A/N: I feel as though I should just mention that there is some violence in this chapter of a particularly sensitive nature, but it's not graphic or anything, but still, you've been warned.
And even though I feel a little cheesy, this chapter is totally dedicated to birdofprey09 and mima_soo, for listening as I tried to work out some of things decisions I was agonizing over with this chapter. Thanks for all your help and comments!
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Chapter 4: Stepping Up the Game
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Draco Malfoy said, his voice calm yet cold, as he studied the chess board in front of him. Vincent Crabbe, his opponent, had just taken his castle.
“But we’ve tried everything we could think of, and everything Pansy Parkinson told us to do, and none of it has worked!” the terrified fifth year Slytherin, Simon Stanley, tried to explain.
“Everything we could think of! All of the usual things – we even got Snape to kick her out of class for cheating, and got the Gryffindor Quidditch team to toss her! She just won’t break!” Paul Green, a sixth year, agreed. The two boys stood in awkward silence as Draco continued to study the board, before ordering his knight to take Crabbe’s queen.
“What I would like for you to do,” he said as his knight began to demolish the black queen, to the jeering of his other pieces, “is to use your brain. Obviously, this girl is different. Therefore, you have to adjust your tactics to fit that difference.”
The two younger boys stared at each other in confusion, both not quite grasping what he was implying.
“What do you mean by that? What should we do?” Simon asked nervously. Draco fixed his steely gaze on him, ignoring Crabbe’s triumphant cry as he checked Draco’s king. He stood up, so that he was facing them, arms crossed and a dangerously irritated look on his face.
“If you expect to take over the school once we’ve graduated, I would hope that you start grasping the basics. Know your enemy, boys. This girl is textbook Gryffindor. What is important to Gryffindors, what do they value the most? Tell me,” he snapped.
“Courage, doing the right thing, looking out for others, that whole moral superiority thing they have going on,” Simon parroted.
“They’re not getting it, Draco, you should just consider them a lost cause,” Goyle called from the corner of the room, where he had been chatting up two women, causing the occasional burst of giggles to disrupt the otherwise quiet of the empty bar.
“Honestly, I don’t know what they’re teaching these young kids these days,” Crabbe said sadly, shaking his head.
“Well, I hope, for your own sake, that you figure out the answer fairly soon. I won’t tolerate failure twice,” Draco said ruthlessly. “Do whatever it is you have to do, but I want her gone by tomorrow.”
The two boys scurried out of the room, eager to be away from the danger of simply being around the tempestuous nature of Draco Malfoy. After they’d left, Draco turned back to the chessboard, ready to continue his game.
“Is it my move?” he asked Crabbe. Crabbe shook his head with a laugh.
“I’ve already checked your king, mate. Game’s over,” he said. Draco stared down at the board for a minute, assessing the position of his king and Crabbe’s pieces. Upon realizing that Crabbe had indeed lost, he picked up the board and flipped it off the table, scattering squealing chess pieces across the floor.
“Let’s play something else, chess is a ridiculously pointless game,” he said, a scowl on his face.
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“What do you mean, he let you stay at the Quidditch pitch?” Hermione demanded, her brow wrinkled, as she scrubbed the countertop furiously.
“Well, you see, it’s his special spot, and I was there, disturbing the quiet and he had told me to leave. But I guess he thought I could use it more than he, so he left, letting me hide out there until class was over. I told you he was different from the rest of those Slytherin bastards,” Ginny exclaimed, her eyes bright as she recounted the only high point of her day.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the pitch accessible to all students? It’s not his place, exactly, and so, doesn’t everyone has the equal right to be there when there’s not a practice or a game taking place?” Hermione asked, a trace of humor in her voice. Ginny scowled.
“Of course we all have rights to it – in theory. But if a seventh year Slytherin feels that it’s his place and doesn’t want to be bothered by a lowly sixth year Gryffindor, then by all means, it’s his place and his right to ask me to leave. It’s just the way that the social hierarchy works at Hogwarts, Hermione,” she explained, storing the empty Butterbeer bottles in their case as she continued to clean the bar area.
“So, you’re saying that this Blaise Zabini, who you think is so different from the rest of them, follows this social hierarchy and asked you to leave a public area where all students have the right to be because he thinks of the place as ‘his’?” Hermione asked, one hand on her hip and a skeptical look on her face. Ginny paused, considering her words, searching wildly for a way to defend the handsome boy and her own belief that he was different from the rest of them. Her temper sparked when she came up empty, and she stomped into the backroom, searching for another empty box for the rest of the bottles littering the tables. She came back a minute later with a triumphant smile.
“If he really believed in what his friends were doing, he wouldn’t have just left me alone! He would have found some way to torture me! And that proves he’s different!” she cried, with a pointed look at her intelligent friend. Hermione was a very difficult person to prove wrong, and whenever Ginny managed to do it, she considered it a great victory.
“But he didn’t necessarily protest their actions or try to stop them, either,” Hermione said softly. With that, Ginny dropped her box of empty bottles, and stared at her friend with a look of utter exasperation.
“You, Hermione Granger, are far too practical to be of any help when it comes to matters of romance. You don’t have a hopelessly romantic bone in that sensible body of yours! You need to start looking at the world with something other than your brain every one in awhile,” Ginny cried.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t think a popular boy deciding not to bully you is the epitome of romance,” Hermione scoffed, picking up the broom and beginning to sweep. Ginny frowned, and felt slightly deflated. Now that Hermione had effectively burst her little bubble, the full effects of her day seemed to hit her all at once. She was exhausted, aching in the many places where she’d be bumped or pushed, and the ball of dread that had formed in her stomach that morning when she’d ripped open the Howler hardened even more, reminding her of her predicament.
“Maybe you’re right,” Ginny said softly. “But it’s nice to think that there is someone who, while he may not be on my side, he’s at least not against me, like everyone else in that bloody school is. I had no idea how much people hated me until today, since they’ve always just left me alone.”
“You’re talking about that Pansy girl? Her and her mindless twittering followers were in here a few days ago. Made a bloody mess and didn’t leave enough Galleons to cover their bill, and when I confronted them about it as they were leaving, she tore into Madame Rosmerta like I’ve never heard, saying that the whole thing was my fault,” Hermione grumbled. “You should be careful of her, Ginny. I’d be more worried about her than I would of that Malfoy guy.”
“Pansy I can handle. She’s just mad because I’ve become the center of attention, even under these circumstances. Once everyone forgets about me, she’ll go back to ignoring me,” Ginny said grimly. She looked around the restaurant, sighing at the sight of all the work the two girls had left to finish off before they could leave that night. It had been very busy, and the rest of the staff had left them to close. Hermione stared at her friend, who seemed to have lost the energy she’d had while detailing her interaction with Blaise Zabini, and sighed herself.
“Ginny, why don’t you go? I can finish off here, and you’re going to have quite the day tomorrow,” Hermione offered. Ginny smiled but shook her head.
“Thanks, but it won’t take too long with the two of us. And tomorrow… well, tomorrow will be tomorrow, no matter what I do today, so there’s no use in hiding from it,” she said grimly, picking up her bar towel and setting back to work.
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The second day was about the same as the first. By the end of it, Ginny was disheveled, tired, slightly bruised and in a foul temper. Through the conspiring of her classmates, she’d been tossed out of three classes, given four detentions, and everyone in the school seemed to have heard about the Stinksap incident from yesterday, and tried to bodycheck her into that small alcove where the towering plant stood every time she had to pass by it – which was no less than five times a day. But, as Hermione had predicted, she’d been able to start anticipating their tactics, and was able to dodge some of the more despicable attempts to torture her. By the end of the day, despite enduring a full day of bullying, Ginny was feeling rather good. It hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t gotten any worse than yesterday, and she beginning to think that maybe she’d already survived the worst of it.
After serving Snape’s detention, where he’d made her extract and preserve seventeen jars of Stinksap while watching with a cruel smile on his face (he’d obviously heard about yesterday’s incident), she was feeling fairly elated. She was free of this hell until the next morning, and the hallways were empty and quiet, so she could let her guard down, as she walked down the staircase, her head occupied with thoughts of flying. She had a new maneuver she wanted to try out on her broomstick on the way back to Hogsmeade. She knew for a fact that as soon as this whole ordeal was over, the team would ask her back – she was one of the better flyers on the team, and they needed her if they expected to have any chance at the Cup. Gryffindors were outnumbered at the school, so the pool of talent they had to draw from was very small, especially when compared to the other Houses, like Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
She was so wrapped up in the thoughts of her broomstick that she was caught completely by surprise when someone grabbed her from behind. Strong arms locked around her body, rendering her own hands immobile as she wrestled for her wand, flattening them against her body. Another hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. She started to kick her feet and tried to twist her body free, but her attacker was just too strong for her.
“Quick, grab her legs!” the guy who had ordered, and another figure emerged from the shadows, tentatively trying to grab her flailing legs and she kicked out at him. She recognized him – Paul Green, a fifth year Slytherin. He managed to lock his arms around her legs, even as she struggled, trying to scream against the hand pressed against her mouth, and then she felt them lifting her up, and carrying her down the hall, jostling.
