Proximity Shadows

"I love the stars because they cannot say anything,

I love the stars because they do not judge anyone."

- Natsuki Takaya

Ten years since the fall of Voldemort, the Wizarding world had found itself undergoing a few radical changes, the main one of which was that most wizards and witches now straddled both the Muggle and magical world and found themselves living and working in both communities with ease.

With Hermione Granger as head of the Department of Education within the Ministry, Muggle studies had become one of the core classes in Hogwarts from the age of eleven. Furthermore, night classes ran for adults to help improve their knowledge of the non-magical way of life; her hypothesis was that if the ignorance could be abolished, the fear and prejudice would also disappear eventually.

It seemed to finally be affecting the wider Wizarding community, and the anti-Muggle hate groups seemed to be dwindling. Naturally, Hermione was aware that it would take decades and a few new generations of magical folk before the attitudes of some of the older pureblood families changed, but she was proud of how well the community seemed to be adapting and changing. Thus it filled her chest with pride to help Ginevra Weasley, her sister-in-law and best friend, to move into her new Muggle flat in Chelsea.

Ginny had been as useless as the rest of her family, Percy aside, in adapting to the Muggle way of life; electricity perplexed her and the telephone had been something of an enigma to the young redhead. However, by happy accident one of Ginny's paintings had been spotted by a Muggle art dealer and some time last year she had been thrust into the Muggle limelight. She now enjoyed success in both worlds as an accomplished artist with a flair for capturing emotion.

It was nearly midnight when Ron, Hermione, Harry and Luna staggered out of Ginny's new home, leaving her sitting on the floor nursing a mug of red wine amongst mountains of boxes.

She had fallen in love with the property from the moment she saw it; it was big and spacious, with high ceilings and a view of both the communal gardens and the harbour. She was on the fifth floor, but had been assured that the flat was wonderfully soundproof. She would not disturb, or be disturbed by, the tenants above of below her. To be certain, however, Ginny had placed a couple of Silencing Charms over the rooms; she may be living in a Muggle flat but she was still a witch, and so long as the magic wasn't obvious or ostentatious she was well within her rights to cast charms on her home.

The walls were magnolia, but as Ginny had bought the property instead of renting she had grand decor plans. They, however, could wait until the morning.

Draining the dregs of her wine, she stood and stretched her arms up high, feeling her back crack satisfactorily. She padded around the boxes and bags until she reached her bedroom. The only thing she'd bothered roping her friends into setting up was her large oak bed. The duvet cover was cream with maroon and burnt orange paisley designs all of over it.

Without bothering to hunt out her tooth brush, Ginny pulled off her khaki maxi dress in one fluid movement, tossed her underwear aside, flicked off the bedroom light (that would take a little getting used to) and crawled into her bed. The fabric felt cool and crisp and new against her flesh. Lying in the darkness, her eyes no long assaulted by her new surroundings, her nose picked up on the smell of fresh paint and new carpets. The silence of living alone and in her new flat was satisfying and almost comforting. This was her space, her home.

OOO

Draco had been sitting on his balcony, sipping whiskey since he'd arrived home at about eleven o'clock that evening. He'd been watching the flat opposite him.

His Chelsea penthouse was a part of a large mansion of flats that was constructed in a square shape around a large communal garden. There were six floors to each side and two flats on each floor. It was nice, and despite a majority of the tenants being Muggles, Draco found he quite enjoyed the small community. Most kept to themselves, however everyone was friendly and respectful and, naturally, they had very little clue who the blond millionaire was. In fact, no one seemed to care; in Chelsea everyone had wealth, it didn't impress anyone there.

Draco worked for Malfoy Inc. and had been the first board member to want to branch out into the Muggle world. He had begun with publishing, then moved on to restaurants and bars throughout the major UK cities. He found he was enjoying the challenge of exploring new markets and clientele. Furthermore, the Muggle world gave him a little more freedom than the Wizarding world. Once he'd committed to helping forge relationships between the Muggle and magical community he'd found himself enjoying Muggles and their strange contraptions.

He wouldn't say he'd go as far to befriend - or date - a Muggle, but he no longer saw them as beneath him. Simply different. Furthermore, they left him alone. He could go for a drink, or to a shop without people gawping (well, he had his fair share of male and female attention but their eyes were more 'come hither' and less 'you're a dodgy type who shouldn't be trusted').

