If you are reading this right now, that means that you haven't given up on me and this fic, despite the fact that I'm the WORST UPDATER EVER. I'm really sorry about the length of time it takes to get this chapters up, but... I've already started the next chapter, so there won't be as much of a wait for the next update.
Quick thank you to all those awesome people who helped me with my dramatic grammar flailing on my LJ, your help is the reason this chapter got posted this week!
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Chapter 10: Stubborn Denials of Obvious Truths
Ginny watched Malfoy stalking away from her in dumbfounded silence, wondering what she'd done now to warrant the challenge he'd just issued her. At least that was what she was thinking until a very loud and shrill shriek pierced the air as the murmurings of those who had been standing around and had heard what Malfoy had demanded reached the ears of Pansy Parkinson.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM? What kind of curse did you cast on him? Or was it a love potion? That must be it! They’re strictly forbidden and the punishment is life in Azkaban!" she shrieked, pushing her way manically through the crowd, until she stumbled forward, grabbing Ginny by the shoulders and shaking her. Taken aback and slightly afraid at the hysterical look in Pansy's eyes, Ginny shrugged free of her grip and stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.
"That's just regular behaviour for Malfoy, what are you on about Parkinson?" she cried, feeling confused. Obviously, Pansy hadn't heard him properly. Hadn't he just been challenging to her a duel or something equally ridiculous as retribution for whatever wrong she'd committed against him lately? If that was the case, then there was no reason for Pansy to be hysterically demanding to know what Ginny had "done" to Malfoy.
"If you expect me to believe that Draco Malfoy asking something like you out is regular behaviour, you must think I'm an idiot!" Pansy shrieked. "Just who do you think you are?"
Ginny let out a giant burst of laughter, throwing her head back and laughing so hard, her stomach started to hurt and tears stung her eyes. She had never heard anything more ludicrous in her life. Gasping for breath, she covered her mouth, trying to reign in her laughter as Pansy glared at her murderously, looking just about ready to Avada Kedavra her.
"Is that what you think that was? Bloody hell, Parkinson, this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. Let's keep the discussion in the realm of the plausible, shall we? Have you hit your head on something? Because that obviously wasn't him asking me out, because that would... that would just be insane," Ginny said incredulously, unable to believe how deluded Parkinson had become. Obviously, Ginny's continued (and reluctant) involvement with the Slytherins and the group of important people that surrounded them had really started to take its toll on Pansy's sanity. She looked around; a group of students had gathered around them, staring at her with serious expressions, obviously not seeing the humour in the situation. Even more disconcerting where the expression of loathing jealousy on a fair number of her fellow female students, which she found rather startling. Jealous of Ginny Weasley? It was unheard of!
Slowly, as silence descended over the crowded location, Ginny's humour slipped away and a sinking feeling came over her.
"...You can't be serious! Why would he... of course he wouldn't!"
"We all heard it, so you can stop pretending to be so innocent," Milicent Bulstrode said coldly, but Ginny was too busy feeling as if she'd been struck by lightning to really notice. She replayed the scene that had just passed, trying to figure where they were getting this ridiculous notion.
"Has everyone gone insane??" she cried, frustrated. Ignoring the staring crowd, she pushed her way past them and ran down the street she'd seen Malfoy take, as he stalked away. She spotted his tall form up ahead and called to him. He froze as she called his name, and turned towards her, awkwardly trying to appear nonchalant.
"Question, weasel?" he asked calmly, a neutral expression on his face even as his fingers were fidgeting. Noticing, he quickly folded his arms across his chest. Ginny stalked towards him, wondering if she was hallucinating. He seemed nervous and the self-certainty that he ordinarily exuded seemed to have disappeared. She glared at him, trying to assess the situation.
"Er...What you said just now... about Saturday...what was that all about?" she asked awkwardly. "Because everyone heard you, and they are completely misinterpreting what you said as something so completely ridiculous and outside the realm of possibility..."
"What is it that they think I said?" he asked, and Ginny felt her frustration peak. Couldn't he just be direct and save them both a great deal of discomfort?
"They all think you asked me out!" she blurted out, sounding completely exasperated, but at this point, she didn’t care what his reaction was to her tone. "Parkinson's practically in hysterics over it."
"What do you think I said?" he asked, looking away from her.
"It sounded like you were challenging me - no, ordering me - to a bloody duel! So, you can see the confusion, regarding their interpretation and my own over what was said," she said snapped. She was startled when he seemed to be struggling not to smile.
"And it's completely out of the realm of possibility?" he asked, eyebrows raised teasingly.
"Which one?" she demanded, confused. "Because if it was the latter, you have quite a bit to learn about when it comes to women - ordering us to do something is a never-failing means to compel us to do the exact opposite. Also, if you were asking me out, it's rather inconvenient, considering the fact that I've sworn to hate you my entire life. And if it was the former, the only thing outside the realm of possibility is the fact that it hasn't happened before."
He was smiling now, his arrogance completely restored as he looked down at her in silence with that expression in his eyes that always made her want to fidget under his scrutiny.
"Either way, I suppose, you are right about one thing. It is a challenge. But, as for the rest?" he said, smirking proudly. "You'll have to wait until Saturday to find that out...It’s part of the challenge."
He walked away, leaving Ginny fuming, wondering if this was just another one of his plots to torture her. Because it was definitely working, as her outrage and frustration over the situation competed with her insatiable curiosity. And the fact that now that he had really issued a challenge, she was left with no choice but to go.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Malfoy, but I work Saturday," she hollered after him defiantly. He just waved at her over his shoulder, dismissing her protestation as if it were simply a stray fly. She scoffed at his arrogance, which gave her a few seconds of relief before her confusion returned.
Despite the chaotic turn of events her life had undergone in a few short weeks, this development was quite possibly the most baffling of them all.
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“So, what are you going to do?” Hermione asked her, an inquisitive expression on her face as she watched Ginny pace around, distraught. “Are you going to show up on Saturday?”
“Why, so he can curse me then laugh at my naiveté for actually showing up?” Ginny snapped.
“No, to find out what he wants. What happens if Parkinson was right and he really was asking you out?” Hermione asked thoughtfully, ignoring Ginny’s hostile attitude. Ginny sighed dramatically.
“Considering Parkinson is a raving lunatic, I find it hard to believe anything she has to say. And, besides! It hardly matters whether or not he was truly asking me out. Are we forgetting that this is someone I hate and who is the last person I’d ever date?” Ginny exclaimed loudly. She looked around her, grateful that she’d been able to hold out until the end of their shift before she broke down and spilled all the sordid details of the entire incident to her best friend, which meant that she was free to speak without an audience around to overhear their entire conversation. Hermione was her characteristically analytical self, listening calmly to all the details and peppering Ginny with questions as she spoke, frowning in concentration as she heard the answers.
“Are you so sure that he’s someone you hate?” Hermione asked, with that infuriating all-knowing look on her face.
“Of course I hate him! Do you want me to go through the list of reasons why?” Ginny cried out in indignation. “Ever since Claire accidentally bumped into him, he’s made my life completely miserable! Shall I remind you that his goons have been plaguing me with petty practical jokes, tripping me, tricking my professors into thinking I’ve been cheating on tests and using that awful skirt-shrinking charm every time I have my back turned? Then there are the two Slytherins who… who pulled me into that classroom and we both know how that turned out… And there’s the way that he’s always watching me with that knowing smirk, how he’s always teasing me to get me going and then laughing at me when I react exactly how he wanted me to! Not to mention that incident with the Whomping Willow and my broken wrist!”
“Don’t forget the kiss at Cho Chang’s party,” Hermione chimed in. Ginny froze, giving her friend a wary glance. She hadn’t told Hermione about what had happened after the practical joke mistletoe incident, how he’d followed her out to the garden or how he’d kissed her again. In a fairy garden. Bathed in moonlight.
“Wh-what about it?” Ginny stammered, her hands fumbling as she bent to pick up empty glasses left on the bar, almost knocking them over.
“Isn’t that just another reason for you to hate him?” Hermione asked with a frown. “Especially after all your romantic notions about your first kiss and all.”
“Of course it’s another reason I hate him,” she cried. I especially hate the fact that I can’t forget about it, she thought to herself. “Why would I consider going to meet him, considering all these facts? Besides, I’m working Saturday, so even if I wanted to go – which I don’t – I couldn’t.”
“There you two are! I though you would’ve been finished by now, girls,” Madame Rosmerta said, barely looking up from the stack of papers in her hands. “Oh, and Ginny? I’ve cancelled your shift Saturday.”
“What? Why?” Ginny cried, her heart pounding as she remembered the casual way that Malfoy had waved off her protestations that she had to work Saturday afternoon. Did he have something to do with this?
“Business has been slow. With all this extra security around town, people are more reluctant to be out on the street or in public places,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “I can’t wait until they catch this fugitive and our lives can get back to normal.”
“And that’s the only reason?” Ginny asked warily.
“Well, that and your mother has a rather nasty habit of sending me Howlers if she thinks you’ve been working too much. Take the day, have fun, be a teenager for an afternoon. It’ll do you good,” she said with a kind smile as she walked back into the kitchen, probably heading towards her office to finish the closing paperwork.
“Well, now you have a choice to make, Ginny. You can either show up to meet Malfoy… or you can hang out with me on Saturday. I also have the day off. I was going to go to the bookstore and…”
“And you can’t buy the textbooks you want to bury your nose in for a few days without a pureblood to sign off on the forms for you,” Ginny responded with a smile. Access to magical texts was restricted to anyone who wasn’t from a wizarding family, and for Muggleborns wanting to learn about magic, it was very difficult to get their hands on the necessary texts. One of the reasons that Ginny and Hermione had become such good friends was that Ginny was more than willing to completely disregard all the rules that she thought were ridiculous and kept the studious girl happily supplied with all the texts she could possibly want.
“Well, yes, but we also haven’t had a day to ourselves since last year, and it would be nice,” she said sheepishly. Ginny grinned mischievously, spotting an excellent opportunity to tease her friend.
“We did have time to ourselves this summer, but someone preferred to spend her vacation at the Burrow bickering with my knobby brother,” Ginny said with a knowing look.
“If he wasn’t so bloody stubborn… and reckless! Him and that friend of his, the one with the glasses… they’ll get themselves killed one day with all the rules they break! Rules are there for a reason – beyond being broken, of course – and I certainly refuse to take part in any of it,” Hermione retorted primly, her cheeks growing pink. Ginny laughed.
“Shall I remind you about your opinion with regards to rules while I’m buying you restricted magic books?” Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s different, these are books. It’s for… for a higher, nobler purpose – education and knowledge! Breaking the rules just so they can go off and practice that little game of theirs is inexcusable,” Hermione declared indignantly. Ginny laughed, knowing her friend’s passionate opinions about books.
“Of course it’s different…. You know what, Hermione? I think you’re absolutely right. I should just forget all about Malfoy and this whole ridiculous mess and just spend the day with you,” Ginny declared. She paused, and then sighed heavily. “Try to remember who I am. He’s got me all twisted.”
“Your thoughts on Malfoy seemed very black and white a few minutes ago, as you were declaring your eternal hatred for him.”
“Yes, of course…but… he does horrible things, but then he does something that’s not so horrible and it’s confusing.”
“Like when he healed your arm after the Whomping Willow incident?” Hermione asked.
“He was acting so strange then. It was like he was teasing me but that he was also concerned and angry with me for getting myself hurt, but trying to hide it with the teasing. And the other night… after I left All Hallows… he followed me down that alley, and if he hadn’t been there… well, it could have been really bad. But he was there…” Ginny trailed off, lost in thought. She looked up, a frown on her face, looking perplexed. “It sounds ridiculous, considering how much I hate him and all, but I was actually relieved when I realized he was there. Standing outside, in a dark street in the dodgy end of town with bloody Draco Malfoy, and I actually felt safe.”
“Ginny… remember that list you just rattled off about why you hate him,” Hermione said softly. “I really think you should be more careful around him.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right, but he has me all knocked off balance, and that’s what I hate most about him,” Ginny said. She sighed. “So, we are definitely on for Saturday.”
As Ginny continued cleaning off the tables, Hermione watched her friend as she moved about, and couldn’t help but notice how distracted and jumpy she was.
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As soon as she walked into the study, Tonks was overwhelmed by a sweltering wave of heat. She gasped, causing her cousin to look up from the piece of parchment he was scribbling on.
“My god, Draco, why is it so bloody hot in here?” she exclaimed, her eyes narrowing in on the blazing fire burning in the fireplace, feeling as if she was suffocating from the oppressive temperature. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright and glassy.
“I was cold. It’s always rather damp in the house around this time of year. Won’t be long before the snow starts,” he said, distractedly as he looked down at what he was writing.
“Are you feeling alright?” she asked, slightly taken aback by how odd he looked. He looked positively feverish.
“Of course I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice sounding raspy and dry. Tonks scoffed, but growing up in that house, she was well-versed in the temperaments of Malfoy males, and knew he’d never admit it even if he was feeling as terrible as he looked.
“You should take a potion. You don’t want to get sick and miss your big date tomorrow,” she said with a smirk. His head snapped up, his eyes flashing in anger. “Oh, come on, Draco. You demand her presence – on threat of death – in front of an entire crowd and you think I’m not going to find out about it?”
“I thought I ordered the house elves to throw you out this morning. Customary practice for unwanted house guests who overstay their welcome,” he said petulantly, leaning back in his chair.
“Unfortunately for you, the house elves are terrified of me and would rather see you in a fury than me,” Tonks said with a cheeky smile. “Now, dear cousin, I think I should give you a quick lesson in romantic etiquette, as you demonstrably have absolutely no idea how you should act while asking a girl out. Someone told me she actually thought you were challenging her to a duel. A duel, Draco! You’ll be very lucky if she actually shows up.”
“She wouldn’t dare stand me up. Malfoys are never stood up,” he mumbled, continuing to write on his parchment. “And I don’t need any romantic advice from you as you haven’t exactly had a stellar record in that area.”
Tonks froze and a look of pain flashed on her face before she managed to regain her composure.
“Speaking of such pleasant topics, I received an owl from your mother this afternoon. She’s been hearing some rumors about your love life and demanded any information I might have,” Tonks said, her voice suddenly serious. Draco looked up, his eyes dark with concern. Tonks noted how openly he was showing his emotions and decided he really must not be feeling right, to show such a degree of vulnerability.
“What was she asking about?” he asked carefully.
“She just heard that Angelique Aristide put in an appearance at Cho’s party a few weeks ago and wanted to know if you two have reconciled yet,” Tonks said, and Draco snorted.
“Fat chance of that ever happening. Not after what she did,” he scoffed angrily. Tonks nodded knowingly before she leaned forward, catching his eyes.
“She doesn’t know anything about Weasley. Yet.”
“There’s nothing to know. I’ve only challenged Weasley to a duel, after all,” he said with a pointed look, and Tonks had to bite back a proud smile. It never ceased to amaze her how much he fit the textbook description on a Slytherin – scheming and plotting two steps ahead of everyone else. “What did you tell her about Angelique?”
“Only that I couldn’t understand why she was so eager to see her son with that kind of girl, despite her family’s reputation,” Tonks said. “Well, her rage over that my exact choice of wording will buy you some time before she reasserts herself into your love life.”
“Once she accepts that there is no possibility of that ever happening, we’ll both be happier,” Draco said with a heavy sigh.
“Unfortunately, mutual happiness isn’t a consideration in Nacrissa’s plans, that much I can tell you,” Tonks said, her voice hard with bitterness. Draco met her eyes and nodded slowly. “What are you working on?”
“Paper for Potions,” he said dismissively.
“Speaking of potions, you should really take one, you look terrible,” Tonks said as she left the room.
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Ginny cast one last longing look at her new broom, which was sitting unused in the corner, before grabbing her bag, in order to leave for the day. She'd woken up late, after a night of almost constant tossing and turning, and had missed her window of time to test out the Firebolt. Knowing how Hermione felt about flying, she didn't think that she'd be able to convince her to blow off their afternoon plans for shopping and the bookstore in order to spend the day flying. Locking her door as she left, Ginny sighed one more time with regret, but told herself that the opportunity would come Monday morning, as she'd no longer have to walk to Hogwarts as she'd been doing since her former broom’s demise at the hands of Draco Malfoy and his Bludger.
The thought of him made her pause in her tracks, as the swell of anxiety that had caused her restless night reasserted it's presence in her stomach. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths while smoothing her hands over her skirt, trying to dry her clammy palms. She had been unable to shake the anxious feeling that had been plaguing since the afternoon Cho had left, and her nerves were incredibly jittery. Ginny kept telling herself that she had nothing but a lovely afternoon with her best friend ahead of her, and that was certainly nothing to be anxious about, but it did little to alleviate her anxious nerves. Gritting her teeth, Ginny strode down the hall, heading for the stairs that would lead her down the street, determined that she would have a glorious, relaxing day and nothing was going to prevent that from happening.
