" he retorted.

"Indirectly, I suppose."

I could tell I caught him off-guard. At first he seemed shocked, but his eyes narrowed to something almost like a wince, then seemed to settle into a glare. Instantly I realized I had made a mistake. "Right," he stated crisply, rising from the table and moving to gather his things from its surface.

"Draco it's not like that—it's not what you think," I pleaded, feeling panic rise within me.

He became still at my words, his back to me, then spoke with such deadly precision I nearly felt my heart stop beating. "I suppose all I can say is that I'd listen if you told me. I just want you to know that." What that, he stalked off towards the hallway, leaving me in his wake.

I felt sick.

His use of my words from earlier had been no accident, and I immediately understood why he had done so—he had a point. Who was I to demand that he be honest with me but then withhold my own deep secrets? We were both in the exact same position. His secrets may be just as painful as mine, whether or not I thought it was possible.

I sighed. I supposed I would have to own up to that, huh? Unfortunately I could only think of one method that could possibly work for said situation, and it was going to be painful. I hurried after Draco before I could properly consider the torture I was about to put myself through.

The door to the room was open, and I spotted him sprawled in the armchair, apparently intent on the psychology text I had nicked from Rosmerta. I descended the stairs and stood before him, feeling rather like I was paying tribute to some enigmatic god.

I watched him closely. His eyes were snapping with some unidentifiable emotion, though not a pleasant one. He refused to look up to meet my gaze, evidently so thoroughly transfixed by the book that he couldn't spare me the slightest bit of attention. The charade would have been almost convincing had he actually remembered to move his eyes instead of burning a hole through a specific spot on the page.

"Draco, look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it in the way you think."

He ignored me completely. I felt my patience slip.

"Now I'm not even worthy of eye contact, is that it?" I asked furiously.

Again, no response. The feeble patience that was remaining all but vanished completely.

"You know, maybe I wouldn't be unintentionally insulting you if you'd explain why it makes you so sour in the first place!" I growled, tired of his antics.

He raised an eyebrow. Oh that did it. That bloody well did it!

"Will you stop that?!" I cried, throwing my arms up in the air.

He glanced up from the book. Now I had his attention.

"I'm absolutely tired of trying to figure out what you're thinking! I may be perceptive, Draco, but I'm no mind reader."

He snapped the book shut. "Is it really that complex, Weasley?" he sneered; I really didn't like the way he emphasized my surname. "Stop and think about it for one moment, will you? Give me one good reason why I'd want you—or anyone for that matter, but specifically you—to be afraid of me."

Well that went well. That wasn't exactly the attention I had been hoping for…

He continued when I didn't respond. "Do you any idea how bothersome it is to have people think that you want them to be afraid of you? I don't even know how that whole idea got started in the first place! I don't care what some ridiculous First Year thinks, but to have you of all people say that is just...just—"

I spoke, my voice suddenly returning. "It's not like that!"

"Not like what?" he sneered. "I'm fairly certain I know what it feels like to have people fear you, so I'll be the judge if you don't mind." He narrowed his eyes.

I took a deep breath. It was now or never. Sink or swim. Do or die. Into the fray, Ginny! "I'm not scared of you," I started timidly, and then mentally berated myself. That had sounded weak even to me.

"Will you make up your bloody mind?! For God's sake which is it? You either are or you aren't. And be honest—you're not the only one who's tired of trying to sort things out."

"I don't—"

"Just say it, Ginny!"

"I'm afraid of what you do to me, Draco, alright?"

"What?" he exclaimed, from the looks of it completely dumbfounded as his face screwed up in confusion.

"You…when you're around I…I go crazy. You wanted to know what makes me crazy and it's you," I finished lamely.

His brow furrowed. "I don't understand—what did I do that makes you afraid?"

Oh sweet Merlin! Of all the times to have a blond moment, Draco, this is quite possibly the worst! I seriously considered changing my opinion concerning the depth of his intellect. Then again, I couldn't really blame him—that "explanation" I had provided was vague at best.