He continued to sit on his balcony and watch the flat opposite his, its windows all lit up with the warm glow of electric light in the darkness. The people inside cast long shadows across the walls, and if he wasn't mistaken it was Harry Potter, two of the Weasley siblings, Granger and Luna Lovegood that he could spy through the glass. He hadn't been certain who it was that was going to actually be living there until all but one shadow had left.

The youngest Weasley had finally left home. Draco was surprised it had taken her this long - she was a talented, succesful artist and was making an awful lot of money. He knew because he'd bought a painting of hers recently at a Muggle gallery for about twenty thousand pounds; it hung in one of his bars. The canvas was about six feet tall and a mesh of blue and purple hues. It depicted shadowy figures and half seen faces. It was eerie and interesting and he'd loved it right away. In fact, he'd considered hanging it in his own flat but couldn't bare the thought of what his father might say if he saw the Weasley girl's art hanging in his son's home. It wasn't worth the inevitable argument that would ensue. Draco had enough of battling with various prejudices outside of his family, without fanning his father's ire.

Draco watched as Ginny stood and stretched, her brilliant red hair falling down her shoulders like a waterfall. He watched her strip, her body naked and glorious. Perhaps she wasn't aware how bright her lights were, and who could see into her new home. Perhaps she simply didn't care. With a flick of a switch she was gone from his sight, and the night seemed peaceful and dark once more.

Looking up, Draco found himself gazing at the heavens; it must have been one of those incredibly rare, clear evenings in London. Having grown up in the countryside, Draco was used to being able to see the stars most of the time, however, since moving to town it had become a less frequent occurrence. He'd always loved stargazing; as a child he'd snuck out of the manor countless times to observe the stars. It was peaceful and beautiful and for a few hours it made him feel like he belonged to no one. No pressure, no judgement.

Finishing off his last gulp of whiskey he found himself shuffling back into his shoes, grabbing his keys and leaving his flat. Walking down the stairs rather than taking the elevator (one of the Muggle contraptions he still couldn't quite bring himself to trust), he found himself in the garden. His eyes adjusted to the darkness quickly and he found he soon walked not shrouded in complete darkness, but merely in a shadowy kind of grey.

Everything was muted, except the stars which twinkled above. He could hear the distant noise of London still dancing and drinking through the night, the buzz of taxis and night buses and sirens humming in the background.

He lay on the grass, arms folded beneath his head and breathed deeply. It had been a warm day and the air still smelled of summer heat, but the floor was cold and damp with dew already. It felt good; fresh and soothing. This week had been far too stressful and long.

OOO

She had expected sleep to come easily. It had been a long day; she had felt drained both emotionally and physically after moving out of her parents' this week. But she lay in the darkness of her new home watching the shadows caused by the city lights across her room, unable to drift off into unconsciousness. She felt content and relaxed, but seemed to have lost the wine haze that often carried her off to sleep the minute her head found a pillow.

She lay there for half an hour before deciding she was going to get up and be productive; she could spend an hour or two unpacking her studio, then go back to bed. She wasn't due at the Graffiti Gallery - a bohemian little space in Shoreditch, run by a Squib - until tomorrow afternoon, and thus could sleep late if she wanted to.

She clicked on the lamp that sat on the floor by her bed, and the room was flooded with dim, straw-coloured light, less harsh than the powerful overhead lights.

There was something about moving around after one was supposed to have been in bed that Ginny found illicit and naughty, like a child caught playing with toys or reading a book after they'd been told to go to sleep.

Ginny smiled as she remembered the amount of times her parents had found her asleep with her head resting on a sketchbook, pencil still loosely grasped in her hand, because she'd been sketching by moonlight instead of sleeping.

Not bothering with her discarded underwear, Ginny pulled on the figure-hugging maxi dress once more. Wanting to feel the evening air and hear the bustle of a city not yet ready to be silenced, she went to open the window. She stuck her head out into the night and breathed in the heady scent of London in summertime.

Suddenly something caught her eye. A man was lying in the centre of the gardens, flat on his back and staring up at the sky. Ginny too turned her eyes to heavens and glimpsed an inky black expanse filled with stars. She squinted down at the lone figure.

His hair was a shock of white, his skin greyish in the darkness. She wanted to draw him; wanted to capture his peaceful air, his open, easy posture. Delving into a box she knew contained some sketching supplies, she brought out a piece of A5 paper and a soft 5B pencil. It would be thick and smudge easily; perfect for capturing someone hidden in shadow and night.

