Abyss by estherbraga
The morning in the Ministry had begun in midst of a turmoil. Hermione’s proposal to change how house elves were freed was about to be presented and voted that afternoon. It certainly looked like the whole magical community had been requested to partake in that decision. The situation was chaotic, yet exhilarating.
Ginny herself had never seen so many people/magical creatures at the Ministry’s entrance hall since the Death Eaters’ arrests. While the latter had been just as effervescent - dark wizards and affiliated were spat at, condemned and sent to Azkaban -, the former presented an open space for argument, rhetoric. Ironic how both involved freedom vs detainment. Fortunately, the current one emanated hope whereas its predecessor ended in punishment and shackles.
The youngest Weasley after a lot bumping into grumpy goblins and loud witches finally reached her office’s door. « Thank Merlin », she said seconds before Hermione entered hastily the room to leave her bag before running to the courtroom where the audience was supposed to happen. Ginny wasn’t really a high-level employee, therefore hadn’t been invited; which gave her some quiet time. Needless to say, besides the whole life changing event to elves and whatever Hermione proclaimed repeatedly, the occasion provided her space to work at her own pace. Translation: not work at all. Why file those documents today when she could do that tomorrow?
Instead of actually doing her job and keeping up with the news in the auditorium, Ginny decided to go for a hot chocolate. With whipped cream. And a blueberry muffin. Her stomach reminded her what her brain had forgotten: she hadn’t had anything to eat since the night before at her dad’s tribute. The encounter with Malfoy and its emotional rollercoaster made her lose her appetite. Thankfully, past the confusing interaction, the evening ended smoothly: her dad made his speech, people applauded and greeted him, Rita Skeeter’s assistant took a family photo, Ginny hugged all Weasleys (toddlers, mostly) and returned to the Burrow early.
In fact, describing running into Harry and Cho as ‘smooth’ was quite a euphemism. However, it hadn’t been as excruciating as she had imagined. That made Ginny put her reaction upon hearing Malfoy barely mentioning her ex-boyfriend in a whole new perspective. Maybe Ginny did not feel jealous. Maybe she got hurt when the tall-platinum-haired smug picked at her wounds, past and present. An oxymoronic relationship at her part, when it progressively stung watching Harry love her and others. How damaged was she not to reciprocate his affection?
The short walk towards the food trolley two floors above seemed longer while her memory drifted her to her Hogwarts times. She had dreamed of Harry’s adoration for years as a young girl. But time turned everything upside down and Harry no longer felt like the right guy for her. And most importantly, she wasn’t the right girl for him.
The redhead suddenly felt tired. Tired of how she succumbed onto mediocrity. She got lazy, hopeless. She fell and no reaching hand seemed to pull her up. There was no one to blame but her. What would she pay to be mad at some stupid Slytherin for her grieving soul?
Maturity wasn’t a path she felt like threading, apparently.
The sweet odours caressed her nose indicating the trolley’s proximity and her brain got excited at the prospect of nourishment. To her misfortune, some greyish blonde head interrupted the caramelly tones of the pastries. That time, her hunger was as strong as her cravings for some argument and she didn’t change her way.
Draco had actually noticed Ginny’s closeness way before. He had also gotten bored by the current elf situation, deciding to leave his desk for a while, hoping to meet her, even from afar. He remembered wishing to become a bit like a « softy ». Perhaps it had come true.
The blonde came home regretting some harmful things he had said to Ginny. Nevertheless, Malfoy’s burden had become too heavy to carry, so he called it the night. Sooner or later he would have to sleep. He chose the former, for his health's sake.
Remorse was more like a day-to-day activity as he and his mother moved on with their lives. They’ve learnt how to camouflage it so well their conscience had started to feel lighter.
Narcissa had left Azkaban and found refuge at the manor before her son. She entertained herself doing some occasional shopping at the Diagonal Alley. Frivolous, shiny things. They were reminders, tokens, of her luxurious life. Their glimmer contrasted to her stale mornings.
For so long, he believed, she had felt terribly alone. She endured it quietly, stoic.
