Anthend : Chapter 6
"It was the Imperius curse." Harry said flatly, not looking at Dumbledore.
"And the Cruciatus curse." Draco said, also not looking at Dumbledore.
"Who performed these curses?"
"Dunno." Harry mumbled. "I didn't see anyone doing it - reckon it could have been almost anyone, they were all crowded around the hall - heard someone saying Imperio -"
Harry had to forcibly restrain himself from shuddering. He wasn't going to break down in front of Malfoy, who, to his disgust, looked as cool as ever. He was staring fixedly out the window, as if he was bored and wanted more than anything to get out of there. Harry remembered, with a start, what Malfoy had been saying before the incident -
It seemed so long ago -
"Harry!" Dumbledore said sharply. "Was it a female or a male voice?"
Harry struggled to remember. "It - didn't sound like either, really." He said slowly, recalling the voice. "It sounded like- it just sounded - amused, you know -"
Dumbledore got to his feet. Harry watched him and realized that Dumbledore was getting old -
The thought made him faintly uneasy.
"Well, I'll ask the teachers to see what they can find out." Dumbledore. He was staring hard at Harry, as if telling him something. Harry didn't understand, but before he could ask, Dumbledore had gone out of the room.
Leaving him alone with Malfoy.
Without a word, Harry got up as well. He was leaving the room when Malfoy drawled, "Going to visit her?"
There was no need to ask who the her was. They both knew.
"What's it to you, Malfoy?' Harry asked, hostile, not turning around to look at the bastard.
"You should know by now."
Harry nearly spat out his next words. "I know that you're a lying piece of shit."
Malfoy turned cool gray eyes on him when he turned around. Such cool eyes, not giving anything away. His words were faintly mocking, lacking the aggression that had accompanied them in his first few years at Hogwarts. Malfoy had learnt that frustration was worse than any other emotion in the world, even anger or heartbreak, and he practiced the art of frustrating people so well that Harry would have marveled at his talent.
If he hadn't hated the slimy bastard so much.
"You don't." Malfoy said coolly. "You want to believe that I'm a "lying piece of shit" - as you so eloquently put it, Potter - but you can't be sure. You want to believe that I was lying and Ginny never touched me - but you don't."
"Go to hell." Harry hissed, stomping out the door.
But not before he heard Malfoy laugh.
_____
"You are playing with them."
A rich laugh rang through the air, deep and knowing, the laugh of someone who is unafraid. "So I am." The person said, standing face to face with the wizard who even Harry Potter would have flinched to see.
Lord Voldemort.
"I do not like it."
The person's mouth curved into a smile, revealing white teeth, incongruous with the darkness around. "Don't worry. I will kill Harry in the end. I just want to have a little fun now - "
"With the Weasleys?"
The person smiled again. "You, of all people, my lord, should know that when the supporters fall, nothing is left."
Lord Voldemort's eyes flashed with brief anger at the insolence, the audacity of his servant in referring to his own once-fleeing supporters. It died away and he laughed. "Well said."
"I've put the house-elf under the Imperius curse."
Lord Voldemort eyed his newest Death Eater.
The Death Eater looked straight back at him, head thrown back in a superb show of defiance.
And Lord Voldemort laughed again.
_____
"What - is the infirmary like your second home now?" a laughing voice came in the door.
Ginny looked up from the WitchFashions magazine she was flipping through at the confident young woman in the doorway and the disheveled boy beside her. "Seems like it, doesn't it?' she remarked, holding out her arms to hug the worried Colin. "Don't you two have class?"
Hannah's eyes twinkled, but she didn't answer. Ginny forbore to ask.
With Hannah, that was always better.
"We were worried." Colin explained unnecessarily, hurriedly releasing her and staring fixedly at the wall above her head.
Hannah flung herself into the chair beside Ginny's bed, movements fluid and graceful, looking like a sexy witch with a voracious appetite.
Looking, in fact, like herself.
Ginny yawned and covered it up. "I'm fine. Madam Pomfrey fixed the whole head up. Look." She indicated the back of her head. "She even grew back the hair she had to cut off."
