Regret and Betrayal

Chapter Eight

Re-Occurring Memories

~*~~*~~*~

"Yet if hope has flown away
in a night, or in a day,
in a vision, or in none,
is it therefore the less gone?"

It was her dream. She read it twice trying to understand why her dream would be in a fairytale. Did it actually happen? But she didn't have time to answer this as the door handle was turning. Her head snapped up as she watched the door snap out of the frame.

She thought of hiding but that would do no real good so she just sat there and waited for him to see her. One thing she did know was that it would take more than just a simple explanation of what she was doing in his office for her to be able to get out of there. She knew enough of him now to presume that.

He entered the room and walked straight to the little passage full of bookcases. It seemed like forever before he came back out and she held her breath. She waited patiently but grew ever more nervous as to what she would come up with as a feasible excuse. She remained slouched in his chair and when he emerged from them and walked towards the desk. It was then that she noticed what he was wearing. Had he changed his clothes? she thought as he walked over. He had on a leather jacket with gloves which he had now taken off and his hair was disheveled as if he had the wind blowing through it. Sifting through the papers, he seemed to not notice her or just chose to ignore her there. But she waited for him to make the first move.

As he picked up a few of the papers full of sketches and the so-called 'ramblings' that Ginny had christened them as, he furrowed his eyebrows as if there was something wrong. Ginny bit her lip, she remembered them falling on the ground and she knew he was the kind of person who would memorize exactly where he left anything. He just continued looking through them. She looked at him closer, if she didn't know any better she could swear he was just playing for time, as if he were thinking of what to say. She hoped not because she would rather not relive what they were talking about before she passed out.

"So, find anything interesting," he said without raising his head.

She jumped a little in surprise exhaling the breath she had forgotten she was holding. In all honesty she never thought he would start there. "Pardon?" It didn't look like he had moved his lips, if she hadn't been looking at him she could have sworn it wasn't him that spoke. He looked up now to see her watching him wearily.

"Did you find anything interesting?" he repeated leaning on the desk.

So he wanted to act ignorant did he? Fine I can play that too. "Not much really, just a few myths and a fairytale or two." She leaned back on the chair telling him he couldn't rattle her.

He cocked an eyebrow. Obviously she had gone back to being the Weasley he knew. "Really? Then would you care to clarify why you are in my office?" He leaned forward.

Ginny did the same. "Well that is entirely your fault." She gave him a sardonic smile.

He stopped. "What? How am I to blame for this?"

"You locked me in here," she said matter of factly. "I have been forced to stay her for Merlin knows how long waiting for you to return. Don't worry though, I've had plenty of time to think about what I could do to you to make you pay for it. But right now all I want to do is go home."

"Home?"

"Did I stutter? There is nothing here for me, I would rather spend time in a place I actually want to be."

"Nothing for you to stay for, huh?" He couldn't believe this. The nerve of her. "Okay then. Go, see if I care. You invade my house, lie, and then tell me that you like me, and then you say there's nothing here for you? Okay fine, go." He threw the papers on the desk and walked over to the door. He held it open and gestured for her to leave. "This time don't come back."

Resolutely, Ginny stood up and began to walk to the door. "See, nothing to stay for," she said as she passed him.

He slammed it shut before she could cross the frame because he had had enough of this, she retreated back a little. He noticed it immediately. "Well how am I supposed to act around you, huh? I mean - I can't get close to you and you don't make any effort to talk to me either."

"What do you mean you can't get close to me?" she said regaining a little of her confidence again.

"Look at the facts okay?" He counted off on his fingers. "The only times I have ever gotten close to you was when you were doing your job, getting molested by my father or when you felt the need to confess your sins. Then the second I do get close to you, you cry, pass out or run away. I don't know whether I should let you go or tie you down."

"How the hell do you think I feel? I was forced to stay here okay. I didn't plan on this happening Malfoy! It just did. I cannot help it, but I am not going to put myself in a position where I know I'm going to get hurt. Not again." She sounded upset but she held her ground and just sat back down on his desk's chair.

