Chapter 5- Bat Bogeys and Howlers
Tears dripped down Ginny’s cheeks and fell into the lake, her face burning as she sang softly to herself. Her fingertips grazed the water’s surface, rippling her reflection. She sniffled and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to guard against both the cold and the loneliness. Shivers wracked her small frame, and she soon found she was sobbing.
“If I’m so glad I got that off my chest, why do I feel so horrible?”
“Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.”
Ginny tilted her head back to watch Draco walk closer, not bothering to dry her face.
“Go away; I don’t need this right now.”
Instead of moving away, the somber Slytherin folded down onto the grass beside her and tossed his green velvet cloak over to her.
“I thought you might like some company.”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
Draco was quiet for a few minutes, and Ginny thought he might take the hint and go away. He didn’t.
“You know. . .” he began, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Just because your brother and the twerps underestimate you doesn’t mean everyone else does.”
“Their opinions are what matter.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what can get me in trouble. If Ron or Hermione or Harry tells my mum that I’m a little slut. . .well, let’s just say it’s my word against theirs.”
“Don’t you get tired of being the good girl all the time?”
Ginny gave a dry, humorless laugh and lay back on the cold ground. “I can’t stand it. I hate being known as ‘Ron’s little sister’ and ‘that Weasley girl.’”
Draco opened his mouth to say something back, but footsteps crunching on the frosted grass made him stop.
“Ginny!”
The red head didn’t even turn around. “Go away, Harry.”
“No! You’re sitting with Draco Malfoy and wearing his cloak.”
“Very good, Harry. You’re incredibly observant.”
“He’s a Death Eater’s son, Ginny, probably a Death Eater himself.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Way to talk about him like he’s not here, Harry.”
“Quit changing the subject! Honestly, I don’t what’s gotten into you lately.”
Ginny snorted. “You never knew me in the first place, so I’m really not surprised by that. Go away.”
“No.”
“Now.”
“No.”
Ginny pulled out her wand and aimed it at Harry’s head. “Harry, I’m warning you-”
“Don’t you threaten me; it won’t work.”
“You’re about to volunteer to be target practice for a vanishing spell.”
Harry just crossed his arms across his chest.
Ginny stood and grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him away from Draco. “Harry, what the crap? We settled yesterday that my life is none of your business. I thought you got the point and wouldn’t try to look after me anymore.” Her voice was more disappointed than angry.
Harry looked slightly guilty. “I know, Gin. I just worry about you, having to work with him all the time. You’re like my little sister, and if anything happened to you. . .”
Ginny’s face softened, and the fire left her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
“GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, I AM ASHAMED OF YOU! HOW DARE YOU CONSORT WITH A MALFOY? YOU STAY AWAY FROM HIM, DO YOU HEAR ME? OUR FAMILY HAS ENOUGH ON ITS PLATE WITHOUT US BEING CONNECTED WITH THAT SORT OF PEOPLE! YOU GET YOUR PRIORITIES IN ORDER, YOUNG LADY, OR I’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME! Oh, and thank you Ron, for telling me about your sister’s horrible behavior.”
Ron was watching Ginny smugly from across the table, and she just burned to wipe that look of his face. Instead, she calmly scraped the last spoonful of porridge into her mouth as the Howler curled into ash.
“She’s really losing her touch, isn’t she? It’s not nearly as bad as that one she sent you in second year.”
She rose from the table and left the Great Hall, whispers and pointing following her up the marble staircase.
“She and Malfoy?”
Ginny sat absentmindedly at the piano and began sight-reading. The sheet music on the stand was relatively simple, and the melody line was easy to pick up. Within a few bars, Ginny recognized Andrew Lloyd Webber's Tell Me On a Sunday.
When she was about halfway through the song, the door to the practice room opened to admit Draco Malfoy, followed by Patrick. A thick silence fell as the two students stared at each other, and during which the musical director closed the door and nudged Draco further into the room.
“You said you wanted to talk to me,” the blond Slytherin said, his tone slightly accusatory.
“I do,” Patrick replied easily, pushing him into a chair right in front of the piano. “Both of you. You’re obviously not at ease with each other, and you have to be able to get along if this show is going to be any good.
Ginny rose from where the piano bench and folded herself into a chair, looking at Patrick suspiciously.
“So what are we doing?”
“You’re getting to know each other. I’m going to ask questions that you two are going to answer in complete honesty.”
Draco stood to leave and Patrick’s tone turned sharp.
“Take one step outside that door and you can turn in your script now.”
For a moment, Draco looked as though the loss of his part would be a small price to pay, but he sullenly returned to his seat.
Patrick nodded approvingly. “Good. Now, Ginny, you’re first. Why were you attracted to this musical?”