During his first months of liberty, she had found consolation solely on Draco’s existence. But recently, after her sister Andromeda cordially had invited her to some innocuous tea, she discovered a new group of female friends.
He could see it wasn’t easy for neither of them to let go of some old habits: pretending to like mudbloods, flatter blood traitors, smile, apologize, nod...
Once, Draco questioned his mother if she should keep seeing those inferior people out of plain sight. Narcissa’s sad gaze fell on him as she calmly answered that that sort of assertive caused them nothing but pain, so it was time to change perspectives. It did not mean to disrespect their manners or dishonour their ancestors, either. It meant to build a new Malfoy foundation. They wouldn’t be sloppier, they would be kinder, more tolerant. What ideals of purity and superiority would bring them apart from the disappearance of their own name? Malfoys were ambitious. And ambition entailed survival through goodness as well as through wickedness.
Since his father had previously chosen the latter, Draco took a risk on goodness this time. And after a few struggles, it already felt a thousand times harder, even more when Ginny’s presence was involved. He had become intrigued by her luminosity. It was ridiculous, he knew, how she shone through a thick layer of aggressiveness. And dirty freckles.
Her father, once filthy Weasley, had taken the higher ground and forgave his past in order to a fairer society. He took him under his wing, almost. Although Draco was supposed to begin from down below, no one dared to threat or belittle him. That had been his doing: the gentle blood traitor.
Then, against his better judgment, Draco’s took interest on the man’s daughter. Reminiscences of her Quidditch days at school and how ardently she dealt with boys turned on some dormant desires he had repressed during his Azkaban years. It was about time he took some action on this matter.
While he agonised at prison, the boy-who-lived-and-saved-the-fucking-world had the girl and left her at her worst. How could someone so harmless have wounded her essence? Being with someone entailed shielding them and all Draco had seen was annihilation.
Deep down Draco acknowledged he was the culprit regarding too many issues to brag about this exceptional instance of alleged innocence. Nonetheless, it was nice to presume that he hadn’t been responsible for destroying something. He bullied, mocked, constantly humiliated poorer wizards, especially Weasleys. In some way, he hadn’t managed to crush them that badly. This time, Potter was the one worth vilipending.
« Are you following me, Weasley? », Draco smirked.
« You wish, Malfoy. You just happen to be on my way to the food. I won’t starve because of you. », the redhead replied, settling herself closely behind him. He ordered a black coffee, getting himself his beverage and followed his first sip with a head nod, indicating that she should go ahead.
Ginny frowned at him and finally grabbed her snack. She hadn’t lied. She was starving. The first gulp of her hot chocolate descended through her throat releasing a jolt of joy. The new glucose injection eventually silenced her stomach. That day already started to feel a bit better.
When Ginny dug her hand inside her messy wallet, catching up some sickles (one by one, and, at times, mistaken by a few loose balls of thread), Draco intervened, speaking directly to the salesman « For her purchase and mine. You can keep the change ». Nonchalantly, he placed the coins on the counter and kept walking.
Ginny’s reaction was a bit delayed by her astonishment. She followed the blonde with an intense stare, not sure of what to respond.
« Are you going to keep staring at me? Don’t you have better things to do?”, Draco said between his smug grins.
“Why would you do that? You realise I can pay for my own food.”
“You were taking forever with your ridiculous purse. »
“I was not taking forever!”, Ginny protested to more smirks.
«You were. The poor salesman almost killed himself waiting. Besides, I owe you one.”, the blonde insisted, watching glimpses of confusion spread on her face « Your father. He gave me this job. He’s a Weasley. You’re a Weasley. My debt is paid. », he explained as if it was so obvious even a child could infer it.
« You owe me nothing, Malfoy. In fact, my dad doesn’t expect anything from you, either. Your misery, having to report to Hermione every day is enough satisfaction for both of us. »
Draco gazed at the corner of her lips turning upwards, feeling warmer. So many years in Azkaban, travelling alone, he’d forgotten this welcoming sensation. It was...good.