She sighed as she stepped outside, inhaling the crisp air rich with the scent of snow. The bite in the air and clouds overhead indicated the possibility of snow and Ginny's heart leapt at the thought. Her mother had often told her how lovely Hogsmeade had been when Molly had been a student at Hogwarts and Ginny always found this hard to believe - the city had grown so rapidly after Voldemort had risen to power that most of the newer buildings were all built in a hurry and with little thought to aesthetics, and Ginny always felt that beyond the downtown core, it was just a tired, sad old city. Except when the first few snow falls of the season came, blanketing the dinginess with pure white. It was the only time that Ginny could see what it might have looked like when her parents were her age, and it always made her feel closer to them.
Ginny glanced up the street, and could see Hermione walking towards her, a scolding look on her face. She trotted towards her, smiling apologetically.
"Sorry, I overslept," Ginny called out.
"Ginny, you look really nice today! We're just going to the bookstore!" Hermione exclaimed, her sharp eye giving Ginny a once over. Ginny laughed in surprise, as she'd thrown together whatever she could find as she was running late, practically tearing her room apart searching for a pair of jeans. She'd settled on an old denim skirt and a bright purple sweater, figuring that no one would take much notice of her outfit once she threw her black Hogwarts robe on over top of it.
"Well, my mum's old scarf really completes the look," she said, mockingly striking a pose, holding up a tattered end of the second-hand scarf knitted in Gryffindor colours. Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"You're wearing your hair down, that's what I meant. You hardly ever do, it looks nice," she explained. Ginny paused, that inexplicable anxious feeling overwhelming her again before she tried to shrug it off. Hermione was an observant girl, and if she noticed Ginny acting as if something was wrong, she'd ask about it, and that would inevitably lead the girls to a long and involved discussion about Draco Malfoy and Ginny desperately wanted to avoid having to talk or think about him. Especially today.
"That's because I'm off today! No work, no school, no need or desire to reasonable, practical or efficient with either my time or my appearance," Ginny said joyously. "Plus, Pansy's not around to irritate with my poor style choices, which takes away most of the appeal of wearing a braid, anyway."
"You really shouldn't antagonize her..." Hermione said, with a shake of her head.
"She started it!" Ginny protested.
"Shall we go, or should I wait until your maturity level drops a little bit lower?" Hermione shot back, with a smile on her face.
"Certainly. We can't let all those books go unread any longer than necessary!" Ginny cried, pulling her friend's arm along with her as she started to run down the street, suddenly feeling light-hearted and free as she tried to dash away from her worries.
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Ginny and Hermione were strolling down the street, later on that afternoon, each carrying a rather hefty sack of books, laughing breezily as they went. Ginny's spirits were high; she'd seen Snape in the bookstore, and the shocked expression on his face had been absolutely priceless. He seemed to work so hard towards convincing himself that she was a poor student that rarely ever cracked open a book, that seeing her in the bookstore carrying heavy tomes of potion books (Hermione's current magical obsession) had been rather shocking to him. So shocking, in fact, that he'd hardly even attempted any type of cutting remark - he'd simply just sneered and stormed away, causing the two girls to erupt into giggles.
Even now, a full hour later, Hermione or Ginny would look at the other with an exaggerated impression of his look of sheer surprise, causing the other to start giggling all over again.
"'Mione, stop! Oh, it hurts," Ginny protested breathlessly, nearly dropping the bag she was struggling to hold on to, her stomach aching with the prolonged bouts of laughter. She slipped, her shoes losing some of their traction on the fresh layer of snow that had fallen during the hours they'd been browsing in the bookstore, causing the two of them to shriek with laughter, their moods having completely run away with them.
“Ooh, look, it’s snowing again!” Hermione declared breathlessly, as she struggled to catch her breath as the giggles finally started to fade away. Ginny looked up – in the late afternoon, the street lamps had come on, casting a warm glow as the sun had started to set, a reminder that winter was certainly on its way. Large fluffy flakes were falling and Ginny breathed in greedily, afraid the peace and beauty of that moment would disappear all too quickly.
“I’m so glad I came with you today,” she said quietly, casting a smile at Hermione. Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Well, of course you are, when considering your alternative choices,” she scoffed. Ginny, who had managed to push all thoughts of Draco Malfoy out of her head up until that point, felt her stomach twist, and couldn’t help but check her watch – one o’clock had come and gone hours ago. He was probably plotting what form his revenge for her would take. Ginny stopped in her tracks, wondering what he would do to someone who had already received a Howler, and shivered slightly. He would, undoubtedly, be furious. She wondered how long it would have taken him to give up and realize that she wasn’t going to show – she’d bet that it was less than five minutes.
“Ginny?” Hermione asked tentatively, noticing that the other girl’s attention had drifted off. Ginny started, before turning to her friend, trying to drum up some excuse for why she’d drifted off without having to confess that she’d been thinking of him, not when the entire object of the day’s activities had been designed to keep her from thinking of him and feeling that strange sensation of guilt in the pit of her stomach when she thought of how he might have reacted, waiting for her in the town square. Luckily, she was saved from having to lie to her best friend’s face when a voice from down the street called out to them.
“Oy, Ginny! Over here!” Tonks called, waving frantically as she trotted towards the two girls. Ginny felt her shoulders stiffen as Malfoy’s cousin ran up to her, desperately trying to decide how she should act around her, panicking as her mind drew a blank.
“Hello, Tonks,” she said awkwardly.
“I guess running into you here means that my idiotic cousin finally admitted defeat and went home sick? I kept telling him he should just take a potion and be done with it, but he’s so bloody stubborn. I guess it serves him right to have this day ruined, maybe it’ll teach him the lesson that his “superior” Malfoy genes aren’t as immune to the common cold as he likes to believe,” Tonks said, barely pausing for breath before continuing. “Although, it really does all make sense now, you know. After he came home that one afternoon and started asking all those questions about sacrificing your pride for love, and then using my advice to send Blaise off after Cho Chang, I thought he’d lost his mind – or maybe even gained some sense, but it turns out he was just feverish and acting out of his right mind!”
Ginny blinked in shock and was having a great deal of difficulty processing what Tonks had just rattled off to her. She lunged forward, grabbing the older woman’s arm, to pull her attention before she launched into another long dialogue.
“What do you mean, he sent Blaise off after Cho?” she demanded, feeling her hands start to tremble.
“Just that. Blaise was set to sulk and watch the girl he loves walk out of his life without any kind of fight, until that block-headed cousin of mine marched over there and lectured him – using the very lecture I gave him the night before. Took credit for it, too, I suppose,” Tonks muttered, her eyes narrowed, but Ginny hardly noticed. She was too busy filling in the pieces, answering the one thing she’d never understood about Blaise’s departure.
The day before, the day he’d yelled at her, he seemed bound and determine to play the martyr, to just let Cho walk away. And the next day, he’d suddenly changed his mind, and it had never made any sense to her. But now, with this new piece of information from Tonks, a possibility she’d never have believed if it had come from any other source entered her mind. It had been Malfoy, the selfish, conceited bastard who had advised Blaise to go after what he wanted, to fight for it. Ginny was feeling dizzy at the thought, and looked down at her wrist, the one that she’d broken, realizing for the first time that she’d been clenching and unclenching her fist as her mind tried to work through this new piece of information. On top of the fact that he had some twisted kind of nice side to his personality (he had healed her, after all), it now seemed that there was a bit of a romantic streak in him, as well.
“Maybe we’re not all that different after all,” she said, barely aware that she’d spoken aloud, as engrossed as she was in trying to make sure she didn’t fall over, what with the way her world had just flipped upside down. A flutter of anxiousness had just swept over her body and it was all she could do to remain standing still.
“Ginny, are you alright?” Hermione asked, obviously perplexed. Ginny turned to her suddenly, thrusting her hefty sack of books into her friend’s hands, looking dazed and shocked.
“Sorry, Hermione, there’s something I have to do,” she said distractedly, as Hermione struggled to grab hold of the bag before Ginny took off at a dead run down the street, slipping slightly in the slippery snow. Hermione watched her friend run off in surprise, before casting a withering glance at the other woman standing with her.
“You know she didn’t show up this afternoon,” Hermione said neutrally. Tonks laughed.
“Of course she didn’t! No girl in her right mind would, after everything that moron has done. But she didn’t have all the facts before,” Tonks said, with a satisfied smile. “Now they have a level playing field, a chance at a fresh start.”
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A thousand thoughts were running through her head as she ran, the cold air stinging her cheeks. A dozen times, she almost stopped, telling herself how ridiculous and pointless it was for her to be rushing there, as there was absolutely no chance that he was going to still be there, waiting for her. And even if he was, what then? He was her mortal enemy, her nemesis, the person whose arrogance and conceit had turned her boring, peaceful world completely upside down. There was no reason she’d ever want to spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary.
By the time she reached the town square, she was breathless from running, and her heart was pounding in her chest as she nervously scanned the area. It was fairly deserted, now that it was growing dark and it had started snowing again, and only a few stragglers remained sitting on the benches. She twirled around, looking all about her, not sure if she even wanted to find him while a small part of her kept her holding her breath, desperate to find out if he had actually waited.
Suddenly, she felt someone take her arm and she was forcefully turned around, their grip tight on her arm. Flustered and caught off guard, she struggled to pull away, preparing to scream for help as her assailant stubbornly held on.
“You’re late,” a cold voice snapped, causing Ginny to stop her struggle as she looked up in shock to realize who it was. Seconds that felt like hours passed, as she stared up at him, unable to speak and hardly able to believe that Draco Malfoy had waited all that time for her. He was glaring down at her with a murderous expression on his face, his usually pale face tinged red from the cold. She wrenched her arm away, and stumbled a bit from the force, feeling her temper flare for no other reason than the accusatory way he was looking at her with that look, the one which had such an immobilizing effect on her powers of speech.
“Who agreed to come? It’s your own fault for being arrogant enough to think that anyone would after that horrible display!” Ginny retorted, trying to recompose herself, despite all the flutters of emotion she was experiencing. Malfoy, dressed all in black, glared at her while crossing his arms petulantly across his chest and smiling arrogantly at her as he ran his eyes over her, making her want to squirm.
“You’re here now, aren’t you?” he asked, with a knowing look that almost had her reaching for her wand as her mind conjured up the perfect curse to put an end to that infernal smirk. Before she could react, though, he was grabbing her hand again and marching off, pulling her along with him. “Let’s go, we’re very late.”
“Wait! Wait just a minute!” she cried, struggling to free herself from his grasp. “I never said that I would go anywhere with you!”
“Then why did you come?” he asked over his shoulder. She cursed, digging her heels into the ground, trying to prevent herself from being dragged along with him. He stopped, and spun around, releasing her arm as he leaned over her, his tall form and stony facial expression very imposing as he stared down her defiance. “I realize that because you come from such a poor family, you might not have been taught some of the finer points of social etiquette and I’m willing to overlook that – to a certain extent. In general, when one is late for an engagement, they do not act like a saucy brat and create even further difficulties.”
“I am not acting like a saucy brat! You are assuming far too much, I didn’t come here to go anywhere with you, I…” she trailed off, unable to remember exactly why she had come running to this spot. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively, waiting for her explanation. “… I just wanted to see if you were still sitting around here, waiting, like an idiot!”
“I was planning on waiting another ten minutes, and then I was going to kill you,” he said, nonchalantly, reaching for her hand again, trying to lead her forward. She snatched it back as if she’d been burned, disappointed that all her bluster had been so effortlessly swatted away with his one comment. She searched his face, searching for some hint of humor, some sign to indicate that that last comment had been mere hyperbole, but he was as stony-faced as ever, and she could detect nothing. “I have been waiting for you, in this infernal snow, all bloody afternoon. The least you could do is come along without putting on such a fuss. You are coming, whether you want to or not, but it’ll be a long walk if you continue to act like such a shrew, and it’s cold. I want to get there as quickly as possible.”
“I guess I do owe you that much,” she muttered with annoyance, her curiosity about their destination getting the better of her.
“Then hurry up!” he snapped, marching off in front of her. She stared at his back, wanting nothing more than to scoop a handful of soggy snow from the ground and toss it at his back, the arrogant conceited git. “Come along, little weasel!”
“I’m going to kill him, I’m going to pull out my wand and Avada Kedavra him and it’s going to be the single most satisfying moment of my life,” she muttered grumpily under her breath, as her feet moved her unwilling body forward, struggling to catch up with his long strides.
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“Why have you brought me here?” Ginny demanded, casting a withering look in Malfoy’s direction before turning back to face the Quidditch pitch.
“Dragged you. I didn’t bring you here, I had to drag you,” he corrected grumpily, assessing the damage she’d done to his sleeve, with all her twisting and clawing attempts to liberate her arm from the iron-tight grip he had on it.
“They why did you drag me here, of all places? I’ve seen the bloody pitch before, thank you,” she said, her face starting to burn as she remembered the various times she’d fled to the pitch in order to vent her outrage over something the boy looming beside her – with his had still burning-hot on her wrists – had done. That thought led her to the time she’d encountered his best friend there, which only made her blush even more. She stared at the pitch, feeling reluctant to be there with Malfoy. It was her refuge – the one place she went to get away from all he did and represented about their world, and to be there with him just seemed so wrong. Of course, she thought to herself wildly, it had nothing to do with the fact that it was also the first place Blaise Zabini had ever spoken to her.
“Just be patient,” he answered. She inhaled deeply, trying to quell her rising temper, and when that had absolutely no effect, she opened her mouth to really let him have it, when she saw a short, swarthy-looking man approaching them as he exited the changing rooms.
“Mr. Malfoy!” he exclaimed, with a look on his face that reminded Ginny of the paralyzing horror that came over some people when they realized there was a Bludger careening straight for their face. “I wasn’t expecting you this afternoon.”
“When we spoke earlier, I informed you that I would be attending the practice,” Malfoy said, sounding annoyed.
“Well…err, yes, you did mention that… but I expected you much earlier in the afternoon. When you never appeared, I just assumed we wouldn’t be honoured with your presence,” the clearly agitated man stuttered.
“Well, we’re here now. If you’d please remove the wards I know the coach insists upon to guard the secrecy of the team’s strategy, we’d like to sit in the stands,” he said. While he’d phrased his words as a request, it was very clearly a demand he did not expect to be refused. Ginny, who’d been watching the exchange curiously then realized that she recognized the nervous man - despite how different he appeared now, she should have been able to recognize him anywhere, given the number of times she’d seen his photo in the Prophet. It was Rufus Bringham, the manager of the professional team, the Chudleigh Cannons, the team that her entire family supported zealously. It was one of the few things that all of her brothers could agree upon. She felt her mouth drop open, and was reeling slightly from the shock of it all.
“Yes, about that… David decided that none of our practices are to be open to the public any longer – seems its been a source of distraction, and that’s what he’s blaming our latest loss on. He’s decided that no one outside the team will be allowed in our practices. I’m terribly sorry, he only informed me of this decision a few hours ago,” Rufus explained, looking as if that was the very last thing he wanted to be doing right at that moment, saying ‘no’ to Draco Malfoy. Ginny, however, was oblivious to the quiet rage burning within her companion as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that she was standing across from a Quidditch legend who’d retired early in order to manage the team he’d never had a chance to play for.
“You mean to say that the Cannons – THE Cannons – practice on our pitch?” she asked, unable to contain her excitement. The knowledge that her Quidditch idols flew the same pitch as she did was almost too much for her to handle. They ignored her excited question, and she realized that Malfoy was glaring at the man in the most intimidating fashion possible.
“I respect that decision, however I do not constitute the ‘public’,” Malfoy spat, sounding disgusted, as if the word had left a bad taste in his mouth. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that my family owns this team?”
“Of course not!” Rufus chirped defensively, looking terrified. Ginny felt her awe of her newly acquired knowledge start to drain away as she watched the scene unfold.
The first Quidditch game she’d ever seen had been a championship game that her father that brought them all to – he’d managed to win a full set of tickets through a contest at the Ministry – and she remembered how awestruck she’d been with the way Rufus Bringham had fearlessly protected his Seeker from any Bludger that approached him. Already a fairly respected Beater, this game had solidified his status as one of the greatest to ever play professionally. By the end of the game, he’d broken his nose, had lost three teeth and appeared to have dislocated his shoulder, although that had never been confirmed by his doctors. He refused to be pulled from the game. Ginny remembered that she, for weeks afterwards, had gazed dreamily at his picture – one that she’d ripped from the newspaper, and which featured his pudgy face and bushy eyebrows in all their glory, complete with a hideously broken nose and two black eyes. She told herself that that was what courage must look like. But now, here she was, watching that very legend being intimidated by an arrogant prat like Malfoy, and only because he worked for his father.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do about it – only David can lower the wards, and he’s refused,” Rufus said.
