Proximity Shadows

"I thought the most beautiful thing in the world must be shadow..."

Sylvia Plath

Ginny lay in her large bathtub with her eyes closed, savouring the feeling of being immersed in the warm, scented water. Today had felt incredibly long; she was (barely) functioning on two hours of sleep, her head felt thick with champagne from the night before, and she had been in meetings all day. Her limbs felt heavy and achy, but gloriously - deliciously - so.

Every time she had thought about a certain blond, and his exploration of her body, her face had broken into a secret smile that caused mischief to twinkle in her eyes. Thoughts of Draco standing above her - touching her, tasting her - conjured a kind of special warmth in the pit of her stomach that not even her hangover could diminish.

He'd been in the periphery of her life for nearly eighteen years, but this week he'd stepped out from the shadows and she'd begun to want to know him. Two evenings was all it had taken to have her hooked on him. She felt as though within him she had discovered a kindred spirit; one who was a little broken, a little misunderstood. He was someone who was ultimately free and unhindered by the opinions of others. He possessed a confidence, a self awareness, that she had found in few individuals. It was entrancing.

Their nighttime meetings in the darkness and half light had felt illicit and charged with attraction, lust and intrigue. She had tried to explain to Zach and Hermione over lunch that afternoon, but hadn't been able to speak the words she wanted to say; their encounters hadn't been reliant on conversation, but on feeling. On the silent exploration of one another. Thus, it seemed, a verbal explanation of Ginny and Draco could not capture the odd moments of intimacy that had passed between the two of them.

As someone who often observed the world in order to be able to capture it on canvas, Ginny was a self-proclaimed expert in learning about people, situations and places without the need for a spoken language.

Usually if she had gone home with a man, she'd have felt a whirligig of negative emotions; fear of rejection, shame, and the odd sensation that she had over-exposed herself. She'd always recover, however, having learnt to be the kind of person who didn't dwell on regrets and past events. Ginny had learned long ago that without the use of a time turner, she couldn't change the past.

Normally she'd have accepted Zach's offer to spend the evening on his sofa eating pizza and over-analysing the situation, however today she felt up for none of that. She was tired and a little testy but ultimately she felt oddly complete. Excited and sated.

Ginny, much to the distaste of her brothers, had always been of the opinion that sex wasn't anything overtly sacred, but even she knew it rarely felt as it had last night. It was as though a connection existed that was deeper than their short acquaintance should allow. She felt as if she'd discovered something big this past week, it was as though she was standing on the precipice of something that could fundamentally change her forever. Not that she was planning beyond the end of the week, but since that first evening, and in the shadows of this morning, Ginny had known she'd never experienced anything remotely like this before. It was terrifying and vast and primal. It was like being taken over by one's base instincts; all she wanted to do was act upon her urges and whims.

As an artist who was renowned for painting emotional pieces any experience was a welcome one, even if it was a brief and transient. Deep in the back of her mind, she hoped Draco wasn't temporary. Ginny thrived on emotion and she'd already become addicted to the way he made her feel.

She had been about to run more hot water in an attempt to reheat the bath a little, but in the same moment that her hand touched the tap, the light overhead flickered and the room went black. A little wave of panic shot through her. Whenever magical lights or enchanted candles dimmed it generally meant something untoward was occurring.

A moment later, however, relief flooded through her as Ginny remembered that a few months ago her Muggle Studies tutor had warned them of the perils of living in non-magical homes which ran on electricity. This, she supposed, was a power cut.

"Perfect." The redhead groused as she pulled herself heavily out of the water.

Careful to step onto the mat, she blindly groped for her towel. For a moment she considered finding her wand and illuminating everything with a decent Lumos Charm, but then it occurred to her that if her flat was seen by a neighbour to have fully functioning lighting she may cause more of a stir than she was meant to. Furthermore, the thought of Hermione's lecture when she found out that Ginny couldn't even cope with a simple power cut without magic was enough to make her pull on her bath robe, tighten the sash and go in search of some candles. Besides, she reasoned, candlelight might be slightly less aggressive with her pounding headache. She hadn't had the will or time to brew, or even buy, a hangover remedy that day.

