Shades of Grey

Shades of Grey

Chapter Eleven: An Organic Connection

"If all else perished, and he remained, I should still continue to be, and if all else remained, and he were annihilated, the universe would turn to a mighty stranger ... I am Heathcliff. He's always, always in my mind: not as a pleasure, any more than I am always a pleasure to myself, but as my own being ..." - Catherine in Wuthering Heights.

Ginevra now came to see Draco daily. She had an inkling that he did not mind these visits; in fact, he seemed to look forward to them, and so did she. Since the several talks that they'd had a few weeks ago, an unspoken bond had formed between the two: one of mutual understanding and respect. She may not have fully forgiven him for his past transgressions (or at least have forgot), and he may not have overlooked her status and the power that she had over him, but they both agreed to live in the present and not in the past. They had, essentially, begun anew.

After the bath incident (also known as The Missing Bubbles Fiasco), Ginevra had decided to give Draco towels in advance and sit and wait outside the bathroom in the hallway. She had allowed him a nice long soak every morning and, occasionally, once or twice in the evening when she found him to be extremely petulant, skulking about his room after supper. These were usually days when she had received owls and visitors, and he had not.

Ginevra had to admit that the grey-eyed blond seemed rather appreciative of the gestures, although he never managed to verbally thank her. She knew he was grateful, however, by the way he would often stare at her when he thought she wasn't looking. She noticed; she noted every movement he made.

Not too long after The Missing Bubbles Fiasco, she had owled her brother George to ask him to acquire some gym equipment for her, something to help distract Malfoy. George had readily agreed, coming through with his promise. He had Portkeyed onto the grounds the moment he could and greeted his baby sister with an affectionate hug and kiss on the cheek.

Ginevra invited him in for a spot of tea, and they talked for hours about Bill and Fleur expecting, Ron and Hermione's awkward dating, and Mum's general craziness in Ginevra's absence. It had been a long time since she had seen her brother, and she was glad to spend time with him. George always had a way of making her laugh and never prying into personal matters. Both he and Fred were true friends as well as brothers. She missed the duo's presence greatly.

George did, however, question her about Malfoy, whether he was being a right git with her or not. She shook her head and told him that the ex-Slytherin was a model inmate, and she did not have one complaint against him. George had laughed at her reply, saying that he should expect to see pigs flying any time soon as he found it impossible for a Malfoy to be a model anything, expect maybe a model toss pot. When he finally got ready to leave, he leaned down to give her an extra tight hug and told her that he give Harry a talking to. He didn't think that his baby sister should be guarding Malfoy any longer. She had already been there for three months, and it was time for her to come home and be with her family.

Ginevra smiled and hugged him back, telling him not to bother for she was fine. She thanked him for coming and bringing her the gym supplies and the letters and treats from Mum and Dad. She escorted him to the door and watched him take to the grounds to Portkey away.

She closed the door and then stretched and sighed, turning back to make her way towards Malfoy's cell door. She knocked loudly.

"Enter," he replied briskly within, and she unlocked the door with her wand.

"Hey," she said breathlessly and smiled, resting a slender hand on the doorknob.

"Hey," he greeted back, nodding his head slightly as he sat on his bed, writing in her old journal. "Did you have a pleasant visit with the giant?" He cocked an eyebrow in the air as he absently set down the book and quill.

"George?" she asked, laughing. "Yeah, it was really good to see him."

"It's always nice to see family," he commented, rubbing his palms on his trousers, and she frowned.

"Yeah, about that," she said as she stepped into the room and leaned against the door frame. "I owled Harry about getting an uncensored letter from your mum, but he said that the Ministry couldn't allow it."

He raised his eyebrows and dismissively waved his hand in front of his face. "I expected as much ... or as less," he retorted. "Thanks for trying though, Weasley."

Ginevra nodded her head and crossed her arms over her chest. "I brought you some gym equipment," she added hopefully, as though trying to offer him something. She shook her head and then uncrossed her arms and waved her hand. "I can bring it in later though. How about you and I go for a walk?"

"Sure!" he replied rather quickly and jumped up from the bed.

