Some Days I Wish I Were in Slytherin

Chapter 16

Draco approached the door to his Grandfather's library with unusual arrogance. The past few days he had been walking as if on a cloud of air. Not even the thought of being called to speak to his grandfather could upset him. Not after what had happened between him and Ginny. He hummed a nameless little tune under his breath and smiled. It felt as if he wore an invisible suit of armor. At mealtimes, he would push his food around on his plate and hear his grandfather making his usual sly remarks and baseless accusations about his perceived deficiencies, yet the words slid off him like silk; all because of her, because she was his. The memory of how much of her was his brought a suggestion of a smirk to his lips. He knew her now. Better than Potter ever would. Potter. His eyes gleamed, and a childish glee ran through him at the thought of how the boy-who-lived would take the news. He couldn't wait to kiss Ginny in front of Potter and her insufferable brother. To kiss her hard on the lips, with everyone watching, so hard her knees would grow weak and she would have to put her hands on his chest to stay upright, her palms fluttering like timid birds against his cloak. A pleasurable jolt jerked through him at the thought, but he pushed it from his mind as he knocked sharply on the library door and walked inside at his grandfather's summons.

His grandfather was ensconced in a leather arm chair, a heavy volume of history in his lap. He looked up as Draco entered and gestured to the chair opposite. "Sit down, boy."

"No thank you, I prefer to stand," Draco said. The hatred he felt for the old man flared deep inside his being, yet he kept his face impassive.

Julian's eyes grew cold. He looked back at his book, turned to the next page, and resumed reading. "I said, sit."

Draco crossed to the chair and sank into it, contouring his body into the leather as if it was a throne and he had meant to sit in it all along. He sat facing his grandfather for a few moments and tried to control his angry clenching hands, distracting himself with memories of Ginny's infectious laugh and the feel of her silky supple skin against his own. The thoughts were so intoxicating he didn't notice his grandfather had stopped reading until the old man set the book aside and looked up at him with a detached expression.

"What's the matter with you, boy? You've been acting rather odd."

"Nothing's the matter, Grandfather," Draco said.

"Is it that Weasley girl?" Julian asked. "If she's giving you problems I can speak with her."

"She's not giving me problems." The smirk came back to his lips and he dusted invisible dust off his trousers as a particularly shameless thought came to mind. "Quite the opposite as a matter of fact."

"Good." Julian took off his glasses. "I'm glad you two are becoming so ... close. It seems my little chat with her was a success."

"Chat?" Draco asked. He felt the blood drain from his face, and his mouth becoming dry, but he kept his voice even.

"Oh, yes, didn't I mention that?" Julian said. "I spoke with her a few weeks ago about my little plan for the two of you. She seemed quite understanding of what was involved and only too eager to assist me." He looked Draco in the eye and smiled. A cold smile, like the one Draco's father used to give his mother when she was particularly happy, right before he would find fault with something and fly into a rage just to make her cry. "I've been looking in the genealogy books. I see no reason why the two of you shouldn't wed. The closest you are is fourth cousins, through your mothers, so there are no legal difficulties involved. Now you only have to convince Arthur his daughter has found a love match. I have great plans for the two of you. She will bring this family back into the good graces of the Ministry, and we will reward her appropriately."

Draco tried to focus on what his grandfather was saying, trying to make sense of it. Surely he must have misunderstood something. His hands were clammy, and he could feel a strange pricking sensation behind his eyes. He forced himself to look at his grandfather. "You spoke to her about this. When?"

"The day of that incident at the Wall," Julian said.

"But that was three weeks ago." He found himself getting up and pacing around the room. "Why didn't she say anything?"

"Because I told her not to, I thought it best if I told you, when the time was right."

The look on his grandfather's face was one of the utmost indifference, and he fought the urge to snatch things up and fling them at him. The old man was dragging this information out on purpose to torment him. He wondered if he dare believe him, or if he was just trying to incite some kind of confrontation. He clenched his lips together. "Why wait till now to tell me?"

Julian arched his eyebrow condescendingly. "Because I assume you finally consummated your relationship based on how you've been acting." His lips twitched in an amused smile. "Or maybe I'm wrong about that."