“That is unacceptable!” Malfoy barked, lunging forward, grabbing the man by his shirt threateningly. Having seen enough and wondering for the hundredth time why she’d ever come to meet him in the first place, Ginny decided it was time to say something.
“What are we doing here anyway? And leave the poor man alone, you pompous brat, he’s only doing his job and that does not give you the right to harass him because you pitch a fit whenever someone tells you ‘no’ to something,” she said, finally wrenching her hand free of his tight grip. Malfoy whipped around, his eyes furious.
“I thought you liked Quidditch! And aren’t the Cannons your favorite team?” he demanded, his tone resonating with his annoyance.
“How on earth would you know that?” Ginny demanded, hardly able to conceive of a moment when she and Draco Malfoy would have stood around all chummy, casually chatting about which professional team she favored the most. At her question, he suddenly froze and looked away huffily, seeming reluctant to answer her question.
“I saw their logo on something you were wearing once,” he mumbled awkwardly, refusing to look at her. Ginny frowned.
“That’s weird, because the only thing I have with their logo on it is that one pair of – oh bloody hell!” she gasped, a cold jolt of horror running down her spine, her eyes wide with surprise. Because the only thing she had with the Cannons logo was the pair of knickers Hermione had given her as a joke for Christmas the year past. “How did you see that??”
“If you weren’t so oblivious to the world, you wouldn’t have been caught by that skirt-shrinking charm so much. The whole school knows what kind of knickers you wear and you have no one to blame but yourself,” he shot back, still not looking at her.
“And whose fault is it that they were even trying to cast that damn charm?? I can’t believe this!” Ginny cried, vowing to herself that if the twins hadn’t yet invented a charm that would allow the earth to open up and swallow her whole, she’d do it herself.
“If there’s anything else I can help you with, be sure to let me know,” Rufus Bringham called out, using their distraction to make his escape, retreating back into the stadium before either of them could say anything else to him. Ginny and Malfoy stared at the close door before turning to each other in awkward silence.
“You realize this is all your fault for being late,” he said gruffly.
“If you were able to maintain some semblance of courtesy and politeness, I wouldn’t have been late!” Ginny retorted defensively, surprised to see her breath frosty in the air. The temperature had dropped significantly since that morning, and Ginny was suddenly grateful that she’d worn her mum’s old ratty scarf. “And what were you trying to do, anyway?”
“You’re poor, aren’t you? But you like Quidditch,” he said casually. Ginny bristled at the matter-of-fact insult, and was about to snap something in response to his insensitive comment, when he continued. “You probably don’t get a chance to see professional Quidditch very often and anyone who claims to love the game just cannot have never seen a real professional team play.”
Ginny stared at him, trying to figure out exactly who was standing in front of her. Draco Malfoy seemed to have innumerable personalities – the cocky jackass who ruled the student body and who threw temper tantrums whenever things didn’t go as he wanted, the all-observant figure that always seemed to be quietly watching her when she least expected it, the gentle and teasing boy that had healed her wrist while joking about her being plain, the vicious and dangerous person who’d led her on a race around the Whomping Willow… and the boy who’d followed her out of Cho’s party after the incident with the spelled mistletoe. And now, here was another one in front of her, someone who was actually quite considerate and had thought about bringing her here because he thought she’d never seen the Cannons play before. He was staring back at her warily, as if trying to gauge her reaction to his explanation. The thing she hated most about Draco Malfoy was his annoying habit of constantly catching her off guard and knocking her off balance. Making a decision she was positive that she would live to regret, she felt it was time for her to return the favor, and knock him off balance for once.
“Well, come along then,” she said, grabbing his hand, and rushing off, leading him towards the school’s main building.
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“Care to explain why we’re breaking into the school, Weasley?” Malfoy asked, sounding mildly amused as she shushed him, glancing around her furtively as she darted out from one of the alcoves that lined the hallway. The hall was dark, empty and eerily quiet. Ginny found it hard to imagine that her parents had ever found this place welcoming enough to still speak of their time as students here in those reverent, nostalgic tones of voice. The place seemed positively cold and gloomy, Ginny couldn’t imagine never leaving or having to call it home.
“If you get me caught, I swear, I will kill you,” Ginny muttered threateningly as she led him forward, lighting their way with her wand. “I’ve been doing with for years and I’ve never been discovered, so please keep your mouth shut.”
“You act as if being at Hogwarts is the worst thing that could ever happen to you, and yet, here you are, a seasoned veteran of infiltrating school grounds,” he commented. Ginny glared at him for speaking, but also because she was disconcerted that he’d picked up on the fact that she hated school more than anything else about her life.
“The Astronomy Tower provides an excellent view of the school grounds,” she whispered. “Including the Quidditch pitch.”
Malfoy stopped in his tracks, and in the dim light, Ginny could see that he looked rather flummoxed by this information, but slowly, he seemed to grow mildly impressed. Ginny regarded him cautiously, unsure what was wrong with him now.
“I didn’t think you were the type,” he said simply, with a knowing grin.
“What do you mean, type?” she demanded as she flounced off, turning left to the staircase that would lead them to the Astronomy Tower.
“The type to break rules in order to gain an advantage on her opponents. You must have gained a lot of insight into the other teams’ strategy and weaknesses while you were up here, where you can see the Quidditch pitch. No wonder Gryffindor has been doing so well lately,” he commented. She laughed, bitterly.
“That’s not at all why I’ve been up here so often. Sorry to disappoint, but the truth is that as much as I love Quidditch, there are many other things I’d rather spend the three Galleons the school started charging as admission to all inter-house games,” she said, as she climbed, her voice infused with a bitter sarcasm. “You can see much better from up here anyway. And, if I happen to accidentally catch a few practices here and there… well, it only added to the appeal.”
“I guess that’s the difference between our two houses, Weasley. While we’re notorious for being deceitful, we are rather open about our penchant for dishonesty, whereas you and your passel of self-righteous Gryffindor act morally superior while hiding the not-so-shiny moral facets of your actions, using the excuse that at least you’re not horrible Slytherins as a way to salvage your rather nagging conscious,” he said with a smirk. Ginny stared at him, unsure what to say, feeling very angry about the way he’d just called her a liar. A self-righteous liar, at that!
“You shouldn’t open your mouth about things you don’t understand,” she mumbled. She swung open the heavy door and led him into the vast emptiness of the Tower. She loved going up there, especially when it was so quietly dark and peaceful on the grounds. It gave whoever went up there a feeling of being suspended in a huge, wide open space – the same freedom that flying gave you.
“I understand more than you think” he said softly, his warm breath tickling her ear as he leaned over behind her as he spoke. “And that’s why I bother you so much.”
“No, you bother me because you know so much and yet you live the life that you do, you do the things that you do to people for no reason other than boredom with your fabulous existence!” Ginny snapped. “Not only do you see and understand what our world is like, but you actively make other people’s lives miserable – that is why I can’t believe I even came with you today.”
“It’s not my responsibility to change the system,” he said, coolly. The gray light from the overcast sky shadowed his face in such a way that he looked ethereally pale, his eyes shining brightly at her.
“You much prefer the status quo, of course, it’s benefited your family remarkably well,” she shouted. His offhand comment – that she chose to ignore the parts of herself that were flawed had opened up a rather large wound, reminding her of all things she found so reprehensible about him and his lifestyle. “I never should have come. I’m going home.”
She stormed towards the door, lost in her anger. She nearly screamed as she felt his arm wind around her waist, yanking her back towards him. Before she could, however, he clamped his other hand over her mouth, causing her to panic. She fought against him, kicking her legs as hard as she could, using her body to struggle against the vise-like grip his strong arms hand her locked in. He was too strong, and easily lifted her off the ground, pulling her away from the door.
“Shut up, Weasley, there’s someone coming,” he muttered hoarsely. She stopped kicking, and squirmed so that he would let her go. She, now that she’d been alerted, could hear the approaching steps and voices.
“You had better hope there was someone up here, Baron, or you’ll find yourself looking for another castle to haunt,” a shrill feminine voice was saying. Ginny looked up at Malfoy – who was still holding her tightly – and tried to convey the seriousness of the situation. For it was none other than the Headmistress who was climbing those steps up to the Tower; Ginny could recognize that voice anywhere. “And you of all people know how haunted this castle is. Getting jumpy over any sighting of strange lights…”
Malfoy’s eyes were darting around the room, as if searching for a miracle solution to their current crisis. It wouldn’t be too terrible for him if he were to be caught, but she couldn’t bear the thought of the troll-sized Howler her mum would send if she were expelled for breaking into the school.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said quietly, locking his eyes on hers. His arm tightly around her, Ginny felt some of her panic dissipate. Despite the argument they’d just had, with that one look, he’d managed to convey that he wasn’t going to let her get caught, that they were in this current crisis together and that she wasn’t alone. Scarcely able to breathe from the impact of that realization, Ginny followed his eyes as he looked away, and felt him move forward, and then she understood where he wanted them to hide.
But she was too late, and before she could say or do anything to protest, he’d pulled her into the small storage closet and had shut the heavy door behind them.
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Draco released the violently squirming girl with a curse, flinching as she landed another well-placed blow to his chest. She fell to the floor and scurried over to a corner, folding herself up into a tight ball without another word. Draco stared at her, incensed. If that’s how she’s going to react every time a bloke tries to save her skin, next time I’ll just let her get caught, he thought angrily.
Of course, she probably didn’t realize just how desperate the situation truly was. He turned away from the bizarre girl he was trapped with, and tried to listen at the door. The heavy oak door wasn’t allowing much sound to penetrate, so he cast a simple charm that his cousin had taught him, from when his parents still lived in Hogsmeade and they’d have “discussions” about “how to handle that unruly girl” while locked away in the library, that augmented his hearing. He leaned against the door and heard the distinctive voice of Bellatrix Lestrange, his aunt and the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
“There is no one up here!” she snapped angrily. “You’ve become rather paranoid ever since I told you about the escaped convict from Azkaban. Even if he did know a way into the castle, why would he come here? He has no quarrel with me – it’s my sister he has the issue with.”
Draco frowned as he listened to his aunt rail against the ghost, chastising the Bloody Baron for rousing her from her afternoon nap. While it would obviously be unfortunate for Weasley to be caught on school grounds off hours, it would be even worse if they were caught together. He looked back over his shoulder, and in the dim light of her wand – which she was holding up in front of her, clutching it desperately with both hands – he could see that something was definitely off with that girl. Her eyes were wildly darting around her and he could tell, even in the dim light, that her breathing had become fairly laboured. He turned his attention back to what was happening beyond the door, listening to his eccentric aunt argue with the ghost who had become her trusted advisor, especially after the Headmaster’s office had ejected her and barred her from returning after she’d tried to remove and destroy the portraits of past Headmasters whose politics she did not agree with.
“You said you saw lights and heard a door opening?” she was demanding. “You know how the wind howls through this part of the castle, that’s probably what you heard. I really wish you’d stop being so paranoid.”
Draco smiled to himself, having heard countless whispered rumours about his aunt’s sanity. According to the tales, there was some task she’d committed upon the Dark Lord’s orders, and it had weighed so greatly on her conscious that she hadn’t been the same ever since. Even her husband had become so skeptical of her sanity that he’d left her to live in London, leaving her alone in the castle to wander about, trusting only ghosts whom she blamed for all of her own paranoid fears. Draco, however, simply used her eccentricity and their family connection to have his way at Hogwarts. Hearing her now, he was relieved to note she was as badly off as everyone assumed and if he and Weasley were caught, he’d have a good chance of creating some story so that others – his parents, in particular – did not hear of their association.
“Do you have any other suspicions about trespassers to look into, or can I return to my room?” she snapped coldly, sounding so much like his mother that he almost shivered. But then he heard the comforting sound of her footsteps walking away, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned back to Weasley, triumphant that his idea had worked out so well, and immediately noted that she looked as mad as his aunt was rumored to be.
She’d backed herself right into the corner, having dropped her wand on the floor. Her arms were pushing against the walls, as if trying to keep them from caving in around her and she was gasping for breath wildly. He was taken aback by this display, having been completely oblivious to the fact that she had been quietly having a complete nervous breakdown while he’d been focusing on his aunt beyond the door. He walked over to her cautiously, his legs feeling heavy, and crouched down in front of her, deciding it was best not to touch her.
“Weasley?” he asked gently, his experience with the frantic women in his life having taught him to proceed carefully. “Are you alright?”
“The door… the door, the door… we need to open the door,” she said breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s too small, too small in here. Not enough air, not enough space, it’s too small.”
Her eyes were staring straight ahead of her, blank and glassy, obviously not seeing him at all. Draco stood up, looking down on the girl in the midst of a serious fit of panic, and darted towards the door, hardly caring if either of them were caught now. She looked positively terrified, and he was helpless to stop it in any way, save getting her out of there. He turned and ran the few steps to the door and slammed his shoulder against it, forgetting to turn the knob in his haste.
He reached down and tried to turn the door knob, and felt his heart drop. It wouldn’t budge. Glancing over his shoulder to ensure she was still occupied because he didn’t want to alarm her any further, he pulled out his wand and tried using Alohamora to unlock the door. He hissed as the spell rebounded, singeing his fingers. Of course, his paranoid aunt would ensure that all locks, even ones to insignificant broom closets, couldn’t be spelled open.
Draco turned back to Weasley, watching hopelessly as she struggled against whatever demons were putting her in such a state, and tried to figure out how he was either going to get her out of there or deliver the bad news without sacrificing a limb – because she looked ready to tear something apart in a fit of hysteria and he was currently the most readily available object in the room.
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The walls were caving in on her, and with every breath she took, there was less air and the walls moved in even further, so she needed to stop breathing, to stop the flood of fear that was taking over her body. She needed to move, to stand up and walk to the door, because Malfoy was there, opening it for her so she could escape this little room, with its collapsing walls and limited amounts of air.
It had all happened so fast – the small dark space, hearing that voice beyond the door, all while she had already been in a panicked state. The dark room was starting to spin and she felt like she was either going to start screaming or suffocating, she wasn’t sure which yet. She heard banging, looking up to see Malfoy kicking at the door, her vision starting to swim when he turned around with a resigned expression on his face.
“The door is locked. We can’t get out that way,” he said. Ginny closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down, to breath slowly, to forget where she was.
“I knew this was a huge mistake,” she gasped, opening her eyes as Malfoy grabbed her hand.
“Well, come on then. We’ll just Apparate out of here,” he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
“Don’t you know anything? You can’t Apparate anywhere on the school grounds,” she said, her voice shrill from her emotions. Her eyes were beginning to well up with tears that she couldn’t control and she edged further back into the corner, feeling the cold stone wall press against her skin.
“How do you know that?” he asked skeptically.
“Hogwarts: A History. There’s an entire chapter devoted to it,” she replied, feeling the tight bands of fear that had wrapped around her chest loosen slightly as she remembered Hermione’s insistence that she read the book.
“Wasn’t that banned years ago?”
“I break rules and act morally superior while doing so, remember? It was only banned because it portrayed Salazar Slytherin in a negative light,” she said, casting a wry glance at Malfoy, who’d settled down beside her. She pulled the hand he’d been holding away from his grip, and settled it in her lap, where her fingers immediately began fidgeting testily as she tried to focus on something – anything – other than the fact that the walls were still caving in on them.
“Did it provide any brilliant insight about how to escape locked closets?” he asked lightly, arching one eyebrow as he smirked at her.
“Unfortunately, no,” Ginny replied weakly.
“Then we’re going to be here for awhile,” he said softly, his eyes carefully gauging her reaction to this piece of news. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Alright, weasel, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Her natural instinct, which was to remain stubbornly silent so as not to reveal her weakness and the fact that she was slowly falling apart, warred with her commons sense, which told her that she needed to tell him. They were, after all, in this mess together. She forced her eyes open, and met his steady gaze, lamenting that trust, once lost, wasn’t easy to relearn. But he had tried to save her from getting caught, so he deserved to know why she wasn’t currently acting the picture of gratitude.
“I’m a little claustrophobic,” she whispered lamely, and she found herself fighting the hysterical urge to laugh at that complete understatement.
“I’d hate to see the reaction of someone who was extremely claustrophobic,” he said off-handedly, and she was once again struck by how much he noticed, how much he saw. She tried to glare at him, but once she met his eyes, it was hard to remember what she had had in mind. They were shining in the dark, their grayish colour taking on an almost silver quality, and they were just looking at her, quietly taking her in. No judgment, no curious looks trying to discern the reasons for her fear beyond what she had been willing to tell him. She shuddered and tore her eyes away.