"Again?" he said to himself. He watched her cross her arms; she's been in this situation before? He guessed she didn't want to talk about it. Of course, it was the only way to explain it. A burned child stays away from fire, he thought as he went over to her.

Ginny was rigid all over, she really didn't feel like reliving her past again. "What?" she said defensively as he approached her.

He knew he probably shouldn't but he did it anyway. "Ginny, what happened?"

She hadn't expected him to ask this, she thought she had made it obvious that she didn't want to talk about it. So she did what she could, she avoided the question with a swift subject change. She looked around the room, soon her eyes drifted back to his. They looked like they were pleading for an answer. Her eyes softened as she stared into them, feeling uncomfortably comfortable. If that even made sense, she wasn't sure of anything right now.

Draco noticed immediately her change in looks. It was then he felt enough courage to ask her the one question he had been burning for her to admit. "Why are you staring at me like that, do you love me or something?" He decided it was probably better to ask her in a general way, there was no way she'd admit it if he asked straight forward. Knowing her well enough as he did now he knew she'd probably run away, she seemed to do that whenever anyone got close to her. He had a feeling it was something in her past that made her this way, or someone.

That's exactly what she did, her eyes drifted to his hair of all places. His hand went to his hair as if there was something wrong with it. "What?" he asked curiously.

Good he had fallen for it. "Nothing, it's just that you need a bit of a hair cut. Have you got a pair of scissors or something I could do it for you." She got up and started searching everywhere, well everywhere except for his direction.

***

I hate this, why do all bloody rich wizards have to have such bloody large bloody houses. "Bloody hell!" she exclaimed as she almost slipped from the high banister. She tried to lean over even further, damn those bloody wards in the house. How was she supposed to clean this high without the aid of magic? Whose stupid idea was this? She tried to lean further even more to get to the corner of the portrait. That was when she looked down.

There was a small ledge in line with the top of the stairs where her feet could easily slide along. She weighed her options of having to continue leaning and not finish it properly then having to be yelled at by the butler for slacking off, or climbing over and ceasing the noise. She continued for a while before overruling her common sense and told herself that she would just hold on tighter. It was her life on the line after all.

She trepidly scrambled over the banister and made her way over to the narrow ledge as she gripped onto the wall and began to clean it with the dirt filled gray cloth in her hand. It was going well until she dropped the cloth while trying to turn it over with one hand. She watched it as it fell to the ground in slow motion and sighed heavily when she knew she couldn't just conjure it. She had to go downstairs. She began to turn around.

"Are you sure that's wise?" she heard and spun around so fast she lost her balance and fell backwards.

She screamed shortly as she felt her weight changing and the breakfast she had had that morning turning around in her stomach.

"Oh shit," Cyrus said to himself at perhaps causing her ill - fated death and reached forward quickly. He steadied himself with the other hand on the banister.

She began to fall before something grabbed the front of her apron. She looked up at her apparent attacker and savior.

It was her employer's arrogant son. She tried not to roll her eyes. Of course he would happen along. She didn't want to talk to any of the house's owners at the moment, not after she had spent most of her morning trying to calm down Sara one of the new maids. Apparently he had yelled at her after opening his curtains because he wasn't ready to get up yet. "I trust you've tied this correctly?" he asked her, bored with the conversation already he tightened his grip on her as he felt it begin to slip. He looked behind her to the ground, she still had both feet on the ledge but because he had grabbed her she had now leaned to the side and was hanging by his arm alone. "I'd hate for the ironic death of you, because of what your profession says you have to wear." He smiled dryly and caught her smiling back up at him.

***

"I have servants and a personal stylist for that-." Ginny rolled her eyes where she was sure he couldn't see. "Will you stop pacing?" he said to her back.

"I am not pacing," she answered defensively; with her back still turned she didn't notice him coming up behind her.

"Yes you are and you're ruining my carpet just - come here." He took her arm and pulled her close. "Why are you avoiding the question?"

"Why are you asking it?"

"Well, knowledge is the key to power as my father always says." He felt her tense at the mention of his father, he mentally kicked himself for brining it up again.

"Is that why? You want power." He was sure she'd pull away if he wasn't holding her.

