In My Life

Chapter 5

Ginny sat quietly through lunch, pretending to listen to Fanny Marshall’s enthusiastic retelling of the morning’s trip to a Muggle shopping center. Instead, she contemplated the conversation she had had with Draco.

Ginny and Draco had developed something of a friendship over the past two weeks, competing for the choice chair and conversing easily, but it had always been somewhat superficial. Over the course of one morning, however, Ginny felt as if they had truly become friends in a way they hadn’t been before. It was strange that it had happened so quickly, especially considering how many insults—not to mention hexes—they had exchanged at Hogwarts. But Ginny’s urge to aim Tripping Jinxes at anyone, even Draco Malfoy, had faded long ago.

Ginny had to admit that she had been curious about Draco from the beginning. Ever since her first morning at Notting Park, she had felt drawn to his company. Day after day, she found herself in the drawing room, waiting for him to appear, rather than participating in the activities with the others. Now that she felt even closer to Draco, Ginny knew it would be even harder for her to keep away.

Ginny’s train of thought was interrupted when the lunch plates disappeared with a pop. She set her napkin on the table and prepared to leave. Susan had mentioned earlier that she would be repotting some Bouncing Bulbs in the greenhouse that afternoon, and Ginny thought she might help. It had been a long time since she had gotten her hands dirty. As she stood, she felt Draco’s hand on her arm.

“If you don’t have plans for the afternoon, there’s something I’d like to show you,” he said.

Ginny was intrigued. They had never spent an afternoon together. Draco always disappeared after lunch, and she usually spent the time with Susan, or even occasionally talking about Quidditch with Jimmy Peakes. Did Draco feel the same way as she did about their conversation that morning? Surely Susan would be fine without Ginny’s questionable potting skills. “It wasn’t anything important,” she answered. “What did you want me to see?”

Draco left the dining room, Ginny walking slowly beside him. She was bursting with curiosity and trying very hard to be patient. Knowing Draco, he would probably delay showing her whatever it was if she let her curiosity show, just to torment her.

When Draco stopped at the door to the music room, Ginny suddenly remembered the cryptic warning one of the other residents had given her when she had first arrived at Notting Park. “Whatever you do, keep away from the music room in the afternoons,” she had said with a dramatic shudder. “The music you hear might draw you towards it, but it isn’t worth actually going in.”

Draco closed the door behind him, then turned to Ginny with the most serious look she had had ever seen on his face. “Do you promise not to tell anyone else I allowed you in here today?” Ginny nodded.

“Good,” Draco said, in a satisfied voice. “I’ve worked very hard to keep the rest of them out, and I would hate to think one day of weakness could ruin the reputation I’ve built over the years.”

“I won’t breathe a word of it,” Ginny said, laughing as her mind conjured a picture of a livid Draco, scaring the little old ladies away with a gaze like a Basilisk’s. “But even if I did,” she continued, “who would ever believe me? If the hints I’ve heard are anything to go on, you can be quite fearsome. Why, I believe you even have Mr. Campbell terrified.”

“Ah, yes,” Draco said with a smirk. “He came in here with a prospective new resident once about three years ago, and I managed quite a show. The poor biddy never did move in, and Campbell has been a bit twitchy around me ever since.”

Draco and Ginny smiled at each other for a moment before Draco motioned that Ginny should sit in one of the armchairs, and moved toward the piano. He didn’t start playing right away, but sat staring at his hands as they rested lightly on the keys. After watching him for a while, Ginny noticed his stiff posture and shallow breathing, and she realized that he must be nervous. To lighten the mood, she said, “You don’t have to play anything. After all, it wasn’t my idea that you humiliate yourself like this.”

Draco’s head jerked up. He looked at Ginny angrily, relaxing only when he saw the grin on her face. “You think I’m going to humiliate myself, do you?” he asked.

“Of course!” Ginny answered, her voice teasing. “Why else would you never let other people hear you play?”

“That’s not entirely true. My mother and Yvette used to listen to me all the time, and Scorpius and Lyra still do sometimes. I’m just very particular about my audience.”

“Oh really?” Ginny asked. “Well, my mind is made up. I’m afraid the only way to convince me otherwise will be to actually do it.”

