Rating:: PG
House:: The Dark Arts
Characters:: Draco Malfoy Ginny Weasley
Genres:: Angst Drama
Era:: Multiple Eras
Spoilers:: Chamber of Secrets
Stats:: Published: 07/04/2003

Updated: 08/06/2003

Words: 7,838

Chapters: 3

Hits: 1,073

Noticed

Serpent Princess

Story Summary:: You wrote because you had to. You didn't notice him. Not for a good three years. But you're glad you did. And you'll wait for him to notice you. He watched you as you wrote. He noticed you before any other guy did, and wanted more than anything for you to notice him. He gave up that idea four years ago. To every girl that's ever wanted to be kissed by Draco Malfoy with your last breath. And die by the hands of him. A Draco/Ginny romantic tragedy.

Chapter 01

Chapter Summary:: You wrote because you had to. You didn't notice him. Not for a good three years. But you're glad you did. And you'll wait for him to notice you.

Posted:: 07/04/2003

Hits:: 570

Author's Note:: Just a weird fic that popped into my head. Will be part of a 4/5 chaptered story.

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If I only had an ocean to compliment this sky

I'd pull it down, I'd paint it for you and never question why

Cause red would mean you love me

And blue would mean you care

But black, my heart when left alone, to cold and killing stairs.

This is the burning of a dream.

This is the burning of a dream.

The sound now turns to silence

But I keep spinning around

Naked in the rain of my own tears

As they fall into the bucket of your apologies

While closing everyone else's eyes

Because your own are shut

Not to see the volume rise again

~ The Sound by Further Seems Forever

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Noticed

Part I: Oblivious

You wrote because you had to write. The need to write was always inside of you. Words, letters, and phrases always pushing to be released. They tormented you, banged on the insides of your head, distracted you in everything you did, until you would grab a quill and let it all loose.

You stole to the library after your last class, Transfiguration, walking hurriedly through hallways and corridors. You sat your worn books on an empty table towards the back and began to repair their broken spines with Spellotape. You would do your reading later, you decided.

You opened the diary and wrote about the funny story a Hufflepuff girl told you in Herbology. The ink fades away, being absorbed by the thick parchment paper. You do not notice; this is normal. This is ordinary.

You wrote about the 'A' you received in Defense Against the Dark Arts from handsome Professor Lockhart, and thank Tom for all his help. He helped you study. He writes back, You're Welcome in fancy script, the ends of his letters flourished elegantly. You look at his writing and feel jealous. You have ugly chicken scratches.

You wrote about the run-in with Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He even spoke to you today, can you believe it?! You are overwhelmed with excitement and your cheeks became flushed at the mere memory.

He asked you about Harry Potter - the man that held his sweet Ginny's affection. You rolled your eyes but remembered that he knew nothing of Harry. He was not of your time. 'Who is he?' he asked, and you could visualize someone that suspiciously looked like your older brother Bill, making sure that you had an infatuation on a 'good' guy. 'He just wanted to approve of Harry', you told yourself.

You giggled to yourself as you think about Harry Potter. To you, he was a god, a divine being. He was so good in your eyes, so noble and valiant. You began to scratch down the words, adjectives that could possibly describe Harry to him. You wrote about his raven-colored hair and how it was always mussed and fell into his face. You wrote about his brilliant green eyes and how he wears glasses. You pointed out to him that Harry wearing glasses was a good thing - a role model to kids that you don't have to be perfect to be a hero. He agreed and asked you to continue. You grinned.

You wrote about the defiant lightening bolt slash on his forehead. It is beautiful to you, captivating and mystical. It is beautiful the way he does not try to show it off or flaunt it. If anything, he hides in, not as if he was ashamed, but not to distract, or draw attention to himself. To him, you know, that it was not his doing that ended Voldemort's reign. He thinks he just got lucky. Severely lucky. It is thin and long and a shade darker than his skin color.

Your words faded away and a message came back.

How did he get this scar?

