Fall on your Knees

Chapter Summary:

Events take place after Ginny's graduation at Hogwarts, when she is 27 years of age and thus in the year 2008. You are warned now; this is nothing like the Ginny that chased after Harry and she has grown to be more mature and independent. Couplings aren't set in stone, and are prone to change

In this chapter, we are reminded that Tom, after all, is human. Hermione makes some more revelations and takes the first jump. We get a taste of what Ron has been swallowing down all his life. Assurance is provided that Dumbledore, of all people, is not perfect. Draco enters the scene rather rudely.

chapter 3

ghosts in the dark

Remember thee!

Ay, thou poor ghost, while memory holds a seat

in this distracted globe

Tom's spirit was restless during the night. The sheer thought of what he could have if he were successful--what he could finally achieve and attain, kept him more than half awake. His body was beginning to take shape now. He felt himself solidifying as the seconds ticked by--his dependence on Ginny's trust was fading fast, and that was good, because she didn't have much left.

If you were standing in the same room, it is doubtful you would have seen him, unless by some freak chance a sliver of moonlight shined on his ghostly skin and you saw a patch of white. Everything about him made him fit in with the dark--his daunted eyes always had something to say, but the shadows on his face silenced it. His face alone could've been a 700 page novel.

The way he moved corresponded with the heavy darkness that pressed down on the unaware Ginny's heart. She pulled the covers closer to her like she felt him, but didn't stir. Tom let himself sit on her bed. His weight was light enough to not make a sound.

His fingers, long, slim like a grand concert pianist's, trailed down Ginny's bare neck and trembled over her shoulders. His breathing was eerily quiet. He played with the strap of her top, and stroked the sharp curve of her shoulder blade.

His hand reached down further; gently into the concave of her chest...and he trembled. Tom Riddle did not tremble. Tom Riddle did not shiver. Yet touching Ginny like this was making him tremble. Shiver.

In the dark, Ginny's eyes snapped open.

*

Oh gods...who did I bring home with me this time?

Ginny felt the hand trembling in her chest, and gently removed it, turning around with her eyes closed, like she knew what she was about to see. "Tom," she said, almost crying.

His eyes shined briefly, but his mouth didn't move.

"Is this....is this why you came back?" she said, gathering up the blanket to cover her body. The skin that he had touched scorched like a brand against her heart.

Tom said nothing.

"It is, isn't it? You came back so you could touch me...Tom...I don't think I know you anymore." She shuddered at the thought of not knowing him--she prayed that he would say no. Tom had always been hers, in the way that she was the one he talked to, trusted with secrets.

"I don't know you anymore," Tom said quietly, his eyes flickering like fire. "I've been inside you in and out, but never ...inside you."

Ginny relaxed mildly and caught her breath. "Tom...how old are you?"

"Ageless," he replied simply.

That was the first moment Ginny had ever felt unperturbed and comfortable with him.

*

For the whole morning, Hermione had to hide her right hand from Ron. She did things with her right and only pulled her right hand out of hiding when Ron had left the room. There was a flight of butterflies taking off in her stomach, fluttering about, and a wave of queasiness washed her over and left her to tumble on the shore with a throbbing headache.

Yet she couldn't cancel her morning shopping trip and lunch with Ron. She had come this far and she knew that if she backed out now, she would lose all control in her life. So she grasped this opportunity, no seized it with both hands and shut her mind down so she wouldn't think, so that she wouldn't feel, so that she wouldn't care if she was hurting Ron so badly. The awful weight it would leave on her chest, if she did think, would be too excruciating.

Funny, then, why she chose the wizarding shopping district Magique Ruelle. She remembered wondering down these streets, thinking of Ron on her summer vacation in France between her second and third year.

"Herm, what exactly are we shopping for?" Ron said, scrunching his eyebrows up in the way that Hermione thought made him look like he was constipated.

"Oh, we'll know when we see it," she said airily, crushing her right hand into her pocket. "It's just...shopping. You're not supposed to have a purpose."

Ron wrinkled his brows. "This is a married thing, right?"

