Thanks for staying with the story! Special thanks to the following:
GreekPrincess143 for the follow
Eirlys1 for the favorite and follow
narcissamalfoyjwilliams11 for review. I'm so happy you enjoyed the last chapter, and I hope this one doesn't disappoint :)
hatebelow for the lovely review as always! I'm glad you came back to fanfic and that you liked chapter 21!
Aldrean Treu Peri for the follow and review. Thanks so much! I'm very glad that you appreciate the slow building of their relationship and development. I want it to seem natural, not rushed.
roni2010 for the review! Hope you enjoy this one :)
Please forgive me if I forgot anyone. Know that your comments and follows are very much appreciated!
Regret was a bitter adversary that made everything pop out in the most peculiar ways. The background to life—the little events no one paid any mind to—suddenly struck him as odd. It made him question what he knew to be set in stone.
He despised regret.
...It's okay...
The room was shrouded in a darkness that invaded the soul and left no room for questions, though he was overflowing with them. There was nowhere else to deposit his uncertainties save for in the dark itself, which rippled along beside his bed. He watched his questions float downstream and join with the ocean of guilt.
...We were all hurt that day...
Swish, swash went the illusionary waves as they pounded against the windows. In the past, the sound had been a soothing lullaby that washed his mind free of his worries. Now it was a reminder of his filthy hands.
How? How had she known what to say? But more than that—why? Why had she said it?
If he was being poetic, he would have said that the room smelled of fizzled out expectations and deflated hopes. But then he realized how idiotic he sounded and immediately banished the thought before it made him feel worse.
...I don't sympathize with you...
Guilt tasted bizarre and foreign on his tongue—a misshapen mixture of pride and disgust. It made his stomach churn to think of her, but he could not stop replaying the previous afternoon. The words were still too fresh in his mind for him to understand, so he preferred focusing on Ginny herself and not on what she had said.
Ginevra Weasley, Ginny to everyone who still wished to live.
What was there to say? She was tangy, a burst of flavor when he was accustomed to plain bread and water. An oxymoron surely, but there it was: his life summed up in two simple facts. His father: the bread that held them fast; and his mother: the water that washed their troubles away. But like all water, she, too, evaporated eventually.
...I just pity you...
A muffled curse rung out through the night and shattered the stillness of sleep. Draco grimaced as the accidental sound reverberated around the room and woke the other Slytherins up. They grumbled at their interrupted sleep.
"Shut it Malfoy. Some of us are trying to sleep you know," Payne huffed before yanking his bed curtains closed.
Zabini eased up into a sitting position. The whites of his eyes were streaked with red and he had to blink away the gooey film blurring his vision; now fully awake, his eyes darted around in search of the culprit. His gaze landed first on the blond in the bed next to him.
Curiosity curbed Zabini's reproachful tongue as Draco punched the embroidered pillow with unnecessary roughness. Too quiet for the other to hear, colorful oaths tumbled from the young man's lips. A smirk lit up Zabini's features at seeing the normally stolid Draco indulging his frustrations.
"Alright there Malfoy?" the dark-skinned Slytherin inquired archly.
I wonder what's going on—it must be serious for him to be this agitated. Well, whatever it is, I'm sure I can have some fun with it.
Draco paused, his body taut and his breath still. "I'm fine," he stressed curtly, turning his back to the other Slytherin. Ignore him, he instructed himself. Don't let him get to you. He's doing it on purpose. Just think about something else.
Ginny. He could think of Ginny. Warm, sincere laughter; eyes that looked at him without disgust or fear; a goodness that made her entirely unattainable—he decided to stop while he still could.
...Malfoy...
Why could he not get her voice out of his head? She was nothing to him, a mere nuisance. She was a distraction—so why did her face keep bobbing back to the surface of his thoughts? Indignation swelled his chest and his eyebrows drew together like storm clouds. It irked that she had so effortlessly reduced him to a nitwit.
Laced underneath the injured pride, however, was an unfamiliar thought: no one had ever looked at him the way she did, with eyes a warm, inviting brown. Laughter and understanding had swum inside of those eyes—until he rejected that foreign warmth. Such a look was not inconsequential. It was momentous for him, a stunning development. Whether it was a good development or not, he was still pondering it.
But he was still angry at her! While she might have made him feel weak at the knee, that did not lessen the affront. She had damaged his pride—he must not forget that.
Oh! How wonderful it was to be mad. After so long of repressing his thoughts and feelings, it was a blessed relief to finally let go of the restraints and live like a normal person again. However, many said such an act was now impossible, that he could never be normal.