"No." He hesitated, he didn't want to be the first but this was killing him. "I want you." He ran a hand through her hair. He could feel her shiver under his touch. "But, I have come to realise from the past few weeks that to be able to even consider that option I must have some sort of confidence to achieve it."

"As I recall," she said, mischievously raising one eyebrow, "I hardly believe that you are a man who lacks confidence given our past experiences." She continued after removing his hand, "If I do remember correctly, you once had enough 'confidence,'" she said signaling air quotes, "to call me 'Potter's wannabe girlfriend' and 'an irritable freckle that could never be removed.' Well - Mr. - Malfoy, who want me to be their wannabe girlfriend now? Huh?"

Draco shook his head, smiling somewhat. "You know it's true what they say, fail history and you're doomed to repeat it. But look, if you do choose to accept that I have possibly changed since my youth then get back to me, preferably within this week. I, personally have to floo my hairdresser so if you'll excuse me."

Ginny looked bewildered. "Your hairdresser?"

"Never question a woman's intuition, especially on style. I do listen to you, you know maybe because I care enough to decipher your ramblings I don't know, please excuse me. Perhaps I could get a cut for my birthday, it's coming up in a few weeks." Ginny turned to leave and opened the door that led to the stairs. Draco knew there was a possibility that she might not come back so he kept his gaze upon the fireplace. Upon hearing the door shut a sudden pain wrenched its way through his heart and into his arm as he reached for the floo powder on the fireplace. He was about to grab a handful when a hand placed itself upon his arm and turned him around.

"Then don't question me, I did ask if you had a pair of scissors."

***

He had been passing to go downstairs when he had seen a hand holding the wall and had leaned over the banister to see who it belonged to. She was standing on the most impossible of ledges and cleaning a portrait of his father. She was pointedly ignoring his comments to her and had passed the dirty cloth she was holding over his mouth more than was necessary. He would have smiled at this if he hadn't wanted his presence to go unnoticed. The cloth fell and she had watched it fall, so had he and he knew she would have to climb back over to go and get it and no doubt try this stunt again. The girl was insane.

"Oh shit," Cyrus said to himself at perhaps causing her ill - fated death and reached forward quickly. He steadied himself with the other hand on the banister. "I trust you've tied this correctly? I'd hate for the ironic death of you, because of what your profession says you have to wear."

"Oh thank you sir." She summoned a fake smile from deep, deep within her.

He helped her move across the ledge to the stairs so that she could place her feet in-between the miniature columns of the spiral stair case.

He rose and eyebrow. "Back to that are we? I told you my name is Cyrus, I would hope that you could at least follow one order I give you?"

"I have already told you," she said struggling to get her footing. "I cannot call you that. It's inappropriate."

"Really?" he said watching her put a hand on the banister. He did nothing to help, in his opinion holding her was helping enough.

"Yes, sir." She stood grounded over the banister with him still holding her up.

"Do you think it's wise to argue with your employers when you're in this kind of position?" She turned her head slightly to look down, it was a long way.

"Well you wouldn't just let me fall." She paused. "Would you?" she added upon seeing his face.

He leaned into her dangerously and pulled her toward him slowly. "Do not presume to know who I am, servant. You know nothing about me, so do not be so bold as to think that you do." His voice was soft but it was laced with danger.

She looked at him and had shrunk back in her eyes, that stare could burn through a rock. He couldn't possibly kill her could he? It was murder and he'd never get away with it. Then again, considering the family he belonged to she shouldn't put it past him. She looked back at him, into his eyes. His look was challenging as if he was telling her not to mess with him at that moment, but was daring her to anyway.

With that her whole outlook on this changed. He couldn't just threaten her like this just because he was in a bitching mood. On solid ground was one thing, but pushing her off the stairs was plain criminal. She had thought about retreating back but no-one should treat anyone else like this, ever. This was her life she was fighting for.

"It's Samara."

He lost his place. "Excuse me?" he said simply, he couldn't believe his ears.

"My name is not servant." She leaned forward into his grasp of her apron where he had pulled her up. She held onto the banister for support. "It's Samara."

