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Well, this is certainly going better than I had expected, was his first thought. His next, Oh mighty Salazar, she's going to kill me for this. Amused in a distant, unfocused way, he let his lips curl against hers. So soft, so smooth, so perfect—not real, can't be real, please be real.
In response, Ginny stiffened, her eyes widening in shock. He's kissing me! He's kissing me! And I don't hate it. Suddenly, she relaxed and leaned into him, her eyelids sliding down to block out reality.
Relieved that she was not shoving him away, Draco kissed her again. The tightness in his chest loosened. For a moment, he forgot who she was, who he was, that what they were doing was so wrong, wrong, wrong. All that mattered was that he was kissing her and she was kissing him back.
He liked how she kissed, all confidence (she knew what she liked, what she did not—and to think he fell in the first category, if her eager reciprocation was any indication) and apprehension(every kiss was another first kiss, another "I don't want to do it wrong! Merlin, please don't let me do it wrong!"). The funny thing was, he did not want to do it wrong either.
He had more reason to fear messing up than she did. Practice made perfect only if one actually had any sort of practice, after all.
As soon as their lips touched, her hesitation disappeared, like the "Crack!" when someone Disapparated. It was sudden, unexplainable, unreasonable. Most of all, it was right.
Then the little voice in the back of her mind spoke up (I hate you, she growled at it, I hate you), "You are nothing to him, remember? Once again, you're just a poor, stupid little girl."
His words, so twisting, so slippery (and so achingly like His, from so long ago) sliced through her thoughts. I am not your friend. I don't care about you. Other words—His words—, dredged up from the pit where she had thrown them, tacked themselves on to the end.
"Stupid little Ginny. I never cared for you. You were just a means to an end, nothing more." Then, with His face bleeding into his, "Love is weakness, dearest Ginny. I told you that. Why didn't you listen? You never listened."
Her eyes flew open. Reality crashed back down on her shoulders. So heavy.
Eyebrows furrowing, Ginny pulled back. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded, shoving him away and planting her hands on her hips. The way he was staring at her was disconcerting, as if she was a Snitch and he was playing for the Quidditch World Cup. "I know you did not just do that."
You did. I did. We did. Her heart raced. I kissed Draco Malfoy. And I kind of...sort of...maybe...might have enjoyed it a teeny, tiny bit.
In her mind, she pictured Hermione standing before her; arms crossed; lips pursed, eyebrows set in that stern, disapproving way she had. Okay, so I really, really enjoyed it. The fictional Hermione huffed, shaking her head so hard that her curls bounced around and smacked her in the face.
Draco stared back at her, his eyes wide and face pale. Mentally, he berated himself for giving in to the ball of emotion festering in his chest. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, he alternatively sighed and yelled at it. As if in retaliation, it swelled agonizingly large when he locked gazes with her.
"I didn't mean to." Somehow, those were not the right words. He could tell as soon as they left his tongue, the way her eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Oh, really. You. Didn't. Mean. To," Ginny repeated slowly, her voice dripping with barely constrained venom. Words seemed to fail her, and she resorted to shaking her head in disgust. I didn't mean to, his voice whispers in her ear again. To kiss her? To hurt her? To fall for her? Whatever he meant, the words hurt the same. I didn't mean to.
Draco hated feeling this way—wary, frustrated, terrified, hopeful, raw, tentative and relieved, all at the same time—and turned his head away to hide the implications etched into his features. They felt like an impulsive pen mark slashing the page of his face, carelessly flinging ink-dotted emotions everywhere.
He felt light-headed. The room threatened to spin, and he squeezed his eyes shut before reluctantly cracking them open again. Brilliant. Now I can add a splitting headache to the long list of complaints.
"That...complicates matters," he acknowledged after an awkward silence.
Understatement of the century, Ginny mused with a twisted humor, rolling her eyes. As she shook her head, she debated whether to flee to the safety of her dormitory or stay and face him. Obstinacy won out over embarrassment. She stepped closer.
The moonlight streaming in from the window hit his face and emphasized the silver coloring of his formerly washed-out eyes. She remembered how dull they had been on the train at the beginning of the year. Now his eyes were full of color, of wholesome, uncontaminated emotion; so full that she had to look away. At the same time, she struggled with the urge to scrutinize them further.
Romance books always said the eyes were windows to the soul and that by gazing into a person's eyes, one could read his very soul. When Ginny first read about it, she had laughed it off, but now, as she stared at Draco, she did not find it so frivolous. His eyes were not as cold as she had expected them to be; shame weighed them down, turning them into flinty pebbles, but hints of grey shone through the darkness. A few seconds ago, immediately after he kissed her, they had been a molten grey, like drops of liquid silver. Complications.
"Yeah," she remarked shakily. "What now?" I didn't mean to either, Draco, but I did—we did. Tell me it wasn't a mistake. Tell me you don't regret it. As much as she despised herself for it, she did not, could not, regret it. Her little girl heart yearned for him to feel the same.