"What was it like?" Hannah asked, her eyes bright. "Being under the Imperius curse, I mean."
Ginny shivered involuntarily. She didn't answer for a while. "Awful." She said, finally, looking down. "I don't want to think about it."
Hannah took the hint. Colin shifted nervously on his feet. "I developed some of the pictures I took at the Feast first day back at school." He offered. "Want to see them?"
Ginny held out a hand. Colin plonked a sheaf of pictures down, and she smiled at the first one. It was the three of them, their mouths full of pumpkin pie. She wondered how Colin had taken the picture.
"A Timer charm." Colin explained, before she could ask. "I learnt it in a photography magazine."
"Aren't we diligent." Hannah drawled.
Ginny knew her well enough that she could hear the genuine admiration beneath the mocking words. Unfortunately, Colin was blinded by teenage lust and his face coloured deeply. "I was just flipping through it." He mumbled, not looking at Hannah.
"Suuure." Hannah said agreeably. Ginny shot her a warning look. Hannah would say something she would later regret, and Colin would brood over it for ages and it would be a while before they got back in sync. It was a cycle Ginny didn't want to see repeated. Hannah raised a black eyebrow but subsided.
"What's been happening in school?" Ginny asked.
"Loads of homework, of course." Colin groaned.
Ginny grinned. Homework. Colin and Hannah. A wave of fondness swept over her, a wave of familiarity. There was nothing strange or sinister about these two people standing in front of her, not like there was about the Imperius curse, or Draco, or even Harry.
Yes, even Harry. "How's Ron?" Ginny asked.
Hannah rolled her eyes. "Pretending to be weak so that he can enjoy Hermione cooing over him."
Colin nodded sagely. "Wise move."
_____
"I'm perfectly fine!" Ron insisted, as Hermione fluffed - or attempted to fluff up his pillows. He scowled ferociously. "The only thing wrong with me is that I don't know who put a curse on me!"
"Hush, Ron." Hermione scolded. "Madam Pomfrey said you weren't to get excited -"
"I'm not excited!" Ron bellowed, sheering a hand through his hair, already wildly disordered from sleep. The bright redness of it stood starkly out against the pristine white bedcovers. Hermione reached a hand out to smooth it down, but he waved her away impatiently. "Stop fussing over me, Hermione."
Hermione shook her head at him. "Now, Ron -"
"Don't now Ron me." Ron said darkly. "I bet you it was that stinky little ferret who put the curse on me." He nodded his head at Hermione knowingly. "His dad probably taught it to him - they needn't think I believe all that rot about them not being involved in the Dark Arts. He's probably You-Know-Who's own spawn -"
"I wish you'd say Voldemort, Ron." Hermione sighed. "Harry is right - not saying his name makes him all the more sinister -"
"The trouble with Harry, Hermione -" Ron said grimly, " - is that he doesn't know when to lay low. Didn't I warn him not to get involved in Ginny's affairs -"
"Did you now?' Hermione asked pointedly.
Ron ignored her. "It's all right for me - I'm her brother. But when you've been mooning over the same guy for six years - it's been six years now, Hermione - and he suddenly starts sticking his nose in, saying he's worried about Ginny, now that Ginny knows about him and Cho - well, tell me what you would think, if you were her, Hermione."
Hermione decided not to tell Ron about the rumours flying around regarding Ginny and Draco. "What would I think, Ron?" she asked mildly.
Ron banged his fist down on his bedcovers. He nodded his head triumphantly at her, the righteous redhead. "You'd think that he was interested in you, that's what you'd think!" he crowed, nodding his head accusingly. "And you'd go around mooning even more, that's what you'd do! And you'd go running to your brother! And who has to shoulder the burden of your heartbreak? Can you tell me who, Hermione?"
"My brother?" Hermione suggested.
Ron pumped his head up and down. "Yes!" he crowed. "Yes! And who gets off scot-free with a luscious black-haired beauty? Can you tell me who, Hermione?" he peered interrogatively at her.
"Harry?" Hermione asked blandly.
