For The Wrong Team

His tone is always urgent. Like he has somewhere much more important to be. Much more important people to see. His eyes are so distant. She tries to pretend it doesn't hurt her, but her freckles give her away. Like a map to her heart, and when he traced them with his fingers that night, she handed him her everything on a silver platter.

Silver is nothing close to gold.

He is away again. She sits in the parlor with Pansy. The older girl smokes a cigarette with an old-fashioned filter. Her nails are perfect. Her right hand bears a silver ring with his family crest. A promise is a promise, even if there was never any intention of keeping it.

"It's never going to work."

Pansy's voice is bitter. She has seen the map in spots on pale skin, and she wants so badly to follow it. To have her, and him, and keep them both forever. She always loved dolls.

"It has to."

Red hair hides pained eyes. "I gave up everything."

"Not quite."

Ginny toys with the lace on her dress. "I can't."

Pansy laughs, smoke rolling out from between her lips. "Then you'll lose him. Don't fool yourself into thinking you're his first love. "

As she stubs out her cigarette, Ginny's last shred of hope disappears in the last wisp of smoke.

*

It is near sunrise when he comes back. He smells like blood and death. She never has gotten used to it.

He crawls into bed beside her, the space stretching out between them, and she remembers what Pansy said.

"Draco?"

"Yes, Ginevra?"

"I'm ready."

He moves closer to her, the distance closing as her heart breaks. He traces his long fingers over her cheeks, connecting every freckle. She tries hard not to cry.

In the morning, his fingerprints are marked in blood.

*

It hurts. Everything hurts. The spell, the smell of singeing flesh, the cold eyes glaring at her from beneath dark cloaks. Tom is smiling too happily. He always knew she would return to him. She wants to vomit on the bottom of his hallowed robes. She bites her tongue and tastes tangy, metallic blood.

She falls to her knees. Doesn't realize it until Draco is pulling her up. The applause sounds so far away. Her enemies, cheering for her arrival among them. She tries to smile. Draco looks so pleased. His eyes aren't cold anymore. And his voice is steady and slow when he says, " You did it."

She nods once, weakly, before falling to her knees.

Pulling up her sleeves, she sees the familiar skull and serpent. The same figure that floated above her old home only three months earlier.

She vomits on the stone floor, to murmurs of disgust. She couldn't care less. Draco has his arms around her, but she can barely feel him. Tears are rolling in torrents down her cheeks, washing away the map. There is no need to find her heart anymore. Because it is in pieces at her feet.

She closes her eyes and gathers her voice.

Her scream shakes the room.

*~*fin*~*