Hermione looked away and pretended to be interested at a boutique window display. She almost half-dragged Ron into the shop, but didn't even look at him once.

She browsed for a minute in a rack of the latest fashions--more like hid herself between racks of half-torn robes. Ron didn't find this very peculiar and very obediently took the shopping bags they had already and didn't even mind when Hermione stacked an outfit onto his already very big stack of clothes that she would try on later, after she finished "browsing."

It was somewhat amusing as Hermione tried to play hide-and-seek with Ron in the shop. She stuck her head between racks of lingerie and looked up to see Ron's face smirking at a thong that was to the right of her head. His eyes were too blue. It hurt to look at him.

The rest of the morning went like that. Hermione hid and Ron found, hurting her with the vividness of his eyes. Suddenly, everything about him irritated her--his very presence, the way he breathed, the way he didn't object to being treated like a butler.

But that was also the very reason why she found it so hard to even look at him with a cup of coffee at a café. Even with coffee, she couldn't stand him. With coffee, she could usually stand anything from evil dark lords to colic newborns. The dark brown liquid couldn't work its magic this time.

"Ron," she said, holding her right hand out onto the table. Ron didn't know what he was looking at until he saw the barely visible band of white on her right finger.

"Where's the ring?" he asked, almost casually.

"It's...that's not important. We need...we need to talk."

"About the wedding plans? That's bloody murder--how about you plan all of it and I'll just make sure you have enough Butterbeer for the guests..."

"No, Ron..." He was making this so difficult. His childish innocence seemed too much for her to take all of a sudden, and she burst out crying.

Oh god. She felt like the eleven year old bushy kid again, crying because her mother was a Muggle and couldn't enjoy all of the wonderful things she had.

"Hermione, relax..." Even though Ron had seen Hermione cry many times, he still hadn't gotten the hang of it. He awkwardly put a hand on her shoulder, and that was when Hermione realized how everything in their relationship was--awkward. They were like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that had been forced together. They fit, but they fit awkwardly. They just didn't belong.

"I can't, Ron...this is wrong."

"Wrong? What's wrong? What are you talking about? Hermione, are you okay? Maybe you didn't have enough sleep--"

"Shut up...just listen to me, Ron."

Ron, hurt at being told so forcedly, sat stubbornly like a spoiled child and listened.

"I...this is wrong. I love you Ron, but I'm not ...in love with you. Maybe I was. Maybe some part of my life, this is what I would've wanted, but...it's not that way now...I can't...I just can't keep letting you think this. I'm so sorry..."

Ron's face was a complete blank. "Where is the ring, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up, her face in disarray. "The ring? I've...I've got it at home."

"I need the ring. I need it back if we're not going to get married," he said calmly. His words were frosted with ice and the brightness in his eyes that hurt Hermione so much seemed to have dulled away and now made them a clear, transparent blue.

"Just send it to me by owl," said Ron, only the last note of the sentence showing some sign of real emotion. His eyes scrunched and ice shattered, but Hermione wasn't looking at him. She was staring down at her foamy cup of Arabian import coffee blankly, hearing the click of Ron's boots as he walked away.

*

The keys trembled in her hand, but she twisted the lock and the door opened; nothing had been touched. Her movements in the darkness were quick, swift and neat. She quickly threw a few outfits and essentials into a bag and flattened them with her favourite books.

The lease said the apartment was hers and Ron's until the end of year, and it was only April. They had planned to live in the apartment for a year and then planned to buy their own house, the first step into the dream that Ron planned to surround them both with.

Before she had told Ron, she had already gotten a taste of what the life she might've had. Weasley family picnics, seeing everybody at the Burrow, the latest couples, tiny redheaded children running around, testing out Fred and George's latest inventions ... she felt reminiscent.

If she had broken up with Ron like this, was she still invited to all those Burrow outings? The Quidditch games that had become an annual tradition with Arthur, Ron, and whoever he happened to be dating at the time? She had cut herself out of the Weasley picture now and made herself one of the forgotten ex-girlfriends Ron had so many of.

