A/N: Italics flashback
Standard fanfic disclaimer applies
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 3: Old Wounds
Groggily, she stumbled out of her bedroom. Her head was spinning like crazy, and her limbs felt heavy and watery. Ginny felt like she was under the effects of a sleeping potion that hadn't worn off yet. But that was impossible, because when she checked her watch, it showed to her shock and amazement, that she'd been asleep for over thirty-six hours.
And now, it was late afternoon. The sun, taking on that blinding brightness as it prepares to set, filled the hallway and made her gasp at the pain its brightness sent ricocheting from her head to her eyes and back again. Ginny felt weak and feverish, as she slowly walked the five feet to between her bedroom and her kitchen, desperate for a glass of water, hoping it would help wake her up and clear her head of the confusion that was muddling it.
Her windowless kitchen was much less bright, and she sighed in relief as she entered it. She made her way to the cupboard, taking out a glass as she walked over to the fridge. The few moments gave her enough time to become more awake and aware of her surroundings, shrugging off most of her fatigue. She was about to open the door to the refrigerator when her eyes caught something that made her freeze.
The file. She'd left it on the kitchen table last night. She dropped the glass, barely hearing the sound as it shattered on the floor. Dashing to the table she swiped the other papers out of her way as she searched desperately for it. Stray papers from her notes fluttered to the floor, but she didn't take notice. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest, and her head was spinning with the overwhelming panic that consumed her. It wasn't there.
Everything was swiped from the table with a cry of anger, before she collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, her head in her hands. It had been her one hope, the only key in unlocking the mystery that had been surrounding her life for over a year. Now it was gone, because she'd been stupid enough to leave it on the kitchen table. A choking wave of panic overcame her, as she stood up, and began searching recklessly through the papers that had scattered to the floor, hoping she'd knocked it down in her desperation. The weak, feverish feeling returned, making it a struggle to continue moving.
She was so caught up in the search that she didn't hear the footsteps as he entered the room. She didn't note his presence as she sorted through scattered paper. When he placed his hand on her shoulder, she was completely caught of guard. Choking out a scream, she jumped up blindly, her vision blurring as panic overwhelmed her. She grabbed the edge of a kitchen chair, as she dashed away from the intruder. She threw it back, putting distance between her and whoever had entered the room. She stepped on broken glass, hardly noticing as it bit into the tender flesh of her toes. An arm grabbed her shoulder, and before she could react, before she could even scream, her vision faded to black and she collapsed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Draco!" she exclaimed, relief flooding her so completely that her knees grew a little weak at the sight of him. It was hard for her to believe it was true, that he was really there, standing in front of her. She held her wand up, to illuminate the chamber better, so she could reassure herself that she was really seeing him, that he really was there, and it wasn't just shadows and her own greatest hope deceiving her eyes.
"You figured it out, Ginny. I knew you would," he said, coming towards her. She was dying, trying to keep herself from dashing forwards, from throwing herself in his arms. Strange, there was something about his voice, about the way he had spoken, that signalled to her that something was gravely wrong. There was a dimness in his eyes that seemed to reflect a kind of weary, inescapable sadness. She wondered where he'd been, what he had seen that would affect him so, and she was slightly hurt that he didn't seem in the least glad to see her.
"Of course we figured it out. Did you expect me to let you run off and have all the fun? Or, rather, did you expect me to let you run off, without a word to anyone?" she said, stung by his coolness. Where had he been, why was he acting like she was the last person he wanted to see?
"Hoped rather than expected, actually," he said. He was standing in front of her now, only a few feet away. Ginny was struck by the difference in him - he looked just the same, but there was something in his demeanour, a weight on his shoulders, that made him seem much older than he should.
"Well, are you alright? I haven't heard from you in weeks, and I find you here, in an secret chamber hidden beneath an abbey in Italy!" Ginny cried, her voice shrill.
"Who told you the sword would be found here?" Draco demanded, his voice harsh. Ginny was taken aback.