Draco paused in front of a narrow bookshelf and began to run his fingers over the tooled spines of the books, trying to appear uninterested. "I still don't understand why you're telling me this," he said. "What difference does it make?" He pulled out a book and, with shaking fingers, examined the leather-bound copy of Hamlet. His heart was pounding in his chest and he couldn't meet his grandfather's eyes.

"The difference is that I want you to know where things stand, Draco. This is not all tea and biscuits. This is a business arrangement, one that is beneficial to the both of you. It is not a love match."

"Don't say that," Draco shouted. He hugged the book to his chest and faced his grandfather. Outraged denial boiled up inside him, and he didn't even try to stop the words. "Ginny loves me. She gave herself to me."

"Oh, Draco," Julian shook his head sadly, and gave him a sympathetic look, that was all too patently false. "Poor dear boy, did you actually think that?" He made as if to pat Draco on the shoulder.

Draco stepped back, feeling as if he'd been struck by lightning. "She loves me," he insisted.

"Did she tell you that?" Julian asked.

Draco stared at him blankly. With everything that had happened between them, they had never said the words. He had just assumed she felt as he did. A pain shot through him, and the book fell from his unfeeling fingers, landing with a soft thud on the carpet. His grandfather made a soft clucking noise under his breath.

"Think, my boy. You weren't her first, were you? I've done my research. I know what she is even if the rest of the world does not. She is a member of a poor but respected family with a hunger for something more. She isn't afraid to use whatever she must to get that."

The words cut deep, as if they were a physical assault. She loved him, she had to. He drew himself together and shook his head in negation. "You're wrong, Grandfather. She loves me. I know it."

"You've fallen in love with her, haven't you?" Julian laughed, his grey eyes lighting up with barely contained malice. "Oh, this is a fascinating turn of events. I ask you to seduce her, and it ends up she has been the one leading you on all the while." He sneered. "She will be more than a suitable partner for you, Draco, and at least there will be one other member of this family who is not a fool. You need someone with her strength behind you. You are nothing but a spoiled child, too used to riding on the coat-tails of your father. She will help lead the Malfoys into a new era, and in return she will be rewarded like a queen." His eyes narrowed, and he carefully picked up the volume of Hamlet, gestured towards Draco with it, and quoted, "And keep you in the rear of your affection, out of the shot and danger of desire. The chariest maid is prodigal enough, if she unmasks her beauty to the moon. "

Draco raised his eyes to his grandfather and fought to keep his rage inside. "Doubt thou the stars are fire; Doubt that the sun doth move; Doubt truth to be a liar; But never doubt I love," he replied.

His grandfather set down the book and applauded lightly, a soft sarcastic patter of hands. "Oh nicely done, Draco. I'm glad to see Lucius did not entirely neglect your education." He went over to the brandy decanter and poured himself a half-full snifter. He took a thoughtful sip. "This is not about love, my boy. It is about reciprocity. If you want to share her bed, please, do so, but don't spout off about love in my presence. You do not know the meaning of the word, and I assure you it does not figure into her plans. She knows what she is; I've seen it in her eyes the past few days. For all her sweet appearance she is nothing more than a whore, being paid for her services, whether conjugal or other."

A low growl echoed somewhere in his chest. Before he could stop himself, he struck the glass out of his grandfather's hand, grabbed a handful of his green silk robes, and pinned him against the book case. His grandfather's eyes were strangely fearful, and for the first time Draco realized they were the same height. He had a mild sensation of vertigo, which was quickly replaced by a feeling of freedom he had never known.

He leaned closer to his grandfather. "Never call her that again." He released his grandfather's robe and walked out without another word.

Julian's laugh followed him out into the hallway, low and mocking.

The rough-hewn flagstones echoed under his feet, and although he desperately wanted to talk to Ginny, he found himself walking in the opposite direction from her inn, trying to clear his head and sort through his jumbled thoughts. Under their own volition, his legs brought him to the bridge. He had come here often since that first time, come here and stared at the water, trying to figure out these new feelings which were growing inside of him. It had been a struggle. The fact that Ginny was poor and a Weasley did not escape him. The thought of her smug, idiotic brothers and her addled, hopelessly noble minded father did not help the situation either. Hours would go by like minutes as he had stood silently, debating whether the way his heart leapt when she smiled at him meant anything at all.