She shrugged. “I love music. I love everything to do with it. Christine Daae has always been my dream part, and I figured if I auditioned I could at least say I tried.”
“Why do you love music so much?”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. “I don’t really know how to describe it. Music is so beautiful, and it really touches people. So many emotions can be expressed through it, emotions that you wouldn’t want to just say outright.”
“Good, good. Draco?”
“What she said.”
Patrick sighed. “Alright, Draco, why don’t you like Ginny?”
Draco snorted with disdain. “She’s a blood traitor. She’s a pureblood witch with a lot of potential, but she insists on following the steps of that worthless father of hers.”
“Ginny, why do you dislike Draco?”
“He thinks he’s better than everyone else,” Ginny said, looking straight at Draco with her nose crinkled in disgust. “He’s a pureblood with a lot of potential, but he insists on following the steps of his worthless father.”
“Why do you consort with those that Draco deems 'unworthy'?”
“Why not? Determining a person’s value from the family they’re born into is just stupid, not to mention illogical. I mean, look at Hermione; she’s muggleborn, but the smartest witch in the entire school! So-called ‘birthright’ should have no significance in today’s culture.”
“Draco, why do you feel you’re better than everyone else?”
“Birthright. Despite the little Weaslette’s claims, lineage does matter. Why else would Slytherin accept only people of wizarding descent?”
“Because you’re a bunch of conceited prigs who-”
Patrick looked at her sharply, and she shut her mouth.
“Ginny, have you ever felt anything besides loathing for Draco?”
“No,” she said, a little too quickly.
“Remember, I want you to be completely honest.”
Ginny sighed heavily and obviously. “Well. . . yes, if you must know. He really is good-looking, and he can be nice when he tries to be.” Her face was glowing crimson, but she was looking at Draco with something akin to pity in her eyes.
“Draco?”
The Malfoy snorted, superb disdain on his face. “Anything but loathing? For the Weaslette? You’re off your rocker, Patrick, you really are.”
“Complete honesty, Draco.”
“I can hardly bring myself to tolerate her.”
Ginny calmly drew her wand and pointed it in her co-star’s direction. “Draco, do you remember that lovely Bat Bogey Hex that I excel at?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer.
Tears dripped down Ginny’s cheeks and fell into the lake, her face burning as she sang softly to herself. Her fingertips grazed the water’s surface, rippling her reflection. She sniffled and wrapped her arms around herself, trying to guard against both the cold and the loneliness. Shivers wracked her small frame, and she soon found she was sobbing.
“If I’m so glad I got that off my chest, why do I feel so horrible?”
“Talking to yourself is the first sign of madness.”
Ginny tilted her head back to watch Draco walk closer, not bothering to dry her face.
“Go away; I don’t need this right now.”
Instead of moving away, the somber Slytherin folded down onto the grass beside her and tossed his green velvet cloak over to her.
“I thought you might like some company.”
“Well, you thought wrong.”
Draco was quiet for a few minutes, and Ginny thought he might take the hint and go away. He didn’t.
“You know. . .” he began, uncharacteristically hesitant. “Just because your brother and the twerps underestimate you doesn’t mean everyone else does.”
“Their opinions are what matter.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s what can get me in trouble. If Ron or Hermione or Harry tells my mum that I’m a little slut. . .well, let’s just say it’s my word against theirs.”
“Don’t you get tired of being the good girl all the time?”
Ginny gave a dry, humorless laugh and lay back on the cold ground. “I can’t stand it. I hate being known as ‘Ron’s little sister’ and ‘that Weasley girl.’”
Draco opened his mouth to say something back, but footsteps crunching on the frosted grass made him stop.
“Ginny!”
The red head didn’t even turn around. “Go away, Harry.”
“No! You’re sitting with Draco Malfoy and wearing his cloak.”
“Very good, Harry. You’re incredibly observant.”
“He’s a Death Eater’s son, Ginny, probably a Death Eater himself.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Way to talk about him like he’s not here, Harry.”
“Quit changing the subject! Honestly, I don’t what’s gotten into you lately.”
Ginny snorted. “You never knew me in the first place, so I’m really not surprised by that. Go away.”
“No.”
“Now.”
“No.”
Ginny pulled out her wand and aimed it at Harry’s head. “Harry, I’m warning you-”
“Don’t you threaten me; it won’t work.”
“You’re about to volunteer to be target practice for a vanishing spell.”
Harry just crossed his arms across his chest.
Ginny stood and grabbed Harry’s arm, pulling him away from Draco. “Harry, what the crap? We settled yesterday that my life is none of your business. I thought you got the point and wouldn’t try to look after me anymore.” Her voice was more disappointed than angry.