"It doesn't matter, Draco, we were too late. The sword is gone, didn't you see the stone?" she asked, gesturing towards the inscribed boulder placed majestically at the centre of the underground chamber.
"Who told you to come here?" Draco demanded, with perfectly cold and calculated rage, making Ginny back away from him.
"No one did. I came because of you...and the sword, of course. But it doesn't matter, we were too late, it's already gone," she said, gesturing towards the large stone in the centre of the chamber. "I don't want to even think about who got their hands on it. Such a powerful weapon, with the type of magic they could wield with it, it's rather disturbing to think about."
"That's if it fell into the wrong hands," he said. Ginny detected a triumphant gleam in his eyes. She stared at him, her eyes narrowing, as she sensed that he knew something she did not. Her eyes caught something silvery catching the light of her wand, leaning against the stonewall beside where Draco stood. She looked back to him, her eyes wide with surprise and awe.
"You got to it first!" she cried out, dashing forward. Kneeling in the damp dust of the stone floor, she held her wand out to see the object before her. To anyone who wouldn't know any better, it would seem as though it were a typical knight's sword - the standard cruciform design, the ornate pommel designed to resemble a Celtic cross and a standard scabbard.
However as Ginny looked closer, her heart began to pound in her chest as she recognized that it was too long to be a typical sword, and the shining gleam of the metal, which should have been substantially marred by centuries half-encased in a large stone and hidden in an underground chamber beneath an abbey in Tuscany.
"Of course I got to it first. Malfoys are world renown for their cleverness and deductive reasoning...of course, most of us are too clever for our own good, or too clever too late," Draco said wryly.
"It's remarkably intact! And it's in its scabbard! But wasn't that lost or destroyed?" Ginny asked, as she reached out her fingers to touch it, full of a reverent awe that she could be about to touch one of the most famous swords in wizarding history, and an incredibly power object that could change the fate of the world.
Before her fingers could make contact with it, it was pulled out of her reach. She jumped up; Draco was standing before her, holding the sword, almost protectively, away from her. With his height looming over her, dressed in black as he usually was, his face half-obscured by the dim light, and holding that sword with the authority of ownership, Ginny's breath caught in her throat at the aura of power that surrounded him.
"You shouldn't touch it. It didn't say anything in the documents about how it reacts to other people touching it, after it's been claimed by a new owner," Draco explained. Ginny paused.
"And are you it's new owner?" she asked, carefully, unwilling to let her mind fully digest the implications if he were. Draco sighed heavily; it was a sound full of resignation. He looked at her, making direct contact with her eyes, as he unsheathed the sword, tossing the scabbard away carelessly, and holding out the blade for her to see.
"It would appear so," he said, with reluctance. A small knot of fear began to form in Ginny's stomach, a cold feeling that was attempting to creep through the rest of her body. She stepped towards him, trying to see his face better in the sparse light; there was something very wrong, and it seemed to centre on him.
"Oh, Ginny, why did you have to come here?" he asked softly, his head hanging, the arm holding the sword falling to his side. There was a weary sort of resignation in his voice, as if he'd resigned himself to whatever may follow, unable to fight it. She assumed he was worried about all the numerous amounts of wards in the chamber - he'd said that there were over four hundred and eighty four, and if he'd been unable to escape the circle yet, he probably (given typical Malfoy arrogance) assumed that no one else would be able to. She smiled, stepping closer, placing her hand against his cheek.
"I suffer from this unfortunate affliction that makes it impossible for me to live without you. And since they haven't found a cure for it yet, I'm afraid I had no other choice but to find you," she said softly. His eyes seemed to glow with an emotion she couldn't place, and his hand reached out, guiding her face to his as he kissed her with a fierce passion that startled her. Unable to resist, especially after going so long without his touch, her body melted against his. She wanted to cling to him as tightly as she could until he promised he'd never go away again, but her pride wouldn't allow it.
