Chapter 2 : Trying not to blur the line
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Wait! He nearly slapped himself in the face. As Malfoy approached the gargoyles outside the headmaster’s office—Colin was already inside—he pointed his wand at himself and said, “Finite Incantatem!”
As an experiment, he said out loud, “Ginny Weasley is a blood traitor bitch.”
Malfoy smirked to himself; he was back. Before he could try and figure out the password for Dumbledore’s office, it opened, revealing the flight of stairs beyond.
When he got to the main part of the office, Colin was sniffling in a chair opposite Dumbledore, who was speaking quietly to the younger Gryffindor.
“Ah, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore, “you are here.”
Malfoy leaned against the wall and inclined his head in what he evidently thought was a regal manner.
“Please tell me your version of events, Mr. Malfoy,” said Dumbledore softly, having already heard Colin’s jumbled version.
Malfoy rolled his eyes. “I went to see the girl in the hospital wing, Creevey pissed me off, and I was going to hit him but she got in the way and I hit her instead.” His gray eyes were icy and betrayed no guilt. “She fell to the ground and began having a seizure.”
Dumbledore seemed to be waiting for Malfoy to say more, but the Slytherin did not oblige.
Finally Dumbledore sighed. “You may leave, Mr. Creevey. It is quite late and I know that you will wish to be your most alert for the first day of classes tomorrow.”
Colin left quietly, his small frame looking dejected.
“Draco,” said Dumbledore, his tone almost cajoling. “I do believe that you know more than you tell.”
Malfoy glared angrily at the old man in front of him and snarled in frustration, “Just give me detention already, I don’t need this!”
“I am interested in your reasoning, Draco,” Dumbledore said calmly. “This is your last year at Hogwarts and you will need to be able to control your anger, lest you hurt someone else.”
When Malfoy made no response, Dumbledore said very quietly, “Do you know who she thought you were yesterday by the lake?”
Malfoy looked the headmaster in the face for the first time, his interest caught.
“No,” said Malfoy matter-of-factly. “Sir,” he added quickly.
“You look extraordinarily like your father, Draco.” Dumbledore paused, letting that sentence sink in. “You did not fight in the final battle, am I correct?”
Malfoy looked intently at the old man’s eyes, watching for any sign that he was mocking him. There were none, so Malfoy replied, “No.”
Dumbledore nodded. “And have you spoken to your father since his imprisonment in Azkaban?”
“I see. Ginerva Weasley was in the thick of the final battle when she was cornered by a certain Death Eater. After Miss Weasley disarmed him, the man surprised her with a physical attack, beating her with his bare fists until she was barely alive, when he was stopped by an Auror. Ginny woke up in the hospital wing a week later.” Dumbledore paused again, for the same reason as the time before. “That Death Eater was Lucius Malfoy.”
Malfoy’s eyes flashed in anger, but he said nothing, thinking furiously about how this had happened, when he had tried his absolute hardest not to get involved in the war, to stay neutral, and here it was again: his father’s actions being put back on him.
“So, what?” he asked challengingly. “So I’m going to go the same way as him, is that what you’re saying?”
Dumbledore saw the young man in front of him who was filled with so much anger and hate, and he felt pity, though he would never let Draco know.
“No, Draco, I am saying that—”
“And how do you know about yesterday by the lake?” Malfoy demanded. His blonde hair was tousled and messy from his earlier Quidditch tryouts and his posture was irritated.
“Mr. Malfoy. This is my school, and I know most of what goes on here,” Dumbledore said calmly, looking the agitated boy straight in the eyes. “What I was saying before is that Ginny thought you were your father yesterday. I informed you of the incident at the final battle, and what you choose to do with that information is your decision, but I suggest that you talk to Miss Weasley.”
Malfoy had been turning to leave, but he whipped around at these last words.
“Are you crazy?! She hates me. I hate her! She’s a Gryffindor, I’m a Slytherin, and she thinks I knocked her off her broom. She’s terrified of me because she thinks I’m my father! And you think that I should talk to her?!”
Dumbledore remained silent as Malfoy paced in tight circles in front of his desk.
Malfoy remembered where Ginny was: in the hospital wing, and it was his fault. “Yeah, well, I can’t talk to her if I’ve killed her, now can I?!”
“That is an excellent point, Mr. Malfoy,” Dumbledore said briskly, rising from his chair. “Let us go see how she is.”
“Actually, it’s getting late and—”
Dumbledore was out of the door before Malfoy could finish.
Ginny’s eyes shot open as her dream built to a terrifying climax. Her breathing slowed as she realized where she was. She tried to sit up, but her wrists and ankles were firmly secured to the bed to prevent Ginny from harming herself in the event of another seizure.
What happened? she thought anxiously. The last thing she remembered was…Malfoy hitting her in the face! That stupid git.
The doors to the hospital wing opened and Dumbledore entered, heading straight to Ginny.
“Professor Dumbledore!” Ginny said, relieved to see him there. “I’m tied up, can you—”
Ginny broke off as Draco Malfoy walked into the hospital wing.
Dumbledore appeared not to notice Ginny’s abrupt cutoff and waved his wand over her, releasing her limbs. Ginny sat up quickly.
“Why is he here?” she asked, hatred in her voice and face.
Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he turned to leave. “I hope you are well, Miss Weasley.”
Before Ginny could say anything, the headmaster was gone.
So she didn’t have to talk or look at Malfoy, Ginny grabbed the chart affixed to her bed and read it over.
“Congratulations, Malfoy,” she snarled, looking at him at last, “you broke my fucking jaw!”
“Well it’s healed now, isn’t it?” he retorted, smirking—there was no trace of the horrible guilt that had racked him earlier after he had first hit her.
