Where'd You Go?

Chapter Five. A Second-Hand Life

Jealousy is both reasonable and belongs to reasonable men, while envy is base and belongs to the base, for the one makes himself get good things by jealousy, while the other does not allow his neighbour to have them through envy.

--Aristotle

Ginny walked into Number 12 Grimmauld Place with no small amount of trepidation. The house was only slightly less grim than the last time she had been there, if only because it was a little cleaner. She supposed she had her mum to thank for that one. Their footsteps echoed ominously, and Ginny was suddenly very aware of just how empty the house was. Not only were they in such a depressing house that carried some sad memories, it would also be lonely with only the four of them, even with occasional visits from the Order.

"No need to be quiet," Molly happily announced. "I believe Albus finally found a way to shut the old hag up."

"What are you talking about?" Draco asked irritably, limping in after her father. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the cool late-September air.

"Why didn't he do it before?" Ginny asked, completely disregarding him. Molly and Arthur turned to her, following her suit.

Her father shrugged. "Believe it or not, it was never really a top priority. It was always something that was meant to be done but just didn't happen."

"Oh," Ginny said. "Well, that's a relief then." At least it would be one less thing to worry about.

"You have the same room from before, Ginny," her mother said her. "And you can show...Draco to his room."

"Which is it?"

"Harry and Ron's old room, of course. They'll hardly be needing it," she said wryly as she headed away down the corridor towards the kitchen, Ginny's father following after her.

"Perfect," Malfoy muttered.

"Come on then," Ginny sighed. She picked up her bags and started up the steps. She didn't hear any footsteps behind her and noticed he wasn't following.

"If you're waiting for your special invitation, that was it."

"Aren't you going to get my bags?" he asked arrogantly, pointing to them as if she were dumb.

"Do I look like a house-elf to you?"

"Well actually..." he smirked.

"Don't say another word. If you want your bags brought up, you'll bring them up your own damned self," Ginny spat angrily and stalked up the steps.

She really despised him! How could one person spark so much fury in her? It was past time for him to learn that the world did not revolve around him, and he would have to do things for himself and respect other people.

"I need help," called a reluctant voice. "My arms are still really sore."

Ginny felt an odd sensation in her stomach. She knew that it was partly guilt and a tad bit of embarrassment. She went downstairs for her slice of humble pie.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said quietly, genuinely meaning it. "I forgot."

"It's okay," he said, not meeting her eyes. "I suppose I didn't really want to ask for your help, and so I was rude to you instead."

Ginny looked up in surprise. Was this his way in apologizing? Was he actually showing some vulnerability? And hold on - had she just called him by his first name?

"Not to mention I'm a little peeved that I get Potter's leftover room," he drawled, his icy demeanour back in place.

So was that how he was going to do it? Fine, two could play that game.

"You'd better get used to being in Harry's shadow from now on. He is, after all, the hero." And with that said, she hefted up his trunk and sauntered up the stairs once more.

It took almost no time for them all to settle into a routine. In the mornings, Mrs. Weasley cooked breakfast, and then Ginny and Draco would take it in turns doing the dishes. And to his credit, he did always get all the chores that he was assigned done, though he did them very begrudgingly.

After breakfast, Mr. Weasley would head to work while the rest of them did school work. Mrs. Weasley taught a different subject each day and gave them Fridays and the weekends off.

Molly would then bustle off to other parts of the house and do either cleaning or what Ginny assumed was Order work. That left her and Malfoy to their own devices. She usually had nothing better to do than study or read. What Malfoy did in all his free time was beyond her, not that she particularly cared what.

As the lonely days of October crept by, Ginny turned more and more to writing letters. Writing had always been a release for her, and she loved being able to express all her feelings on paper, without fear of it judging her. She wrote things she wouldn't get a chance to say, or at least not now:

Dear Harry,

How's life without me? Because I'm in hell without you. I miss you so much. I never thought I would be one of those girls that needed a guy in her life. But you're not just any guy; you're Harry. I love you with everything inside of me, and I know we have a great future together. I may have had a crush on the Boy-Who-Lived, but I fell in love with the person that you are.

Love forever and always,

Ginny

She wrote things she would never say to anybody:

Dear Ron,

I know we haven't had the best few years. I was so hurt when you neglected me at school, and for Harry no less. You abandoned me when I needed my big brother and best friend the most. I still love you very much, and I know we've moved past it, but I think a part of me won't ever quite completely forgive you for it. We're family and that comes above all things.

But you know what? Even though you're probably the biggest prat that ever lived, I still think I admire you above all the rest of my brothers. Bill and Charlie are brave and adventurous, true. But I don't know them as well because they're so much older than me, and they're harder to relate to. Percy actually holds the title for biggest prat at the moment, so I suppose you get a reprieve on that one for now. Fred and George are brilliant, but I would certainly never want to be like them. You, on the other hand, are the one that will get the farthest of us all. You have a drive that I admire you for. Believe me, I know all your many faults. But despite them, I still want to be like you the most.