She struggled against the grip around her arms, the knowledge that her wand was in the pocket of her robes, and her hand was only a few inches from reaching it. She could see the one who held her legs kicking open and door, and they dragged her into a dark and empty classroom, dropping her to the ground once they were inside and the door was shut. She fell hard, banging her head, causing her vision to swim as her eyes watered from the pain.
“Do you think anyone saw us?” the other one asked. In the dim light, Ginny could barely make out his face, but while she couldn’t put a name to him, she recognized him as a sixth year Slytherin as he peered out in the hall, checking to see if anyone was out there. Paul Green shrugged his shoulders, and glanced back at Ginny. Even in the poor lighting, she could see a look in his eyes that caused her heartbeat to start racing with panic.
She struggled to stand, whipping her wand out of her pocket, but before she was able to do anything with it, they were on her again. The large sixth year grabbed her wrist, squeezing painfully until she cried out in pain and had to drop her wand, for fear that he’d snap the bone. His other arm grabbed her shoulder and he used his weight to force her to the ground. She tried to wrench herself free, but before her small effort could yield any success, he had her arms pinned to the ground above her head with one hand, and his knees pinning her into place. Feeling sick with fear, Ginny’s panic had her legs kicking wildly, trying to jerk herself from his captivity.
“Paul, grab her legs!” the one holding her down ordered. The other boy ran over, and tried to restrain her legs. She got one good kick in to his face before he succeeded.
“Just get this over with, Simon,” he said. The one restraining her looked down at her with a smile, his free hand grabbing her face and holding it in place, so that Ginny had no choice but to look at him.
“You should have just left yesterday, you stupid bitch! You’ve brought this on yourself!” he grunted. Without even thinking, without even considering the consequences, Ginny retaliated the only way she could in her restrained state – she spat in his face.
“You bitch!” he exclaimed, striking her across the face, his face purple with rage. Pain exploded across her cheekbone, and she cried out. A faint metallic taste filled her mouth, and she figured his blow had probably split her lip, even as a dizzying buzzing noise filled her ears. His hand was grabbing at her blouse, and she heard the sickening sound of material ripping when a voice from somewhere in the room halted his actions.
“What’s going on here?” a voice asked, filled with a quiet authority. Her attackers froze, turning their heads to a corner of the classroom. Ginny strained her neck to see who it was and felt a wave of relief wash over her as she saw that it was Blaise Zabini, seated casually with his legs propped up on a desk, a book in hand. His eyes flicked from her face to the two boys holding her down, and he sighed heavily, standing up.
“Let her go,” he ordered.
“But Malfoy told us to!” Paul Green protested. Blaise, who was now towering over them with his arms crossed menacingly, glared at him, his dark eyes practically glowing with anger.
“I said let her go!” he exclaimed. Jumping with fear, Ginny’s attackers released her and bolted for the door.
Finally free, the adrenaline pumping through her veins caused her limbs to shake as she scrambled to sit up. She glanced down at her blouse, noting that three buttons had been ripped off and that the sleeve was slightly torn. Turning away from Blaise, who had crouched down across from her, staring at her with dark eyes, she pulled her robe tighter, trying to cover the damage and scrape together some shred of dignity. Only then, when she realized how ridiculous that thought was in the light of what could have happened to her if he hadn’t been there, did the weight of her fear and panic finally catch up with her as the adrenaline wore off. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears, and her hands were badly shaking.
Even as she was crying softly, wishing that he would leave so she could sob unrestrainedly without him having to see it, she could feel his eyes on her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to collect herself before she turned around, wanting to thank him for stopping them for being there, for saving her. But, as her eyes met his serious gaze, the words choked on her tears, and only a sob escaped, even as she tried quell it by covering her mouth. He looked away, down the book in his hand.
“There was a team practice down at the pitch today,” he said with a shrug, his eyes meeting hers. With that he stood up, and started to leave.
“Thank you,” she stammered, her face burning, embarrassed without really knowing why. He paused, and sighed.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said quietly, before he left the empty classroom, the door closing behind him with a thud.
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Hermione Granger was just putting the finishing touches on her essay detailing the proper procedure for transfiguring mice to earmuffs, glancing at the clock and wondering if she had enough time to add another few inches to it before she had to make for the post office so she could send it off to her professor and turn up for her shift at the Three Broomsticks, when there was a knock on her door. Curious as to whom it could be, she laid her quill down and walked the few feet across her flat to the door. Opening it, she cried out in alarm.
“Ginny! What’s happened to you?” she asked, taking the younger girl by the arm and leading her inside. One side of her face was slightly bruised and swollen, there was a bit of blood smeared around her mouth where her lower lip had split, her eyes were red from crying, and even though she had her robe wrapped around her, Hermione could see that her blouse was torn.
Later, Hermione handed her friend a cup of tea, her essay and her shift completely forgotten. Freshly showered and wrapped tightly in Hermione’s fluffy bathrobe, Ginny took the cup gratefully. Hermione sat down across from her, her eyes dark with worry.
“Ginny, you need to tell someone what’s happened! It shouldn’t matter what kind of social hierarchy you have at that school, this is completely inexcusable, and no Headmaster worth his salt would allow this to continue!” she suddenly exclaimed, as if it had been on the tip of her tongue for awhile and had finally burst free of its own accord. Ginny smiled, and looked down at her mug.
“I know. But if I tell, my parents will find out. And if they find out, they’d make me leave the school,” she said quietly.
“That might be for the best. I don’t know why you’d want to go back there ever again, after this,” Hermione sniffed. Ginny shook her head.
“Don’t you see, Hermione? If I leave – if I retreat with my bloody tail between my legs, then they win. If I quit, then that bastard Malfoy wins, and it just means that he can keep doing this to other people. I have to go back, or else he wins,” she repeated, mostly to herself, as she stared off into space. Hermione sighed and shook her head.
“But Ginny! It’s not safe for you there!” she protested.
“I’ll just have to be more careful. I let my guard down because no one was around, I thought I’d be alright because it was after school hours. I’ll just have to be more careful, try to attract less attention. Sit in the back of my classes, make sure I’m not in any deserted hallways,” Ginny said, with determination.
“But you shouldn’t have to! Not at school, for god’s sake! This isn’t fair!” Hermione cried.
“Hermione, there are a lot of things about this world that aren’t right,” she said, her voice quiet and soft. “You grew up in the Muggle world, so you know just how different things are for wizards. But while Voldemort is in power, we have to live this way. The powerful, the loyal, the purebloods, the rich – they make the rules, and anyone who doesn’t follow them gets crushed beneath them. It’s not fair – it’s not fair that I’m the only one of all my siblings that are allowed to attend Hogwarts, it’s not fair that I have to live so far away from my family, it’s not fair that my parents work day and night for some pathetic Ministry wage that could barely cover my tuition, it’s not fair that a girl as bright as you can only take correspondence magic courses when there are idiots like Pansy Parkinson attending the finest wizarding school in Europe. None of this is fair, but it’s the way this world works, and I have no choice but to try to survive in it.”
“Ginny…” Hermione said, her eyes shining. Ginny smiled weakly at her.
“If you let them crush you underneath all that unfairness, then they win. And poor as we are, Weasleys are not losers,” Ginny said. Hermione lunged forward, hugging her and spilling hot tea into her lap in the process, and Ginny felt some degree of satisfaction that Hermione, at least, had bought her brave act, even despite the fact thather swollen lower lip had trembled through the entire speech.
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“Blaise! You actually came!” Crabbe cried in surprise, as Blaise Zabini ambled into the private room of the Hog’s Head, where many Slytherins had gathered. Draco Malfoy looked up, and waved his friend over to the table where he, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were seated. Blaise nodded, and after exchanging a few pleasantries with the girls who stopped him to chat, he made his way through the room and sat down across from Draco.
“Thought that this wasn’t your scene,” Goyle commented as he eyed a pretty blonde across the room.
“I felt like hanging out tonight, and you’re all here,” Blaise said, shrugging casually. Draco smiled, and after titling his glass back, emptying its contents and slamming it down on the table – which was greeted by a chorus of oohs from Pansy and Millicent – he looked at his best friend.
“It’s good that you’re here, Blaise. We’ve just been discussing what to do about that bloody Weasley girl. I can’t leave this to our incompetent followers anymore, they keep messing it up. It’s time I took a personal role in this one,” Draco said, casting an angry glance at two boys cowering in the corner.
“How long are you planning on continuing this?” Blaise asked, his voice neutral, but Draco noted a seriousness in his eyes that caught his attention. He frowned, and he paused, obviously thinking it over.
“I don’t think she’s going to quit. She’s obviously very stubborn, or she wouldn’t have lasted two full days already. If she’s not going to quit, then I want to see her break, I want that pride of hers to be wiped away somehow,” he said, a smirk on his face. “I’ll call if off when we’ve made her… when we’ve made her cry.”
“Then you’ve already accomplished your goal,” Blaise said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Draco stared at him, perplexed.
“When did that happen?” he demanded, suddenly angry.
“Just after your two thugs dragged her into an empty classroom, pinned her down and tried to tear off her clothes,” Blaise said, his voice still calm and even. Draco’s face froze, obviously taken aback by this information.
