Part 2: Startle
He looked through her. At the surface of her subconscious, she was extremely relieved with this fact. Her heart still pounded any time someone mentioned his name, or she walked into the room when he was there, or when she could just feel him standing somewhere close by, but for the most part, her life at The Spirit’s Lounge hadn’t been altered by his sudden appearance. Because he looked through her. He never addressed her by name, hadn’t spoken to her at all, and for all intents and purposes, she did not exist in his pristine little world. And she was relieved.
But she was also devastated. Far beneath the rational part of her brain – the part of her that kept her alive, that part which had long ago determined how to survive, even after everyone else was lost – her guiltiest daydream was being torn apart. She’d imagined, a thousand times, when the weight of her terrible loneliness became too much to bear and she couldn’t help it, what it would be like if she ever saw him again, what she would say to him, how he’d react. She’d imagined many things, but none of them had ever included this persistent invisibility. He didn’t deign to notice her – perhaps he didn’t even remember her? – and that was tearing her apart.
She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter. But, even as she wiped tables and put up the chairs at the end of a very long day with an audience composed of him and the beautiful blonde young lady Ginny had begun referring to as His Shadow, sitting at a table in the far corner, whispering to each other with the occasional giggle punctuating the air, she struggled to ignore the burning pull of that magnetic force which had originally brought them together.
Jordan had called her defiant, and in punishment for her defiance, he’d sentenced her to stay until the last customer was gone, even if she was there all night. He’d been furious with her when he discovered that she’d slapped the hand of his biggest client, an ogre-ish man named Murtagh who came in daily to eat and left, daily, with large take-away cartons. Except on the days he lingered all day, ordering Firewhisky by the bottle, becoming increasingly more lecherous as the hours ticked by. He’d crossed the line that afternoon, and as he’d reached out to touch her, she’d slapped his hand away. Murtagh had simply laughed, delighted by her spirit, but Jordan had seen the entire thing and had become furious. He demanded, on threat of sacking, that she stay until close, while also inviting Murtagh to stay as long as he liked.
And she was now attempting to clean around the intoxicated and disgusting lump as he guzzled alcohol straight from the bottle, slurring a barrage of comments in her direction as she studiously ignored him.
“They say you’re a Weasley, girl, and the hair would make that seem true, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re working in a place like this. Thought this sort of place was far above that moral code of theirs?” he snarled as she walked stiffly by. She could see Jordan watching her from the door between the dining room and the kitchen, and she knew that if she reacted, he wouldn’t hesitate to force this punishment on her again.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” she asked rigidly, barely glancing at the disgusting lump. He snorted, laughing up at her through squinted eyes.
“You know, your father didn’t die because ‘e was one of Dumbledore’s men. We didn’t even get ‘im because ‘e was a blood traitor and a Mudblood-lover,” he slurred loudly. A deathly silence fell over the empty room, and the whispered chatter in the corner stopped abruptly. She could feel two pairs of eyes on her, and vowed that she wouldn’t look up, that she wouldn’t dare make eye contact with him, not while her face was burning with suppressed rage.
“Then why did you ‘get ‘im?’” she asked quietly, defiantly mocking his slurred speech pattern. Murtagh roared with laughter.
“’E was just too damn stupid to know any better! Laugh of the Ministry, ‘e was!” he chortled. Biting her lip to keep from saying anything, relying on the year she’d spent learning that silence could mean survival to help her hold her tongue, she moved away, determined to ignore him, even as his words burned at her soul. But seeing her face flush in anger wasn’t enough for Murtagh, not that night, and he leapt out of his chair, sending the contents of his table crashing to the ground, shattering at her feet as he grabbed for her wrist.
“What do you want?” she demanded, her eyes blazing furiously even as his giant hand ground painfully against her skin. “Take your hand off of me, you filthy, drunken troll!”