“I don’t know how you put up with this mudblo...”, he restrained himself at her chastising look, noticing she didn’t have her muffin on her hands. “Have you already eaten? All of it? That thing was enormous! ». She was still chewing, too busy to respond. «The pastries sold here are nothing compared to Madam Puddifoot’s. My mother loves her raspberry scones. She makes me buy a dozen every day. By now, I thought she would have gotten tired of them, but she hasn’t. It’s an old people thing, I suppose.”
Ginny paid curious attention to him. His tone was sweet, affectionate. He didn’t sound like a Malfoy.
She swallowed her muffin, loudly. He laughed.
« It’s hard to break habits. Like me insulting you. », Ginny began, walking side by side with Draco a little further from the trolley.
« Exactly. Always a matter of taste»
They suddenly stopped by an indoors garden. Silence lingered briefly. They gazed at some glistening flowers that emanated a sweet perfume. If it was a decade before, they’d be killing each other. Now, they've allowed themselves to understand their rival, both aware of how their journey up to that moment had been, to say the least, lugubrious.
« Do you still think about pursuing a career in Quidditch? You were a Chuddley Cannons fans, weren’t you? », Draco timidly started a conversation, leading the way to some sitting spots.
« I support the Harpies. And no. All coaches have already made pretty clear that they don’t want me. » It was an upsetting subject to Ginny, but she sensed the allusion wasn’t an attack per se. He sounded genuinely curious. Thus, she replied with honesty as well.
« They didn’t want me either. An ex-prisoner isn’t exactly good publicity », he added, following her gaze to the ground. She moved anxiously her feet, rolling her index finger up then down over her thumb. An unexpected bond arose between them: shame. «They must have been blind. It hurts to admit it, but you were a great player. Better than most of my Slytherin mates »
« I’ve peaked at school, I guess. A rhapsody of decay. And I can’t throw the Azkaban card, like you », she elbowed his abdomen, chuckling at her sickening joke.
« ‘Azkaban card’? All my youth on a dungeon and you call it the ‘Azkaban card’? », Draco argued, raising his arms.
« You’ve done bad things, Malfoy. Sometimes I think your punishment was too cruel. Sometimes I wish you hadn’t been locked away, but your actions did hurt people in an irreparable way», Draco listened quietly. At different times, he would have humiliated her, made her pay. Now, looking into her merciful eyes, he gave in.
There was no need to pretend he had been incorruptible. He wasn’t the cruellest villain, but he wasn’t innocent either. The first step towards amendments was recognition.
« Have I hurt you? Irreparably?”, he pried, hoping to hear Potter's or Voldemort's name instead. He held his breath, impatiently waiting for exemption.
« No. Not directly… Your Death Eaters friends tried 'though... Rebuilding life after war was difficult. There were some wounds that we chose to hide so they would heal faster. Eventually they reappeared and we were supposed to treat them. But sometimes the cure didn’t feel that good either. You know, I used to expect Fred’s return as if his disappearance had been just one of his pranks… Coming back to a reality where he was gone was heart-breaking, but also necessary”, Ginny paused, realising she’d talked too much. It had been ages since she’d spoken about Hogwarts’ battle aftermath so candidly. Everyone around her had suffered too much. They all deserved a break. Her, included.
Draco listened, uncertain if he should apologize on his Death-Eaters behalf, on his behalf. On some degree he had hurt the woman before him. Potter wasn’t the greatest culprit after all.
“I'm babbling. Sorry. Anyway, you can cross me out of your list of victims, okay? », lifting her head cautiously, she tried to lighten the mood. She was aware that she always leant towards escapism. She’d even fled from growing up. For instance, at the moment, she’s been facing her late adulthood’s consequences.
« I'm not really counting. I prefer not to poke on ancient scars. You might not believe me but Malfoys bruise too”, he grinned and she briefly thought it wasn’t right of him to deny all the atrocities he’d provoked. Or at least hadn’t prevented. However, why would she torture him?
She felt at ease with him. It didn’t seem right to sacrifice their fragile connection for the taste of bloody justice. Or revenge. He'd been incarcerated, he bled in all papers. She wouldn’t be the one to drain him dry.
So, Ginny chose nurturing over annihilation.