Her voice was a whisper, making it easy for him to deny that he had even heard it. A part of him wished he could erase this entire night, forget all about that stupid, stupid kiss. A larger part knew he would never forget it.
"I have no idea." He lifted a hand and thrust it through his hair in frustration. "This wasn't exactly how I had planned on apologizing. And I do apologize. I didn't mean it, any of it. I was just..." His tongue felt thick in his mouth. "...scared." Of going to Azkaban, of messing everything up, of caring too much. The words remained in his throat, unspoken just like so many others.
Ginny took a deep breath. The anger simmering inside her chest made it hard to breathe. It was easier to stroke the indignation than to admit to the feelings bubbling beneath it. "That doesn't give you the right to treat me like your house-elf, Malfoy. I thought we...I thought we were friends. I guess I was wrong about that too. You were scared? Well, so was I!" Harry didn't scare me.
Cringing, Draco closed his eyes with a slow nod. "I understand." And he did-really, he did. But what he knew in his mind did nothing to stop the pain aching in his chest from her rejection.
"But..." The word slipped out her mouth against her will. Draco's head jerked up, his eyes popping open, when he heard it.
Ginny chewed her bottom lip. Harry had not made her feel like this—exasperated, flustered, satisfied, giddy, hesitant, centered. Harry had made her feel safe, stifled at times but still safe. Draco, on the other hand, made her feel normal, made her feel like Ginny again. Only now was she beginning to understand who that really was. If the cost of that was a little insecurity—a supposed contradiction but not really, not to her—then so be it.
Mum always said love made a girl go mad, she mused wryly. I just never thought it'd feel like this. Her mind made up, she lifted her chin determinedly.
"I'll forgive you," she began, her tone full of the strong, confident ring he had missed so much, "On one condition."
He eyed her warily as she stalked forward. Maybe too strong, too confident. Just in case, he slipped a hand in his robe pocket and fingered his wand. Knowing her, though, a simple shielding spell would do nothing to protect him from her wrath, merely delay the inevitable.
When only inches separated their faces, she continued vehemently, "You never ever try to protect me like that again. Yeah, I know exactly what you were doing. You and Harry have more in common than you think, Malfoy. I'm not a little girl anymore, so stop trying to treat me like one. I like you a lot more than I should, and I'm not going to sit by while you ruin every good thing you've got left, including this thing between us, whatever it is."
Caring about you scares me. The way you make me feel scares me. You, Draco Malfoy, are a very scary guy.
Eyes wide, Draco stared at her. She cares, he thought dazedly. She still cares. After everything he had done, after every harsh word he had thrown in her face, she still cared about him, cad that he was. The knowledge rested like a hot coal in his stomach. She didn't give up on me. Determination swept through his body, and he straightened his shoulders. He would not make her regret it again.
Another voice whispered, "But will it last? How many times will she look past those biting words and strained rebuffs? You know how you can be some days, but does she?" Would she understand or would she just write him off as a lost cause? The possibility made him wince. How would he survive losing her again? Everything he had worked for in his life had been taken away from him or he had botched it of his own accord. How was this any different? "It's not."
Unconsciously, his hand strayed to his tainted arm, his fingers rubbing at the skin through the sleeve. It was becoming a nasty habit of his, one he was determined to break someday.
Ginny read the fear in his eyes and sighed. Stupid Malfoy, always thinking the entire world's against him. "Stop worrying," she commanded him, softening her words by placing her hand on his forearm. She made sure it was his left one, stilling his agitated scratching. "Let the future worry about itself for once. No matter how much of a prat you are, I'm still you're friend. I'm not going anywhere, so stop trying to make me."
Taken aback, he shook his head and thought back to Dumbledore's letter:
What has happened has happened, but that doesn't mean we can't change who we are now. The past is gone, and all we have left is the present. Leave the future to worry about itself.
"And just why are you looking at me like I've sprouted two heads?" Ginny huffed. When he remained silent, a forced smirk on his face, she narrowed her eyes and lifted her fist threateningly. "I could still punch you, you know."
"Please don't. I'd hate to ruin the moment by bawling like a baby," he responded, laughing when she stuck her tongue out at him. His expression changed suddenly, and he reached out a hand to touch her cheek. So soft, so smooth, so perfect. His thumb grazed a dried tear trail. At his touch, Ginny swallowed hard. "What are you—"
"Not worrying," Draco answered lightly, carelessly. In contrast, his eyes glimmered with uncertainty and fear. "Whatever's going on between you and me, I don't want to mess it up again." He stepped closer until he could see the amber flecks in her eyes. "I just want to take things slow and...and see what happens next. Okay?"
The vulnerability in his voice, the way he shifted his feet self-consciously and avoided her gaze, brought a soft smile to Ginny's face.
"Okay. I can do slow." Her smile twitched into a smirk. "Just not too slow."
Chapter 39: "Hermione, I think I..." She swallowed hard, her throat raw. "I think I'm in love."
