Footprints

For some reason, I just love Draco. And I know a lot of other people love Draco. I know a lot of other people don’t love Draco. I know that lots of people Love or Hate Ron. I love them both. That’s right. I’m a two-timer. And I know Draco seems a bit OC, but I can’t help it. I like him that way. J

Footprints Three: Running Amuck

    It was dark that night.

    Just as dark, he realized, as the long nights during the war.

    The wind had picked up, mixing falling snow with the blanket of white that had already established itself the night before.

    He had no idea how cold it was outside. He was merely a spectator from the window of his dim dorm room.

    His girlfriend had mentioned that the youngest of her older brothers had a sixth sense about snow. He could tell it had snowed when he woke up without even a glance out the window.

    Useful tool, that.

    But Draco Malfoy found that a snowy morning was one of the only surprises he could tolerate.

    “What’re you doing?” asked a deep voice behind him.

    He smirked at the sound of Vincent Crabbe’s low, simple voice. “Plotting world domination,” Draco replied absently.

    He heard the larger boy snort and walk out.

    It amazed him to no end how ridiculously shallow Crabbe and his equally large counterpart, Goyle, were. Even shallower than Draco himself, which was some feat.

    But then again, people had been telling him he’d become a little deeper since the war.

    The war.

    The war was almost a joke to him now. He’d been so worried, so stressed in fifth year when his father had taken him to his first Death Eater gathering.

    It was his last.

    Draco was bored… unimpressed. The Dark Lord, in his eyes, at least, wasn’t as dark as all the hype portrayed him to be.

    The whole thing seemed like something out of a Muggle movie.

    It was almost… comical. A whole bunch of aging old men in masks, paying homage to a man who had so many wrinkles, he barely looked human.

    Out of curiosity, he’d attended a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

    And it just made sense.

    He stayed with Dumbledore’s forces, and he’d lived. Which was useful.

    Draco sighed and left his dorm. He walked down to the Slytherin common room to find a tall, thin blond girl throwing small, crumbled up pieces of parchment at a shorter, thinner blond.

    “Blaise?”

    The taller blond glanced up at him, her brown eyes questioning.

    “Why are you picking on Pansy? Again?”

    Blaise Zabini shrugged gracefully, crumpling up another piece of parchment in her thin, pale hands. “Easy target,” she replied.

    Draco smirked, putting his hands in the pockets of his black slacks. “She is, isn’t she?” He sighed.

    “Something wrong?” Blaise asked. “Missing your Juliet, Romeo?”

    Draco snorted. “You’re one to talk, Captain of the SS Scarhead.”

    “Don’t make me put the slug hex on you,” she warned. “You know I hate it when you call him that.”

    “You don’t know the slug hex.”

    “Do so,” Blaise replied, sounding a lot like an eight-year-old. “Ron taught me.”

    Draco blinked. “Why?”

    “To use it on you, why else?” Blaise replied bluntly. “Now move. You’re blocking my target.”

    He stepped to the side, and watched as another piece of parchment hit Pansy in the head.

    The shorter blond finally flew to her feet, and advanced toward Blaise, who got up as well.

    “Bye, Draco,” Blaise said, heading for the portrait hole. She disappeared through it, and Draco watched Pansy fume and sit back down.

    “What are you up to, then?” he asked her.

    “Like you care,” she spat. “Why don’t you go find your sweet little red-headed angel.”

    Draco glared at her and stormed out of the portrait hole.

    She was still bitter. Draco had a feeling Pansy always would be. He’d broken up with her when the war started, because he found himself falling arse-backwards in love with Ginny Weasley.

    It had been very strange at first, awkward to be wit her around other people. But they learned to ignore the whispers and stares.

    When the war had gone into full swing, no one really cared anymore. The lines between houses were so blurred even the famous Harry Potter had fallen for a Slytherin.

    As for Pansy, Draco had tried to still be her friend, but she’d have none of that. With Pansy, it was always all or nothing.