"Ha!" Ron leaned back in bed and crossed his arms over his chest. "Nobody," he pronounced solemnly, "Nobody, absolutely Nobody, Hermione, knows the problems I have."
"Of course, Ron." Hermione soothed.
Ron slid mournfully down in bed. "Absolutely Nobody." He yawned. "Say, Hermione, could you sing that Muggle thing again - it's kinder soothing -"
"Of course, Ron." Hermione repeated, smoothing down his bedcovers and the tempestuous red hair. It was a good thing she loved him, she reflected ruefully.
_____
"Hey, funny-face." Harry said, poking his head in the door.
Ginny woke with a start out of the light doze she'd been in. "Hey Harry." She said, smiling slightly. Even if he was with Cho -
You could cling to the little things.
He'd come to see her, after all.
"Just wanted to see how you were doing." Harry said awkwardly. He smiled self-mockingly at her. "Suave, aren't I? I got you some flowers."
"They are customary." Ginny agreed, accepting them. This was good. He'd forget about her humiliating breakdown when she saw him talking to Cho in the Hall, and they could just be friends again.
And if that wasn't enough for her -
He'd never have to know.
Harry seemed to pick up her thoughts, because his smile suddenly became more natural, taking on an almost relieved air. "I'll leave you to your recuperation, then." He told her. "I want to drop by and see Ron as well."
"Weasley Week in the Hospital Wing." Ginny said sleepily. She took in his boyish face drowsily, wanting her last sight before she dropped into sleep to be that of Harry Potter.
Her hero.
Harry was gone. Surprising how he could do that so easily - slip in and out of rooms, so that you would never know he had been there -
_____
Draco Malfoy strolled down the Hospital Wing corridors, his face infuriatingly bland. He passed by Potter, who gave him one of his patented glares - Draco could have laughed, he was so predictable - before stomping off. Draco took that as a personal compliment. He didn't particularly want to be in the same vicinity as The Wonder Wizard, God's gift to witches anyway.
Of course, annoying him was so satisfying.
Draco whistled a light tune under his breath. He turned left as the corridor curved, and found himself in front of the youngest Weasley's room.
The kissable Weasley.
Quite possibly the only kissable Weasley.
Not that he was going to try out any of the others to make sure.
Draco didn't like it, but the fact remained that the youngest Weasley was eminently kissable. He didn't like her, but he didn't mind kissing her.
He didn't mind the way her shoulders felt under his hands either.
Or the way her body felt through a layer of cloth.
Or the way she panted, short, shallow breaths, when she practically begged to be kissed.
No bone, this youngest Weasley, all soft female flesh, no muscle or bone to be felt at all. Rather surprising, considering the fact that her father made about enough to feed one owl and an earthworm.
No - this youngest Weasley was made to lie on silk sheets, to be draped in jewels, to be fed the richest, most decadent chocolates...
So that when you kissed her, she would taste of sugar and woman, of heat and passion, of...
Of him.
Draco didn't like the fact that he was constantly picturing the youngest Weasley in poses that made it necessary to have a cold shower. Unfortunately, his hormones seem to be irresistibly drawn to the body she possessed. Equally unfortunately, Draco was always brutally honest with himself.
Draco slipped in the door, not wanting to awaken her.
He didn't even know why he was here -
Yes, he did.
He was here because he needed to see this girl -
He watched as she breathed, deep, even breaths, her face relaxed and soft as she slept, without the angry, hard expression she'd looked at him with not hours ago.
Nice to look at her like this, nobody knowing that he was here - he could just stand here and look at her for as long as he wanted...
His Sleeping Weasley...
His ears pricked up at the sound of footsteps padding down the corridor, too quickly for him to do anything. Too fast the door was opened, the light turned on, too fast a figure appeared in the doorway, revealing a rumpled but alert Ron Weasley.
A Ron Weasley who took in his position next to Ginny's bed, straightening quickly, but not quickly enough -
A Ron Weasley whose eyes widened, mouth dropped open, and tongue moved to shriek,
"What the hell are you doing, you - you pervert!"
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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.