Dream of Love
Chapter 2

Ginny sat through her History of Magic class bored beyond belief. Her head had been dropping as she doodled on a piece of parchment until she looked down. She'd written his name in very tiny letters. Draco Malfoy was written so tiny that it was almost illegible, but it was there. She dipped her quill in her ink bottle and scratched it out so it was just a large block of ink.

She hated Draco; she hated his father who'd given her that stupid diary. He'd let her be controlled by a Dark Lord, forced her to release a beast that could've killed everyone in school, only to be saved by Harry.

Harry the opposite of Draco, Harry the good kind boy, Harry who'd she once had a crush on, Harry who know looked like one of her brothers, Harry who was no longer her hero but her brothers; and Draco the spoiled boy who got everything he wanted, the boy that she'd always hated, the boy that had looked so irresistible at breakfast so many weeks ago, the boy who that day had changed a little to her.

She still hated him; she told her self that so many times she began to believe it. She didn't really know him enough to hate him, but is hate not an emotion, like love? When it comes to it, hate and love are on the same vertical line and slowly fade into each other. Love fades to like which fades to dislike which fades to hate, or hate grows to dislike which grows to like which grows to love. So, they are not two emotions, but the same emotion on different points of a line.

She grinded her teeth, she wanted to stop thinking about Draco, about the short white blonde hair that was so ruffled and human, about the way his flush cheeks made him look so kind; but she couldn't.

She told herself it was just because she was lonely; she just wanted someone to love and to love her that was why she was thinking about him. He had been attractive one day of the hundreds she'd seen him and she'd let her imagination get the better of her, that's all. Nothing more nothing less than female hormones.

He had been very attractive that morning, right before he ran that awful hair product through his hair. He looked so young, attractive, fit, like a normal boy. He hadn't looked like a replica of his father that day; he'd looked like a different person.

Ginny grinded her teeth again and told herself that Draco was a replica of his evil death eater father who deserved the dementor's kiss. Draco was head boy, the most evil head boy since Voldemort himself, and Ginny wanted to stop daydreaming about him. She was good and he was bad, two different sides of the spectrum, but was the spectrum only black and white? Could it be that Draco wasn't black but gray? He could be gray, not yet as evil as his father. He could be blue, tainted but still pure. Maybe his was two colors, black on the outside, white inside.

Draco is not blue or gray, but black pure black, she told herself. She didn't want to view him as anything but evil, because that was who he was. He wasn't going to change and become a hero, or an honest person. He wasn't going to turn into Harry just as much as Harry wasn't going to turn into Draco, but that didn't stop her from wanting it to happen.

For the past few weeks, Draco's heart had been fighting, fighting against his mind and body to break out, to be in control of him. His heart was weak, however, to weak to beat both his body and his mind, so it conquered his mind, pouring dreams into his head. They were dreams of a girl whose hair fell softly on her face, whose eyes were filled with a warm glow, who rosy lips called him to her side.

He would walk towards her wanting to see her better, to touch her, to feel her hair, her porcelain cheeks, to caress the rosy lips with his own. He could never reach her, for every step he took, she took two. So he would stop, and stare at her until he woke up. He'd push the dream from his head, not being able to remember the face, for he knew the girl. He knew who she was, he knew so many things about her, but sometimes forgetting is better than remembering. If he forgot she'd still be a mystery, and eventually he'd break down. His body and mind would become weak, while his heart grew because of the dream girl.

Dreams, he told himself, were just dreams. Some girl in his dreams meant nothing, no matter who she was. Even if she was so beautiful it was almost blinding, so pure that a light radiated around her, so amazing that it was inconceivable to him. He didn't want pureness; he didn't want a girl surrounded by a white light; he wanted one shrouded in the darkness he lived in. He thought he was evil, a dark wizard on the cusp of greatness, not a knight in shining armor ready to rescue the good princess from the evil king. He thought that was what he wanted, to be dark, evil, powerful beyond reason, but idle wants are not truths of the heart, but lies of the mind. Wants are weak, you will not strive for a want, die fighting for a want, but desires, desires lead young men to early graves, great men to old ages. Desires are strong, stronger than any emotion, because they come from the heart, not the mind. They are wrapped in spirit, protected by true emotion.

What did Draco desire? He thought he desired another girl in his bed, more money in his pocket, more power at his finger tips, the ability to instill terror with just the whisper of his name. Those, however, were lies his mind was feeding him, telling him that those were things that one should want for and desire for.

His heart was a different story. His heart wanted love, true love, can't eat, can't sleep, die without you love. His heart wanted to have a partner, another person with a heart like his, strong and righteous; but the screams of his heart were still muffled when he was awake, still silenced while his mind turned over evil thought and his body consumed itself in evil deeds. Only when he was asleep did his heart break through, able to change him a little each night.

Change is not easy, how could it be? To become someone or something different took time, patience, desire. It would happen, maybe not in a month, maybe not in a year, but it would happen, hopefully before it was too late.

