Shades of Grey

Shades of Grey

Chapter Five: Reflections

No date.

I stare into the mirror to gaze upon my own reflection. It is not to cater to my vanity but to placate my mind. I worry that one day the ugliness inside me will be reflected for others to see. So I look upon myself in hope that that day will never come.

Draco laid the book upon his chest and tilted his head back on the pillow, letting his body relax and his eyes slide shut. As he began to drift off into sleep, he could not help but ponder upon the passage he had just read. He empathised with his secret diarist's inner struggles. He had so much in common with this person that he felt as though this journal had been written for him or about him. He, too, felt the ugliness within himself, a reason why he worked so hard on his exterior. He believed that if he looked good on the outside, it would reflect a positive interior - a type of white-washing for his soul.

Draco wasn't an evil man, but he wasn't exactly a good man either. He would never be considered righteous or honourable. The list of noble virtues he possessed was limited at best. Draco Malfoy would never be a hero.

He turned over on his side and sighed. He never wanted to be a hero; he just wanted to be noticed; he just wanted to be recognised for his power and skills. He thought he'd get his chance at Hogwarts. Unfortunately, The Boy Who Lived happened to be in the same year as he, along with that Mudblood Granger. Any chance of earning accolades for academics, magics, or Quidditch went straight out the door with their arrival. Jealousy, envy, disgust - take your pick - he felt all three emotions when it came to Harry Potter.

There was a reason why he and Potter never became friends. Yes, he had tried, pathetically, to garner the friendship and adulation of the bespectacled toss pot, but only because it would have served a political and social advantage to him. The real reason, however, that they could never come to understand one another was because Potter had never been surrounded by evil, seduced by its power, and forced to embrace it. He was truly naïve. Draco often wished for such ignorance. He did not want to be Harry Potter. He was no fool. He knew that to be that particular Gryffindor was to accept responsibility your whole life, to constantly face danger, death, heartache, and disappointment. No thanks. He had enough of death.

And then there was the little Weasley girl. How did she get to become such a bigot and a hypocrite? What a waste. She would have made for an excellent Slytherin had she learned to curb her tongue and temper. Subtly was a much better approach. There was a reason why Slytherins were considered cunning.

Perhaps she had always been this way. He had no way of knowing. He had never paid much attention to her at school, except to make fun of her family or her infatuation with Potter. He recalled that she had grown up quite pretty. His best mate, Blaise Zabini, had often commented on how he would consider the redhead if she wasn't a blood traitor. That was saying quite a lot since the golden-eyed boy was even pickier than he.

Although he had only seen the She-Weasel intermittently for the past month and a half, he had to admit that his heart beat a little faster whenever she walked into the room. Perhaps it was because he was so unaccustomed to the company, or maybe it was due to the sexual magnetism that seemed to pour off her in waves. He was beginning to question whether or not he had a thing for feisty, attractive girls. This girl, however, was not his taste: she was a self-righteous Weasley - and the breakdown of problems with Weasleys, in general, would generate a list several pages long.

He shook his head and tried not to think about the girl. Once he was finally able to close his eyes and fall asleep, he could not help the small smirk that formed on his lips nor prevent the image of a pale, freckled redhead enter his mind as he began to slip into the realm of dreams.

~*~

Ginevra yawned and stretched on the lounge in the parlour. She had begun sleeping downstairs next to Malfoy's cell as it was much cooler on the first floor than it was on the second. She had entertained the thought of setting up a cot in the cold cellar, but there was a fireplace in the sitting room, and she wanted to be near one in case Harry Flooed her.

He hadn't, of course. It had been several weeks since he had even owled her. He had fire-talked with her on the weekend, as promised, but it was for a total of ten minutes. He had to go with Hermione to Azkaban to check on the new wards that they had begun to put in place there. Ginny was beginning to feel as though Hermione was more of girlfriend to Harry than she was.

Ginevra was now past the stage of being annoyed at her boyfriend for ignoring her while she was here, alone, with a criminal. She was at the seething with anger stage, coupled with a large dose of bitterness and a dash of depression. In order to take her mind off her personal problems, she had begun to linger around Malfoy's cell, listening for when he raised the bed up to work out or when he would turn on the sink faucet to give himself a 'bath'. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop or seem as though she was stalking him. She was his guard, after all; she was supposed to watch him. Mainly she did it because she was so bloody bored. Cabin Fever had come and gone; now she just needed someone to talk to.

Feeling restless, Ginevra got up and switched on the lights. It was odd, to her, to use electricity, although she had quickly accustomed to it. Because of all the wards placed on the Hollow, the house had to be fitted with electricity. An owl from her father indicated that he, apparently, had helped supervise the event. They brought in Muggle electricians, who must have wondered how such a house had existed for so long without electricity. Her father and a few others had observed the mechanics of the operation and even test-piloted a few appliances. It was quite the spectacle for witch and wizard alike to behold. She imagined her father had been in that Muggle expression of 'Seventh Heaven'.

Just then, while musing, she looked down at the floor and noticed a stream of light coming out from underneath Malfoy's door. She frowned.