Your sister,

Ginny

Ron wasn't the only one where she left things unsaid between them.

Dear Hermione,

There used to be very few things I could stand about you. You stole my brother away from me. You were Harry's best friend. You were the smartest witch in the whole school. The list goes on.

And right when I was probably hating you the most, you reached out to me and became one of my dearest friends. I kind of hate myself for it now. Neither of us makes friends that easily, but because of you, I opened up to other people. I wish I were as good a friend as you are.

I think it's very ironic that the very person I used to dislike is now one of the people I can't stand to live without. What can I say? You grew on me.

Ginny

And finally, there were the letters she never thought she would even want to write. It was the letter that confused her the most.

Draco,

Just who are you anyway? You're not good, you're not bad. You're not light or dark. You're not nice or evil. I can't figure you out, and it bothers me. A lot.

Do you even know who you are? You stand for nothing, and yet, I think there's more to you than you let on. There's a depth to you that I want to understand, but I'm scared. I'm afraid of what I'll find.

I wouldn't ever tell you this, but I find you very intriguing. By nature I'm supposed to hate you. But by now, I've learned not to hate someone on principle alone. Just let me in and let me judge for myself. Besides, there's nothing better to do...

It was the only one of her letters that she didn't sign. Besides those, she also wrote to her parents and other friends. The golden thing about pouring her heart out on paper was that she burned most of them after she was finished writing. It was liberating to say those things to herself, but she didn't think she would ever actually say them aloud. It may have been cowardly, but it was better than keeping her emotions bottled inside, and much better than writing them down in a diary.

It was on one of these boring October days that she decided to pay a visit on Draco - in her mind at least, they were past the formality and/or animosity of surnames.

"What do you want, Weasley?" he asked acidly, obviously not agreeing with her. Ginny had been knocking on his door for a full minute. She knew he was in there because she heard him moving around. Finally she had just decided to open the door without his invitation.

"I just wanted to see what you were doing," she said with a smile as she came in his room. It was different from when Harry and Ron were staying there. The two beds were pushed together to make one big bed. Typical, she thought sarcastically.

It was also very...clean. A lot cleaner than her room, at least. And there were no kind of personal affects on the walls or on the bedside table. No clothes thrown about on the floor or stuff hanging out the wardrobe. Perhaps part of the reason was because he didn't have much stuff to begin with, but there was barely any sign that anyone even lived in here!

"Very cheerful room," Ginny said cheekily.

"Shut up," he snarled.

"What are you doing anyway?" She realised he was sitting on the bed with a large book in his hand. He was wearing a green jumper that contrasted nicely with his ice blond hair.

"I don't see how it's any of your business," he said icily, placing the book on the bedside table. It was then that she noticed the piece of charcoal in his other hand.

"You draw?" she asked, astonished. "I never would have guessed that you were artistic."

"If you didn't come for a specific reason, would you mind leaving? Actually, even if you came for a reason, leave anyway."

"I've been thinking, right?" Ginny closed the door behind her and took a few tentative steps into the room.

"Never a good thing," he muttered.

"I've been thinking that maybe...I don't know. Maybe we could be friends?

"What!" Draco asked, popping up from the bed. "Why the hell would you want to be friends with me? More importantly, why would I want to be friends with you?"

"Because we're stuck with each other, that's why!" Ginny insisted, inching closer to him. "You hardly think you're my first choice, do you? Because you're obviously not. But we're going to be with each other for months, maybe even longer; I think the least we could do is be civil to each other."

As she was talking, she gravitated closer and closer to him, until she was almost right in his face. It was unreadable and bore its trademark indifference.

"Fine, Weasley," he said in a bored tone. "We can be civil to each other. You may not be up to my usual standards, but I suppose you'll have to do. But make no mistake that I'm doing this for my sake only. Your little tirades don't move me in the slightest."

"I wouldn't think anything less," Ginny drawled, adopting his attitude.

"Starting tomorrow," he said and picked up his drawing book again. "I'm busy now."

"One more thing."

"What?" he asked and lifted an eyebrow.

"My name is not Weasley. It's Ginny."

I want her, Draco thought as he watched her leave and close the door softly. I really want her.

Somehow, Ginny Weasley was starting to grow on him. He couldn't stop thinking about her, couldn't stop wondering about her.

Hating her would probably have been much easier than being so intrigued by her. Maybe she was so implanted in his mind because he really didn't have anything better to think about. It was either daydream about Ginny, or face his horrible demons. He would rather think about McGonagall starkers than confront his awful summer.

That's not it, and you know it. You want her because of her. Because she's nice to you despite all you stand for. And you want her in spite of all she stands for.

She had been right, though, about being in Potter's shadow. Draco was living in his leftover life. It literally ate him up from the inside out.

And now he was starting to fancy Potter's girl and Weasley's sister. Could he possibly be in any deeper?

Draco looked once more at the picture he had drawn. She was a good likeness, but nowhere near as good as the real thing.