It seemed all the years she had been such close friends with Ron, all the good times, bad times and experiences just crumbled to nothing. It all came down to that she wasn't in love with him, and that was all that mattered now. The fact that they had been best friends in Hogwarts and years after that faded to the background and disappeared.

But Harry. She still had Harry.

*

-- "I can't pretend it's all right, Maybe we'll find a way somehow...Why do we need to turn it on? Why does it always feel so wrong?" -- Goo Goo Dolls

*

Ron tousled his own hair in dismay and patted the bulge of Galleons he still had left in his pocket. He felt dry, completely sucked and left to dry out in the sun, even though he had more than enough alcohol in his system. He sat in the shadows of the bar, his eyes bloodshot and the front collar of his shirt ripped.

"Come on mate, you need to go home." A muscular fair-haired man lifted a giant hand on Ron's shoulder and plucked him up easily. "Bar's closing and the manager doesn't want you causing any trouble...but since you can hardly walk, I doubt it."

Ron got up and felt a sick taste in his mouth but swallowed it down, allowing him to be picked up and placed outside of the bar. The man paused and examined his handiwork, but wasn't satisfied. "Where do you live?"

"In an old bitter apartment...where Herm no longer lives...filled with all of her bloody things...I'll go home and trash them all...I'll find the ring and snap it in half and soak it in her overpriced fancy tea...watch it die like everything else has in that cursed hellhole." His speech was slurred but the man had seen too many like him not to understand him clearly.

"Girlfriend dumped you, eh?"

"Fiancée..."

Ron's head rolled onto his shoulder and he passed out.

*

Ron was surprised when he woke up in his own bed. He patted his pocket, but the lump of Galleons that was there last night was gone. He pulled out his wallet but only found his keys and Apparation License... damn. The fucking bastard must've taken all his money and his MagiVisa card.

But there was something else pointing out of his wallet. Something sharp and rounded. He pulled it out and a brilliant sparkle temporarily blinded up. His ring. Hermione's ring. She must've been here, yes, she must, she must've been here so she could survey her damage and give him back something that never was really hers in the first place.

A note tumbled out of his wallet, wrapped around twice around the ring. Hermione's curly handwriting was scrawled messily on it, stained by a large teardrop.

Dear Ron,

I'm sorry about what happened. I know that won't cut it and it hardly makes up for what's happened, but I hope you know that I still have nothing but the utmost respect for you. And all those years at Hogwarts...yes ... I was in love with you.

But it's teenage infatuation, Ron. Things...things change. I made the mistake of thinking that teenage infatuations can live forever. They die and fade and eventually I found myself with nothing but pain and fear that I would hurt you.

I know I've hurt you. I've hurt myself. All those years of being friends with you have just crumbled away and...I want to kill myself for destroying all those years. They've become worthless and I'm not even going to ask you if you could see beyond this.

Keep the apartment.

Love always,

Hermione Granger

His eyes hurt. It was like reality had suddenly washed over and he realised that every part of him hurt; his toes were cramped, his ankles were swollen, his kneecaps felt like something had taken a bit dent out of it, and his stomach was churning with the beer he had soaked in last night.

And his head. Why did his head hurt again?

Oh right. The stupid letter. The fucking ring. The Hermione affair.

Affair. That's what it had been reduced to...a fucking affair, after three years of dating. Affair. A past event. His finger skimmed along the parchment and ripped into two pieces.

I have a meeting in the morning, I've got to look half-decent...Ron's fingers pulled open the lamp drawer expertly and pulled out a bottle of pills. He swallowed them without any water. Muggle drugs may have been primitive, but he was not in the mood to cast a spell and he could hardly remember his own birthday, much less the words to the spell.

He dragged himself to the bathroom and took a good long, hard look at him and washed his face roughly with soap and water. The harshness felt good on his skin and he felt half-alive again. He ran a hand over his freckles and smiled nostalgically. He remembered standing in front of a winded mirror in the Burrow and examining them, trying out several combinations of spells to get rid of the freckles he was doomed to written off as. Marked as a Weasley...the snide voice of Draco Malfoy came back every time he looked at his freckles. "My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

At first it was just jealousy that his family and parents weren't as rich as the Malfoys, though he never admitted it. He felt dishonour that he had felt so ashamed of his own family, but even so, he knew he wasn't going to spend the rest of his life like ...like that. It seemed like a Weasley blessing; being poor all his childhood, he was determined to make money for his adult years.