He must be reading, again, or working out, Ginevra thought to herself.

She quietly crept up to the door and put her ear against it. She heard a soft snoring sound and the gentle buzz of the sixty-watt light. He must have fallen asleep with the lamp on.

Ginevra grimaced and whispered the spell to unlock the door. She was raised frugal. She could not have Malfoy drain all this electricity and run up a large bill (her father wrote to her that Muggles actually pay for electricity). She quietly opened the door and tip-toed inside.

Malfoy was asleep on his side with a book cradled close to his chest. One arm hugged the book while the other was slung back behind his head. Ginevra couldn't help but grin as she watched the blond-haired Slytherin snore silently, his mouth wide open. She reckoned that he could catch a number of flies and spiders sleeping that way.

She quietly walked over to his bedside cabinet to turn off his lamp when she noticed the journal that he was holding close to his chest. She tentatively reached a hand out to touch it when Malfoy's steel-grey eyes suddenly popped open, and his hand shot out to grab her wrist.

Time seemed to slow down like a heartbeat, seconds ticking away in her breast like a reckoning. She felt his fingers encircle her wrist as he pulled her down towards him, his nose almost touching hers. She went cross-eyed from trying to focus in on his mercury-coloured irises that were narrowed on her amber-coloured ones. She swallowed hard and suppressed the urge to squeak out loud as his soft, pale blond eyelashes fluttered against her forehead, causing a tingling sensation to ripple throughout her entire body.

The brief contact unnerved her, and she foolishly dropped her wand and tried to draw back from him. She was sure that he was going to kill her, but then he absently let go of her hand and sat up, blinking back the tiredness in his eyes. The book tumbled off his chest, and he caught it before she could. He then quickly brought it underneath the covers of his blanket.

"You surprised me," he said hoarsely, recovering his voice as he raked his fingers through his long, fine white-blond hair.

"And you me," she replied, squaring her jaw as she bent down to pick up her wand to pocket it, eyeing him cautiously. Why did he not overpower her and take her wand, and why did he let go of her wrist so suddenly? "I just came to turn off your light."

His soft brow creased, and he gave her look that indicated, to Ginevra, that she had just said the stupidest thing in the world to him.

She cleared her throat and looked down and to the left. His gazes made her uncomfortable. She had to remember that she was in charge of him, not the other way around.

"So what are you reading?" she finally asked softly, unable to hide her interest and loneliness.

Draco blinked twice and turned his head away from her, ignoring her question as he looked over at the mirror directly behind her. He didn't feel like talking. He just wanted to go back to sleep. Why was she even here?

Ginevra glared down at him. "You're still being reticent then?" she asked, annoyed at his refusal to speak.

She then directed her attention to the mirror, following his gaze, seeing her own reflection aside his. He wasn't even looking at her. He was just staring at himself in the mirror like some narcissistic ponce.

"Merlin, I have never seen a man so in love with himself!" She could not stand the fact that he was ignoring her even though she was standing directly in front of him. "Take a good long look, Malfoy," she spat, pointing at the mirror, "because that's all you've got left: your looks!"

He furrowed his brow and ground his teeth, trying desperately not to pay attention to the spiteful redhead in front of him. He tried to think back to the passage in the diary about reflections, anything to distract himself from the hateful vile pouring from the little Weasley's mouth. Why couldn't this Gryffindor just leave him in peace? Why did she have to be so bloody dogmatic and persistent?

"You have nothing now, Malfoy!" she added coldly, the fire rising inside her.

All she had wanted to do was have a conversation with him. Instead, he chose to be a vain prick and ignore her, gazing at his own reflection in the mirror.

"No father, no friends, no power," she listed, never ceasing her harping. "They have all abandoned you, Draco!" She examined him with borderline glee, narrowing her eyes on him.

He dug his nails into his palm, wincing at her use of his first name. How dare she talk to him like this? What did she know? Nothing!

"You are a sorry excuse for a human being, Malfoy, and you deserve whatever sentence you get and more. You are beyond redemption!" she spat vehemently. "You're not even worth saving."

She stomped towards the door as he sat on his bed in front of the mirror, his arms rigid at his sides, his fists clenched in fury. Once she got to the door, she turned around to look, to stare him down. Her eyes were full of venom and fire. She couldn't let it go, and he knew it. She was a dog with a bone - relentless and persistent. She had to let her vituperations ring soundly in his ears one last time.

"At least you have your looks!"

~*~

Author notes: Foot, I'd like to introduce you to Mouth. Please insert now. Normally, it is always Draco screwing up everything. Well, I thought I'd let Ginny take the reigns this time.

Technical note: I have no idea how long it would take to have a house fitted and wired for electricity, and I also have no clue if hydro runs anywhere in or near Godric's Hollow. But in the case of this time-constricted fic, I decided to take creative license (again) and make it a relatively short process with the town already supplied with/set up for hydro. What can I say? I'm a fanfic witch - I can do that kinda stuff! Abracadabra! ... Shirtless Draco!