They looked at him and saw a monster, as if everything—every life lost, ever home ripped apart—was his fault. No one ever thought of his life, of his family. They declared him too broken, too corrupt, too this or that to warrant a second chance; even Ginny had said as much. He would prove her wrong though.
He would prove them all wrong.
Zabini chuckled under his breath in the darkness, pulling the covers up closer to his shoulders to ward off the chill Draco was projecting.
It was now clear to him what the problem was. Once, in a rare moment of weakness, Zabini had let himself fall into the same trap Draco was now in. The feelings had spread like an infection, corrupting every part of him until only a minuscule portion of his Slytherin mindset remained. Only time had cured him of his disease, and even now he sometimes still felt repulsive twinges of emotion at the thought of those kindly, wondrous eyes.
The poor fool. He should have stayed at home like the coward he is. At least then he would not have to suffer at the hands of such a terrible fate as this. Truly, I pity him for it.
"I really, really hate my life."
"Congratulations. You've made it past the denial stage and on to the appalled, depressed stage."
Stiffening in surprise, Draco glared at Zabini through the standing mirror. The latter inclined his head in greeting while the former studiously ignored him; Zabini appeared unfazed by the rebuff.
"You really should hurry. Breakfast is almost over," the dark-skinned Slytherin commented nonchalantly as he leaned against the doorway. "Besides, I think Pansy was looking for you. Seems she finally decided to forgive you and needs to talk to you as soon as possible, something about an upcoming Ball or other. You know how girls get over such trifle matters."
Maybe he was paranoid, but it seemed to him Zabini was trying to send a hidden message that Draco simply did not understand.
Deciding the safest course was to ignore the comment, Draco continued combing his hair to the side. Not one strand was allowed to be out-of-place. If he could not have order anywhere else, he would have it with his hair—or curse it off trying.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco haughtily replied in response to Zabini's first remark. As he waited for a response, he gave his reflection a nod of satisfaction.
There. Perfect.
His twin lifted its chin in studied disdain, nostrils flared and the tips of his blond hair swept back carefully. It was a practiced look, one born from observation and need. The façade projected sophistication and poise with a touch of polished authority. "I am in charge and you will do as I say," seeped from it and settled comfortably on Draco's shoulders like a familiar robe. Combined with the cold, calculating eyes of a Slytherin, it was virtually deadly.
However, Zabini was apparently one of the few who was immune to the infamous "Malfoy Stare Down."
"What do you want, Zabini?" Draco snapped. Flakes of ice were rapidly chipping off his mask. Much longer, and he would be as easy to read as parchment.
He can't know—it's impossible. Last night was not enough for him to suspect, and I've given him no other clues. He's just trying to irk me on the off-chance I'll let something slip out. Well, newsflash Zabini, I know how to keep secrets from the best of them.
"Don't worry, talking to yourself is normal for someone with your kind of condition," Zabini remarked, as if they were discussing nothing more arduous than the weather.
"My kind of condition?" the blond questioned, giving him another "Malfoy Look" meant to dissuade even the most diligent interrogator. Zabini nodded amicably, heedless of the intended warning. Impish delight lit up his serpentine eyes, showcasing the flecks of amber hidden within the irises.
Ginny's eyes are softer, Draco observed absently, picturing her proud chin, smirking gaze, and passion-colored hair. It was a pleasing combination, albeit one he had no business admiring. They're open and bright, full of fiery confidence and that stubborn Weasley pride. Zabini's are shifting, labyrinthine almost. His... His are not to be trusted. He's a Slytherin, no doubt about it. I'll have to watch my step around him.
"Yes. But don't worry, it's curable," Zabini continued, oblivious to the turn Draco's thoughts had taken. "All it takes is some work and dedication. Although it might be more difficult for you since you have detention with her."
Ahh, so that was what this was all about.
Breathing out in relief, Draco shook his head contrarily. "I have everything under control, Zabini. I don't need any help handling a Weasley," he declared, pausing to straighten his robe collar.
Zabini chuckled at the self-assured expression that had settled on Draco's features.
"Whatever you say Malfoy. What-ever you say."
Over a month! A month! Eeek! So sorry it took this long, but I've edited this chapter like crazy. I'm still not 100% satisfied, but overall it's much better than before, if a little different from the last chapter.
I can't wait to head into the deeper romance! It's going to remain a lighter romance, though, sort of felt but not really said out loud unless I change my mind later on.
By the way, for all writers and beta readers out there, I highly suggest William Zinsser's On Writing Well. While it might say it's the classic guide to writing nonfiction, much of it is invaluable for fiction and fanfiction alike. That book is part of the reason I took so long to post, since it made me see just how terrible my first few drafts were hehe.