“They did what?” Draco asked after a long pause, his voice low and dangerous.
“They pulled her into a classroom and tried to rip off her blouse. And they hit her pretty hard, too, before I stopped them. Made her lip bleed,” Blaise said, leaning forward. Draco’s eyes had grown darker, and his jaw was clenched.
“But she’s a girl. They hit a girl…” he muttered, casting a dangerous glance over at Paul Green and Simon Stanley.
“Look, Draco, I can go along with your plans as long as they’re pretty harmless. Stupid pranks and jokes aren’t a big deal, because I know how she insulted you and everything. But you and I,” Blaise said, leaning closer, trying to edge out Pansy Parkinson, whose ears were straining to hear every word, and lowering his voice. “You and I always said that our generation would do things differently.”
A dead silence fell over the table, as their friends looked nervously between the two of them, the atmosphere growing very tense. Someone had just made the merest suggestion that something that Draco had done was wrong, an occurrence that was completely unheard, even from one of his best friends. They were all anxious as to how Draco would react to this.
His face was impassive as he nodded slowly at Blaise’s words, but there was a hard glint in his eyes. He sat back, picking up another glass and knocking back its contents, as his friends watched his reaction, tense with silence. He set the glass down, staring at it for a few moments. Finally, he looked up and noticed their eyes that were on him, and with a smile, he shrugged.
“I just give the orders. It’s not any of my concern how they’re carried out,” he said lightly, and his friends sighed, and returned to their conversations, a potential crisis averted. Only Blaise Zabini, from where he was seated directed across from him, noted the barely concealed rage in his eyes and knew that his words were said only for the benefit of those who were listening, and that he had entirely different designs for the two Slytherins who’d misconstrued his instructions so grievously.
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Ginny crept into the Great Hall, thankful that it was almost halfway through the lunch hour, and most of the students were busy eating or gossiping to notice her as she entered. She scanned the faces of the crowd quickly, and smiled to herself as she realized that the room was mostly empty of Slytherins. With that knowledge, she found a nearly empty table near the back of the hall, and sat herself down, letting the tension ease from the body. She threw down the heavy textbook she was carrying, the roll of parchment listing the questions she'd been given by Snape as a 'make up' assignment for the test she'd failed, and a thick envelope containing a letter from home that she'd found on her door that morning.
She stared at the envelope, debating with herself whether or not to open it. It was rare for her to receive two letters in one week, so it could be important news she had to read right away. But, she'd already received a letter, only a few days ago, and her mother was aware of her tendency to savour her letters, reading them slowly so that the slight connection they gave her to her family would last longer, and would have indicated that it was important she open it right away. She should save it, considering how things were going, for when she might really need the familiar comfort of her mother's handwriting and the no-nonsense instructions that always littered her mother's letters. But, her parents were due to visit shortly, as her mother had mentioned in her last letter. At the end of next week, she’d have a few precious hours with them, so surely opening the letter and reading it all wouldn’t be a complete waste.
And after the week she'd been having, she deserved it. Shortly after she arrived at school, a little bit late for Snape's class (this was, she grumbled to herself, the reason he'd assigned her to write out the ingredients and procedures for brewing 134 potions as a make-up assignment), she'd caught a group of fifth year Slytherins huddled in the hall. Ginny had frozen to the spot when she recognized Simon Stanley; one of the boys who'd attacked her the day before. Startled, she quickly grabbed her wand, and held it tightly in her hand as she passed by, barely daring to look in his direction.
But the strangest thing had happened. As she walked by Stanley and the group of four Slytherin hanging around him, a silence fell over them, and they all froze as she passed. Feeling vulnerable, she turned her head to look at them, and Stanley made a sound that was very similar to a yelp, and dashed off down the hallway. But before he could disappear around a corner, she was shocked to see that the big and physically intimidating boy appeared to have a black eye, had his left arm bandaged and hung in a sling, and appeared to be walking with a slight limp. She stopped in her tracks to wonder what could have happened to him, but remembering the fear that had been gnawing at her ever since yesterday's encounter, she decided that whatever it was, he'd gotten what he deserved and that was all she needed to know.
When she'd reached Snape's class, he'd greeted her with his usual scowl and informed her that Professor McGonagall needed to see her at the beginning of lunch. McGonagall, despite being despised by pretty much all the Slytherins and anyone associated with the current Voldemort regime, was widely acknowledged as one of the best Transfigurationists in the world. She was tolerated as a teacher, so long as her students continued to learn, and she remained neutral on all questions of politics, for, while there was no proof, it was no secret that she had been a top-level member of Dumbledore's faction before he disappeared. Now, she was the Head of Gryffindor, the dwindling House that no other professor wanted, but Ginny had a great deal of respect for the aging professor. She was definitely the epitome of all things Gryffindor - a very courageous lady. However, she was also as strict as could be, and an extremely demanding professor who knew Ginny's parents very well and often sent them personalized reports detailing how Ginny's performance at Hogwarts might improve greatly if she would just stop provoking Professor Snape. Figuring that McGonagall would want to discuss her recent failing marks, Ginny had sighed with resignation. She was already feeling fairly numb from everything that had happened, whatever it was McGonagall had to say couldn't hurt her much more than she was already hurting.
But it had been much worse than she'd anticipated. As she timidly entered her office, the stern-faced teacher had simply motioned to her to sit down, and she made her sit in silence for almost ten minutes as she read over a very long piece of parchment.
"Well, Miss Weasley, I've just been going over a number of comments from your teachers from the past two days. It seems you've been causing quite a ruckus in your classes. Care to explain?" she asked, her tone frosty. Ginny froze, unsure of how to respond. If she revealed the truth of it all, that she was being victimized and attacked by her fellow students for committing the grievous crime of defending a friend, there was no doubt in her mind that McGonagall would turn around the instant she left the classroom and send a lengthy owl off to her parents, to warn them of what was happening to their only daughter. But at the same time, McGonagall was one of the faculty sponsors of her scholarship - if she thought for an instant that Ginny wasn't taking her classes completely seriously, she wouldn’t hesitate to withdraw that support. Ginny stared back at the unyielding face, struggling to find a solution.
"And I've also heard that you've been charged with a very disturbing accusation of cheating in Professor Snape's class, that you've failed a test in Charms, you've been given four detentions in the past two days and been told to leave three of your classes," she continued, her voice stern and sharp. Ginny grimaced, biting her lip as she waited for the lecture to come, but decided to try to come up with some excuse.
"Professor, I know this all looks bad, but I assure you there is an explanation for it," she said, hoping to sound as sincere and apologetic as possible. McGonagall lifted an eyebrow, as if waiting for that explanation, and shook her head when Ginny found herself lacking one.
"Well, Miss Weasley, I would certainly love to hear your explanation as to how, after the repeated warnings that you've had both from me and your parents, you've managed to offend Draco Malfoy and his group of miscreants." Ginny stared at her in shock.
“How could you tell?” she asked, her voice quiet with awe. McGonagall, despite herself, smiled at her young student.
“Because I’ve been teaching at this school for years, and I know that a good student who is usually able to stay out of trouble – except in a certain professor’s class, and I do wish you’d stop antagonizing Snape – does not suddenly decide one day to be unruly and to fail or cheat on tests. This is the work of the Slytherins; of that, I have no doubt. However, this does put you into a very difficult position, in a number of ways, I’m afraid,” McGonagall said, her face transitioning from a knowing smile to a very grave expression.
“This will put my scholarship at risk,” Ginny said, bleakly.
“But there is more to it,” McGonagall said, her voice growing serious as she leaned forward conspiratorially. “You are the daughter of Arthur Weasley, a man with a number of enemies and too few friends at the Ministry. It’s going to be hard enough for you once you graduate, but if you have any desire to help us in the future to change things for the better, it’s imperative that you remain unnoticed by any of them, and you especially cannot be seen as an enemy.”
“I’m not; I’m just a target,” Ginny said, slightly bitter. She sighed heavily, and looked away from McGonagall’s stern face. “I’ve been told to stay quiet, to avoid notice, to focus on school, and how important all this is. The past five years haven’t been particularly easy, having to stand by and just watch some of the complete nonsense that goes on around here. No one stands up to them! Nobody has the courage to do it, or they just don’t seem to get angry enough to just come out and say that it’s not right. Well, they were picking on my friend, and I got angry, so I told them to stop. I won’t apologize for doing the right thing, even if it jeopardizes my future. Not that there’s much of a future for anyone who isn’t one of Voldemort’s loyalists.”
“That’s very disappointing to hear, Miss Weasley. I suggest you consider the sacrifices your parents have made to send you here, if you need to be reminded of how important this is to them,” she said briskly, standing, signaling that their meeting had ended.
And now she was sitting in the Great Hall, almost completely ignored and feeling rather low, and staring at the tempting envelope laying on the table in front of her. After a cursory glance around to make sure that no one had taken any notice of her, she snatched it up and tore it open, unfolding the parchment.