"How dare you?" It came out as an empty, harsh laugh, but there was slight relief behind them. She could hear it as well as feel it in the tight grasp of her apron. He pulled her further even more to yell in her face. Something told her that he actually needed this, to yell at something or anything. She just happened to be the first thing that pissed him off.

"Please let me up, Sir. Thank you for saving my life but there is a sta- servants meeting in the kitchen that I have to attend to." She gave him a sardonic smile and began to pull herself up only to be obstructed by Cyrus holding her back.

She only now began to get worried. Subconsciously her hands began to tremble softly.

Cyrus, whose other hand, was rested right next to hers to hold her up, felt this and a smile crept onto his mouth. She thought she was able to handle it didn't she? He laughed inside. How pathetic.

"What's the matter, have you lost your sudden source of confidence? You actually thought you could challenge me?" he laughed in her face. His look hardened and his eyes turned to steel. "You have no idea what I could do to you."

She stiffened. "No, but I'm sure I can imagine it."

"Could you?"

"I'm pretty sure you could just push me back right now and let me die. And I'm pretty sure you would have no problem telling your father how I happened to 'slip' on the stairs. I am also sure that you're in a pissy mood and just need someone to bitch at. I just happened to be the first you saw that challenged you instead of ran away or agreeing with you. Let me guess, after trying a hand at Sara because she's new you went on the prowl for fresh meat. Well, do I meet your standards?" She spread out her arms to display her attitude.

"As a matter of fact, yes." She almost breathed out a sigh of relief had it not been for the fact she was too scared to breathe.

"Good, now will you let me up?"

"I suppose I could." He seemed to pause.

"What do you want?" She crossed her arms over his on her chest. "Another apple, because I don't have any."

"No," he said slyly. "But that attitude you have could do with an adjustment. You're lucky I was in this mood or I would have pushed you over."

"Well I told you, you wouldn't have done it."

He started. "And why not?"

"Because you were in a mood. I grew up with many brothers; believe me I know when a man is in a mood."

His interest peaked. "You have a lot of brothers?" he found himself asking and distantly remembered asking another woman that some time ago.

"Yeah, about five. They're all older than me."

"Really?" He saw potential in her as he pulled her forward harshly ignoring her complaints. Passing a hand over her head he pulled out the pin in it allowing it to spill down over her shoulders. It was just as long as hers. But it was brown. He took one lock of it and ran his spare hand through it, seeing if he could still do it.

Samara grabbed hold of the hand that secured her to the stairs completely loosing her balance when he pulled at her hair. "What are you doing?" she asked trying to see to her side.

"Shut up," he said abruptly still testing his abilities. He smiled when he saw the strands turn wine red in his fingers. It worked. He passed it through the rest of her hair and marveled at her sudden resemblance.

"Don't tell me to bloody shut up what the hell are you doing to me?"

He turned on her angrily and yelled at her for talking to him in such a manner.

"What? Who the hell is Virginia?"

His anger peaked to a melting point. "You do not speak her name, do you hear me?" he roared. He shook her vigorously and moved toward the banister, this in turn caused her to lean even further backwards because her hands were out of reach to hold her up.

She shrank back and nodded, the tears beginning to well in her eyes.

"How well do you think you know me now?" he said acidly holding her almost ninety degrees to the banister. She closed her eyes tight and the tears in her eyes fell and ran to across to just under her ears into her red hair. Her hands clung to his that pulled on her apron and she prayed to Merlin that the bow at the back wouldn't tug apart, she cursed inwardly at her laziness in the morning. She would have laughed at the fact it was that, one of the stupidest things she hated to do every morning, which would have to save her life during the day if she wasn't busy trying to scream.

But nothing was coming out of her mouth.

Terror had stopped the sound before it even began to form in her throat.

"Well, how well do you know me?" he asked her again. He was obviously waiting for her to answer.

She found her voice and sobbed, "I don't, I'm sorry. But please - you can't kill me, please."

His face became set. "I can't? Do you not learn from these experiences, servant?" She looked across to him, the look in his eyes were murderous. Her terror multiplied.

He was going to drop her.

"Oh god - please no, please."