Ginny wandered barefoot, clothed only in her dress, down to the gardens, smiling at the concierge as she passed by the desk and ignoring the old man's inquiring gaze. She wasn't intending to be out of bed too long, and she certainly wasn't planning on even alerting the man that she was there. Maybe she'd send him the finished sketch. Maybe he'd think that a little peculiar.

OOO

Draco felt more than heard the presence of someone else. Without lifting himself off the ground he casually moved his head to the right and was confronted by the sight of a ruffled and undone looking Ginevra Weasley. Her long hair looked as dark as rust in starlight, her skin stark and white and her nipples were brazenly apparent in her state of undress. She was clutching a small piece of paper and a pencil.

A look of recognition slid onto her features as she got closer. She wasn't wearing any shoes, he noticed, but she did have a delicate silver chain around her ankle.

Ginny cocked her head a little to the side, unsure whether to ruin the peace of the evening with inane conversation; silly how're you's and the dull "How's work?" seemed irrelevant and inappropriate.

They were in an incredibly public place at a very silent and unusual hour, and somehow the meeting felt raw and exposing. The air buzzed with something that neither could quite identify. To Draco's surprise the redhead swiftly covered the ground between them and lay down her head beside his, her body, however, facing the opposite way.

No one spoke. It transcended an awkward silence and became something unfamiliarly familiar and exciting.

She had only intended to sketch the man lying on the ground, however the nearer she had gotten the more drawn in she had become. Ginny had been drawn to this man's aura as he lay there in the darkness, then she had realised who he was and had been unsure of how to proceed.

He didn't seem to mind her presence, however. But his body language was not as relaxed as it had been; he was as acutely aware of her as she was of him. Ginny's body seemed to burn with attraction, Draco's proximity was making her nervous and tingly. Eventually, however, the feeling became enjoyable and she began to accept it rather than question it.

After what seemed like hours, Draco turned his head to Ginny. His nose centimetres away from her cheek, he could feel the tickle of wayward crimson hairs. She smelt of red wine and lavender.

"Do you know you're intruding on my stargazing, Miss Weasley?" There was no malice in his words, there wasn't even annoyance. His voice was deep and teasing and hushed. "I think your presence has made Cassiopeia jealous. She's gone into hiding..."

For the first time since lying down Ginny became aware that she was staring up into the night sky. A few clouds had begun to roll in, hiding some of the constellations.

"I'll apologise next time I see her," she whispered back, turning her head to face his, their noses almost touching.

She had never studied Draco Malfoy at all really, particularly not this closely. His skin was smooth and unblemished, his eyes large and almost silver in the lack of light although she suspected they would be grey in the morning. His lips were plump and the palest of pinks.

Draco was perplexed as to how this strange moment had begun and why either of them were allowing it to continue. It wasn't that he was still childish enough to hold a grudge against her or her family, but they certainly didn't know each other; their paths hadn't crossed for years.

He didn't know her at all, yet on this night he felt he knew her better than most. He had seen her naked from afar and now she lay next to him. Her eyes, which seemed so dark that it was impossible to tell where the pupils ended and her irises began, were alight with curiosity and attraction, her dusting of freckles especially prominent against her milky skin.

"Why are you here, Ginevra?"

"I wanted to sketch the man lying beneath the stars."

"So, do it."

And she did. The stars bore witness to the strangely silent incident in which both learned more about the other than they'd ever even thought to ask. When the picture was finished, Ginny smiled, thanked Draco and walked away. She fell asleep two hours before dawn with the sketch still in hand.

OOO

A/N: This was written for the D/G Forum's Fic Exchange (you should definitely check out the batch of fics written, they were amazing), and it was for Jessica (idreamofdraco).

I really, really, really enjoyed writing this. It just seemed to flow happily away all by itself.

It was speedily beta'd by the gorgeous Rowan (rowan-greenleaf).

Jessica's Prompt #3:

Basic Premise: "Everybody's got a dark side. Do you love me? Can you love mine?"

Must Haves: Lots of darkness, such as: night time setting, dim lighting, shadows, whispers. Draco and Ginny learning about each other.

No-No's: No angst. :) No nicknames like 'Mione and Weaslette (or references to weasels at all). No Harry/Ron/Hermione vs. Draco drama.

Rating Range: Any.

Bonus Points: Star gazing. Fortune telling.