Reviews of this story on this site and others said the underlining and bold was annoying…. Not quite the affect I was going for, so I'm reposting it without the formatting in the hope it will grab more interest. I really enjoyed writing this one-shot as it was something very different for me, so some feedback would be fabulous to help inspire me to write more (or not :S) in the future.
Thanks for your time, and please, enjoy!
Becki
Your cold grey eyes bore into the glowing fireplace, a parchment lies neglected in your lap, a quill waiting anxiously to be used.
I sit down on an armchair near you. Your body flinches at the sudden movement, but your face remains emotionless. I fidget, trying to position myself comfortably before I begin my next letter to Harry. I still continue to write to him, even though my optimism for a reply ebbs away little by little every day. The rustling of my parchments and banging of my legs is too much for you. Your head turns from the mesmerizing flames and your eyes now bore into mine. Your nose wrinkles in disgust and your mouth curls into a snarl.
"For fuck's sake Red, stop acting like a drugged up Weasel and sit still. You're disturbing me."
"Disturbing what?" I ask dryly, "you've been staring into that fireplace for the last half hour."
"I'm thinking. Alright? Just piss off and leave me alone…" you pause, then realise you haven't insulted me enough, "why have you been watching me for half an hour anyway? Christ you'll be falling in love with me next."
I smile, I can't help it. There was no point arguing back, I was over that now. I've grown up a lot since Harry left Hogwarts for the war, I've learnt to start forgiving people and living every day to its fullest. It's a shame you haven't, because you are the person I want to be able to forgive. Not because I love you, Merlin no! I'd fall in love with Snape before I'd fall in love with you. But once I can forgive you I know that I'm stronger than you. And once I'm stronger than you, well…. Who knows where life will take me? It's become a fascination to see what lies beneath your cold exterior. In fact some may call it an obsession.
This obsession I have with you is taking over my mind. I am desperate to find a reason for the hatred you bestow; desperate to find a side of you no one believes exists. The thing is… I believe that it does, but maybe I'm just hopeful. Maybe I'm wasting my time searching for an explanation that I will never get; searching for a part of you that isn't there to be found.
It isn't until you groan and rest your head in your hands that I realise I'm still watching you. You suddenly look weak, like you've let you guards down and I can't bring myself to take my eyes off you. They wonder over your hunched frame and I notice bruises and deep cuts all down your arm. My stomach churns with shock and concern… something I have never felt for you, and before I can stop myself.
"You should really get those checked out Malfoy"
Your head shoots up at me, you look tired and the dark rings under your eyes soften your usually piercing glare. It makes you look helpless, desperate. Still not thinking properly I move over to the sofa next to you, it startles you and you're slow to reply.
"What part of piss off didn't you understand Red? Keep your filthy poor nose out of my business." You don't look at me as you say this; your eyes are fixed past mine. I try hard not to show anything in my expression, and as soon as you notice you haven't had any effect, you turn back to the fire, chewing your lip nervously.
Seeing you like this makes me feel almost sympathetic for you. I am going against everything I have ever stood up for by what I am about to do.
"Here let me do it." I say and reach for your arm. To my surprise you do not pull away but let me mutter a few spells to sort out the wounds to best I can. Your arm feels warm against my cool fingers and I hear you exhale painfully when I touch a particularly deep cut. You stay perfectly still until I say that I'm done and you wrench your arm out of my grasp.
"Why are you doing this?" you ask after a horrifically awkward silence.
"I'm a Weasley and I have friends like Harry and Hermione. You learn to spot people in their times of need, no matter who they are. Like Dumbledore said, this is a time for uniting not making enemies."
That's when I see something. A flicker across your eyes, I've hit a nerve and you stutter to respond. The wrinkle appears across your nose once more and you slam your parchment centimetres away from my lap.
"Fuck off Weasley, I'm not some pathetic wuss in need. I don't need anyone's fucking help. Especially not from someone like you. So you can shove your sympathy up your arse and leave me the fuck alone!"
You storm off slamming several doors behind you and I can't help but feel like you've left a part of you with me. You let your guards down and it has sparked a new eagerness inside of me.
My obsession is growing stronger.
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I don't see you for a few weeks. When you do return to Hogwarts you look worse off than you did before you went. To your distaste I am first to greet you as you leave the Great Hall.
"What do you want Red?" you growl, your eyes shifting to make sure no one else can see me with you. This hurts. I dare not stop to ponder why.
"I just wanted to check you were okay. You looked so weak that evening, and then you just disappeared." I try my hardest to put as much concern in my voice as possible, but it ends up sounding almost patronising.