Ginevra escorted Draco outside, zipping up her jumper to protect her from the sharp, howling wind. She pocketed her wand and smiled, noting the boyish grin that spread across his handsome, pale face as he took in a deep breath of fresh air and sighed contently. He then slowly began to perambulate around the yard, kicking at a few scattered maple leaves that littered the ground. Fall had come early, and it was only a matter of weeks before the entire yard would become blanketed with the multicoloured leaves.

"I could really go for a match of Quidditch right now," Draco said almost wistfully as he sat down beside Ginevra on the wooden picnic bench.

"Yeah, I could go for a few rounds of chasing the old Snitch," she added airily and then frowned. "We're not allowed to have brooms here, though." She shrugged sheepishly. "The Ministry seems to have this hair-brained idea that you'd take off if given one."

"Yeah?" He smirked. "They don't allow prisoners to ride magical brooms, you say?" His voice was dripping with sarcasm. "I thought I was on the honour system," he remarked facetiously as he cocked his head to the side to look at her disapprovingly.

"They decided to take you off that due to The Missing Bubbles Fiasco," she explained with a remarkably straight face.

"Oh, right," he replied, shaking his head. "Well, that was well-worth being kicked off then."

Ginevra finally broke down and let out a small laugh. "Cheeky git!" She licked at her lips and held back the urge to punch him in the shoulder. "There's a football in the shed though. You want to have a kick?" she asked, her eyes sparkling with humour and mirth.

"Sounds good, but do you think you can keep up, Red?" There was a hint of seriousness in his tone that was coupled with playfulness and cheek.

"I grew up with six older Weasley brothers, Blondie. I think I can handle one Malfoy."

Draco jumped up and stood in front of her, his eyebrow raised suggestively as the patented Malfoy smirk spread across his handsome features.

"Many women have tried and failed miserably, Weasley." He winked.

Ginevra rolled her eyes and jumped up, pushing past him as she ran over to the shed. She would fetch that football and thoroughly humiliate one blond-haired, grey-eyed Draco Malfoy.

~*~

Draco sat on the bed in his cell and opened the cover to Ginevra's journal, slipping a small note inside. He then closed the book and put it down next to his pillow. He glanced out the window and frowned. He had wanted to find some way to wish the Weasley girl a happy birthday. It had been a month now, and he had not managed to think of a way to celebrate it. He had considered abandoning the notion altogether. With no wand and no money, there was little he could do. He wasn't exactly gifted, Muggle-talent-wise. He could dance and play the piano, but there was no music in the house and no instruments. He couldn't draw or write - or at least not write anything the Weasley girl would want to read

Suddenly, as if on cue, the redhead knocked on the door, disturbing Draco from his musings. He grabbed a book, attempting to look busy, and admitted her entrance. She unlocked the cell door with her wand and stepped inside, dragging a large sack behind her.

"Hey, I brought you some more books," she announced cheerily as she dropped the sack to the floor. "Don't worry, they're not romance novels or textbooks." She gave him a reassuring look. "George and Percy just dropped these off this morning."

He looked up from his book and squinted his eyes, trying to focus. He figured that he would need glasses soon at the rate he was reading, and now she was bringing him even more literature to peruse. Over the past few weeks, he had even begun having literary discussions with the redhead, talking about books whenever she came to bring him something to eat or take him upstairs for his bath. Draco had no idea how well-versed the girl was. Of course, he had never read many Muggle books in his youth. He used to sneak a few when he was younger, unbeknownst to his mother and father. He grew out of that rebellious phase, however, at Hogwarts. Had he been caught reading Muggle books - well that would have made him quite the hypocrite and figure of mockery in his house.

"Still reading that book, are you?" she asked with a smirk on her face as she briefly glanced over at her copy of Wuthering Heights that he clutched in his hand.

He had refused to read the other 'romance' novels that she had given him, especially Pride and Prejudice. Besides, her journal and the copy of Wuthering Heights were the only two books he didn't thoroughly destroy in the tantrum he threw a month ago. While some of the other books were readable, most were just kindling for fire.

"Heathcliff intrigues me," he answered, nodding his head. "He has many faces, each with many facets to them." He then closed to book and looked up at her.

"I still don't see why you like him so much," she remarked, rolling her eyes as she began to stock the bookcase. "He was a horrible, evil, and unforgiving brute. He was more obsessed with getting revenge than he was in his love for Catherine."

"Says who?" Draco replied, putting the book down on the bedside cabinet and sitting up on the bed.