    The halls were dimly lit, as it was getting late, and he stood in front of the Gryffindor portrait hole, which was, had always been and would probably always be guarded by The Fat lady.

    She stared at him judgmentally. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

    His lips twisted into a malicious grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

    She snorted.

    “Oh,” Draco said softly. “Are those bags I see under your eyes?”

    The Fat Lady screamed. “What?! Bags?! NO!”

    “Doesn’t this ever get old for you?”

    Draco turned and smiled strongly at the Head Girl, Hermione Granger. Her arms carried a heavy stack of books and she gave him a fondly annoyed smirk. Her curly brown hair was pulled back into a half ponytail and her school uniform looked neat, as if she’d just put it on from being washed and pressed.

    “Never,” he told her.

    “Come to see your lady fair?” Hermione asked.

    “You know it.”

    “Plug your ears,” she ordered. He did as he was told, knowing that she was giving the portrait the password, which he knew to be “sugar bombs.” If the Head Girl found out that a Slytherin knew the password to the Gryffindor tower, she wouldn’t be happy. Then again, as Head Girl, she really wasn’t supposed to be letting him into the Gryffindor common room, especially not late at night.

    The girl had certainly changed. Draco blamed it on her relationship with Ron Weasley. Not that he minded. She was, after all, letting him in to see his girlfriend.

    The portrait hole opened slowly, and she led him into the Gryffindor common room, which was fairly quiet, sans two voices coming from the large, red couch in front of the blazing fireplace. One voice was fairly nasal and sharp, the other was very low.

    Draco smirked and made his way over to the couch. He leaned over and watched as Ron Weasley and Harry Potter did their divination homework.

    “I’m gonna drown in a giant toilet bowl!” Ron proclaimed, lifting one long, thick finger.

    “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Hermione muttered, setting her things down on a table.

    Harry snorted and laughed, pushing his thick glasses up his nose. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna get strangled by a giant hamster!”

    He couldn’t help it. It was just too easy. Potter had left himself wide open. Draco reached down, placed his hands around Harry’s neck and squeezed slowly.

    “Will a giant ferret do?”

    Harry shot to his feet, wand out in a snap, breathing heavily, eyes wild. He blinked at Draco. “You ferrety bastard.”

    Draco smirked. “You’re such a girl. I still don’t know what Blaise sees in you.”

    Harry glared harshly, and sat back down.

    He knew he shouldn’t have done it. Not this soon after the war, when paranoia was still at an all-time high. Especially for Potter. Then, again, Draco would probably be paranoid, too, if some maniac had been trying to kill him for seven years.

    “Oh, come on, Scarhead, it was a joke,” Draco said.

    “Sod off, Goldilocks,” Harry snapped.

    “Harry!” Hermione cried, offended by his words.

     Draco saw Ron’s ears perk up, and the tall red-head glanced over the couch. “Was that Mione’s scolding voice I just heard?”

    “Hello, Ron,” she said, sitting down to do her homework.

    “Where’ve you been, then?” Harry asked, following Ron‘s line of sight to look at Hermione.

    “Meeting my secret lover,” she replied casually, pulling out her parchment and quill.

    “Yes, and how is Madame Pince this fine evening?” Draco asked jokingly. “Or is it true that you snog the actual books in the library?”

    Hermione raised an eyebrow at the blond Slytherin. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

    That was the last straw. He sighed, and ran a hand through his blond hair. “Right. I’ll be in the girls’ dorm.”

    Hermione sighed. “Why am I letting you do this again?”

    “Because I’m a hot blond,” Draco reasoned. “And you wouldn’t deprive your future sister-in-law of a hot blond, would you?”

    “If MacGonagal sees you, I was too busy to notice you walk upstairs,” Hermione said, and then stopped herself. “Future sister-in-law?”

    Draco laughed as he walked up the stairs to the girls’ dorm, imagining the Head Girl and Gryffindor Quidditch Keeper turning red at his words. He loved being such a menace. He was so damned good at it. And Ron and Hermione were such easy targets.

