Anthend :Chapter 2
"She's in the infirmary again?" Ron yelled.
Colin looked nervously at Ron, then his eyes darted to Harry and Hermione, obviously trying to gauge whether they were as volatile as Ron. "Well - yeah."
Ron stepped forward and held Colin by his robe collars. It was a highly effective move, especially since Colin was only about Ginny's height, which was a head shorter than the lanky Ron. Colin swatted ineffectually at Ron's hands. "Hey! Geroff me! I didn't put her in the infirmary, I'm just telling you about it!"
"He's got a point, Ron." Hermione said disapprovingly, trying to pull Ron off Colin. She glared at Harry. "You could help me, you know."
Ron's grasp on the smaller boy didn't slacken. "Harry, get Hermione off me."
Harry tugged on Hermione and disengaged her from Ron. "Hang on, Hermione, Ron's not going to hurt Colin." To Ron, he said sharply, "Come on, Ron, let go of him. He's not going to tell you anything this way. Besides, Dean is coming over."
Ron let go of Colin. Colin glared, but he was obviously very relieved. He straightened his collar and said, "I don't know why I should tell you anything! I was just trying to give you the news about Ginny and you bloody pounce on me! You can jolly well get the information from somebody else!" He turned and was about to walk off when Harry grabbed him by the seat of his robes.
"Spit it out, Colin." Harry said impatiently.
"She fell into that trick step next to the Potions classroom and sprained her ankle." Colin said promptly. He glanced nervously at Ron, and whispered to Hermione, "Can I go now?"
"As fast as you can."
Colin scooted. Harry held on to Ron. "Come on, Ron, you can't just go dashing down there bellowing like a mad cow. That's only going to upset Ginny."
"He's right, Ron. The girl just sprained her ankle. She's going to need quiet."
Ron glared, and his face was upset, but he calmed down. "All right. I'm quiet now. Quiet as a fricking mouse."
Harry and Hermione glanced at each other. "A mouse." Hermione repeated dubiously. She repeated more firmly, "As quiet as a mouse, all right Ron?"
Ron was already heading out the portrait. "Come on."
Harry and Hermione glanced at each other again. "A mouse, huh?" Harry snorted. "Maybe a mouse when Crookshanks has got it's paws on it."
"I'm perfectly all right." Ginny insisted. Harry thought that the Weasley family definitely needed some tips on effective lying. Ginny's face was pale and her fingers twisted nervously in her lap. Every few seconds she would glance around jumpily. Her ankle was fine, though, thanks to Madam Pomfrey.
Ron was clearly very upset. "What were you doing, going down to the Potions classroom in the evening anyway? The place is almost pitch-black at night. You could have broken your neck!" He was standing off to the side, Hermione standing with him. From his vantage point across from Ginny, Harry could see Hermione's hand holding Ron's tightly, restraining him. He felt a pang of envy for Ron, that he had someone to take care of him when he was upset. He looked at Ginny, sitting up in bed, her small face almost blending in with the white pillows propping her up, and had the sudden thought that Ginny needed someone to take care of her as well.
"I forgot my potions kit." Ginny explained tiredly. "I had to go get it so I could do my homework. On the way back up I forgot about the trick step and fell. End of story. It was no big deal, Ron."
But it wasn't the end of story. Harry could tell. Ginny looked tired, yes, but she also looked frightened. If that had been the end of story, then Ginny's hands wouldn't be twitching, and her face wouldn't be so wary. If that had been the end of story, then Ginny wouldn't be looking so unconsciously pleading, and her face would be red with embarrassment instead of white with fear. If that had been the end of story, then his heart wouldn't be slowly filling with dread and he wouldn't be wishing that he could wipe away the last two days so that Ginny was smiling and turning red when he called her funny-face -
But maybe that was a different story.
Hermione intervened then. Harry could see her hand squeezing Ron's tightly, and he could see how Ron edged closer to her unconsciously, as if asking for comfort and knowing it would be given. She didn't intervene out loud, but Harry could read in the touch she gave Ron her asking for him to let it go, Ginny was tired, he could find out about it another time. And he could see Ron's answer in the way he slowly, imperceptibly relaxed his body and allowed the tension to edge out of his face.
"All right." Ron said finally, resigned. "Be more careful next time, all right? And don't go down to the dungeons alone. "
"How did you get back to the infirmary, anyway?" Hermione asked curiously.
Harry saw Ginny twitch slightly, saw her regain her composure, and saw the nervousness underneath the light tone of voice that didn't go with the pale face and overbright eyes when she said, "Oh! That doesn't matter, does it? After all, the main thing is, I got here." She smiled, a forced smile that came off naturally, slightly skewed, a smile that satisfied her brother.