"Nelly, the main narrator for one!" she retorted.

He snorted. "So you believe that a servant gave justice to his tale?" he asked incredulously and shook his head. "Hardly. That old nag had him demonised."

"So because she is a servant, she is unreliable?" she asked, her mouth ajar.

"Obviously," he answered without hesitation. "I mean, c'mon now, Weasley. Would you write favourably about your own boss, who was stations above you, yet he was born a gypsy bastard?"

She winced at his bluntness. Is this how she sounded when she preached?

Ginevra had once heard the expression that 'a reformed rake made the best husband'. It was a cliché in romance novels, but something that she found somewhat interesting. She had to admit that she preferred the rogue to not be fully reformed but only in touch with his feelings for the woman he loved. She did not like the thought of completely changing a person. She supposed that this is why she liked Wuthering Heights so much - Heathcliff never reformed. And from what she had discovered of Draco, as-of-late, was that he was a lot like Heathcliff: a man of stormy emotions who shunned humanity because he himself has been ostracised. He was a man who deified being understood, someone other than what he seemed.

She grinned to herself and blushed, shaking her head. Maybe she was reading too many romance novels.

"What?" he asked, observing the colour in her cheeks.

"Nothing," she replied quickly, dismissing his question. "What of Catherine and Heathcliff's love then, was that demonised too? Was it imagined by Nelly?" She tried to look serious and direct the topic away from her rising blush.

"No," he answered absently, bringing a finger to his bottom lip. "I believe their love was real when they were young; however, it was never meant to be. They came from two different worlds, two different prejudices."

"True, but there was potential," she added, nodding her head in agreement.

Draco shook his head. "No, Catherine was far too selfish and superficial."

"And Heathcliff was unforgiving," she added.

They both shrugged their shoulders in unison.

"They refused to change who they were or accept differences in each other and those around them," he remarked quietly, sighing as he ran his fingers through his hair. "They were both living off the memories of their childhood. They had nothing to keep their love burning ..." He paused and shook his head. "And yet it did - on memory alone."

Ginevra put down the book and went over to the bed and sat down at the end. "Perhaps with soul mates, love never dies out," she offered thoughtfully, and he leaned in closer. "It is the memory of past lives that sticks with us and haunts us. We can't help but always feel that love."

Draco sat back and snorted once more, causing her to scowl at his impudence. "Weasley, love is something that needs to be worked on, tended to and nurtured or else it wilt and decay and transform into something horrid and putrid."

"But that's what they did!" she exclaimed, ignoring the frightening quality of truth to his words. "They kept their love nurtured and growing, even though they could never sate their unbridled emotions." She began to motion with her hands, growing animated. "Family and society had deemed their love wrong, but they could not halt the ebb and flow of their love - like the sea, like the moors - it was a wild, living thing!"

Draco laughed and genuinely smiled at her exuberance.

"What?" she asked this time, folding her arms across her chest as her lips formed into a pout.

"Are you are suggesting some kind of organic connection - the rejection of society in favour of the individual?" he asked, raising an eyebrow whimsically in the air. "My, how romantic, Weasley."

"Shut up, Malfoy!" she exclaimed as she reached over and playfully and instinctively slapped at his shoulder. "You know, you are a lot like Heathcliff."

He shrugged his shoulders indifferently but remained smiling, still feeling her hand on his shoulder as though her touch was burning through him.

"Aren't you going to call me Catherine?" she asked jokingly.

He shook his head. "No, I think Ginevra suits you best," he replied, looking up at her from the bed, and she blushed, looking away. "You're not selfish enough to be Catherine. Perhaps more like Cathy." He winked at her and then looked serious for a moment. "I'd say we're more like Hareton and Cathy."

"Well, that's a happy ending!" she exclaimed, and they both laughed somewhat awkwardly and turned their heads.

They both sat on his bed, looking down at their hands, unable to finish their literary conversation.

"Uh, Weasley," Draco began, finally breaching the silence. "I never got to properly wish you a happy birthday a month ago."

Ginevra jerked her head up, glancing over at the blond with her mouth ajar. "How did you--?"

"I saw the presents," he explained, leaving out the fact that he had eavesdropped on her conversation with Potter.

Old habits died hard.

