by Jae
Chapter 3
Ginny yanked on her wellies and flew down the stairs without saying a word to the occupants of the common room. If she ran fast enough, she would be able to snag a bap from the Great Hall without having to sit down for a proper meal. The last thing she needed was to be surrounded by people and their searching eyes. She needed space. The light drizzle would keep nearly everyone indoors. Ginny would often do this at home, when the presence of her brothers overwhelmed her. She hadn’t skipped meals while she was at Hogwarts. They were often the only chance she had to be near Harry. Not that she ever used those chances for anything more than gawking silently.
Ginny sighed. Everything was about Harry, wasn’t it? She slowed her pace only slightly once out in the hallway. Especially this recent nonsense with Malfoy. She still had no bloody clue what she had been thinking. Ginny had done far more ridiculous things when having a fit. But to promise to pretend to be Malfoy’s girlfriend? This was not some romance novel. This was life. Her life. There was no way Harry would ever think that she and Malfoy were...Ginny snickered. The very thought of it was just too ridiculous. And of all the people to plot with, she had somehow landed Malfoy. Ginny resisted the urge to kick the wall. Stupid, pale-faced snot-nosed git that went mewling to his father whenever Harry so much looked him the wrong way. Perhaps someone had put a curse on her at birth. The curse of the youngest Weasley. And the only girl. No, a curse was not necessary. Ordinary circumstances seemed to do the trick quite nicely, cheers.
Ginny turned another corner and rushed down the flight of stairs. Ginny wrinkled her nose. She really needed to stop wallowing. It got her nowhere. What she needed was a whole entire platter of butter pies. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled loudly. Perhaps she should stay for supper. If she ate really quickly, she wouldn’t have to actually talk with people. She passed a group of giggling girls, oh so aware of their scrutiny and their eyes upon her back. Ginny made a face. No, she could be hungry for a few more hours.
The Great Hall was mostly empty. The plates were covered with steaming food, kept magically hot. Thankfully, with the exception of a few younger years, the Great Hall was empty. Ginny grabbed a ham and cheese bap and several butter pies, wrapped them and then tucked them away in her rucksack. She waved quickly at the Gryffindor table and walked out, trying to ignore her stomach growling loud protest. She fled for the nearest exit, the thought of running into either Harry or Draco pressing her. The hallways went on forever, and she swore the grumblings of her stomach reverberated against the walls, taunting her. Finally, the door lay before her. She yanked it opening, letting it shut with a resounding slam.
The sun was just beginning to set. Rather it was setting behind the clouds and the drizzle. Once outside, she stopped, lifting her face to the sky, letting the drops brush against her face. Ginny did a little dance, going ‘round and ‘round in loose circles, past the slate walkways, towards the surrounding grassy fields. She paused only to gobble the bap and a butter pie in greedy gulps. Somewhat satiated, Ginny turned her mind to the problem at hand. Harry and Draco.
There was no need to think about Harry. That was all she ever thought about. Malfoy was right. She really was a lovesick calf. But how did that make her worthy of Malfoy’s attention? Her feelings for Harry might have made her a perfect target. Even if Harry did not know her from a stone in a wall, she was vulnerable. Find the weakest link and attack it. Ginny was good at being weak. The baby sister had plenty of practice. And Harry, being the Hero, he would come swooping down on his Nimbus 2001 and save her. What a cunning little trap. Using her own rage and frustration against her. Ginny twisted her lips into a brief, bitter smile and shivered. Who could forget Tom and the journal? Not that she had been so open and welcoming before that incident. Ginny, by nature, was a friendly girl. It was the Weasley way. There were photo albums filled with little Ginny smiling and laughing without a care in the world. Even Percy was empathetic. It was his love of rules that obscured his warmer side. But Ginny felt the burden of the Weasley name. The not so silent laughter and pointing at her cheap robes, her used books, her hand me downs. The long line of accomplished and attractive older brothers. No one wanted to know Ginny Weasley for they already knew her. Weasley. That was all they needed. And the incident with Tom’s journal, well, she had yet another reason to be wary of anyone that wanted to be her "friend". Ginny scrunched up her face miserably. Mum and Dad had not let her live that down. She was lucky the Chamber of Secrets had happened at the end of the school year. Mum would have sent her week’s worth of Howlers. Well, no. Mum would come to Hogwarts and smother Ginny to pieces and then sent a week’s worth of Howlers.
