A/N: Thanks for their beta services this installment to Thalia and Scarlett - and a special nod to Mynuet, who gave me a priceless line between the Weasel Girl and the Ferret Boy. Loff to all three of you!
~*~
"Ginny Molly Weasley, what do you think you're doing?!"
The subject of that exclamation covered her face with her hands. "Dying of embarrassment at my brother's treatment of me," she said slowly and clearly. "And Merlin and Morgana as my witness, if you .. EVER .. use my middle name in public again, I'll string your entrails from Astronomy Tower."
Ron turned his indignance elsewhere. "What are you on about, Malfoy?" Ginny was startled that Ron had turned on bloody Malfoy when Blaise should have been the villain of the piece, until she turned around and saw the glee on the Head Boy's face. His amusement was infectious, and she felt the corner of her mouth quirk upward as the Ferret confronted her rapidly-reddening brother.
"King Weasel, I'd rather think you'd be spouting inanities at the person actually dating your sister, instead of an innocent bystander," he drawled.
"You are NEVER an innocent bystander, Ferret!" Ron replied hotly. "And my sister does not date Slytherins!"
"I beg to differ," Blaise commented. The tone of his voice was calm, but Ginny heard the irritation. He looked at the Gryffindor girl, and she was struck by the darkness in his eyes. "She accepted my request for her company today of her own free will. I dare say she does indeed date Slytherins." He gave her a sardonic smile. "Shows remarkably good taste on her part."
Ron looked at the dark haired boy, finally realizing the truth of the situation. He placed one hand on his sister's arm. "Let's go, Ginny."
She looked down, dumbstruck. Her brother's fingers pressed into her own pale skin, and she couldn't believe she'd heard what he had just said. Before she could stammer out a denial, another hand clapped down on Ron's arm. "I suggest you accept your sister's decision," Blaise said quietly, the anger now evident in his voice. He began to remove Ron's fingers from Ginny's arm.
"Get your slimy Slytherin hands off of me!" Ron howled.
"Feeling threatened, Weaselgit?" Malfoy drawled. "Afraid your sister grows weary of your tiresome company? I couldn't fault her for that, even if she is a Gryff.. and a Weasley." His voice sounded eerily similar to his father's, during another discussion of Weasleys that day in Flourish and Blotts so many years before.
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron growled. His voice dripped venom.
But Draco was enjoying watching the Weasel King turn purple, and continued with glee. "And you think that's an adequate reply? Shame. You know, for a Weasel, your sister isn't bad-looking. I might even deign to date her, if it wasn't for the exceedingly distasteful circumstances of her birth.."
The very idea of his sister dating Draco Malfoy, junior Death Eater and Prince of Slimy Slytherin Gits, erased any remaining possibility of rational thought. Ron launched himself at Malfoy, as Ginny, Blaise and Pansy watched in fascinated horror.
~*~
Ginny couldn't tear her eyes away for several moments; her brother and the Head Boy had been at each other's throats for so long that a confrontation was inevitable. But this .. the scene before her was entirely not what she'd expected. And she feared that a couple years of Defense Association meetings was no match for someone who'd been exposed, on some level, to the dark arts since childhood.
Bringing an end to the spectacle as early as possible seemed the best course of action. She pulled her wand from its pocket and shouted "Petrificus Totalus!" at the combatants - and was startled to realize her voice wasn't alone. She looked over at Pansy, who had her own wand out, and who shrugged as the dust began to settle.
"Seemed prudent," Pansy said offhandedly. "Draco is quite particular about his appearance, and yet his glamours are not as strong as his hexes."
"Git," Ginny said by way of reply. She knelt next to her brother and began cataloguing the extent of his injuries. An impressive bruise was blossoming across his left cheek, and he had a few superficial scratches.
"They probably haven't done permanent damage," Pansy replied, "but all the same it's probably best to let Madam Pomfrey determine that."
Ginny looked at the older girl for a moment. "I doubt it's entirely necessary," she said.
Pansy pulled her aside. "Let me put it this way," she said quietly. "Do you want them to return to their facilities here, where there's nothing stopping them from resuming hostilities, or would you rather they are in a place with someone fully-qualified .. in keeping order?"
