Cannot Speak

The full melodic sound of the music box played as a young woman in jeans sat, listening, on the hard blue plastic seats, eyes closed, as if in a trance. Her red hair was messily tied up in a ponytail, as if done in a hurry, and the wet clothes she wore were plain and rather grubby from the rain she ran in for a long period of time. She had only a bulky bookbag that lay next to her feet on the floor.

"Last call for Flight 128 to London, Britain." The loudspeaker was far harsher than the pretty tune that came from the woman's delicate hands, but she gave no sign that she had heard the announcement. The flight attendant looked curiously at the girl, wondering if she had fallen asleep. She was the only one left sitting in the terminal, and he knew for a fact that this was her flight, for he had caught a glimpse of her ticket. A little more forcefully, he called out, "Last call for Flight 128--" The woman stood up suddenly, tucked the crystal music box into a nondescript box, and walked to the corridor, bag slung over her shoulder and ticket in hand. She handed her ticket to the uniformed man and smiled. The previously annoyed man warmed and smiled back at her, forgetting that he was upset at the fact that he had gotten the midnight shift.

¤ _ _ _ ¤

Draco Malfoy woke up to the rays of sunshine that were leaking through the blinds. He leaned forward and squinted at his digital clock, hoping that he still had time to sleep more before he had to go to work. Luck was with him this time; it was only 5:00am. He fell back on his pillow with a resounding pum. Before he could he could drift back into the sweet dream he was having, the phone rang.

"Uggghhhh..." groaned the pale-haired man. He covered his head with his pillow, trying in vain to shut out the screaming rings. After the fifth one, he decided to pick up. He slid his pillow under his head and reached for the phone. "Hello." His tired voice lagged and he didn't bother to sound awake.

A slight hiatus formed before a voice spoke. "Is this the residence of a Mr. Draco Malfoy?"

Surprised Draco sat up in bed so quickly, he fell onto the floor. With wide panicking eyes, he picked himself up.

"Hello?" questioned the voice when it heard the loud thump. "Are you okay? Do I have the wrong number? I'm so sorry to disturb you. Good morning and have--"

"Wait!" called Draco. He took a deep breath. "This is the Malfoy residence, and you are speaking to Draco Malfoy," he said calmly, in no way reflecting the confusion he felt.

"Draco?" squealed the voice. "Is it really you?"

"Yes...this is he." He paused, trying to think of where he'd heard that voice before. He gave in. "To whom am I speaking?"

Another air bubble of pause formed in the awkward stream of conversation. The voice started giggling. "Draco,ou be so proper? It's me." Draco opened his mouth, about to correct the grammar he thought was wrong. "And no, it isn't 'it is I.' It's me. Indirect object. Or did you forget what Hermoine taught us the day she accidentally made a correction fluent spell instead of a correction fluid spell?"

Draco gasped as he finally realized who it was. "Ginny?"

"Who else can it be?"

"Ginny! How - ? Where - ? Ginny?" Not knowing what to say, Draco stumbled with his words and on his legs and he tried to sit totally on the bed, rather than sit and miss the bed completely. He finally decided to stand and look out the window at the sunrise.

The red-haired girl laughed joyously. "Wanna meet so we can catch up?"

"Definitely!" The word flew out of his mouth before he could stop to think. "Where are you?"

"Actually, I'm somewhere near your house. I looked up your address in the Wizards' Purple Pages." His jaw dropped. "And unless I'm mistaken, your place near the deli that still has the 'Happy Christmas' sign up."

"Yup." He grinned. The deli was about 2 blocks from his home.

"Also, your house is the one with the cute guy standing at the window, wearing only boxers, looking at the sunrise."

Draco gasped and made a move to close the blinds, but a figure with red hair walking in his direction caught his eye and waved. "There's no denying it, Draco. Admit it."

"Yea, I'll admit it," he sighed resignedly. "The guy at the window is pretty damn cute."

"Very funny. Throw on some clothes and let me in, please?"

Not two minutes later, the wooden door swung open. Ginny was standing with her back to the door, admiring the neighborhood, and didn't notice the door open. "I guess you don't want to come in after all," she heard a voice say behind her. She turned around. There he was, saying in a mock sad tone, "Oh well, what a shame. Goodbye," Draco started to close the door.

"Hey!" She laughed and pushed the door to stop it from closing any further. "Is that how you treat an old friend?" She pouted and said, "I'm hurt." Draco had to look closely at her to see if she was serious. A second later, a teasing smile brightened her face and she said, "Well, are you gonna let me in or not?"

"Hmm...let me think about it." Draco put a finger on his chin in a mock thoughtful expression.

"Draco Malfoy! I didn't come all this way just to have the door closed in my face!" complained Ginny indignantly.

"All right, all right! Come in, m'lady." He bowed and motioned her in. She walked in slowly, taking in everything in the house. The living room was the first room she encountered. With its ivory carpeted floor and big windows letting in the sunlight, it was a friendly and bright room. What a contrast it was to the dungeons he lived in when they were in Hogwarts. She felt more than a little grubby in her white dirtied running shoes, sweatshirt, and jeans, all of which had been in and out of the rain.

"I love your place, Draco. It's beautiful." She was awed.

"Thanks, though I can't take all the credit." He motioned for her to sit on the light blue leather couch. "Lisa's the one who did it. She's an interior decorator. Not that we're going out." He said quickly. "We're stopped doing that after the first week. Our schedules were too busy and always conflicted." That wasn't the only reason, but Draco wasn't about to tell the whole truth. Not yet, and maybe not ever.

"Yes," replied Ginny understandingly. "I can see how the owner of the top English clothing store chain would be busy."

"How did you --?" He was shocked. He had only gotten those numbers a couple of weeks before.

"So it is true." She grinned and easily slipped a magazine from her overfilled bag. She held it up to the shocked blond. "The Richest Bachelor of England" read the cover. "Story on page 4. I only picked this up on the way here." Ginny started to leaf through the magazine, obviously trying to find the story."

He snatched the magazine from her. "I remember that. The Witchly Chronicles took horrible pictures of me. Don't read this."

"Why not? I see you in front me right now in not exactly the best outfit." Draco quickly looked over his khakis and navy blue sweater and wondered what was wrong with it. "And we all know I've seen you in worst...and less."

Draco blushed and then laughed at the memory. "If you weren't in the Prefects' bathroom, that never would have happened."

"If you weren't bathing in the Prefects' bathroom, I wouldn't have seen you," Ginny countered.

"How was I supposed to know that you'd walk in on me?" By this time, they were both roaring with laughter. When their chuckles lessened, Draco looked straight into Ginny's eyes and said seriously, "I'm glad you're here."