More Than This

‘Foolish lies, can’t you see I’ve tried to compromise,

Cause what you say ain’t always true,

and I can see the tears in your eyes . . .’

-Unwritten Law-

 

            The next month was one of the loneliest of Ginny’s life. Harry refused to look at her. Hermione frequently cast piteous glances her way, and Ron was disgusted with her. When Colin came back from holiday, he was her only company. He didn’t say a word about Harry, chatting with her as normal. But she knew that he would abandon her as well if he knew the reason behind the breakup.

            She took to haunting the steps where she had kissed Malfoy. No one but him would think to look for her there, and he showed very little interest in her anymore. She had seen him several times in the corridors, snogging a different girl each time. She hated herself for ever having been one of them. One of his toys. But one evening, as she sat alone in her hiding place, he invaded her thoughts. She looked down at the ring on her hand. She had not worn it since Christmas. But something had told her to put it on tonight. The stone was glowing, casting its array of colors into the dark, cold night. Gold and red met with silver and green, bleeding together, and she felt the memories rise again, bringing with them fresh waves of pain.

“Harry,” the girl with hair of fire whispered into the darkness.

“What about him?” the boy asked.

Ginny realized with a start that she could hear Malfoy’s thoughts as well as her own. And her thoughts were more clear to her than they had been that night. Eager to hear more, she closed her eyes and let the memory overtake her.

                                                                        *

“He’s my boyfriend,” she said. She knew it was mostly to remind herself.

“But you don’t want to be with him,” Draco whispered. He was desperately hoping he was right. He tightened his grip on her hand.

“I never said that.” She felt on the verge of tears. She had never said that she didn’t want to be with Harry, but she had thought it.

“Then why the hell did you kiss me? Not only once, but three times!” He was clinging to the hope that she would tell him what he wanted to hear.

“I don’t know.” She did know. It was because she had never felt anything like it. Being with him was like nothing else in the world.

“I know why,” he insisted. I have to be right. “You want to be with me.”

She looked at their hands, laced together, and knew he was right. No. He can’t be right.

“No,” she said softly. She could feel his sorrow, his anger, his hopelessness. He would never tell her how he felt. That would be admitting weakness. Malfoys did not have weaknesses. She dared not meet his gaze directly. She knew that her eyes would be a reflection of the pain he felt.

                                                                        *

            The memory faded and Ginny felt herself being pulled back to the present. She felt the tears, hot and wet against her face. She felt dizzy and tired. How did I know what he was thinking? Why was the memory clearer than when it actually happened? She placed a hand to her forehead, trying to ease the dull throbbing between her eyes. What kind of ring is that anyway?

                                                                        *

            Draco pulled the ring from his finger, feeling dazed and confused. How did that happen? He had been able to hear her thought; feel her emotions. She wanted to be with me. She said it. Well, she thought it. But I heard it. Her pain had been agonizing for him. Doubled with his own, it was almost unbearable. So she never wanted Potter, he thought smugly. That prat. He acted as if he owned her. But this isn’t about Potter. This is about Ginny. And right now, he had to find her.

                                                                        *

“Hey, Weasley.” The words were full of contempt, but were spoken softly. Gently.

“Malfoy,” Ginny said in the same manner. She did not look back at him. In a moment, he had sat down beside her.

“So, did you like the gift?”

She turned her eyes on him. “What is it?”

“I don’t exactly know myself. I know it is called the Ring of Memories,” he said.

Ha, she thought. I had the name right.

“It is one in a pair. I have the other one. The man at the store said that when you purchase a pair of them , you leave a print on them. Like a part of you is in the rings. And when you give one ring to someone else, the it conjures up memories for the receiver. But the memories are only ones the giver is involved in or knows about.”

“So it was a trick,” she said, sounding torn between anger and amusement.

“Kind of.” No sense pretending to be innocent, he thought.

“But . . . What about what happened a few minutes ago? I put the ring on and I could hear your thoughts from that night in the library.” she said, her dark brown eyes clouding.

“You could hear my thoughts?” he blurted. He didn’t like that anyone, even her, especially her, had been inside his head.

She nodded, smiling wickedly.

“Well, I heard yours, too. I guess it’s only fair.” He fixed his steely eyes on hers, satisfied to see the grin fall from her face. “I think it happened because we were wearing the ring at the same time. And I was thinking about that night. I suppose we became connected.”

“Oh, wow . . .” She cast her eyes down. She sat in silence for a few minutes. Finally, she took a deep breath and began to absently twirl her hair around her finger. “You know, I don’t even think I knew what I was thinking that night. I was so confused. But the ring showed me. It made that night so clear . . . And it was scary.”

“Yeah, I know. To think that you were inside my head . . . It’s hard to accept. I never show my weakness to anyone. Weakness is for commoners. Not for–"

“Future Death Eaters?” she said.

She was taken aback by the hurt in his eyes.

“I. Am. Not. Going. To. Be. A. Death. Eater.” He spoke slowly.

She winced at the anger she could feel emanating from him. Its weight beared down on her, suffocating. Smothering.

“My father may have chosen that path. He may have even chosen it for me. But I would die before bowing down to the so-called Dark Lord.” His voice was now low and cold. His pain was evident to her. She could almost hear his cries echoing in the stone corridor.

After a moment of stunned silence, she whispered, “You are in pain.”

He gazed up at her questioningly.

“You hide it. No one can see that you have pain. They would use it against you.” Suddenly, it was all clear to her.

“How do you know that?”

“Because I live it.”

“Enlighten me.”

She took a deep breath and looked at the floor.“Since this summer, I think I’ve tried to shut out emotion. I hid it behind sarcasm. Because when I faced it, it was so painful.”

She stopped talking and looked at Draco. He seemed to be deep in thought.

“What are you so pensive about?”

“I was wondering if the ring would let you send me that memory.” She bit her lip and he immediately felt guilty. “I mean, if you wanted to. If you think it might help you feel better.”

She looked down at the floor, considering it. If I show him, I’ll have someone. Really have someone. He would know the pain. But his father probably had something to do with it. You’ve made it this far without anyone else. But it’s been so lonely.

She looked back up at him. “Do you think it would work?”

“Well,” he said slowly. “The rules are that the giver has to know about the memory. And, in a way, I do.”

“I want to try it.”