Ginny looked at the Slytherin Prefect for a long moment. "You make a good point," she said finally. "I'll go first." She turned to Blaise. "I'm sorry our day is ruined."
"It's all right, sweet. He'll make it up to us some other time." His voice was quiet, but there was something hard to it that was unsettling. She gave him a long look before she waved her wand again and muttered, "Mobilicorpus."
It was a long walk to the castle with a motionless and speechless companion. Ginny thought that it was rather to be preferred than the alternative; this way she could give him a piece of her mind without him arguing with her.
"Look at you," she said just loud enough for her brother to hear. "Gryffindor Prefect, captain of Quidditch, making a complete ARSE of himself with someone whose only claim to it was that his name is Draco bloody Malfoy."
Isn't that enough? she could hear the response he would have given in her mind.
"He's not the one who asked me to Hogsmeade, nor did he lay a finger on me - not that a Malfoy would ever touch a Weasley. He made a comment not worthy of a response in order to brass you off, and you took the bait. I'm honoured that you would fight for me, Ron, really I am. But honestly! Didn't you learn anything from our playing Quidditch at home? I am more than able to pick my own fights." She reached over to tousle his hair in the way she knew irritated him especially, before she navigated their way through Hogwarts' front gates.
She surprised Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick having a conversation in the Entrance Hall. "Merciful Circe!" the Transfiguration professor exclaimed. "Miss Weasley, can you explain what has occurred?"
"My brother and the Head Boy got into a difference of opinion in Hogsmeade," she replied quickly. "Pansy Parkinson and I managed to stop them before they could do permanent damage to themselves." She paused for a few seconds, considering. "The Petrificus should be wearing off at any moment."
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened. "Filius, forgive me, but we'll have to cut our chat short. Miss Weasley, you will accompany myself and your brother up to the Hospital Wing, where you can tell me EXACTLY -" Ginny shivered at the emphasis placed on the word -"what transpired."
"Of course," the younger Gryffindor said, mortified. She watched as her Head of House took over the transportation of her still-motionless brother, and followed her mutely down the hall, up two sets of moving staircases (which, happily, remained stationary for the transfer), and into Madam Pomfrey's domain.
That good lady took one look at the small party entering the wing and exclaimed loudly. "Oi! What have we here?"
"An unfortunate disagreement between students," McGonagall replied crisply.
"Let's put Mr. Weasley over here," the mediwitch said, gesturing to a bed at the end of the ward. "It wouldn't be a proper school year if I didn't have a Weasley in my care at some time or another."
Ginny watched as her brother was situated, and then Professor McGonagall turned back to her. "Now, would you kindly inform me as to the reason that your brother is lying in the hospital wing?"
"A severe case of the Weasley temper," Ginny volunteered. At her professor's dark look, she began a summary of the salient points of the tale, including how she'd owled her brother with her intentions in fear of his over-reaction, but leaving out the more personal details of her conversations with her Slytherin date. When she got to the scene in the Three Broomsticks, she was surprised at the intensity of the displeasure that crossed McGonagall's face.
"Unprecedented," the older witch said, a note of frustration in her voice. "A Gryffindor Prefect in an altercation with the Head Boy in a public place! I'm sure that Professor Snape will address the situation with Mr. Malfoy, but for my own part I expect better from my own House's Prefects."
Ginny privately thought that the professor's estimation of the Slytherin Head of House's willingness to reprimand the young Malfoy was more generous than realism called for, but said nothing. At that moment, both witches were distracted from their own conversation by Pansy and Malfoy's own entrance into the Hospital Wing.
The two witches watched as the entrance of the incapacitated Head Boy got a similarly loud response from Madam Pomfrey, followed by a prolonged episode of tutting as she oversaw his transfer to a bed several cots away from his Gryffindor opponent. Pansy brushed some fallen blond locks solicitously away from his face as the mediwitch catalogued the injuries done to his person.
After several long moments, Pomfrey turned to the Head of Gryffindor. "They certainly had the capability to do much greater damage," she commented frankly. "All the same, I'd like to keep them for a bit.. give them some time to consider their actions today while I monitor for any ill-effects from their restraint."