He thought he had lost her the night he had thrown the figurine at her. He had expected her to storm out of the room and never come back, to scream obscenities at him, to strike him back, but never what had happened. That night it had all come to a head, and he knew that what he felt was more than lust, and in the confused reaches of his mind he'd wondered - was this love? She had shown him compassion, had forgiven him, had made him see there was a way of life that did not involve him becoming a fiend like his father. The knowledge that he could turn out like Lucius was still there, just beneath the surface, rotting and festering like a gangrenous limb, but he felt it growing smaller all the time, at least where she was concerned. He still looked down on those around him, got pleasure in causing small hurts to all and sundry with his quick wit, but the urge vanished when he was around her. Instead, he thought of holding her hand, of kissing her, of making her smile. He derived great pleasure from buying her pretty clothes or jewelry and knowing she was wearing them just for him - because of him.

A fish splashed in the stream and brought his attention back to the present. Night was descending, the blue haze of twilight covering the landscape like a shroud. He directed his steps to Ginny's hotel. He had to see her, had to find out what this meant. In the lobby, he turned away from the stairs and went out into the courtyard. There was a bench hidden amongst the trees where he could sit and watch Snape's window unobserved. A narrow sliver of room was visible through the barely cracked French doors, and he could see Ginny sitting on the bed, deeply engrossed in a book, her flame red hair tousled softly around her face like some glimmering, golden angelic veil. He had sat here watching them many nights. At first it was just curiosity, but it slowly became a desperate desire, an all-consuming obsession to know what they were doing. To make sure there was only research going on in that chamber in the dead of night.

Of course the idea that Ginny would find Snape attractive was preposterous. She had said so herself. Still, he couldn't help but feel a little nagging doubt some nights when he watched them. He couldn't hear anything of course. Snape, chary bastard that he was, had cast some kind of silencing charm. Not that he ever saw anything untoward; their actions were beyond reproach. He would see Ginny reading or writing, Snape stirring a potion in the background, speaking about something in that undemonstrative way he had where he wouldn't even move his hands. Sometimes he would be showing her some kind of spell, and it bothered him a little that his professor, the Slytherin's professor, would be showing interest in a Gryffindor, even if it was her.

Movement in the window caught his attention, and he saw Ginny close her book and sit up straighter on the bed. Snape was behind her at a table, chopping potions ingredients and talking. He wondered what they were doing together. Why would Snape show all this interest in her? His heart beat a little faster as he saw Ginny pull her hair up off her neck and rub one of her shoulders with her free hand. Snape said something to her, and she laughed then tossed the book on the bed. What could they be saying? He cursed his inability to hear what was going on in the room and then cursed again when he saw Snape walk over to the bed and sit down on the edge.

The two of them were not together often outside of Snape's room, so he had little evidence of anything besides these stilted, half viewed interactions. Sometimes though, he imagined he saw a little something in Snape's eyes. Not that he blamed him of course, he felt the same way when he looked at Ginny, but it didn't silence the little jealous voice inside of him. That voice became a roar as Snape reached out and took Ginny's hand. He would kill the bastard. How dare he? A surge of outrage shot though him as Snape ran his fingers along her wrist and rolled up her sleeve with his foul hands. The gesture seemed strangely intimate. Why would she let Snape touch her? He would have expected her to recoil. His eyes widened when he saw Snape roll up his own sleeve and gesture at his arm, where, from this distance what looked like a giant ink stain mottled the skin. He was showing her his mark. Draco let out a little gasp of shock and quickly stifled it. Jealousy faded into revulsion as he saw Ginny look at it, touch it briefly, and then touch her own arm. She glanced up at Snape and asked him a question. The expression on her face wasn't horrified at all. It was curious, clinical. The thought chilled him. She knew Snape was a death eater. She knew and she didn't care. Snape was showing her his mark.

