Not Just an Empty Emotion

Chapter 25- So Much More to Give

Ginny sighed in exasperation as she searched through her bag for her hairbrush, which seemed determined to avoid her. She was tired and desperately wanted to get to bed and have an early night, but she had only just managed to finish her Transfiguration essay for the next day.

She found the brush at last and dragged it through her hair, wincing as it pulled on the tangles. She hoisted her bag on to her shoulder and glanced at her watch as the door of the library snapped closed behind her.

8.57

"Shit," she muttered. "Three minutes to get back inside the common room...no chance."

Breaking into a slight run she listened hard for the sounds of any teachers likely to tell her off for being out of Gryffindor Tower so late.

"Shit!" she exclaimed again, as her bag let her inkbottle slip through a tear in the corner and smash on the floor. She raised her wand to clear the mess up, but before she could even draw breath a silver light had shot at the pool of emerald ink and it disappeared.

"What-?"

A girl stepped out of a classroom to her right, nearly making Ginny drop her wand in shock:

It was her.

"You should sew that up, you know," said the girl with a small smile, "or more things will fall out."

"Um.... yeah...yes, of course. Thanks," Ginny stuttered, cringing at her childish shyness.

The girl laughed. "At least we're not swearing at each other this time, hey?"

Ginny flushed scarlet. "Yeah...yeah, I'm sorry about that."

"Don't worry. I'm used to it."

"What? Why?"

"People don't understand me. I'm in Slytherin," she explained. "People see me as being different because I'm not a Voldemort supporter" -Ginny flinched- "and my parents aren't Death Eaters. It's really the others who are different, I've done nothing wrong."

Ginny nodded. "Don't you have friends in other houses, though?"

"Oh, no. Of course not. The moment I say the word 'Slytherin' people can't wait to get away," she sounded mournful. "In fact, I'm surprised you're still here. Most people don't believe me when I say I don't have the Slytherin's 'unspoken qualities'."

"Of course I believe you. Things have happened to me and to people around me...I'm not narrow-minded."

The girl looked at her quizzically.

"Let's just say you're not the only one," Ginny said quietly.

The girl looked for a few moments as though she's like more details, but didn't ask. Eventually she said, "I'm Jodie Hunter, by the way. Sixth Year."

"Ginny Weasley," Ginny said smiling; she suddenly felt very confident, "Gryffindor Fifth Year."

Jodie nodded. "I know you. You're friends with Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Yes," Ginny replied. "What're you doing out so late anyway? It's gone 9."

"I spend as little time in the Common Room as I can," she said grimly. "And I could ask the same of you?"

"Transfiguration Essay," Ginny said simply.

"Ah. Rather you than-"

"Weasley! Hunter! What are you doing out of you Common Rooms this late at night?" Professor McGonagall's voice snapped down the corridor.

Ginny took a quick step back. "Nothing, Professor! I was just going back; I've been in the library."

"That is no excuse, Miss Weasley. And you, Miss Hunter, I'd have thought that the amount of punishments you have had would mean you would know better. Clearly not. Both of you will serve detention, 7pm tomorrow. My office. Understand?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You again?" Draco said lightly.

"Yeah," Foster replied. "I can't sleep. No point in going to bed."

"Right," Draco said. "Well, I could sleep for a week, so, 'night."

"Oh, no! Stay up for a bit longer. I could really do with someone to talk to."

"I really-"

"Please?"

Draco hesitated. "Oh alright, then. But not for long."

"Thanks," Foster smiled.

Draco took a seat and Foster just looked at him expectantly. Draco wasn't sure why but it made him nervous.

"Are you OK?" Foster asked suddenly.

"Yes. Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?" Draco asked defensively.

"No reason. Well...except that you're diff-"

"Oh fucking hell, don't start that again, Foster," Draco snapped, feeling annoyed. He made to stand up but Foster leant over quickly and put his hand on Draco's arm.

"Look, I'm sorry. Don't go."

Against his better judgement, and still with a frown on his face, Draco sank back down onto his chair.

"I've never really had friends you know, not really," Foster said. Draco didn't really know what to say to this sudden announcement, so he stayed silent as Foster went on. "I've always been a bit of an outcast. I was never the same as anyone else in this house I've never had their beliefs. It comes from being brought up by Muggles, I suppose. It made them see me as the enemy-as scum who deserved to die. The way most people in this house see Muggles and Muggle-borns." His eyes were shining as he reminisced.

"I thought you were Pure-blood?" Draco said, becoming interested in the tale, despite himself.

"Oh, I am. But my mum died after she gave birth to me. Got an infection and refused to let anyone treat her. They told me that my dad had always had a bit of a problem with drink, but after my mum died it got worse. He eventually drank himself to death. I was nine months old and I didn't have a family, my Grandparents were dead and it's sort of a family tradition to be an only child.... I had no one. I was an orphan. So I was sent to a Muggle Orphanage. It was hell. I hated it. But now I reckon that was only because I resented the fact that it had to be me whose parents had died.