"It is probably testament to our quick-thinking Prefects that they did not get the opportunity to do so, Poppy," McGonagall replied. "Miss Parkinson, I'd like to hear your version of events."
"Of course," Pansy said. Her manner was quick, businesslike - Ginny guessed that her usual distaste for things Gryffindor was warring with the need to look good in the eyes of the Deputy Headmistress. As Pansy and McGonagall were retreating to the same corner of the room Ginny had suffered her interview in, a loud groan was heard from the cot where her brother lay.
She crossed the distance between them to stand next to his bed as his eyelids fluttered, the first movement he'd exhibited in at least an hour. "Did you have to hit me with Petrificus, Gin?" he mumbled. "Couldn't you have just, y'know .. held me back or something?"
"I thought you'd promised to treat me like I was sixteen and not eleven," she said quietly.
"That was before you exhibited extremely poor judgement and agreed to go to Hogsmeade on a date with a Slytherin."
His voice was still rough from the experience of fighting and then being magically restrained, but Ginny did not find it endearing. It sounded angry, and her own emotions fed off the sound. "Funny that you didn't mention that limitation when you made the promise, Ron!" she snapped, louder than was appropriate for the hospital wing.
"Do you think you could keep the family row to yourselves?"
"Sod off, Ferret," Ginny said angrily to the other boy, who'd evidently regained his own senses. Turning back to her brother, she continued the diatribe. "You spent your first four years at school almost completely unaware of my life, and from all accounts quite happy to let it be that way. Things may have been slightly better since then, but I refuse to let you set restrictions on me, always rushing in to save me from myself! You don't know me well enough to have earned that right!"
"Ginny -" her brother interjected, but she refused to give him the chance to get another word in.
"I'm not listening to another word from you right now, Ron. If you're lucky, I'll be speaking to you again by the time you get out of hospital wing." She turned to go .. but on a whim, stopped as she passed by the spot where the Head Boy was holding his head in his hands, as though it would split in two otherwise. "Oh, Ferret, about what you said in the Three Broomsticks? I'm touched. And if you were slightly better looking, I might even say the same about you." Seeing the startled expression on the Slytherin's face, she turned back to see her brother's countenance darkening before removing from the confines of the ward.
~*~
The common room was quiet when she returned to Gryffindor tower, as the majority of her house - excluding the "short people", as her brother so charmingly called them at the beginning of her fourth year - was in Hogsmeade enjoying the rest of their day. She retreated to the sixth-year girls' dorm briefly to get the book she'd checked out of the library, a treatise on Wizarding involvement in the Crusades.
She settled into one of the window-seats in the common room with her book and cracked it open to the page she'd stopped at, but realized when she'd read the same paragraph three times in the course of an hour that her mind wasn't on History of Magic. She gazed out the window while she let her thoughts drift back towards what had transpired that day.
Apart from their tense few moments in the scrivener's shop, she and Blaise had made an enjoyable morning of things. He was courteous and attentive .. one of the more handsome young wizards in seventh-year, even with the hair and eyes that reminded her of another Slytherin of her acquaintance. And he'd murmured a few things to her that she'd not be sharing with her prat brother anytime soon.
Or anyone else, for that matter.
Had he really said she was beautiful? Her mum had said the words on a few occasions, like the morning she'd gotten ready to board the Express for the first time and Molly Weasley had gushed over her appearance. But that instance paled in comparison to having an eighteen-year-old male say the words - with something interesting going on in his eyes that indicated he meant what he said.
And then there was the way she'd felt when he'd put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her. He'd walked with her from the castle, all over town, and it had always been at her pace -- she'd never once felt like the inferior member of their pair. The way he'd called her "sweet," the way he'd soothed her feelings in the scrivener's after she felt thoroughly embarrassed. She'd caught herself thinking, again, that her experiences with other boys hadn't prepared her for it, at all.