Navigating the flat in the dark wasn't as difficult as Ginny had initially thought, and she thanked Merlin that she'd packed the majority of her boxes away throughout the week. The thought of trying to find anything in the nest of cardboard and possessions that had been in the living room on Monday morning was, if possible, enough to make her head hurt even more. Locating a bag of tea lights in the cupboard under the sink, she cheated a little by igniting them with the tip of her wand (a part of the anecdote she'd accidentally forget when telling her pro-Muggle-living friends), and the open plan kitchen and living room was soon flooded with dim, flickering lights.

OOO

Draco had been sitting in the darkness for the past hour. Being one of the richest - and most intimidating - residents, the building manager had visited him within ten minutes of the electricity dying. He had tried to explain to Draco about cut power lines and cables under the ground and ensured him that by tomorrow morning everything would be returned to normal. Draco had stared at him, looking confused, unimpressed and lacking in any kind of patience until the blustering man finally excused himself and scurried away.

This was the first time he regretted living in a Muggle built property, and he was seriously considering going to spend the evening at the manor with his parents. However, the thought of explaining his presence in the family home to his father, who would roll his eyes and mock his son for trying to live in a place that meant he was intergrated with Muggles, was reason enough to keep Draco firmly planted on his own black leather sofa.

Lucius Malfoy, mercurial as always, had adapted to the changes happening in Wizarding society. Publicly, anyway. Privately he made his snobbery and prejudice to his family and friends painfully apparent. Draco had long ago learnt that he did not need to share the views of his parents, and that he could smile and nod at his father, who no longer had the bite he once had anyway.

A small knock at the door pushed thoughts of his parents out of Draco's mind. Wondering who would possibly be visiting him on a Saturday night at his home, the blond blindly made his way to the front door, tripping on his briefcase as he did so.

"Fuck! Ouch!"

On the other side of the door stood Ginny, who couldn't help but smirk at the expletives emitting from Draco's flat. Her hair was still damp and beginning to curl, and she was clothed in an over-sized blue shirt and leggings. In one hand she held a burning candle, and in the other was a canvas bag.

It had occurred to her, as she sat in her shadowy flat, that perhaps Draco was sitting not too far away, alone and in the dark too. Maybe he was also contemplating going to a friend's house, or finding a restaurant or bar to spend the evening in. And maybe, like her, he'd come to the conclusion that he didn't really want to be around lots of strangers in public, surrounded by inane chatter and bustle.

She hadn't even been sure he'd be awake or home at all. It had simply been an impulse and Ginny, being a Weasley and a little reckless, had never been one to ignore her impulses. As she'd walked through dark corridors and up flights of stairs with only her candle and the eerie green glow of fire exit signs to light the way, her nerves and insecurities had started to play havoc in her mind. What if she was being foolish in seeking out Draco's company? He was known for being a workaholic and a bit of a recluse. It was said that was why he'd chosen to live amongst the Muggles; he wanted a break from the infamy of the Wizarding world. And here she was, a strange, red haired, freckled intrusion into his evening, arriving uninvited and possibly unwanted at his door.

Despite having been so intimate with Draco only hours before, butterflies filled her stomach; he was beautiful and isolated and confusing. She had no idea why he had accepted her presence in his life this week, or even why she wanted to be a part of his. However, it was the thought of him approaching her across that crowded dance floor the night before, of his hands exploring the contours of her body, and his request she come home with him which gave her the confidence to knock at his door. He could turn her away or he could ignore her, but Ginny decided long ago that she couldn't allow herself to have regrets. The smile that lit up the tall blond's face as he opened the door, and saw the petite redhead illuminated by candlelight, was enough to confirm to Ginny that she wouldn't regret acting on this particular impulse.

"Come to see if I was afraid of the dark, Weasley?"

"Well, I wouldn't want you to suffer alone."

Amusement etched all over his features, he stepped aside to allow her access to his apartment. He had no light, magical or otherwise, she noted as she placed her own candle on the table in front of the sofa.

"I bought you some candles." Her husky whisper carried across the otherwise silent space.