Evil doesn't survive; it is always squashed by good. If Draco is pure evil, he hasn't the time to change, good is chasing him, trying to conquer him, but will it result in death or change?

Ginny hated to be alone, to be without someone to love; but she couldn't let herself fall into a pit of self-pity. She knew it was only a matter of time until she met him, until he rode in and saved her; but Harry had saved her, he'd come in knowing he'd face a basilisk. So, no, she would have no knight in shining armor coming to rescue her, maybe it would be like Fleur and Bill, working together. Maybe it would be like Harry and Lily meeting on the quidditch pitch, they were so perfect together. Lily who had always been so rough and tumble always took time in the mornings to look nice for Harry, always seemed so much more feminine around him, even if it did take months for him to win her over, just like his parents. Fred had met his girlfriend in his store; she'd accidentally knocked over an entire shelf of dungbombs, causing the store to smell for ages.

She hated not having someone, someone who was on your side no matter what, who wanted to be someone you loved because they loved you so much they couldn't stand being without you. She wanted love and romance and the whimsical dreams all young girls have. She wanted him to sweep her off her feet, to stun her, amaze her, be so perfect she was unable to resist his charm.

She wondered if that was even a reasonable dream. Had her brothers swept their girlfriends off their feet? Ron had actually crashed and fell onto Susan, Harry had accidentally hit a bludger right into Lily causing her to fall off of her broom, only to be caught by Harry feet from the ground, Fred had jinxed Emily, thinking she was trying to steal something when she was trying to hold up the shelf of dungbombs, which fell as soon as he immobilized her, and Bill, well Bill would stare at Fleur and she would stare back until he finally got the courage to ask her for a date, which Ginny guessed had involved a lot of staring.

She realized she was aiming to high, she realized she needed to lower her standards. She didn't want him to sweep her off her feet, just love her, that's all. She just wanted someone to love her, and for her to love back, of course. But where could she find that? Not many boys fall in love with a Weasley, especially with six brothers, including Harry and excluding Percy, who would definitely kill them if they hurt her, which she thought was okay, it weeded out all the jerks. It weeded out everyone; well Ernie McMillan had asked her for a date, and Justin FinnFitchly, they were very sweet to her, maybe afraid of Ron and Harry who scowled at them in the Three Broomsticks.

Ginny sighed; she needed to get her mind off of loneliness and onto better things. She got off the couch and walked through the portrait hole. The noise of the Gryffindor common room was bothering her as she wallowed in her self-pity and loneliness so she decided to head to the Prefect common room, it was always much quieter. The prefects were almost always studying; they left the loud games of exploding snap for their House common rooms. She plopped down on the couch and watched the fire in the silence.

The silence was broken by whispers, whispers which were probably meant to be unheard, but Ginny eavesdropped anyway.

"I'm tired, Parkinson," Draco Malfoy said, his voice not sounding at all tired but alert as if he were searching for something.

She heard the girl moan as if trying to talk Draco into something. Ginny wondered what it was, was she planning an attack? Surely they wouldn't do that in the Prefect common room, they're thick, but not that thick.

"Please, I'll do all the work," Pansy said seductively. It made Ginny sick, Pansy's voice was coated with a thick layer of false sweetness, like unsweetened cocoa, it looked like chocolate but it was bitter. Ginny didn't want to know what Pansy had meant by that, surely she wouldn't be asking for help with an attack then saying she'd do all the work. No, it was something else, something Ginny knew was less dangerous, less malicious, but still as disgusting.

Draco chuckled softly and Ginny knew what she meant, she was trying to seduce him, not get him to do something for her by enticing him, but actually trying to get him into bed. Ginny wanted to leave and to throw up at the same time; this was the worst conversation she'd eavesdropped on in a long time.

"Parkinson, I'd like to pretend that it would happen that way," Draco said his voice low and like a sweet music to Ginny's ears. It resonated in a way that drew Ginny to him; she felt her heart tingle and closed her eyes, waiting for him to continue. "But, I'm not one to lay back and let the woman do all the work."

Ginny found that oddly attractive, almost like he was caring for the women he took into his bed, but she was also disgusted. She knew it was wrong for her to be thinking these things about Draco Malfoy, but she couldn't help the way her body was reacting to him.

"You girls never do it right, not even for yourselves," he said his voice now starting to sound tired. Maybe he was tired of the conversation, or he had finally given up his search and the alertness had dropped.

Ginny knew she should stop listening, stop eavesdropping, it was wrong and not at all the type of conversation she wanted to hear.

The chair creaked and Ginny imagined one of them had leant back, "You know, Draco, there is one thing that you always enjoy and never exert yourself for," Pansy said her words sticky. Ginny was beginning to loath the girl more, though she didn't know why. She didn't have a claim or even an ounce of feeling for Draco, so why did she hate that the girl was trying to seduce him.

Draco chuckled again, "Something that mouth of yours is good for," he said causing Pansy to hit him, though Ginny could tell it wasn't meant to correct him for his bluntness or the disgusting words that had left his mouth, but to make it seem as if she cared about what he'd said.