Ginny felt her entire body go limp. It had been so long since he had last kissed her and she had, quite frankly, forgotten what it was like. But before she had a chance to go about remembering, he pulled away and looked at her. Looked at her with those stunning gray eyes that seemed like endless skies of stormy clouds before a mid-afternoon storm.
Then it hit her. The eyes. That was what was wrong. She hastily glanced at the painting and went to it, staring at it as if in a trance. The eyes on the painting were dull, flat, lifeless. The eyes of a cold, heartless Draco she had known in school.
"Draco, get over here. Now." she ordered, picking up her palette.
"I told you that you were obsessed with art."
"Its not that," she explained as she dabbed her paints together and started mixing them on a palette, "I've just found what this painting needs."
"It needs something?" Draco asked as he lowered himself on to the seat he had become oh so familiar with.
"Yes," Ginny replied, "now shut up so I can paint your eyes."
"Again?"
"Yes! Quiet!"
Ginny mixed. She painted, wiped it off, painted again, and wipe it off. By the time his birthday rolls around, his eyes would be three inches tick with paint. Everytime Ginny had thought she found the right color, it looked flat and lifeless on the canvas. Either his eyes were to grey or too blue. They were too angry or too vacant. Ginny thought the best photographer couldn't capture his eyes, seeing how often they seemed to change.
Ginny scowled. She had been in a particularly bad mood lately, being unable to go any further on the painting with the eyes unfinished. The paintbrush sat motionless on the palette full of grays and blues. Sun streamed in through the window. It looked like a beautiful day; bright blue sky, completely cloudless, a crisp breeze blowing the brightly colored leaves across the lawn.
Ginny sighed and sank into a chair on the opposite wall from her canvas. Even from this distance, she could tell the eyes were off. They just didn't gleam like Draco's eyes did. Her head fell into her hands. She heard Draco get up from his chair and his shoes softly clicking on the marble floor but did not raise her eyes.
"Do you know what day it is? Twenty-something?"
"Sounds right," Ginny replied through her hands.
"So there's a little while until New Years, right?"
"...Right..."
"Do you have plans for New Years?"
"That depends," she said, lifting her head enough so her eyes peeked through her fingers. "Why?"
"Well.. I have a pretty good reputation with the ministry, being a.. a patron if you will. And I get special privileges without actually working for them. And there is a Masquerade Ball that I would like to have a certain young lady to accompany me too."
Ginny raised her head and titled it back on her palm, looking up to his eyes for a millisecond before glancing up to his eyebrows. She was slowly coming to the realization that if she lingered on his eyes for too long, she would not be able to make intelligible sentences.
"And who is this fortunate young lady?"
"Well," Draco smirked as he slid down onto the armrest, "I thought about asking my secretary..."
Ginny pushed him off the chair. Not expecting this, he crashed to the floor before his cat-like reflexes to stop it.
"I said I thought about it!" He retorted angrily as he rose to his knees beside the chair.
Ginny allowed herself a small grin. She turned to face him and asked him, "And what changed your mind?"
"You see, there's this artist who has been forced to put up with me for the past few months and I thought it would be nice to give her a break of sorts."
"Well, if you put it that way," Ginny said smiling, "the artist has no choice but to accept."
Instead of painting the next day, they took a field trip to London. They walked into Madame Malkan's and were greeted by an elderly witch in mauve who wouldn't leave them alone until they insisted for the fifth time that they were just looking thank you and didn't need any help. They waltzed over to the costume robes section and Ginny began rifling through the racks and racks of costume robes. Draco eyed a leopard-print robe warily, as if it was going to jump at him and force itself on to his body.
"Should I even wear a robe," he asked Ginny.
"As opposed to going nude? Well, I expect no one would recognize you." He laughed.
"I meant maybe just wear, pants or something."
"Sure. Men's robes they just look like dresses, anyway. I've never really fancied a man in robes..." Draco immediately turned from the rows of robes to help Ginny sort through mounds and mounds of women's costumes.
Rows of bright dresses loomed before them. Flashes of sparkling gold and silver as well as glimpses of calming blues and greens shimmered on the racks. Ginny gently went through the highly expensive outfits. None of them were really speaking to her. Yes, they were all beautiful but none screamed 'wear me.'