And Harry wondered what she was hiding.
He wondered what had happened to make him see everything about her, everything that nobody else saw, when he had never done it before.
He wondered many things, as Hermione led Ron out the door, after saying their goodbyes to Ginny.
He wondered even as he shook her ankle gently and said, in a voice he didn't recognize, "Get well soon, funnyface."
And he wondered, at the curious beating rhythm of his heart when she smiled at him, a real smile, right before he closed the door softly behind him, and followed Ron and Hermione down the hall alone.
______
Ginny wished she wasn't alone.
She had never minded being alone before.
Ginny forced herself not to glance around the room again. There was nothing in the room with her. It was a bright sunny day, cool breeze coming in the window. She lay back in bed and closed her eyes and tried to still the irrational beating of her heart, and the nervousness in her bones that made her want to jump out of bed and run to find the nearest person and cling to them. The nervousness that told her that she would never be comfortable being alone again because it could only get at her when she was alone -
She wondered why she hadn't told anybody about what had really happened when she went down to the dungeons. She should have, she knew, but she didn't want to. It would make it all seem so real, whereas if she didn't tell anyone she could pretend that she had just been stupid and foolish and scared of something that hadn't really been there.
But pretending could only take you so far.
And Ginny didn't believe herself anymore.
Ginny heard noises from the window and her heartbeat slowed. They would hear her if she screamed. She was safe as long as the window was open and she could hear the noises of wizards outside on the Quidditch pitch. Her breathing became slow and relaxed, and she let herself enjoy the blackness behind her eyelids.
Lulled to sleep, Ginny woke with a sudden jerk. Her gaze flew to the window, terrified that she would see black night. She released the bedsheets from her tight fists when she saw that it was still sunny outside, and there were still noises out on the Quidditch pitch. She got out of bed and peered out her door.
Draco Malfoy stood sullenly alone, left arm cradling right, right arm looking perfectly all right, except for the monstrous bruise forming right on the elbow bone. He was dressed in Quidditch robes, so he must have gotten hurt on the pitch.
He was so different from Harry, so perfectly different. They were like the colours of their hair, perfectly opposite, white and black. Harry was the perfect gentleman, a sort of model of boyishness, with his laughing green eyes and easy grin. He was always surrounded by friends, especially Ron and Hermione, and he liked people. It was as simple as that. He liked people.
Draco was so different, in every way. He was heads taller than Harry, with a lean build that was mostly long, strong muscle. His white hair, Harry's black hair. His pale, hooded gray eyes, Harry's open, vibrant green gaze. If Harry liked people, Draco had an undisguised contempt for most wizards and witches that Ginny could recognise, if not understand. If Harry was the perfect gentleman, Draco was most certainly not. He was as cruel to witches as he was to wizards and he cared nothing for manners. After all, you didn't need manners when you were so obviously superior to everyone else. Ginny thought that that was probably the Malfoy motto.
But he hadn't been cruel to her last night.
He hadn't exactly been kind, either. A kind person would have asked what she was doing down there, why she was doing that down there, did her ankle hurt, would have stayed with her while Madam Pomfrey was healing her ankle, or would have at least gone to Ron and told him she was in the infirmary.
He hadn't done any of that.
He had done something better.
He had been there.
Not on purpose, but he had been there.
And that was worth all the cooing in the world.
Well, maybe all the cooing in the world that wasn't from Harry.
Ginny took a deep breath and stepped out into the hallway.
At her slight movement, Draco's head went up.
It didn't snap up alertly, like Harry's head would have. Instead, it went up languidly, with no alarm or surprise, no curiosity even, simply a sort of acceptance that that was the conventional reaction.
He saw her and his lip curled in a sneer.
Somehow the sneer was more becoming on him than a smile would have been. A smile simply didn't fit with his arrogant boredom. The sneer was part of him, part of his face and the aristocratic airs he put on.
"Well well." He drawled insolently, taking her in, his hard pale eyes draping over her. All of her. "The sick Weasley."
Ginny ignored the insult meant by the tone of his voice and the movement of his eyeballs. Her head was spinning dizzyingly, sending thoughts through her head that she couldn't understand. White knights simply weren't made this way, rude and contemptuous, white knights were made like Harry, kind and gentle and sweet -
Ginny regained her balance. "Did you sprain your arm?"
Draco snorted. "What's it to you, Weasley?"