Frantic thoughts skittered around in his brain as he stared at the scene in front if him. Snape was showing Ginny his mark. Ginny knew he was a death eater. Ginny didn't care. They were always together. They were comfortable together. He was teaching her. He was teaching her.

Draco closed his eyes as the thought completed itself in his head. "He was teaching her to be a death eater."

He staggered to his feet, wrathful blood pounding in his veins. He had to know, had to find out what was going on. His legs felt unsteady underneath him as he made his way inside and up the stairs. He splayed his hand flat against the door for a moment, gaining strength from the wood and organizing his thoughts, and then knocked.

There was a brief wait, until Professor Snape opened the door and looked at him impassively. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy. Can I help you?"

Draco's eyes raked over the potions master. The one man he had oft respected above all others, but whom now he could only hate for what he was doing to Ginny. "I need to speak with Ginny," he said.

"Miss Weasley." Snape turned and looked behind him. "Mr. Malfoy needs to speak with you." He opened the door and waved Draco inside. "I hope it's important, Malfoy. We are in the middle of a potion." There was a potion, bright green in color, bubbling on a long low table at the back of the room.

He went into the room, waited for Snape to close the door, and looked at both of them. They were watching him with expectant eyes; Snape's hooded and concealed, Ginny's thoughtful.

"I know what you're doing," he accused them without preamble. He gave Snape a defiant stare. "You're convincing her to join him. Aren't you?"

"Spying again, Malfoy?" Snape sneered from behind his cauldron. "I must remember to put a concealing charm on the window. I had no idea my research was so interesting to you."

"It is when it concerns her." Draco turned from him and crossed to Ginny. "Ginny, why are you doing this?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "I can't tell you that, Draco. I have my reasons."

"But I thought you hated him. I don't ... Why?" Draco raised his fist in frustration then helplessly uncurled his fingers and cupped the side of her face in his palm.

She reached up and touched his hand. "You wouldn't understand."

Snape cleared his throat. "As moving as all this is, Malfoy, this does not concern you. It would be best if you don't ask questions. This is something that would be very dangerous ... for you to pursue further."

"I won't tell anyone," Draco said. "I just want to know why."

Ginny turned her eyes to Snape. "Professor, let me speak to him. Maybe I can make things clear."

"If you must." Snape's features were twisted in disgust. "But do it quickly. I do not have time for young love." He stirred the contents of the cauldron, which flared a brief, brilliant yellow, and lowered the flame underneath. "I will leave you two alone for a short while. But first." He pulled out his wand and held it out to him. "I can't trust your word, alone, Malfoy. You must vow your secrecy. Either that, or I will have Miss Weasley place a memory charm on you. I assure you she is quite good with them."

Draco stretched out a shaking hand and gripped Snape's wand. "I vow to keep this knowledge secret." A painful jolt went up into his arm, settling into his chest, and he felt a warm gooey sensation in his throat.

"Very well." Snape nodded with satisfaction and looked at Ginny. "Do not tell him anything significant, Weasley, or there will be consequences to pay."

A light flush colored Ginny's cheeks, and Draco imagined he saw a tiny look of fear in her eyes. She merely nodded, though, and Snape swept out of the room after admonishing her not to neglect his potion while he was gone. Draco waited until the door shut behind him and then spun around angrily.

"What are you playing at?" He grabbed Ginny's arm and hauled her to the bed. Her eyes dilated with panic, and he felt a pang when he realized she was afraid of him; afraid of him, yet not of a Death Eater. The irony of the situation did not escape him. He pushed her into a sitting position then kneeled at her feet, taking her hands in both of his. "Tell me."

She looked away for a moment, and he could have sworn he saw tears gathering in her eyes. "I can't tell you everything," she replied. "Only that I have a reason for doing this."

"For bargaining your soul?" he asked. Fury coursed though him and he clenched her hands more tightly. "How can you be so stupid? How long has this been going on?"

