four: fear

n.

something that causes feelings of dread or apprehension;something a person is afraid of

With the bed still unmade, Draco lay across it, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. He breathed in and out deeply, trying to think about what was going to happen the next day and also trying to take his mind off it at the same time because he knew that thinking about it was only going to increase his level of stress. Tomorrow was it – the day that was going to decide his future. He would find out if his role in the war was truly forgotten. What others thought of him was going to determine whether or not he could keep his job and his money and his assets…

…and whether or not he'd ask her to marry him. Or, rather, whether or not he could afford to. Whether she would be shamed by having his name added onto hers. He couldn't ask her to do that if the world still believed him to be less than human.

A gentle knock on the doorjamb instantly brought him back to reality. She was standing there, dressed for bed in her silky white nightgown, her red hair pulled off her face and into a messy bun. Her face was completely unmade up and she looked rather unkempt, but to him she was just perfect.

In her hands she held two mugs.

"Do you ever stop thinking?" she teased. She remained in the doorway, just staring at him and smiling to herself.

The corner of Draco's lip turned upwards slightly. "Not very often," he answered truthfully. "You coming to bed?"

She glanced at their bed and laughed. "I guess I forgot to make the bed this morning."

He shrugged. "I don't mind."

"Me neither," she answered with a smile as she finally did enter the room. "I prefer it unmade, in fact. Takes less time to get comfortable, I think." She held out one of the mugs for him to take. "It's cocoa."

Draco accepted it gratefully and took a sip. He loved, more than anything, that she not only knew that he needed the comfort, but she also knew exactly how he liked it. Only Ginny knew how bad his sweet tooth really was.

Ginny took a sip from her own mug as she looked skeptically at her boyfriend. "You know, it makes me uncomfortable to sleep beside a man who won't even tell me what's on his mind."

"You sleep beside many men who don't talk to you?" he asked dryly.

She smirked at that. "A few of them."

Draco stared into his mug. He smiled at the way she had piled on the whipped cream and chocolate sprinkles and added bits of crushed up candy canes on top along with several maraschino cherries. It wasn't the prettiest presentation he had ever seen, but she made sure she'd added in all of his favorites. And he'd take thoughtful over perfection any day.

"So, are you going to tell me what's bothering you, or am I going to have to take back that hot chocolate?"

Draco laughed out loud. "Those are my options?"

"Well, what else was there the threaten you with?" she asked, grinning.

"You could tell me that you'd leave me if I didn't talk."

Ginny bit her bottom lip. "Draco, I'm not going to lie. You frustrate the hell out of me when you keep to yourself like this, but I don't ever want to leave you. The thought of that… it just makes me ill."

His hand without cocoa reached out and laced its fingers with hers.

After a few minutes of silence, Ginny fixed her eyes on her boyfriend. "Does this mean that all of my hard work is going into the bin, Draco?" she asked with a mock pout. "I slaved over a stove for, you know, a few whole minutes!"

"A few minutes, eh?"

"Yes," she confirmed with mock direness. "And I wasted probably a sickle's worth of chocolate… maybe even two sickles total for all of those ingredients."

Draco sighed, the corners of his lips still turned up into a smile. He didn't want to talk about what was bothering him – he already knew what she'd say. She'd tell him not to worry, that he was wonderful, and that she'd always be by his side, regardless of what other people said about him. She would say that everything would be fine, just as long as they had each other. And then he would continue to sit beside her, drinking his perfect mug of cocoa that she had fixed for him and he would maybe even start to feel better.

He considered this scenario in a bit of a stunned silence. Well, that all didn't sound so bad, did it?

His attention turned back to Ginny, who was waiting patiently for him to decide what was going to happen next. Either he could be comforted with hugs and cocoa and love from her, or she could take his cocoa away – which she probably wouldn't do anyway – and spend the night with hurt feelings, hoping that maybe tomorrow he'd confide in her. He knew that she believed he'd choose the latter because he had such a difficult time opening up to anyone.

But he surprised her.

"Well, I found out that tomorrow, I'm due in at the Ministry to see if I'll be allowed my inheritance after all…"

Because in the end, he'd take her perfectly imperfect self – complete with unmade beds and mugs of cocoa that were much tastier than they were pretty – over stress any day.

Thanks to Sam (MissingMommy) for her thoughts!