Up until that moment she'd never wanted to be treated like something delicate, but in the space of a few seconds she realized that she'd enjoyed the attentions that Blaise had paid her that morning. It was a novel sensation, and she wasn't about to let her brother's tendency to headstrong impulsiveness bollocks it up.
The portrait swung open at that moment, and Ginny's hands flew to the edges of the book. Her brother and Hermione were returning to the common room. She rose from her seat, closing the book's pages in the process, and turned to go.
"So have you decided whether or not you're speaking to me yet?" His voice was stronger now, but still carried a note of fatigue. It caused a tiny well of regret to bubble up in Ginny's heart, which she contained as quickly as possible. He had been the arse, after all.
"I'm quite ready to say a few things to you, brother mine," she said seriously. "The real question is, are you ready to listen to them?"
Brother and sister exchanged glances, and he finally motioned to one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. Taking the gesture as tacit agreement to hear her out, Ginny settled on the cushions and watched her brother do the same. Hermione sat on a stuffed chair not far away, and the younger Weasley could sense that she was ready to play referee if necessary.
Before she could take her brother to task for promising to think of her as sixteen and not eleven and then breaking his word in such a public manner, Ron spoke first. "When I made that promise, Ginny, I didn't think of you dating."
She looked over at him, her eyebrows furrowed. "You were aware that I dated Michael Corner and Dean Thomas," she said, mystified. "Did you think after Dean and I ended things that I'd never go out with another boy?"
"I could hope," Ron muttered.
"Well, it wasn't a very realistic hope," Ginny replied. "I rather enjoyed myself today, before certain individuals managed to make an arse of things."
Her brother's face flushed, and she could see in his expression that he was ready to trot out the old "you don't know the Slytherins like I do" rhetoric. She attempted to reroute it. "Before you start in, Ron, let me tell you a few things. Blaise was a perfect gentleman this morning - he didn't try to injure, hex, abduct, or use Unforgivables on me. We talked about Quidditch, House stereotypes, my exceptional mind, and the Nimbus X-2."
"Ginny, hear me out." Ron's voice was earnest, and the expression on his face was exuding concern. "What if - just what if - he was being so nice simply to lull you into a false sense of security?"
Ginny looked blankly at her brother for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't see it."
"You wouldn't," he said quickly. "You don't have the proper perspective -"
"And neither do you!" Ginny replied hotly. "You've spent so long hating Slytherins that you can't see past your own prejudices!"
Hermione leaned forward. "Ron -- Ginny --"
But all three were interrupted by a call from the portrait hole. "Gin," Colin called from the archway, where he was just stepping through on his own return from Hogsmeade. "You have a visitor."
"EXCUSE me," she said forcefully to her brother and his girlfriend, before rising from her seat and crossing the room. Colin gave her a small smile as she passed him, and stepped out of the archway .. to discover Blaise waiting outside.
"Hi, Blaise," she said, pitching her voice just loudly enough for her brother to hear. She hadn't lived with Weasley boys for sixteen years not to know that he'd be eavesdropping on her conversation.
"Ginny," he said congenially. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
She shook her head. "Nothing that can't be continued later."
The dark-haired Slytherin gave her a smirk. "I wanted to bring your quills by," he said. "You forgot them at Madam Puddifoot's."
Ginny looked down at the bag Blaise held out. "I did, didn't I." She took the bag in one hand, and looked back up. "I was a bit distracted."
"I did have a good time, until we were so rudely interrupted," he said softly. He glanced through the portrait hole; seeing Ron watching, he leaned forward and kissed Ginny on the cheek. "Good evening, Ginny. I'll see you in class."
The Gryffindor girl turned to watch the Slytherin head toward the stair that would carry him toward more friendly territory. As he disappeared around the corner, she sighed and walked once more through the portrait hole. As she expected, her brother had seen the kiss, and turned a horrible shade of red. Hermione had put an arm around his shoulder, in an effort to restrain him from repeating his earlier exertions.
"I have no intention of ending this .. whatever this is," Ginny said to her brother. "Not all of us are so lucky to meet our soulmates at age eleven, you know." And stopping only to pick up her book, she swept through the archway that led to the stairs to the girls' dormitory, and solitude.