And... and...he thought that Hermione had understood that. He thought Hermione understood that he wasn't ashamed of his family; he just had more faith in the future than in the present. Hermione just didn't immediately write himself off as a Weasley. She didn't give him her own standards for him to abide by; he was himself...

He reminded himself with a pinch on the cheek that she was gone. Another pinch for feeling like he had done something wrong to make Hermione repel from him like that.

Not my fault. Not my fault...not my fault...Weasley...it's not your fault this time...she's just....

Gone.

Left, you mean.

She... dumped me.

Broke up.

Oh gods...you stinking bastard. Can't even keep a girlfriend.

It is Hermione...I did nothing wrong. That's what her letter says. See?

Sod off...that's what you've been saying your whole life. It's your fault this time, Weasley. Your fault.

I...but what did I do?

Everything. Nothing.

Should I...should I get her back?

She's gone. Hermione doesn't go back.

*

-- "In the darkness she sees definition, in the silence she hears someone calling, after nightmares, she lies in bed screaming......" - NOFX

*

A new form of energy overtook her. It pumped her up, exerted her until she could no longer just lay still in the Knight Bus that shook violently and rolled with every single turn. Her chocolate milk lay untouched on her bedside table and the only way to calm her down was to watch as the last rays of sunlight flickered by the starry lake they were driving beside--or, rather, on.

A sign that hang limply caught her eye and she froze, like she had been caught in the act of something illegal. Ottery St. Catchpole, it read. She had ordered a Knight Bus to get away from the damn family, not to talk with Ron's whole family about the disaster.

"Excuse me...are we just driving through here or are we picking up someone from a ... house nearby?"

"Eh? Weren't you asleep?"

"I was just lying down. Are we just passing by here, or is there a passenger?"

"Why are you worried?"

"I've got a meeting with someone from this place," she lied. "I'd like to know them a bit better since we're...heading off to the same place."

"Eh? Eh. A redhead flashed us a moment ago, and we're seconds away..." The bus landed to an aggressive stop and on stepped Bill Weasley, long hair and all, with a toothy grin.

He caught Hermione look at him with an awkward smile and sat down on the bed beside him, laying down his dragonhide suitcase and grinning. "Hermione! How are you? Where's Ron? Where are you off to without him? I always thought you guys were the most inseparable couple I have ever seen."

"I - Bill - we - broke up...I'm off to uh, a friend of mine in London."

Bill frowned, but being one of the least inquisitive Weasleys, didn't ask any more questions. "Not up to Apparation?"

"I've got to save my energy," she said. "Big conference in the morning.."

"Our little lawyer...never stop sticking up for the little guys."

The rest of the conversation went on like that, meaningless and hollow. Hermione did her best to flash him one of her signature smiles and Bill did his best not to nose around into his brother and his ex-girlfriend's business. It was not until Hermione's stop had arrived did they finally stop talking.

Hermione grabbed her suitcase and dragged it off the bus, not bothering to turn around as it sped away, sputtering. She lay her suitcase down and closed her eyes, just remembering how to breathe properly for her meeting with Harry.

She tapped his door, and he answered. The way he pulled open the door seemed like the virtue of perfection. He blinked once, and then dropped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly to him.

"Did you...do it?" he half-muttered into her hair. He reached down blindly and wiped away the moisture in Hermione's eyes.

"Yes."

He pulled her in and asked his house-elf to help Hermione with her bags. "Don't worry," he said briskly when Hermione raised her brows to the presence of the house-elves. "They're paid for by the Ministry."

Yes, she did still have Harry.

*

*

In the dark, they conversed.

"Harry, we're cutting Ron out again. I feel like we're just...throwing him out of the picture. It was a trio, now it's just a--"

"Just us, Hermione..."