“Oh, I believe it. Your eye bags are proof of your deteriorating humanity”
He sat beside her. She giggled gleefully, aware of his real appearance. Although he indeed had some slightly purple shadows below his eyes, they hadn’t diminished any fraction of his handsomeness. At that moment, the midday sun drew light stripes over his face as if framing it in a painting. The epitome of beauty. Maculated. But beauty nonetheless.
“Trivia: we, Malfoys, have bad breaths in the morning and we conceal our shameful past with proud denial instead of actual repentance.” Draco noticed her staring at him and started to analyse her as well. He’d been hypothesizing for so long how it would feel to actually look at her, make her laugh, that when it finally happened, it felt surreal. He was walking on a thin thread. At any instant, she would insult him and all would come back to normal.
“You might joke about it, but I believe you’re denying your brand-new asset: kindness. You can do great things, selfless, even. I can feel it”
Fortunately, she gave him a few seconds to spare. He looked up, hanging in there. The abyss beneath his rope felt less menacing. She genuinely thought he could be good. For now, it was enough for him to believe it too.
“Well, I can succeed at everything. That’s a fact.”, he joked, “You know, Weasley, you can do things too. Not as grand as I can, but, even so.”
Ginny’s sun-bathed irises closed. He missed the brownish orbs as she deeply sighed. The young woman reacted as if she’d been hit.
“No, I can’t... Please, I don’t really want to talk about it “, Ginny replied, motionless. ‘Why would he say that?’, she thought. False flattering only made things worse. But how would he know? He had been spoiled his whole life. He actually believed all compliments he’d received were an attestation of truth.
Draco had no time to argue as a horde of witches and wizards rushed through the corridor. Suddenly, Draco and Ginny found themselves smothered by the cacophony of the crowd. With just an exchange of understanding looks, they split.
They knew it was too soon to expose their... Both couldn’t fathom what was going on. Even so, they didn’t want to lose it.
An unspoken agreement was settled as they were swallowed by the multitude. With a blink of an eye, the silent refuge was replaced by effervescent altercations on the voting that had had place at the auditorium. Ginny tried with no success to find Draco amongst the sea of people. Little did she know he had returned to same spot they’ve rested previously. Draco watched the flowing flowers and frowned. The sweet aroma was gone.
Ginny herself had never seen so many people/magical creatures at the Ministry’s entrance hall since the Death Eaters’ arrests. While the latter had been just as effervescent - dark wizards and affiliated were spat at, condemned and sent to Azkaban -, the former presented an open space for argument, rhetoric. Ironic how both involved freedom vs detainment. Fortunately, the current one emanated hope whereas its predecessor ended in punishment and shackles.
The youngest Weasley after a lot bumping into grumpy goblins and loud witches finally reached her office’s door. « Thank Merlin », she said seconds before Hermione entered hastily the room to leave her bag before running to the courtroom where the audience was supposed to happen. Ginny wasn’t really a high-level employee, therefore hadn’t been invited; which gave her some quiet time. Needless to say, besides the whole life changing event to elves and whatever Hermione proclaimed repeatedly, the occasion provided her space to work at her own pace. Translation: not work at all. Why file those documents today when she could do that tomorrow?
Instead of actually doing her job and keeping up with the news in the auditorium, Ginny decided to go for a hot chocolate. With whipped cream. And a blueberry muffin. Her stomach reminded her what her brain had forgotten: she hadn’t had anything to eat since the night before at her dad’s tribute. The encounter with Malfoy and its emotional rollercoaster made her lose her appetite. Thankfully, past the confusing interaction, the evening ended smoothly: her dad made his speech, people applauded and greeted him, Rita Skeeter’s assistant took a family photo, Ginny hugged all Weasleys (toddlers, mostly) and returned to the Burrow early.
In fact, describing running into Harry and Cho as ‘smooth’ was quite a euphemism. However, it hadn’t been as excruciating as she had imagined. That made Ginny put her reaction upon hearing Malfoy barely mentioning her ex-boyfriend in a whole new perspective. Maybe Ginny did not feel jealous. Maybe she got hurt when the tall-platinum-haired smug picked at her wounds, past and present. An oxymoronic relationship at her part, when it progressively stung watching Harry love her and others. How damaged was she not to reciprocate his affection?