"I am not weak Weasley. Now leave me, before someone sees us together. You know how people here gossip, the last person I'd want to be rumoured to be shagging is you."
I flinch, waiting for you to storm off but you don't. I feel slightly relieved by this, almost excited by the prospect. We frown, both trying to figure out the other, searching for the reason each is staying. My eyes flicker over your figure, your slouch has gotten worse and as my gaze reaches your arm I notice that your cuts have multiplied.
"I thought I told you to get those checked out," I say, pointing towards your bloody forearm. You quickly whip your coat over it as someone approaches and before I can say anything else you've disappeared into the dimly lit corridor.
I rush away; I don't feel like talking to anyone right now. I suddenly find myself aching, it feels the same as when you were away.
How am I supposed to figure you out when I can only concentrate whilst I am looking into your eyes? This scares me and I hurry to my dormitory as quickly as I can.
There's a note on my bed. It's from you.
Meet me.
Room of Requirement.
Midnight.
DM
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I check my watch, its twelve o' five. There's no sign of you anywhere. I never imagined you to be the type of person to be late. I begin to pace outside of the door, my stomach turns in nerves… excitement?
Without thinking of the secret of the room, my pacing causes the door to shudder and swing open. I step anxiously towards it and peer inside. The last time I saw inside the Room of Requirement was for Harry's DA meetings and I have to stop my jaw dropping at the latest transformation. The high coffered ceiling is decorated with crests and chandeliers; portraits of solemn blonds line the elaborately papered walls and the floor is covered with some exotic animal skin. The main source of light floods from the magnificent fireplace in the centre of the room, and sitting on the large leather sofa in front of it, silhouetted by the flames, is you.
"Malfoy?" my voice cracks and I feel my cheeks burn. I've never felt like this around you. You stir and I take the silence to mean to walk over to you. I sit nervously at the other end of the sofa, the leather squeaks underneath me and I'm sure I see your lips curl into a smile.
After a prolonged silence, my patience wears thin and I growl, "Malfoy, why do you want me here? If you're just going to sit there saying nothing, I might as well go." I start to sit up but you fling out your arm and knock me back down. Your grip on my wrist is rough but gentle and I look down to see blood staining your mint green shirt. I debate with myself whether to make the next move as you seem unwilling to let go. I reach out with my free hand and begin to roll up your sleeve. You flinch as my fingers brush your swollen skin, which feels disturbingly cold against mine.
"They're so deep." I say, more to myself than you. I glance up at you and you look away immediately, ashamed. "Why are you letting me touch you? Aren't you worried about catching my germs?" I mock your own bullying.
"Don't flatter yourself," you croak, your voice is hoarse, your eyes travel back to mine and I'm surprised to see that they're bloodshot. "This doesn't mean you can touch me whenever you fancy, or at all for that matter. I just can't heal these stupid cuts myself, I need you to do it again."
"Why can't you go to the hospital wing?" I ask, feeling slightly led on and used.
"I just can't okay!" You voice rises and you run your hand through your hair, it falls loosely back into place and I notice it has lost its usual vibrant charm. "Just do this for me and, trust me, I will leave you be."
"Alright" I agree, there's no point arguing with you. I move closer and lie your arm over my lap. Once again I mutter the healing spells Hermione taught me, it takes a few goes to get rid of the deepest ones and nasty marks still scar your otherwise perfect flesh. I run my fingers over them and tell you that I'm done. I prepare myself for another insult but it doesn't come. You flex your newly healed arm and agitatedly rub your eyes. I dare myself to ask you the question that has been playing on my mind for weeks. "How did you get those?"
"Mind your own fucking business, Weasel bean." You snap, cracking your knuckles in turn. I attempt to leave but my obsession stops me. Your presence comforts me and I have a feeling mine does you.
"Where are we, anyway?" I ask, ignoring you rolling your eyes in annoyance, "I thought this place was meant to give a room that well… you required. Why do you 'require' some creepy big room with funny looking portraits?" The blonds frown at me and yell insults across from the stone walls.
"This is my living room." You reply, agitated. "And those funny looking portraits are my ancestors." My mouth forms a silent 'o' and I feel almost guilty. "So stop bitching you stupid mudblood lover." Almost.
"Forget it, I wish I'd never helped it. You don't deserve it. All you care about is yourself. You know the only reason I came here tonight was because some stupid part of me believed there was more to you than this? Merlin was I wrong. You're still the vulgar spoilt mummy's boy I met on day one. I can't believe I could be obsessed with the idea that there's a reason you're such a twat to everyone, there isn't is there? You just do it for fun. You love to watch people in pain, and it quadruples in pleasure for you if you've caused it." By now I begin to yell. "You're worthless Draco Malfoy, you're pathetic scum and I hate you!"