She sighed. "We're....just kicking him out like this? He's our best friend. Harry, get your mouth off my neck ... let's just talk for a few moments."

"Alright...Ron reacted that badly?"

"Mm-hmm...I'm so afraid of what I've done to him. It just wasn't his fault...he needs to know that."

"Ron blamed everything on himself."

"I should go back. Reconcile. Tell him everything....Harry...I said to get your mouth off my neck."

"Fine..." Harry grumbled. "Ron's going to be alright. He reacts badly to everything the first time but...he makes it through. Remember Voldemort?"

"But we're not kids anymore."

"That's exactly why you should wait. You're a stubborn one, Granger."

"What, you don't think he's hurt? Harry..."

"I think he's hurt."

"Ugh...I feel like my conscience is about to collapse under all this weight."

"Fine then, if you're so intent on not having Ron left out of this, how do you feel about a threesome?"

"Harry!"

*

Ginny buttoned up her shirt slowly, button by button, taking each breath slowly and breathing in and out. Sometimes she had to do this, to ensure that she was alive. When she can't hear the sound of her own breathing, she panics.

She does this like a religious mantra. Buttoning up her shirt like this made her feel safe and in control. It was such a simple, simple task but that was how she regained her peace of mind, if she even had it in the first place. Like the cheesy Muggle talk shows talked about, it was her only time for herself.

She looked at the reflection in the mirror and dressed in a simple white blouse and dark jeans, she didn't look like herself. Her virgin hair hung in loose waves that draped around her hourglass figure. She looked about 5 years younger, her face naked of make-up.

This, of course, wasn't to say that she didn't look damn fine.

It was very ironic, though, that she was dressing so sharply for a man that was nearly on the edge of death. Professor Dumbledore's nurse and primary caregiver, an ailing Arabella Figg, had owled her and asked her sadly that since Professor Dumbledore was dying (there was simply no other way to put it) he wished to see Ginny before he left.

She frowned. Professor Dumbledore and she were not very close at Hogwarts and she hardly related to the old man except for the fact that they had both been involved in Chamber of Secrets...and she hardly counted that as something that they both participated in.

Professor Dumbledore was the kind of person that Ginny would've been mostly likely to cry for, to cry about. Once energetic and vibrant, he was faded back into the midst of the hospital bed, blending in perfectly with the antiseptic and sterilized environment. He didn't talk much anymore, and everybody suspected that it was definitely because he didn't like the sound of his own voice anymore. It was weak and burnt out, charred by the many years of life.

She patted herself once, and Apparated to the St. Florence's Hospital.

*

Hospitals scared her. There were no colour, no flashes of bright, coloured light that told her that she wasn't going colour-blind. Especially magical hospitals - at least the Muggle ones had P.A. speakers to make the place sound alive. In magical hospitals, every doctor and nurse was equipped with their own Omnitalker and silence stalked the halls like a silent predator.

Death wasn't one of her great fears. Not death, not ever...having Tom, meeting Tom, just knowing that Tom existed was a constant comfort. If your spirit was strong enough, your life-force, bonded together with a little Dark Magic, would survive even the jump of demise.

Ginny entered the sterile white room after being stripped searched of her metal belongings, the hospital's reason being that they interfered with the magic force that needed to be as strong as possible for the patients' benefit. Professor Dumbledore looked up to her, tilting his head a little and smiling dimly.

"Hello, Professor. You wanted to see me?"

"Ginny..."

She winced at the way her name was being said.

"There were times during your Hogwarts years that I thought you had been seduced and won over by Tom Riddle," he said. "There were so many things you were not ready for. So many things I wished I could've taught you but cannot teach you now..."

He paused.

"But, gladly, the fate of humankind's education do not rest in my hands," he said, his muddy blue eyes scanning over Ginny. "You've grown so much, Ginny. You've blossomed from that blushing little girl in the halls to a beautiful woman. Alas...there are things you have missed out on that are unquestionably not your fault."