And unlike Tom, Ginny knew exactly where Malfoy’s head was. All puffed up and balanced precariously over his slight shoulders. Or, more likely, in Malfoy Manor. Ginny smirked briefly. Everyone in Hogwarts knew that Malfoy was Daddy’s boy. Daddy was every other word out of his bloody mouth. Why would he suddenly see reason? It was rather convenient. A change of heart right before he attempted to seduce little Weasley. Of course Ginny thought any half-wit ought to know that He Who Must Not Be Named was up to no good, and Malfoy was not a half-wit. Conceited and selfish, but not stupid. Then again, he was practically slated to be a Death Eater from birth. Blood would tell. Perhaps. Was it right to let him live in the shadow of his name when she struggled in hers? And he was completely pig-headed about Muggles. He called Hermione a Mudblood, for Merlin’s sake.
Ginny opened her mouth, letting the raindrops wet her lips. She should have just said no. There was nothing keeping her tied to Malfoy. Absolutely nothing. The memory of a warm mouth over hers, bodies pressed, and heat, overwhelmed her. Ginny blushed. Fine, there was one bloody reason. But her heart still fluttered rapidly whenever she spied Harry’s messy black locks, or when he smiled at her. Those bright green eyes. And his scar. How she dreamed of kissing that scar. Her heart did not flutter when she saw Malfoy. He was too pale and sneering. But his eyes were a lovely dark grey colour, fringed with long eyelashes, usually sparkling with amusement. Laughing at the pathetic world, knowing the snarky bastard. His shoulder was just the right height for resting her head upon. Just like Harry’s. And his hands were elegant and perfect with slim, longer fingers. Even if Snape weren’t Potions Master, you just knew Malfoy was absolutely neat and precise in his class, not wasting an iota of effort, creating perfect potions and the proper effects. Perfect, pale Malfoy. And none of these observations changed the fact that she wanted to throttle Malfoy whenever she saw him.
Ginny fished out a butter pie. The bloody plan wouldn’t work. Short of getting involved with He Who Must Not Be Named, which Ginny had already tried, albeit unintentionally, Harry did not care a fig about her love life. And for all Malfoy’s posturing, he was most certainly not He Who Must Not Be Named. Ginny sniggered. Dragons indeed! At the rate she was going, she would be found lying on the floor of that study cupboard, her hands wrapped around Malfoy’s neck. If she wasn’t caught in the middle of a snogging session. She needed to ask someone for advice. And not just anyone. Someone wise. And more importantly, someone discreet. Which, of course, meant Hermione. Ginny wiped her hands against her robe. That was perhaps the best idea she had all day. Besides, her toes were starting to get cold. Ginny headed back towards the castle.
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Ginny strode purposefully into the Great Hall. She had managed to come at the height of the supper hour. She wished she had changed her clothing. Each squelch grew louder and louder the closer she got to the Gryffindor table. She ignored everyone’s looks and walked right next to Hermione. Hermione turned to Ginny, taking in her wellies and her dripping outfit. Hermione began to open her mouth, ready to deliver a sermon. Ginny shook her head. Hermione raised her eyebrow at Ginny and Ginny shook her head again.
Ginny leaned forward and whispered into Hermione’s ear, "Can we meet after dinner in your room, Hermione? I’ve something I need to ask you."
Hermione nodded. "Yes, you may," she replied, putting slight emphasis on the may.
Ginny nodded. Ron rolled his eyes at Hermione and returned to his conversation with Dean, as if he hadn’t been watching Hermione at all. Ginny waved nonchalantly, ignoring Harry. She felt Draco’s gaze on her back and flicked not even an eyelash. All she wanted was dry clothes.