"No, no it's nothing you did." I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. He just had to make this difficult, didn't he?

It was then that a horrifically brilliant idea occurred to me. The thing about those is that they're usually bad news or complete genius, and hence require careful deliberation before they are implemented.

So, naturally, I considered it for all of two seconds. "Here, stand up."

He looked wary at first, but complied nonetheless. I swallowed when the fabric of the shirt rippled against his body.

"Right now I have this weird fluttering sensation in my stomach. Take a few steps toward me, will you?"

He did so wordlessly, never breaking eye contact.

"My spine is tingling right now. Take another."

He stepped forward, now only a few inches from me. He no longer appeared completely confused; his eyes were wide, and I absently noticed he wasn't blinking. I willed myself to form the next words, convincing myself telling him the truth would be worth this.

"Now's usually the part where my mouth goes dry." I swallowed again—this time was no exception. "Touch me." I flushed slightly at the demand—hey, you would've too!

Still, despite my lack of conviction, he reached out with his slender fingers to trace a line from my shoulder to my elbow, nestling his hand comfortably in the crook of my arm. As if on cue I felt my muscles begin to writhe in ecstasy from the simple touch. I raised my hand for him to see—it was trembling. Almost instantaneously his eyes grew dark, hooded. I had to will myself to breathe, and struggled to keep my voice steady.

"O-Outside, earlier when you thought I was afraid, I was…in a way. But it wasn't what you thought. It—" My throat clenched up painfully. "It was because of how disgustingly easy it is for you to do this to me," I murmured, sending a reproachful glance down at my quavering hands. "You thought I was shaking because I was afraid—I was afraid because I was shaking, Draco. I'm not afraid of you, I…" I trailed off for a moment, not knowing how to complete my thought, or if I needed to. I looked up at him once more, and somewhat desperately asked, "Do you understand?"

He nodded slowly, and I didn't fail to notice that his eyes had transformed into the dark, intense orbs that could so easily bend my will. He was silent for what felt like forever. I didn't breathe as I watched his face for any indication as to what he was thinking.

"I'm just wondering something," he said, voice lower and even more intoxicating than usual. The hand at my elbow beckoned me toward him. I had no choice to be pulled closer still.

"W-what?" I managed, underneath the hot stare.

The corners of his mouth turned up slowly, predatorily. "What happens when I do this?" A hand slid behind my neck, the feeling of his fingers floating across my skin something similar to heaven. My nerves very nearly felt like they were in a state of euphoria, and I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried, control my body's natural reaction—I shivered.

I looked up at him hopelessly, and watched the smile grow, his eyes burn fierce beyond all measure. "You don't have to speak—that was answer enough."

I swallowed, trying to comprehend what was happening.

"How about this?" The hand at my elbow snaked around my waist to the small of my back, just above the waistband of my pajama bottoms, and pulled me flush against his body abruptly.

And let me just say, nothing could have prepared me for that. I gasped at the sudden contact, feeling all the blood drain from my face and to other er…parts of my anatomy. I closed my eyes, relishing in the feeling, and only when I reopened them did I realize that one of my own hands had worked its way up his chest and was resting at his shoulder.

Horrified, I snatched it away quickly, and attempted to back away from him. "This really isn't a good idea…I'm starting to feel a bit lightheaded," I protested. Both the verbal and physical discouragement was ignored, seemingly having the opposite effect. Go figure. With Draco I really shouldn't have expected anything else.

"No?" he asked, his voice breathy and innocent. His lowered his head slightly, moving steadily closer—to where I wasn't quite sure.

I shook my head.

"Pity," he breathed. A hand slipped under the hem of my shirt as he simultaneously whispered, "If I did this would it change your mind?" His bowed head was inches from my neck when he spoke, and I could almost feel his lips graze my skin at the sound of his husky voice. The breath on my neck combined with the feel of his fingers caressing my back made me sigh disgustingly, and I felt his lips twist into a smirk.