I raise my hand to run it through my hair in frustration and you jump back, your face panic stricken and lip trembling. "Please God don't hurt me." You whimper. Your icy blue eyes look up at me and they're full of fear and desperation. The adrenaline built up from my rant plummets and I feel emotionally sick. I have never seen such fear in anyone's eyes, especially someone like you. I'm scared, terrified. You're cowering under my gaze, it's something Gryffindors have always dreamt of but I hate it. I turn and start to hurry towards the door, feeling my eyes beginning to well up with stinging tears.
"Ginny..." I freeze. Red? Weasel Bean? Mudblood lover? I've heard them all before, but never Ginny. Your usual drawl sounds abnormally full of character and although it nearly chokes you to say it, you make my name sound like a soft growl that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I turn to you, speechless. You're face is flushed with embarrassment and you look disarrayed by the whole experience. You've let your guards down completely and immediately we both know that I'm the only one who's ever seen it.
"Ginny. It was my mother"
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You spend the next twenty minutes in silence, your head in your hands, fingering your hair in frustration and angst. Out of the blue you kick the coffee table sat in front of us and I jump nervously.
"Fuck! I can't believe this is happening." You growl, slamming your fist down on the arm of the sofa. "Weasley, none of this happened alright? Just fuck off to Wonder Boy, Mudblood and your pathetic excuse of a brother and don't come near me again."
"D…" my throat tightens, "Draco." You look up at me, your eyes more bloodshot before and your face paler. "I'm not leaving you on your own right now."
"Christ Red, I'm not some mental case, I'm not gonna go killing people if you leave me alone for five minutes!"
I ignore your stupid comments but continue to stare at you intently. I watch the way your brow burrows as you think, the continual fluttering of your sodden eyelashes and the sensual look on your face as you subconsciously run your soft fingers over the rough stubble defining your chin.
"Why did you tell me if you didn't want anyone to know?" I ask finally, attempting to keep my gaze and thoughts away from your well chiselled face and body…
"I didn't have much choice," you try to cover a croak in your voice, "I thought you were about to beat the bloody crap out of me!"
"But why would you think that?" My constant questioning beginning to annoy even me.
"Because I'm used to it!" You snap, your temper boiling again.
Eventually my nagging and bugging tips you over the edge and you slip up, your hard, distant exterior caves in and you tell me everything. Starting from the pressure and hatred put upon you by your father right up to present day…
"When my father," you say it with such disgust, "got locked up in Azkaban, my mother… well she didn't react to it brilliantly." You muster a smile but I fail to find the funny side. "My parents have always had such a large circle of friends… well people who were afraid of them, and when father left so did they. They weren't afraid anymore." You pause, trying to find the strength to carry on; I place a shaky hand on your knee for reassurance. You look at it briefly and carry on, "Then mother turned to the Fire Whiskey. It wasn't that noticeable at all, she was just ill in the mornings and not around much in the evenings. Then the weekend before I saw you in the prefect's quarters, it became very obvious. I had visited for the weekend, her last letter in the week gave the impression something was up. I was sat in my living room and she came in, absolutely wankered, she started screaming at me about how everything was my fault. I'd never heard her scream like that, in fact I'd never heard her raise her voice, she'd never dare with father. Then well… the cuts and bruises speak for themselves don't they?" You end on a sad note, your eyes shimmering more than usual.
Suddenly everything falls into place and I find myself speechless, I squeeze your knee gently and you smile a simple thank you. Everything floods through my mind and I can look at you in a completely different light. I thought once that I could forgive you I would know that I was stronger than you, but I feel weak.
"So why is the Room of Requirement your living room? If that's where… it first happened?" I ask nervously.
You smile and rub your forehead. "Because I asked for somewhere I could be with you and feel safe…. And here we are." The meaning of this goes over me at first and then it clicks. We're sat in the place where you've been hurt the most in your life, but you feel safe here with me. "I guess this place reveals more than you think you know yourself," you sigh, placing your hand on top of mine, "it shows you what you need and what you want." You look up at me and your eyes are full of light and warmth.
My heart pounds and girly giggle escapes my lips. I dare not break the eye contact; it feels as if it would be the end of the world if I did. You lean forward slowly and I can feel your breath quickening against my face. Your free hand reaches into my hair and you place the gentlest of kisses on my lips.
And just like that my obsession is over.