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After a warm bath and a change of clothes, Ginny felt much better. She idly picked at the cuff of Ron’s old jumper as she shuffled in front of Hermione’s door. Being a sixth year prefect definitely had its privileges. However, that privilege did not extend to heating the hallway in front of one’s door. Even in October, the castle was freezing. She shivered. Her poor ankles. Ginny knew she should have put on a pair of socks. What was keeping Hermione?
Hermione came rushing down the hallway, her arms filled with books. Ginny raised an eyebrow and opened her arms. Hermione gave her the books to Ginny and waved her wand at the door. The door swung open and the two of them walked in.
"I should have known you were in the library. We should have met there," Ginny said as she dumped the books onto Hermione’s bed. Ginny smiled warmly at Hermione, her dimple showing.
Hermione carefully hung her robe on a hook and began piling the books neatly on her desk.
"If I recall correctly, I’ve been seeing quite a lot of someone in the library lately. And I applaud any desire to read the advanced arthimancy scrolls, truly, I do, but...."
A pillow went flying into Hermione’s back. She turned around and smiled at Ginny. Ginny stuck her tongue out at Hermione.
"So what is bothering you, Ginny?" Hermione asked as she sat down on her bed, patting the spot next to her. Ginny flopped down on the bed, cradling her head in her hands as she stared at the ceiling.
Ginny heaved a long sigh. "Where do I begin? I’m in such a mess you would not believe it, Hermione."
Hermione took off her shoes and loosened her tie. "Ginny, you know that I think you should ask Harry first. He’s a bit shy and a bit slow. Subtle hints get you nowhere with Harry. And he likes you. He just doesn’t realise it."
Ginny sighed. "No, it’s worse than that, Hermione. Miles and miles worse."
Hermione turned and crossed her legs beneath her, looking down at Ginny. "You don’t have to say all of it right away. Just start with the first bit. It can’t be all that bad, can it?" Hermione squeezed Ginny’s hand and gave a small smile. Ginny couldn’t help smiling in response. In spite of what Ron thought, Hermione was the kindest person Ginny knew. Hermione truly listened. The full attention of Hermione Granger was of course a dubious pleasure. Because after Hermione listened, she responded. You couldn’t lie to her. That, Ginny supposed, was the reason Ron found Hermione’s kindness hard to swallow.
Ginny waited a moment and let the silence stretch on and on. Hermione, in turn, was willing to wait. She stepped off the bed and changed into her nightgown, hanging and folding her clothing neatly, setting out a fresh uniform for tomorrow. All the while, Ginny stared at the ceiling. As Hermione sat back on the bed, Ginny found the courage to speak.
"Well, it is somewhat connected to Harry. But you have to promise not to tell a soul. Not a single soul," Ginny said, still hesitating.
Hermione made a face and nodded. Ginny wrinkled her nose. "I keep forgetting that you’re not a blabbermouth like some people," Ginny said ruefully. This time, a pillow went flying at Ginny’s face, but she deflected it neatly. Years of living in the Weasley household prepared her for that sort of thing.
"Do you remember last week when I ran out of the Great Hall in tears? Harry called me one of the boys, or something silly like that." The words came tumbling out. Hermione nodded encouragement. "I ran off, to the advanced arthimancy scroll section. I’d stumbled upon an abandoned study cupboard. I’m sure you know about them. And then, he was there, and I was so angry, and when I see red, I do the most ridiculous things! Just ask Ron about the time I snuck a live hornet’s nest into the twin’s bedroom for slipping an experimental Ton Tongue Toffee into my pudding. Rotters deserved every single sting they got." Ginny sat up and began waving her hands in the air, clearly still incensed about the Ton Tongue Toffee. Hermione bit her lip and said nothing. "And I kissed him. And then he said we should become partners, because in love and war, anything is fair, but really, Malfoy? That’s just going too bloody far, I tell you, too bloody far!" Ginny flopped back yet again, letting her breath out explosively.
Hermione blinked once slowly. She twirled a curl around her finger as she considered Ginny’s words. Ginny waited.