The short walk towards the food trolley two floors above seemed longer while her memory drifted her to her Hogwarts times. She had dreamed of Harry’s adoration for years as a young girl. But time turned everything upside down and Harry no longer felt like the right guy for her. And most importantly, she wasn’t the right girl for him.
The redhead suddenly felt tired. Tired of how she succumbed onto mediocrity. She got lazy, hopeless. She fell and no reaching hand seemed to pull her up. There was no one to blame but her. What would she pay to be mad at some stupid Slytherin for her grieving soul?
Maturity wasn’t a path she felt like threading, apparently.
The sweet odours caressed her nose indicating the trolley’s proximity and her brain got excited at the prospect of nourishment. To her misfortune, some greyish blonde head interrupted the caramelly tones of the pastries. That time, her hunger was as strong as her cravings for some argument and she didn’t change her way.
Draco had actually noticed Ginny’s closeness way before. He had also gotten bored by the current elf situation, deciding to leave his desk for a while, hoping to meet her, even from afar. He remembered wishing to become a bit like a « softy ». Perhaps it had come true.
The blonde came home regretting some harmful things he had said to Ginny. Nevertheless, Malfoy’s burden had become too heavy to carry, so he called it the night. Sooner or later he would have to sleep. He chose the former, for his health's sake.
Remorse was more like a day-to-day activity as he and his mother moved on with their lives. They’ve learnt how to camouflage it so well their conscience had started to feel lighter.
Narcissa had left Azkaban and found refuge at the manor before her son. She entertained herself doing some occasional shopping at the Diagonal Alley. Frivolous, shiny things. They were reminders, tokens, of her luxurious life. Their glimmer contrasted to her stale mornings.
For so long, he believed, she had felt terribly alone. She endured it quietly, stoic.
During his first months of liberty, she had found consolation solely on Draco’s existence. But recently, after her sister Andromeda cordially had invited her to some innocuous tea, she discovered a new group of female friends.
He could see it wasn’t easy for neither of them to let go of some old habits: pretending to like mudbloods, flatter blood traitors, smile, apologize, nod...
Once, Draco questioned his mother if she should keep seeing those inferior people out of plain sight. Narcissa’s sad gaze fell on him as she calmly answered that that sort of assertive caused them nothing but pain, so it was time to change perspectives. It did not mean to disrespect their manners or dishonour their ancestors, either. It meant to build a new Malfoy foundation. They wouldn’t be sloppier, they would be kinder, more tolerant. What ideals of purity and superiority would bring them apart from the disappearance of their own name? Malfoys were ambitious. And ambition entailed survival through goodness as well as through wickedness.
Since his father had previously chosen the latter, Draco took a risk on goodness this time. And after a few struggles, it already felt a thousand times harder, even more when Ginny’s presence was involved. He had become intrigued by her luminosity. It was ridiculous, he knew, how she shone through a thick layer of aggressiveness. And dirty freckles.
Her father, once filthy Weasley, had taken the higher ground and forgave his past in order to a fairer society. He took him under his wing, almost. Although Draco was supposed to begin from down below, no one dared to threat or belittle him. That had been his doing: the gentle blood traitor.
Then, against his better judgment, Draco’s took interest on the man’s daughter. Reminiscences of her Quidditch days at school and how ardently she dealt with boys turned on some dormant desires he had repressed during his Azkaban years. It was about time he took some action on this matter.
While he agonised at prison, the boy-who-lived-and-saved-the-fucking-world had the girl and left her at her worst. How could someone so harmless have wounded her essence? Being with someone entailed shielding them and all Draco had seen was annihilation.
Deep down Draco acknowledged he was the culprit regarding too many issues to brag about this exceptional instance of alleged innocence. Nonetheless, it was nice to presume that he hadn’t been responsible for destroying something. He bullied, mocked, constantly humiliated poorer wizards, especially Weasleys. In some way, he hadn’t managed to crush them that badly. This time, Potter was the one worth vilipending.
« Are you following me, Weasley? », Draco smirked.