“Ginny! Is that any way to speak to one of our best customers?” Jordan’s sharp voice cut across the silence. Ginny struggled against his painful grip, determined not to cry out even as she felt the bones in her wrist grind as she struggled, and she finally managed to slip her small wrist from his club-like hand, turning to face her employer. She remained silent, knowing that it was best not to say anything at all.
“I’m so sorry about this, Murtagh, don’t know why we even keep the girl around, given her breeding and all. They just don’t know how to treat their superiors properly,” Jordan said, as he fussed over Murtagh, who was still looming over Ginny threateningly, glaring at her in an almost lecherous manner through half-squinted eyes. It made her long for a hot shower.
The echo of footsteps filled the room, and she was startled to remember that he was still in the room. Draco Malfoy stepped forward, his eyes coldly assessing the situation. Ginny felt the burning tug of that undeniable force that longed to pull her towards him, and she quelled the urge, more concerned with the fact that her fate was now in his hands. She could easily be sacked, and with that, she knew her life would become a great deal more difficult. There were very few who would be willing to hire a Weasley and uncertified witch (could she help it that the school was destroyed before she could write her N.E.W.T.s?), and she needed this job.
His eyes moved slowly from the mess on the floor, to the giant drunken fool of man lumbering near her. Looking at the floor, she felt the telltale shiver when his eyes looked at her. She tried not to flinch as he spoke.
“Jordan, would you mind escorting our customer outside? I’d like to have a word with you, Murtagh,” he said, his voice ice cold. Jordan, silenced and bound to carry out the order from a member of Upper Management, led a stumbling Murtagh away without a word of protest, although Ginny knew he was just burning to berate her for a few more minutes.
A heavy silence fell over the room again as Ginny stood awkwardly, unsure what to make of the situation. Finally, she released a deep breath she hadn’t known she was holding, and walked gingerly to the center of the mess on the floor, bending down to start collecting the larger bits of broken glass, making sure to keep her eyes trained away from him. She could feel his presence in every pore of her skin, and it was so disconcerting, it was making her hands shake.
She was so absorbed in concentrating on not noticing him that it took the soft gasp from His Shadow to alert her to the fact that he'd finally moved. Cautiously moving her eyes up towards him, she froze as she realized that he was kneeling on the ground. His slate grey eyes met hers, as unreadable and serious as ever, and every nerve in her body jangled with his nearness. His hands moved towards her and she jerked backwards instinctively, unsure what he was planning to do. There was almost a hint of amusement about his mouth, a tiny hint of a smirk, as he simply reached past her hands and began collecting the shards of glass, his eyes never looking away. Ginny hovered, frozen, unsure what to do. She became even less sure when his nimble fingers reached out and plucked the large piece of broken glass she'd been holding, brushing her skin with his fingers. It was so light, it almost couldn't be considered a touch, but it was enough to startle her senses.
Then he stood up, carefully placed the broken glass on the table, and silently walked away. She heard the door open and shut, and knew that he'd gone out to speak with Murtagh as he'd said he would. She exhaled, a deep, shaky breath of relief - or disappointment, she wasn't sure which, and stood up, planning on fetching a broom to finish cleaning up the mess.
His Shadow was hovering nearby, her wide eyes startingly blue against her pale skin. She was incredibly beautiful, dressed in a strapless dress and delicate heels, and it made Ginny want to look away, for fear of perishing with longing to look that way, to be able to attract his attention, to make his eyes follow her around the room - anything to make him stop looking through her.
"He just helped you clean. He just helped you clean up broken glass," His Shadow said in her soft voice, incredulously. She took a step towards Ginny, her eyes fixed on her, as if seeing her for the first time. "He doesn't help anyone, especially not when it's their job, and he just helped you."
Ginny just shrugged in response, but a secret thrill washed over her. Perhaps she wasn't as invisible as she thought.
It was never known what Draco Malfoy said to The Spirit Lounge's "best customer" but that night was the very last time Ginny ever saw Murtagh in the restaurant.
