Draco nodded. He didn't know what else to do, so he turned to go. But stopped dead in his tracks as he whirled around to face Harry. Harry, who had looked a little under the weather, stared at him with narrowed eyes.
“Why do I feel like every time I turn around, you're there?” he asked. “Oh, that's right. Because you bloody are. What do you want?”
Draco smirked and placed a hand on his heart. “Potter, as much as I'd love to hear that you are thinking about me, now's not the time.” His face set into a scowl. “I want to know why you've made Pansy think my girlfriend was threatening her.”
“Me?” Harry said. “I was the one who saw the letter and showed it to her. Why would I write it?”
Draco blinked, rubbed his eyes and said, “I don't understand any of this, I really don't. I do not think that Ginny wrote Pansy any letter.”
“I don't either,” said Pansy from behind him. “I don't know what's going on, but I don't think your little Weaslette would do that, even to me. She's moved on, Harry.” She looked at her boyfriend, frowning. “And I don't remember ever telling you she was the one who wrote me that letter.”
“Could I see the letter?” Draco asked.
“Come on in,” Pansy said, stepping aside. “Would you like some tea?”
Draco smiled but shook his head. Her offering made him think about Ginny, and wondered what she was doing now, if she had noticed his absence. Something in his chest tightened slightly and he realized what it was: he missed her.
“Draco?” Pansy said. “It's late. Are you sure you don't want to do this tomorrow? You can come back.”
“No, I'd like to do it now. I'm wide awake anyway,” he replied, looking around at the small flat. It reminded him of his own, in a way.
Pansy had disappeared and come back with a piece of parchment in her hands. She surveyed Draco with a hard gaze before thrusting the paper into his hands. “Here. It's pretty terrible, what's written, and I really didn't think she did this. It's not like her, no matter what happened. Good luck figuring it out.”
Harry was standing in the doorway still, Draco observed, and when he entered they didn't speak to each other. He retreated to the kitchen and left them alone. Draco preferred it that way. He glanced at Pansy before he started to read the letter.
It was full of bitterness, anger, and betrayal. There were a lot of colorful words too. Words Ginny barely used in her daily life. So, after short consideration, Draco handed the paper back to Pansy.
“Ginny didn't write this,” he told her. “Don't you remember? You watched her write a dozen times in school. I mean, she even wrote you a letter, trying to befriend you.”
“Oh yeah.” Pansy snorted with laughter. “What was she thinking?”
“She didn't know better,” Draco found himself saying. “But anyway this writing isn't hers. But I have an idea of whose it is.”
“You do?” she asked. “Well, then, who is it?”
“You don't recognize it?” he asked. “That's hard to believe, even for you. You're not that thick, Pans. Think about it and Floo me when you know.”
He was headed to the door when she suddenly gasped from behind him.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “It couldn't be.” She looked at Draco. “She didn't write this, did she? Tell me we're wrong.”
Draco would have loved to. But he didn't say anything. He just left. He returned to Ginny, who still slumbered in front of the now dying fire. As he lay down, put an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, he thought about the first time he'd seen her since Hogwarts.
He had been walking along the streets of London, looking at all the shops, debating going into any of them. He hesitated; he had somewhere to be. With his mother. It was their annual nightly dinner, which he was neglecting lately for no reason in particular.
As he was passing by one of the shops, he happened to look inside. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of someone he hadn't seen in years – he still looked the same, with his unruly black hair and emerald eyes. Most notably was the scar on his forehead.
Harry Potter was standing there, laughing and holding a large basket, when a girl emerged and he leaned down to kiss her softly. She smirked at him and Draco recognized her immediately, from her red hair to the soft freckles that were dusted across her nose.
Of course he couldn't see those from where he stood, but he had been close enough to Ginny Weasley at one point in time. As he watched them, he took in just how much she had changed.
She was beautiful, he couldn't deny that.
He was so engrossed in watching her, that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him. But he felt the hand on his shoulder, and the soft voice in his ear.
“Admiring the view?”
Draco turned to see Pansy standing behind him, smirking. And she had Daphne with her. He sighed and ran a hand down his face.
“What can I do for you, ladies?” he asked, smirking.
“We're just passing through,” Pansy replied. “Are you on your way to your mother's?”
He nodded. “I may skip it this time.”
Pansy sighed. “Again? Draco, if you do that, Narcissa will write to me and demand that I drag you to Malfoy Manor. Honestly, she just wants to spend time with you. Is that so bad?”
“Well, no,” he muttered. But I just-”
“Oh, get over yourself,” snapped the dark-haired witch. She knew she was right, and so did he. She looked at her friend. “Come on, we've got to get that dress before the store closes.”
“Dress?” Draco asked softly, but they were already walking away.
Daphne, however, turned around and said quietly, “Dream on. You could never get her if you tried. Besides, you're not her type. That much is clear.”
Draco, whose fingers were itching, pulled a packet of cigarettes from his cloak. Sighing, he lit one. His mother would kill him if he showed up smelling of a Muggle product. He didn't know why he picked up this habit.
He mainly did it when people pissed him off. People like Daphne Greengrass. Snotty little girl was what she was, and he'd be damned if he'd prove her right.
He turned his attention to the window. He watched Potter paying for what he bought, Ginny beside him. Then something happened. It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Ginny turned her head, caught his eye, and smiled.