He seemed to know what she wanted, for he broke away, but wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could. He buried his face against her neck, and she could feel his hot breath, which seemed to be coming in gasps, against her skin. There was a desperation in his lingering embrace that made it all seem so bittersweet, but Ginny wasn't about to complain. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat, and allowed herself to be filled with the sense of safety that she could only find with him.
"Why did you have to come?" he murmured against her neck. Ginny froze as she detected the desperation in his voice. She pulled away and meeting his eyes, shining liquid grey in the light, seeing the almost-pleading expression on his face, she began to back away. He raised the sword he was still clutching, and Ginny's attention turned to it, as it shone magnificently, as if it caught all of the sparse light in the chamber and reflected it back, magnifying it a hundred times over. It blinded her.
She heard a cry - of rage? She wasn't sure, because before she could locate either its nature or its source, a fiery trail of pain exploded across her body, from the bottom of her ribcage to her hip. She could hear screaming around her, as she stumbled forward, shock and pain clouding her thoughts. Ginny touched her side, and saw with eyes still blinded by the bright light, a dark substance covering them. With a detached realization, she knew that she was bleeding, and her head began to feel light as the pain burned to an unbearable degree.
A pair of arms caught her as she fell, lowering her to the floor. She could feel the cold hard stone beneath her. She was gasping, unable to control her breathing, fighting the feeling that her lungs were filled with water, that she couldn't draw enough air. Her vision was clouding over, she could barely see. Her hands were shaking, as she held them up to her face, to see if the blood was still on her hands.
She felt a presence leaning over her. Through her distorted vision, she could see Draco kneeling beside her, leaning against the blood covered sword. He held out his hand, over her body, and he was saying something, but the world was slipping away from her, and she couldn't hear him. His hand moved towards her head, and through her wavering vision, she saw it was covered with blood. As it came to rest against her forehead, the pain flared throughout her body, and her vision faded away completely.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was being carried; she could feel the motion of the person carrying her and their arms around her. Coming slowly to awareness, she opened her eyes, blinking in an effort to focus them. A pair of grey eyes was looking down on her, as she felt herself sink down against something soft.
"Draco?" she murmured, and started when the soft eyes looking at her suddenly became cold, and the arms that were around her pulled away. Reality came crashing back to her, and she pushed herself up, trying to get a sense of where she was.
She was on her couch. In her flat. The person now sitting on her coffee table, across from her, and glowering at her with must have been an inherited expression, given the number of times she'd seen in on Draco's face, was Darien.
"What happened?" she asked, as her senses slowly woke up, and she felt stinging pain in her foot, and an ache in her head.
"I came into the kitchen. You were in the middle of freaking out about something, and I caught you off guard. You threw your chair at me, and then collapsed," Darien said, his tone of voice neutral. She struggled with her memory, trying to recall what had happened. Then she gasped, and was about to stand up and dash into the kitchen before Darien pushed her back onto the couch, this time sitting beside her, trapping her there.
"You stepped on broken glass," he said, and she looked down to her toes, and was surprised to see them smeared with blood.
"My file! It was gone! I left it on the table, and when I woke up, it was gone!" she cried out, trying to make him feel her desperation, as she struggled against him, determined to get to her kitchen and find that file.
"Ginny, it's alright. It's right here," he said, his voice soothing. He held up the familiar file folder, and she relaxed as a flood of relief filled her, and she released a great sigh that expelled her panic.
"But why is it in here?" she asked, suspiciously.
"I was reading it over. I came in when you were still asleep. I figured you'd be awake before long, so I stuck around. Ginny, does Harry know you have this?" he asked, his voice full of worry. She brushed off his question as a wave of irritation washed over her.
"Darien, we need to discuss your new habit of flagrantly violating my privacy," Ginny said, pushing his hands away determinedly as she sat up. "You're a good friend, and I trust you, but you can't keep showing up at my flat at all hours, coming in uninvited and going through my things. There is a limit, you know."