Ginny ignored that as well. "Aren't you going to tell Madam Pomfrey?"
Draco took her in again, as if he couldn't believe her ignorance. He didn't answer.
"Right." Ginny answered herself. "If you weren't going to tell her, why would you be here?"
He didn't say anything, just stared straight ahead at the wall opposite him.
Ginny took a few steps closer awkwardly, until she was about two feet away from him. "I just wanted to say thanks. You know, for helping me last night."
He didn't say anything to that either.
Uncomfortably warm embarrassment was starting to course through Ginny's limbs. Why wasn't he saying anything? "Well, thanks." She said. She winced. It sounded so flippant. She amended quickly, "I mean, thank you."
She stood there for awhile, feeling it would be kind of rude to just walk away from him without a goodbye. And a goodbye seemed so formal. She was beginning to feel kind of awkward.
Draco finally looked at her. His eyes were hooded, dark and they simply stared at each other for a while.
Then Madam Pomfrey popped her head out of her potions room. "All right, Mr Malfoy. You can come in now."
Draco hoisted himself off the wall and turned away from her. Ginny watched as he walked away.
_____
"That's your homework." Colin said cheerfully as he plopped himself into an armchair and a thick sheaf of parchments onto the table.
Ginny groaned at the look of it. On the top was a Potions sheet. "Write a three-foot essay on the differences between molewort and moleworth, paying special attention to it's medicinal properties." She read out. She looked pitifully at Colin. "What's moleworth?"
Colin chomped down on a chocolate frog. "Search me. No one seems to know. Hannah is holding a three to one wager that it doesn't exist and it's really a trick question."
Ginny set it aside and shifted through her other homework. "Look up the only breeding place for black unicorns in England. Write a two foot essay on the dangers of letting Mandrake acne pus come in contact with polyester-silk hybrids. Research the transfiguration specialties of reptilian mammals found in South Brazil and North Africa." She closed her eyes.
"I know." Colin said sympathetically. "You can have a look through some of my work, though. Hannah managed to get copies of old Hermione Granger essays."
"Thanks." Ginny muttered. She shoved aside all her work.
"Swamped with homework, huh?" a laughing voice asked from above her. Ginny looked up to see Harry Potter looking down at her pile of homework. His hair was ruffled, and he smelt of male sweat and almost-fading deodorant. His broomstick was tucked under his arm and he had on his Quidditch robes.
"Yeah." Ginny mumbled. She fervently wished that she could come up with something less mundane to say. Something to catch his attention. Something - well, something interesting! "Good practice?" she offered hopefully. That was a good thing to say, wasn't it? Harry was Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, had been since the year before, when he was still in sixth year.
Harry grinned. "Wicked. You should have seen Seamus dangling off his broom, yelling to the heavens."
"I was not." Seamus muttered as he slumped by, covered in mud. He stopped and looked at Ginny's homework. "I was distracted by the Slytherins." He explained to her. "They came by demanding to use the pitch. No note, no nothing. Harry here didn't want to let them, but Snape came by and did his Snape thing."
Harry scowled. "Greasy bugger demanded we get off. We got them back, though. Seamus managed to get a good hit at Malfoy with the Bludger. Malfoy dropped off his broom like a heavyweight." He slapped hands with Seamus, who was grinning proudly at the memory.
So that was why Draco had gotten his arm sprained. Ginny grinned vaguely, aware that it was her duty as a riproaring Gryffindor to cheer on any and all triumphs against the Slytherins.
Didn't Harry look great in his Quidditch robes? They stuck to his body because of his sweat, positive fodder for a young girl's lecherous fantasies. Ginny found it vaguely disturbing to think of Harry that way. She'd worshipped him for so long that there was a faint suggestion of sacrilege in thinking of him in such earthy terms.
Seamus moved on, slinging a heavy, sweaty arm around Hermione, eliciting a loud and violent protest from Ron. Seamus laughed out loud, Hermione moved gingerly out from under his arm and Ron reclaimed her possessively.
Harry made a sudden movement. He grinned at Ginny, who smiled uncertainly back at him. "I'd better go take a shower." He said, as if in explanation.
Ginny giggled - oh, how she hated herself for that schoolgirlish giggle - and smiled and nodded awkwardly. "Of course."
Harry lingered a moment longer, then he turned and moved away abruptly. Ginny watched as he moved swiftly up the stairs to his dorm. She turned back to Colin, who was looking at her knowingly. She suddenly regretted telling him about her crush on Harry. She hated it when he looked at her that way.
"What?" she asked peevishly.