« You wish, Malfoy. You just happen to be on my way to the food. I won’t starve because of you. », the redhead replied, settling herself closely behind him. He ordered a black coffee, getting himself his beverage and followed his first sip with a head nod, indicating that she should go ahead.
Ginny frowned at him and finally grabbed her snack. She hadn’t lied. She was starving. The first gulp of her hot chocolate descended through her throat releasing a jolt of joy. The new glucose injection eventually silenced her stomach. That day already started to feel a bit better.
When Ginny dug her hand inside her messy wallet, catching up some sickles (one by one, and, at times, mistaken by a few loose balls of thread), Draco intervened, speaking directly to the salesman « For her purchase and mine. You can keep the change ». Nonchalantly, he placed the coins on the counter and kept walking.
Ginny’s reaction was a bit delayed by her astonishment. She followed the blonde with an intense stare, not sure of what to respond.
« Are you going to keep staring at me? Don’t you have better things to do?”, Draco said between his smug grins.
“Why would you do that? You realise I can pay for my own food.”
“You were taking forever with your ridiculous purse. »
“I was not taking forever!”, Ginny protested to more smirks.
«You were. The poor salesman almost killed himself waiting. Besides, I owe you one.”, the blonde insisted, watching glimpses of confusion spread on her face « Your father. He gave me this job. He’s a Weasley. You’re a Weasley. My debt is paid. », he explained as if it was so obvious even a child could infer it.
« You owe me nothing, Malfoy. In fact, my dad doesn’t expect anything from you, either. Your misery, having to report to Hermione every day is enough satisfaction for both of us. »
Draco gazed at the corner of her lips turning upwards, feeling warmer. So many years in Azkaban, travelling alone, he’d forgotten this welcoming sensation. It was...good.
“I don’t know how you put up with this mudblo...”, he restrained himself at her chastising look, noticing she didn’t have her muffin on her hands. “Have you already eaten? All of it? That thing was enormous! ». She was still chewing, too busy to respond. «The pastries sold here are nothing compared to Madam Puddifoot’s. My mother loves her raspberry scones. She makes me buy a dozen every day. By now, I thought she would have gotten tired of them, but she hasn’t. It’s an old people thing, I suppose.”
Ginny paid curious attention to him. His tone was sweet, affectionate. He didn’t sound like a Malfoy.
She swallowed her muffin, loudly. He laughed.
« It’s hard to break habits. Like me insulting you. », Ginny began, walking side by side with Draco a little further from the trolley.
« Exactly. Always a matter of taste»
They suddenly stopped by an indoors garden. Silence lingered briefly. They gazed at some glistening flowers that emanated a sweet perfume. If it was a decade before, they’d be killing each other. Now, they've allowed themselves to understand their rival, both aware of how their journey up to that moment had been, to say the least, lugubrious.
« Do you still think about pursuing a career in Quidditch? You were a Chuddley Cannons fans, weren’t you? », Draco timidly started a conversation, leading the way to some sitting spots.
« I support the Harpies. And no. All coaches have already made pretty clear that they don’t want me. » It was an upsetting subject to Ginny, but she sensed the allusion wasn’t an attack per se. He sounded genuinely curious. Thus, she replied with honesty as well.
« They didn’t want me either. An ex-prisoner isn’t exactly good publicity », he added, following her gaze to the ground. She moved anxiously her feet, rolling her index finger up then down over her thumb. An unexpected bond arose between them: shame. «They must have been blind. It hurts to admit it, but you were a great player. Better than most of my Slytherin mates »
« I’ve peaked at school, I guess. A rhapsody of decay. And I can’t throw the Azkaban card, like you », she elbowed his abdomen, chuckling at her sickening joke.
« ‘Azkaban card’? All my youth on a dungeon and you call it the ‘Azkaban card’? », Draco argued, raising his arms.
« You’ve done bad things, Malfoy. Sometimes I think your punishment was too cruel. Sometimes I wish you hadn’t been locked away, but your actions did hurt people in an irreparable way», Draco listened quietly. At different times, he would have humiliated her, made her pay. Now, looking into her merciful eyes, he gave in.