Of all the things, that was what made my knees go out.

"Draco, you can't do this."

"I can, actually. Very well, I might add," he said smugly.

"You really don't understand how bad it is, do you?" I asked, managing to push him away only slightly.

"Enlighten me."

Oh, that I could. "If this continues I won't be able to just…just… stand here!" I hissed.

"What's stopping you?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but then realized I had no response whatsoever. What was stopping me? I clearly recalled going into this situation with no expectations or hopes—I had noting to lose and everything to gain. This was what I had fantasized about! 'Carpe diem, Ginny!' part of my mind was yelling furiously. In fact, it sounded so angry that were it physically possible for your mind to go on protest, I think it would have in a heartbeat.

True, this was what I'd wanted, but something was missing. Believe me when I say I undoubtedly wanted to take what he was so blatantly offering, but a sickening feeling in my stomach told me that it wouldn't be enough.

And, of course, that thing that I wanted was the one that I couldn't have. I felt my body sag in defeat as I realized that if I couldn't have both that I didn't want either. Again part of me suggested that I should take what I could get, but I silenced it hurriedly. Damn my morals!

"What is it?" Draco asked, apparently sensing my reaction.

"You remember that secret I told you earlier? The one about my fear of one-sided relationships?"

He nodded.

"I'm scared right now."

There was a disgustingly long and horrific silent moment, during which his hold on me all but vanished and his eyes grew wide.

"You don't think I care?"

His words were almost more terrifying, because he almost, almost sounded hurt.

"I do. I just don't know if it's the same care I feel.

"Which is what, exactly?"

I suddenly wished he wasn't looking at me in the eye, for it would make what I was about to say a lot easier. I took a deep breath before I spoke. "I don't know if your skin tingles when I'm around. I don't know if you dissect the meaning of everything I say. I don't know if you respect my opinion, or if you're ever preoccupied with thoughts of me. I don't know if you want me to trust you more than anything, or if you're constantly wondering what I'm thinking. I don't know if you even know how you feel about me, or if you're in my position and all that you're sure about is the fact that you've never felt like this before." I let out a mirthless laugh, and shrugged my shoulders, forcing myself to drag my eyes up to his face.

From what I could tell, he looked taken aback. He watched me with unmoving eyes, his lips were parted slightly and his chest was rising and falling much heavier than usual, as if he were breathless.

I sighed, shaking my head. "Well…now you know why I'm afraid."

For a moment he looked as if he were about to say something, but then seemed to think better of it.

I couldn't take any more under his gaze and turned around, feeling exposed and bare before him. It appeared that I had rendered him speechless, and although I would normally have taken great pride in such a thing, this case was an exception. I hadn't really been expecting a response and therefore wasn't shocked when I didn't receive one, but I'd be lying if I tried to tell you I wasn't hoping he'd immediately remedy my fears and assure me that my they were completely unjustified.

I could feel his presence behind me, his eyes on my back. Not really knowing what else I could say at that point, I sat down rather abruptly in the desk chair. What I really wanted to do was to simply wait for him to answer me, but I figured that probably wouldn't look too natural or be too good for my mental health, so for lack of other options opened my journal and pulled out the quill I had borrowed from Rosmerta.

It was that moment that the reality of what I had just done began to sink in. The sensation I experienced was indescribable; I felt a pair of dumbbells lift from my shoulders, but the ache in my chest still remained, sometimes a pleasant burning and sometimes, like now, an unpleasant physical pain. My stomach was tying itself in knots at the prospects of what could happen now that I had told him. I felt exposed, as if I no longer had anything to hide behind. He knew all there was to know. It was all left up to him.

I had done all I could, and yet I was still terrified.

Because when it came down to it, I really, really wanted Draco Malfoy.

END CHAPTER 16

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