"Anyway, when I came here I was hated by everyone. They saw me as a Mudblood. So I didn't have any friends. I concentrated on work instead- I got 11 top grade OWLs, you know. Then, on my 17^th Birthday, the Orphanage sent me some letters my mum had written for me on her deathbed. She knew Dad's problem would get worse, so she made him write to me, too. She said I was to get then when I came of age. I got them and the changed my life. I found out who my parents were, who I really am- and I realised how wrong I've been all this time. I've had such warped views in the past, but now my mum and dad have shown me the right way."

Draco nodded. Foster said, "You're the only one I've ever been able to tell. I trust you."

"Why?"

"Because.... I know we feel the same. We think the same. We are the same."

"No," Draco shook his head. "We're not. We're very different, believe me. But-I can see why you think the way you do. Why you have changed."

Foster looked at him. "How? How can you see?" he asked.

"The question," Draco said, "is not how, but why."

"Go on," Foster prompted breathlessly.

Draco hesitated. But why shouldn't he? He wouldn't be revealing anything too major, and, after all, Foster had just told him some of his most intimate secrets...Draco gulped and said, "It's because I'm...in love."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ginny, calm down, I can't understand you."

"I saw her, Harry! I spoke to her!"

"Who?"

"Jodie Hunter!" Ginny said urgently. "It was so surreal...and she's gorgeous...and really nice and...oh my God, I don't believe it!"

Harry grinned. "So it was her then..." he muttered. "What did she say?"

"Nothing exciting. But we've got a detention together tomorrow."

"That's great!" Harry said.

"It is?" Ginny asked bewildered.

Harry sighed in mock irritation and raised his eyebrows at her. Then-

"It is!" she exclaimed loudly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In love.

Draco Malfoy. In love.

Foster felt as though he'd been knocked over by a train. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Not only was a Malfoy admitting he was in love, but this was Draco...Draco wasn't allowed to be in love...was this the answer he had been working for for so many weeks? Had this been what he had expected? Was it what Kierre had expected?

No.

At Draco's words Foster felt everything that had kept him sane fall to the ground. His obsession, his passion, his life, was being wrenched away from him.

Unless...yes. It was what he'd wanted to do all along...not in this way though...but if it meant that he got what he wanted...what he needed.

"Who is it?" he asked, failing to disguise his agonising fury. The words came out harshly but Draco did not notice.

"I can't say," he said.

"Why not?" Foster demanded.

"It just can't. It's difficult. Probably dangerous."

"Bullshit!" Foster yelled.

"What?" Draco asked, bewildered. "Foster, I don't-"

"Don't give me that crap! 'Dangerous'? How the hell can it be dangerous?"
Draco was starting to feel angry himself now. Why was Foster behaving like this? It wasn't as though he had just admitted to a terrible crime...

"You've been giving me this shit for weeks, Malfoy, and I'm tired of it! You told me you hadn't changed- what crap! I knew you had, but I didn't expect it to be anything like this!"

Through his haze of confusion Draco was suddenly feeling very glad that Foster's emotion-whatever it was- was refusing to let him see that love might not be the only reason Draco had changed. He was also very glad he had not opened up further to the boy. "What the fuck? Why are you reacting like this? What the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong with me?" Foster raged, hysterically. "There's nothing wrong with me!"

"I think there is. You're behaving like a spoilt child! Like you're...like you're.... jealous!" Draco finished.

That last word seemed to bring Foster to his senses.

"Jealous..." he muttered, more to himself than to Draco. "Why would I be jealous? I'm not jealous..." but that wasn't the truth and Foster knew it. He had lusted after Draco ever since the younger boy's first day at Hogwarts. Foster had been young and stupid then, but meeting Draco, learning what he stood for, and his own hatred of his Muggle carers made him yearn to be like Draco...he hadn't realised it at first, but as the years went on he couldn't fail to notice that Draco was in his thoughts constantly...that every night as Foster sat alone he found himself staring at Malfoy...

He hadn't been honest with Kierre; because Foster had changed...but not in the way he had led Draco to believe...this last year he had finally understood what his obsession with Draco meant. It seemed absurd- he couldn't possibly- but he did. And now here was his chance...his last and only chance...he would have what he so badly wanted whether Draco liked it or not...Malfoy couldn't get out of this one...

He would get the answers they had been searching for for weeks, but not for Kierre, he didn't matter any more. No. He wanted the answers for himself. He wanted to find the bitch Draco said he loved and kill her...hand her to Voldemort...anything as long as there was no one but Foster in Malfoy's life. Kierre need never know how or why Foster had got the answers, just that he'd got them. Kierre wasn't Foster's concern any more; he didn't care what he did to Malfoy.

Foster stood facing Draco, looking defensive, his chest heaving, thinking hard. Would it work? Could he possibly pull this off?

Yes.

"Foster?" Draco asked quietly.

Foster looked up into Draco's face with an oddly calm expression. He was so damn hot...and he would be all Foster's... "Are you going to tell me who it is?" Foster asked calmly.

"I've already told you-"

"Are you going to tell me, or not?" Foster yelled.