He looked through her. At the surface of her subconscious, she was extremely relieved with this fact. Her heart still pounded any time someone mentioned his name, or she walked into the room when he was there, or when she could just feel him standing somewhere close by, but for the most part, her life at The Spirit’s Lounge hadn’t been altered by his sudden appearance. Because he looked through her. He never addressed her by name, hadn’t spoken to her at all, and for all intents and purposes, she did not exist in his pristine little world. And she was relieved.
But she was also devastated. Far beneath the rational part of her brain – the part of her that kept her alive, that part which had long ago determined how to survive, even after everyone else was lost – her guiltiest daydream was being torn apart. She’d imagined, a thousand times, when the weight of her terrible loneliness became too much to bear and she couldn’t help it, what it would be like if she ever saw him again, what she would say to him, how he’d react. She’d imagined many things, but none of them had ever included this persistent invisibility. He didn’t deign to notice her – perhaps he didn’t even remember her? – and that was tearing her apart.
She tried to tell herself that it didn’t matter. But, even as she wiped tables and put up the chairs at the end of a very long day with an audience composed of him and the beautiful blonde young lady Ginny had begun referring to as His Shadow, sitting at a table in the far corner, whispering to each other with the occasional giggle punctuating the air, she struggled to ignore the burning pull of that magnetic force which had originally brought them together.
Jordan had called her defiant, and in punishment for her defiance, he’d sentenced her to stay until the last customer was gone, even if she was there all night. He’d been furious with her when he discovered that she’d slapped the hand of his biggest client, an ogre-ish man named Murtagh who came in daily to eat and left, daily, with large take-away cartons. Except on the days he lingered all day, ordering Firewhisky by the bottle, becoming increasingly more lecherous as the hours ticked by. He’d crossed the line that afternoon, and as he’d reached out to touch her, she’d slapped his hand away. Murtagh had simply laughed, delighted by her spirit, but Jordan had seen the entire thing and had become furious. He demanded, on threat of sacking, that she stay until close, while also inviting Murtagh to stay as long as he liked.
And she was now attempting to clean around the intoxicated and disgusting lump as he guzzled alcohol straight from the bottle, slurring a barrage of comments in her direction as she studiously ignored him.
“They say you’re a Weasley, girl, and the hair would make that seem true, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re working in a place like this. Thought this sort of place was far above that moral code of theirs?” he snarled as she walked stiffly by. She could see Jordan watching her from the door between the dining room and the kitchen, and she knew that if she reacted, he wouldn’t hesitate to force this punishment on her again.
“Can I get you anything else, sir?” she asked rigidly, barely glancing at the disgusting lump. He snorted, laughing up at her through squinted eyes.
“You know, your father didn’t die because ‘e was one of Dumbledore’s men. We didn’t even get ‘im because ‘e was a blood traitor and a Mudblood-lover,” he slurred loudly. A deathly silence fell over the empty room, and the whispered chatter in the corner stopped abruptly. She could feel two pairs of eyes on her, and vowed that she wouldn’t look up, that she wouldn’t dare make eye contact with him, not while her face was burning with suppressed rage.
“Then why did you ‘get ‘im?’” she asked quietly, defiantly mocking his slurred speech pattern. Murtagh roared with laughter.
“’E was just too damn stupid to know any better! Laugh of the Ministry, ‘e was!” he chortled. Biting her lip to keep from saying anything, relying on the year she’d spent learning that silence could mean survival to help her hold her tongue, she moved away, determined to ignore him, even as his words burned at her soul. But seeing her face flush in anger wasn’t enough for Murtagh, not that night, and he leapt out of his chair, sending the contents of his table crashing to the ground, shattering at her feet as he grabbed for her wrist.
“What do you want?” she demanded, her eyes blazing furiously even as his giant hand ground painfully against her skin. “Take your hand off of me, you filthy, drunken troll!”