There was no need to pretend he had been incorruptible. He wasn’t the cruellest villain, but he wasn’t innocent either. The first step towards amendments was recognition.
« Have I hurt you? Irreparably?”, he pried, hoping to hear Potter's or Voldemort's name instead. He held his breath, impatiently waiting for exemption.
« No. Not directly… Your Death Eaters friends tried 'though... Rebuilding life after war was difficult. There were some wounds that we chose to hide so they would heal faster. Eventually they reappeared and we were supposed to treat them. But sometimes the cure didn’t feel that good either. You know, I used to expect Fred’s return as if his disappearance had been just one of his pranks… Coming back to a reality where he was gone was heart-breaking, but also necessary”, Ginny paused, realising she’d talked too much. It had been ages since she’d spoken about Hogwarts’ battle aftermath so candidly. Everyone around her had suffered too much. They all deserved a break. Her, included.
Draco listened, uncertain if he should apologize on his Death-Eaters behalf, on his behalf. On some degree he had hurt the woman before him. Potter wasn’t the greatest culprit after all.
“I'm babbling. Sorry. Anyway, you can cross me out of your list of victims, okay? », lifting her head cautiously, she tried to lighten the mood. She was aware that she always leant towards escapism. She’d even fled from growing up. For instance, at the moment, she’s been facing her late adulthood’s consequences.
« I'm not really counting. I prefer not to poke on ancient scars. You might not believe me but Malfoys bruise too”, he grinned and she briefly thought it wasn’t right of him to deny all the atrocities he’d provoked. Or at least hadn’t prevented. However, why would she torture him?
She felt at ease with him. It didn’t seem right to sacrifice their fragile connection for the taste of bloody justice. Or revenge. He'd been incarcerated, he bled in all papers. She wouldn’t be the one to drain him dry.
So, Ginny chose nurturing over annihilation.
“Oh, I believe it. Your eye bags are proof of your deteriorating humanity”
He sat beside her. She giggled gleefully, aware of his real appearance. Although he indeed had some slightly purple shadows below his eyes, they hadn’t diminished any fraction of his handsomeness. At that moment, the midday sun drew light stripes over his face as if framing it in a painting. The epitome of beauty. Maculated. But beauty nonetheless.
“Trivia: we, Malfoys, have bad breaths in the morning and we conceal our shameful past with proud denial instead of actual repentance.” Draco noticed her staring at him and started to analyse her as well. He’d been hypothesizing for so long how it would feel to actually look at her, make her laugh, that when it finally happened, it felt surreal. He was walking on a thin thread. At any instant, she would insult him and all would come back to normal.
“You might joke about it, but I believe you’re denying your brand-new asset: kindness. You can do great things, selfless, even. I can feel it”
Fortunately, she gave him a few seconds to spare. He looked up, hanging in there. The abyss beneath his rope felt less menacing. She genuinely thought he could be good. For now, it was enough for him to believe it too.
“Well, I can succeed at everything. That’s a fact.”, he joked, “You know, Weasley, you can do things too. Not as grand as I can, but, even so.”
Ginny’s sun-bathed irises closed. He missed the brownish orbs as she deeply sighed. The young woman reacted as if she’d been hit.
“No, I can’t... Please, I don’t really want to talk about it “, Ginny replied, motionless. ‘Why would he say that?’, she thought. False flattering only made things worse. But how would he know? He had been spoiled his whole life. He actually believed all compliments he’d received were an attestation of truth.
Draco had no time to argue as a horde of witches and wizards rushed through the corridor. Suddenly, Draco and Ginny found themselves smothered by the cacophony of the crowd. With just an exchange of understanding looks, they split.
They knew it was too soon to expose their... Both couldn’t fathom what was going on. Even so, they didn’t want to lose it.
An unspoken agreement was settled as they were swallowed by the multitude. With a blink of an eye, the silent refuge was replaced by effervescent altercations on the voting that had had place at the auditorium. Ginny tried with no success to find Draco amongst the sea of people. Little did she know he had returned to same spot they’ve rested previously. Draco watched the flowing flowers and frowned. The sweet aroma was gone.
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