    The girls’ dorm was dark, but he knew the way to Ginny’s room. He wasn’t expecting to pass anyone in the hall, but there was no avoiding Lavender Brown.

    He gave her a kind smirk. “Hey, Brown.”

    “Hi, Draco,” she replied, brushing past him, her brown hair wet from a shower.

    He felt horrible for Lavender. She’d witnessed her best friend brutally slaughtered during the early years of the war, and it had affected her greatly. Where she’d been a little gossipy chatter-box, she was now a very quiet, solitary girl. As much as she used to annoy him, Draco had to admit he missed the way she used to be, if only because she didn’t seem alive anymore.

    “Hey, Brown?” Draco called.

    She turned to him, eye curious.

    He paused for a moment. “…Goodnight.”

    She waved, and disappeared down the hall.

    He shook his head and knocked on a door that was identical to all the other doors.

    It opened slowly, and small red-head opened it. Her hair hung down past her shoulders, and her brown eyes smiled up at him. She was wearing a pair of dark green pajamas.

    And then he realized that they were his.

    “How did you get those?” he asked in surprise, gently pulling at one of her sleeves.

    “I took them,” she replied matter-of-factly, smiling. “Hello, to you, too.”

    “Hi,” he replied. “Are we going to stand here and banter, or are you going to let me in?”

    “What are you planning to do to me?” she asked with a snicker, backing into her room, leading him in.

    He shrugged. “Oh, you know. The usual.” He backed her into her room, not paying attention to wood paneled walls or wooden floors. He almost tripped over the red and gold rug next to her bed. He backed her up against her bedpost, relieved that none of her roommates were around. He pressed his lips against hers, and she began to sit down on the bed, but jumped back up.

    He let her go with a look of confusion. “You alright, Gin?”

    She nodded, and looked down, picking up a large book. “Almost sat on this,” she informed him.

    “Looks like one of Granger’s books,” Draco commented.

    Ginny smirked. “It is. Which is why it wouldn’t do to sit on it.”

    He took the hefty book from his girlfriend and snickered. “One of the many loves of Hermione Granger.”

    Ginny snickered. “It’s a wonder Ron doesn’t leave her for his broom.”

    Draco shook his head. “Why are we talking about your prat of a brother when I’m trying to kiss you?”

    “Don’t call my brother a prat!” Ginny cried. “Only Hermione and I can call him a prat!”

    He shook his head, marveling at her ridiculous reasoning, standing in front of him, holding that large book, amazing hair, in his pajamas. He tried to lean in and kiss her again, but she giggled wildly and smacked him in the stomach with book. He grunted as he hit the ground, and blinked, very confused. It wasn’t really that Ginny was stronger than he was, though she was quite strong. He just hadn’t been expecting to be walloped with one of Hermione Granger’s books.

    He wondered what had brought on this bout of immaturity, but she backed away from him, still giggling, heading for the door.

    Oh. Okay.

    Draco got on his hands and knees and gave her a feral look. “You’re going to get it now.” She squeaked and ran out the door.

    He would have chased after her, but he just didn’t feel like it. Instead, he flopped himself down on her bed with a sigh, and looked at the book that was still lying on her red blanket. He lifted it up, and opened it to find that it wasn’t a book at all. It was Ginny’s photo album. He sighed and flipped to the first page, to find all the Weasleys smiling and waving up at him. It had obviously been taken a couple of years ago, since they all looked much younger, and much happier, and there were nine people instead of the eight that were left.

    He knew she’d been looking at the photo album a lot. He knew it meant a lot to her. He also knew she missed her older brother terribly. But Ginny never spoke of him, and she claimed she never really thought about him. Draco knew better.

    And then she sat on him, her brown eyes conveying amusement and a little anger. “That was a mean trick, Draco Malfoy,” she accused.

    Draco rolled his eyes. “I’m a Slytherin, Ginny. I’m exhibiting normal behavior.”

    She scoffed. “Normal?”

    “Get stuffed,” he replied, turning the page of the photo album.

    “Why are you looking at that?” Ginny asked him curiously.

