That Day

I couldn't bear to stay in that hot, stuffy room for one more moment. I had just graduated from Hogwarts for Merlin's Sake! I wasn't adept at all at staying home after extremely important and life changing days. And I wasn't about to learn how to, so that's how I ended up apprehended in this little bar only a quick and subtle drive away from the Burrow. Twenty year old men sat around in the booths next to blondes who looked as if they belonged in Maxim or Vogue. At age seventeen, seeing someone so perfect definitely produced some sort of inferiority complex, and I could feel the bubble forming around me as I watched these men slobber over them.

I let the bubble engulf me whole before I ordered something to drink. It seemed odd ordering a Coke in a place where everyone ordered martinis, beers, or any alcoholic beverage.

"Rum and Coke?" the bartender asked.

"No, just a Coke," I said. He shrugged. Obviously, he didn't care. Neither did I, actually, because I was too busy staring off at the pairings of blondes and brunette guys that were now trying to be discreet and scooting into their booths much farther than before. At one booth the blonde vixen leaned next to a guy with jet black hair who vaguely reminded me of Harry (who was spending the summer with Ron and Hermione in France) and began nibbling on his ear. I observed as she slid her tongue around the lobe, being careful not to let it slide in. She was just playing with him, tantalizing him, and the guy was turning into jelly as I watched. The blonde continued to play with ear and I tuned out the rest of the bar as best as I could to hear what the blonde began saying.

It wasn't very clear so I just continued staring, and the man pushed the blonde in the booth, soon disappearing atop her. I wondered if anyone was watching them like I had been.

The bartender returned with my Coke and said, "No rum, correct?"

I smiled, a signal which he assumed correctly and walked to another person yelling his name next to me. I stood up from my stool by the bar and went in search of a booth on my own, taking swig after swig of my Coke. The first swig I took I let linger in my mouth for a while, testing it, tasting it, for any odd substance that the guy might've slipped into the drink. The Coke passed.

Finally I located a booth which had been shaded under a large fake plant that was overflowing atop it. I couldn't help but laugh at the tacky thing. It was hideous, but I was already bored walking around the bar watching as the blondes received all the action and the brunettes lined up in stools by the bar, single but not bitter so I sat down.

I was about to doze off when I noticed something a bit off-color, something not right about the bar. It was quiet, so quiet you could hear a pin drop. There was no movement whatsoever, and I saw from the corner of my eye every girl stand up and quickly pat themselves down, smooth their hair and smile the cheapest looking smile I'd allow my eye to see.

I turned completely to see what was going on. Someone had arrived, but it was hard to tell who it was because every single woman in the restaurant had run like mad to the person. They completely took him over like a bunch of tiny ants crawling over a dead body. It was gross that these girls were throwing themselves at this mystery guy.

Then all eyes were on me. Well, the men who were left sitting dumbfounded, they were staring at me. Their eyes read the same: Aren't you going to run to him too?

I stared back at them all and shrugged. I didn't know this guy; I wasn't about to throw myself all over him. I turned back in my booth and sat so that my back was leaning against the farthest corner of the booth. I was underage in a bar. Hadn't anyone noticed? Had I matured that much since my days at Hogwarts? I must have, I thought, otherwise the bartender would've asked me for ID - even if I had just ordered a damn coke.

The bar was still quiet, the only sounds coming from the girls giggling and flipping their hair wickedly. Nobody was actually talking and I was beginning to get used to the quiet. I was falling back into my dazed phase, where I was about to fall asleep, until the mystery man spoke.

He spoke in a long drawl, but I couldn't recognize his voice well because I was half-asleep.

"Girls, girls," he was saying, "there's plenty to go around. I'll take the brunette's first." He paused, and I supposed he was checking out the bar for any girls who hadn't come to him. For a moment I thought he was seeing through the seats, but he continued to speak. "There's a booth back there."

I crawled, still half-asleep, to the edge of the booth to try and see where he would sit. I was nervous that he and all his brunettes would sit in my booth, because I knew from where he was standing that it looked empty.