Colin smirked. "Nothing. Nothing at all."
_____
Harry carefully poured some Dragonbreath into his cauldron and stirred it cautiously. It was always wise to be cautious in Potions. He glanced up warily at Snape. Although Snape had mellowed down some during his sixth year, he was still prone to Gryffindorphobia and flying into one of his cold rages for no reason at all. He could see Snape preparing to bear down on Neville, who was slowly and painstakingly pouring his own Dragonbreath into his mixture. So slowly and painstakingly, in fact, that only one drop at a time came out.
Snape bellowed, "Do you think we have all day, Longbottom?"
The Longbottom in question jumped, and Harry winced in sympathy as half his Dragonbreath slopped into the cauldron. He caught the triumphant gleam in Snape's eye as Neville's cauldron imploded and a piece of metal cracked sharply into the stone wall. Thick red liquid splattered around the room. Harry narrowly dodged a particularly vicious spurt and instinctively checked to see if Hermione and Ron were all right. He'd gotten more protective of his friends over the past year, especially after Cedric's death.
It was always wise to be protective if you didn't want to grieve.
As far as he could see, no one had been hurt by Neville's accident, which was quite a feat, considering Neville's remarkable attraction to trouble.
"Is everyone all right?" Snape asked coolly.
Harry was prepared for silence, but he wasn't surprised when an equally cool voice drawled out, "I think some of it spilt on my skin, Professor."
Harry was prepared for the satisfied look on Snape's face, and the disgusted, angry look on both Ron and Hermione's. The Gryffindor side of the class turned and glared at Malfoy, who lounged at his desk, so clearly unhurt that it was ludicrous when Snape rapped out smugly, "Fifty points from Gryffindor. Potter, take Malfoy to the Hospital Wing."
Harry stood stonily. He'd learnt that when dealing with Snape and Malfoy, together, there wasn't any use being angry. It mostly annoyed them when they couldn't get a rise out of the Gryffindor. Harry always liked annoying them.
Unfortunately, not as much as he liked screaming at them sometimes.
He walked with Malfoy down the hall in silence. He remarked snidely, "Doesn't look like anything's wrong with your arm now, Malfoul."
Malfoy smirked. "That's the problem with these potions." He replied smoothly, obviously happy that Harry had responded to his little foulness. "It's always so difficult to ascertain the amount of damage they can do."
"I see it didn't do any damage to your bloody lying tongue, Malfoy."
There was a marked pause.
Then Malfoy said something that Harry was definitely not prepared for.
"No - Ginny wouldn't have been very pleased if it had."
Harry stopped in his tracks and faced Malfoy, who didn't stop walking, just kept strolling on as if he hadn't -
"How dare you." Harry spat out, grabbing him by the back of his robes and flinging him against the stone wall. Malfoy simply looked at him, still smirking, not making any move to defend himself. Harry felt heated anger climbing up his body. "How dare you say something so foul about Ginny!"
About Ginny, of all people, about Ginny, who hadn't done a thing to harm anyone-
Malfoy kept on smirking his infuriating little smirk. "I'm not saying anything that isn't a fact."
Harry drew back his fist and smashed it into Malfoy's lying face. Blood trickled from his pretty little nose. Harry was breathing hard. "How dare you lie about Ginny that way." He panted furiously, drawing back his fist again.
Malfoy brought his face closer to Harry, and Harry drew slightly back in revulsion. In that moment, Malfoy twisted and slammed Harry into the wall so that they had reversed positions.
"Jealous, Potter?" Malfoy taunted, his face so close to Harry's that the heat of his breath fell on Harry's parted lips. Malfoy was taller than Harry, so he had to bend slightly, but bend he did. "Jealous?"
Harry wrested himself out of the taller boy's grip and they started to grapple furiously, breath heaving in and out, sweat starting to cling to their skin where they touched.
Snape came out just then and roared angrily. He dragged them apart and hissed, "Another fifty points from Gryffindor. Detention, Potter. Hospital Wing, Malfoy." He forcibly started to push Malfoy down the corridor.
"You lying piece of shit!" Harry screamed.
Malfoy tugged out of Snape's grip and sneered. "Ask her, Potter. Ask her who helped her that night. Ask her who's the lying piece of shit, me or her."
Snape shoved him forward. Malfoy calmed and tossed out over his shoulder with a semblance of his former insolence in his glittering eyes and unsteady smirk, "Ask her."
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Draco and Ginny belong to JK Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, Warner Bros and various other corporations. They are being used here without permission and/or affiliation with the above. None of the authors listed here make any profit from these stories.