“This is all your fault,” she snapped bristly, needing to revert to their usual state of enmity, where she was most comfortable, because it offered them both the most protection from each other.
“My fault? You were the one that was late, which ruined all of my plans and you were the one who insisted on coming up here in the first place,” he said grumpily.
“Don’t act like you’d never have broken into the school otherwise, Malfoy,” she retorted quickly, becoming consumed with their bickering, needing the relief from her fear that it was providing.
“You have a lot of preconceived notions about me, Weasley,” he said, leaning towards her conspiratorily. “I think I’m going to enjoy dismantling a lot of them.”
His sudden nearness and the suggestive tone in his voice was too much for her in her fragile state, when she was unable to bear any kind of infringement on her personal space – not when she was locked in such a small space already. She reacted instinctively, swinging her arm out and pushing him aside with a blunt strike as she scampered away, crawling as quickly as she could to the spot the furthest away from him. She heard him groan in pain, but her heart was pounding so painfully in her chest and her lungs were burning with the need to take gasping breaths, and it was only after minutes had passed, when she regained an ounce of her composure that she squinted in the dim light, to see if he was alright.
He was pushing himself up into a sitting positing very slowly, as if every movement was causing him pain. Ginny was startled; she hadn’t realized that she’d struck him so hard. He looked at her, a heavy stare that communicated that he’d learned his lesson and wouldn’t approach her again. It was then that she noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the slight shiver trembling throughout his body. At that observation, she recalled something Tonks had mentioned to her earlier that day – something about Malfoy going home sick and being too stubborn to take a potion. She cringed, remembering also that he’d spent hours out in the snow waiting for her.
“I’m the one having the mental break down here, Malfoy. Why are you the one who is shaking?” she asked, unconsciously adopting that tone of voice her mum used when she knew Ginny was ill but lying about it so she could still go out and play with her brothers.
“I am not shaking,” he snapped grouchily, looking away from her, folding his arms across his chest. She debated allowing him to suffer in his stubborn denial, but she was her mother’s daughter and nothing triggered her bossiness more than stubborn denials of obvious truths. Concentrating all she could on that aspect of who she is – making herself remember that there was more to her than just a severe terror of small, dark spaces – she managed to move away from the wall, leaning closer to Malfoy. He scowled at her, which only fueled her motivation. She returned the scowl, before firmly planting her hand on his forehead to feel his temperature.
“You’re burning up!” she exclaimed accusatorily.
“And yet, strangely, I feel as if I’m about to die of hypothermia,” he remarked, looking up at her with glassy eyes.
“Tonks said you’d been ill for a few days and had been refusing to take a potion. You realize how ridiculous that is, yes? And spending all that time outside in the cold…” Ginny snapped angrily as she unwound her scarf from her neck.
“What are you planning to do with that?” he asked suspiciously, eyeing her red and gold scarf as if it were a poisonous snake.
“I was thinking of stringing you up with it as punishment for being such an idiot. It would, after all, be fairly easy with you in this weakened state and would certainly put an end to all my problems,” she said sarcastically, stretching out her arms to wrap the scarf around him; his teeth were practically chattering as he shivered. He ducked away, as if afraid of becoming contaminated by it.
“I’m not putting that on!” he snapped. Ginny, ignoring his protestations, reached for him again, and he tried to twist away, but he ended up slumping sideways to the floor with a groan.
“Told you that you’d be fairly easy to handle,” she snarked, forcing him to lie back. She tucked her scarf around his neck and before he could protest, she was shrugging off her robe and draping it over him.
“Won’t you be cold?” he mumbled, and Ginny laughed.
“I’m a weasel, remember? We’re quite resourceful when the time calls for it and have rather thick coats of shiny fur to keep us warm. Besides, I’m not the one with the fever,” she said. Malfoy smiled faintly, almost to himself, then looked up at her, a strange expression on his face. She looked away, but couldn’t help but notice he was still shivering. Reminding herself begrudgingly that she was her mother’s daughter, she scooted closer to him and pulled his head onto her lap, adjusting the scarf where it slipped down in the process. Malfoy stiffened awkwardly, before she felt him relax against her, shooting her a surprised look.
“If you keep this up, I really am going to have to take back your Howler,” he said, with a faint smile that could only be characterized as boyish.
“I told you I wasn’t going to let you off that easily,” she responded.
“Good,” was all he said, before settling down and closing his eyes.
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She had lost track of time – it was impossible to tell in the dark broom closet, but she was fairly certain that it was either very late at night or very early in the morning. She’d dozed off, mercifully, but had woken up when her leg cramped, having been in the same position for hours. And now, she was staring at the wall in front of her, which had an almost nightmarish quality to it in the dim green glow of her wand, pondering the endlessness of this night. Malfoy had barely moved since he drifted to sleep, and without him to serve as a distraction in the silence of the night, she was having a hard time retaining the control she’d won over her fear. She’d tried the spell Hermione had taught her to quell panic, but it had very little effect.
She shifted uncomfortably and released the deep breath she’d been holding. Her heart was pounding again, her stomach was clenched in knots and she had the anxious urge to get up and run as fast as she could, and the knowledge that she couldn’t was slowly becoming too much to bear. Ginny tried to focus on something else, but other than her, Malfoy and a few brooms, the small closet was empty of anything to pull her attention away from the feeling that she was being suffocated.
She felt Malfoy stir, and to her great surprise, he reached up and took her hand, the one that had been resting against his forehead, squeezing it reassuringly. You are not alone, we are in this together. She blinked furiously, afraid she’d burst into tears. Instead, she looked down at him.
“You’re awake,” she said softly. He turned slightly to look at her, his eyes heavy with sleep.
“Yeah,” he said simply, before turning back and resettling his head into a comfortable position on her lap. In the comfortable silence, Ginny felt some of her fear drain away, and sitting in that small dark closet became slightly more bearable.
“You never asked,” she said suddenly.
“About what?”
“About why I’m so claustrophobic.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Most people do. They need to have some kind of reason, a story about a traumatic event or a nightmare, just something to give a reason for it, to make it a legitimate fear.”
“I’m not most people.”
Silence fell over them, but with the reassuring warmth of his hand on hers, Ginny found it easier to bear. She considered, for a moment, the fact that she was locked in a closet with one of her greatest enemies, and that he was lying with his head in her lap while holding her hand because she was afraid of small spaces. It should have been ludicrous, an impossible situation, but somehow, at that moment, it just felt natural. She had a flash of the last time she’d spend such a fearful night, trapped in a small space, but completely alone that time, and she shuddered involuntarily.
“I was four years old. I had been playing at a friend’s house, down in the village close to our house. Mum sent Charlie, my oldest brother, to pick me up and walk me home,” she said, her voice distant. She didn’t know why she was telling him this, but the words just kept coming. “We were supposed to go straight home, but one of his friends – also a wizard – had been bragging that he’d found a dragon’s egg. Since we were already there, he took me to see it. Even then, he was fascinated with dragons. It was really late – dark – when we finally set off for home, worried about how Mum was going to react when we finally showed up.
“Our house is pretty far away from the village, and since we were so late, Charlie offered me a piggy-back ride if we could cut through the forest. I was always scared of it – it was dark and Fred and George always told me horrible stories about things they claimed to find there. But I agreed, because I was tired, but I made him promise to take me out on his broom the next day.
“We came to the edge of the forest, where the trees clear enough so that you can actually see the sky. We’d been laughing because Charlie had done this hilarious impression of the lecture Mum would be waiting to give us, and he suddenly stopped, swinging around so he could block my view of the house. Even at four years old, I knew what the Dark Mark looked like and what it meant to see it over your house. Everyone knew, back then. He tried to block it, but I could still see it.
“It was just there – glittering in the sky, hovering over our house. I don’t think you’ll ever know what that feels like, until you see it over the house of someone you love and know that they’ve probably been killed while you were away. Charlie was a mess – he wanted to run down to the house to find out what was happening, delusions of being a grand hero and saving the family undoubtedly dancing in his head; he would have been quite the Gryffindor had he come to school here. But he couldn’t take me, and he just couldn’t leave me all alone – not in the woods that I was so afraid of.
“We found this spot that was almost like a cave, but much much smaller. I had to squeeze into it, and it was such a tight fit that I could barely breath. It was cold and dark, but Charlie said I had to stay hidden. He made me promise not to move, not matter what happened. And then he left, running to the house.
“I think the worst part was that I could see the Dark Mark from where I was hidden. The whole night, right until the sun came up the next morning, it was the only light in that dark dark night. And I just stared at it, sitting in that small space, terrified that I may never see my family again. The whole night. Charlie never came back for me.” At this, Malfoy squeezed her hand and shifted so that he was looking up at her.
“What happened?” he asked softly, an intense expression on his face that indicated that he might be dreading the answer.
“Someone at the Ministry suspected my father of hoarding Muggle artifacts. He’s an expert in Muggle technology, you see, and can be a little… eccentric. So they raided our house, searching for inappropriate Muggle artifacts. At least that’s what they claimed, but it doesn’t seem to be quite the type of offense that would call for a night raid by Death Eaters,” she lied. As open as she was being, she had her limits. This was still the son of Lucius Malfoy, and she wasn’t going to tell him that the raid had really been ordered because they suspected her father of being a member of the Order of the Phoenix, an ally to Albus Dumbledore and an active participant in various plots to overthrow Voldemort’s regime.
“What happened to your family?” he asked hoarsely, looking almost chagrined as he spoke. Ginny paused, trying to think of why that might be, but then remembered he was ill, after all. Fevers can have strange effects on people’s personalities, she decided, and the effect on his was to make him seem almost human.
“They were taken into custody – all of them. It took almost three months for them to be released,” she said, a hard edge of bitterness in her voice. Those three months had been terrible for her, the first time she’d ever been separated from her family. “After hearing about the raid, and that only 6 children had been taken with my parents, some of their friends came by, hoping to find the 7th. I stayed with them until they were all released. From Azkaban.”
“How did they find you?”
“They almost didn’t. I promised Charlie I wouldn’t move, not until he came for me. At one point, I heard footsteps – you can hear every movement in the wood because the brush is so thick. He was practically on top of my little cave, and I was trapped. I couldn’t move, because there wasn’t enough space and there was nowhere to go. They were going to find me. The footsteps kept circling around that area, until there was someone right in front of where I was hiding,” she said, shutting her eyes as she recalled the suffocating horror of that moment. “I could see Death Eater robes, and knew I was going to be caught. He crouched down, and before I knew it, I was staring at another face. I had been found by a Death Eater.
“But, even though he clearly saw me, he got up and walked away. I guess his loyalty didn’t stretch as far as to surrender little children to the authorities. But the rest of the night, I kept thinking he’d change his mind and come back for me. For the rest of that long, long night. I knew that no one was going to come for me, that Charlie had been taken along with my parents and that I was never going to see them again.
“But then my parent’s friends showed up, and knew exactly where to look for me.” Ginny remembered the sobbing relief she felt as she heard familiar voices calling her name, telling her it was going to be alright and that it was safe to come out. ‘Safe’ had, ever since, taken on an entirely new meaning and would never be the same to her again. Safe meant her mum fussing about, her brother teasing each other, the occasional sound of explosions from the twins’ bedroom and her father’s eyes lighting up over a newly found battery.
“Do you remember who the Death Eater was?”
“No,” she lied. There was no mistaking who those beady black eyes, pasty pale face and greasy hair belonged to, even in the dark of the forest. She supposed, as much as she hated Professor Snape, that she could understand why he was so horrible to her. She knew that he was a spy, that he had worked for both sides during (and after) the war. She’d made the mistake of referencing that event, in her first year, to let him know that she knew and that because he’d left her alone and sent Sirius and Remus to find her, his secret was completely safe with her. He’d instantly become furious and thrown her out of his office. He’d been horrible to her ever since, acting as if the very sight of her was an offense to his very being. But, as much as she abhorred his treatment of her, part of her understood it now, because the knowledge that someone else knew your biggest weakness, your biggest vulnerability, was not an easy thing to deal with. “I never saw him again.
“Look, Malfoy. I have no idea why I’ve told you all of this. It’s not exactly common practice for me to expose the root of my deepest fears to the son of someone I consider to be an enemy,” she said. Flinching as she realized what she’d said, she continued. “…Neither is telling the son that I think of his father as an enemy, because I generally try to at least pretend that I’m alright with Voldemort and the way he runs the wizarding world. But the truth is, I’m really not. And during our argument earlier, you made it pretty clear that we’re on opposite sides of that fence.”
“Hold on, weasel,” he protested, sitting up quickly.
“Now, Malfoy, I don’t know exactly what you had in mind when you asked me to meet you – whether you were really… you know, asking me on a date, or if you really were planning something more sinister. But it doesn’t matter, because what I just told you – that moment in my life – is a huge part of who I am and what I believe,” she explained earnestly. “Which is why, no matter your motivation, I really can’t have anything more to do with you.”
“That’s complete rubbish, Weasley!” he snapped angrily.
“It’s not too hard to understand if you’ve ever seen the Dark Mark over the house of someone you love and not known whether or not they were still alive. Which I pretty sure you haven’t!” she retorted. Malfoy was glaring at her indignantly, appearing ready to launch another protest, but whatever he had been planning to say was interrupted when the door to the closet opened, flooding it with sunlight, which stung their eyes and caused them both to gasp.
“No one is supposed to be up here!” the house elf cried anxiously. “It’s Sunday, I clean on Sundays, nobody is supposed to be here!”
Ginny didn’t care what else the house elf had to say, because all that mattered was that the door was open and she was free. She jumped up and dashed forward, staggering under cramped and stiff legs, and didn’t stop until she was at the giant window, fumbling with the latch. She threw it open, and stuck her head out, breath deep the fresh air, opening her eyes to the wide landscape, the hills that seemed to go on indefinitely and the bright morning sky. She could see it all from so high up, and nothing ever felt so good as the sweet relief of being released from her suffocating fear.
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They had walked slowly down from the Tower, after Malfoy had gruffly threatened the elf with horrible consequences if he ever revealed he’d seen them there, both stiff and sore from their night together. A heavy silence was hanging between them, loaded with the unfinished business of their interrupted argument.
They reached the road that lead back to Hogsmeade, and paused. Ginny swung her robe on, wanting nothing more than to flee from the intense stare Malfoy was giving her.
“Are you alright to get home?” she asked, concerned that he still appeared rather ill. He nodded without saying anything. “Well, then… goodbye.”
She turned away, but Malfoy put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, unsure what else the two could possibly say to each other. His eyes met hers, burning with intensity – that same look that almost hypnotized her whenever she was on the receiving end of it. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. It was quick, over in barely an instant, and yet it still managed to steal her breath and send a thrill down her spine.
He stepped back quickly, looking away as if embarrassed.
“Thank you,” he said awkwardly, shrugging a bit as his fingers played with the ends of her scarf, which was still wrapped around his neck.
“You’re welcome,” she said, unsurely. Malfoy looked back at her, apparently over his split-second bout with humility, as he was suddenly the arrogant and conceited jerk he always was, smiling cockily at her.
“Of course, if you had let me die or suffer unduly while we were trapped there, I would’ve had to kill you,” he said with a characteristically arrogant bluster. Ginny stared at him in disbelief, before rolling her eyes and turning back to the road and walking away. It wasn’t until she was sure he couldn’t se her that she began to run as fast as she could.
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Credit these ideas to HYD:
1) Ginny refusing to go on the date, but changing her mind half way through the day and running off to find him, and Malfoy having waited for her the whole day;
2) Them getting stuck some place and having to be there the whole night;
3) Malfoy getting sick and Ginny deciding to care for him.
The rest is mainly mine, or has been warped so badly beyond recognition from the HYD plot that I couldn't remember that I'd taken it. In particular, Ginny's claustrophobia and the event in her life that caused it was definitely mine and comes from my weird need to have dark, twisted pasts for my main characters.
I have no idea the lay-out of the Burrow in relation to everything else around it - for all I know, there IS no forest or village nearby, but I needed and it's AU, remember? Same goes with the layout of Hogwarts - I have no idea if the Quidditch pitch can be seen from the Astronomy Tower or even what the Astronomy Tower really is. These are two instances where I haven't purposely altered canon in order to fit the AU, I just didn't know.
Thanks a bunch to all those who take a few moments to leave comments, I really appreciate hearing your thoughts.
More soon!
Quick thank you to all those awesome people who helped me with my dramatic grammar flailing on my LJ, your help is the reason this chapter got posted this week!