"Since before I came here," she replied. He sensed a ring of truth in her words, but felt she was still hiding something. "It isn't what it looks like, Draco, I promise you." She scooted closer to the edge of the bed. The movement brought to mind the picture of Snape holding her hand and stroking the soft skin of her arm.

He dropped her hands in disgust. "Oh, believe me; I know what it looks like. I just don't know why. You have always been clear on the fact you thought that my father was a fool for following the Dark Lord. This isn't you. This isn't the girl I know."

Her voice turned suddenly harsh, and a fire he'd never seen before came into her eyes. It reminded him eerily of Snape. "You don't know me as well as you think you do." He stared at her intently and wondered how he had not seen this side of her before. Her soft ivory skin was the same, but it was as if a different person wore it - a person who looked as if they were tortured and angry at the world. He thought how much control it must take to keep this hidden and wondered what had caused it. Was the laughing, graceful girl he thought he loved still in there?

"I thought I did," he told her. He wanted to scream, but he settled for smashing his hands together in frustration. He calmed himself and tried to help her understand what he had only barely grasped himself. "Ginny, listen to me. I love you." Her eyes widened at the words, and she tried to stop him from speaking, but he put his fingers over her lips and brashly rushed ahead. "Let me speak. I love you. I've come to realize that, and I do not want to see you destroyed. I saw what the Dark Lord did to my father, Ginny. It consumed him. I don't want that to happen to you."

Her eyes turned bleak, and he noticed the little shadows under them, two pale blue bruises like the vanishing dusk outside. He took her face in his hands and ran his thumbs over them. She closed her eyelids and sighed - a sad little sigh - and turned her face away. "It's too late," she whispered.

"It is never too late." He forced her to look at him. "You believed in me. You saw me for a boy and not just a Malfoy. No one else has ever done that." He stopped as a horrible thought occurred to him. "Or was that all a lie too?"

She lifted one small, cold hand and placed it over his. "That was not a lie," she said. "I believe you can be a great man." Her lips trembled as she spoke, and her expression was sincere. Tears filled her brown eyes, and he could see her struggling with the emotions that flickered deep inside them. Guilt, self loathing, but also longing, as if, he felt, she wanted desperately to be free from something.

His rage dissipated. He felt a twisting in his chest and realized it was his heart, aching for her, for whatever she was going through. If someone had told him two months ago that he would be kneeling in front of a Weasley with his heart in his hands he would have laughed at them. Now he only wanted to keep her safe. She believed in him. "Ginny," he asked. "Tell me the truth. Do you love me?"

Her eyes were wary, hesitant. "Draco ..."

"The truth." The words caught in his throat, as his body tried to keep him from asking what he didn't want to hear.

"No," she said. His heart dropped, but then soared at her next words. "But, that doesn't mean I couldn't come to." She gave him a small smile, and her eyes grew softer but still sad. "You are someone I could love, if I let myself."

"Ginny," he whispered. "Do you mean that? If I knew someday you might love me, I would wait as long as it would take. I would do anything to prove myself to you. Anything to win you. I swear it."

She looked at him oddly. "Anything?"

It was true, he would sacrifice her life for his own if he had to, or worse. His hands shook a little, but his voice was steady. "I would join Voldemort if you asked me to."

"No!" she told him. She looked at him with a desperate intensity. "I will never ask you that. This is something I must do, but I will not let him have you as well."

"But you'd sacrifice yourself." This was beyond his comprehension. He placed one still shaky hand on her arm, almost pleadingly.

"Draco. Please, try to understand," she begged. "I have my reasons, but never doubt that I do not believe what he stands for. You know that. I approached Professor Snape for one reason and one reason alone."

"You approached him? I thought ..."

"He didn't recruit me. If anything, he was reluctant and suspicious at the beginning."

"How did you know he was a Death Eater?"

"His arm," Ginny replied. "I saw his arm one day in potions when he spilt something on his robes. I never told anyone. I approached him last year and told him if he helped me, that I would keep his secret. Once he realized I was serious, he was more than willing to recruit me."

Draco shook his head and threw his hands up in exasperation. "But I still don't understand. Why Snape?"