“Then I suppose I have no choice,” Draco answered, turning back to the keys and beginning to play.

Ginny immediately knew that her taunting comments had been extremely far from the mark. Draco’s playing was sublime. Although she had never learned to play an instrument, and knew nothing at all about musical theory, she could tell that he had achieved technical perfection. But even more impressively, he played with an intensity that drew her in completely. She could feel his every reaction to the music—although she couldn’t parse his emotions, she could sense them radiating from his body. By the end of the piece, her face was streaked with tears.

Ginny sat perfectly still, staring at Draco. He was staring down at his hands again, his shoulders slumped slightly. He slowly turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers uncertainly. “That was… I don’t even know how to say how wonderful that was,” she said with a shaky smile.

“I didn’t humiliate myself?” Draco asked quietly.

“No, not at all,” Ginny answered, wiping her tears away with the back of her hand. “You have a hidden talent, it seems.”

“Do you blame me for trying to keep it hidden?”

“It’s too personal to share openly, I think,” Ginny offered tentatively. Draco nodded.

Ginny couldn’t help but wonder why Draco would share his music with her. She wouldn’t ask—not yet, at least. She wasn’t ready to hear his answer, even if he was willing to tell her.

Draco began to play again, and Ginny’s train of thought was lost once more in the music.

When the clock struck four, Draco finally stepped away from the piano. Addie brought a tray to the music room, and Ginny poured the tea, while Draco cut two generous pieces of cake. They were silent for several minutes before Ginny asked, “When did you learn to play?”

“When I was four. My parents saw it as a necessary part of a classical education, along with lessons in Latin, French, fencing, art, and philosophy, in addition to the usual subjects, of course. I learned the mechanics of it fairly quickly, but I didn’t really learn to play—to play the way I just did, that is—until the summer after my fifth year at Hogwarts.” He paused, and Ginny waited, sipping her tea quietly. “That’s when everything started to fall apart. My father was in Azkaban, and I was expected to step into his place in every sense. Playing the piano was the only way I could release the pressure. Some days, I would play eight hours or more.”

Ginny fought tears for the second time that afternoon. She knew what it felt like to be manipulated into Voldemort’s service, but it had merely been a memory of his sixteen-year-old self that had manipulated her. She could only imagine what it must have been like to face the full force of Voldemort at his most powerful. She realized she had never thought about what the Slytherins had endured during the war. It explained why those who had survived had fought so hard to prevent the rise of another Dark Lord afterwards.

Ginny shook herself from her thoughts. “For me, it was Quidditch,” she said. “I’d take my broom out—or one of my brothers’ before I had one of my own—and fly as recklessly as I possibly could. I did it for years, actually, even after the war, especially when one of the children was sick, or when Harry was being particularly bone-headed about something—so fairly often. I only stopped when I realized that I wouldn’t recover quickly anymore if I happened to fall.”

Draco smiled. “I can picture it perfectly—you flying on an old Cleansweep, with its twigs pointing every which way, all that white hair of yours whipping in the wind—all you would need would be a few warts and you would make a Muggle’s perfect portrait of a witch!”

Laughing, Ginny tossed a bit of scone at Draco. “I’m afraid you’re more right than I would like to admit. Ah well, your method of relieving stress might be much more dignified, but I didn’t have the advantages of a classical education, so I had to make do with what I did have.”

They conversed happily for a while until Ginny yawned widely. The day, with all of its revelations, had taken its toll. She excused herself to take a nap before dinner.

***

As Ginny left the music room, Draco sighed. Only that morning, he had been content to leave his feelings about Ginny unexamined, but something in him had shifted. When she held his hand, he didn’t ever want to let go, and he knew he was lost. By the time lunch was over, he would have done anything to keep her with him a little longer, and it had led him to do something he thought he would never willingly do for anyone outside his immediate family.

When Draco played the piano, he laid himself bare for anyone who cared to look, and who knew how to read him. Because of this, he had always been extremely careful about who he played for. He was somewhat astonished that he had let Ginny in, especially after so short an acquaintance. Why did he trust her? He had no idea, really, except he knew he did—that even if he hadn’t played for her today, he would have eventually. It was only a matter of time and acceptance on his part.