Dear Ginny,
Just a quick note today, dear, as I’m practically dashing around the house, trying to get all the boys off to work before I have to leave myself. I’ve been putting off writing this for over a day, because I hate to disappoint you, but our schedules for next week have changed, and your father and I won’t be stopping over in Hogsmeade after all. Dad is being sent to Berlin to investigate some new Muggle device, and I’m going to be needed at the Ministry. They’re holding some big event for all the Ministers, and needed some catering done, and I couldn’t very well turn them down.
But don’t worry, we’ll get together before the year is out, I promise. Your brothers send their love, and Fred and George wanted me to tell you they finally worked out a charm to block that Bat Boogey hex of yours and they’d like a new challenge the next time we’re all together. I do wish those two would spend half as much effort on more productive things than they do on their practical jokes and curses.
Take care, dear, and keep working hard!
Love Mum
Ginny set the letter down, and had to blink furiously in order to keep the tears from overflowing. She was lost in a fog of disappointment, and just sat, staring at the black ink on the parchment, feeling completely defeated.
She was so consumed with her own misery that she failed to realize that someone was standing over her, staring down at her, and that all the students in the Great Hall were watching her. It was only after a few minutes of utter silence had passed, causing Ginny to look up, wondering if she’d been staring for so long that she’d missed the start of the next class, that she realized that Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her, with his arms crossed and his steely gray eyes fixed on her.
She jumped slightly, and looked up at him warily. He seemed to be staring at the side of her face that was still slightly swollen and sore from the blow she’d taken yesterday at the hands of his minions, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. Not now, she thought, just please…not now. I don’t have the energy to deal with this. She stared back at him, trying to muster a defiant expression, when his eyes fell on the letter in front of her. He leaned forward, putting his hands flat on the surface of the table, so that his eyes were level with hers and his face was a mere breadth away.
“What have we here, little weasel?” he asked, his voice slick with mocking. Those in earshot heard him, and started to laugh, and Ginny knew that by the end of the day, she’d no longer be known as Ginny Weasley, she’d be the Weasel. She bristled, reaching to snatch the parchment out of his line of sight, but his hand was on one corner, trapping in place. He smiled – a satisfied, smug kind of smile.
“It is somewhat reassuring to know that even the common trash of the wizarding world, such as your mother, at least know how to read and write,” he said, his voice loud and echoing throughout the silent hall. “If we have to endure your presence, contaminating our society, it’s a small comfort to see that there is some form of education among the lower classes.”
Ginny heard a smattering of laughter dispersed around the room, and felt her face burn as he insulted her mother. Her hands clenched into a fist as she glared at him, pure hatred coursing through her veins.
“And one has to commend the efforts you make to try to better yourself. You try to educate yourself, to improve your status, you try to fit in with the superior class, but it’s a wasted effort. I know this,” he said, casually picking up her mother’s letter, “I know this because I am one of your superiors, and as your better, I can assure you that it will never work. You can never become one of us.”
A few students cheered and she could see Pansy Parkinson laughing with her gaggle of followers out of the corner of her eye. The condescending tone in his voice made her so angry, but as she bit her lip to keep from screaming the retorts she so longed to scream, a sharp hiss of pain reminded her of the dangers of confronting Draco Malfoy, as she aggravated the wound she’d received yesterday. The ball of fear, forgotten as she lamented her recent misfortune, returned and hardened in her stomach as she realized that he was still only a few inches away from her, that he was twice her size and surrounded by people who’d do anything he’d tell them to do.
“Who says I even want to become one of you?” she muttered under her breath, looking away. The few people around her, who heard what she’d said, gasped in shock. Malfoy, who’d been prepared to turn away, paused. Ginny cursed her tongue when she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, and a tinge of red staining his pale cheeks.
“You can’t help it. Someone with your pathetic existence? It’s only natural that you aspire to greatness,” he said, his clipped words dripping with arrogance. He held up her letter, turning slowly so that everyone in the Great Hall could see it. When he was facing Ginny again, he slowly ripped the parchment down the center, drawing an anguished cry of protest from Ginny. His eyes met hers, and he smiled at her – a twisted smile that was part triumph and part smugness – as he continued to shred the letter to pieces, which scattered to the floor. “But your reality means that you can never attain it.”
“Aww, the Weasel looks like she’s about to cry!” Pansy’s shrill voice called out, mocking her as Ginny rushed to the floor, trying to gather up the pieces of what had been her mother’s letter as Draco Malfoy strode confidently away, satisfied that he’d managed to crush another student.
Her hands shaking with rage as she reached down, fingers brushing against the scraps of parchment. She knelt there, feeling all those eyes on her and hearing the laughter and catcalls from her fellow students, staring at the scattered words that her mother had written. Words were running through her head; words of warning she’d heard from McGonagall and words of smug superiority that Draco Malfoy had spoken. If you have any desire to help us in the future to change things for the better, McGonagall had said, her voice full of warning. I know this because I am one of your superiors, and as your better, I can assure you that it will never work, he’d said. His words were reverberating through her mind, repeating over and over again, competing with the jeers of the other students who were watching her trying to gather the remnants of her letter from home and the common sense warnings of the Head of Gryffindor House, growing louder until it reached a cacophonous level of noise.
Until suddenly a jolt ran down her spine, and she snapped her head up, realization hitting her like a Bludger, electrifying every nerve in her body. Watching his back as he walked away, arrogance apparent in his very movements, she was no longer afraid, and the very words he’d spoken were the reason she knew she no longer had any cause to fear him.
“Stop right there,” she commanded loudly, as a collective gasp of shock indicated that everyone had heard. A tense silence fell over the room, as Draco Malfoy turned slowly, his face registering surprise at her order. Ginny stood up, and walked towards him slowly, determination propelling her forward.
“Haven’t had enough, Weasley?” he asked crossly. She smiled, shaking her head.
“I’d like to know what it is that makes you feel you have any right to spout all that bollocks about being so superior to me. You, whose only power and influence comes from your parents and nothing that you’ve done on your own,” she said, striding forward. “What’s so great about being rich? You’ve never worked a day in your life, you’ve had everything handed to you and the only reason everyone acts like their scared of you is because they’re really just scared that if they upset you, you’ll run crying to your father!”
Draco Malfoy’s face was turning a deep shade of purple, and this normally would have been frightening to behold, but that was before Ginny’s realization. She could hear murmuring all around her, but her entire body was buzzing with energy and everything else had faded to the background, even the fact that his steely gray eyes were fixed on her, with an expression of complete rage.
“You don’t even do your dirty work yourself, you send your incompetent minions! You might think you’re so great, sending two guys twice my size to attack me, but to me, it just means that you’re a coward! So, guess what, Draco Malfoy? I’m not afraid of you, because I think you’re just a worthless spoiled brat with an inflated sense of self-importance,” she cried defiantly. Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, and he walked forward a few steps, stopping only when he was a few inches away from her, leaning over her, trying to intimidate her with his height. She stared up at him, all defiance and bravado.
“Brave words, Weasley. I can’t wait to see how long it will take before you’re back here, begging me to forgive you for ever saying them. Because I will make you regret it, I can promise you that,” he said, spitting his words out at her. Her right clenched into a fist, and she remembered not to tuck her thumb, just like her brothers had taught her.
“Oh, cut the crap!” she shouted, pushing all her weight into her right hook as she swung her fist at his face. She felt a bolt of pain flash down her arm and heard the satisfying thud as her fist connected to his face, and heard the echoes of students yelling as Malfoy stumbled backwards, falling to the ground.
After shaking her hand for a few seconds to relieve some of the throbbing pain, she stood straight, staring down triumphantly at Draco Malfoy, who was sprawled on the ground, looking dazed and shocked as a trickle of blood ran down his nose.
“Whatever you try to do to me, go ahead, because I’m not going to hide anymore, I’m not going to be afraid of someone as cowardly as you! Bring on whatever you’ve got, because I’m declaring WAR against you and all of your brainless followers! If you attack me, I’ll hit you right back. So, you’d better bring it on!” she shouted. She pulled out her wand, and with one last satisfying look at Draco Malfoy’s sprawled form, she cast a hex. Amid the shouting and hysterical cries of the Slytherin girls as they rushed to Malfoy’s side, Ginny walked away, feeling as though she was walking on air. She calmly picked up her books from the table where she’d been sitting at, and left the Great Hall and the sight of Draco Malfoy, the most feared and idolized student at Hogwarts, yelling and writhing on the floor as he suffered the effects of her particularly potent Bat Boogey Hex.
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A/N: I've been waiting to write this moment since I began the fic!
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to comment, and to everyone who as been reading. I never thought anyone would read my crazy CRACK AU Fic of Doom, so I'm just thrilled with some of the kind comments I've been getting! More to come very soon!
Drawn from HYD:
1) Draco's temper tantrum as to why they haven't succeeded in running Ginny out of school
2) the way his two thugs decide to "deal" with her*
3) Blaise's interference*
4) the conversation at the end, Ginny punching Malfoy in the face and declaring war on him
*the series deals with this scenario in a way that kinda made me really angry - there was almost no outrage, consequences or real condemnation of their actions. I wasn't comfortable with that, or with a 'romantic lead' who would have ordered him 'minions' to do that, therefore I changed it fairly significantly. Despite the changes, this event IS from HYD.