Ginevra turned her head again, blushing in confusion. If he knew it was her birthday, why mention it now, a month later?

"I didn't have anything to give you as a present," he explained as though reading her mind. "I thought I'd be able to come up with something to make you or do for you, but ..." He ran his fingers through his shoulder-length hair and breathed heavily, looking both awkward and uncomfortable. "Well, there's not much I can give you, Weasley, so I thought I'd give you an 'I Owe You'."

Ginevra furrowed her brow in confusion as he reached down and picked up a small leather journal and handed it to her. It was her diary. She opened it, and a small piece of paper slipped out.

Weasley,

I owe you a birthday present and/or a favour. Feel free to call in that favour or claim a gift at any time.

Yours truly,

Draco Malfoy

"I figure if I get out of here, you can cash in on this before they send me to Azkaban," he offered, swallowing hard, looking downright humble. "I would've have made an official seal or bond, but ... yeah, no wand." He held up his hands and then lowered them with a sigh. "You'll just have to take my word."

"Malfoy, I don't know what to say," she began, looking down at the paper and the journal.

"I also wanted to give you back your journal," he added, reaching back to rub the back of his head. "It is yours, after all."

"But your entries--" she began, and he cut her off.

"They're yours now. Keep them in there," he said and then hastily added, "if you want to, that is." He shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly and offered her a small smile. "I was given a glimpse into your mind, so it's only fair that you have a piece of mine."

Ginevra raised an eyebrow and stared sidelong at him. "Should I expect many entries featuring the phrase 'Die, She-Weasel, die'?" she asked both cautiously and playfully.

He laughed and shook his head. "No, nothing that entertaining, Weasley," he answered, and she smiled back at him, glancing down at the journal.

"This is a remarkably sweet gesture, Malfoy. Nothing I would have ever expected." She looked up and smiled radiantly at him. "Thanks."

"Draco," he corrected her, and she tilted her head in confusion. "Call me Draco, Weasley." He smiled almost nervously at her, looking dreadfully uncomfortable. "That is, if you'd like to."

She let out a short soft laugh and nodded her head. "Oddly enough, I actually do." She blushed slightly (she seemed to be doing a lot of that with him lately). "And it's not 'Weasley'," she began as if chastising him. "Call me ..." She paused, and her smile widened. "Call me 'Ginevra'."

He nodded his head, and his smile grew warm. "Ginevra it is then," he said as he held out his hand to her, and she looked down at it, momentarily perplexed. "Nice to meet you, Ginevra."

She took his cold hand in her warm one and firmly shook it. "Nice to meet you, Draco."

Who says starting over is impossible? All it took was a handshake to plant the seeds of reconciliation and mark the beginnings of a great potential; in short, they were creating something organic.

~*~

Author notes: See! Draco can be sweet. ^_^ Yes, I would have loved to have put more of George and Percy in this fic, but, unfortunately, in this fic I am only paying attention to Draco and Ginevra. This will be a short fic (50,000 words, maybe more, maybe less) so I just want it to be about the She-Weasel and the Boy-Ferret. The last few chapters, however, will show a bit more of particular characters, such as Harry, Arthur, and Cissa, etc.

Also, know some notions may be lost on you if you never read Wuthering Heights. Needless to say (brief summary), it is a story of two people from different social classes who love each other with an intense passion (somewhat asexual). They are soul mates who are obsessed with one another; however, Heathcliff is more obsessed with revenge on those who slighted him in his youth while Catherine tends to be more obsessed with herself and her station. Remind you of anyone?

It makes you wonder why Ginny calls Draco 'Heathcliff'. They have interchangeable personalities: both Draco and Ginevra have elements of both Heathcliff and Catherine in them; however, they tend to mirror the second generation (Cathy and Hareton) with Ginevra being more like Catherine's daughter, Cathy, and Draco being more like Hareton, a boy raised by Heathcliff. Unlike Catherine and Heathcliff, who both had a sad ending, unable to be with one another, Cathy and Hareton were able to overcome their differences and fall in love (much like meeting anew, being given a clean slate).

I realise that this was a fairly poor discussion, but then it served its purpose: when one is willing to change and grow, love becomes potential; it becomes organic.

Here is the true beginning for Draco and Ginevra. Can they make anything of it? Can their relationship grow?