Draco suspected that Ginny had only had an inkling of what exactly he had shown her this afternoon. She seemed to understand that his emotions came through the music, but not how to read them. He was certain, at least, that she hadn’t understood the thought that was foremost in his mind as he played—that he was well on his way to falling in love for the first time in his very long life. Now that he had accepted it himself, however, he would have to make her understand—and he would begin tonight.

Summoning his cane, Draco set out for his suite, laying his plans as he walked.

***

Just before she was about to leave her suite to go down to dinner, Ginny was surprised by a knock on her door. This was a very rare event. The residents of Notting Park treated each other’s suites as private retreats, never to be invaded without a proper invitation. She and Susan had exchanged visits, but no one else had knocked on her door—not even nosy Fanny Marshall. Ginny opened the door to find Draco in his crispest dress robes, leaning casually on his cane.

“Draco!” Ginny said with surprise.

“Good evening,” he responded. “I thought I might escort you to dinner.”

Confused and slightly flustered, Ginny said, “Oh! Why… Yes… I mean, that would be lovely. I was just about to go down.”

Draco offered her his free arm, and they walked toward the dining room. Ginny responded absently to Draco’s small talk while trying to process the changes in his behavior. Clearly, the day’s events had had an effect on him, as much as they had on her. This was comforting. She’d be happy to spend more time with him, now that they had truly become friends. But there was something about the attentive way Draco pulled out her chair for her when they reached the dining room, and helped her into it, that made her wonder if maybe he had other intentions entirely. She shook off these disconcerting thoughts, and turned to greet Jimmy Peakes, who had just stepped into the room.

Someone had sent Fanny Marshall a magical version of the Muggle children’s game Chutes and Ladders, which allowed the players to feel the physical effects of climbing, and most importantly, of sliding down the chutes. After dinner, all of the Muggle-born residents congregated in one corner of the drawing room to play the game and to reminisce about their childhoods. Ginny wasn’t interested, having never played the original game as a child, so she took her usual chair near the fire and summoned her knitting. Susan Bones took up their usual place at the chess table, but Draco followed Ginny to the fire instead.

“No chess tonight, Draco?” Susan asked.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m up to it tonight,” he said, speaking to Susan but looking at Ginny. “Do you mind?”

Susan gave Draco a sharp look, then a small smile. “No, I don’t think I mind at all,” she answered, before drifting off to watch the Chutes and Ladders game.

Draco sat down beside Ginny. He was quiet for quite a while. Ginny didn’t break the silence. Why had he changed his usual routine tonight? She tried to focus on her knitting, but kept shooting glances at him. His presence was extremely distracting.

After a while, a Weird Sisters song began to play on the Wireless. Draco cocked his head slightly, then said, “They played this song at the Yule Ball.”

“Yes, I remember,” Ginny said with a wistful smile. “I felt so sophisticated dancing to it, even though Neville stepped on my feet at least five times during the course of the song.”

“Would you care to dance now?” Draco asked, rising to his feet.

“All right,” Ginny said happily.

They didn’t dance so much as sway in place to the music—Draco’s bad knee wouldn’t allow him to move much without his cane, and he seemed reluctant to lean too heavily on Ginny.

Closing her eyes, Ginny could almost picture Hogwarts’ Great Hall, done up in its Yuletide finest, decorated with frost, mistletoe, and ivy. She and Draco never would have danced together at the Yule Ball—they never even would have considered such a thing. Wondering if Draco was thinking the same thing, she opened her eyes. She nearly stopped moving at what she saw.

Draco was watching her so intently that Ginny was surprised she hadn’t felt his gaze. Their eyes locked, and she felt a jolt of excitement. Draco’s eyes were swirling with emotions she couldn’t quite place, but which made her heart speed. She couldn’t look away. When he started tracing small circles on her back with his fingertips, and her breath caught in response, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.

When the song ended, Draco stopped moving. Ginny came back to her senses a little. Could Draco feel more than friendship for her? Did she want him to? The thought filled her with both hope and fear. Slightly panicked, she tore her eyes away from Draco’s and extricated herself from his arms. “Thank you for the dance,” she said distractedly, “but I think I had better go to bed now.”

Ginny thought she heard Draco whisper, “Good night,” as she fled the room.