"I have an obligation to ensure that you are safe. And I'm not just talking about your physical safety, Ginny. You're beginning to seem a little paranoid."
"I am fine! All of you - my brothers, Hermione, Harry, everyone, needs to stop worrying about me. You're suffocating me with your concern, which is hardly health!" she declared defiantly. Darien glared at her coldly, and then held up her file as if to prove a point. Not appreciating the look in his eyes, she snatched it out of his hands, and clutched it to her. He shook his head.
"Are you so sure that it's wise to reopen old wounds, Ginny? I'm afraid this is just going to bring back bad memories, and set you in a fine state of paranoia and obsessive-ness that you'll never be able to get over what happened," he said, his voice low and grave.
Ginny jumped up, ignoring the slight stabs of pain in her feet. Glaring at him, she pulled the edge of her shirt up, revealing her stomach. Darien's eyes flickered to the vicious line of scar tissue that marred the otherwise porcelain skin, and looked away.
"They may be old wounds, Darien, but they're still there. Maybe if I understand why I got them in the first place, it'll help me to forget that they're there," she spat out, tears of frustration burning her eyes. Darien looked up at her, his familiar eyes full of pain. They were too familiar for comfort.
She turned, and without saying another word to him, walked back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: I don’t even want to have to tell you all what I went through to get this chapter written, after it was deleted TWICE by my own stupidity.
And because of that stupidity, I’m going to be posting fic-bits and cookies from future chapters on my LiveJournal as I write (so if I’m stupid again, I won’t lose everything and have to start from scratch. AGAIN), so feel free to check out my LJ (http://www.livejournal.com/~hope_fuleigh). There’s also an entry that inadvertently contains some information as to one of the sources of inspiration for a small part of this plot, for those who don’t like my maddening tendency to draw everything out to keep you confused and in the dark.
Standard fanfic disclaimer applies
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 3: Old Wounds
Groggily, she stumbled out of her bedroom. Her head was spinning like crazy, and her limbs felt heavy and watery. Ginny felt like she was under the effects of a sleeping potion that hadn't worn off yet. But that was impossible, because when she checked her watch, it showed to her shock and amazement, that she'd been asleep for over thirty-six hours.
And now, it was late afternoon. The sun, taking on that blinding brightness as it prepares to set, filled the hallway and made her gasp at the pain its brightness sent ricocheting from her head to her eyes and back again. Ginny felt weak and feverish, as she slowly walked the five feet to between her bedroom and her kitchen, desperate for a glass of water, hoping it would help wake her up and clear her head of the confusion that was muddling it.
Her windowless kitchen was much less bright, and she sighed in relief as she entered it. She made her way to the cupboard, taking out a glass as she walked over to the fridge. The few moments gave her enough time to become more awake and aware of her surroundings, shrugging off most of her fatigue. She was about to open the door to the refrigerator when her eyes caught something that made her freeze.
The file. She'd left it on the kitchen table last night. She dropped the glass, barely hearing the sound as it shattered on the floor. Dashing to the table she swiped the other papers out of her way as she searched desperately for it. Stray papers from her notes fluttered to the floor, but she didn't take notice. Her heart was pounding painfully in her chest, and her head was spinning with the overwhelming panic that consumed her. It wasn't there.
Everything was swiped from the table with a cry of anger, before she collapsed into one of the kitchen chairs, her head in her hands. It had been her one hope, the only key in unlocking the mystery that had been surrounding her life for over a year. Now it was gone, because she'd been stupid enough to leave it on the kitchen table. A choking wave of panic overcame her, as she stood up, and began searching recklessly through the papers that had scattered to the floor, hoping she'd knocked it down in her desperation. The weak, feverish feeling returned, making it a struggle to continue moving.