“Why do I feel like every time I turn around, you're there?” he asked. “Oh, that's right. Because you bloody are. What do you want?”
Draco smirked and placed a hand on his heart. “Potter, as much as I'd love to hear that you are thinking about me, now's not the time.” His face set into a scowl. “I want to know why you've made Pansy think my girlfriend was threatening her.”
“Me?” Harry said. “I was the one who saw the letter and showed it to her. Why would I write it?”
Draco blinked, rubbed his eyes and said, “I don't understand any of this, I really don't. I do not think that Ginny wrote Pansy any letter.”
“I don't either,” said Pansy from behind him. “I don't know what's going on, but I don't think your little Weaslette would do that, even to me. She's moved on, Harry.” She looked at her boyfriend, frowning. “And I don't remember ever telling you she was the one who wrote me that letter.”
“Could I see the letter?” Draco asked.
“Come on in,” Pansy said, stepping aside. “Would you like some tea?”
Draco smiled but shook his head. Her offering made him think about Ginny, and wondered what she was doing now, if she had noticed his absence. Something in his chest tightened slightly and he realized what it was: he missed her.
“Draco?” Pansy said. “It's late. Are you sure you don't want to do this tomorrow? You can come back.”
“No, I'd like to do it now. I'm wide awake anyway,” he replied, looking around at the small flat. It reminded him of his own, in a way.
Pansy had disappeared and come back with a piece of parchment in her hands. She surveyed Draco with a hard gaze before thrusting the paper into his hands. “Here. It's pretty terrible, what's written, and I really didn't think she did this. It's not like her, no matter what happened. Good luck figuring it out.”
Harry was standing in the doorway still, Draco observed, and when he entered they didn't speak to each other. He retreated to the kitchen and left them alone. Draco preferred it that way. He glanced at Pansy before he started to read the letter.
It was full of bitterness, anger, and betrayal. There were a lot of colorful words too. Words Ginny barely used in her daily life. So, after short consideration, Draco handed the paper back to Pansy.
“Ginny didn't write this,” he told her. “Don't you remember? You watched her write a dozen times in school. I mean, she even wrote you a letter, trying to befriend you.”
“Oh yeah.” Pansy snorted with laughter. “What was she thinking?”
“She didn't know better,” Draco found himself saying. “But anyway this writing isn't hers. But I have an idea of whose it is.”
“You do?” she asked. “Well, then, who is it?”
“You don't recognize it?” he asked. “That's hard to believe, even for you. You're not that thick, Pans. Think about it and Floo me when you know.”
He was headed to the door when she suddenly gasped from behind him.
“Oh!” she exclaimed. “It couldn't be.” She looked at Draco. “She didn't write this, did she? Tell me we're wrong.”
Draco would have loved to. But he didn't say anything. He just left. He returned to Ginny, who still slumbered in front of the now dying fire. As he lay down, put an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, he thought about the first time he'd seen her since Hogwarts.
He had been walking along the streets of London, looking at all the shops, debating going into any of them. He hesitated; he had somewhere to be. With his mother. It was their annual nightly dinner, which he was neglecting lately for no reason in particular.
As he was passing by one of the shops, he happened to look inside. His eyes narrowed as he caught sight of someone he hadn't seen in years – he still looked the same, with his unruly black hair and emerald eyes. Most notably was the scar on his forehead.
Harry Potter was standing there, laughing and holding a large basket, when a girl emerged and he leaned down to kiss her softly. She smirked at him and Draco recognized her immediately, from her red hair to the soft freckles that were dusted across her nose.
Of course he couldn't see those from where he stood, but he had been close enough to Ginny Weasley at one point in time. As he watched them, he took in just how much she had changed.
She was beautiful, he couldn't deny that.
He was so engrossed in watching her, that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him. But he felt the hand on his shoulder, and the soft voice in his ear.
“Admiring the view?”
Draco turned to see Pansy standing behind him, smirking. And she had Daphne with her. He sighed and ran a hand down his face.
“What can I do for you, ladies?” he asked, smirking.
“We're just passing through,” Pansy replied. “Are you on your way to your mother's?”
He nodded. “I may skip it this time.”
Pansy sighed. “Again? Draco, if you do that, Narcissa will write to me and demand that I drag you to Malfoy Manor. Honestly, she just wants to spend time with you. Is that so bad?”
“Well, no,” he muttered. But I just-”
“Oh, get over yourself,” snapped the dark-haired witch. She knew she was right, and so did he. She looked at her friend. “Come on, we've got to get that dress before the store closes.”
“Dress?” Draco asked softly, but they were already walking away.
Daphne, however, turned around and said quietly, “Dream on. You could never get her if you tried. Besides, you're not her type. That much is clear.”
Draco, whose fingers were itching, pulled a packet of cigarettes from his cloak. Sighing, he lit one. His mother would kill him if he showed up smelling of a Muggle product. He didn't know why he picked up this habit.
He mainly did it when people pissed him off. People like Daphne Greengrass. Snotty little girl was what she was, and he'd be damned if he'd prove her right.
He turned his attention to the window. He watched Potter paying for what he bought, Ginny beside him. Then something happened. It was only a fraction of a second, but it was enough. Ginny turned her head, caught his eye, and smiled.
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