"No!" Draco said loudly. "No way!"

"Your choice then, Malfoy. You've brought this on yourself.... it's all your fault..."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Draco asked, a slight twist of concern in his stomach.

Foster began to walk towards him purposefully. Neither of them said a thing. He stopped less than a foot away from Draco.

"Last chance," he whispered maliciously.

"No," Draco said.

With a sudden movement Foster grabbed hold of Draco's arms and pushed him back onto the bare stone wall, slamming him against it. Draco was totally taken aback; he had absolutely no idea what was going on or why Foster was doing it. He tried to twist his wrists out of Foster's grip but he couldn't; Foster was holding on too tightly. He grasped onto Draco's hand and moved it up the wall firmly so it was slightly raised. Draco winced as he felt the skin on the back of his hand scraping off, but did not abandon his attempt to make Foster release him. Foster's body was far too close to him to allow Draco to get away, or to hit him, and his wand was in his dormitory downstairs. He was trapped. Foster's body was far too close.

"Back off," Draco said dangerously, through gritted teeth.

"No," muttered Foster, "because I want answers, and I'm going to get them. Understand?"

"And how the hell do you propose to do that? Going to put me under Imperius?"

"No. No, something much more effective..."
Draco tried not to feel afraid, but his confusion and anger were hindering his attempts to get free. What was Foster going to do? "Why me?" he asked.

"Why you? You've answered your own question, there. It's because it's you that I'm interested. It's not because you're Malfoy- it's because you're Draco Malfoy."

Draco frowned and yelled angrily, "You're fucking mental!"

"Not quite. Now, Draco, you're going to give me answers, OK? I want to know...who is it? Who's the bitch you 'love'? Tell me!"

"Make me," hissed Draco dangerously.

But that was exactly the cue Foster had been waiting for. He took a deep breath, and then began to drink in every inch of Draco's features, savouring the moment, as Draco Malfoy became his at last. He closed his eyes and then-this came as a shock to Draco- so gently, as though Draco were a priceless artefact, he kissed Draco's lips, tasting them with his own.

In the second their lips were together Foster felt utterly content and unbelievably turned on. It was better than he could've imagined. Draco realised what exactly was happening with a sickening jolt and ripped his head away to the side, breaking the kiss, thoroughly repulsed.

"What-the-fuck-are-you-doing?" he screeched irately, feeling ill.

"What does it feel like?" Foster crowed. "Would you like me to do it again?"

"No, I wouldn't you bastard! Leave me alone!" growled Draco.

"Only when you tell me."

"Never."

This time Foster didn't feign tenderness, nor did he kiss Draco in such a way that allowed his to escape. He smashed his lips against Malfoy's, kissing him passionately, forcing his tongue into Malfoy's mouth, forcing their bodies to move closer together, and forcing the kiss to become more and more frantic.

Somehow it was made so much better by the fact that Draco was not enjoying it, that he didn't want this...that there was nothing he could do about it.... Foster relished the fact that Draco was not enjoying it...and that in time he would make him enjoy it...Foster loved the fact that no matter how much Draco writhed it was impossible for him to escape his grip.

He stopped, at last, savouring the touch and taste of Draco's mouth. He was slightly breathless, and his swollen lips were tingling pleasantly; the last wonderful remnants of what he had done. For a moment he enjoyed the sight of an extremely pale Draco trying to remove himself from his own body...to make it so that it was someone else's lips that had been touched by Fosters.

"Are you ready to tell yet?" whispered Foster, tightening his grip on Draco's wrists still further.

"No, and I never will be!" Draco tried to keep his voice steady, which was made difficult by the fact that he was forcing vomit back down.

Foster grinned to himself. It didn't matter that Malfoy wouldn't tell this time. He would crack eventually, and all the while Foster would be getting what he had desired for so long.

And the best part of it was that Draco couldn't, or wouldn't, tell. Who would he go to? His friends? Not likely. A teacher? Foster could just imagine the conversation between Malfoy and Snape and had to stifle laughter. His parents? Draco wouldn't risk letting them know that another boy had got the better of him, that he had weaknesses. His lover? Draco didn't have the guts- he'd be far too scared.

And then, of course, Foster's most important weapon-Malfoy's pride. There was no way in hell he'd let anyone else know about this. Malfoy would deal with it himself, or die trying, before he went to anyone else, Foster knew that. He had total control of Draco...

The worst thing was that Foster was right. And both Foster and Draco knew it. Draco would never tell.

*

Draco lay shivering and curled up into a tight, protective ball in his bed. He felt as though he was going to throw up at any moment. Tears streamed silent rivers down his still pale face, but he didn't wipe them away. He didn't move at all.

Foster's last words were ringing, almost painfully, in Draco's ears like a funeral Knell-

"I'll come back Malfoy, don't you worry about that. You'll tell eventually. I'll get what I want- what I need. Because this does not end here. This is going to go on...and on...and there's nothing you can do, Malfoy, because this...it is just the beginning- it is going to get so much worse, I can promise you. I've got so much more to give you."