Title: A Matter of Identity
Author: ragdollangel
Categories: Humor, Romance
Disclaimer: They aren't mine (I wish they were). All hail JKR.
Feedback: I love reviews… almost as much as I love Draco ::sighs::
Date Posted: 29th April, 2005

[Author’s Note] Ha. I can’t seem to stop posting =) But this story is officially completed, and I’ll post the last two chapters tomorrow…



Point of No Return


“Do you know what Ron would say if he knew?” asked Hermione. “Draco Malfoy starting to care for his little sister?”
She paused and shook her head in disbelief.
“I should have seen it coming. I can’t believe this.”

“What do we do now?” asked Harry. “Two weeks are almost up, and nothing seems to be happening. She just can’t keep meeting Malfoy like this. Can’t you say something to her?”

Hermione sighed. “It won’t help, Harry. And you know that.”
She buried her face in her hands.
“I’m just so tired. These days I’m always tired.”

“I know,” said Harry, putting an arm around her.
“But it’ll be over soon.”

---

“So how much longer do you think this will go on for?” Ron asked Ally. They were sitting on the steps and munching on his collection of assorted sweets.

“Dunno,” mumbled Ally, her mouth full.

“She spends way too much time with that ferret,” Ron grimaced as he chewed on a particularly hard piece of toffee. “It isn’t good for her health.”

“He isn’t really all that bad,” said Ally.

“Not you too!” cried Ron in disbelief. “Why is everyone suddenly sticking up for Malfoy?”

“Well, he is rather sweet to her,” said Ally rummaging through the paper bag.

Sweet?” Ron gasped. “Malfoys aren’t sweet—they’re poisonous.”

He took the bag from her and emptied it onto his lap. He shook it several times, covering his knees with a layer of powdered sugar.
“Sweet,” he muttered to himself. “She says he’s sweet.”

“Oh, shut up,” frowned Ally. “Do you have anything else to eat?”

---

Later that evening when Hermione was helping Ginny get dressed for her walk, she noticed that she was unusually quiet.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Yes,” replied Ginny slowly.

Hermione waited.

‘I don’t know how to say this,” Ginny said finally, “but I think I may have developed strong feelings for Lord James.”

“What do you mean?” asked Hermione sharply.

“I think that I might be in love.”

Hermione turned Ginny around to face her.
“You are not in love.”

“I believe that I am,” replied Ginny evenly.

“No you are not,” said Hermione, struggling to keep her voice calm.
“Trust me on this. You are in love with someone who isn’t real, and you deserve better.”

“How dare you speak of Lord James in that manner?” asked Ginny angrily. “He is a gentleman and a fine match for me.”
She looked at Hermione sullenly.
“And he is the only person here who actually cares about me.”

“Stop it,” sighed Hermione, “I’m just so tired. You are a spoilt brat and don’t have any consideration for anyone except yourself. Do you think this is easy for me? I never wanted to be anyone’s mother.”

She stopped and took a deep breath.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she said finally, and left the room.

Ginny stood there alone, too numb to speak.

---

Draco knew there was something wrong even before she spoke. Her face was pale, and her hair fell around her face in wisps.
He tried cheering her up, but all she could manage was a faint smile.

“Can we sit here for a while?” she asked quietly.

He nodded and they sat down, leaning against the tree trunk. She bit her lip and played with a blade of grass. A light drizzle of rain started to fall.

“What happened?” asked Draco gently.

“My mother and I had a disagreement again,” said Ginny in a small voice, “And it hurts me deeply.”

“And it is not just that,” she continued softly, “Last night I had a dream that left me very unsettled.”

She looked at Draco with troubled eyes.
“I dreamt that I was not who I am today. I dreamt that I was one of the common folk. I saw a woman, and many children—and in my dream I was one of those children.”

She paused miserably.
“What troubled me the most, was that I seemed to recognize her. I do not understand all of this.”

Draco tried to think of something to say, but all he could think of was that they were coming to the end of this, and he didn’t want to let her go.

“I am sorry I cannot be of more help,” he said.

She looked at him.
“I feel better when I speak with you,” she said simply.

He looked down at her, and brushed a strand of hair off her cheek.
“So do I,” he said quietly.

“Sometimes I feel so lonely,” she whispered, “My mother—she doesn’t really know me, and I do not have many people to talk to. They all think that I do not care, that I am cold as ice.”

“I know,” he said gently, drawing her closer to him. “I understand more than you could ever imagine.”

He looked down at her trusting face, only inches away from his. The sunlight flitted on her hair, and he caught the faintest whiff of rain.

For a minute he almost told her. He knew, after all, that she was bound to find out soon.

Maybe he stopped thinking rationally, maybe he just didn’t care… Whatever it was, he didn’t tell her. He didn’t tell her that this was all a lie, that in real life she was in a completely different world from his, that he was nowhere as noble as she thought he was.

That in real life he would never have fallen in love with her.

Instead he pulled her towards him, feeling her hair against his face, her breath against his cheek, her lips against his. Her kiss tasted exactly like he’d imagined it: raspberries and smoky roses. He held her close to him, willing himself not to think of anything else.

For a while that seemed enough.


---x---x---
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