And even though I feel a little cheesy, this chapter is totally dedicated to birdofprey09 and mima_soo, for listening as I tried to work out some of things decisions I was agonizing over with this chapter. Thanks for all your help and comments!
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Chapter 4: Stepping Up the Game
“I don’t want to hear your excuses,” Draco Malfoy said, his voice calm yet cold, as he studied the chess board in front of him. Vincent Crabbe, his opponent, had just taken his castle.
“But we’ve tried everything we could think of, and everything Pansy Parkinson told us to do, and none of it has worked!” the terrified fifth year Slytherin, Simon Stanley, tried to explain.
“Everything we could think of! All of the usual things – we even got Snape to kick her out of class for cheating, and got the Gryffindor Quidditch team to toss her! She just won’t break!” Paul Green, a sixth year, agreed. The two boys stood in awkward silence as Draco continued to study the board, before ordering his knight to take Crabbe’s queen.
“What I would like for you to do,” he said as his knight began to demolish the black queen, to the jeering of his other pieces, “is to use your brain. Obviously, this girl is different. Therefore, you have to adjust your tactics to fit that difference.”
The two younger boys stared at each other in confusion, both not quite grasping what he was implying.
“What do you mean by that? What should we do?” Simon asked nervously. Draco fixed his steely gaze on him, ignoring Crabbe’s triumphant cry as he checked Draco’s king. He stood up, so that he was facing them, arms crossed and a dangerously irritated look on his face.
“If you expect to take over the school once we’ve graduated, I would hope that you start grasping the basics. Know your enemy, boys. This girl is textbook Gryffindor. What is important to Gryffindors, what do they value the most? Tell me,” he snapped.
“Courage, doing the right thing, looking out for others, that whole moral superiority thing they have going on,” Simon parroted.
“They’re not getting it, Draco, you should just consider them a lost cause,” Goyle called from the corner of the room, where he had been chatting up two women, causing the occasional burst of giggles to disrupt the otherwise quiet of the empty bar.
“Honestly, I don’t know what they’re teaching these young kids these days,” Crabbe said sadly, shaking his head.
“Well, I hope, for your own sake, that you figure out the answer fairly soon. I won’t tolerate failure twice,” Draco said ruthlessly. “Do whatever it is you have to do, but I want her gone by tomorrow.”
The two boys scurried out of the room, eager to be away from the danger of simply being around the tempestuous nature of Draco Malfoy. After they’d left, Draco turned back to the chessboard, ready to continue his game.
“Is it my move?” he asked Crabbe. Crabbe shook his head with a laugh.
“I’ve already checked your king, mate. Game’s over,” he said. Draco stared down at the board for a minute, assessing the position of his king and Crabbe’s pieces. Upon realizing that Crabbe had indeed lost, he picked up the board and flipped it off the table, scattering squealing chess pieces across the floor.
“Let’s play something else, chess is a ridiculously pointless game,” he said, a scowl on his face.
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“What do you mean, he let you stay at the Quidditch pitch?” Hermione demanded, her brow wrinkled, as she scrubbed the countertop furiously.
“Well, you see, it’s his special spot, and I was there, disturbing the quiet and he had told me to leave. But I guess he thought I could use it more than he, so he left, letting me hide out there until class was over. I told you he was different from the rest of those Slytherin bastards,” Ginny exclaimed, her eyes bright as she recounted the only high point of her day.
“Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t the pitch accessible to all students? It’s not his place, exactly, and so, doesn’t everyone has the equal right to be there when there’s not a practice or a game taking place?” Hermione asked, a trace of humor in her voice. Ginny scowled.
“Of course we all have rights to it – in theory. But if a seventh year Slytherin feels that it’s his place and doesn’t want to be bothered by a lowly sixth year Gryffindor, then by all means, it’s his place and his right to ask me to leave. It’s just the way that the social hierarchy works at Hogwarts, Hermione,” she explained, storing the empty Butterbeer bottles in their case as she continued to clean the bar area.
“So, you’re saying that this Blaise Zabini, who you think is so different from the rest of them, follows this social hierarchy and asked you to leave a public area where all students have the right to be because he thinks of the place as ‘his’?” Hermione asked, one hand on her hip and a skeptical look on her face. Ginny paused, considering her words, searching wildly for a way to defend the handsome boy and her own belief that he was different from the rest of them. Her temper sparked when she came up empty, and she stomped into the backroom, searching for another empty box for the rest of the bottles littering the tables. She came back a minute later with a triumphant smile.
“If he really believed in what his friends were doing, he wouldn’t have just left me alone! He would have found some way to torture me! And that proves he’s different!” she cried, with a pointed look at her intelligent friend. Hermione was a very difficult person to prove wrong, and whenever Ginny managed to do it, she considered it a great victory.
“But he didn’t necessarily protest their actions or try to stop them, either,” Hermione said softly. With that, Ginny dropped her box of empty bottles, and stared at her friend with a look of utter exasperation.
“You, Hermione Granger, are far too practical to be of any help when it comes to matters of romance. You don’t have a hopelessly romantic bone in that sensible body of yours! You need to start looking at the world with something other than your brain every one in awhile,” Ginny cried.
“You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t think a popular boy deciding not to bully you is the epitome of romance,” Hermione scoffed, picking up the broom and beginning to sweep. Ginny frowned, and felt slightly deflated. Now that Hermione had effectively burst her little bubble, the full effects of her day seemed to hit her all at once. She was exhausted, aching in the many places where she’d be bumped or pushed, and the ball of dread that had formed in her stomach that morning when she’d ripped open the Howler hardened even more, reminding her of her predicament.
“Maybe you’re right,” Ginny said softly. “But it’s nice to think that there is someone who, while he may not be on my side, he’s at least not against me, like everyone else in that bloody school is. I had no idea how much people hated me until today, since they’ve always just left me alone.”
“You’re talking about that Pansy girl? Her and her mindless twittering followers were in here a few days ago. Made a bloody mess and didn’t leave enough Galleons to cover their bill, and when I confronted them about it as they were leaving, she tore into Madame Rosmerta like I’ve never heard, saying that the whole thing was my fault,” Hermione grumbled. “You should be careful of her, Ginny. I’d be more worried about her than I would of that Malfoy guy.”
“Pansy I can handle. She’s just mad because I’ve become the center of attention, even under these circumstances. Once everyone forgets about me, she’ll go back to ignoring me,” Ginny said grimly. She looked around the restaurant, sighing at the sight of all the work the two girls had left to finish off before they could leave that night. It had been very busy, and the rest of the staff had left them to close. Hermione stared at her friend, who seemed to have lost the energy she’d had while detailing her interaction with Blaise Zabini, and sighed herself.
“Ginny, why don’t you go? I can finish off here, and you’re going to have quite the day tomorrow,” Hermione offered. Ginny smiled but shook her head.
“Thanks, but it won’t take too long with the two of us. And tomorrow… well, tomorrow will be tomorrow, no matter what I do today, so there’s no use in hiding from it,” she said grimly, picking up her bar towel and setting back to work.
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The second day was about the same as the first. By the end of it, Ginny was disheveled, tired, slightly bruised and in a foul temper. Through the conspiring of her classmates, she’d been tossed out of three classes, given four detentions, and everyone in the school seemed to have heard about the Stinksap incident from yesterday, and tried to bodycheck her into that small alcove where the towering plant stood every time she had to pass by it – which was no less than five times a day. But, as Hermione had predicted, she’d been able to start anticipating their tactics, and was able to dodge some of the more despicable attempts to torture her. By the end of the day, despite enduring a full day of bullying, Ginny was feeling rather good. It hadn’t been easy, but it hadn’t gotten any worse than yesterday, and she beginning to think that maybe she’d already survived the worst of it.
After serving Snape’s detention, where he’d made her extract and preserve seventeen jars of Stinksap while watching with a cruel smile on his face (he’d obviously heard about yesterday’s incident), she was feeling fairly elated. She was free of this hell until the next morning, and the hallways were empty and quiet, so she could let her guard down, as she walked down the staircase, her head occupied with thoughts of flying. She had a new maneuver she wanted to try out on her broomstick on the way back to Hogsmeade. She knew for a fact that as soon as this whole ordeal was over, the team would ask her back – she was one of the better flyers on the team, and they needed her if they expected to have any chance at the Cup. Gryffindors were outnumbered at the school, so the pool of talent they had to draw from was very small, especially when compared to the other Houses, like Ravenclaw and Slytherin.
She was so wrapped up in the thoughts of her broomstick that she was caught completely by surprise when someone grabbed her from behind. Strong arms locked around her body, rendering her own hands immobile as she wrestled for her wand, flattening them against her body. Another hand clamped over her mouth before she could scream. She started to kick her feet and tried to twist her body free, but her attacker was just too strong for her.
“Quick, grab her legs!” the guy who had ordered, and another figure emerged from the shadows, tentatively trying to grab her flailing legs and she kicked out at him. She recognized him – Paul Green, a fifth year Slytherin. He managed to lock his arms around her legs, even as she struggled, trying to scream against the hand pressed against her mouth, and then she felt them lifting her up, and carrying her down the hall, jostling.
