Jigsaw

Chapter 10: In Draco’s Room

"Are you sure it’s alright for me to be in here?"

Draco leads her by the hand through the door, into his darkened room.

"Nope," he replies, pointing his wand at the ceiling, causing light to flood the room.

The room is full of deep green velvet covered furniture. She glances around, obviously impressed.

Her eyes fall on his bed, which is large, with a silver canopy over it, and made up with black satin sheets.

"Satin sheets," she says, smirking. "How did I guess?"

"You’re just that good, I suppose." He gives her one of his smiles, the ones she is still getting used to.

The ones that make her feel slightly weak-kneed.

"Yeah," she says, smiling despite herself. "I guess I am."

She stands in the middle of the room while he mills about, straightening things on various shelves. Things that look dangerous and rather creepy.

She is running her hand over the black satin sheets when he says,"Oh, yeah, I meant to return this to you."

She looks at him to see him holding her red, leather book of Edgar Allen Poe’s works and wrinkles her nose.

"How long have you had that?"

"A while," he says, tossing it to her. "Interesting bit of reading. Perhaps not all Muggle writing is rubbish. But don’t let anyone know I said that. My father would have a fit."

He sits on the bed and beckons for her to come sit beside him. Blushing slightly, she does so.

As she sinks onto the bed beside him, his hand finds hers and they both smile, somewhat sheepishly.

"I still don’t know why you care about me,"she says, as he runs his finger along her jawline.

"But that no longer matters, does it?"

Closing her eyes, she replies lazily.

"Nope."

--

It is early the next morning when he wakes up. With the first grogginess of morning, he doesn’t remember why the bed feels so warm. Until he looks down and to his right. That is when he sees her.

She is curled up beside him, one hand under her pillow, beneath her head, and the other resting on his chest, rising and falling as he breathes.

She isn’t wearing her school robes, and the white tee shirt she is wearing shows her arms. Criss crossed with pale pink scars and angry red cuts.

He turns to face her, her hand falling to rest beside her face and lets his eyes run over her scars, old and new. Over her shoulders and up to her face.

Anyone who told you Ginny Weasley was plain looking would be lying through their teeth. Even he, as a Malfoy, would never claim such a thing. When it came to beauty, Malfoys never lied.

Her pale pink lips are parted slightly, revealing a glimmer of white teeth. Her eyes are closed, her long lashes fluttering over the tops of her cheeks, where there is a dusting of freckles that stretches over the bridge of her nose. Her expression is one of total peace.

But then, suddenly, it isn’t. She is drawing her eyebrows together, biting her lip.

And then, without warning, tears are flowing down her cheeks, and she is whispering a single name.

"Ron."

He shakes her gently, and watches as her tear-filled eyes flutter open. She looks wildly around, wiping her face as if she does this every morning.

Which, for all he knows, she probably does.

And in that moment, she looks more fragile to him than anything he has ever seen in his life.

And, for reasons he still cannot discern, his only thought is protecting her.