You almost rolled your eyes again, but stopped, remembering. You dipped the quill tip in your in inkwell and began to write again.

He faced death - and lived.

The letters are small and choppy. They are hideously ugly to you, almost unreadable. You dipped your quill in your ink, not noticing the small drops that landed on your darned black robe. You poised to quill tip over the paper, preparing to write again. Your message shines still, a little duller, as the ink disappears into the paper. You move the quill away. The message speaks for itself.

Oh really?

Yes. He ended up saved the wizarding world, and the muggle world. Harry is amazing!

When did this happen?

I don't know exactly - when he was a little baby. It was amazing, Tom, it really was. To hear the story over and over again, it never looses it's appeal, I think. It's already gone down as world-changing history, and it really was, to have a little baby overcome the Dark Lord. No one knows how he did it, not even Harry! That's why it's so fantastic.

How did he save the wizarding world then?

You-Know-Who used the killing curse on him, but he didn't die. For some reason, it bounced off of him and hit You-Know-Who instead. It was bloody brilliant, though I wasn't there to see it. No one that's alive was there to see it, except Harry.

What? Avada Kedavra?

Yes. Please don't write that. Call it the Killing Curse.

I won't anymore. Who is You-know-who, Ginny?

You bit your lip, debating in your head what you would say. Finally, you decided on what your father told you.

We do not like to say his name. It is Voldemort. We call him You-Know-Who or He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but I don't quite understand why. Mum says its because I wasn't around to witness what he did, but I still don't know why we wouldn't want to say his name. It's like we're scared of him and his name (Where did he think of a name like that anyway? It's rather strange), and courage is the absence of fear... or something like that. I can never remember.

What did this man do?

He went on a killing spree. Gathered followers and promised them that they'd rule beside him when he was kind. Murdered lots of muggles because he thought that wizards like he was were better than them - which personally I don't agree with. The years he reigned were dark times, everyone was scared and hundreds died daily. He didn't like muggle-born wizards or muggle sympathizers either. My parents lived in fear that he would come after them. It was horrible - Mum and Dad don't talk about it a lot.

Why did he do that? Those horrible things to all those muggles and muggle-born.

He doesn't like them, I guess. I don't know why, and it's not like he tells anyone. That would be very foolish of him, and I've always thought Voldemort was really smart. But no one talks about those years, they want to forget them and pretended they never happened.

Why did he use the Avada - why did he try to kill Harry?

I don't know either, no one does. Voldemort disappeared after Harry lived. The Ministry isn't sure where he went. Personally, I think he's dead, because no one has faced the Killing Curse and lived, except Harry, so I don't think that two people could do it. He really doesn't like him though.

Harry must be very strong.

Well, he's only twelve, so he's not nearly as strong as Charlie is. But he's such a wonderful person, and he's unstoppable on a broomstick! A natural, just shot off after Malfoy. Got him real scared, too, and almost got expelled! But McGonagall recruited him for the team, and the rest is history. He's the Quidditch Seeker for Gryffindor, the house I'm in, did you know? He plays with my twin brothers, Fred and George, but they're both beaters. Being a beater's easy, I think, you just have to whack a ball around. Being a seeker's harder, since you have to see the Snitch, which is really hard since the Pitch is so bloody big. And he's the youngest seeker in a hundred years! Did you ever play Quidditch, Tom?

No, I was never really good at Quidditch and flying. He sounds like a good guy.

He is. He is my brother's best friend. This summer, he came over for a couple of weeks before term and it was a lot of fun having him around! He insisted that he help de-gnome the garden, which I thought was very kind of him. I didn't see him much, he hung around with Ron and Hermoine more, but it was great having him around, at least.

Wow. You must consider yourself lucky to know someone so famous.

And he works hard in school so he can play Quidditch, and he's good at that too! And he's really cute, he's got black hair like you, and really green eyes, though he wears thick glasses. He's very nice about being famous too. That's why I like him.