"Resorted to begging?" He tutted to her shaky breaths and once again pulled her closer so that his mouth was by her ear. Her hands still gripped onto his, she was too terrified to move. "That's not what my pissy mood wants to hear, Samara." Her eyes opened wide. With that he let go of her apron, pushing her back and relieving the tension in his hand.

The scream pelted out of her as she began to fall. She saw the ceiling and the painting floating away as her eyes became blurry. She faintly saw the banister and a dark figure look over before she fainted.

Cyrus watched her idly as she fell, was it possible that people could fall slowly? His eyes wondered to the large corridor as his father and a group of others came running out to the scream. "Oh shit," he said under his breath. They and his father would see her fall and him at the top and would obviously put two and two together. "Bloody hell."

He had no choice.

He apparated to where she was about to make contact with the ground and she landed heavily in his arms. Her eyes were closed, she had fainted.

"What on Merlin's given Earth!"

Cyrus turned around quickly. "She was cleaning up there and I think I possibly startled her, she fell before I could catch her though."

Paethozar stood next to the girl's head and looked at her closely for any injuries and then raised his eyes to his son. Cyrus' eyes remained cold. He refused to let anything show. "Well you caught her again just in time. Thank Merlin I really would not like to explain this to the ministry. Give her to someone to take her to her - erm - wherever it is that she resides." He waved his hand indignantly and walked off, his associates walking off behind her. "Oh and when you're done, see me later," he said without turning around. The others following his father gave Cyrus pats on the shoulder for a job well done and congratulated him as they walked by.

"Yes father," Cyrus sighed aggravated. He looked down at her once again as her head fell backwards exposing her neck. Why couldn't they have just stayed where they were? Why the hell she had to bloody scream I don't know. It wouldn't have hurt. He had to die that way once, a most unfortunate accident had his butler not pushed him. Of course he had told him to but that was beside the point. All he wanted was to see her fall, sure it was not the true specimen but she was close enough. With her biting remarks and confident attitude he had almost reminisced when he broke her down yet again.

"Here sir, I'll take her." A butler came up to him and held out his arms.

Cyrus adjusted her so that he could give her over but as he did so her head came forward and rested on his shoulder and her hair spilled over her face. Without seeing her face clearly he could've sworn she was...

"No, no I can take her. Just lead the way."

"But - but sir?"

"What, you're deaf? Do I have to repeat it again?"

"No, no of course not sir, this way."

He mentally stabbed the man in the back. He really hated that word and servants tended to use it as much as possible. He was sure they were aiming for a record of 'how many Sirs they could fit in a sentence.'

The man led him through narrow corridors and he swore he could smell food. That only meant he was headed toward the kitchen; he hadn't been there since he was a child. He paused for a fraction of a second to quickly change her hair back to its original colour. He couldn't have anyone seeing what he had done. The story had only created a small amount of time he had to catch her and would have prevented him from doing anything else, not that he should be doing that anyway. He entered the kitchen shortly after the butler did. It was steamy and warmer than the rest of the house. As he passed with the girl in his arms every body turned toward him, wandering what had happened to her. They were grouped around a large table in the middle, no doubt the servants meeting she was talking about having to attend. There were gasps of surprise, both of seeing her unconscious and of him actually setting foot there.

He looked around as he entered and politely addressed those who were closer to him as he passed them directly. Some of the other kitchen maids had - smiles? - on their faces, he wasn't sure if they were for her or him.

He was quite intrigued when some of the looks bordered on envy. He mentally smiled.

***

She had always wondered if his hair was as thin as it looked. Apparently it was, especially when it was wet.

"Have you ever done this before?"

"No."

"What?" he cried sitting up rapidly.

"Relax, I was just joking. I have got six older brothers you know. When I was younger and my mum was ill I was second in command for cutting hair. We couldn't afford to go to a barber or a salon, whichever you call it. Little did I know that I would end up here in one that's built in right next to your bedroom."

"Hey you have to keep up with the times," he said.

"Yeah, because everyone has their own next to their bedroom," she said sarcastically.

"I don't see why they shouldn't, it's a must have facility."

"Only for you, the vainest person I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"Pleasure?"