"Ginny Molly Weasley, what do you think you're doing?!"
The subject of that exclamation covered her face with her hands. "Dying of embarrassment at my brother's treatment of me," she said slowly and clearly. "And Merlin and Morgana as my witness, if you .. EVER .. use my middle name in public again, I'll string your entrails from Astronomy Tower."
Ron turned his indignance elsewhere. "What are you on about, Malfoy?" Ginny was startled that Ron had turned on bloody Malfoy when Blaise should have been the villain of the piece, until she turned around and saw the glee on the Head Boy's face. His amusement was infectious, and she felt the corner of her mouth quirk upward as the Ferret confronted her rapidly-reddening brother.
"King Weasel, I'd rather think you'd be spouting inanities at the person actually dating your sister, instead of an innocent bystander," he drawled.
"You are NEVER an innocent bystander, Ferret!" Ron replied hotly. "And my sister does not date Slytherins!"
"I beg to differ," Blaise commented. The tone of his voice was calm, but Ginny heard the irritation. He looked at the Gryffindor girl, and she was struck by the darkness in his eyes. "She accepted my request for her company today of her own free will. I dare say she does indeed date Slytherins." He gave her a sardonic smile. "Shows remarkably good taste on her part."
Ron looked at the dark haired boy, finally realizing the truth of the situation. He placed one hand on his sister's arm. "Let's go, Ginny."
She looked down, dumbstruck. Her brother's fingers pressed into her own pale skin, and she couldn't believe she'd heard what he had just said. Before she could stammer out a denial, another hand clapped down on Ron's arm. "I suggest you accept your sister's decision," Blaise said quietly, the anger now evident in his voice. He began to remove Ron's fingers from Ginny's arm.
"Get your slimy Slytherin hands off of me!" Ron howled.
"Feeling threatened, Weaselgit?" Malfoy drawled. "Afraid your sister grows weary of your tiresome company? I couldn't fault her for that, even if she is a Gryff.. and a Weasley." His voice sounded eerily similar to his father's, during another discussion of Weasleys that day in Flourish and Blotts so many years before.
"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron growled. His voice dripped venom.
But Draco was enjoying watching the Weasel King turn purple, and continued with glee. "And you think that's an adequate reply? Shame. You know, for a Weasel, your sister isn't bad-looking. I might even deign to date her, if it wasn't for the exceedingly distasteful circumstances of her birth.."
The very idea of his sister dating Draco Malfoy, junior Death Eater and Prince of Slimy Slytherin Gits, erased any remaining possibility of rational thought. Ron launched himself at Malfoy, as Ginny, Blaise and Pansy watched in fascinated horror.
Ginny couldn't tear her eyes away for several moments; her brother and the Head Boy had been at each other's throats for so long that a confrontation was inevitable. But this .. the scene before her was entirely not what she'd expected. And she feared that a couple years of Defense Association meetings was no match for someone who'd been exposed, on some level, to the dark arts since childhood.
Bringing an end to the spectacle as early as possible seemed the best course of action. She pulled her wand from its pocket and shouted "Petrificus Totalus!" at the combatants - and was startled to realize her voice wasn't alone. She looked over at Pansy, who had her own wand out, and who shrugged as the dust began to settle.
"Seemed prudent," Pansy said offhandedly. "Draco is quite particular about his appearance, and yet his glamours are not as strong as his hexes."
"Git," Ginny said by way of reply. She knelt next to her brother and began cataloguing the extent of his injuries. An impressive bruise was blossoming across his left cheek, and he had a few superficial scratches.
"They probably haven't done permanent damage," Pansy replied, "but all the same it's probably best to let Madam Pomfrey determine that."
Ginny looked at the older girl for a moment. "I doubt it's entirely necessary," she said.
Pansy pulled her aside. "Let me put it this way," she said quietly. "Do you want them to return to their facilities here, where there's nothing stopping them from resuming hostilities, or would you rather they are in a place with someone fully-qualified .. in keeping order?"
Ginny looked at the Slytherin Prefect for a long moment. "You make a good point," she said finally. "I'll go first." She turned to Blaise. "I'm sorry our day is ruined."