    “Cause it was out,” Draco replied, glancing over the picture of Ron and Ginny dueling with spatulas in their family kitchen. They couldn’t have been older than eight and nine. “Why? You not want me to look at it?”

    “I didn’t think you’d be interested,” she admitted. “These go back far before I ever even knew you existed.”

    “How it must have pained you not to know me,” he said overdramatically.

    She kissed his nose and snickered. “Yes. I was a miserable little twit before you shined your over-bearing, absolutely annoying light into my life.” She slid off of him and snuggled next to him on the big four-poster, and pointed out pictures, and told him stories about her family’s life before the war, and when they’d gone through the entire album, she looked up at him.

    “Draco?”

    “Hm?”

    “What are you planning to do after you leave Hogwarts?”

    He blinked. Of all the questions she could have asked, this was the one he wasn’t prepared for. He’d mulled it over himself a number of times, and he’d thought about what he’d like to do, and what he was capable of doing, and nothing really stuck out to him. Nothing at all.

    “Why?” he asked her warily.

    “I’m just curious,” Ginny replied. “Harry’s been talking about it a lot lately, says he might work for the ministry.”

    Draco blinked, puzzled. “They’re going to let him work at the ministry? Have you any idea how much Muggle medication that boy is on?”

    “Just answer the question, Draco.”

    “Well… I don’t know what I wanna do. What do you think I should do?” he asked her.

    “Well… you could be a Quidditch player,” she offered.

    “That was a dream that was kicked in the balls when I played with your brothers,” he told her. It was true. Her older brothers had really trounced him.

    “You could… apply for a ministry job,” she went on.

    “No. Just… no.”

    “You could teach?”

    He blinked. “Without killing my students?”

    “Good point.” She sighed. “Draco, what do you want to do?”

    “Be a Lumberjack?”

    She raised an eyebrow.

    “Sorry,” he said. “Muggle reference I picked up off of Granger and Finnighan the other day.”     

    “You? Muggle reference?” Ginny asked, clutching at her heart. “I think I’m gonna have a cardiac!”

    He snickered. “Yeah. Seamus got up on a table during lunch and recited this whole thing about being a lumberjack and dressing up like a girl and hanging around in bars. The whole thing was very interesting.”

    Ginny sighed. “So… I don’t know… maybe you could be an Auror?”

    He shrugged. “That’s a possibility. I don’t know, Ginny. I just haven’t been thinking about it much.” He glanced at her. “Is something wrong?”

    “I just don’t want you to leave here and not know what to do with yourself, is all,” she explained, scratching his stomach comfortingly.

    “It isn’t as if I’m going to be living on the streets,” he reminded her, closing the photo album. “I did inherit the Malfoy estate and everything that comes with it.”

    “I know, but you can’t just sit around in that house for the rest of your life, can you?” she asked. “You’ve got to have something.”

    Draco sighed, and rolled onto his side to face her. “If it means so much to you, I’ll apply for Auror Academy.”

    “No,” she replied. “I want you to do what you want to do.”

    “But I don’t know what I want to do,” he reminded her. “Ginny, I have plenty of time to figure things out. Don’t worry about me. I’ve got everything under control.”

    He really did. He honestly wasn’t worried about his uncertain future. It would be certain when it showed itself to him. He had more pressing things to think about, like classes, and the up-coming Yule Ball, and imagining Ginny without any clothing on.

    She blinked at him and he became aware of the lopsided grin on his face. “You’re imagining me naked, aren’t you?” she asked with a giggle.

    He laughed and pinned her beneath him. “Now you read minds? I knew you were amazing, but this is new.”

    She sighed and wrapped her arms around him. “Are you sure you’re not going to completely shut down after Hogwarts and become a grouchy hermit or anything?”

    Draco raised an eyebrow. “I’m always grouchy,” he reminded her. “But I’ll never become a hermit. I promise.” He kissed her deeply, and she sighed contentedly.

    Screw the future, he liked to live in the now, where he was snogging the pretty red head underneath him.

    In fact, screw everyone.