She struggled against the grip around her arms, the knowledge that her wand was in the pocket of her robes, and her hand was only a few inches from reaching it. She could see the one who held her legs kicking open and door, and they dragged her into a dark and empty classroom, dropping her to the ground once they were inside and the door was shut. She fell hard, banging her head, causing her vision to swim as her eyes watered from the pain.
“Do you think anyone saw us?” the other one asked. In the dim light, Ginny could barely make out his face, but while she couldn’t put a name to him, she recognized him as a sixth year Slytherin as he peered out in the hall, checking to see if anyone was out there. Paul Green shrugged his shoulders, and glanced back at Ginny. Even in the poor lighting, she could see a look in his eyes that caused her heartbeat to start racing with panic.
She struggled to stand, whipping her wand out of her pocket, but before she was able to do anything with it, they were on her again. The large sixth year grabbed her wrist, squeezing painfully until she cried out in pain and had to drop her wand, for fear that he’d snap the bone. His other arm grabbed her shoulder and he used his weight to force her to the ground. She tried to wrench herself free, but before her small effort could yield any success, he had her arms pinned to the ground above her head with one hand, and his knees pinning her into place. Feeling sick with fear, Ginny’s panic had her legs kicking wildly, trying to jerk herself from his captivity.
“Paul, grab her legs!” the one holding her down ordered. The other boy ran over, and tried to restrain her legs. She got one good kick in to his face before he succeeded.
“Just get this over with, Simon,” he said. The one restraining her looked down at her with a smile, his free hand grabbing her face and holding it in place, so that Ginny had no choice but to look at him.
“You should have just left yesterday, you stupid bitch! You’ve brought this on yourself!” he grunted. Without even thinking, without even considering the consequences, Ginny retaliated the only way she could in her restrained state – she spat in his face.
“You bitch!” he exclaimed, striking her across the face, his face purple with rage. Pain exploded across her cheekbone, and she cried out. A faint metallic taste filled her mouth, and she figured his blow had probably split her lip, even as a dizzying buzzing noise filled her ears. His hand was grabbing at her blouse, and she heard the sickening sound of material ripping when a voice from somewhere in the room halted his actions.
“What’s going on here?” a voice asked, filled with a quiet authority. Her attackers froze, turning their heads to a corner of the classroom. Ginny strained her neck to see who it was and felt a wave of relief wash over her as she saw that it was Blaise Zabini, seated casually with his legs propped up on a desk, a book in hand. His eyes flicked from her face to the two boys holding her down, and he sighed heavily, standing up.
“Let her go,” he ordered.
“But Malfoy told us to!” Paul Green protested. Blaise, who was now towering over them with his arms crossed menacingly, glared at him, his dark eyes practically glowing with anger.
“I said let her go!” he exclaimed. Jumping with fear, Ginny’s attackers released her and bolted for the door.
Finally free, the adrenaline pumping through her veins caused her limbs to shake as she scrambled to sit up. She glanced down at her blouse, noting that three buttons had been ripped off and that the sleeve was slightly torn. Turning away from Blaise, who had crouched down across from her, staring at her with dark eyes, she pulled her robe tighter, trying to cover the damage and scrape together some shred of dignity. Only then, when she realized how ridiculous that thought was in the light of what could have happened to her if he hadn’t been there, did the weight of her fear and panic finally catch up with her as the adrenaline wore off. Her eyes were burning with unshed tears, and her hands were badly shaking.
Even as she was crying softly, wishing that he would leave so she could sob unrestrainedly without him having to see it, she could feel his eyes on her. Taking a deep breath, she tried to collect herself before she turned around, wanting to thank him for stopping them for being there, for saving her. But, as her eyes met his serious gaze, the words choked on her tears, and only a sob escaped, even as she tried quell it by covering her mouth. He looked away, down the book in his hand.
“There was a team practice down at the pitch today,” he said with a shrug, his eyes meeting hers. With that he stood up, and started to leave.
“Thank you,” she stammered, her face burning, embarrassed without really knowing why. He paused, and sighed.
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” he said quietly, before he left the empty classroom, the door closing behind him with a thud.
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Hermione Granger was just putting the finishing touches on her essay detailing the proper procedure for transfiguring mice to earmuffs, glancing at the clock and wondering if she had enough time to add another few inches to it before she had to make for the post office so she could send it off to her professor and turn up for her shift at the Three Broomsticks, when there was a knock on her door. Curious as to whom it could be, she laid her quill down and walked the few feet across her flat to the door. Opening it, she cried out in alarm.
“Ginny! What’s happened to you?” she asked, taking the younger girl by the arm and leading her inside. One side of her face was slightly bruised and swollen, there was a bit of blood smeared around her mouth where her lower lip had split, her eyes were red from crying, and even though she had her robe wrapped around her, Hermione could see that her blouse was torn.
Later, Hermione handed her friend a cup of tea, her essay and her shift completely forgotten. Freshly showered and wrapped tightly in Hermione’s fluffy bathrobe, Ginny took the cup gratefully. Hermione sat down across from her, her eyes dark with worry.
“Ginny, you need to tell someone what’s happened! It shouldn’t matter what kind of social hierarchy you have at that school, this is completely inexcusable, and no Headmaster worth his salt would allow this to continue!” she suddenly exclaimed, as if it had been on the tip of her tongue for awhile and had finally burst free of its own accord. Ginny smiled, and looked down at her mug.
“I know. But if I tell, my parents will find out. And if they find out, they’d make me leave the school,” she said quietly.
“That might be for the best. I don’t know why you’d want to go back there ever again, after this,” Hermione sniffed. Ginny shook her head.
“Don’t you see, Hermione? If I leave – if I retreat with my bloody tail between my legs, then they win. If I quit, then that bastard Malfoy wins, and it just means that he can keep doing this to other people. I have to go back, or else he wins,” she repeated, mostly to herself, as she stared off into space. Hermione sighed and shook her head.
“But Ginny! It’s not safe for you there!” she protested.
“I’ll just have to be more careful. I let my guard down because no one was around, I thought I’d be alright because it was after school hours. I’ll just have to be more careful, try to attract less attention. Sit in the back of my classes, make sure I’m not in any deserted hallways,” Ginny said, with determination.
“But you shouldn’t have to! Not at school, for god’s sake! This isn’t fair!” Hermione cried.
“Hermione, there are a lot of things about this world that aren’t right,” she said, her voice quiet and soft. “You grew up in the Muggle world, so you know just how different things are for wizards. But while Voldemort is in power, we have to live this way. The powerful, the loyal, the purebloods, the rich – they make the rules, and anyone who doesn’t follow them gets crushed beneath them. It’s not fair – it’s not fair that I’m the only one of all my siblings that are allowed to attend Hogwarts, it’s not fair that I have to live so far away from my family, it’s not fair that my parents work day and night for some pathetic Ministry wage that could barely cover my tuition, it’s not fair that a girl as bright as you can only take correspondence magic courses when there are idiots like Pansy Parkinson attending the finest wizarding school in Europe. None of this is fair, but it’s the way this world works, and I have no choice but to try to survive in it.”
“Ginny…” Hermione said, her eyes shining. Ginny smiled weakly at her.
“If you let them crush you underneath all that unfairness, then they win. And poor as we are, Weasleys are not losers,” Ginny said. Hermione lunged forward, hugging her and spilling hot tea into her lap in the process, and Ginny felt some degree of satisfaction that Hermione, at least, had bought her brave act, even despite the fact thather swollen lower lip had trembled through the entire speech.
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“Blaise! You actually came!” Crabbe cried in surprise, as Blaise Zabini ambled into the private room of the Hog’s Head, where many Slytherins had gathered. Draco Malfoy looked up, and waved his friend over to the table where he, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode were seated. Blaise nodded, and after exchanging a few pleasantries with the girls who stopped him to chat, he made his way through the room and sat down across from Draco.
“Thought that this wasn’t your scene,” Goyle commented as he eyed a pretty blonde across the room.
“I felt like hanging out tonight, and you’re all here,” Blaise said, shrugging casually. Draco smiled, and after titling his glass back, emptying its contents and slamming it down on the table – which was greeted by a chorus of oohs from Pansy and Millicent – he looked at his best friend.
“It’s good that you’re here, Blaise. We’ve just been discussing what to do about that bloody Weasley girl. I can’t leave this to our incompetent followers anymore, they keep messing it up. It’s time I took a personal role in this one,” Draco said, casting an angry glance at two boys cowering in the corner.
“How long are you planning on continuing this?” Blaise asked, his voice neutral, but Draco noted a seriousness in his eyes that caught his attention. He frowned, and he paused, obviously thinking it over.
“I don’t think she’s going to quit. She’s obviously very stubborn, or she wouldn’t have lasted two full days already. If she’s not going to quit, then I want to see her break, I want that pride of hers to be wiped away somehow,” he said, a smirk on his face. “I’ll call if off when we’ve made her… when we’ve made her cry.”
“Then you’ve already accomplished your goal,” Blaise said, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Draco stared at him, perplexed.
“When did that happen?” he demanded, suddenly angry.
“Just after your two thugs dragged her into an empty classroom, pinned her down and tried to tear off her clothes,” Blaise said, his voice still calm and even. Draco’s face froze, obviously taken aback by this information.
