A Decision Of The Heart

Draco's POV

I don't know how long I sat there. I was back at Malfoy Manor, wandering the dark and unused corridors of my memories. I heard something, a distant noise struggling to penetrate the thick fog filling my head. And again. "Draco! Draco! I know you're not with Pansy, she's gone with Vincent. You'd better get out here; you know I don't like to kept waiting." Blaise. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear it of thoughts. The Weaslette was still sitting there, shivering and with a bluish tinge to her lips. I got up quickly and brushed myself down, my muscles complaining with every move I made. I hurried out from behind the bushes, to see Blaise tapping her foot impatiently. When she saw me she slid her hand seductively round my neck, knowing better than to ask where I'd been. She gently ran her delicate fingers over the nape of my neck, making the hairs stand on end. Her lips came up to brush against mine, but the moment they touched I saw a sudden flash of the Weaslette, of the pain she was feeling. My eyes flew open and I pushed Blaise away roughly. She pouted at me, but realised she wasn't going to get her way and flounced off to find someone else. I looked around reluctantly, before heading inside to my room.

Ginny's POV

I was aware of someone shaking me gently. I blinked several times, trying to focus on the blurry shape in front of me. Hermione's familiar hazel eyes materialised, looking worried.

"Are you alright?" she asked. No! I wanted to scream. I've just had the basis of my life torn to shreds! But what I actually said was "tired." It was all I could manage to get out. My brain seemed frozen, as did my muscles as Hermione helped me to my feet. The cloak still round me, my bruises hidden, like the mask I was using to cover my feelings. I followed her inside, and the next thing I knew I was in my dorm. I pulled off my beautiful dress, simply throwing on an oversized t-shirt and shorts and falling into bed.

It was Tom. He was raping me, and I could feel the pain rushing through my entire body, fire that burnt and wasted away everything it touched. I screamed in agony, the noise tearing from my throat. "Why? Why are you doing this to me Tom?" I was wishing, praying for it to stop, for the comfort of cool darkness.

"But I'm not Tom." And when I looked at him it was Harry, and then I was consumed in the burst of flames.

I woke up; sweat pouring down me and breathing heavily. I looked around in the early half light, the normality of things helping to settle me. The steady tick of the wall clock, the occasional creak as one of my dorm mates moved in their sleep. I glanced at the large clock face. 5.30am. I would never be able to go back to sleep. The burning of the fire inside me had dulled, leaving a steady pounding ache. I got up slowly, careful not to wake my friends, gathered my wash things and headed for the prefect's bathroom. I had failed to make it is a prefect, but with Ron as one and Hermione as Head Girl, getting the password was hardly difficult. And no one would be up at this time anyway.

I could see the pink-tinged clouds out the window; feel the fresh air on my face. But what I normally would have thought of as beautiful and romantic was totally lost on me. The world through my eyes no longer held that innocence, and the realisation caused me to feel almost physical pain. I turned from the window, my eyes blurry with unshed tears. I blinked them back and continued on my way, finally stopping outside a large door. "Rose petals," I muttered, and closed the door behind me as I went in.

I stepped into the shower and turned up as hot as I could. The physical pain helped to relieve some of my mental anguish, but my torn heart would never be healed completely. I should have seen this coming, avoided it somehow. I was disgusted with myself, with what I had let happen. Why couldn't I be a stronger person, stand up for myself? But if I had done that, I would never have been possessed by Voldemort, would never have been through life as I know it. I was dirty, twice used and thrown away. And the worst part was that I couldn't do anything about it. In my second year at Hogwarts, after Voldemort was defeated, I was rejected by everyone. They thought I didn't notice the whispered conversations, the pointing of fingers. But I did, and I knew that it would be exactly the same if I told anyone what had happened between Harry and I. He was The-Boy-Who-Lived, and he could do no wrong. Half the school thought I was crazy, and I suppose in my way I was.