"He is the means to an end," she said. "Revenge, Draco." Her lips curled at the word, and a frightening expression of hatred came over her countenance, her eyes forbidding and dark. "Only the Dark Lord can help me get revenge on my greatest enemy. On someone who has hurt me more than you will ever know. I can tell you nothing more." He tried to speak but she stopped him. "I can not tell you who, but believe me, revenge is the only reason I am doing this, and this is the only way I can accomplish it."

"Ginny." He pushed her red hair back from her face with a strangely gentle hand. "You must be careful, dealing with them. I don't think you know what they are capable of. This isn't a game."

She looked at him seriously. "I know, Draco. Believe me; I know what they have done. Just please, I ask you to trust me. If you say you love me as you do. Trust me. Keep my secret."

He looked into her eyes, they were fierce and pleading, and he knew that whatever she might be leaving out, what she had told him was at its heart, truthful. No one could lie with such conviction. He reached up and drew her head down on his shoulder. "I trust you," he said softly. "I won't pretend to understand why you are doing this. I don't support it, but I trust you."

A lock of hair tickled his cheek, emitting the soft fragrance of honey. "Thank you," she said. "I promise someday to tell you everything."

His hold on her grew tighter, and he buried his face in her soft tresses. "I don't care about that. I don't need to know. Just promise you will try to love me."

"I promise," she said in a low voice. He loosened his grip and kissed first her temple and then her lips. He felt strange inside, as if he had made an irrevocable decision. As if he'd made his first decision as a man.

A cough sounded behind him, and he jerked away from Ginny and whirled around to see Professor Snape. He could still feel his hatred flaring inside and did nothing to hide the contempt in his eyes.

"As touching as this little display may be, Malfoy. I have a potion to attend to." Snape's face was twisted in a sneer, and there was an intense hatred, or, he thought, possibly resentment, in the man's black eyes he'd never seen directed at him before.

Draco nodded at him sharply, not bothering to conceal his dislike, and turned to Ginny. She was looking at Snape nervously, and he felt a strange pity in his heart that she should have to work with the man in such close capacity. Whatever her reason for joining the Dark Lord's ranks, he hoped it was worth what it might cost her. What it might cost them. A small part of him was glad he didn't have to stay alone in the room with Snape; he looked like he wanted to strike something. He crossed over to Ginny and kissed her softly on the cheek.

"I'll see you tomorrow, I'll pick you up early for the ball," he said. She nodded in response and gave him one of her sweet smiles. "Never forget," he whispered in her ear.

Snape held open the door and looked at him pointedly. He crossed the room, pausing only for a second as he passed Snape. "If anything happens to her, I kill you." He pushed by the man and went forcefully out into the hall, feeling strangely reckless for the second time that day.

**************

The door closed behind Draco with a slam, leaving Ginny and Snape looking at it with very different expressions. Snape's lips were twisted in his accustomed sneer, while Ginny's dark eyes were wide and remorseful.

"Imagine that," Snape drawled. "I never would have thought the egotistical brat had it in him." He looked over at Ginny who blinked guiltily and then coldly returned his stare. "I apologize for underestimating your ... talents." His eyes raked over her in a bold insinuating manner.

A deep angry red stained her cheeks. "That was uncalled for," she said. "I've told you, I'll do what I have to."

Snape looked at her impassively as he tried to control the unexpected anger that was raging through him. He had thought he could control this, thought he could reign in his jealousy. Not that, he told himself, he was jealous that Ginny might come to care for Malfoy. No, he was envious rather, deeply, painfully envious because he wanted to be the one at her feet, wiping away her tears and pledging his love to her.

He turned away from her and went over to his potion, hiding his emotions by pretending to inspect the simmering contents of the cauldron. It was enough that she trusted him, he reminded himself, cared for him like no one ever had. Her happiness was too important. There would be little joy for either of them in the days that lay ahead, and he knew, somehow, that Malfoy could make her happy. Malfoy could give her a life she could never have if she chose an aging potions master who was feared or hated by most of the wizarding world. He could give her a normal life with friends, a home, even children if she someday wished them. That he wanted those things with her didn't matter. Contentment must come from serving as her mentor, her teacher, her friend, as she had called him. He could ask for nothing more. It would not be fair to either of them, to long for something so impossible.

