Forbidden Fruit

Chapter Five:

Draco had unintentionally spewed pumpkin juice all over himself and Ginny when she'd told him about Ron's reaction when she had returned to Gryffindor Tower. He muttered as he changed clothes and called for a house elf to clean the old ones. Irritation was setting in, his foul mood getting worse with every passing second. As if he didn't have enough of a problem getting her alone, now he had to spend what little time they'd found cleaning himself up. But, he thought with amusement, the thought of Ron being so close and so clueless was, in itself, intoxicating. There was something about the idea of getting caught, or rather the danger of it, that made his trysts with Ginny all that much more desirable.

He was almost certain of what would happen if they ever actually were caught. He knew it wouldn't be pretty. He could count on at least a broken nose, if not more of his bones. Both eyes would likely be blackened, a busted lip. Oh, the list could go on for hours. And that was just from Ron. Only the gods knew what would happen once the news spread through the rest of the Weasley clan. Stupid Neanderthals. Then again, he was sure that if news ever spread about the relationship, he'd get the better end of the deal, dealing with her brothers. He shuddered, thinking about his father's reaction and was fairly sure that not only would he pay, but Ginny would as well. Maybe this was a bad idea. No. This was a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

He looked into his mirror, wincing as he saw the reflection staring back at him. What had he gotten himself into? Was he really in love? With a Weasley? Love didn't exist. He'd learned that far too early in life to salvage any semblance of hope for it. So what was going on between him and the youngest Weasley? Draco certainly liked to be with her; intimately or not, it didn't matter. She was capable of so much more than the rest of her family, and yet, she was still a Weasley. He paled as he saw the picture of his demented thoughts play out across his mirror in front of him.

"Father, I'd like you to meet someone very special to me. I think I've found the woman to carry on the Malfoy line."

Lucius looked up, acknowledging his son with the usual disinterest. "And who, pray tell, told you that you had a choice in who would carry my grandchildren?"

Ginny stepped into the doorway, grasping for Draco's hand. Nervousness filled the air around her, thick and spreading through both of them. "Father, this is Ginny. We're engage ..."

Lucius didn't wait for the sentence to be finished. His expression went from disinterest to hate in a matter of microseconds, the same amount of time it took to grasp and raise his wand. "Crucio!"

Draco doubled over with pain, bearing his teeth together as he tried to fight it. "Crucio!"

Ginny fell to the ground at his feet, clutching her stomach. "Draco!" she gasped.

Draco felt so helpless. He couldn't help her; he couldn't even comfort her. He lowered himself closer to the floor, but stood up abruptly as he was hit with another curse.

"Crucio!" Lucius yelled, with growing fury. "What did you think you were doing, boy? Bringing a Weasley into Malfoy Manor? Engaged? A Weasley polluting the Malfoy bloodline?"

"Her family is pureblood!"

Draco was not able to stay on his feet as the third Cruciatus Curse hit him. Ginny was still reeling from the first as he collapsed beside her.

Draco took a sharp intake of breath as he stepped back from the mirror. "Finite Speculum!"

The image faded and gave way to his reflection once more. Quickly he filled his hands with icy cold water and splashed it against his face. Oh yes, this was a very bad idea.

He picked up a quill and set it to the parchment on his desk. His heart broke ten minutes later when Flitterbloom fled from his window with the note attached to her leg, not that anyone would have noticed. Draco's trained expression gave away nothing.

~*~

Ginny's face was red, her eyes dark as she made her way through the halls of Hogwarts on a Mission. Her mission: find Draco and rip him into tiny shreds of puss-filled flesh. She stomped up one stairway, and down the next, a single piece of parchment clutched tightly in her fist. Her anger rose the longer she looked, finally, when she thought she must be about to explode, she saw the sunlight shimmering off of his silvery hair as he stood, alone, in front of a window at the end of a hall.

He must have been deep in thought about something, as he didn't hear her coming until it was too late. Just as he turned around she pinned him against the cold stone wall. The fist holding his letter hard against his chest, holding him. Hurting him. Or at least she hoped it was. She wanted him to feel his heart being yanked out, just as she had. And if she couldn't make him feel it emotionally ... physically would have to do.