Ginny threw a vase at him, the one that was previously resting on the bedside table. Malfoy ducked and it shattered on the floor behind him.
“Grow up, you little idiot,” he sneered, striding over to her, malice in his every movement.
“If you touch me again, I will hex you into oblivion,” Ginny warned him, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing shakily. She tried to meet him defiantly halfway across the room, but she tripped over an inconveniently placed book and went sprawling into his arms.
“Aww, Weasel, I didn’t know you felt that way about me,” Malfoy said, smirking as he caught her.
Ginny remained in his arms for a moment longer than necessary before she pushed away.
Malfoy remained where he was, staring at her.
“I don’t feel anything for you, Malfoy,” Ginny pronounced, an idea sparking into life, “except pity.”
Her words had the desired effect. “Pity?! I don’t need some bratty little blood traitor feeling sorry for me!” Malfoy looked more furious than Ginny had ever seen him. “Why the hell would you, anyway? I don’t live in a hovel with fifteen other piglets.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Find a new insult, Malfoy. That one’s getting old.”
“Then why?” he asked angrily.
“I feel pity for you because you are poor in one thing. Something that you can never buy,” said Ginny, now becoming quite serious.
“And that is?” Malfoy glared at her, his pale gray eyes gleaming in the dim lighting of the hospital wing.
“Oops, sorry, look at the time, got to go!”
And with that, Ginny ran from the hospital wing, inwardly laughing; she knew that Draco Malfoy would not be able to stand not knowing something.
“Weasley!” Malfoy’s voice echoed through the hallway as he followed her. Ginny ran hard and fast through the corridors and was almost to her common room when—
A heavy body rammed into hers, knocking Ginny flat onto the floor.
Draco Malfoy stood up and politely held his hand out to help Ginny up. She ignored his proffered hand and sprang to her feet, saying warningly, “Don’t even try being chivalrous.”
Malfoy grabbed her arm and pulled her into an empty classroom to the left, locking the door behind him.
Once inside, Ginny shrugged away from Malfoy’s grip and faced him, her arms crossed over her chest impatiently.
Draco was struck for a moment by how small she was. Her petite face and straight red hair made her look younger than she really was, though the curves of her body and the swell of her breasts betrayed that illusion. He let his eyes wander over Ginny’s body, telling himself that though she was a blood traitor, she was still a pureblood and therefore worthy of him if he wanted her.
But did he want her? That was the question…True, his father wouldn’t necessarily approve, but his father was in jail for the foreseeable future. And the Weasley girl was very attractive.
Draco was getting restless; he hadn’t had a girl in his bed in at least a month. Pansy Parkinson was now with Blaise Zabini and any other pureblood sixth or seventh year Slytherin girls were either with boyfriends or were lesbian. Granted, only one was a lesbian, but still…
Draco would never forget walking into the library to get a book on Advanced Potions and seeing Daphne Greengrass, a fellow seventh year Slytherin, snogging Marietta Edgecombe. And it was more than his life’s worth to go after another Slytherin’s girlfriend.
“Hey, Malfoy, like what you see?” Ginny asked mockingly, bringing Draco back to the present.
Weasley had obviously seen him staring. The only problem would be getting her to trust him, especially after what had happened in the final battle with his father, not to mention their relationship for the six years they had known each other.
Draco had been cruel to Ginny mainly because of who her brother was, and he could use that to justify his interest in her. But he would have to proceed with this very carefully… very carefully. A smirk played upon Draco’s lips—he would have Ginny Weasley.
“Not unless you’re a mirror,” he quipped, his eyes saying different as they lingered on her breasts a moment longer than necessary.
While Ginny was thrown off guard by his response, Draco asked her, his voice quite neutral, “So, what am I lacking that cannot be bought?”
Ginny shook her head, her eyes narrowed. “What was that for?” she asked suspiciously.
“What was what for?”
“Don’t play dumb, Malfoy, you know what I’m talking about!”
Malfoy smirked again, his gray eyes fixed on her. “I know what my father did to you,” he said, throwing out another piece of information designed to distract and disturb her.
Ginny’s face turned red, though not with embarrassment, and she replied heatedly, “Really? And I suppose you’re feeling quite proud of Daddy now, aren’t you?” She stepped quite close to him and spoke right to his face, though it was above her. “Your father is nothing but a cowardly dirt bag who deserves every bit of time in Azkaban that he got. He’s not powerful, he’s not clever, and he certainly did not get the better of me through honest combat.”
Draco saw her upturned face as she glared at him and didn’t even think about it: he leaned down and kissed her. It was a soft, almost chaste kiss on the lips and when Draco pulled back, he realized that he hadn’t meant to do that.
His mind reeling, he tried to rationalize why he had done it… it wasn’t part of the plan.
As Ginny stared up at him in horror, Draco realized that she hadn’t pulled away—or slapped him, for that matter.
“So what is it, Weasley?” Draco asked her softly. “What is it that I don’t possess that you pity me for?”
Ginny could see that he was serious; there was no sign of his customary smirk or sneer on Draco’s face as he looked down upon her. But why had he kissed her?
“Uh…” Her brain refused to function properly and Ginny tried to remember what he was talking about. “Love!” she gasped out, finally recalling her original plan…and wow, had that plan been shot to hell.
“Love?” repeated Draco.
“You can’t buy love, Malfoy. And contrary to what you think, sex is not love.”
“Hey!” Malfoy defended. “I’m loved.”
Ginny walked away without another word, leaving Draco behind in the room.
“I am loved,” he whispered into thin air.
Ginny fell asleep uneasily that night, and instead of her normal nightmare of Lucius Malfoy, she dreamed of kissing his son.
Please review; I know there aren't as many Draco/Ginny shippers as there are for Dramione, but I really wanted to try this story out. Thanks!
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