“They did what?” Draco asked after a long pause, his voice low and dangerous.
“They pulled her into a classroom and tried to rip off her blouse. And they hit her pretty hard, too, before I stopped them. Made her lip bleed,” Blaise said, leaning forward. Draco’s eyes had grown darker, and his jaw was clenched.
“But she’s a girl. They hit a girl…” he muttered, casting a dangerous glance over at Paul Green and Simon Stanley.
“Look, Draco, I can go along with your plans as long as they’re pretty harmless. Stupid pranks and jokes aren’t a big deal, because I know how she insulted you and everything. But you and I,” Blaise said, leaning closer, trying to edge out Pansy Parkinson, whose ears were straining to hear every word, and lowering his voice. “You and I always said that our generation would do things differently.”
A dead silence fell over the table, as their friends looked nervously between the two of them, the atmosphere growing very tense. Someone had just made the merest suggestion that something that Draco had done was wrong, an occurrence that was completely unheard, even from one of his best friends. They were all anxious as to how Draco would react to this.
His face was impassive as he nodded slowly at Blaise’s words, but there was a hard glint in his eyes. He sat back, picking up another glass and knocking back its contents, as his friends watched his reaction, tense with silence. He set the glass down, staring at it for a few moments. Finally, he looked up and noticed their eyes that were on him, and with a smile, he shrugged.
“I just give the orders. It’s not any of my concern how they’re carried out,” he said lightly, and his friends sighed, and returned to their conversations, a potential crisis averted. Only Blaise Zabini, from where he was seated directed across from him, noted the barely concealed rage in his eyes and knew that his words were said only for the benefit of those who were listening, and that he had entirely different designs for the two Slytherins who’d misconstrued his instructions so grievously.
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Ginny crept into the Great Hall, thankful that it was almost halfway through the lunch hour, and most of the students were busy eating or gossiping to notice her as she entered. She scanned the faces of the crowd quickly, and smiled to herself as she realized that the room was mostly empty of Slytherins. With that knowledge, she found a nearly empty table near the back of the hall, and sat herself down, letting the tension ease from the body. She threw down the heavy textbook she was carrying, the roll of parchment listing the questions she'd been given by Snape as a 'make up' assignment for the test she'd failed, and a thick envelope containing a letter from home that she'd found on her door that morning.
She stared at the envelope, debating with herself whether or not to open it. It was rare for her to receive two letters in one week, so it could be important news she had to read right away. But, she'd already received a letter, only a few days ago, and her mother was aware of her tendency to savour her letters, reading them slowly so that the slight connection they gave her to her family would last longer, and would have indicated that it was important she open it right away. She should save it, considering how things were going, for when she might really need the familiar comfort of her mother's handwriting and the no-nonsense instructions that always littered her mother's letters. But, her parents were due to visit shortly, as her mother had mentioned in her last letter. At the end of next week, she’d have a few precious hours with them, so surely opening the letter and reading it all wouldn’t be a complete waste.
And after the week she'd been having, she deserved it. Shortly after she arrived at school, a little bit late for Snape's class (this was, she grumbled to herself, the reason he'd assigned her to write out the ingredients and procedures for brewing 134 potions as a make-up assignment), she'd caught a group of fifth year Slytherins huddled in the hall. Ginny had frozen to the spot when she recognized Simon Stanley; one of the boys who'd attacked her the day before. Startled, she quickly grabbed her wand, and held it tightly in her hand as she passed by, barely daring to look in his direction.
But the strangest thing had happened. As she walked by Stanley and the group of four Slytherin hanging around him, a silence fell over them, and they all froze as she passed. Feeling vulnerable, she turned her head to look at them, and Stanley made a sound that was very similar to a yelp, and dashed off down the hallway. But before he could disappear around a corner, she was shocked to see that the big and physically intimidating boy appeared to have a black eye, had his left arm bandaged and hung in a sling, and appeared to be walking with a slight limp. She stopped in her tracks to wonder what could have happened to him, but remembering the fear that had been gnawing at her ever since yesterday's encounter, she decided that whatever it was, he'd gotten what he deserved and that was all she needed to know.
When she'd reached Snape's class, he'd greeted her with his usual scowl and informed her that Professor McGonagall needed to see her at the beginning of lunch. McGonagall, despite being despised by pretty much all the Slytherins and anyone associated with the current Voldemort regime, was widely acknowledged as one of the best Transfigurationists in the world. She was tolerated as a teacher, so long as her students continued to learn, and she remained neutral on all questions of politics, for, while there was no proof, it was no secret that she had been a top-level member of Dumbledore's faction before he disappeared. Now, she was the Head of Gryffindor, the dwindling House that no other professor wanted, but Ginny had a great deal of respect for the aging professor. She was definitely the epitome of all things Gryffindor - a very courageous lady. However, she was also as strict as could be, and an extremely demanding professor who knew Ginny's parents very well and often sent them personalized reports detailing how Ginny's performance at Hogwarts might improve greatly if she would just stop provoking Professor Snape. Figuring that McGonagall would want to discuss her recent failing marks, Ginny had sighed with resignation. She was already feeling fairly numb from everything that had happened, whatever it was McGonagall had to say couldn't hurt her much more than she was already hurting.
But it had been much worse than she'd anticipated. As she timidly entered her office, the stern-faced teacher had simply motioned to her to sit down, and she made her sit in silence for almost ten minutes as she read over a very long piece of parchment.
"Well, Miss Weasley, I've just been going over a number of comments from your teachers from the past two days. It seems you've been causing quite a ruckus in your classes. Care to explain?" she asked, her tone frosty. Ginny froze, unsure of how to respond. If she revealed the truth of it all, that she was being victimized and attacked by her fellow students for committing the grievous crime of defending a friend, there was no doubt in her mind that McGonagall would turn around the instant she left the classroom and send a lengthy owl off to her parents, to warn them of what was happening to their only daughter. But at the same time, McGonagall was one of the faculty sponsors of her scholarship - if she thought for an instant that Ginny wasn't taking her classes completely seriously, she wouldn’t hesitate to withdraw that support. Ginny stared back at the unyielding face, struggling to find a solution.
"And I've also heard that you've been charged with a very disturbing accusation of cheating in Professor Snape's class, that you've failed a test in Charms, you've been given four detentions in the past two days and been told to leave three of your classes," she continued, her voice stern and sharp. Ginny grimaced, biting her lip as she waited for the lecture to come, but decided to try to come up with some excuse.
"Professor, I know this all looks bad, but I assure you there is an explanation for it," she said, hoping to sound as sincere and apologetic as possible. McGonagall lifted an eyebrow, as if waiting for that explanation, and shook her head when Ginny found herself lacking one.
"Well, Miss Weasley, I would certainly love to hear your explanation as to how, after the repeated warnings that you've had both from me and your parents, you've managed to offend Draco Malfoy and his group of miscreants." Ginny stared at her in shock.
“How could you tell?” she asked, her voice quiet with awe. McGonagall, despite herself, smiled at her young student.
“Because I’ve been teaching at this school for years, and I know that a good student who is usually able to stay out of trouble – except in a certain professor’s class, and I do wish you’d stop antagonizing Snape – does not suddenly decide one day to be unruly and to fail or cheat on tests. This is the work of the Slytherins; of that, I have no doubt. However, this does put you into a very difficult position, in a number of ways, I’m afraid,” McGonagall said, her face transitioning from a knowing smile to a very grave expression.
“This will put my scholarship at risk,” Ginny said, bleakly.
“But there is more to it,” McGonagall said, her voice growing serious as she leaned forward conspiratorially. “You are the daughter of Arthur Weasley, a man with a number of enemies and too few friends at the Ministry. It’s going to be hard enough for you once you graduate, but if you have any desire to help us in the future to change things for the better, it’s imperative that you remain unnoticed by any of them, and you especially cannot be seen as an enemy.”
“I’m not; I’m just a target,” Ginny said, slightly bitter. She sighed heavily, and looked away from McGonagall’s stern face. “I’ve been told to stay quiet, to avoid notice, to focus on school, and how important all this is. The past five years haven’t been particularly easy, having to stand by and just watch some of the complete nonsense that goes on around here. No one stands up to them! Nobody has the courage to do it, or they just don’t seem to get angry enough to just come out and say that it’s not right. Well, they were picking on my friend, and I got angry, so I told them to stop. I won’t apologize for doing the right thing, even if it jeopardizes my future. Not that there’s much of a future for anyone who isn’t one of Voldemort’s loyalists.”
“That’s very disappointing to hear, Miss Weasley. I suggest you consider the sacrifices your parents have made to send you here, if you need to be reminded of how important this is to them,” she said briskly, standing, signaling that their meeting had ended.
And now she was sitting in the Great Hall, almost completely ignored and feeling rather low, and staring at the tempting envelope laying on the table in front of her. After a cursory glance around to make sure that no one had taken any notice of her, she snatched it up and tore it open, unfolding the parchment.