"It's all right, sweet. He'll make it up to us some other time." His voice was quiet, but there was something hard to it that was unsettling. She gave him a long look before she waved her wand again and muttered, "Mobilicorpus."
It was a long walk to the castle with a motionless and speechless companion. Ginny thought that it was rather to be preferred than the alternative; this way she could give him a piece of her mind without him arguing with her.
"Look at you," she said just loud enough for her brother to hear. "Gryffindor Prefect, captain of Quidditch, making a complete ARSE of himself with someone whose only claim to it was that his name is Draco bloody Malfoy."
Isn't that enough? she could hear the response he would have given in her mind.
"He's not the one who asked me to Hogsmeade, nor did he lay a finger on me - not that a Malfoy would ever touch a Weasley. He made a comment not worthy of a response in order to brass you off, and you took the bait. I'm honoured that you would fight for me, Ron, really I am. But honestly! Didn't you learn anything from our playing Quidditch at home? I am more than able to pick my own fights." She reached over to tousle his hair in the way she knew irritated him especially, before she navigated their way through Hogwarts' front gates.
She surprised Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick having a conversation in the Entrance Hall. "Merciful Circe!" the Transfiguration professor exclaimed. "Miss Weasley, can you explain what has occurred?"
"My brother and the Head Boy got into a difference of opinion in Hogsmeade," she replied quickly. "Pansy Parkinson and I managed to stop them before they could do permanent damage to themselves." She paused for a few seconds, considering. "The Petrificus should be wearing off at any moment."
Professor McGonagall's eyes widened. "Filius, forgive me, but we'll have to cut our chat short. Miss Weasley, you will accompany myself and your brother up to the Hospital Wing, where you can tell me EXACTLY -" Ginny shivered at the emphasis placed on the word -"what transpired."
"Of course," the younger Gryffindor said, mortified. She watched as her Head of House took over the transportation of her still-motionless brother, and followed her mutely down the hall, up two sets of moving staircases (which, happily, remained stationary for the transfer), and into Madam Pomfrey's domain.
That good lady took one look at the small party entering the wing and exclaimed loudly. "Oi! What have we here?"
"An unfortunate disagreement between students," McGonagall replied crisply.
"Let's put Mr. Weasley over here," the mediwitch said, gesturing to a bed at the end of the ward. "It wouldn't be a proper school year if I didn't have a Weasley in my care at some time or another."
Ginny watched as her brother was situated, and then Professor McGonagall turned back to her. "Now, would you kindly inform me as to the reason that your brother is lying in the hospital wing?"
"A severe case of the Weasley temper," Ginny volunteered. At her professor's dark look, she began a summary of the salient points of the tale, including how she'd owled her brother with her intentions in fear of his over-reaction, but leaving out the more personal details of her conversations with her Slytherin date. When she got to the scene in the Three Broomsticks, she was surprised at the intensity of the displeasure that crossed McGonagall's face.
"Unprecedented," the older witch said, a note of frustration in her voice. "A Gryffindor Prefect in an altercation with the Head Boy in a public place! I'm sure that Professor Snape will address the situation with Mr. Malfoy, but for my own part I expect better from my own House's Prefects."
Ginny privately thought that the professor's estimation of the Slytherin Head of House's willingness to reprimand the young Malfoy was more generous than realism called for, but said nothing. At that moment, both witches were distracted from their own conversation by Pansy and Malfoy's own entrance into the Hospital Wing.
The two witches watched as the entrance of the incapacitated Head Boy got a similarly loud response from Madam Pomfrey, followed by a prolonged episode of tutting as she oversaw his transfer to a bed several cots away from his Gryffindor opponent. Pansy brushed some fallen blond locks solicitously away from his face as the mediwitch catalogued the injuries done to his person.
After several long moments, Pomfrey turned to the Head of Gryffindor. "They certainly had the capability to do much greater damage," she commented frankly. "All the same, I'd like to keep them for a bit.. give them some time to consider their actions today while I monitor for any ill-effects from their restraint."
"It is probably testament to our quick-thinking Prefects that they did not get the opportunity to do so, Poppy," McGonagall replied. "Miss Parkinson, I'd like to hear your version of events."