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Chapter 10: Stubborn Denials of Obvious Truths
Ginny watched Malfoy stalking away from her in dumbfounded silence, wondering what she'd done now to warrant the challenge he'd just issued her. At least that was what she was thinking until a very loud and shrill shriek pierced the air as the murmurings of those who had been standing around and had heard what Malfoy had demanded reached the ears of Pansy Parkinson.
"WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM? What kind of curse did you cast on him? Or was it a love potion? That must be it! They’re strictly forbidden and the punishment is life in Azkaban!" she shrieked, pushing her way manically through the crowd, until she stumbled forward, grabbing Ginny by the shoulders and shaking her. Taken aback and slightly afraid at the hysterical look in Pansy's eyes, Ginny shrugged free of her grip and stared at her as if she'd lost her mind.
"That's just regular behaviour for Malfoy, what are you on about Parkinson?" she cried, feeling confused. Obviously, Pansy hadn't heard him properly. Hadn't he just been challenging to her a duel or something equally ridiculous as retribution for whatever wrong she'd committed against him lately? If that was the case, then there was no reason for Pansy to be hysterically demanding to know what Ginny had "done" to Malfoy.
"If you expect me to believe that Draco Malfoy asking something like you out is regular behaviour, you must think I'm an idiot!" Pansy shrieked. "Just who do you think you are?"
Ginny let out a giant burst of laughter, throwing her head back and laughing so hard, her stomach started to hurt and tears stung her eyes. She had never heard anything more ludicrous in her life. Gasping for breath, she covered her mouth, trying to reign in her laughter as Pansy glared at her murderously, looking just about ready to Avada Kedavra her.
"Is that what you think that was? Bloody hell, Parkinson, this is Draco Malfoy we're talking about. Let's keep the discussion in the realm of the plausible, shall we? Have you hit your head on something? Because that obviously wasn't him asking me out, because that would... that would just be insane," Ginny said incredulously, unable to believe how deluded Parkinson had become. Obviously, Ginny's continued (and reluctant) involvement with the Slytherins and the group of important people that surrounded them had really started to take its toll on Pansy's sanity. She looked around; a group of students had gathered around them, staring at her with serious expressions, obviously not seeing the humour in the situation. Even more disconcerting where the expression of loathing jealousy on a fair number of her fellow female students, which she found rather startling. Jealous of Ginny Weasley? It was unheard of!
Slowly, as silence descended over the crowded location, Ginny's humour slipped away and a sinking feeling came over her.
"...You can't be serious! Why would he... of course he wouldn't!"
"We all heard it, so you can stop pretending to be so innocent," Milicent Bulstrode said coldly, but Ginny was too busy feeling as if she'd been struck by lightning to really notice. She replayed the scene that had just passed, trying to figure where they were getting this ridiculous notion.
"Has everyone gone insane??" she cried, frustrated. Ignoring the staring crowd, she pushed her way past them and ran down the street she'd seen Malfoy take, as he stalked away. She spotted his tall form up ahead and called to him. He froze as she called his name, and turned towards her, awkwardly trying to appear nonchalant.
"Question, weasel?" he asked calmly, a neutral expression on his face even as his fingers were fidgeting. Noticing, he quickly folded his arms across his chest. Ginny stalked towards him, wondering if she was hallucinating. He seemed nervous and the self-certainty that he ordinarily exuded seemed to have disappeared. She glared at him, trying to assess the situation.
"Er...What you said just now... about Saturday...what was that all about?" she asked awkwardly. "Because everyone heard you, and they are completely misinterpreting what you said as something so completely ridiculous and outside the realm of possibility..."
"What is it that they think I said?" he asked, and Ginny felt her frustration peak. Couldn't he just be direct and save them both a great deal of discomfort?
"They all think you asked me out!" she blurted out, sounding completely exasperated, but at this point, she didn’t care what his reaction was to her tone. "Parkinson's practically in hysterics over it."
"What do you think I said?" he asked, looking away from her.
"It sounded like you were challenging me - no, ordering me - to a bloody duel! So, you can see the confusion, regarding their interpretation and my own over what was said," she said snapped. She was startled when he seemed to be struggling not to smile.
"And it's completely out of the realm of possibility?" he asked, eyebrows raised teasingly.
"Which one?" she demanded, confused. "Because if it was the latter, you have quite a bit to learn about when it comes to women - ordering us to do something is a never-failing means to compel us to do the exact opposite. Also, if you were asking me out, it's rather inconvenient, considering the fact that I've sworn to hate you my entire life. And if it was the former, the only thing outside the realm of possibility is the fact that it hasn't happened before."
He was smiling now, his arrogance completely restored as he looked down at her in silence with that expression in his eyes that always made her want to fidget under his scrutiny.
"Either way, I suppose, you are right about one thing. It is a challenge. But, as for the rest?" he said, smirking proudly. "You'll have to wait until Saturday to find that out...It’s part of the challenge."
He walked away, leaving Ginny fuming, wondering if this was just another one of his plots to torture her. Because it was definitely working, as her outrage and frustration over the situation competed with her insatiable curiosity. And the fact that now that he had really issued a challenge, she was left with no choice but to go.
"Sorry to disappoint you, Malfoy, but I work Saturday," she hollered after him defiantly. He just waved at her over his shoulder, dismissing her protestation as if it were simply a stray fly. She scoffed at his arrogance, which gave her a few seconds of relief before her confusion returned.
Despite the chaotic turn of events her life had undergone in a few short weeks, this development was quite possibly the most baffling of them all.
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“So, what are you going to do?” Hermione asked her, an inquisitive expression on her face as she watched Ginny pace around, distraught. “Are you going to show up on Saturday?”
“Why, so he can curse me then laugh at my naiveté for actually showing up?” Ginny snapped.
“No, to find out what he wants. What happens if Parkinson was right and he really was asking you out?” Hermione asked thoughtfully, ignoring Ginny’s hostile attitude. Ginny sighed dramatically.
“Considering Parkinson is a raving lunatic, I find it hard to believe anything she has to say. And, besides! It hardly matters whether or not he was truly asking me out. Are we forgetting that this is someone I hate and who is the last person I’d ever date?” Ginny exclaimed loudly. She looked around her, grateful that she’d been able to hold out until the end of their shift before she broke down and spilled all the sordid details of the entire incident to her best friend, which meant that she was free to speak without an audience around to overhear their entire conversation. Hermione was her characteristically analytical self, listening calmly to all the details and peppering Ginny with questions as she spoke, frowning in concentration as she heard the answers.
“Are you so sure that he’s someone you hate?” Hermione asked, with that infuriating all-knowing look on her face.
“Of course I hate him! Do you want me to go through the list of reasons why?” Ginny cried out in indignation. “Ever since Claire accidentally bumped into him, he’s made my life completely miserable! Shall I remind you that his goons have been plaguing me with petty practical jokes, tripping me, tricking my professors into thinking I’ve been cheating on tests and using that awful skirt-shrinking charm every time I have my back turned? Then there are the two Slytherins who… who pulled me into that classroom and we both know how that turned out… And there’s the way that he’s always watching me with that knowing smirk, how he’s always teasing me to get me going and then laughing at me when I react exactly how he wanted me to! Not to mention that incident with the Whomping Willow and my broken wrist!”
“Don’t forget the kiss at Cho Chang’s party,” Hermione chimed in. Ginny froze, giving her friend a wary glance. She hadn’t told Hermione about what had happened after the practical joke mistletoe incident, how he’d followed her out to the garden or how he’d kissed her again. In a fairy garden. Bathed in moonlight.
“Wh-what about it?” Ginny stammered, her hands fumbling as she bent to pick up empty glasses left on the bar, almost knocking them over.
“Isn’t that just another reason for you to hate him?” Hermione asked with a frown. “Especially after all your romantic notions about your first kiss and all.”
“Of course it’s another reason I hate him,” she cried. I especially hate the fact that I can’t forget about it, she thought to herself. “Why would I consider going to meet him, considering all these facts? Besides, I’m working Saturday, so even if I wanted to go – which I don’t – I couldn’t.”
“There you two are! I though you would’ve been finished by now, girls,” Madame Rosmerta said, barely looking up from the stack of papers in her hands. “Oh, and Ginny? I’ve cancelled your shift Saturday.”
“What? Why?” Ginny cried, her heart pounding as she remembered the casual way that Malfoy had waved off her protestations that she had to work Saturday afternoon. Did he have something to do with this?
“Business has been slow. With all this extra security around town, people are more reluctant to be out on the street or in public places,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “I can’t wait until they catch this fugitive and our lives can get back to normal.”
“And that’s the only reason?” Ginny asked warily.
“Well, that and your mother has a rather nasty habit of sending me Howlers if she thinks you’ve been working too much. Take the day, have fun, be a teenager for an afternoon. It’ll do you good,” she said with a kind smile as she walked back into the kitchen, probably heading towards her office to finish the closing paperwork.
“Well, now you have a choice to make, Ginny. You can either show up to meet Malfoy… or you can hang out with me on Saturday. I also have the day off. I was going to go to the bookstore and…”
“And you can’t buy the textbooks you want to bury your nose in for a few days without a pureblood to sign off on the forms for you,” Ginny responded with a smile. Access to magical texts was restricted to anyone who wasn’t from a wizarding family, and for Muggleborns wanting to learn about magic, it was very difficult to get their hands on the necessary texts. One of the reasons that Ginny and Hermione had become such good friends was that Ginny was more than willing to completely disregard all the rules that she thought were ridiculous and kept the studious girl happily supplied with all the texts she could possibly want.
“Well, yes, but we also haven’t had a day to ourselves since last year, and it would be nice,” she said sheepishly. Ginny grinned mischievously, spotting an excellent opportunity to tease her friend.
“We did have time to ourselves this summer, but someone preferred to spend her vacation at the Burrow bickering with my knobby brother,” Ginny said with a knowing look.
“If he wasn’t so bloody stubborn… and reckless! Him and that friend of his, the one with the glasses… they’ll get themselves killed one day with all the rules they break! Rules are there for a reason – beyond being broken, of course – and I certainly refuse to take part in any of it,” Hermione retorted primly, her cheeks growing pink. Ginny laughed.
“Shall I remind you about your opinion with regards to rules while I’m buying you restricted magic books?” Ginny asked with a raised eyebrow.
“That’s different, these are books. It’s for… for a higher, nobler purpose – education and knowledge! Breaking the rules just so they can go off and practice that little game of theirs is inexcusable,” Hermione declared indignantly. Ginny laughed, knowing her friend’s passionate opinions about books.
“Of course it’s different…. You know what, Hermione? I think you’re absolutely right. I should just forget all about Malfoy and this whole ridiculous mess and just spend the day with you,” Ginny declared. She paused, and then sighed heavily. “Try to remember who I am. He’s got me all twisted.”
“Your thoughts on Malfoy seemed very black and white a few minutes ago, as you were declaring your eternal hatred for him.”
“Yes, of course…but… he does horrible things, but then he does something that’s not so horrible and it’s confusing.”
“Like when he healed your arm after the Whomping Willow incident?” Hermione asked.
“He was acting so strange then. It was like he was teasing me but that he was also concerned and angry with me for getting myself hurt, but trying to hide it with the teasing. And the other night… after I left All Hallows… he followed me down that alley, and if he hadn’t been there… well, it could have been really bad. But he was there…” Ginny trailed off, lost in thought. She looked up, a frown on her face, looking perplexed. “It sounds ridiculous, considering how much I hate him and all, but I was actually relieved when I realized he was there. Standing outside, in a dark street in the dodgy end of town with bloody Draco Malfoy, and I actually felt safe.”
“Ginny… remember that list you just rattled off about why you hate him,” Hermione said softly. “I really think you should be more careful around him.”
“You’re right. I know you’re right, but he has me all knocked off balance, and that’s what I hate most about him,” Ginny said. She sighed. “So, we are definitely on for Saturday.”
As Ginny continued cleaning off the tables, Hermione watched her friend as she moved about, and couldn’t help but notice how distracted and jumpy she was.
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As soon as she walked into the study, Tonks was overwhelmed by a sweltering wave of heat. She gasped, causing her cousin to look up from the piece of parchment he was scribbling on.
“My god, Draco, why is it so bloody hot in here?” she exclaimed, her eyes narrowing in on the blazing fire burning in the fireplace, feeling as if she was suffocating from the oppressive temperature. His face was flushed and his eyes were bright and glassy.
“I was cold. It’s always rather damp in the house around this time of year. Won’t be long before the snow starts,” he said, distractedly as he looked down at what he was writing.
“Are you feeling alright?” she asked, slightly taken aback by how odd he looked. He looked positively feverish.
“Of course I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice sounding raspy and dry. Tonks scoffed, but growing up in that house, she was well-versed in the temperaments of Malfoy males, and knew he’d never admit it even if he was feeling as terrible as he looked.
“You should take a potion. You don’t want to get sick and miss your big date tomorrow,” she said with a smirk. His head snapped up, his eyes flashing in anger. “Oh, come on, Draco. You demand her presence – on threat of death – in front of an entire crowd and you think I’m not going to find out about it?”
“I thought I ordered the house elves to throw you out this morning. Customary practice for unwanted house guests who overstay their welcome,” he said petulantly, leaning back in his chair.
“Unfortunately for you, the house elves are terrified of me and would rather see you in a fury than me,” Tonks said with a cheeky smile. “Now, dear cousin, I think I should give you a quick lesson in romantic etiquette, as you demonstrably have absolutely no idea how you should act while asking a girl out. Someone told me she actually thought you were challenging her to a duel. A duel, Draco! You’ll be very lucky if she actually shows up.”
“She wouldn’t dare stand me up. Malfoys are never stood up,” he mumbled, continuing to write on his parchment. “And I don’t need any romantic advice from you as you haven’t exactly had a stellar record in that area.”
Tonks froze and a look of pain flashed on her face before she managed to regain her composure.
“Speaking of such pleasant topics, I received an owl from your mother this afternoon. She’s been hearing some rumors about your love life and demanded any information I might have,” Tonks said, her voice suddenly serious. Draco looked up, his eyes dark with concern. Tonks noted how openly he was showing his emotions and decided he really must not be feeling right, to show such a degree of vulnerability.
“What was she asking about?” he asked carefully.
“She just heard that Angelique Aristide put in an appearance at Cho’s party a few weeks ago and wanted to know if you two have reconciled yet,” Tonks said, and Draco snorted.
“Fat chance of that ever happening. Not after what she did,” he scoffed angrily. Tonks nodded knowingly before she leaned forward, catching his eyes.
“She doesn’t know anything about Weasley. Yet.”
“There’s nothing to know. I’ve only challenged Weasley to a duel, after all,” he said with a pointed look, and Tonks had to bite back a proud smile. It never ceased to amaze her how much he fit the textbook description on a Slytherin – scheming and plotting two steps ahead of everyone else. “What did you tell her about Angelique?”
“Only that I couldn’t understand why she was so eager to see her son with that kind of girl, despite her family’s reputation,” Tonks said. “Well, her rage over that my exact choice of wording will buy you some time before she reasserts herself into your love life.”
“Once she accepts that there is no possibility of that ever happening, we’ll both be happier,” Draco said with a heavy sigh.
“Unfortunately, mutual happiness isn’t a consideration in Nacrissa’s plans, that much I can tell you,” Tonks said, her voice hard with bitterness. Draco met her eyes and nodded slowly. “What are you working on?”
“Paper for Potions,” he said dismissively.
“Speaking of potions, you should really take one, you look terrible,” Tonks said as she left the room.
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Ginny cast one last longing look at her new broom, which was sitting unused in the corner, before grabbing her bag, in order to leave for the day. She'd woken up late, after a night of almost constant tossing and turning, and had missed her window of time to test out the Firebolt. Knowing how Hermione felt about flying, she didn't think that she'd be able to convince her to blow off their afternoon plans for shopping and the bookstore in order to spend the day flying. Locking her door as she left, Ginny sighed one more time with regret, but told herself that the opportunity would come Monday morning, as she'd no longer have to walk to Hogwarts as she'd been doing since her former broom’s demise at the hands of Draco Malfoy and his Bludger.
The thought of him made her pause in her tracks, as the swell of anxiety that had caused her restless night reasserted it's presence in her stomach. She closed her eyes, took a few deep breaths while smoothing her hands over her skirt, trying to dry her clammy palms. She had been unable to shake the anxious feeling that had been plaguing since the afternoon Cho had left, and her nerves were incredibly jittery. Ginny kept telling herself that she had nothing but a lovely afternoon with her best friend ahead of her, and that was certainly nothing to be anxious about, but it did little to alleviate her anxious nerves. Gritting her teeth, Ginny strode down the hall, heading for the stairs that would lead her down the street, determined that she would have a glorious, relaxing day and nothing was going to prevent that from happening.