Unfortunately, my fears were confirmed. I heard the shuffling of feet headed my way so I was as quick as I could be to leave the booth before he and his girls got there. When I'd gotten out of the booth I walked with my head down to avoid any or all eye contact but suddenly I was jerked backward by somebody's body.

I felt their body stay stiff but mine wobbled, and I felt like the weak seventeen year old I'd been my last year at Hogwarts. I was suddenly aware of my weakness, my arms flailing backward like mad, my feet falling out of step, and before I knew it I had fallen smack on my bum, the mystery man laughing. I was awake now, fully awake, and I couldn't mistake that laugh.

"Weasley?" he said in an incredulous tone. I cursed myself for being so stupid, for not being able to know who all the girls would go insane for. How could I have been so stupid? I stood up crookedly on my heels and suddenly felt small in front of him and all his ladies. I had become tall and quite lanky, and these girls were curvaceous and at a normal height. I then realized I was the only one in the bar with red hair.

"Malfoy," I said in my most threatening tone. The bar was now bustling with noise, but Malfoy and his brunette's didn't budge until he made some signal with his hand and they scuttled off looking disappointed.

"Weasley," Malfoy said now, matter-of-factly.

I didn't have time for this. I hadn't seen Malfoy since my brother's graduation. Rumor had it he had declined his father's request to join the Death Eaters against his will and was on the run. That didn't look remotely true as he stood there, fully grown, and changed, then the last time I saw him. The Dark Lord was not in full swing, having been beaten by Harry, Ron, and Hermione in my sixth year. However, a true fact going around was that the Death Eaters were few, but the few that they were (including Malfoy's father) were working hard to become as successful as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

I tried to side step Malfoy to leave and was successful. I was surprised he hadn't tried to stop me. He lived to torture us Weasleys. More so than Harry, actually.

The moment I left the bar, the wind whipped my face, and I suddenly realized the slinky clinging black dress I was wearing was too thin as he fluttered around me. I pulled my hair from the up do I had in it and let it fall down to the center of my back. The wind swirled around me, entering my dress through the open back or under the flutter of the skirt, and I couldn't stop myself from shivering.

My shoes were killing me, so I walked to a nearby bench and pulled them off. I sat there, suddenly tired again, holding my black open-toed shoes. I could feel goosebumps spurting up from my skin and I placed my shoes next to me and held myself tight. I was cold, and I was bored. I had left the Burrow trying to lessen my boredom, perhaps meet somebody knew, but I was back to where I started. Bored. And lonely.

I rested my chin on my knees and pulled my legs closer to me. I closed my eyes and let the wind whip and crack behind me. My whole being floating around me, but the solidity staying put. My thoughts were swirling around and crashing into each other. All about Ron and expectant Hermione in France, about Harry almost like a third-wheel, why I hadn't went along with them. All about everything in general, even about Malfoy, and his obsession with making us miserable. I wasn't sure why these thoughts had decided to creep into my mind, but I allowed it, and suddenly I didn't want to go anywhere. I wanted to live on the bench with my soul swirling like a vortex around me and my thoughts all jumbled and confused.

"Well, we meet again, Weasley," drawled a voice from in front of me. It was Malfoy. I hadn't even realized he'd followed me. I hadn't paid attention to his footsteps as they followed calmly behind me. How had he always been so secretive in his ways?

"I was just leaving, so feel free to have a seat," I said, fully aware of the fact that I didn't want to leave, that Malfoy was making me. Then, for that moment, I hated him more than anything. It was like he'd pushed a certain button.

"Don't go," he said, but his voice sounded different, distant almost.

Slowly I began to stand. "What is it?" I asked.

"Wouldn't you like to know," he said. He still hadn't sit down.

I turned around, bare feet on the ground. The ground was freezing.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" I spat his name as if it were phlegm that had built in my throat. "Come back to make fun of us Weasleys? Make our lives miserable again? I'm not standing for that stupid shit again. I'm through. I'm well and old enough to walk away from you because unlike in Hogwarts, I can leave." When I said it, it didn't sound so stupid.

Malfoy stepped forward. "You," he said, "you were just the person I was looking for."