"Professor." He could hear the anger and hurt in her voice. He sensed her come up behind him, and her words grew softer. "Severus," she said. "I didn't ask for him to love me. I don't want him to."

A sharp poke of his wand, a muttered incantation, and the potion began to bubble more fiercely. "You should," he replied.

She slid her arms around his waist and sighed. "I should," she agreed. He leaned back against her and felt the tension drain from him. The effect she had on him bothered him more than he cared to think about. Her touch, her presence was like some maddeningly addictive potion. One he would have to learn to live without. He extricated himself from her embrace and with two additional waves of his wand first set the potion to cool and then closed the cracked French doors.

Ginny indicated the closed doors. "So Malfoy knows now. Satisfied?"

"Yes." He sat down stiffly on the bed and waited until she dropped into her accustomed place beside him. ""We needed to test his loyalties," he said. "I know he will not betray you now. He has sworn an oath."

"True." Ginny rested her chin on his shoulder. "So you tie him to me with bonds of love?" She put a questioning hand on his arm, causing him to pull back irritably and turn to face her.

"Don't," he said.

"What?" she asked. "I can't even touch you? Oh yes. Poor Professor Snape, so lonely, so isolated, the Gods forbid he'd ever let anyone past his hard cold shell for more than a moment." She sat up and glared at him. "Is that what this is? Do you want to shut out what we have entirely?"

He reached out and grabbed her shoulder. "Don't you dare speak to me like that."

"Or what? You'll take house points?" Her voice grew low and mocking, and her lips twisted in an eerie approximation of his own sneer. "We're not at school, Professor. A fact that I think has become only too clear to both of us." He blinked, surprised at the harsh words and reminded himself that he had taught her to be cruel.

"We will be soon," he told her. "We cannot continue as we are. We must be discrete."

"I realize that," she said. "I'm not the fool you seem to think I am." She stood up suddenly, whirled around, and faced him. "Tell me, do you think it would make things easier if we pretend this doesn't exist? That if we don't talk, or touch, or spend time together it will go away? If we ignore it, if we forget about it? Is that what you want?" He could see the hurt in her eyes, hidden under the bravado.

Bitter sadness boiled up inside of him. "Forget what?" he asked. "Forget that you have gotten inside me like a poison, invading every pore of my being, making me dream, and want, and feel?" He stood up and gently touched her face, her smooth skin like silk under his roughened fingers. "Forget that I think about you every waking minute and that you haunt me even in my dreams?"

Her hand flew to her chest, and she took a shaky breath then looked at him pleadingly. "No," she whispered. "Just tell me what you want."

"I want what I can not have."

"That doesn't mean you have to throw away what you can have." She gazed at him with brown eyes wise beyond her years, and he felt his heart lift a little. She was right. Why hadn't he seen it? It was idiotic of him to be resentful. She deserved what happiness she could find, but that didn't mean he couldn't still share her life or that they had to lose this strange unspoken bond between them. He could and would be her friend, a friend who shared something stronger and more lasting than any earthly declaration.

He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her slight form against his chest, and rested his chin on the top of her head. She leaned into him with a sigh, the palms of her hands pressed softly against his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair and captured this moment to store with all the others in the locked treasure chest of his memory.

"Severus?" The word was a question, and she tilted her head to meet his eyes. Her soft, full mouth was so close; it would take only a second to fulfill all his greedy, selfish desires. To crush her to him and feel the hot coals of their hunger leap into desperate, fervent flame.

"You should go," he said.

"I should." Her lips twisted in a smile

He closed his eyes to give him strength. "Ginny," he said. "Go." She hesitated a moment, then her lips gently brushed his cheek, a soft caress, an avowal, and she slipped out of his arms. He heard her cross the room and open the door, the aged wood creaking on its hinges, and let his head fall to his chest as all his burdens came crashing back. "I love you," he said quietly, barely uttering the words, not meaning her to hear them. Her reply floated back to him through the narrow crack of the door, just before it closed.

.