She was so caught up in the search that she didn't hear the footsteps as he entered the room. She didn't note his presence as she sorted through scattered paper. When he placed his hand on her shoulder, she was completely caught of guard. Choking out a scream, she jumped up blindly, her vision blurring as panic overwhelmed her. She grabbed the edge of a kitchen chair, as she dashed away from the intruder. She threw it back, putting distance between her and whoever had entered the room. She stepped on broken glass, hardly noticing as it bit into the tender flesh of her toes. An arm grabbed her shoulder, and before she could react, before she could even scream, her vision faded to black and she collapsed.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Draco!" she exclaimed, relief flooding her so completely that her knees grew a little weak at the sight of him. It was hard for her to believe it was true, that he was really there, standing in front of her. She held her wand up, to illuminate the chamber better, so she could reassure herself that she was really seeing him, that he really was there, and it wasn't just shadows and her own greatest hope deceiving her eyes.
"You figured it out, Ginny. I knew you would," he said, coming towards her. She was dying, trying to keep herself from dashing forwards, from throwing herself in his arms. Strange, there was something about his voice, about the way he had spoken, that signalled to her that something was gravely wrong. There was a dimness in his eyes that seemed to reflect a kind of weary, inescapable sadness. She wondered where he'd been, what he had seen that would affect him so, and she was slightly hurt that he didn't seem in the least glad to see her.
"Of course we figured it out. Did you expect me to let you run off and have all the fun? Or, rather, did you expect me to let you run off, without a word to anyone?" she said, stung by his coolness. Where had he been, why was he acting like she was the last person he wanted to see?
"Hoped rather than expected, actually," he said. He was standing in front of her now, only a few feet away. Ginny was struck by the difference in him - he looked just the same, but there was something in his demeanour, a weight on his shoulders, that made him seem much older than he should.
"Well, are you alright? I haven't heard from you in weeks, and I find you here, in an secret chamber hidden beneath an abbey in Italy!" Ginny cried, her voice shrill.
"Who told you the sword would be found here?" Draco demanded, his voice harsh. Ginny was taken aback.
"It doesn't matter, Draco, we were too late. The sword is gone, didn't you see the stone?" she asked, gesturing towards the inscribed boulder placed majestically at the centre of the underground chamber.
"Who told you to come here?" Draco demanded, with perfectly cold and calculated rage, making Ginny back away from him.
"No one did. I came because of you...and the sword, of course. But it doesn't matter, we were too late, it's already gone," she said, gesturing towards the large stone in the centre of the chamber. "I don't want to even think about who got their hands on it. Such a powerful weapon, with the type of magic they could wield with it, it's rather disturbing to think about."
"That's if it fell into the wrong hands," he said. Ginny detected a triumphant gleam in his eyes. She stared at him, her eyes narrowing, as she sensed that he knew something she did not. Her eyes caught something silvery catching the light of her wand, leaning against the stonewall beside where Draco stood. She looked back to him, her eyes wide with surprise and awe.
"You got to it first!" she cried out, dashing forward. Kneeling in the damp dust of the stone floor, she held her wand out to see the object before her. To anyone who wouldn't know any better, it would seem as though it were a typical knight's sword - the standard cruciform design, the ornate pommel designed to resemble a Celtic cross and a standard scabbard.
However as Ginny looked closer, her heart began to pound in her chest as she recognized that it was too long to be a typical sword, and the shining gleam of the metal, which should have been substantially marred by centuries half-encased in a large stone and hidden in an underground chamber beneath an abbey in Tuscany.
"Of course I got to it first. Malfoys are world renown for their cleverness and deductive reasoning...of course, most of us are too clever for our own good, or too clever too late," Draco said wryly.
"It's remarkably intact! And it's in its scabbard! But wasn't that lost or destroyed?" Ginny asked, as she reached out her fingers to touch it, full of a reverent awe that she could be about to touch one of the most famous swords in wizarding history, and an incredibly power object that could change the fate of the world.
