Chapter 2: Like a Bird on the Wing
He was kissing her, and for the briefest second there was heat that ran in a wave down her spine. In the next moment, she was dizzy with cold that burned blue behind her eyelids following every icy breath Draco breathed into her lungs. Every time he inhaled, his mouth pulled the warmth out of her body with a sharp tug. By the time her clouded conscious realized she owned arms, somewhere around the third breath, she didn't have the will to push him away. This is how I would feel if someone died, the thought. In that second, she knew who had.
Ginny's eyes flew open and she jerked her head back. Unsupported, Draco slumped forward and began to slide toward the floor. Ginny managed to catch the shoulder of his robes and haul his now limp body back onto the seat. She turned the lamps back up and forced her still-muddled mind to work. The Fred and George part of her wanted to take up her quill and doodle swear words all over his unconscious body. The Percy-ish part of her personality knew that at the very least she couldn't simply leave him here, no matter how much of a pain he might be.
Ginny sat down next to Draco and pulled his arm over her shoulder. Careful to keep her face away from his, she wrapped her arm around his waist and hauled him to his feet. He wasn't necessarily heavy, but his height, coupled with his flaccid limbs, caused her to pitch forward and just miss knocking her head against the opposite bench. Unfortunately, she was now trapped under a pile of crumpled Malfoy.
"Help?" she tried first. Ginny was rewarded immediately with the sound of quick footsteps and the click of the compartment door opening.
"No need for help, we is taking the trunks up for you... Miss Wheezy, what is you still doing here? You is missing the feast!" A house-elf wearing a mismatched pair of socks, a tea cozy, a pair of checkered shorts, and a T-shirt that said FREI across the chest was tugging on her robes. "And you shouldn't be in here snogging -- is that Master Malfoy?" queried the house-elf, eyes wide. "Look at him!"
Ginny pushed his head off her shoulder and looked. A swirling pattern of silver-blue frost sparkled in rings around his eyes, and she could swear that it was spreading. "Madam Pomfrey," she managed to mumble through her numb lips. What was it Charlie used this summer when we had to take Morwood to the infirmary tent because the Fireball stepped on his leg? Think!
"Mobilicorpus!" she cried, finally able to reach her wand, and smiled weakly as Draco hung limply in the air above her head.
"Come quickly, Miss Wheezy! We can take you up to school with the trunks," said the house-elf, urgently pulling at her hand.
"We weren't snogging," Ginny shouted over the roar of the wind as she followed the house-elf off the train.
***
Ginny had never been so relieved to see the entrance hall of Hogwarts. It had taken several house-elves to hold the heavy doors open against the wind, and Draco had nearly been blown out of her grasp twice in the ten steps from the carriage to the door.
They weren't as late as she had feared. Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were casting drying charms on the robes of a small, frightened looking group of first-years that were dripping all over the floor, as she was. "Madam Pomfrey," she croaked hoarsely, pulling Draco along behind her like a kite as she crossed the floor.
Ginny didn't even see Madam Pomfrey conjure the stretcher, but there it was and Draco was already floating toward the hospital wing with his face covered in a glittering mask of ice. "I th-think h-h-he's sick," she forced out through her chattering teeth as Professor McGonagall dried her robes for her.
"Never mind that now, Madam Pomfrey will take care of it," Professor McGonagall said briskly, distracted by the shocked muttering coming from the huddle of first-years. "Hurry in to the Great Hall and inform Professor Snape that he is wanted in the hospital wing." She turned away, forming the new students into two lines.
Shivering, Ginny passed into the Great Hall, conscious of the many pairs of eyes that turned toward her as she walked between the long tables. Most of the students turned back to their conversations once they saw that the first-years weren't with her, but she kept her own eyes fixed firmly on the head table, not wanting to meet the gaze of Harry, Ron, Hermione, or the twins. She wondered if she was seeing double, but after a moment realized that the head table was pushed forward and another set of long tables was placed behind. They were not currently occupied.
