The Special Two

I've hardly been outside my room in days,
'Cause I don't feel that I deserve the sunshine's rays.


“Draco, please,” Ginny pleaded through her tears, grasping his arm desperately. He broke her hold easily.

“No!” Draco yelled into her face, making her cringe. “You don’t get to cry!” He thrust his arm towards her repeatedly, pointing to her accusingly, in a display of complete loss of control. “You don’t get to cry!”


The darkness helped until the whiskey wore away,
And it was then I realised that conscience never fades.


Ginny looked down at her left hand, the knuckle bruised and caked in blood, where her ring resided not twenty-four hours ago, and reached for the bottle beside her. The warm, fiery liquid scorched her throat and quenched the unbearable pain and guilt that threatened to consume her.


When you're young, you have this image of your life:
That you'll be scrupulous and one day even make a wife.


They’d had a fight. Again. It was always the same. They fought over their respective families’ opinion of the other, each deciding that only their family’s opinion mattered. She was after his money. He was after her…well ‘special gift’ as her mother had put it.

It wouldn’t last. The only thing the Weasleys and Malfoys had every agreed upon; It wouldn’t last.

She remembered incoherent shouting. Barbs specifically designed to maim thrown around with practiced ease. She had cried. He had hurled a vase at the wall. He had thrown his hands up, shook his head, and snarled. Then he was gone. She slammed the door at his back and Flooed to the nearest bar.


And you make boundaries you'd never dream to cross,
And if you happen to, you wake completely lost.


“Ginny, I love you,” Harry repeated sincerely, grasping her hands in his. Ginny looked up at him in anguish.

“Harry. Stop. Please just stop. I -” Ginny spluttered, trying unsuccessfully to pry her hands from his grip

“I-I haven’t been able to get that night out of my head,” Harry said softly, flushing.

“I barely remember that night,” she cried flustered. “I love Draco.”

“I know you care for me, Ginny--more than a friend.” Ginny shook her head, finally regaining possession of her hands. “We made love, Ginny.”

“Har-” She stopped mid-word, spinning around quickly at the sound of a door shutting. The soft, familiar bang of the door echoing through her head.

“Thought I’d surprise you,” Draco sneered coolly, holding up a plastic bag that bore the logo of what Ginny recognised to be her favourite Chinese take away. “Since you had to work late.”


But I will fight for you,
Be sure that I will fight until we're the special two, once again.


“It didn’t mean anything. I swear,” Ginny pleaded, grasping onto Draco’s arm in an attempt to stop him from leaving her apartment. “Please, I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do what ever you want!”

“Make it up to me?” he spat incredulously. “Make it up to me? How? While I was buying you an engagement ring, you were off fucking Potter’s brains out!”


And we will only need each other, we'll bleed together,
Our hands will not be taught to hold another's,
when we're the special two.
And we could only see each other, we'll bleed together,
These arms will not be taught to need another,
When we're the special two


Ginny giggled as Draco ran his hands up her sides, the light touches causing goose bumps to rise across her flesh.

“Ticklish, Weasley?” he murmured, placing a quick kiss on her nose.

“No,” she denied quickly, squirming away from his hands. Draco raised an eyebrow in response, his face sceptical. “Well,” she amended, moving swiftly to straddle Draco’s thighs, “not when compared to you.”

Ginny let her fingers run over Draco’s abdomen, feeling the lightly defined muscles quivering under her touch. She felt his deep laugh reverberate through her body as his hands reached for hers in a clumsy attempt to stave of her attack. He flipped Ginny onto her back, eliciting a high-pitched squeal from Ginny, and capturing her wrists above her head, ran his free hand up the inside of her thigh.


I remember someone old once said to me:
"That lie will lock you up, with truth the only key."


“Where were you that night?” Draco asked, playing with the ring he had placed on her finger as they lay amongst the tangled sheets. “I came back and you weren’t here.”

“I, um, went to a bar,” Ginny replied, nuzzling Draco’s neck in an effort to avoid his eyes. “Got smashed,” she whispered.

“That really is a bad habit, Gin,” Draco laughed, wrapping his arms around her waist. “You’ll do something you regret.”


But I was comfortable and warm inside my shell,
And couldn't see this place would soon become my hell.


Ginny stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes as Draco ranted behind her. “And Potter,” he cried. Ginny froze. “Thinking he’s all that and a bar of soap. He only defeated one dark wizard. Took him bloody long enough too,” he scoffed. Ginny shook her head, rolling her eyes. She could feel him scowl at her.

“Smug bastard,” he muttered. “Now the ponce thinks he has a chance of getting you back.” Ginny gasped, the wine glass she was cleaning fell from her hands, shattering on the kitchen floor. The suds that lingered on the glass crackled softly as Ginny jumped back quickly, her bare feet barely escaping the sharp edges.

“You right, Gin?’ Draco asked, coming to stand beside her, his hand resting at the small of her back.