Before her fingers could make contact with it, it was pulled out of her reach. She jumped up; Draco was standing before her, holding the sword, almost protectively, away from her. With his height looming over her, dressed in black as he usually was, his face half-obscured by the dim light, and holding that sword with the authority of ownership, Ginny's breath caught in her throat at the aura of power that surrounded him.
"You shouldn't touch it. It didn't say anything in the documents about how it reacts to other people touching it, after it's been claimed by a new owner," Draco explained. Ginny paused.
"And are you it's new owner?" she asked, carefully, unwilling to let her mind fully digest the implications if he were. Draco sighed heavily; it was a sound full of resignation. He looked at her, making direct contact with her eyes, as he unsheathed the sword, tossing the scabbard away carelessly, and holding out the blade for her to see.
"It would appear so," he said, with reluctance. A small knot of fear began to form in Ginny's stomach, a cold feeling that was attempting to creep through the rest of her body. She stepped towards him, trying to see his face better in the sparse light; there was something very wrong, and it seemed to centre on him.
"Oh, Ginny, why did you have to come here?" he asked softly, his head hanging, the arm holding the sword falling to his side. There was a weary sort of resignation in his voice, as if he'd resigned himself to whatever may follow, unable to fight it. She assumed he was worried about all the numerous amounts of wards in the chamber - he'd said that there were over four hundred and eighty four, and if he'd been unable to escape the circle yet, he probably (given typical Malfoy arrogance) assumed that no one else would be able to. She smiled, stepping closer, placing her hand against his cheek.
"I suffer from this unfortunate affliction that makes it impossible for me to live without you. And since they haven't found a cure for it yet, I'm afraid I had no other choice but to find you," she said softly. His eyes seemed to glow with an emotion she couldn't place, and his hand reached out, guiding her face to his as he kissed her with a fierce passion that startled her. Unable to resist, especially after going so long without his touch, her body melted against his. She wanted to cling to him as tightly as she could until he promised he'd never go away again, but her pride wouldn't allow it.
He seemed to know what she wanted, for he broke away, but wrapped his arms around her, pulling her as close as he could. He buried his face against her neck, and she could feel his hot breath, which seemed to be coming in gasps, against her skin. There was a desperation in his lingering embrace that made it all seem so bittersweet, but Ginny wasn't about to complain. She rested her head against his chest, listening to the thundering of his heartbeat, and allowed herself to be filled with the sense of safety that she could only find with him.
"Why did you have to come?" he murmured against her neck. Ginny froze as she detected the desperation in his voice. She pulled away and meeting his eyes, shining liquid grey in the light, seeing the almost-pleading expression on his face, she began to back away. He raised the sword he was still clutching, and Ginny's attention turned to it, as it shone magnificently, as if it caught all of the sparse light in the chamber and reflected it back, magnifying it a hundred times over. It blinded her.
She heard a cry - of rage? She wasn't sure, because before she could locate either its nature or its source, a fiery trail of pain exploded across her body, from the bottom of her ribcage to her hip. She could hear screaming around her, as she stumbled forward, shock and pain clouding her thoughts. Ginny touched her side, and saw with eyes still blinded by the bright light, a dark substance covering them. With a detached realization, she knew that she was bleeding, and her head began to feel light as the pain burned to an unbearable degree.
A pair of arms caught her as she fell, lowering her to the floor. She could feel the cold hard stone beneath her. She was gasping, unable to control her breathing, fighting the feeling that her lungs were filled with water, that she couldn't draw enough air. Her vision was clouding over, she could barely see. Her hands were shaking, as she held them up to her face, to see if the blood was still on her hands.
She felt a presence leaning over her. Through her distorted vision, she could see Draco kneeling beside her, leaning against the blood covered sword. He held out his hand, over her body, and he was saying something, but the world was slipping away from her, and she couldn't hear him. His hand moved towards her head, and through her wavering vision, she saw it was covered with blood. As it came to rest against her forehead, the pain flared throughout her body, and her vision faded away completely.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
She was being carried; she could feel the motion of the person carrying her and their arms around her. Coming slowly to awareness, she opened her eyes, blinking in an effort to focus them. A pair of grey eyes was looking down on her, as she felt herself sink down against something soft.