"You did hear me say Malfoy, right, Hermione?" Ginny asked.
"Yes, I did, Ginny," Hermione replied, still twirling a curl around her finger absently.
"Then why aren’t you saying anything? Your jaw should be on the floor. This is Malfoy we’re talking about here!" Ginny squealed indignantly, hating herself for the drama. But really, what did it take to get Hermione riled up? Well, besides Ron.
Hermione put her finger against Ginny’s lips. "Ginny, you’re going to send the prefects over here if you’re too loud. It’s late. And I heard you the first time."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Hermione, you are a bloody prefect." Hermione blushed and nodded sheepishly. "It’s no wonder you drive Ron absolutely mad, " Ginny continued. She squeezed Hermione’s hand to soften the joke.
Hermione snorted. "Well, now that you've let that out, back to the issue at hand. Draco Malfoy. That is a rather...messy situation," Hermione mused out loud. "But it is Malfoy. I’m sure if you slapped him and said a few choice words, he’d leave you alone. You’re not under some spell, are you?" Hermione looked intently at Ginny and started to reach for her wand.
Ginny blushed and rolled over to lie on her stomach, hiding her face behind her folded arms. "No, I’m not under a spell," she mumbled. The pit in her stomach was bottomless and the lump of shame sunk forever.
Hermione wrinkled her nose. "Well, without the aid of a spell, no one in their right mind would feel bad about breaking a promise to Malfoy. So...oh." Hermione’s voice trailed off, understanding stopping her words. "Oh." Hermione stroked Ginny’s hair. The lump of shame still sunk. Yes, there was definitely no bottom in her stomach, none whatsoever. "You know, I’ve never told anyone this, but Viktor was an extraordinarily good kisser. I was fond of him, of course, making it easier for me. But there’s nothing wrong with snogging for snogging’s sake, Ginny."
Sinking, sinking. "But Hermione, it’s Malfoy!"
"Yes, Ginny. That’s the fourth time you’ve said it. I’m really not that daft. Not Ron or Harry, remember? Yes, Malfoy is a bad fish, but I don’t know if it’s fair to be so hasty in your judgment. You can’t fault him for his name. The burden of a name can be a heavy one. Look at Harry. Look at you," Hermione pointed out calmly.
Ginny raised herself so that she sat cross-legged, facing Hermione. " Hermione, are you asking me to pity Draco Malfoy? When has nothing not been handed to him on a silver platter? With Galleons on the side? And for Merlin’s sake, he called you a Mudblood! How could I enjoy snogging something like that?"
Hermione’s face took on a neutral expression, her eyes pensive. Ginny began picking at the jumper again. There, she had said everything she had wanted to. Hermione would be able to untangle her thoughts. But what would Hermione say? Hermione would hate her. Hate her, hate her, hate her.
"It’s a bit more complicated than that, Ginny. I suppose it’s harder to see as a Wizard born. But as a Muggle born, well, Draco’s views are not so surprising. They’re not nice, yes, but you know where you stand with him. The main problem is his ignorance. He thinks it means something, to be pure, when it’s quite clear it means nothing. I can perform a spell just as well as he can. And there are Wizard born who have not a spark of magic in them. His obsession with history, well, he’d fit in quite well with the Muggle Royal Court. Although given their present day antics, I don’t know if they could afford to be so high and mighty. So let’s just say my exposure to snobs extends beyond Draco Malfoy." Hermione smiled slightly and shook her head.
"But ignorance cuts both ways. Muggle Studies was horrible. They got everything wrong in class. The professors, the students, they could just care a fig how accurate the information was. We Muggles are like exotic animals in cages for them. And I would be the center of the display. Everyday, I would have to give a report, like a parrot. Dean, even Seamus, would also play their part. Harry was spared, because no one is more truly a wizard than the Boy Who Lived. But people forget that he was raised as a Muggle. In some ways, he’s even more of a Muggle than I am. Yes, it was the fault of the Dursleys, but it doesn’t change the fact that he didn’t know. So you see, I don’t get so hung up on Draco. Ignorance is ignorance, whether fueled by hate or misguided fascination. And they both hurt, Ginny, they really do." Hermione’s voice grew softer and softer until Ginny could barely hear the last words.