Dear Ginny,
Just a quick note today, dear, as I’m practically dashing around the house, trying to get all the boys off to work before I have to leave myself. I’ve been putting off writing this for over a day, because I hate to disappoint you, but our schedules for next week have changed, and your father and I won’t be stopping over in Hogsmeade after all. Dad is being sent to Berlin to investigate some new Muggle device, and I’m going to be needed at the Ministry. They’re holding some big event for all the Ministers, and needed some catering done, and I couldn’t very well turn them down.
But don’t worry, we’ll get together before the year is out, I promise. Your brothers send their love, and Fred and George wanted me to tell you they finally worked out a charm to block that Bat Boogey hex of yours and they’d like a new challenge the next time we’re all together. I do wish those two would spend half as much effort on more productive things than they do on their practical jokes and curses.
Take care, dear, and keep working hard!
Love Mum
Ginny set the letter down, and had to blink furiously in order to keep the tears from overflowing. She was lost in a fog of disappointment, and just sat, staring at the black ink on the parchment, feeling completely defeated.
She was so consumed with her own misery that she failed to realize that someone was standing over her, staring down at her, and that all the students in the Great Hall were watching her. It was only after a few minutes of utter silence had passed, causing Ginny to look up, wondering if she’d been staring for so long that she’d missed the start of the next class, that she realized that Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her, with his arms crossed and his steely gray eyes fixed on her.
She jumped slightly, and looked up at him warily. He seemed to be staring at the side of her face that was still slightly swollen and sore from the blow she’d taken yesterday at the hands of his minions, causing her to shift uncomfortably in her seat. Not now, she thought, just please…not now. I don’t have the energy to deal with this. She stared back at him, trying to muster a defiant expression, when his eyes fell on the letter in front of her. He leaned forward, putting his hands flat on the surface of the table, so that his eyes were level with hers and his face was a mere breadth away.
“What have we here, little weasel?” he asked, his voice slick with mocking. Those in earshot heard him, and started to laugh, and Ginny knew that by the end of the day, she’d no longer be known as Ginny Weasley, she’d be the Weasel. She bristled, reaching to snatch the parchment out of his line of sight, but his hand was on one corner, trapping in place. He smiled – a satisfied, smug kind of smile.
“It is somewhat reassuring to know that even the common trash of the wizarding world, such as your mother, at least know how to read and write,” he said, his voice loud and echoing throughout the silent hall. “If we have to endure your presence, contaminating our society, it’s a small comfort to see that there is some form of education among the lower classes.”
Ginny heard a smattering of laughter dispersed around the room, and felt her face burn as he insulted her mother. Her hands clenched into a fist as she glared at him, pure hatred coursing through her veins.
“And one has to commend the efforts you make to try to better yourself. You try to educate yourself, to improve your status, you try to fit in with the superior class, but it’s a wasted effort. I know this,” he said, casually picking up her mother’s letter, “I know this because I am one of your superiors, and as your better, I can assure you that it will never work. You can never become one of us.”
A few students cheered and she could see Pansy Parkinson laughing with her gaggle of followers out of the corner of her eye. The condescending tone in his voice made her so angry, but as she bit her lip to keep from screaming the retorts she so longed to scream, a sharp hiss of pain reminded her of the dangers of confronting Draco Malfoy, as she aggravated the wound she’d received yesterday. The ball of fear, forgotten as she lamented her recent misfortune, returned and hardened in her stomach as she realized that he was still only a few inches away from her, that he was twice her size and surrounded by people who’d do anything he’d tell them to do.
“Who says I even want to become one of you?” she muttered under her breath, looking away. The few people around her, who heard what she’d said, gasped in shock. Malfoy, who’d been prepared to turn away, paused. Ginny cursed her tongue when she saw a flash of anger in his eyes, and a tinge of red staining his pale cheeks.
“You can’t help it. Someone with your pathetic existence? It’s only natural that you aspire to greatness,” he said, his clipped words dripping with arrogance. He held up her letter, turning slowly so that everyone in the Great Hall could see it. When he was facing Ginny again, he slowly ripped the parchment down the center, drawing an anguished cry of protest from Ginny. His eyes met hers, and he smiled at her – a twisted smile that was part triumph and part smugness – as he continued to shred the letter to pieces, which scattered to the floor. “But your reality means that you can never attain it.”
“Aww, the Weasel looks like she’s about to cry!” Pansy’s shrill voice called out, mocking her as Ginny rushed to the floor, trying to gather up the pieces of what had been her mother’s letter as Draco Malfoy strode confidently away, satisfied that he’d managed to crush another student.
Her hands shaking with rage as she reached down, fingers brushing against the scraps of parchment. She knelt there, feeling all those eyes on her and hearing the laughter and catcalls from her fellow students, staring at the scattered words that her mother had written. Words were running through her head; words of warning she’d heard from McGonagall and words of smug superiority that Draco Malfoy had spoken. If you have any desire to help us in the future to change things for the better, McGonagall had said, her voice full of warning. I know this because I am one of your superiors, and as your better, I can assure you that it will never work, he’d said. His words were reverberating through her mind, repeating over and over again, competing with the jeers of the other students who were watching her trying to gather the remnants of her letter from home and the common sense warnings of the Head of Gryffindor House, growing louder until it reached a cacophonous level of noise.
Until suddenly a jolt ran down her spine, and she snapped her head up, realization hitting her like a Bludger, electrifying every nerve in her body. Watching his back as he walked away, arrogance apparent in his very movements, she was no longer afraid, and the very words he’d spoken were the reason she knew she no longer had any cause to fear him.
“Stop right there,” she commanded loudly, as a collective gasp of shock indicated that everyone had heard. A tense silence fell over the room, as Draco Malfoy turned slowly, his face registering surprise at her order. Ginny stood up, and walked towards him slowly, determination propelling her forward.
“Haven’t had enough, Weasley?” he asked crossly. She smiled, shaking her head.
“I’d like to know what it is that makes you feel you have any right to spout all that bollocks about being so superior to me. You, whose only power and influence comes from your parents and nothing that you’ve done on your own,” she said, striding forward. “What’s so great about being rich? You’ve never worked a day in your life, you’ve had everything handed to you and the only reason everyone acts like their scared of you is because they’re really just scared that if they upset you, you’ll run crying to your father!”
Draco Malfoy’s face was turning a deep shade of purple, and this normally would have been frightening to behold, but that was before Ginny’s realization. She could hear murmuring all around her, but her entire body was buzzing with energy and everything else had faded to the background, even the fact that his steely gray eyes were fixed on her, with an expression of complete rage.
“You don’t even do your dirty work yourself, you send your incompetent minions! You might think you’re so great, sending two guys twice my size to attack me, but to me, it just means that you’re a coward! So, guess what, Draco Malfoy? I’m not afraid of you, because I think you’re just a worthless spoiled brat with an inflated sense of self-importance,” she cried defiantly. Malfoy’s eyes narrowed, and he walked forward a few steps, stopping only when he was a few inches away from her, leaning over her, trying to intimidate her with his height. She stared up at him, all defiance and bravado.
“Brave words, Weasley. I can’t wait to see how long it will take before you’re back here, begging me to forgive you for ever saying them. Because I will make you regret it, I can promise you that,” he said, spitting his words out at her. Her right clenched into a fist, and she remembered not to tuck her thumb, just like her brothers had taught her.
“Oh, cut the crap!” she shouted, pushing all her weight into her right hook as she swung her fist at his face. She felt a bolt of pain flash down her arm and heard the satisfying thud as her fist connected to his face, and heard the echoes of students yelling as Malfoy stumbled backwards, falling to the ground.
After shaking her hand for a few seconds to relieve some of the throbbing pain, she stood straight, staring down triumphantly at Draco Malfoy, who was sprawled on the ground, looking dazed and shocked as a trickle of blood ran down his nose.
“Whatever you try to do to me, go ahead, because I’m not going to hide anymore, I’m not going to be afraid of someone as cowardly as you! Bring on whatever you’ve got, because I’m declaring WAR against you and all of your brainless followers! If you attack me, I’ll hit you right back. So, you’d better bring it on!” she shouted. She pulled out her wand, and with one last satisfying look at Draco Malfoy’s sprawled form, she cast a hex. Amid the shouting and hysterical cries of the Slytherin girls as they rushed to Malfoy’s side, Ginny walked away, feeling as though she was walking on air. She calmly picked up her books from the table where she’d been sitting at, and left the Great Hall and the sight of Draco Malfoy, the most feared and idolized student at Hogwarts, yelling and writhing on the floor as he suffered the effects of her particularly potent Bat Boogey Hex.
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A/N: I've been waiting to write this moment since I began the fic!
Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to comment, and to everyone who as been reading. I never thought anyone would read my crazy CRACK AU Fic of Doom, so I'm just thrilled with some of the kind comments I've been getting! More to come very soon!
Drawn from HYD:
1) Draco's temper tantrum as to why they haven't succeeded in running Ginny out of school
2) the way his two thugs decide to "deal" with her*
3) Blaise's interference*
4) the conversation at the end, Ginny punching Malfoy in the face and declaring war on him
*the series deals with this scenario in a way that kinda made me really angry - there was almost no outrage, consequences or real condemnation of their actions. I wasn't comfortable with that, or with a 'romantic lead' who would have ordered him 'minions' to do that, therefore I changed it fairly significantly. Despite the changes, this event IS from HYD.
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