"What the hell is this?" she demanded.

Her blood boiled as he looked down with indifference and sneered, "It looks like a piece of parchment."

She pushed her body closer, violently pressing him harder into the wall. "Don't be a smart arse, Draco. What the hell does this mean? This was a bad idea? We can't be together?"

Draco tried to keep his facade up, but he couldn't. Not completely. If anyone else had knocked him into a wall, he would have come back fighting. But this was Ginny. Carefully he concealed the pain in his own eyes and avoided looking into hers. He was all too aware it was there as well. "You knew, Ginny. We both knew when this started that it couldn't last."

"It?" He winced at the crack in her voice. "IT? What we had ... what we did ... IT?"

"Ginny." Bravely he brought his hand up and entwined it in her hair, softly. "You know I didn't mean it like that. I just think, well, I think it's time. We're getting too ... attached. This can't last. Between your family and mine, it just can't. You knew that."

Her face softened, some of the red draining out as her color slowly began to find its way back. Her voice, however, was leaving her. She spoke in only a whisper, "So you took it upon yourself to decide that this was the time? Without even taking my feelings into consideration?"

He'd thought her getting her rage out would make the situation easier. Now he realized he'd been wrong. So wrong. No longer could he ignore the pain written all over her face, aired in her voice. He closed his eyes briefly to regain his composure. "What would you have said, Ginny? Would you have agreed that it was time? Would you ever agree that it was time?"

She stared at him for what seemed like hours, although in reality, it was only minutes. She was silent; he couldn't even tell if she was breathing. The calmer she got, the more scared he became. Finally, she pulled away from him. Quickly, almost as if it hurt to be close to him, to touch him. He wasn't sure that it didn't. It was hurting him for her to be so close. Not anywhere he was used to. He could have dealt with physical pain. Emotional, dealings of the heart, this was new territory to him.

"Ginny ..."

She'd turned her back on him before he could stop her. "Don't, Malfoy. Just don't. I'm really not in the mood to listen to your narcissistic Malfoy crap."

And she was gone.

Draco stood beside the same window until the sun had left and only darkness filtered through.

Darkness.

Draco felt as if his entire life was surrounded with the stuff, and he hated it. Why wasn't he given a choice on his father being a Death Eater? Why wasn't he given a choice on his family being associated with the Dark Lord? Why wasn't he given a choice on who he could be with?

Only when his arm burned did he realize that he hadn't moved in hours. His hand still hung in the air just as it had when he'd last touched Ginny. He could almost feel her silky strands between his fingers still. He willed his arm to drop to his side, and it did, hitting his thigh like a brick as he slowly made his way back to the dungeons. Back to the place he'd belong, always.

~*~

Hermione watched as her usually strong friend seemed to drain every last bit of energy she possessed attempting to climb the stairs. She took careful note of Ginny's knuckles blanched white as she gripped the railing with all her might.

Something was terribly wrong.

Ginny's normally jubilant face was closed off, the color that was left seemed to be only remnant of something more. Maybe a fever? Hermione didn't know. Ginny's slumped posture and slow steps were a position Hermione had previously thought she'd never see on such a lively girl, and her head was hung low, almost in a shameful expression.

She seemed completely and utterly drained.

"Ron?" Hermione whispered, then realized the stupidity of whispering. "What's wrong with Ginny?"

Ron looked up from his game of Chess and shrugged, "Maybe she's not feeling well."

Hermione stood, "I'm going to go check on her. She may need to see Madame Pomfrey." She followed Ginny's tracks up the stairs and gently knocked on her door before entering. "Ginny? Are you okay?"

Ginny tried to contain her voice. She did. But it still cracked when she tried to speak. She shook it off and tried once more, a weak cry escaped. Hermione was immediately at her side wrapping her arms around the girl. "Do you need to go to ..."

Ginny cut her off with an adamant head shake. "No," she whispered, "I'm just tired. That's all. I've been tired lately."

Hermione lay down beside her and stroked Ginny's soft hair as both girls fell into a restless slumber.