Fixing her path toward the Potions Master, Ginny passed the house tables and drew to a halt before the Head Table. Snape came half out of his seat, looking over her head toward the Slytherin table. "Madam Pomfrey w-w-wants you, M-Malfoy's sick," Ginny managed. She saw an odd look pass between Snape and Professor Dumbledore before Snape swept out a side door, unnoticed by all but Ginny as the attention of everyone in the room was drawn to the sorting processional.
***
Ginny rubbed her hands together under the table, trying to warm up while half-listening to Colin Creevey rattle on about his summer holidays through a mouthful of treacle pudding. Unfortunately for Ginny, every dish that had appeared within her reach was room temperature or below. Her late entrance had been forgotten, but she didn't want to attract any attention just now by asking for something warm to be passed, and luckily everyone had left her alone with her thoughts. Well, and Colin, but that was nearly alone. By the time the puddings had been brought out, she was having trouble holding her knife and fork between her stiff fingers.
The Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw tables had each received a share of the disturbingly small group of new students, but only two of the group had become Slytherin. Half of the seats at the Slytherin table were empty.
"Rumor is, they've all gone over to Durmstrang. Surprising, since the Daily Prophet says that their headmaster is missing," Neville was saying to Hermione, farther along the table.
"More surprising is that any school would accept anybody as annoying as Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Too bad Zabini didn't go too," remarked Ron, surveying the Slytherin students over a goblet of pumpkin juice. Won't Ron be surprised, that is, if Malfoy's not an ice lolly, Ginny mused. The clanging of a spoon against a goblet halted their conversation, and Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat for the traditional start-of-term speech.
"On behalf of the staff of Hogwarts School, I would like to wish you all a warm welcome. The safety of all of our students is a top priority, so please note that the Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students, and that magic is not allowed in the hallways. Students are not to be out of their common rooms unaccompanied after the evening study period..." Here a house-elf scampered in and handed a bit of parchment to the Headmaster before bowing and scurrying out of the hall.
Dumbledore glanced at the note, and then continued. "On a more serious note, you may remember my words to you at the close of last term. There are dangerous times ahead." Ron, Harry, and Hermione exchanged sober glances.
Dumbledore went on. "In light of this, your Professors and I have spent the summer holidays reconsidering how your education should progress. A number of new teachers will be with us this year, some full time and some on a visiting basis. We believe that our new system will prepare you more fully for life after Hogwarts. I had planned to speak at length about our new system this evening, but I can see that many of our new staff members have been delayed by the storm. And, in any case, the professors and I have matters of scheduling and the like to attend to. Please enjoy the rest of the evening settling in and relaxing in your common rooms. We will meet here again tomorrow at nine o'clock. Prefects, please lead your houses to your common rooms."
After a moment of complete silence, the noise in the room escalated to a deafening pitch as each and every student speculated about what Dumbledore's words would bring. Everyone was talking at once, and even the other professors looked confused, as if they had expected something else to happen. Alicia Spinnet took charge of the Gryffindor table herself, mouthing the new password to the older students as she beckoned to the first-years to follow her.
Feeling like she was back on platform nine and three-quarters, Ginny hung back as the crush of students resolved itself. She joined the last trickle of students and was halfway up the first set of stairs when she felt a hand grasp her shoulder rather harder than was necessary.
***
Ginny walked next to Severus Snape through the dimly lit passageways, trying to banish the fluttery feeling in her stomach. It had subsided slightly when she realized that he wasn't leading her toward the dungeons for a spot of torture, but the realization that they must be heading for the hospital wing brought it back full strength. If only Snape would say something, like 'you're in a lot of trouble for killing Draco Malfoy, missy,' or even 'I'm going to drain all of your blood with Madam Pomfrey's help to make a nice ratafia,' Ginny could focus her fear instead of imagining horrible scenarios.
Snape led her down the corridor to the hospital wing and through the double doors to the infirmary, where he pointed to a chair near the entrance. He gave her a hard look before walking briskly toward a cauldron bubbling away atop a pedestal. Madam Pomfrey was dimming the lamps except for one near the last bed, and Professor Flitwick was casting charms on a pile of blankets before floating them down over the prostrate form of Draco Malfoy. Professor Dumbledore looked up at her from where he sat on a stool at the foot of the bed, and rose to his feet.
"Is he dead?" Ginny whispered, when he stood before her.