“Ginny! Is that any way to speak to one of our best customers?” Jordan’s sharp voice cut across the silence. Ginny struggled against his painful grip, determined not to cry out even as she felt the bones in her wrist grind as she struggled, and she finally managed to slip her small wrist from his club-like hand, turning to face her employer. She remained silent, knowing that it was best not to say anything at all.
“I’m so sorry about this, Murtagh, don’t know why we even keep the girl around, given her breeding and all. They just don’t know how to treat their superiors properly,” Jordan said, as he fussed over Murtagh, who was still looming over Ginny threateningly, glaring at her in an almost lecherous manner through half-squinted eyes. It made her long for a hot shower.
The echo of footsteps filled the room, and she was startled to remember that he was still in the room. Draco Malfoy stepped forward, his eyes coldly assessing the situation. Ginny felt the burning tug of that undeniable force that longed to pull her towards him, and she quelled the urge, more concerned with the fact that her fate was now in his hands. She could easily be sacked, and with that, she knew her life would become a great deal more difficult. There were very few who would be willing to hire a Weasley and uncertified witch (could she help it that the school was destroyed before she could write her N.E.W.T.s?), and she needed this job.
His eyes moved slowly from the mess on the floor, to the giant drunken fool of man lumbering near her. Looking at the floor, she felt the telltale shiver when his eyes looked at her. She tried not to flinch as he spoke.
“Jordan, would you mind escorting our customer outside? I’d like to have a word with you, Murtagh,” he said, his voice ice cold. Jordan, silenced and bound to carry out the order from a member of Upper Management, led a stumbling Murtagh away without a word of protest, although Ginny knew he was just burning to berate her for a few more minutes.
A heavy silence fell over the room again as Ginny stood awkwardly, unsure what to make of the situation. Finally, she released a deep breath she hadn’t known she was holding, and walked gingerly to the center of the mess on the floor, bending down to start collecting the larger bits of broken glass, making sure to keep her eyes trained away from him. She could feel his presence in every pore of her skin, and it was so disconcerting, it was making her hands shake.
She was so absorbed in concentrating on not noticing him that it took the soft gasp from His Shadow to alert her to the fact that he'd finally moved. Cautiously moving her eyes up towards him, she froze as she realized that he was kneeling on the ground. His slate grey eyes met hers, as unreadable and serious as ever, and every nerve in her body jangled with his nearness. His hands moved towards her and she jerked backwards instinctively, unsure what he was planning to do. There was almost a hint of amusement about his mouth, a tiny hint of a smirk, as he simply reached past her hands and began collecting the shards of glass, his eyes never looking away. Ginny hovered, frozen, unsure what to do. She became even less sure when his nimble fingers reached out and plucked the large piece of broken glass she'd been holding, brushing her skin with his fingers. It was so light, it almost couldn't be considered a touch, but it was enough to startle her senses.
Then he stood up, carefully placed the broken glass on the table, and silently walked away. She heard the door open and shut, and knew that he'd gone out to speak with Murtagh as he'd said he would. She exhaled, a deep, shaky breath of relief - or disappointment, she wasn't sure which, and stood up, planning on fetching a broom to finish cleaning up the mess.
His Shadow was hovering nearby, her wide eyes startingly blue against her pale skin. She was incredibly beautiful, dressed in a strapless dress and delicate heels, and it made Ginny want to look away, for fear of perishing with longing to look that way, to be able to attract his attention, to make his eyes follow her around the room - anything to make him stop looking through her.
"He just helped you clean. He just helped you clean up broken glass," His Shadow said in her soft voice, incredulously. She took a step towards Ginny, her eyes fixed on her, as if seeing her for the first time. "He doesn't help anyone, especially not when it's their job, and he just helped you."
Ginny just shrugged in response, but a secret thrill washed over her. Perhaps she wasn't as invisible as she thought.
It was never known what Draco Malfoy said to The Spirit Lounge's "best customer" but that night was the very last time Ginny ever saw Murtagh in the restaurant.
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