"Of course," Pansy said. Her manner was quick, businesslike - Ginny guessed that her usual distaste for things Gryffindor was warring with the need to look good in the eyes of the Deputy Headmistress. As Pansy and McGonagall were retreating to the same corner of the room Ginny had suffered her interview in, a loud groan was heard from the cot where her brother lay.
She crossed the distance between them to stand next to his bed as his eyelids fluttered, the first movement he'd exhibited in at least an hour. "Did you have to hit me with Petrificus, Gin?" he mumbled. "Couldn't you have just, y'know .. held me back or something?"
"I thought you'd promised to treat me like I was sixteen and not eleven," she said quietly.
"That was before you exhibited extremely poor judgement and agreed to go to Hogsmeade on a date with a Slytherin."
His voice was still rough from the experience of fighting and then being magically restrained, but Ginny did not find it endearing. It sounded angry, and her own emotions fed off the sound. "Funny that you didn't mention that limitation when you made the promise, Ron!" she snapped, louder than was appropriate for the hospital wing.
"Do you think you could keep the family row to yourselves?"
"Sod off, Ferret," Ginny said angrily to the other boy, who'd evidently regained his own senses. Turning back to her brother, she continued the diatribe. "You spent your first four years at school almost completely unaware of my life, and from all accounts quite happy to let it be that way. Things may have been slightly better since then, but I refuse to let you set restrictions on me, always rushing in to save me from myself! You don't know me well enough to have earned that right!"
"Ginny -" her brother interjected, but she refused to give him the chance to get another word in.
"I'm not listening to another word from you right now, Ron. If you're lucky, I'll be speaking to you again by the time you get out of hospital wing." She turned to go .. but on a whim, stopped as she passed by the spot where the Head Boy was holding his head in his hands, as though it would split in two otherwise. "Oh, Ferret, about what you said in the Three Broomsticks? I'm touched. And if you were slightly better looking, I might even say the same about you." Seeing the startled expression on the Slytherin's face, she turned back to see her brother's countenance darkening before removing from the confines of the ward.
The common room was quiet when she returned to Gryffindor tower, as the majority of her house - excluding the "short people", as her brother so charmingly called them at the beginning of her fourth year - was in Hogsmeade enjoying the rest of their day. She retreated to the sixth-year girls' dorm briefly to get the book she'd checked out of the library, a treatise on Wizarding involvement in the Crusades.
She settled into one of the window-seats in the common room with her book and cracked it open to the page she'd stopped at, but realized when she'd read the same paragraph three times in the course of an hour that her mind wasn't on History of Magic. She gazed out the window while she let her thoughts drift back towards what had transpired that day.
Apart from their tense few moments in the scrivener's shop, she and Blaise had made an enjoyable morning of things. He was courteous and attentive .. one of the more handsome young wizards in seventh-year, even with the hair and eyes that reminded her of another Slytherin of her acquaintance. And he'd murmured a few things to her that she'd not be sharing with her prat brother anytime soon.
Or anyone else, for that matter.
Had he really said she was beautiful? Her mum had said the words on a few occasions, like the morning she'd gotten ready to board the Express for the first time and Molly Weasley had gushed over her appearance. But that instance paled in comparison to having an eighteen-year-old male say the words - with something interesting going on in his eyes that indicated he meant what he said.
And then there was the way she'd felt when he'd put his arm around her shoulders and kissed her. He'd walked with her from the castle, all over town, and it had always been at her pace -- she'd never once felt like the inferior member of their pair. The way he'd called her "sweet," the way he'd soothed her feelings in the scrivener's after she felt thoroughly embarrassed. She'd caught herself thinking, again, that her experiences with other boys hadn't prepared her for it, at all.
Up until that moment she'd never wanted to be treated like something delicate, but in the space of a few seconds she realized that she'd enjoyed the attentions that Blaise had paid her that morning. It was a novel sensation, and she wasn't about to let her brother's tendency to headstrong impulsiveness bollocks it up.