He slid his hand down my right arm and I felt a chill spread throughout my body. His touch was something I had never felt before, and I didn't want him to stop.

"I-I was?" I asked, gaining that scared voice I had at age eleven, when Tom Riddle had revealed who he truly was and sucked half my life out of me.

His hand never stopped caressing my right arm. I wondered if this was why every girl was all over him. How many girls he'd actually done this to. Suddenly, I was disgusted.

"Let go of me, Malfoy," I said, trying to get away from him. It wasn't too hard, because his touch was light. When I was successful, I grabbed my shoes and began to walk away.

With each step against the cold, hard, concrete ground, a surge went through my body. A surge of desolation. I hadn't felt that desolation since before Malfoy had appeared. Even as I stood on that ground with his fingertips grazing my arm, I wasn't so cold, so empty and hollow.

It started drizzling.

I could hear the pat pat of Draco's shoes behind me, finally stopping when I felt his breath, hot and heavy, behind me. I continued walking, the rain becoming harder and harder, my footsteps becoming faster and faster until I broke into a run.

In the process, I'd dropped my shoes in the gutter because the rain had made my grip slippery just as I was crossing the street. I could feel the drops, thick and heavy crash against my face and ride down, down my neck, and into my dress. Soon the dress was soaked, I was soaked, and Malfoy was still following me, having broken into a run just after I had.

My breath was harsh and eager, but I couldn't keep running. I was so exhausted. All I wanted to do was go out to a bar and have a good time, perhaps get that nap I almost kept having in that bar.

Malfoy grabbed my shoulder and spun me around. Before I could protest, he had pushed his lips onto mine. He was kissing me like he had been waiting for this moment his whole life, like his life depended on it. He pushed his lips onto mine even harder and forced his tongue. I had no idea what I was supposed to be doing. This was my first kiss. Here in the rain, with Draco Malfoy.

All I could do was let his tongue linger into my mouth, exploring it, counting my teeth, and I slipped my tongue into his mouth. We stood there, kissing each other like we were married, for a few minutes, until Draco finally pulled away. My eyes were still closed, but it wasn't in that romantic type of way you see in movies. It was because I had no idea he had pulled away. When I opened my eyes, I looked up into Draco's, almost asking him, Why?

He looked down at me, and out of the blue, I remembered when I was fifteen in Hogwarts, Draco sixteen. I remembered something I had promised to erase from my memory. Something I hadn't even thought of when I first saw Draco in the bar. And then I knew the answer to my question of Why.

The day was bright and sunny, and I was stuck in Snape's damn dungeon for my detention. Snape hadn't showed up but I couldn't leave because when I tried his door nearly knocked me ten feet backwards, so I just sat and stared at the clock. My time would be up in an hour. There was nothing to but sit, or I could walk around.

About five minutes into my last hour, the door rattled. For a second I actually thought Snape would end my detention early, that he would allow me leave. Instead, I got Draco Malfoy, standing smugly by the door, wearing that same goddamn smirk.

"What are you doing here, Weasley?" he asked, his eyes reduced to half their size as he eyed me suspiciously.

"Detention," I said, bored with him. Just he day before he had challenged Ron to a duel and tried out the hefty Killing Curse on him. Luckily, Ron only sprouted a broken wrist. Then, instinctively, after remembering that, I looked at his wand hand to see if he was carrying his wand.

"I have it, yes," he drawled, as he watched my eyes wander. He knew too well, of all my fears. Having been in the Chamber of Secrets itself for hours, I became somewhat of a local celebrity at Hogwarts, everyone asking for the story. Eventually, all my secrets were out, how Riddle had managed to captivate me, render me lifeless, and my biggest fears at the time. One being the Killing Curse.

"Oh," I said. At the time was when I had hit my growth spurt and was taller than Ron, but not Draco. He walked next to me and sat down. "What are you doing here?" I asked.

"I was bored at dinner," he said, shrugging.

"Were you?" I asked.

"Yes," he responded, and he shot me a glare, something that said Is this how you Weasleys communicate at home?

"If you don't mind," I began, "it would do me a lot of good if you left. Now. I need to concentrate on the idiotic clock before I can leave. Snape's charmed the door so I can't leave."

