And So I Love Him

And So I Love Him

Ginny looked down at Draco's sleeping form, clearly outlined under the sheer white sheets. His hair was tousled, as it could be only when he was sleeping, and his face was relaxed, his mouth curved into a weary half-smile.

"What have I done to deserve this?" Ginny whispered into the shadowy darkness. She brushed a stray wisp of silver hair away from Draco's eyes.

It pained her so to know that she had been nothing but cruel to Draco up until a month ago. It frightened her, as well. How could she have come to love this boy in only four weeks? When had hate turned to like? Like to love? Maybe it had been somewhere in-between. Possibly, it had been subtle, so that neither she nor Draco had noticed that they were suddenly bumping into each other everywhere they went.

And, yes, it had been subtle. First it was meeting each other when least expected. Then they would study together. And finally, all of their days combined, and suddenly they were eating together and kissing in the halls (as well as many other places).

Soon after they had studied together, Ginny had found that she longed to touch him; his cheek, his arm, hand, anything. And it had been the same for Draco, though Ginny knew it not. He had intentionally spilt his ink all over her hand, just so he could help her wash it. Corny, true, but effective. They had spent half an hour just scrubbing her skin and laughing about Draco's clumsy nature. And for once, Draco could laugh at himself.

So I love him, Ginny had explained to Hermione. What's the big deal?

The fact that Ginny's crush on Harry had dissolved in a day was enough to convince anyone of Draco's power over her. Ginny had not let Draco control her, as Tom Riddle had, but she did let him win occasionally. When they had a passionate snog, she would let him rule. It made no matter to her, she was being kissed by Draco, and that was good enough for her.

But was it good enough for him?

That was the question Ginny had suffered for so long. Was she the best that Draco could hope to have?

No, Ginny thought as she watched Draco's chest rising and falling as he breathed. No, he deserves better than I could ever give him. He's been denied nothing throughout his entire life, except for love. He did not get enough love. That is what makes him so bitter and cynical around others. Those who don't love him cannot expect to be loved in return.

"But what if I'm wrong?" Ginny wondered aloud. "What if he doesn't love or need me? I suppose it would serve me right, after the way I used to treat him, if he hated me. Why doesn't he hate me? He should, by all accounts. So I love him, yeah. But does he love me?"

She looked back down at Draco, who was bathed in moonlight from the high window in the bedroom. He made a soft noise as he slept, and snuggled closer to Ginny. She giggled quietly as Draco yanked the thicker covers over his body.

"And on he sleeps," she laughed inaudibly. "I'd swear that boy could sleep through an earthquake if he wanted to."

"But I can't sleep through your voice, apparently," came Draco's muffled voice from under the covers.

"Oh," Ginny blushed. "How much did you--"

"'What have I done to deserve this?'" he quoted. "I can't believe you can't find the answer. You didn't need to do anything to deserve this. And I do love you," he said, pulling her under the covers with him. She cuddled against his warm body, thinking about the past, present and future.

And so I love him.