All this time, Ginny pursed her lips and didn't speak. She folded her hands together and tried to smile politely, but didn't know if that was appropriate since she didn't know what Dumbledore was trying to say.

"The diary was the biggest scare for me concerning you, Ginny, even after it had been destroyed. Not many people may know this, but we do have Security and Alert Charms placed on Hogwarts. When you had got a hold of the diary, I immediately became concerned again..."

Ginny furrowed. This old man had been watching her from a crystal ball this whole time, probably drinking lemonade tea and laughing amusedly. She blushed furiously and spoke harshly, "Professor Dumbledore, that's an invasion of our privacy. That's damned invasion of privacy by magic and I'm surprised you had the guts to install those."

"Ginny...they were not for spying on people. When you had got a hold of the diary, I immediately became alert and took it back."

Ginny blazed with anger, but the Professor kept talking.

"My time is short," he said. "I will not lie to you. The diary has been stripped and Tom is gone...my Council of Dark Magic Artefacts said he was most likely destroyed but I will not accept it. I am asking you to keep alert and please, Ginny, think of everything and weigh what you have made for yourself before you make choices.

"And this...Ginny, I trust you to do well with it. I have a feeling it may come in handy for you and contain many sentimental moments." He pulled something from his pillow and Ginny dropped her angered expression and almost smiled.

The real diary. She knew it now; she could feel her blood rushing and her fingers' desire to touch the rough leather cover and burnt hole in the middle where bits of the Basilisk's tooth still remained.

"Keep it," he said. "He may come back through this...he may try again...but Ginny, promise me you are not the girl you were in Hogwarts. Promise me you have matured and completed...promise me you know the risks and dangers..."

Ginny promised him. She did know the risks and dangers, but that didn't mean she was willing to try it anyway.

It was the reason for everything.

*

There are villains and there are heroes in every world.

The Malfoys were an influential family; even after all the messy business with the Voldemort War, their son's business scandals, and Narcissa Malfoy's affair with the American Minister of Magic. They were not a family to be meddled with, and many people had to learn the hard way.

But nobody's saying that they are the villain.

Draco Malfoy, a proud Hogwarts graduate, owned a wand company, Sauvage Jardin, Inc. The company was named after the discovery of vampire blood in wands, which improved the loyalty of it to its owner. The company had its ups and downs and quite a few financial scandals, but he avoided the verge of bankruptcy and was confidently rebuilding from the ground up.

This morning, he sat in his office, wearing his designer suit and signing very important documents. It's anyone's guess what he was thinking--money, the sneaky reporters that wanted to investigate him, the piece of land in Scotland he was planning to have a look at later in the day for his new chain of exclusive stores?

No, the silvery blond haired man was thinking about Hermione Granger. Not in a thong, mind you, but rather specifically he was thinking about Owling her office about his case. Of course he wasn't going to just step into her firm in London, he was Malfoy.

After half-a-millennium of the Malfoy heritage, some things still never changed.

The sham of a marriage he had been in starting to blow up in his face to a power and material struggle; Heather Masquer-Lézarde (pronounced masKERR LAYzard, he was reminded everyday), a French supermodel witch had demanded possession of the 5 million galleon mansion that they had shared, the penthouse in New York, the new Croyance-Die luxury flying car model, not to mention his prized and complete collection of Chocolate Frogs Cards, with the Missing Famous Quidditch Players of 1784.

Hermione Granger, the most ethical and knowledgeable lawyer known in the wizarding world, gifted with the sharp and silver tongue (as they nicknamed it), and would undoubtedly be the only person he could accept for a lawyer. She may have been busy with an "innocent" Azkaban's appeal or the other to care for his divorce trial, but what did he care?

His thoughts were interrupted when his secretary, a feisty short redhead, buzzed him on the Omnitalker. "Mr. Malfoy, love, er, Ms. Voldemort - is that right, love? Yes, Ms. Voldemort is here to see you. She doesn't have an appointment, but she says it's urgent."

All the blood drained out of Draco's face, but raised an eyebrow to the "Ms." part of the equation. Hmm. Perhaps Voldemort had become a drag queen...well, either that, he thought wryly, or it's one of his clever disguises.