"I just came in," Draco sneered.

I was embarrassed. "That doesn't mean that I will be allowed out. You Slytherins must have some sort of code where you're allowed anywhere anyone else isn't."

"Not necessarily. Knowing the counter curses helps us get around."

Again, I blushed. "Oh," my little voice said.

"So," Draco said. "Are you done yet?"

"With what?"

"Detention," he scoffed. "Haven't you been paying attention?"

"Haven't you?" I accused. "I just said I was waiting."

"You're pushing buttons, Weasley. I'd stop right there if I were you."

Oh god, I was sick of his superiority!

"Oh shut up, jerk," I said. I had no time to take in what was happening, just that within seconds he slammed the door shut with his want and had me against the wall, his fingers wringing tightly around my neck. For some reason, I wasn't scared. "He's got strength too," I said sarcastically.

He just tightened his grip. My breath was getting short and shallow. Now I was getting scared. "Stop," I said, but calmly.

"Shut your filthy trap, bitch," he said, venomously. He let go of my neck and turned around, stretching out his hand as if holding my long giraffe-like neck was hard work. "Your neck is too bony."

I was massaging it so I ignored him for the moment. Then I said, "It gets me by."

"Still being sarcastic, Weasley?" he asked, turning around. I had my hands on my hips boldly. For some reason, standing up to Malfoy gave me strength, it emboldened me.

"I suppose, yes," I said in a bored tone. It was getting damp and muggy in the dungeon. I glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes left.

I pulled off my robe and sweater so that I was only in the blouse and skirt. The blouse looked terrible on my figure, which was similar to a ruler, not a curve in sight. Sometimes I despised Hermione for this reason. She was very curvaceous.

Draco was staring at me. I couldn't read his eyes though.

"What?" I asked.

"What would you do if I kissed you?" he asked.

I was taken aback, but I didn't break the gaze because of it. I was sort of embarrassed to, standing there in my blouse and loosened tie. I suddenly felt naked around him.

"In all seriousness?" I forced myself to ask.

He was looking at me differently, and as if reading his facial expressions wasn't hard enough, this expression was completely unreadable. It was sort of hungry, but maybe it was sort of angry, or happy...what the hell was it?!

"Cross my heart," he said easily.

"Hope to die?" I asked.

"Stick my wand in both my eyes," he said, smirking and taking his own robe and sweater now.

"I'd probably punch you, because kissing you would be worse than six years of torture, insults, and empty threats," I said. I was surprised at my own answer as well as Draco, but I was sort of proud of myself. I was telling the truth, at least...right?

He stood put, hands now working quickly to take off his tie. After he did so, he opened the top two buttons revealing the tank top he had on under. I hated to admit it, but since nobody was going to hear my thoughts, I did: he looked amazing. He was absolutely gorgeous, more gorgeous than I remember Harry being. His gray eyes were different, different from the green, brown, or even blue of the Hogwarts pupils' eyes. They had a different message. Mysterious but subtle. Real but distant. They were suddenly worth so much more than what I had credited to Harry. At sixteen, he was no longer pale. He still had angular, pointed features, but they suited him more, and his skin was darkening so that he was no longer the "albino" kid Ron had nicknamed him. His body was built more like a man in their mid-twenties, no longer childish and unformed. He was lean, and...

He was perfect.

What was I thinking?! I glanced at the clock. My time was up.

"My time's up," I said, gathering my things and heading for the door. Unfortunately, Draco grabbed my arm and pinned me to the wall.

"Would you really punch me?" he asked, pulling a loose strand of hair behind my ear.

"I'd do it now if I wasn't pinned so closely to this wall," I said, smirking. I thought I looked cute, trying to get away from him in a subtle way.

Draco leaned forward, so close that I could feel his stomach press against mine, and he whispered into my ear, "I will," his breath was hot. "I will get you, Virginia Weasley." And he was gone.

As I stared at Draco, the rain pattering down on, around, and between us, I saw that perfection again. The perfection that had drawn me to him and vice versa that day in detention.

"I got you, Virginia Weasley."