Emerald

Chapter 2:

To Live Again

"Harry?" Draco stared at the boy in front of him, knowing that it had to be a dream, after all Harry was dead, but wishing desperately that it could be real. "What are you doing?" The Harry in his dreams had stepped closer and Draco could feel the other boy's warm breath on his face. The sensation sent shivers racing up and down his spine.

"This is what you wanted wasn't it?" Harry asked, his green eyes smoldering with concealed emotion. "And I definitely owe you. All those time you were there for Ginny, I know you weren't doing it for her." Harry slipped a hand up to cup Draco's chin, stroking the boy's high cheekbones with a calloused thumb. "You were trying to protect the one I loved, even though you were jealous of that love."

A delighted tremor ran over Draco's body, and he didn't try to argue, as always Harry was right. Taking care of Ginny had just been his way of doing something for Harry, even though he knew Harry was dead, he felt like he still needed to redeem himself, to make up for all the things he had done. And the only way he had known how was to protect Harry's girlfriend. Draco felt himself relaxing into the gentle caresses, as Harry moved closer. There was only a whisper of a gap between them now, and Draco felt delightedly nervous.

"Why are you here?" Draco asked, trying to not concentrate on how wonderful it felt to be with Harry like this, forcing his mind to think of something, anything, to take his mind off of what he had always wanted but never gotten.

"I came to thank you," was the simple response. "You took care of Ginny, even though you hate her. And you did that for me." A small smile flitted across Harry's face.

Draco's heart turned over and he felt his breaths coming shorter. Harry leaned in towards him, closing the miniscule gap. His lips were warm and soft against Draco's and he was a skilled kisser. A moan of pleasure escaped Draco's lips as Harry's tongue slipped into his mouth. He brought his hand up to pull Harry closer, and lost his fingers in the unruly black hair. He felt the cold stone against his back as Harry backed him against a wall, but it didn't matter how cold the stone was because he felt like his body was on fire. Harry's lean body pressed up against his, Harry's hands tousled his immaculate hair ...

Draco jolted into a sitting position, his heart rate slowly returning to normal. This was the first dream he'd had that hadn't been about Quidditch accidents since Harry's death. Of course it had still been about Harry, since first year all his dreams had been about Harry, first about beating him at Quidditch, slowly progressing to the type of dream he had had tonight. Draco ran a trembling hand through his sweat soaked hair; it had all felt so real and so perfect.

He pushed himself off the bed, his feet hitting the cold stone floor with a jolt. This dream had made up his mind, the dead boy had completely taken over his life. Even his house mates had noticed. He would let his obsession for Harry go and move on with his life. The only problem was that he didn't know how to let someone go.

***

"It's been months Gin." Hemione's voice was soft with concern. "You can't spend the rest of your life like this. I know it hurts." She reached out to run her hand along Ginny's trembling back, "I know the pain, but you have to push through it. What would Harry think, if he could see you now, knowing you'd given up living. It would destroy him."

Ginny glared at her friend. "I AM NOT going to just forget about Harry just because it hurts to think about him! You think it'd be destroying him to see how much I hurt?" Angry tears welled up in her eyes and she had to pause to clear a lump from her throat. "Think what he would feel if he saw how you and Ron and everyone else have forgotten him." The tears were streaming down her face, unchecked, and her voice was horse with suppressed emotion, "I LOVED Harry. I loved him. You don't just throw that away. I know he's not coming back, but if he's looking down on us I don't want him to doubt that I loved him. If I were to just go on as if nothing's happened I would have to forget him. You don't know how much remembering hurts." With that said she buried her head in a pillow and burst into tears.

Hermione stared incredulously. "You think we've forgotten him?" she asked, her voice dangerously close to tears. "You think I don't know how much remembering hurts? I remember every day, and I try to remember just the good things, the ones that make me glad we had even that short while together, but with you walking around as if you don't care if you live or not it's really hard to be grateful." She shook her head, "You have some serious straightening out to do. I'll talk to you later." With that Hermione stood and exited the room, slamming the heavy door shut behind her.

Out side she stopped, lost in her grief, tears streaming down her cheeks. She knew she had to do something about Ginny, before the younger girl wasted away, but what she could do she wasn't sure. Suddenly Hermione was hit with an inspiration, why had she never thought of this before? Hurriedly wiping away all traces of tears from her face she strode off to find Ron.

***

I can't believe him! Draco fumed, what was Snape thinking? Telling Dumbledore that he was worried about me. Now the old coot probably thinks I'm depressed. Some head of house he is, can't even deal with one lousy student's problems. Slimy bastard.