"Come and see," replied Dumbledore. She followed him past the empty beds, until she stood just past the circle of light where Madam Pomfrey was holding a vial of Snape's potion to Draco's white lips. He was no longer covered in ice, but was still unconscious.
"What happened?" Ginny asked softly, unable to look away.
"We were hoping you would help us with that," said Dumbledore, indicating that she should sit down on the stool.
Ginny sat stiffly, painfully aware of his scrutiny. She considered making up a story about finding him outside but knew that her blushes always gave her away when she lied. She would have to tell the truth, just not all of it.
"I saw Malfoy on the train. He was alone, and acting... strangely. When we arrived, I found him collapsed on the floor and some house-elves helped me bring him up to the school." That should be enough; I'm not the Weasley with the reputation for being involved in secret plots.
Dumbledore was silent a moment. "Draco owes you his life. Madam Pomfrey tells me that a few minutes more and he would have frozen to death. Have you heard of Dementor's Disease, Virginia?"
Ginny shook her head, unable to tear her eyes away from Draco's face as it gradually regained color.
"When a witch or wizard suffers a severe emotional shock and is not treated for it, they become susceptible to Dementor's Disease. It causes a drop in body temperature accompanied by increasing feelings of despair, and eventually the person freezes to death. Luckily, it is curable, although easier to treat when the patient is not so ill. Madam Pomfrey believes that we will see Draco up and about in the morning. I will be awarding twenty-five points to Gryffindor for your actions toward a member of another house." Ginny wondered if he meant that she was being rewarded for helping a Slytherin, or if he was referring to the bad blood between their families. "By the way, congratulations on your entrance into the Dragonriders Society. I hear you are the youngest woman in some time to join their ranks," continued Dumbledore, smiling now. "Off to bed, then, ready for start of term."
Ginny rose to her feet, opening her mouth to say something about Draco's mother, but realized that Draco hadn't actually said anything about her. Explaining that she had gotten a strange feeling from kissing him was out of the question, so she snapped her mouth shut. Dumbledore stepped away to speak in low tones to Madam Pomfrey and she decided to make her exit.
She was no more than a few steps into the hall when she heard an unwelcome voice behind her.
"Miss Weasley," began the unmistakable baritone of Severus Snape.
Ginny grimaced. What did he want her for? To deride her, or arrange a detention? She turned around slowly to face her least favorite teacher. He was holding a steaming vial toward her, but she made no move to take it.
"Dementor's Disease has only one way of spreading from person to person," he continued. "Your lips are blue."
She grabbed the vial and drained it in one swallow. Feeling warmth return to her body instantly, she handed the vial back to Snape, muttered a word of thanks, and bolted for the common room.
***
"Fred wears boxers," Ginny muttered, and the Fat Lady's portrait swung open ("How does everyone know that?") to reveal the cheery Gryffindor common room. Groups of students were playing chess or Exploding Snap around the tables while others sat on the window seats or near the fire talking and sharing sweets. Neville's toad, still sporting wings, was perched on the mantelpiece. Neville himself, with help from Hermione, consulted a book on breaking curses nearby.
Ginny made a beeline for the girls' dormitories, but Ron caught the sleeve of her robes when she passed his chair. "Where have you been?" asked Ron, a suspicious expression knotting his features.
"Hospital wing. Caught cold. I feel better now." Although this was all true, the thought of what she left out -- the part Ron really wanted to know -- made her cheeks burn. She shot a quick smile at Harry, hoping they would chalk it up to her crush.
"We were worried when you were late to the feast," said Harry, looking at her through slightly narrowed eyes as he toyed with a pawn. He was probably thinking of the times he had missed it himself. Still, his attention surprised Ginny, renewing her blushes.
"I fell asleep on the train, and I had to come up to the castle with the house-elves," she responded, a little too quickly. Just then, Hermione came up to report on Neville's toad and Ginny suspected that their reluctance to talk about house-elves with Hermione around was the reason she managed to get away from them so easily.