"Anyway, I remember once when I cut Ron's hair for school, about a week before school started I think, my fifth year you know," she said in a proud way.

"Ooh," he chimed in. "Interesting."

"I had a terrible cold," she said almost to herself. She smiled.

Draco noticed it, he had come to notice everything that she did. Everything she said, how she looked he saw it all. She was extraordinarily pretty in a way he couldn't pin point. Even without her own clothes that so easily complimented her, a fresh face of no makeup and her hair loosely pulled back into a pony tail so stray strands of hair fell out, she still had a radiance about her-.

"Are you listening? I would think that hearing one of Ron's embarrassing moments would make you laugh."

"I am listening," he said.

"Well what did I just say?"

"You were cutting his hair in front of the fireplace because the lights went out, he was very nervous-."

"Okay so you were listening. Sit up." He did as he was told as she bent over to dry his hair.

"As you were saying?"

"Oh yeah, um where was I?"

"Very nervous."

"Okay, so as I was cutting his hair and some dust from the fire place got up my nose and I sneezed. Before I had a chance to see what I had done, Ron was already screaming." Draco's face was practically red.

"I remember that." Draco was in stitches.

"I know. You Slytherins had a field day."

"But - but I don't understand. Why didn't you just fix it with a spell," he spluttered out.

"Mum wouldn't let us. The last time we did, not my fault mind you, Percy's hair changed style everyday. Once he went from completely bald to long hair down to his waist overnight."

"I - can't - breathe." Draco was finding it difficult to speak; embarrassing tales were obviously not wasted on him.

***

"So, what really happened?"

"Sorry?" He sat on his father's chair in front of the fire and watched the flames burning through the wood.

"The girl, the maid. What really happened?"

"I told you already."

"Son," he said in a resigned voice. "I am a very tired man right now, I have been in meetings all day and I have yet to go to the ministry later. I may also be old, but I am not senile. Do not think I didn't notice the way she was dressed. As we both know, not many newly staffed maids walk around with their hair untied and with a ripped apron around the owner's home. In their own quarters, perhaps, but they would not dare. I have met her before and I must say she did not strike me as the type to be breaking the rules of the household."

"Are they written down somewhere?" he cried.

He chose to ignore him. "I also noticed the colour of her hair."

Cyrus sat back in the chair as much as he could.

"The girl had tearstains running to her ears for Merlin's sake, Cyrus." He stood up and walked around his desk. "She was terrified and the fall could not have allowed her to cry like that." As he sat to the edge of his desk he sighed heavily. "You cannot go around killing my staff, Cyrus. I do not want a servant to be tied to me if she is accusing you of attempted murder."

"Samara."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Her name, it's Samara."

"I couldn't give a flying - you know the girl's name?"

"She told it to me when I was holding her up. She did fall but then she started going on and her attitude just started me off. She said how I wouldn't kill her and-."

"What?"

"I know, she actually thought she knew me so well."

"You - you tried to kill her because she said you couldn't? That is why the girl fell four stories to the ground, because of a wounded ego?" He shook his head and went to sit down again. "Oh, son, what am I going to do with you? I can't explain this anymore. I'll have to fire her." He looked around his desk for a piece of parchment.

"What, no you can't fire her."

"And why not? She is a liability now and I cannot be tied to people who can damage my reputation, you know this already."

"What if I can convince her?"

"Convince her to do what exactly?"

"Not make anything of this."

"I cannot take that risk. Mortals are prone to lying and deceit, I am not going to dig my own grave."

"Well, put her in my hands."

Paethozar looked at his son, there seemed to be some sort of connection between the two of them. He didn't want her to go. "Why?" It was more out of curiosity than anything.

"We need all the staff we can get and if you fire her that's more work for the others and more pay to each of them."

"Since when do you care for the work load of servants?" There was no answer, just a guilty silence. "You like the girl don't you? Son, there is no connection between masters and servants, it's not done. It's... wrong."

"I do not like anything to do with her -."

"Then why the sudden - need to have her around."

He had him. "She's different to the others father. She - has a quality that the other maids don't possess."

"This quality wouldn't happen to be under her skirt would it?"