A tall, slim, redheaded woman walked in, wearing an amused grin. "Hello, Malfoy."

"Weasley--has your family abducted Voldemort and taken away his name? Or did you dig up his corpse and marry him? Of course, if you did, it wouldn't even be slightly out of the blue for your family."

The daunted smile on Ginny's face vanished and she looked ready to pounce on Draco. The rumours that her father, Arthur Weasley had gone crazy after his wife died were trialed publicly and Arthur had not shown his good side.

Some resemblance of her mother in Ginny shone through as she placed her hands on her hips and swore back at him smoothly. There was a nice rhythm to the way she said the words.

"Might I remind you that you are in my office and I'm sure you didn't just wander in because you want own a franchise?"

"Malfoy, I'd like to remind you that I have the goods you want, so you listen to me," she snapped. She pulled the diary out of her bag and smirked at the look of malevolence on Draco's face.

"Dumbledore is dead, isn't he?"

Malfoy was never stupid.

"Close. Very close."

"What do I want with that thing, though?"

"I imagine your father is still quite angry about your company's public scandals and fraud, Malfoy."

His eyes flickered.

"...your failure as a Death Eater, in fact, your whole betrayal as a Death Eater. If it were not for you, Lord Voldemort would not be a corpse rotting in the ground today, now would he?"

"I had nothing to do with that."

"Don't act stupid, Malfoy. I know more than you think. You can give this diary to your father, and even try to resurrect his spirit or whatever the shit it is that you former Death Eaters do. He'll smile and think he's gotten his son back. Maybe he'll be pleased enough to give your company that donation you've been looking for, hmm? Even buy enough stocks to raise the price."

"What are you getting out of this, Weasley?"

"All I want," she said simply, Slytherin-styled slyness shining in her eyes, "is a week's access to your mansion's library."

Draco was still a bit reluctant to accept he offer, however beneficial it may have proved to be for his company. "Why do you want access to the library? What are you going to do?"

"A little research, here and there, about this and that - nothing major, Malfoy." She glanced around his office and glanced at the small crack in the wall. "The money would do some good for this dump, Malfoy. You know it would. Maybe it would even do good enough to get those sneaky reporters off your back, hmm? I see Rita Skeeter is a regular visitor to your office."

Draco analysed the deal with a deadly precision, thinking of all the pros and cons, but in the end, he smiled and accepted the diary. "Come to the Mansion - I know you know where it is, you sneaky little bitch - tomorrow at 4:30 PM, sharp."

With a devious smile on her face, she turned around and walked out of his office. Draco had a sick feeling that he had just been tricked.

*

I've known him all my life, but it feels like we're just beginning to get to know about each other this way. There are so many secret places in him that I can just crawl up in and never come out.

I've never been this way with anyone else. It feels like I've discovered another piece of me, and my life is just starting. My job seems less boring and I feel so reenergised that I could run a marathon...I was never this way with Ron.

He is a puzzling piece of flesh that fits me perfectly. I love the way he nuzzles up against me, the clean smell of his hair, the way he can tell if something is bothering me, just like that. He is my other half.

And we've only been officially together for a day, but I think I've loved him for lifetimes.

*

She had been everything I thought I wanted since Hogwarts. Her smell, her arms around me, that feeling that we were the only two in the world, her kisses, stroking her hair and all those arguments we had over Krum.

Well, we always made up after them anyway.

Just my destiny, though, that she breaks up with me, after not even a full day of engagement ... all the years of dating in Hogwarts suddenly mean nothing at all. Will we ever talk together again? What now with Harry?

Do I want to talk with her again?

Yes.

Harry?

Of course.

Maybe all those years I thought I loved her, it was just

lust.

*

This is incredible
Starving, insatiable
Yes, this is love for the first time
Well you'd like to think that you were invincible
Yeah, well weren't we all once before we felt loss for the first time
Well this is the last time..

*

In the next chapter, a twist takes things for the worst. Or better. Depending on whom you're rooting for. Inspired and based on an X-Files episode...prepare for surprises.