“What? Oh yes, I’m fine.” She smiled up at him, the smile falling short of her eyes. He studied her curiously, his head tilted. “Slippery,” she added, holding up her wet hands. Ginny breathed a silent sigh of relief as he moved away from her, apparently satisfied with her explanation.

Draco waved his wand over the glass, the broken pieces melding back together. He studied the reformed glass in his hand, admiring his handiwork. Draco placed it on the counter as he spoke, “I don’t see why you always have to wash the dishes the Muggle way. It just takes longer and makes your hands wrinkle horribly,” he said with distaste.

“Habit,” she said to his back, desperately hoping her tone was light.


So is it better to tell and hurt or lie to save your face?
Well I guess the answer is don't do it in the first place.


“What did Potter want with you today?” Draco asked. Ginny turned to see him leaning casually against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest.

“I didn’t hear you come in,” Ginny said, throwing her cardigan on the bed, her wet hair dripping down her back. “Did you just get here?”

“No,” he said flatly. “I heard the shower. Figured I’d wait.” Ginny smiled tightly, her stomach dropping. He never simply waited for her to finish her shower. She took a deep breath. She couldn’t do this anymore. Her throat constricted every time she heard his name, her stomach feeling as if she’d just taken ten consecutive Portkeys.

“What did Potter want?” Draco repeated, eyebrows raised questioningly.

“He was- Hermione’s birthday,” she lied, her nerve swallowed by the fear of losing him. “He’s still clueless about what to get her. Can’t even pick out a book for her on his own.”


I know I'm not deserving of your trust from you right now,
But if by chance you change your mind,
You know I will not let you down
'Cause we were the special two and will be again.


“What are you doing here?” he sneered acidly.

“I just wanted to talk, please.” She hated how pitiful she sounded as she begged for five minutes of his time. He laughed darkly at her, his eyes cold.

“What could we possibly have to talk about?”

“I just want to explain,” she pleaded.

“No need,” he assured her. “I understand perfectly well. We had a fight, you got drunk, and then you fucked Potter, just once more for old times sake.”

“It will never happen again. I-”

“You mean not until the next time you get plastered and whore yourself out?” he spat, slamming the door in her face. She stared at his closed door for what seemed like an eternity, before she turned and walked down the stairs, vowing to return the next day.


And we will only need each other, we'll breathe together,
Our hands will not be taught to hold another's,
When we're the special two.
And we can only see each other, we'll bleed together,
These arms will not be taught to need another... when we're the special two


She watched as he flirted with her. Her with her long legs and perfect body. Her with her long blonde hair and expensive robes. She felt a tear roll warmly down her cheek as he ran his finger down her arm, her light laughter piercing through her. She choked back the sob that threatened to break out of her. The small sound was loud enough to alert him to her presence, his head snapped up and he looked directly at her.

He was the first to break eye contact, following the progress of a tear as it made its way down her face. She wiped her cheek hurriedly breaking him from his trance. He sneered at her and returned his attentions to the blonde beauty before him.


I step outside my mind's eyes for a minute.
And I look over me like a doctor looking for disease,
Or something that could ease the pain.
But nothing cures the hurt you, you bring on by yourself,
Just remembering, just remembering how we were...


Ginny lay on her bathroom floor in anticipation of the nausea she was sure would hit. She stared across at the sink, where Draco’s watch still sat from the last time he had joined her in the shower. He’d forgotten it in the rush to get to one of his mother’s parties that he forced her to attend.

Through her alcohol induced stupor, she remembered the way he had introduced her and scowled at the men who, despite the early hour, were already well on their way to being inebriated, and spoke to her cleavage, rather than her or Draco. She remembered how possessive he was and the glare he sent her when she danced with Blaise Zabini.

He had wound his arm around her waist later, as they listened to the host’s speech, thanking them for their attendance for this fine cause, and whispered into her ear. She flushed at his suggestions, swatting at his arm playfully.

“Your mother would kill me if we did…that!” she hissed, as he dragged her through the crowd and into an empty room.

“Then you’ll die an extremely happy woman,” he said huskily, leaning down to capture her lips.


When we would only need each other, we'd breathe together,
Our hands would not be taught to hold another's,
We were the special two.
And we could only see each other we'd bleed together,
These arms will not be taught to need another...


Her hair barely contained in a messy bun and eyelids drooping, she opened the door tiredly. Her head pounded, every little sound reverberating painfully around her skull.

Ginny stared at Draco, unsure as to the purpose of his 3:00am visit. He stepped into her apartment slowly, commanding the space. Ginny stepped back obligingly, enabling him to shut the door behind him.

She stood there, arms wrapped around herself, in the most comfortable, yet shabbiest pair of flannel pyjamas she owned. She had a drawer full of beautiful pyjamas and negligees to choose from, thanks to Draco, but always returned to her old, worn cotton pyjamas.

Draco’s piercing, unwavering gaze made her uncomfortable, and she began to worry her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes nervously met his as he raised his arm to run his thumb across her bottom lip, forcing her to cease the motions that threatened to split her lip.

“This doesn't mean I forgive you,” he said gruffly, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him.


'Cause we're the special two…