She sighed as she stepped outside, inhaling the crisp air rich with the scent of snow. The bite in the air and clouds overhead indicated the possibility of snow and Ginny's heart leapt at the thought. Her mother had often told her how lovely Hogsmeade had been when Molly had been a student at Hogwarts and Ginny always found this hard to believe - the city had grown so rapidly after Voldemort had risen to power that most of the newer buildings were all built in a hurry and with little thought to aesthetics, and Ginny always felt that beyond the downtown core, it was just a tired, sad old city. Except when the first few snow falls of the season came, blanketing the dinginess with pure white. It was the only time that Ginny could see what it might have looked like when her parents were her age, and it always made her feel closer to them.
Ginny glanced up the street, and could see Hermione walking towards her, a scolding look on her face. She trotted towards her, smiling apologetically.
"Sorry, I overslept," Ginny called out.
"Ginny, you look really nice today! We're just going to the bookstore!" Hermione exclaimed, her sharp eye giving Ginny a once over. Ginny laughed in surprise, as she'd thrown together whatever she could find as she was running late, practically tearing her room apart searching for a pair of jeans. She'd settled on an old denim skirt and a bright purple sweater, figuring that no one would take much notice of her outfit once she threw her black Hogwarts robe on over top of it.
"Well, my mum's old scarf really completes the look," she said, mockingly striking a pose, holding up a tattered end of the second-hand scarf knitted in Gryffindor colours. Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation.
"You're wearing your hair down, that's what I meant. You hardly ever do, it looks nice," she explained. Ginny paused, that inexplicable anxious feeling overwhelming her again before she tried to shrug it off. Hermione was an observant girl, and if she noticed Ginny acting as if something was wrong, she'd ask about it, and that would inevitably lead the girls to a long and involved discussion about Draco Malfoy and Ginny desperately wanted to avoid having to talk or think about him. Especially today.
"That's because I'm off today! No work, no school, no need or desire to reasonable, practical or efficient with either my time or my appearance," Ginny said joyously. "Plus, Pansy's not around to irritate with my poor style choices, which takes away most of the appeal of wearing a braid, anyway."
"You really shouldn't antagonize her..." Hermione said, with a shake of her head.
"She started it!" Ginny protested.
"Shall we go, or should I wait until your maturity level drops a little bit lower?" Hermione shot back, with a smile on her face.
"Certainly. We can't let all those books go unread any longer than necessary!" Ginny cried, pulling her friend's arm along with her as she started to run down the street, suddenly feeling light-hearted and free as she tried to dash away from her worries.
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Ginny and Hermione were strolling down the street, later on that afternoon, each carrying a rather hefty sack of books, laughing breezily as they went. Ginny's spirits were high; she'd seen Snape in the bookstore, and the shocked expression on his face had been absolutely priceless. He seemed to work so hard towards convincing himself that she was a poor student that rarely ever cracked open a book, that seeing her in the bookstore carrying heavy tomes of potion books (Hermione's current magical obsession) had been rather shocking to him. So shocking, in fact, that he'd hardly even attempted any type of cutting remark - he'd simply just sneered and stormed away, causing the two girls to erupt into giggles.
Even now, a full hour later, Hermione or Ginny would look at the other with an exaggerated impression of his look of sheer surprise, causing the other to start giggling all over again.
"'Mione, stop! Oh, it hurts," Ginny protested breathlessly, nearly dropping the bag she was struggling to hold on to, her stomach aching with the prolonged bouts of laughter. She slipped, her shoes losing some of their traction on the fresh layer of snow that had fallen during the hours they'd been browsing in the bookstore, causing the two of them to shriek with laughter, their moods having completely run away with them.
“Ooh, look, it’s snowing again!” Hermione declared breathlessly, as she struggled to catch her breath as the giggles finally started to fade away. Ginny looked up – in the late afternoon, the street lamps had come on, casting a warm glow as the sun had started to set, a reminder that winter was certainly on its way. Large fluffy flakes were falling and Ginny breathed in greedily, afraid the peace and beauty of that moment would disappear all too quickly.
“I’m so glad I came with you today,” she said quietly, casting a smile at Hermione. Hermione rolled her eyes.
“Well, of course you are, when considering your alternative choices,” she scoffed. Ginny, who had managed to push all thoughts of Draco Malfoy out of her head up until that point, felt her stomach twist, and couldn’t help but check her watch – one o’clock had come and gone hours ago. He was probably plotting what form his revenge for her would take. Ginny stopped in her tracks, wondering what he would do to someone who had already received a Howler, and shivered slightly. He would, undoubtedly, be furious. She wondered how long it would have taken him to give up and realize that she wasn’t going to show – she’d bet that it was less than five minutes.
“Ginny?” Hermione asked tentatively, noticing that the other girl’s attention had drifted off. Ginny started, before turning to her friend, trying to drum up some excuse for why she’d drifted off without having to confess that she’d been thinking of him, not when the entire object of the day’s activities had been designed to keep her from thinking of him and feeling that strange sensation of guilt in the pit of her stomach when she thought of how he might have reacted, waiting for her in the town square. Luckily, she was saved from having to lie to her best friend’s face when a voice from down the street called out to them.
“Oy, Ginny! Over here!” Tonks called, waving frantically as she trotted towards the two girls. Ginny felt her shoulders stiffen as Malfoy’s cousin ran up to her, desperately trying to decide how she should act around her, panicking as her mind drew a blank.
“Hello, Tonks,” she said awkwardly.
“I guess running into you here means that my idiotic cousin finally admitted defeat and went home sick? I kept telling him he should just take a potion and be done with it, but he’s so bloody stubborn. I guess it serves him right to have this day ruined, maybe it’ll teach him the lesson that his “superior” Malfoy genes aren’t as immune to the common cold as he likes to believe,” Tonks said, barely pausing for breath before continuing. “Although, it really does all make sense now, you know. After he came home that one afternoon and started asking all those questions about sacrificing your pride for love, and then using my advice to send Blaise off after Cho Chang, I thought he’d lost his mind – or maybe even gained some sense, but it turns out he was just feverish and acting out of his right mind!”
Ginny blinked in shock and was having a great deal of difficulty processing what Tonks had just rattled off to her. She lunged forward, grabbing the older woman’s arm, to pull her attention before she launched into another long dialogue.
“What do you mean, he sent Blaise off after Cho?” she demanded, feeling her hands start to tremble.
“Just that. Blaise was set to sulk and watch the girl he loves walk out of his life without any kind of fight, until that block-headed cousin of mine marched over there and lectured him – using the very lecture I gave him the night before. Took credit for it, too, I suppose,” Tonks muttered, her eyes narrowed, but Ginny hardly noticed. She was too busy filling in the pieces, answering the one thing she’d never understood about Blaise’s departure.
The day before, the day he’d yelled at her, he seemed bound and determine to play the martyr, to just let Cho walk away. And the next day, he’d suddenly changed his mind, and it had never made any sense to her. But now, with this new piece of information from Tonks, a possibility she’d never have believed if it had come from any other source entered her mind. It had been Malfoy, the selfish, conceited bastard who had advised Blaise to go after what he wanted, to fight for it. Ginny was feeling dizzy at the thought, and looked down at her wrist, the one that she’d broken, realizing for the first time that she’d been clenching and unclenching her fist as her mind tried to work through this new piece of information. On top of the fact that he had some twisted kind of nice side to his personality (he had healed her, after all), it now seemed that there was a bit of a romantic streak in him, as well.
“Maybe we’re not all that different after all,” she said, barely aware that she’d spoken aloud, as engrossed as she was in trying to make sure she didn’t fall over, what with the way her world had just flipped upside down. A flutter of anxiousness had just swept over her body and it was all she could do to remain standing still.
“Ginny, are you alright?” Hermione asked, obviously perplexed. Ginny turned to her suddenly, thrusting her hefty sack of books into her friend’s hands, looking dazed and shocked.
“Sorry, Hermione, there’s something I have to do,” she said distractedly, as Hermione struggled to grab hold of the bag before Ginny took off at a dead run down the street, slipping slightly in the slippery snow. Hermione watched her friend run off in surprise, before casting a withering glance at the other woman standing with her.
“You know she didn’t show up this afternoon,” Hermione said neutrally. Tonks laughed.
“Of course she didn’t! No girl in her right mind would, after everything that moron has done. But she didn’t have all the facts before,” Tonks said, with a satisfied smile. “Now they have a level playing field, a chance at a fresh start.”
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A thousand thoughts were running through her head as she ran, the cold air stinging her cheeks. A dozen times, she almost stopped, telling herself how ridiculous and pointless it was for her to be rushing there, as there was absolutely no chance that he was going to still be there, waiting for her. And even if he was, what then? He was her mortal enemy, her nemesis, the person whose arrogance and conceit had turned her boring, peaceful world completely upside down. There was no reason she’d ever want to spend any more time with him than absolutely necessary.
By the time she reached the town square, she was breathless from running, and her heart was pounding in her chest as she nervously scanned the area. It was fairly deserted, now that it was growing dark and it had started snowing again, and only a few stragglers remained sitting on the benches. She twirled around, looking all about her, not sure if she even wanted to find him while a small part of her kept her holding her breath, desperate to find out if he had actually waited.
Suddenly, she felt someone take her arm and she was forcefully turned around, their grip tight on her arm. Flustered and caught off guard, she struggled to pull away, preparing to scream for help as her assailant stubbornly held on.
“You’re late,” a cold voice snapped, causing Ginny to stop her struggle as she looked up in shock to realize who it was. Seconds that felt like hours passed, as she stared up at him, unable to speak and hardly able to believe that Draco Malfoy had waited all that time for her. He was glaring down at her with a murderous expression on his face, his usually pale face tinged red from the cold. She wrenched her arm away, and stumbled a bit from the force, feeling her temper flare for no other reason than the accusatory way he was looking at her with that look, the one which had such an immobilizing effect on her powers of speech.
“Who agreed to come? It’s your own fault for being arrogant enough to think that anyone would after that horrible display!” Ginny retorted, trying to recompose herself, despite all the flutters of emotion she was experiencing. Malfoy, dressed all in black, glared at her while crossing his arms petulantly across his chest and smiling arrogantly at her as he ran his eyes over her, making her want to squirm.
“You’re here now, aren’t you?” he asked, with a knowing look that almost had her reaching for her wand as her mind conjured up the perfect curse to put an end to that infernal smirk. Before she could react, though, he was grabbing her hand again and marching off, pulling her along with him. “Let’s go, we’re very late.”
“Wait! Wait just a minute!” she cried, struggling to free herself from his grasp. “I never said that I would go anywhere with you!”
“Then why did you come?” he asked over his shoulder. She cursed, digging her heels into the ground, trying to prevent herself from being dragged along with him. He stopped, and spun around, releasing her arm as he leaned over her, his tall form and stony facial expression very imposing as he stared down her defiance. “I realize that because you come from such a poor family, you might not have been taught some of the finer points of social etiquette and I’m willing to overlook that – to a certain extent. In general, when one is late for an engagement, they do not act like a saucy brat and create even further difficulties.”
“I am not acting like a saucy brat! You are assuming far too much, I didn’t come here to go anywhere with you, I…” she trailed off, unable to remember exactly why she had come running to this spot. He raised an eyebrow inquisitively, waiting for her explanation. “… I just wanted to see if you were still sitting around here, waiting, like an idiot!”
“I was planning on waiting another ten minutes, and then I was going to kill you,” he said, nonchalantly, reaching for her hand again, trying to lead her forward. She snatched it back as if she’d been burned, disappointed that all her bluster had been so effortlessly swatted away with his one comment. She searched his face, searching for some hint of humor, some sign to indicate that that last comment had been mere hyperbole, but he was as stony-faced as ever, and she could detect nothing. “I have been waiting for you, in this infernal snow, all bloody afternoon. The least you could do is come along without putting on such a fuss. You are coming, whether you want to or not, but it’ll be a long walk if you continue to act like such a shrew, and it’s cold. I want to get there as quickly as possible.”
“I guess I do owe you that much,” she muttered with annoyance, her curiosity about their destination getting the better of her.
“Then hurry up!” he snapped, marching off in front of her. She stared at his back, wanting nothing more than to scoop a handful of soggy snow from the ground and toss it at his back, the arrogant conceited git. “Come along, little weasel!”
“I’m going to kill him, I’m going to pull out my wand and Avada Kedavra him and it’s going to be the single most satisfying moment of my life,” she muttered grumpily under her breath, as her feet moved her unwilling body forward, struggling to catch up with his long strides.
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“Why have you brought me here?” Ginny demanded, casting a withering look in Malfoy’s direction before turning back to face the Quidditch pitch.
“Dragged you. I didn’t bring you here, I had to drag you,” he corrected grumpily, assessing the damage she’d done to his sleeve, with all her twisting and clawing attempts to liberate her arm from the iron-tight grip he had on it.
“They why did you drag me here, of all places? I’ve seen the bloody pitch before, thank you,” she said, her face starting to burn as she remembered the various times she’d fled to the pitch in order to vent her outrage over something the boy looming beside her – with his had still burning-hot on her wrists – had done. That thought led her to the time she’d encountered his best friend there, which only made her blush even more. She stared at the pitch, feeling reluctant to be there with Malfoy. It was her refuge – the one place she went to get away from all he did and represented about their world, and to be there with him just seemed so wrong. Of course, she thought to herself wildly, it had nothing to do with the fact that it was also the first place Blaise Zabini had ever spoken to her.
“Just be patient,” he answered. She inhaled deeply, trying to quell her rising temper, and when that had absolutely no effect, she opened her mouth to really let him have it, when she saw a short, swarthy-looking man approaching them as he exited the changing rooms.
“Mr. Malfoy!” he exclaimed, with a look on his face that reminded Ginny of the paralyzing horror that came over some people when they realized there was a Bludger careening straight for their face. “I wasn’t expecting you this afternoon.”
“When we spoke earlier, I informed you that I would be attending the practice,” Malfoy said, sounding annoyed.
“Well…err, yes, you did mention that… but I expected you much earlier in the afternoon. When you never appeared, I just assumed we wouldn’t be honoured with your presence,” the clearly agitated man stuttered.
“Well, we’re here now. If you’d please remove the wards I know the coach insists upon to guard the secrecy of the team’s strategy, we’d like to sit in the stands,” he said. While he’d phrased his words as a request, it was very clearly a demand he did not expect to be refused. Ginny, who’d been watching the exchange curiously then realized that she recognized the nervous man - despite how different he appeared now, she should have been able to recognize him anywhere, given the number of times she’d seen his photo in the Prophet. It was Rufus Bringham, the manager of the professional team, the Chudleigh Cannons, the team that her entire family supported zealously. It was one of the few things that all of her brothers could agree upon. She felt her mouth drop open, and was reeling slightly from the shock of it all.
“Yes, about that… David decided that none of our practices are to be open to the public any longer – seems its been a source of distraction, and that’s what he’s blaming our latest loss on. He’s decided that no one outside the team will be allowed in our practices. I’m terribly sorry, he only informed me of this decision a few hours ago,” Rufus explained, looking as if that was the very last thing he wanted to be doing right at that moment, saying ‘no’ to Draco Malfoy. Ginny, however, was oblivious to the quiet rage burning within her companion as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that she was standing across from a Quidditch legend who’d retired early in order to manage the team he’d never had a chance to play for.
“You mean to say that the Cannons – THE Cannons – practice on our pitch?” she asked, unable to contain her excitement. The knowledge that her Quidditch idols flew the same pitch as she did was almost too much for her to handle. They ignored her excited question, and she realized that Malfoy was glaring at the man in the most intimidating fashion possible.
“I respect that decision, however I do not constitute the ‘public’,” Malfoy spat, sounding disgusted, as if the word had left a bad taste in his mouth. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten that my family owns this team?”
“Of course not!” Rufus chirped defensively, looking terrified. Ginny felt her awe of her newly acquired knowledge start to drain away as she watched the scene unfold.
The first Quidditch game she’d ever seen had been a championship game that her father that brought them all to – he’d managed to win a full set of tickets through a contest at the Ministry – and she remembered how awestruck she’d been with the way Rufus Bringham had fearlessly protected his Seeker from any Bludger that approached him. Already a fairly respected Beater, this game had solidified his status as one of the greatest to ever play professionally. By the end of the game, he’d broken his nose, had lost three teeth and appeared to have dislocated his shoulder, although that had never been confirmed by his doctors. He refused to be pulled from the game. Ginny remembered that she, for weeks afterwards, had gazed dreamily at his picture – one that she’d ripped from the newspaper, and which featured his pudgy face and bushy eyebrows in all their glory, complete with a hideously broken nose and two black eyes. She told herself that that was what courage must look like. But now, here she was, watching that very legend being intimidated by an arrogant prat like Malfoy, and only because he worked for his father.