Ginny could only stare at Hermione. Dad was like that. Pretending to be such an expert of Muggles when he knew nothing about them. She had seen Harry wince at Dad’s mistakes and attempt to correct him with a smile. Her hands flew up to her mouth in horror and Hermione shook her head, hugging Ginny.
"Ginny, I’m not being much help, am I?" Hermione asked, biting her lip.
Ginny blushed again, this time fighting back tears as she shook her head.
Hermione shook her head. "All right, let me try again. Draco Malfoy may be a git, but he’s not evil."
Ginny raised her eyebrow. "He all but admitted to his father being a Death Eater and He Who Must Not Be Named’s lackey."
Hermione peered at Ginny. "Are you sure you’re not under a spell?"
Ginny shook her head. "Malfoy claims He Who Must Not Be Named would kill him on a whim and it did not fit into his plans for world domination," she drawled, exaggerating Draco’s accent.
Hermione smirked. "Well, if you say it like that, it’s not so hard to believe. Oh, I don’t doubt he would lie through his teeth to get to you, Ginny, but it rings true."
Ginny made a face. "That’s what I thought. But you can’t trust Malfoy. He is Slytherin."
Hermione shook her head. "No, you can trust him to look out for his best interests. It is in his best interest to live. It is also in his best interest to beat Harry. Harry has all the attention and glory that Draco believes is his right. And if not in Quidditch, well then love."
Ginny gave Hermione a sceptical look. Hermione smiled slightly.
"Quidditch is war for these boys, after all."
Ginny shook her head impatiently. "I got that, Hermione. I am just highly disturbed that you’ve managed to repeat the very same things Draco said to me. Have you been studying telepathy behind my back?"
Hermione laughed. Ginny stared at her, perplexed.
"Oh, Ginny, sometimes I really do think you’ve spent too much time around Ron. If you watch people, you can learn plenty about them. Draco’s not so hard to figure out. His motives are clear; he seeks to advance himself. If you really want to continue with his little game, what you need to do is keep him guessing. That will give you the upper hand. He’s methodical and careful. He doesn’t deal well with surprises."
Ginny snorted. "I suppose my snogging was perfect commonplace for him. The way girls throw themselves at him. Git probably thought I was just like other girls."
"I’m surprised he chose you though. He must think you’re meek and complacent. I can’t imagine where he got that idea from." Ginny snatched the pillow and smacked Hermione on the head. Hermione dodged the smack and continued. "And if you are enjoying the snogs, there is a high likelihood that he is too." Ginny swung the pillow and made contact this time. Hermione grabbed a pillow and the conversation stopped as they began an all out pillow fight.
Many swings later, Hermione and Ginny stood by the door, Ginny ready to leave. Hermione squeezed Ginny’s hand.
"I don’t know if I helped at all, but really, I don’t think working with Draco would be so horrible. It’s not the nicest plan, but Harry is thick."
Ginny quipped, "Yes, like Ron?" Hermione glowered at the now innocently smiling Ginny.
"You may need to get involved with Draco to get Harry’s attention. Desperate measures are occasionally required, especially when he’s usually trying to save the world," Hermione continued.
Ginny nodded. "I suppose. But it would be nice to be recognised for what I am, not for whom I spend my time with."
Hermione smiled wryly. "I agree wholeheartedly, Ginny. You sleep on it. Mum’s the word. If you need any help: cover stories, passes, anything, just ask. And remember, keep him on his toes. I’m sure Draco will dance well enough to your pretty tune."
"Cheers, Hermione. You’re brilliant."
"Of course, Ginny. Good night."
"Good night."
Ginny shut the door and tip toed to her bed. Keep him on his toes? Why not? They both deserved it. And they would never know what hit them. With that triumphant thought, Ginny snuggled into her sheets and drifted off to sleep.
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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.