Draco's thoughts were interrupted by the unwelcome sight of Ginny Weasley standing in front of the large stone gargoyle that was the entrance to Dumbledore's quarters. He groaned. What's she doing here? Can't I even talk to the crackpot alone? Could this get any worse?

She turned to face him, her eyes were puffed up and her face blotchy. She looked as if she had been sobbing for days. Draco's heart turned over in compassion at the sight. Obviously it could get worse. He shook his head, Malfoys did not feel compassion, it was a weakness and they, as a matter of familial pride, were never weak. He walked up to the large ornately carved gargoyle, pretending not to notice the tiny redhead at his side, and spoke the password (peppermint). The gargoyle swung aside, revealing a spiraling staircase that twisted up out of sight. Without a backwards glance to see if she would follow he began to climb.

Dumbledore's office was on of the most interesting rooms Draco had ever seen. The round wooden walls were covered with paintings of the past headmasters, all of whom were sleeping, some more quietly than others. There were two large red and gold arm chairs placed in front of a large mahogany desk and one behind it. Draco lowered himself gracefully into the leftmost chair and continued to ignore Ginny's presence. At the far left side of the room there was a bright ruby and gold bird, perched on a polished gold bar. After a few moments of observation Draco realized this must be the Headmaster's Phoenix. His father had told him about the bird, its tears had healing powers, and they lived forever. He had seen pictures of Phoenixes in books and always considered them to be ugly birds, this one was no exception, from its rundown appearance to it's hideously Gryffindor coloring it was the ugliest thing he'd ever seen outside of Hagrid's Care of Magical Creatures class.

Draco's slow observation of the office was interrupted when Dumbledore entered. The old man was dressed in rich velvet robes in a startlingly brilliant shade of scarlet, confirming Draco's suspicion that not only did this man have no taste in clothes, but he definitely had to have been in Gryffindor when he was at Hogwarts. The headmaster moved slowly to his desk, seated himself in the third armchair and regarded the two students in front of him with a searching eye. "I believe you know why you were sent to see me." He began his voice soothing. "Your friends and teachers have been concerned about you for some time; they believe you're both refusing to move on." He looked directly into their eyes as he spoke, his ice blue eyes piercing in a way that made Draco distinctly uncomfortable. "I know that this has been a very hard time for you both, but what you're doing, or not doing as this case may be, isn't healthy." He held up his hands to stop them from commenting, "Please hear me out. The reason I asked you to meet with me today is that I have hired a wonderful grief counselor and would like you both to speak with her."

"What?" Draco, who had had enough of this, rose to his feet, "I don't think so." His cheeks were pink and his silver eyes had darkened to a hard charcoal in his fury. "There's no way you can make me do this. My father..."

"Your father has no say in this matter." Dumbledore cut off the irate boy's ranting, his voice quiet but firm. "You Mister Malfoy are failing all of your classes and, if you refuse to do this, I can have you expelled until you can come back and work better." He softened his voice, "Of course I have no wish to take such drastic measures, but if you force me to do this I will."

Ginny stared at the headmaster, shocked. "You're going to expel us because we don't want to talk to a shrink?" she asked, outraged. "That's insane!" She clenched her hands together in an effort to contain herself.

"I won't be expelling you, Miss Weasley. Your parents agree with me that it would be good for to meet with Margaret, who is a counselor by the way, not a therapist. They think one meeting just to get an assessment is an excellent idea, they worry about you." Dumbledore smiled tiredly. "It is only Mister Malfoy whom I will have to expel, since his parents do not agree with my decision enough to enforce it. Though, given that your mother, Mister Malfoy, did mention sending her own therapist here, I think that their problem with my plan is the counselor, not the counseling. "

Draco mouthed soundlessly, resembling a fish out of water so much that Ginny would have laughed had the situation not been so serious. At last he found his voice, "That's bollocks! There has to be some rule about threatening students like this. You can't do this to me!" He was pacing now, gesturing wildly with his hands, his usually cool exterior completely blown away by his rage.

"I'm not threatening you Mr. Malfoy, I'm simply presenting your options to you. Either you make an attempt to live again, by talking to this grief counselor, or you can go heal your wounds at home with your family and your mother's Therapist." Dumbledore smiled wistfully, "If you don't like either of these options then I suggest you improve by the end of the week, I will talk to Professor Snape on Friday to see how he, and your housemates, think you are doing." He rose, "And I expect a decision from you by Saturday evening."

Draco, who had stopped pacing only long enough o hear out the old man's speech, turned towards the door feeling dismissed. Therapy? I'm going to kill Pansy! I kn0ow it was her. And Snape, and Blaise and...

"Anger doesn't do anything you know." Ginny's soft voice interrupted Draco's mental death list.