"No, I had nothing like that in mind." Though now it's been planted... "I just... she disagrees with me for a change. The others always act scared or run away. Today I was in a really bad mood and I needed someone to scream at."

"So you push her off of a four story banister?"

"No, that came when she pissed me off," he said offhandedly. "Before that she actually told me that I was in a, I think she said 'pissy,' mood and was looking around for someone to bitch at. I liked it."

"You liked a woman talking back to you."

"It was different."

"I see. You will take care of this situation I take it, if I pass her over to you?"

"Yes, fully."

"And you won't actually go through with killing her this time will you?"

"No, I promise."

"I'm not sure I should take promises from you."

"Why not?"

"Because you're my son."

***

How hard could this be? The angled bones of his cheeks gave his face an even surface. She drew the razor across his skin in slow, careful movements. She moved on to his neck and tentatively worked round his Adam's apple as he tilted his head upwards to give her a better angle for her to see what she was doing. Then she began with the awkward, small movements over his top lip and chin. All the while trying to avoid looking into his eyes that seemed stuck on her. She failed miserably.

"I've seen you watching me, you know. You don't think I do but I see you." Ginny stopped for a second remembering all the times she thought she had gotten away with stolen glances. How many times she had quickly looked away when he turned his head or moved.

"Why do you look at me?" she asked standing up straight and washing off the blade.

"For the same reason, I suppose." He took the hot towel from her and wiped of the remainder of cream form his face never once taking his eyes off her.

"Close enough?" she asked changing the subject immediately.

Draco got off the chair and walked over to the mirror closely admiring the most perfect yet free hair cut and shave he had ever had.

"You tell me," he said displaying himself with his arms.

Ginny bit her lip. Unexpectedly, Ginny walked up to him and held him putting her face to his. "Yeah, that's pretty close," she said softly into his ear and removed her head to look once again at his face. They were inches apart before he leaned in to kiss her. Immediately, Ginny did the same losing herself in his arms once more and returning every inch of feeling he gave to her. She pressed closer to him and he felt the necklace he had given her under her shirt. He lifted her to one of the surfaces and she wrapped her legs around him to hold herself up as he trailed kisses along her jaw down to her neck. A soft moan escaped her which only encouraged him further.

Then, it hit.

The room went dark and she looked around. She knew this room, there was nothing but bad memories in this room. It was a place she never wanted to revisit but that didn't mean she couldn't stop herself from being dragged back in moments of absolute pleasure. Subconsciously she flinched as a kick found her stomach and jerked to the side as a punch found her face. Draco let go of her as she pushed him back harshly, jumped off the counter and fled to the other side of the room. She felt her face but found nothing but a wet stream from her eyes down to the base of her jaw. When had she started crying? She looked around the room. It had returned to the light coloured room in Draco's home. Understanding finally hit her as she felt her stomach. The pain was still there.

That Bastard.

She knew what had happened, and she knew why she was on the other side of the room even if she didn't remember moving there. She looked at Draco who was watching her in concern.

He looked in her eyes and she tried to look away. she knew he would be able to read the pain in her eyes a mile off. He did, he looked at her surveying her state and slowly moved toward her but stopped the second she mimicked his actions and moved back. He put out his hand to tell her he wouldn't move anymore and she nodded closing her eyes.

He knew that look and he suspected he knew why she had it in her eyes. It was fear and anger. He had held that look many times in his life but he had managed to work through it. From the looks of her, all she had managed to do was suppress it until she couldn't see it anymore.

A burned child fears fire. He reminded himself and remembered the conversation he had tried to start which she had strategically changed. He would have smiled at her cleverness to avoid the subject if it weren't for the situation at hand. She was shaking; it took him back a few weeks to the incident with his father. He had never seen someone so frightened. Then it all clicked and all the pieces fit.

I am not going to put myself in a position where I know I'm going to get hurt. Not again.

She had been in a situation like it before and it explained why she never let anyone get close to her. He looked at her with more understanding in his face and in his voice.

"My god Ginny, what did he do to you?" he said softly.

She looked at him and saw that he knew what she was frightened of. With that she ran outside and he knew that there was no point in following her, she was gone.