“I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do about it – only David can lower the wards, and he’s refused,” Rufus said.
“That is unacceptable!” Malfoy barked, lunging forward, grabbing the man by his shirt threateningly. Having seen enough and wondering for the hundredth time why she’d ever come to meet him in the first place, Ginny decided it was time to say something.
“What are we doing here anyway? And leave the poor man alone, you pompous brat, he’s only doing his job and that does not give you the right to harass him because you pitch a fit whenever someone tells you ‘no’ to something,” she said, finally wrenching her hand free of his tight grip. Malfoy whipped around, his eyes furious.
“I thought you liked Quidditch! And aren’t the Cannons your favorite team?” he demanded, his tone resonating with his annoyance.
“How on earth would you know that?” Ginny demanded, hardly able to conceive of a moment when she and Draco Malfoy would have stood around all chummy, casually chatting about which professional team she favored the most. At her question, he suddenly froze and looked away huffily, seeming reluctant to answer her question.
“I saw their logo on something you were wearing once,” he mumbled awkwardly, refusing to look at her. Ginny frowned.
“That’s weird, because the only thing I have with their logo on it is that one pair of – oh bloody hell!” she gasped, a cold jolt of horror running down her spine, her eyes wide with surprise. Because the only thing she had with the Cannons logo was the pair of knickers Hermione had given her as a joke for Christmas the year past. “How did you see that??”
“If you weren’t so oblivious to the world, you wouldn’t have been caught by that skirt-shrinking charm so much. The whole school knows what kind of knickers you wear and you have no one to blame but yourself,” he shot back, still not looking at her.
“And whose fault is it that they were even trying to cast that damn charm?? I can’t believe this!” Ginny cried, vowing to herself that if the twins hadn’t yet invented a charm that would allow the earth to open up and swallow her whole, she’d do it herself.
“If there’s anything else I can help you with, be sure to let me know,” Rufus Bringham called out, using their distraction to make his escape, retreating back into the stadium before either of them could say anything else to him. Ginny and Malfoy stared at the close door before turning to each other in awkward silence.
“You realize this is all your fault for being late,” he said gruffly.
“If you were able to maintain some semblance of courtesy and politeness, I wouldn’t have been late!” Ginny retorted defensively, surprised to see her breath frosty in the air. The temperature had dropped significantly since that morning, and Ginny was suddenly grateful that she’d worn her mum’s old ratty scarf. “And what were you trying to do, anyway?”
“You’re poor, aren’t you? But you like Quidditch,” he said casually. Ginny bristled at the matter-of-fact insult, and was about to snap something in response to his insensitive comment, when he continued. “You probably don’t get a chance to see professional Quidditch very often and anyone who claims to love the game just cannot have never seen a real professional team play.”
Ginny stared at him, trying to figure out exactly who was standing in front of her. Draco Malfoy seemed to have innumerable personalities – the cocky jackass who ruled the student body and who threw temper tantrums whenever things didn’t go as he wanted, the all-observant figure that always seemed to be quietly watching her when she least expected it, the gentle and teasing boy that had healed her wrist while joking about her being plain, the vicious and dangerous person who’d led her on a race around the Whomping Willow… and the boy who’d followed her out of Cho’s party after the incident with the spelled mistletoe. And now, here was another one in front of her, someone who was actually quite considerate and had thought about bringing her here because he thought she’d never seen the Cannons play before. He was staring back at her warily, as if trying to gauge her reaction to his explanation. The thing she hated most about Draco Malfoy was his annoying habit of constantly catching her off guard and knocking her off balance. Making a decision she was positive that she would live to regret, she felt it was time for her to return the favor, and knock him off balance for once.
“Well, come along then,” she said, grabbing his hand, and rushing off, leading him towards the school’s main building.
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“Care to explain why we’re breaking into the school, Weasley?” Malfoy asked, sounding mildly amused as she shushed him, glancing around her furtively as she darted out from one of the alcoves that lined the hallway. The hall was dark, empty and eerily quiet. Ginny found it hard to imagine that her parents had ever found this place welcoming enough to still speak of their time as students here in those reverent, nostalgic tones of voice. The place seemed positively cold and gloomy, Ginny couldn’t imagine never leaving or having to call it home.
“If you get me caught, I swear, I will kill you,” Ginny muttered threateningly as she led him forward, lighting their way with her wand. “I’ve been doing with for years and I’ve never been discovered, so please keep your mouth shut.”
“You act as if being at Hogwarts is the worst thing that could ever happen to you, and yet, here you are, a seasoned veteran of infiltrating school grounds,” he commented. Ginny glared at him for speaking, but also because she was disconcerted that he’d picked up on the fact that she hated school more than anything else about her life.
“The Astronomy Tower provides an excellent view of the school grounds,” she whispered. “Including the Quidditch pitch.”
Malfoy stopped in his tracks, and in the dim light, Ginny could see that he looked rather flummoxed by this information, but slowly, he seemed to grow mildly impressed. Ginny regarded him cautiously, unsure what was wrong with him now.
“I didn’t think you were the type,” he said simply, with a knowing grin.
“What do you mean, type?” she demanded as she flounced off, turning left to the staircase that would lead them to the Astronomy Tower.
“The type to break rules in order to gain an advantage on her opponents. You must have gained a lot of insight into the other teams’ strategy and weaknesses while you were up here, where you can see the Quidditch pitch. No wonder Gryffindor has been doing so well lately,” he commented. She laughed, bitterly.
“That’s not at all why I’ve been up here so often. Sorry to disappoint, but the truth is that as much as I love Quidditch, there are many other things I’d rather spend the three Galleons the school started charging as admission to all inter-house games,” she said, as she climbed, her voice infused with a bitter sarcasm. “You can see much better from up here anyway. And, if I happen to accidentally catch a few practices here and there… well, it only added to the appeal.”
“I guess that’s the difference between our two houses, Weasley. While we’re notorious for being deceitful, we are rather open about our penchant for dishonesty, whereas you and your passel of self-righteous Gryffindor act morally superior while hiding the not-so-shiny moral facets of your actions, using the excuse that at least you’re not horrible Slytherins as a way to salvage your rather nagging conscious,” he said with a smirk. Ginny stared at him, unsure what to say, feeling very angry about the way he’d just called her a liar. A self-righteous liar, at that!
“You shouldn’t open your mouth about things you don’t understand,” she mumbled. She swung open the heavy door and led him into the vast emptiness of the Tower. She loved going up there, especially when it was so quietly dark and peaceful on the grounds. It gave whoever went up there a feeling of being suspended in a huge, wide open space – the same freedom that flying gave you.
“I understand more than you think” he said softly, his warm breath tickling her ear as he leaned over behind her as he spoke. “And that’s why I bother you so much.”
“No, you bother me because you know so much and yet you live the life that you do, you do the things that you do to people for no reason other than boredom with your fabulous existence!” Ginny snapped. “Not only do you see and understand what our world is like, but you actively make other people’s lives miserable – that is why I can’t believe I even came with you today.”
“It’s not my responsibility to change the system,” he said, coolly. The gray light from the overcast sky shadowed his face in such a way that he looked ethereally pale, his eyes shining brightly at her.
“You much prefer the status quo, of course, it’s benefited your family remarkably well,” she shouted. His offhand comment – that she chose to ignore the parts of herself that were flawed had opened up a rather large wound, reminding her of all things she found so reprehensible about him and his lifestyle. “I never should have come. I’m going home.”
She stormed towards the door, lost in her anger. She nearly screamed as she felt his arm wind around her waist, yanking her back towards him. Before she could, however, he clamped his other hand over her mouth, causing her to panic. She fought against him, kicking her legs as hard as she could, using her body to struggle against the vise-like grip his strong arms hand her locked in. He was too strong, and easily lifted her off the ground, pulling her away from the door.
“Shut up, Weasley, there’s someone coming,” he muttered hoarsely. She stopped kicking, and squirmed so that he would let her go. She, now that she’d been alerted, could hear the approaching steps and voices.
“You had better hope there was someone up here, Baron, or you’ll find yourself looking for another castle to haunt,” a shrill feminine voice was saying. Ginny looked up at Malfoy – who was still holding her tightly – and tried to convey the seriousness of the situation. For it was none other than the Headmistress who was climbing those steps up to the Tower; Ginny could recognize that voice anywhere. “And you of all people know how haunted this castle is. Getting jumpy over any sighting of strange lights…”
Malfoy’s eyes were darting around the room, as if searching for a miracle solution to their current crisis. It wouldn’t be too terrible for him if he were to be caught, but she couldn’t bear the thought of the troll-sized Howler her mum would send if she were expelled for breaking into the school.
“I’ve got an idea,” he said quietly, locking his eyes on hers. His arm tightly around her, Ginny felt some of her panic dissipate. Despite the argument they’d just had, with that one look, he’d managed to convey that he wasn’t going to let her get caught, that they were in this current crisis together and that she wasn’t alone. Scarcely able to breathe from the impact of that realization, Ginny followed his eyes as he looked away, and felt him move forward, and then she understood where he wanted them to hide.
But she was too late, and before she could say or do anything to protest, he’d pulled her into the small storage closet and had shut the heavy door behind them.
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Draco released the violently squirming girl with a curse, flinching as she landed another well-placed blow to his chest. She fell to the floor and scurried over to a corner, folding herself up into a tight ball without another word. Draco stared at her, incensed. If that’s how she’s going to react every time a bloke tries to save her skin, next time I’ll just let her get caught, he thought angrily.
Of course, she probably didn’t realize just how desperate the situation truly was. He turned away from the bizarre girl he was trapped with, and tried to listen at the door. The heavy oak door wasn’t allowing much sound to penetrate, so he cast a simple charm that his cousin had taught him, from when his parents still lived in Hogsmeade and they’d have “discussions” about “how to handle that unruly girl” while locked away in the library, that augmented his hearing. He leaned against the door and heard the distinctive voice of Bellatrix Lestrange, his aunt and the Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
“There is no one up here!” she snapped angrily. “You’ve become rather paranoid ever since I told you about the escaped convict from Azkaban. Even if he did know a way into the castle, why would he come here? He has no quarrel with me – it’s my sister he has the issue with.”
Draco frowned as he listened to his aunt rail against the ghost, chastising the Bloody Baron for rousing her from her afternoon nap. While it would obviously be unfortunate for Weasley to be caught on school grounds off hours, it would be even worse if they were caught together. He looked back over his shoulder, and in the dim light of her wand – which she was holding up in front of her, clutching it desperately with both hands – he could see that something was definitely off with that girl. Her eyes were wildly darting around her and he could tell, even in the dim light, that her breathing had become fairly laboured. He turned his attention back to what was happening beyond the door, listening to his eccentric aunt argue with the ghost who had become her trusted advisor, especially after the Headmaster’s office had ejected her and barred her from returning after she’d tried to remove and destroy the portraits of past Headmasters whose politics she did not agree with.
“You said you saw lights and heard a door opening?” she was demanding. “You know how the wind howls through this part of the castle, that’s probably what you heard. I really wish you’d stop being so paranoid.”
Draco smiled to himself, having heard countless whispered rumours about his aunt’s sanity. According to the tales, there was some task she’d committed upon the Dark Lord’s orders, and it had weighed so greatly on her conscious that she hadn’t been the same ever since. Even her husband had become so skeptical of her sanity that he’d left her to live in London, leaving her alone in the castle to wander about, trusting only ghosts whom she blamed for all of her own paranoid fears. Draco, however, simply used her eccentricity and their family connection to have his way at Hogwarts. Hearing her now, he was relieved to note she was as badly off as everyone assumed and if he and Weasley were caught, he’d have a good chance of creating some story so that others – his parents, in particular – did not hear of their association.
“Do you have any other suspicions about trespassers to look into, or can I return to my room?” she snapped coldly, sounding so much like his mother that he almost shivered. But then he heard the comforting sound of her footsteps walking away, and he breathed a sigh of relief. He turned back to Weasley, triumphant that his idea had worked out so well, and immediately noted that she looked as mad as his aunt was rumored to be.
She’d backed herself right into the corner, having dropped her wand on the floor. Her arms were pushing against the walls, as if trying to keep them from caving in around her and she was gasping for breath wildly. He was taken aback by this display, having been completely oblivious to the fact that she had been quietly having a complete nervous breakdown while he’d been focusing on his aunt beyond the door. He walked over to her cautiously, his legs feeling heavy, and crouched down in front of her, deciding it was best not to touch her.
“Weasley?” he asked gently, his experience with the frantic women in his life having taught him to proceed carefully. “Are you alright?”
“The door… the door, the door… we need to open the door,” she said breathlessly, her voice barely above a whisper. “It’s too small, too small in here. Not enough air, not enough space, it’s too small.”
Her eyes were staring straight ahead of her, blank and glassy, obviously not seeing him at all. Draco stood up, looking down on the girl in the midst of a serious fit of panic, and darted towards the door, hardly caring if either of them were caught now. She looked positively terrified, and he was helpless to stop it in any way, save getting her out of there. He turned and ran the few steps to the door and slammed his shoulder against it, forgetting to turn the knob in his haste.
He reached down and tried to turn the door knob, and felt his heart drop. It wouldn’t budge. Glancing over his shoulder to ensure she was still occupied because he didn’t want to alarm her any further, he pulled out his wand and tried using Alohamora to unlock the door. He hissed as the spell rebounded, singeing his fingers. Of course, his paranoid aunt would ensure that all locks, even ones to insignificant broom closets, couldn’t be spelled open.
Draco turned back to Weasley, watching hopelessly as she struggled against whatever demons were putting her in such a state, and tried to figure out how he was either going to get her out of there or deliver the bad news without sacrificing a limb – because she looked ready to tear something apart in a fit of hysteria and he was currently the most readily available object in the room.
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The walls were caving in on her, and with every breath she took, there was less air and the walls moved in even further, so she needed to stop breathing, to stop the flood of fear that was taking over her body. She needed to move, to stand up and walk to the door, because Malfoy was there, opening it for her so she could escape this little room, with its collapsing walls and limited amounts of air.
It had all happened so fast – the small dark space, hearing that voice beyond the door, all while she had already been in a panicked state. The dark room was starting to spin and she felt like she was either going to start screaming or suffocating, she wasn’t sure which yet. She heard banging, looking up to see Malfoy kicking at the door, her vision starting to swim when he turned around with a resigned expression on his face.
“The door is locked. We can’t get out that way,” he said. Ginny closed her eyes, willing herself to calm down, to breath slowly, to forget where she was.
“I knew this was a huge mistake,” she gasped, opening her eyes as Malfoy grabbed her hand.
“Well, come on then. We’ll just Apparate out of here,” he said, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
“Don’t you know anything? You can’t Apparate anywhere on the school grounds,” she said, her voice shrill from her emotions. Her eyes were beginning to well up with tears that she couldn’t control and she edged further back into the corner, feeling the cold stone wall press against her skin.
“How do you know that?” he asked skeptically.
“Hogwarts: A History. There’s an entire chapter devoted to it,” she replied, feeling the tight bands of fear that had wrapped around her chest loosen slightly as she remembered Hermione’s insistence that she read the book.
“Wasn’t that banned years ago?”
“I break rules and act morally superior while doing so, remember? It was only banned because it portrayed Salazar Slytherin in a negative light,” she said, casting a wry glance at Malfoy, who’d settled down beside her. She pulled the hand he’d been holding away from his grip, and settled it in her lap, where her fingers immediately began fidgeting testily as she tried to focus on something – anything – other than the fact that the walls were still caving in on them.
“Did it provide any brilliant insight about how to escape locked closets?” he asked lightly, arching one eyebrow as he smirked at her.
“Unfortunately, no,” Ginny replied weakly.
“Then we’re going to be here for awhile,” he said softly, his eyes carefully gauging her reaction to this piece of news. She flinched, squeezing her eyes shut and forcing herself to take a deep breath. “Alright, weasel, what the hell is wrong with you?”
Her natural instinct, which was to remain stubbornly silent so as not to reveal her weakness and the fact that she was slowly falling apart, warred with her commons sense, which told her that she needed to tell him. They were, after all, in this mess together. She forced her eyes open, and met his steady gaze, lamenting that trust, once lost, wasn’t easy to relearn. But he had tried to save her from getting caught, so he deserved to know why she wasn’t currently acting the picture of gratitude.
“I’m a little claustrophobic,” she whispered lamely, and she found herself fighting the hysterical urge to laugh at that complete understatement.