He whirled around to face her, "what would you know Weasley?" He growled. "What works for you goody-good Gryffindorks doesn't always work for us Slytherins. Besides you look like you haven't slept, eaten, or washed in months, not exactly the type that should be handing out advice. Best scurry off to the showers before that foul scent kills someone."

Her face flushed in anger. "Bugger off Malfoy. I'm not in the mood." She turned and stalked off down the corridor, her head held high and her back stiff.

"What are you going to do?" She turned to face him, fists clenched tightly at her sides, "Sick the Weasel on me?" He smirked, "or will it be the Mudblood?"

She walked towards him; her face colorless in what he could only assume was poorly contained wrath, "Don't call them that!" She had shortened the distance between them to barely a foot, glaring up at him she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face before bursting into hysterical tears.

Draco stood stunned. She had just slapped him, he should have been furious, but he wasn't. Instead he felt the unwelcome desire to comfort her. It was a very strange feeling, he hadn't felt anything like it, ever. Not even on the day Harry died, when he had felt the need to protect her. At that point he had only cared about Harry, what Harry would have wanted, and that was Ginny's comfort. Today the feeling was different, his heart wrenched at the sight of Ginny's sorrow, and he not only wanted it to go away, but he wanted to be the one to banish it. He reached out a tentative hand to rub her back, not knowing what else to do.

***

What have I done? Ginny threw herself down onto her unmade bed, pulling the curtains closed around her. I can't believe I kissed him! He's going to think I'm in love with him or something. Just because he was being nice and sweet, and I was upset, that doesn't mean I had to go and bloody kiss him! Hell, I don't even like the guy. And I love Harry! Harry. She groaned. She had forgotten about Harry. What kind of person was she if she forgot about the boy she loved and forgetting him felt good? I am so so dead. Pulling her blankets up around her, she tried to sleep, but her thoughts kept turning back to what had happened earlier.

* * * flashback * * *

"What are you going to do? Sick the Weasel on me?"

Ginny stopped dead and turned to face him.

"Or will it be the Mudblood?"

Anger coursed through her veins as she walked towards him, stopping with her face a foot away from his, "Don't call them that!" She raised her hand, and without thinking, slapped him hard across the face. His white cheek glowed slightly pink with the impact and in a moment Ginny realized the enormity of what she had done, and promptly burst into hysterical tears.

She stood, crying harshly into her hands, unable to leave because she was blinded by her tears and in an unfamiliar part of the castle, wishing desperately for Malfoy to walk off. He didn't. Instead she felt a soothing hand rubbing her back, heard him murmuring noises of comfort, felt arms pulling her closer.

Her face buried against Malfoy's chest Ginny tried to stop her flowing tears. This had to be the most embarrassing moment of her entire life, she must be a real mess if Malfoy of all people was comforting her, but yet she had no urge to pull away. The soothing rhythm of his hand on her back, the unsure way he rested his head against her, the way his breath felt warm against her neck and the way his smell made her head spin, intoxicated her. Gradually her sobs subsided to an exhausted silence.

Not wanting to pull away from the solid wall that was Draco's chest, Ginny slipped her arms around his waist. He stiffened momentarily, and she thought he would pull away, and was surprised at herself at how much the thought of him leaving hurt, but instead of pushing away he tightened his hold on her and pressed his lips softly against her temple. The gesture was so tender it made Ginny's heart churn. She lifted her head and looked up at him, a questioning expression in her eyes. He returned her gaze, for once his expression was unguarded and she could see traces of vulnerability in the silver depths of his eyes that made her stomach muscles tighten in an odd way. Taking a slow, deep breath Ginny let her eyes drift closed, brought her face up to his and kissed him.

The kiss lasted on a few seconds. Ginny realizing what she was doing pulled away ready to flee, but as she turned to go, Draco's arms tightened about her, holding her in place, and he kissed her tentatively. His short sweet kisses set Ginny's heart pounding. She kissed him back shyly at first, then with growing certainty. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she reached up one hand into his hair, pulling him closer.

* * * end flashback * * *

***

Draco sank into his favorite armchair, a bottle of butterbeer clasped tightly in his right hand. He had just sent an owl to his father, telling him about the meeting with Dumbledore, and about his decision. The decision to meet with the Headmaster's counselor would surely enrage his father, who hated everything to do with Dumbledore, but thoughts of his father were far from his mind. Instead his thoughts were centered on his afternoon encounter with Ginny Weasley.

He hadn't been expecting what had happened. He hadn't meant to feel sorry for her, and he hadn't meant to comfort her, he hadn't meant for her to kiss him, or for him to kiss her back, most of all he hadn't meant to enjoy it. He groaned softly, he was so very screwed.