Looking down at his feet, Draco inhaled deeply and shut the front door before turning around to lean against it. He was watching the redhead invade his space the way she had invaded his thoughts and his life. He had no idea why he was so willing to accept her; he didn't have any friends really, didn't seek the company of others. He was social when he needed to be, but mostly Draco spent his time working to fix the Malfoy reputation and build up his empire. He liked exploring the world and the intricacies of life but didn't mind doing it alone. Blaise, Pansy and Theo were the only people outside of his family that he generally found pleasure in spending time with. He didn't really date, had never had a serious relationship and never sought to turn business colleagues into friends. Occasionally a witch would catch his eye but never for long.

Draco swallowed. He felt nervous around this redhead. This little artist with her little quirks and big personality. With her creamy skin that looked almost blue in the moonlight, and smatterings of freckles.

"What's in the bag?"

Draco gestured towards the big white bag she had dumped on his sofa.

Looking up from the candle she was lighting, the bright yellow-orange flame starkly illuminating her face, she replied, "Dinner. I wanted to invite you to a carpet picnic. On your carpet."

"I see."

She looked so beautiful, with the candlelight creating shadows around her impossibly big eyes. There was a brief silence.

"I don't have a carpet, you see, and mahogany isn't as comfortable...I can leave though, if you'd like?" Panic flooded through her voice; fear that she'd massively over-stepped the proverbial mark ringing through her final words.

"No, please don't..." Draco hadn't meant to make her feel uncomfortable. He was simply trying to process, to understand, what was happening and how it had happened. He wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable with how at ease Ginny seemed to be in his life, but the thought of upsetting her, of letting her leave, filled him with dread. "I would love to have a carpet picnic with you, Miss Weasley. I'll get us some plates, shall I?"

Shaking his head Draco strode into the kitchen. Ginevra Weasley really must was the most peculiar witch he'd ever encountered.

When he'd returned to the living room he found she had moved the coffee table aside, and on the carpet was a spread which included a pot of olives, sliced chorizo, cherry tomatoes, a baguette, pickled red peppers and goats cheese. Right on cue his stomach grumbled and Ginny giggled.

"Appears I arrived just in time, Mister Malfoy." Her cheeky grin was infectious.

"Would you like a drink? Wine?"

Ginny grimaced. The thought of yet more alcohol made her stomach churn in protest. "Maybe just some water?"

"Certainly, Madame. Feeling a little delicate today are we?" Draco's voice was teasing, but he returned a few seconds later with two large glasses of iced water and sat on the floor besides Ginny, his back propped up against the sofa.

"Well, I'm nearly feeling human again. Champagne always seems like such a good idea at the time."

"Well, a little champagne is. Ten bottles, however..."

He was laughing at her; she had never thought of Draco Malfoy being the type to tease. In fairness, before this week, she never thought of Draco Malfoy at all.

"How long were you watching us for?"

"Oh, long enough, Weasley." He winked and popped an olive in his mouth. A silence descended as both ate a little food.

"You don't mind me being here do you?"

He shook his head. "Not at all. I mean, I'm not sure why I don't mind you being here but...no, I don't mind."

Both ate their fill and the conversation flowed easily. Discussions ran from topic to topic with no pressure or tension. Light, accidental touches as each reached around the other for food made Ginny's skin tingle. She was thankful for such low lighting as her cheeks were rosy pink and warm. The blond man beside her made her stomach fill with nervous energy.

Draco thought she may be the most wonderful creature he'd ever seen. No one ever fascinated him and he simply didn't have time to notice people anymore. He had been a bully in his youth, he had been popular and cruel. But he had been through a devastating experience - like most people during the war - and now he was someone who didn't like being around people all that much at all. He found them tiring and draining. Found small talk and polite conversation boring.

He had watched the Dark Lord reduce people to quivering wrecks, had seen his home taken over, his parents tortured. He had been a child that had been forced to make adult decisions, and he had chosen all the wrong ones. He was ashamed of his past but he did take ownership for it; admitted to his errors and tried to atone for his past behaviour. As such he found he shied away from anyone who would judge him for those mistakes he'd made and he feared that most people would judge him for his darker side.

Draco had retreated into Malfoy Inc. and, until now, had seen no reason to come out of hiding.