“I’d hate to see the reaction of someone who was extremely claustrophobic,” he said off-handedly, and she was once again struck by how much he noticed, how much he saw. She tried to glare at him, but once she met his eyes, it was hard to remember what she had had in mind. They were shining in the dark, their grayish colour taking on an almost silver quality, and they were just looking at her, quietly taking her in. No judgment, no curious looks trying to discern the reasons for her fear beyond what she had been willing to tell him. She shuddered and tore her eyes away.
“This is all your fault,” she snapped bristly, needing to revert to their usual state of enmity, where she was most comfortable, because it offered them both the most protection from each other.
“My fault? You were the one that was late, which ruined all of my plans and you were the one who insisted on coming up here in the first place,” he said grumpily.
“Don’t act like you’d never have broken into the school otherwise, Malfoy,” she retorted quickly, becoming consumed with their bickering, needing the relief from her fear that it was providing.
“You have a lot of preconceived notions about me, Weasley,” he said, leaning towards her conspiratorily. “I think I’m going to enjoy dismantling a lot of them.”
His sudden nearness and the suggestive tone in his voice was too much for her in her fragile state, when she was unable to bear any kind of infringement on her personal space – not when she was locked in such a small space already. She reacted instinctively, swinging her arm out and pushing him aside with a blunt strike as she scampered away, crawling as quickly as she could to the spot the furthest away from him. She heard him groan in pain, but her heart was pounding so painfully in her chest and her lungs were burning with the need to take gasping breaths, and it was only after minutes had passed, when she regained an ounce of her composure that she squinted in the dim light, to see if he was alright.
He was pushing himself up into a sitting positing very slowly, as if every movement was causing him pain. Ginny was startled; she hadn’t realized that she’d struck him so hard. He looked at her, a heavy stare that communicated that he’d learned his lesson and wouldn’t approach her again. It was then that she noticed the sheen of sweat on his forehead and the slight shiver trembling throughout his body. At that observation, she recalled something Tonks had mentioned to her earlier that day – something about Malfoy going home sick and being too stubborn to take a potion. She cringed, remembering also that he’d spent hours out in the snow waiting for her.
“I’m the one having the mental break down here, Malfoy. Why are you the one who is shaking?” she asked, unconsciously adopting that tone of voice her mum used when she knew Ginny was ill but lying about it so she could still go out and play with her brothers.
“I am not shaking,” he snapped grouchily, looking away from her, folding his arms across his chest. She debated allowing him to suffer in his stubborn denial, but she was her mother’s daughter and nothing triggered her bossiness more than stubborn denials of obvious truths. Concentrating all she could on that aspect of who she is – making herself remember that there was more to her than just a severe terror of small, dark spaces – she managed to move away from the wall, leaning closer to Malfoy. He scowled at her, which only fueled her motivation. She returned the scowl, before firmly planting her hand on his forehead to feel his temperature.
“You’re burning up!” she exclaimed accusatorily.
“And yet, strangely, I feel as if I’m about to die of hypothermia,” he remarked, looking up at her with glassy eyes.
“Tonks said you’d been ill for a few days and had been refusing to take a potion. You realize how ridiculous that is, yes? And spending all that time outside in the cold…” Ginny snapped angrily as she unwound her scarf from her neck.
“What are you planning to do with that?” he asked suspiciously, eyeing her red and gold scarf as if it were a poisonous snake.
“I was thinking of stringing you up with it as punishment for being such an idiot. It would, after all, be fairly easy with you in this weakened state and would certainly put an end to all my problems,” she said sarcastically, stretching out her arms to wrap the scarf around him; his teeth were practically chattering as he shivered. He ducked away, as if afraid of becoming contaminated by it.
“I’m not putting that on!” he snapped. Ginny, ignoring his protestations, reached for him again, and he tried to twist away, but he ended up slumping sideways to the floor with a groan.
“Told you that you’d be fairly easy to handle,” she snarked, forcing him to lie back. She tucked her scarf around his neck and before he could protest, she was shrugging off her robe and draping it over him.
“Won’t you be cold?” he mumbled, and Ginny laughed.
“I’m a weasel, remember? We’re quite resourceful when the time calls for it and have rather thick coats of shiny fur to keep us warm. Besides, I’m not the one with the fever,” she said. Malfoy smiled faintly, almost to himself, then looked up at her, a strange expression on his face. She looked away, but couldn’t help but notice he was still shivering. Reminding herself begrudgingly that she was her mother’s daughter, she scooted closer to him and pulled his head onto her lap, adjusting the scarf where it slipped down in the process. Malfoy stiffened awkwardly, before she felt him relax against her, shooting her a surprised look.
“If you keep this up, I really am going to have to take back your Howler,” he said, with a faint smile that could only be characterized as boyish.
“I told you I wasn’t going to let you off that easily,” she responded.
“Good,” was all he said, before settling down and closing his eyes.
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She had lost track of time – it was impossible to tell in the dark broom closet, but she was fairly certain that it was either very late at night or very early in the morning. She’d dozed off, mercifully, but had woken up when her leg cramped, having been in the same position for hours. And now, she was staring at the wall in front of her, which had an almost nightmarish quality to it in the dim green glow of her wand, pondering the endlessness of this night. Malfoy had barely moved since he drifted to sleep, and without him to serve as a distraction in the silence of the night, she was having a hard time retaining the control she’d won over her fear. She’d tried the spell Hermione had taught her to quell panic, but it had very little effect.
She shifted uncomfortably and released the deep breath she’d been holding. Her heart was pounding again, her stomach was clenched in knots and she had the anxious urge to get up and run as fast as she could, and the knowledge that she couldn’t was slowly becoming too much to bear. Ginny tried to focus on something else, but other than her, Malfoy and a few brooms, the small closet was empty of anything to pull her attention away from the feeling that she was being suffocated.
She felt Malfoy stir, and to her great surprise, he reached up and took her hand, the one that had been resting against his forehead, squeezing it reassuringly. You are not alone, we are in this together. She blinked furiously, afraid she’d burst into tears. Instead, she looked down at him.
“You’re awake,” she said softly. He turned slightly to look at her, his eyes heavy with sleep.
“Yeah,” he said simply, before turning back and resettling his head into a comfortable position on her lap. In the comfortable silence, Ginny felt some of her fear drain away, and sitting in that small dark closet became slightly more bearable.
“You never asked,” she said suddenly.
“About what?”
“About why I’m so claustrophobic.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Most people do. They need to have some kind of reason, a story about a traumatic event or a nightmare, just something to give a reason for it, to make it a legitimate fear.”
“I’m not most people.”
Silence fell over them, but with the reassuring warmth of his hand on hers, Ginny found it easier to bear. She considered, for a moment, the fact that she was locked in a closet with one of her greatest enemies, and that he was lying with his head in her lap while holding her hand because she was afraid of small spaces. It should have been ludicrous, an impossible situation, but somehow, at that moment, it just felt natural. She had a flash of the last time she’d spend such a fearful night, trapped in a small space, but completely alone that time, and she shuddered involuntarily.
“I was four years old. I had been playing at a friend’s house, down in the village close to our house. Mum sent Charlie, my oldest brother, to pick me up and walk me home,” she said, her voice distant. She didn’t know why she was telling him this, but the words just kept coming. “We were supposed to go straight home, but one of his friends – also a wizard – had been bragging that he’d found a dragon’s egg. Since we were already there, he took me to see it. Even then, he was fascinated with dragons. It was really late – dark – when we finally set off for home, worried about how Mum was going to react when we finally showed up.
“Our house is pretty far away from the village, and since we were so late, Charlie offered me a piggy-back ride if we could cut through the forest. I was always scared of it – it was dark and Fred and George always told me horrible stories about things they claimed to find there. But I agreed, because I was tired, but I made him promise to take me out on his broom the next day.
“We came to the edge of the forest, where the trees clear enough so that you can actually see the sky. We’d been laughing because Charlie had done this hilarious impression of the lecture Mum would be waiting to give us, and he suddenly stopped, swinging around so he could block my view of the house. Even at four years old, I knew what the Dark Mark looked like and what it meant to see it over your house. Everyone knew, back then. He tried to block it, but I could still see it.
“It was just there – glittering in the sky, hovering over our house. I don’t think you’ll ever know what that feels like, until you see it over the house of someone you love and know that they’ve probably been killed while you were away. Charlie was a mess – he wanted to run down to the house to find out what was happening, delusions of being a grand hero and saving the family undoubtedly dancing in his head; he would have been quite the Gryffindor had he come to school here. But he couldn’t take me, and he just couldn’t leave me all alone – not in the woods that I was so afraid of.
“We found this spot that was almost like a cave, but much much smaller. I had to squeeze into it, and it was such a tight fit that I could barely breath. It was cold and dark, but Charlie said I had to stay hidden. He made me promise not to move, not matter what happened. And then he left, running to the house.
“I think the worst part was that I could see the Dark Mark from where I was hidden. The whole night, right until the sun came up the next morning, it was the only light in that dark dark night. And I just stared at it, sitting in that small space, terrified that I may never see my family again. The whole night. Charlie never came back for me.” At this, Malfoy squeezed her hand and shifted so that he was looking up at her.
“What happened?” he asked softly, an intense expression on his face that indicated that he might be dreading the answer.
“Someone at the Ministry suspected my father of hoarding Muggle artifacts. He’s an expert in Muggle technology, you see, and can be a little… eccentric. So they raided our house, searching for inappropriate Muggle artifacts. At least that’s what they claimed, but it doesn’t seem to be quite the type of offense that would call for a night raid by Death Eaters,” she lied. As open as she was being, she had her limits. This was still the son of Lucius Malfoy, and she wasn’t going to tell him that the raid had really been ordered because they suspected her father of being a member of the Order of the Phoenix, an ally to Albus Dumbledore and an active participant in various plots to overthrow Voldemort’s regime.
“What happened to your family?” he asked hoarsely, looking almost chagrined as he spoke. Ginny paused, trying to think of why that might be, but then remembered he was ill, after all. Fevers can have strange effects on people’s personalities, she decided, and the effect on his was to make him seem almost human.
“They were taken into custody – all of them. It took almost three months for them to be released,” she said, a hard edge of bitterness in her voice. Those three months had been terrible for her, the first time she’d ever been separated from her family. “After hearing about the raid, and that only 6 children had been taken with my parents, some of their friends came by, hoping to find the 7th. I stayed with them until they were all released. From Azkaban.”
“How did they find you?”
“They almost didn’t. I promised Charlie I wouldn’t move, not until he came for me. At one point, I heard footsteps – you can hear every movement in the wood because the brush is so thick. He was practically on top of my little cave, and I was trapped. I couldn’t move, because there wasn’t enough space and there was nowhere to go. They were going to find me. The footsteps kept circling around that area, until there was someone right in front of where I was hiding,” she said, shutting her eyes as she recalled the suffocating horror of that moment. “I could see Death Eater robes, and knew I was going to be caught. He crouched down, and before I knew it, I was staring at another face. I had been found by a Death Eater.
“But, even though he clearly saw me, he got up and walked away. I guess his loyalty didn’t stretch as far as to surrender little children to the authorities. But the rest of the night, I kept thinking he’d change his mind and come back for me. For the rest of that long, long night. I knew that no one was going to come for me, that Charlie had been taken along with my parents and that I was never going to see them again.
“But then my parent’s friends showed up, and knew exactly where to look for me.” Ginny remembered the sobbing relief she felt as she heard familiar voices calling her name, telling her it was going to be alright and that it was safe to come out. ‘Safe’ had, ever since, taken on an entirely new meaning and would never be the same to her again. Safe meant her mum fussing about, her brother teasing each other, the occasional sound of explosions from the twins’ bedroom and her father’s eyes lighting up over a newly found battery.
“Do you remember who the Death Eater was?”
“No,” she lied. There was no mistaking who those beady black eyes, pasty pale face and greasy hair belonged to, even in the dark of the forest. She supposed, as much as she hated Professor Snape, that she could understand why he was so horrible to her. She knew that he was a spy, that he had worked for both sides during (and after) the war. She’d made the mistake of referencing that event, in her first year, to let him know that she knew and that because he’d left her alone and sent Sirius and Remus to find her, his secret was completely safe with her. He’d instantly become furious and thrown her out of his office. He’d been horrible to her ever since, acting as if the very sight of her was an offense to his very being. But, as much as she abhorred his treatment of her, part of her understood it now, because the knowledge that someone else knew your biggest weakness, your biggest vulnerability, was not an easy thing to deal with. “I never saw him again.
“Look, Malfoy. I have no idea why I’ve told you all of this. It’s not exactly common practice for me to expose the root of my deepest fears to the son of someone I consider to be an enemy,” she said. Flinching as she realized what she’d said, she continued. “…Neither is telling the son that I think of his father as an enemy, because I generally try to at least pretend that I’m alright with Voldemort and the way he runs the wizarding world. But the truth is, I’m really not. And during our argument earlier, you made it pretty clear that we’re on opposite sides of that fence.”
“Hold on, weasel,” he protested, sitting up quickly.
“Now, Malfoy, I don’t know exactly what you had in mind when you asked me to meet you – whether you were really… you know, asking me on a date, or if you really were planning something more sinister. But it doesn’t matter, because what I just told you – that moment in my life – is a huge part of who I am and what I believe,” she explained earnestly. “Which is why, no matter your motivation, I really can’t have anything more to do with you.”
“That’s complete rubbish, Weasley!” he snapped angrily.
“It’s not too hard to understand if you’ve ever seen the Dark Mark over the house of someone you love and not known whether or not they were still alive. Which I pretty sure you haven’t!” she retorted. Malfoy was glaring at her indignantly, appearing ready to launch another protest, but whatever he had been planning to say was interrupted when the door to the closet opened, flooding it with sunlight, which stung their eyes and caused them both to gasp.
“No one is supposed to be up here!” the house elf cried anxiously. “It’s Sunday, I clean on Sundays, nobody is supposed to be here!”
Ginny didn’t care what else the house elf had to say, because all that mattered was that the door was open and she was free. She jumped up and dashed forward, staggering under cramped and stiff legs, and didn’t stop until she was at the giant window, fumbling with the latch. She threw it open, and stuck her head out, breath deep the fresh air, opening her eyes to the wide landscape, the hills that seemed to go on indefinitely and the bright morning sky. She could see it all from so high up, and nothing ever felt so good as the sweet relief of being released from her suffocating fear.
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They had walked slowly down from the Tower, after Malfoy had gruffly threatened the elf with horrible consequences if he ever revealed he’d seen them there, both stiff and sore from their night together. A heavy silence was hanging between them, loaded with the unfinished business of their interrupted argument.
They reached the road that lead back to Hogsmeade, and paused. Ginny swung her robe on, wanting nothing more than to flee from the intense stare Malfoy was giving her.
“Are you alright to get home?” she asked, concerned that he still appeared rather ill. He nodded without saying anything. “Well, then… goodbye.”
She turned away, but Malfoy put a hand on her shoulder. She looked at him, unsure what else the two could possibly say to each other. His eyes met hers, burning with intensity – that same look that almost hypnotized her whenever she was on the receiving end of it. He leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers. It was quick, over in barely an instant, and yet it still managed to steal her breath and send a thrill down her spine.
He stepped back quickly, looking away as if embarrassed.
“Thank you,” he said awkwardly, shrugging a bit as his fingers played with the ends of her scarf, which was still wrapped around his neck.
“You’re welcome,” she said, unsurely. Malfoy looked back at her, apparently over his split-second bout with humility, as he was suddenly the arrogant and conceited jerk he always was, smiling cockily at her.
“Of course, if you had let me die or suffer unduly while we were trapped there, I would’ve had to kill you,” he said with a characteristically arrogant bluster. Ginny stared at him in disbelief, before rolling her eyes and turning back to the road and walking away. It wasn’t until she was sure he couldn’t se her that she began to run as fast as she could.
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Credit these ideas to HYD:
1) Ginny refusing to go on the date, but changing her mind half way through the day and running off to find him, and Malfoy having waited for her the whole day;
2) Them getting stuck some place and having to be there the whole night;
3) Malfoy getting sick and Ginny deciding to care for him.
The rest is mainly mine, or has been warped so badly beyond recognition from the HYD plot that I couldn't remember that I'd taken it. In particular, Ginny's claustrophobia and the event in her life that caused it was definitely mine and comes from my weird need to have dark, twisted pasts for my main characters.
I have no idea the lay-out of the Burrow in relation to everything else around it - for all I know, there IS no forest or village nearby, but I needed and it's AU, remember? Same goes with the layout of Hogwarts - I have no idea if the Quidditch pitch can be seen from the Astronomy Tower or even what the Astronomy Tower really is. These are two instances where I haven't purposely altered canon in order to fit the AU, I just didn't know.
Thanks a bunch to all those who take a few moments to leave comments, I really appreciate hearing your thoughts.
More soon!
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