Harry looked slightly guilty. “I know, Gin. I just worry about you, having to work with him all the time. You’re like my little sister, and if anything happened to you. . .”
Ginny’s face softened, and the fire left her eyes. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine.”
“GINEVRA MOLLY WEASLEY, I AM ASHAMED OF YOU! HOW DARE YOU CONSORT WITH A MALFOY? YOU STAY AWAY FROM HIM, DO YOU HEAR ME? OUR FAMILY HAS ENOUGH ON ITS PLATE WITHOUT US BEING CONNECTED WITH THAT SORT OF PEOPLE! YOU GET YOUR PRIORITIES IN ORDER, YOUNG LADY, OR I’LL BRING YOU STRAIGHT HOME! Oh, and thank you Ron, for telling me about your sister’s horrible behavior.”
Ron was watching Ginny smugly from across the table, and she just burned to wipe that look of his face. Instead, she calmly scraped the last spoonful of porridge into her mouth as the Howler curled into ash.
“She’s really losing her touch, isn’t she? It’s not nearly as bad as that one she sent you in second year.”
She rose from the table and left the Great Hall, whispers and pointing following her up the marble staircase.
“She and Malfoy?”
Ginny sat absentmindedly at the piano and began sight-reading. The sheet music on the stand was relatively simple, and the melody line was easy to pick up. Within a few bars, Ginny recognized Andrew Lloyd Webber's Tell Me On a Sunday.
When she was about halfway through the song, the door to the practice room opened to admit Draco Malfoy, followed by Patrick. A thick silence fell as the two students stared at each other, and during which the musical director closed the door and nudged Draco further into the room.
“You said you wanted to talk to me,” the blond Slytherin said, his tone slightly accusatory.
“I do,” Patrick replied easily, pushing him into a chair right in front of the piano. “Both of you. You’re obviously not at ease with each other, and you have to be able to get along if this show is going to be any good.
Ginny rose from where the piano bench and folded herself into a chair, looking at Patrick suspiciously.
“So what are we doing?”
“You’re getting to know each other. I’m going to ask questions that you two are going to answer in complete honesty.”
Draco stood to leave and Patrick’s tone turned sharp.
“Take one step outside that door and you can turn in your script now.”
For a moment, Draco looked as though the loss of his part would be a small price to pay, but he sullenly returned to his seat.
Patrick nodded approvingly. “Good. Now, Ginny, you’re first. Why were you attracted to this musical?”
She shrugged. “I love music. I love everything to do with it. Christine Daae has always been my dream part, and I figured if I auditioned I could at least say I tried.”
“Why do you love music so much?”
Ginny’s brow furrowed. “I don’t really know how to describe it. Music is so beautiful, and it really touches people. So many emotions can be expressed through it, emotions that you wouldn’t want to just say outright.”
“Good, good. Draco?”
“What she said.”
Patrick sighed. “Alright, Draco, why don’t you like Ginny?”
Draco snorted with disdain. “She’s a blood traitor. She’s a pureblood witch with a lot of potential, but she insists on following the steps of that worthless father of hers.”
“Ginny, why do you dislike Draco?”
“He thinks he’s better than everyone else,” Ginny said, looking straight at Draco with her nose crinkled in disgust. “He’s a pureblood with a lot of potential, but he insists on following the steps of his worthless father.”
“Why do you consort with those that Draco deems 'unworthy'?”
“Why not? Determining a person’s value from the family they’re born into is just stupid, not to mention illogical. I mean, look at Hermione; she’s muggleborn, but the smartest witch in the entire school! So-called ‘birthright’ should have no significance in today’s culture.”
“Draco, why do you feel you’re better than everyone else?”
“Birthright. Despite the little Weaslette’s claims, lineage does matter. Why else would Slytherin accept only people of wizarding descent?”
“Because you’re a bunch of conceited prigs who-”
Patrick looked at her sharply, and she shut her mouth.
“Ginny, have you ever felt anything besides loathing for Draco?”
“No,” she said, a little too quickly.
“Remember, I want you to be completely honest.”
Ginny sighed heavily and obviously. “Well. . . yes, if you must know. He really is good-looking, and he can be nice when he tries to be.” Her face was glowing crimson, but she was looking at Draco with something akin to pity in her eyes.
“Draco?”
The Malfoy snorted, superb disdain on his face. “Anything but loathing? For the Weaslette? You’re off your rocker, Patrick, you really are.”
“Complete honesty, Draco.”
“I can hardly bring myself to tolerate her.”
Ginny calmly drew her wand and pointed it in her co-star’s direction. “Draco, do you remember that lovely Bat Bogey Hex that I excel at?”
She didn’t give him a chance to answer.
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