He listened to Ginny talk about her art; about the year of art school she put herself through before realising it wasn't for her. She had decided that if she wanted to be a painter she simply had to paint. She spoke about her brothers, about missing Fred, about falling out of love with Potter, about travelling around Europe, about learning to cook Indian food in a village outside of Dehli. She, in turn, discovered Draco's love of Muggle literature, his passion for his business, his love for his three close friends, and his fears of failure and loneliness. He was happy to be alone, but feared reverting back to his sixth-year-self at Hogwarts; to feel that lonely and trapped again was his greatest phobia.

They had been conversing for hours when the last candle burnt itself out. The flat settled into darkness once more and silence suddenly filled the space between them. Silence that was charged and honest.

The lack of light made him bold.

"Ginny. I don't know what's happening between us, but I have to let you know I'm not an easy man to be close to. I struggle with relationships with anyone. I'm not some cold bastard like most would like to think I am, but I'm not a hero, I don't like the limelight or attention. I'm not as open as I wish I could be."

"Draco," she said softly, "everyone involved in the war has a dark side. We all have a past that we aren't proud of. Whether we were fighting for right or wrong, we all committed sins. We can't let that dictate everything we become. We just have to embrace it; embrace our faults and scars, and try to live."

"I'm glad I've met you, Ginevra Weasley."

She laughed and reached out a hand, blindly tracing the lines of his face. Her feathery touches travelled over his eyelids, down his nose and along his stubbly jawline. Her hand travelled down his neck and sternum and finished on his heart. His breath hitched. She could feel his heartbeat; steady and strong.

Ginny felt as though she could almost hear the pounding of Draco's heart: He was alive. He was surviving like everyone else in their generation.

"You know what, Draco, I don't believe anyone really knows you at all. Well, perhaps your family and friends do but...the outside world. The rest of us. I don't think you've ever shown who you really are, but I'm glad you're letting me see you now."

In the darkness, in hushed voices, they told each of the war they'd experienced and of the pain and guilt they still carried. The hope, the hurt, the fight. The nightmares that still occasionally woke them from their slumbers.

Ginny told him about Tom Riddle possessing her and the lasting fear that she'd forever be a possible conduit for darkness. Draco revealed everything about trying to kill Dumbledore, and how disgusting he had felt when - even in the old wizard's last moments - he had tried to save Draco's soul from being ripped in two.

There was a silent promise passing between them that seemed to say they'd try; they'd try and see where this path together could go. They would try to love the darkness and the light in one another.

OOO

Draco awoke swathed in a tangle of Ginny Weasley's limbs and red hair. Sunlight shone brightly into the flat and, for the first time that week, he saw her properly. There were no flickering shadows, muted moonlight or strobe lighting to hide behind just lots of bright dawn sunshine beaming in through his windows. Her hair was a shock of vibrant crimson, her skin a good deal paler than he had thought, and her face was beautiful and serene. She was breathing deeply, utterly unaware of his perusal of her.

So far she had been like a nymph in the night, a creature of half-light and shadows. Something ethereal and transient. Each of their previous meetings had felt like a dream, like a bizarre trick of the light. But now she was real; she was lying here and consuming every part of him even as she slept. Her scent was invading his nostrils. He ran his free hand along her arm and wondered when it was they'd fallen asleep.

Draco couldn't remember ever talking so much. Maybe it had been the darkness or maybe it had been the hushed voices, he didn't know, but something about Ginny Weasley last night had made him want to confess and discuss everything. She didn't judge him, or berate him. He felt safe exposing himself to her.

This enchanting, provocative woman had agreed to try and make something between them work, and Draco was determined to keep her with him for as long as possible. He was essentially a selfish creature and Ginny complimented him perfectly; she made him feel happy, buoyant and unafraid.

He brushed his lips to the top of her head and smiled to himself as he settled back down to sleep some more. A strange calm roamed around the flat; there was a kind of serenity he didn't think he'd ever feel washing over him and cleansing him.

As Draco's breathing became deep and even once more, Ginny opened her eyes and intrinsically knew that this was the start of something of glorious.

A/N: There we go. All done.

I may be tempted to write more of this Ginny and Draco in a companion piece at some point as I quite liked their characterisation here and do want to explore it further but...we'll see! Thanks for reading.

Tash.