I stepped out the shower, feeling no improvement. I felt as if a coat of dirt covered me, one that could never be washed off. I could see bruises on my body, handprints on my arms and wrists, large purple patches on my legs. I winced as I remembered the night before, and a fresh tear rolled down my cheek. I let it run its course, finally dropping off the end of my nose and onto the floor far below. I took a deep, shuddering breath and tried to pull myself together. I put on my lilac robe with shaking hands, ran a comb quickly through my hair and picked up my things. In the steamy warmth of the bathroom I could be who I'd always wanted to be. I was beautiful, smart, funny, popular and brave. I had played this game since I was young, and I truly believed it could influence my life. I took a breath and opened the door, stepping out into the cool corridor.

And I stopped dead. I suddenly felt naked and defenceless, as if everyone could see right through me. And I knew I was none of those things. I was plain Virginia Weasley, quiet, odd, and an outcast. I now know that it was my low self confidence and distrust of other people that allowed Harry to get to me, to abuse me in that way. He knew I would never tell anyone, and he was right. I hate him for knowing me so well, and myself for letting him into my life. But it would have been hard not to, seeing as mum regarded him as another son.

I slid down against the wall, my eyes swimming with tears and my face wet. I was so absorbed in thoughts of how my family would react that I didn't hear the familiar voice or see the feet approach me.

Draco's POV

I had woken up early, chased by the ghosts of my past. I decided to take a walk around the castle, to clear my head. I didn't know that what I would find would have the opposite effect. I had just turned the corner to the prefects bathroom when I spotted the Weaslette slumped against the wall. Her hair was wet and she smelled faintly of something I couldn't quite place. This is your chance. That little voice in the back of my head said. She doesn't mean anything. She's a worthless Weasley, and one that's been made even worse by Potter. If that's at all possible. It added smugly as an afterthought.

"What's the matter Weasley? Upset that when you go home to your hovel for the holidays you won't have a shower?" There. I had done it. She looked up at me, and a hand squeezed painfully on my heart. Why am I feeling remorse? I asked myself in wonder and disgust. I'm a Malfoy! Ridiculing people is what I do! The tears were fresh on her face; I guessed she was thinking about Potter. Had she known it was my cloak last night? I bent down to her level, about to threaten her if she told anyone. But what happened next was totally unexpected.

The Weaslette reached out and touched my cheek, her eyes still full of tears. I was so shocked, I didn't move. Her hands continued to explore my face, her fingertips gently caressing my eyelids, my lips, the very tip of my nose. Yet I got the feeling she didn't know what she was doing, like she was in a trance. I was like a startled animal, not sure whether to stay or run. I brought my hand to my cheek, letting it touch hers. At that moment she blinked, her vision became focused. And she looked even to scared to scream.

Ginny's POV

I didn't know what happened at that moment, and I don't think I ever will. I was lost in a dream, until something scalded my hand. I snapped out my daze, to see Malfoy crouching beside me, his hand cupping mine to his cheek. That's when I realised. The faint smell of him. The same one as on the cloak. I remembered....

*flashback*

Light fabric touched my bare shoulders. I saw someone sit down. Someone with blonde hair. And they had stayed with me...

*end flashback*

"You....that was your cloak..." I muttered. Why? Why did you care? I wanted to ask, but the silence was so fragile I feared if I spoke it would splinter like glass. I pulled my hand away, unable to bear his touch. His stony eyes bored into me, as if he could read me like a book. But I was written in a different language, one he had never encountered before. His eyes. Staring at me, staring the way Tom stared at me in my dreams. I shook my head slightly, trying to dispel such thoughts. But he was still looking at me. I tried to move back, but I was already pinned against the wall. Tom was looking at me through Malfoy's eyes, the way he had looked at me in my dream. I could feel the fire, licking at my soul, starting to burn my heart...

"NO!" I screamed, frantic with pain. I leapt to my feet and bolted, not caring as I hit my head on a torch bracket on the way past. I skidded to a halt at the portrait of the Fat Lady, yelled the password and ran inside straight to my dorm. What was happening to me? I sobbed into my pillow, torn heart thundering as I cried myself to a restless sleep.