Later, when she was curled up under the covers of her four-poster bed with the red velvet hangings drawn against the chilly dampness that seeped through the stones of the tower, Ginny let her mind wander back to the kiss on the train. She tried to remember the bliss of that first second, tried to remember the first rushing sensation before the pain, but all she could come up with was the thought that no one had kissed her like that before. No one had ever kissed her like they were drowning and she could save them. Not Neville, who had planted a tight-lipped prune of a kiss on her out in the garden at the end of the Yule Ball last year. Not Colin, who had slobbered all over her when they had walked out to the empty Quidditch stands in the spring of her second year. That kiss and Hagrid's dog Fang had been inseparable in her mind ever since.
Unfortunately, that brief moment of pleasure was overshadowed by the simple fact that Draco really had been drowning, in a sense, if something really had happened to his mother. If he was grieving. The heat he had stolen from Ginny had probably prolonged his life just enough to make it to the hospital wing, although she doubted he knew that.
Ginny thought that she and her brothers had suffered every childhood wizarding illness, but she hadn't heard of Dementor's Disease. She never wanted to catch it again. Probably easy enough to avoid, since I won't be kissing Malfoy, ever, she thought, as sleep overcame her.
***
The observation car was made of glittering, translucent ice, and she could see a vast, flat winter landscape through the windows. From where she stood, swaying at the center of the empty car, she could see that it ran swiftly along the track alone and uncoupled from any engine.
Draco wrapped his arms around her, and she tilted her head back to rest against his shoulder. "She's dead, you know. We can only save ourselves, and sometimes our greengrocers."
"I know. That's what Bill always says," replied Ginny, twisting in his arms to see her reflection in his green eyes and running her hand over the scar on his forehead.
He lifted his hand and pulled at her hair.
***
"Oi, Pigwidgeon, enough," yelped Ginny quietly as she pulled the owl off of her plait and sat up in bed, sweeping one bed curtain aside to let a bright shaft of early morning sun touch the inside top panel of the hangings. She untied the scrap of parchment from his leg, and, not having a treat at hand, planted a kiss on top of his fluffy head. The owl gave a cheery hoot and flew out the slightly open door of her room. Leave it to Pigwidgeon.
Ginny unrolled the scrap of parchment and leaned toward the window to catch the light, forgetting her disturbing dreams.
Dear Ginny,
Your father says that you and your brothers may be needing additional books, and I know that we have a box full of them in the attic if new editions aren't necessary. Please send a school owl for them. I tried to send Pigwidgeon back with one, but he couldn't make it across the yard and you know how I feel about sending Errol. Give my love to your brothers and tell Ron that I will send the underwear he forgot along with the books.
Love, Mum
Ginny smirked as she climbed noiselessly out of bed to write a reply on the back of the letter, imagining Ron opening a parcel of books at breakfast and having his underthings spill out onto his toast. A glance at her watch told her it was far too early to be out of the common room, although she suspected that not even Filch bothered to patrol the hallways at this time of day. She bathed and dressed quickly, careful not to disturb her roommates, and combed through her waist-length hair until it was nearly dry. Still too early to go out.
Making a sudden decision, Ginny pocketed her mother's letter and snatched her broomstick from the corner behind her bed. She slipped down the stairs into the common room, unlatched a window, and with a running leap was on her broomstick and out into the crisp morning air.
Less than five minutes later Ginny was in the Owlery with her hair tangled and cheeks flushed from a fast lap around the Quidditch field. The storm had passed, leaving a dazzlingly bright, wet world under the azure sky. She leaned her broomstick against a wall and sent an owl off to the Burrow. For a long moment, she wondered if she should send an owl to Draco, asking him not to tell anyone about what had happened on the train and subtly inquiring about his mother. She screwed up her face in a scowl. Her moment of pity would probably be transformed into a weapon to be used against her once he regained his full strength.
Remounting her broom, Ginny floated out of the Owlery and swooped down toward the hospital wing, counting windows as she flew. I'm just going to see if he's still there. Need to be prepared, after all. She hovered below the casements, counted to ten, and poked her head up to peer through the glass.
The infirmary was empty.
Several floors below, in the Slytherin dormitory, Draco Malfoy was brushing his teeth for the fifth time and muttering something about obnoxious redheads.
***
| Previous Chapter | Home | Next Chapter |
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.