"How formal is this little event?" Ginny asked, looking at a very plain but comfortable looking brown dress.
"If you are planning on wearing that," Draco said, raising an eyebrow to the simple dress, "I suggest you reconsider. They might throw you out thinking you merely lived on the street around the corner." Ginny scowled but none-the-less, pushed the dress back onto the rack. "This one would fit in," he continued, holding up a bright red dress made of silk.
"It would clash with my hair," Ginny said plainly.
"Suit yourself. What about this one?"
"No, thank you," Ginny said without looking at it. Her eyes were glued on a black dress in front of her. It hung magnificently on a mannequin in the corner of the room, almost hidden behind the line of other dresses. It was black, trimmed in silver, with a light gray underskirt. The dress itself was relatively simple in design but still had that air of royalty to it. The skirt was quite a bit bigger than what Ginny would have found ideal, but it would work.
"Black," he said. "I like it." He had followed her to where she stood staring blankly at the dress in the window.
And with that, it was purchased. Draco insisted on paying for it, but Ginny stubbornly refused. After all, she was a well known painter and she had more than enough money. Just because she didn't flaunt it didn't mean she didn't have it.
"Now I need a mask," she said, as they walked down busy Diagon Alley, clutching the large bag that was Ginny's dress, "and you need a costume, too." She led the way to a bright orange store, known for its elaborate costuming supplies.
Feathered, beaded, sparkled, charmed to mirror another's face... There were no masks that were simple, face-hiding masks. Ginny was looking at a mask that resembled a butterfly, but the wings fluttered randomly, when she heard someone from behind. She spun around and saw him. Draco was wearing a red suit, styled like that of the nineteenth century. He wore a half-mask that looked like a skull and had a short cape over one shoulder.
"Well?..."
"It gives me the creeps," Ginny said. "Get another one."
Draco scoffed in mock disbelief. "Do I not get brownie points for branching out of my usual box? My usual all black box?"
"Yes, good on you. Ten points. Now go get something else."
She turned back to the rows and rows of masks that lined the wall. She was thinking of the possibilities that maybe face paint would be easier when she heard her named being called from behind her.
"Is this more suitable?"
It was black, with a white undershirt. His black pants seemed to melt into his black boots and his short coat was very becoming. He had a long black cape and a plain black mask that covered the top half of his face. Ginny was nearly speechless.
"Buy it," she said, "and I'll be right there. I've found the mask I want." She picked up a plain black mask, nearly identical to Draco's except a little more feminine, and followed him to the cashier.
Ginny struggled to keep her massive dress from touching the ground, but somehow every time she got a good grip on it, some fold would slip down and try to bring the rest of the beg with it. Draco walked
next to her for a while, watching her struggle, and then reached over to take the bag.
"I can, oof... manage," Ginny grunted as she almost dropped her mask in attempt to keep her dress neat.
"If you insist," Draco said and his hand fell back at his side.
"Wait," Ginny said quickly, "if you really want to help me, this dress is really big and it'd be nice of you... I mean, the only gentlemanly thing would be to take it..."
Draco grinned and took the dress and swung it easily over his shoulder where it didn't get dirty and didn't encumber him in the slightest. Ginny frowned.
"Where're we headed to, anyway," she asked as she swung her bag around.
"I don't know, Leaky Cauldron maybe?"
"Sure."
They ate a very pleasurable lunch/early dinner and headed their separate ways. Draco to his manor and Ginny to her apartment... only to drop her mask on the floor and lay her dress messily on her bed and apparated back to Diagon Alley to inform Claudia who then closed the art store (shooing three potential customers out) and insisted on every detail of everything Ginny had done over the past few weeks. Ginny didn't give them, much to Caudia's disappointment. She didn't want to live in a fishbowl, even if the only person watching was her friend.
Author's note:
I know. It's not really that exciting. It might take me a bit to get back into the groove of things and such, so I'm sorry if the next couple chapters are a bit rocky. At least it's forward movement in the plot, right?
Thanks, as always, to all the reviewers. If not for you all, this story would have remained unfinished until the end of time. Happy reviewing!
Next chapter: Who knows. Not me! I'll try to slide some cute fluff in though since this one didn't really have a lot.