The portrait swung open at that moment, and Ginny's hands flew to the edges of the book. Her brother and Hermione were returning to the common room. She rose from her seat, closing the book's pages in the process, and turned to go.
"So have you decided whether or not you're speaking to me yet?" His voice was stronger now, but still carried a note of fatigue. It caused a tiny well of regret to bubble up in Ginny's heart, which she contained as quickly as possible. He had been the arse, after all.
"I'm quite ready to say a few things to you, brother mine," she said seriously. "The real question is, are you ready to listen to them?"
Brother and sister exchanged glances, and he finally motioned to one of the sofas in front of the fireplace. Taking the gesture as tacit agreement to hear her out, Ginny settled on the cushions and watched her brother do the same. Hermione sat on a stuffed chair not far away, and the younger Weasley could sense that she was ready to play referee if necessary.
Before she could take her brother to task for promising to think of her as sixteen and not eleven and then breaking his word in such a public manner, Ron spoke first. "When I made that promise, Ginny, I didn't think of you dating."
She looked over at him, her eyebrows furrowed. "You were aware that I dated Michael Corner and Dean Thomas," she said, mystified. "Did you think after Dean and I ended things that I'd never go out with another boy?"
"I could hope," Ron muttered.
"Well, it wasn't a very realistic hope," Ginny replied. "I rather enjoyed myself today, before certain individuals managed to make an arse of things."
Her brother's face flushed, and she could see in his expression that he was ready to trot out the old "you don't know the Slytherins like I do" rhetoric. She attempted to reroute it. "Before you start in, Ron, let me tell you a few things. Blaise was a perfect gentleman this morning - he didn't try to injure, hex, abduct, or use Unforgivables on me. We talked about Quidditch, House stereotypes, my exceptional mind, and the Nimbus X-2."
"Ginny, hear me out." Ron's voice was earnest, and the expression on his face was exuding concern. "What if - just what if - he was being so nice simply to lull you into a false sense of security?"
Ginny looked blankly at her brother for a moment before shaking her head. "I don't see it."
"You wouldn't," he said quickly. "You don't have the proper perspective -"
"And neither do you!" Ginny replied hotly. "You've spent so long hating Slytherins that you can't see past your own prejudices!"
Hermione leaned forward. "Ron -- Ginny --"
But all three were interrupted by a call from the portrait hole. "Gin," Colin called from the archway, where he was just stepping through on his own return from Hogsmeade. "You have a visitor."
"EXCUSE me," she said forcefully to her brother and his girlfriend, before rising from her seat and crossing the room. Colin gave her a small smile as she passed him, and stepped out of the archway .. to discover Blaise waiting outside.
"Hi, Blaise," she said, pitching her voice just loudly enough for her brother to hear. She hadn't lived with Weasley boys for sixteen years not to know that he'd be eavesdropping on her conversation.
"Ginny," he said congenially. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"
She shook her head. "Nothing that can't be continued later."
The dark-haired Slytherin gave her a smirk. "I wanted to bring your quills by," he said. "You forgot them at Madam Puddifoot's."
Ginny looked down at the bag Blaise held out. "I did, didn't I." She took the bag in one hand, and looked back up. "I was a bit distracted."
"I did have a good time, until we were so rudely interrupted," he said softly. He glanced through the portrait hole; seeing Ron watching, he leaned forward and kissed Ginny on the cheek. "Good evening, Ginny. I'll see you in class."
The Gryffindor girl turned to watch the Slytherin head toward the stair that would carry him toward more friendly territory. As he disappeared around the corner, she sighed and walked once more through the portrait hole. As she expected, her brother had seen the kiss, and turned a horrible shade of red. Hermione had put an arm around his shoulder, in an effort to restrain him from repeating his earlier exertions.
"I have no intention of ending this .. whatever this is," Ginny said to her brother. "Not all of us are so lucky to meet our soulmates at age eleven, you know." And stopping only to pick up her book, she swept through the archway that led to the stairs to the girls' dormitory, and solitude.
To Be Continued.
ClanMalfoy is the author of 10 other stories.
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This story is a favorite of 20 members. Members who liked Not So Far also liked 1391 other stories.
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