"Draco?" she murmured, and started when the soft eyes looking at her suddenly became cold, and the arms that were around her pulled away. Reality came crashing back to her, and she pushed herself up, trying to get a sense of where she was.
She was on her couch. In her flat. The person now sitting on her coffee table, across from her, and glowering at her with must have been an inherited expression, given the number of times she'd seen in on Draco's face, was Darien.
"What happened?" she asked, as her senses slowly woke up, and she felt stinging pain in her foot, and an ache in her head.
"I came into the kitchen. You were in the middle of freaking out about something, and I caught you off guard. You threw your chair at me, and then collapsed," Darien said, his tone of voice neutral. She struggled with her memory, trying to recall what had happened. Then she gasped, and was about to stand up and dash into the kitchen before Darien pushed her back onto the couch, this time sitting beside her, trapping her there.
"You stepped on broken glass," he said, and she looked down to her toes, and was surprised to see them smeared with blood.
"My file! It was gone! I left it on the table, and when I woke up, it was gone!" she cried out, trying to make him feel her desperation, as she struggled against him, determined to get to her kitchen and find that file.
"Ginny, it's alright. It's right here," he said, his voice soothing. He held up the familiar file folder, and she relaxed as a flood of relief filled her, and she released a great sigh that expelled her panic.
"But why is it in here?" she asked, suspiciously.
"I was reading it over. I came in when you were still asleep. I figured you'd be awake before long, so I stuck around. Ginny, does Harry know you have this?" he asked, his voice full of worry. She brushed off his question as a wave of irritation washed over her.
"Darien, we need to discuss your new habit of flagrantly violating my privacy," Ginny said, pushing his hands away determinedly as she sat up. "You're a good friend, and I trust you, but you can't keep showing up at my flat at all hours, coming in uninvited and going through my things. There is a limit, you know."
"I have an obligation to ensure that you are safe. And I'm not just talking about your physical safety, Ginny. You're beginning to seem a little paranoid."
"I am fine! All of you - my brothers, Hermione, Harry, everyone, needs to stop worrying about me. You're suffocating me with your concern, which is hardly health!" she declared defiantly. Darien glared at her coldly, and then held up her file as if to prove a point. Not appreciating the look in his eyes, she snatched it out of his hands, and clutched it to her. He shook his head.
"Are you so sure that it's wise to reopen old wounds, Ginny? I'm afraid this is just going to bring back bad memories, and set you in a fine state of paranoia and obsessive-ness that you'll never be able to get over what happened," he said, his voice low and grave.
Ginny jumped up, ignoring the slight stabs of pain in her feet. Glaring at him, she pulled the edge of her shirt up, revealing her stomach. Darien's eyes flickered to the vicious line of scar tissue that marred the otherwise porcelain skin, and looked away.
"They may be old wounds, Darien, but they're still there. Maybe if I understand why I got them in the first place, it'll help me to forget that they're there," she spat out, tears of frustration burning her eyes. Darien looked up at her, his familiar eyes full of pain. They were too familiar for comfort.
She turned, and without saying another word to him, walked back to her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A/N: I don’t even want to have to tell you all what I went through to get this chapter written, after it was deleted TWICE by my own stupidity.
And because of that stupidity, I’m going to be posting fic-bits and cookies from future chapters on my LiveJournal as I write (so if I’m stupid again, I won’t lose everything and have to start from scratch. AGAIN), so feel free to check out my LJ (http://www.livejournal.com/~hope_fuleigh). There’s also an entry that inadvertently contains some information as to one of the sources of inspiration for a small part of this plot, for those who don’t like my maddening tendency to draw everything out to keep you confused and in the dark.
Leave a Review