Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money off of this story.
Setting: Fall, in the Trio's third year, and Ginny's second.
The silence of the library was broken by a rather annoyed slam of a book's cover against itself, making Cailean Urquhart look up from his Defence Against The Dark Arts homework that Professor Lupin had assigned. It was dinner, and he had thought the library empty, save himself and Madam Pince. While it was possible that Madam Pince had made the noise, he didn't think she was capable of treating any of her precious books so callously. So, of course, he had to go investigate.
He would have walked by her if she hadn't shifted in the small alcove just as he walked by. A moment later he wondered how he could have missed her. It was the youngest Weasley, and her hair was bright enough to catch the light, even in the darkened library. It was as though she had become so used to hiding and keeping herself from others that sheer force of will made her hard to see. It reminded him of the charms on Nessie to keep her hidden from muggles. So, of course, just to be contrary, the fourth year walked over and sat down at the table, not saying anything at first, just studying her.
He knew what was said around the castle, of course. That she had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets in her first year and rescued by Harry Potter. That much had been all but confirmed, even for Slytherins. The rest was shadowy gossip: some said she was the Heir of Slytherin, planted in a Gryffindor family and in Gryffindor to strike at the heart of the school, while others claimed she had been possessed by the Dark Lord himself, or that she had actually died in the Chamber and what came out was a soulless husk. This last one he found particularly laughable, as he had never known Inferi to walk, talk, or given where they were, read.
When she glared at him, he resisted the urge to laugh. His father had instilled in him many rules for life while he had taken the boy around the kennels where the family raised their champion deerhounds. Rule #9 had always stood him in good stead, with dogs and with people - when a pup or bitch glares at your intrusion, never laugh, just sit there until they've relaxed again. It was a difficult trial, but he refrained, and instead pulled out his homework and resumed his reading as though it was perfectly normal for him to sit there.
Ginny had no idea what the Slytherin wanted. She didn't know who he was - he wasn't in her year or in Quidditch, so all she had to go on was his green and silver uniform. She kept glancing up from her book, but he seemed to be ignoring her. She was suspicious of everyone, especially Slytherins, and almost decided to change seats before she took a deep breath and summoned all her Gryffindor courage, refusing to be scared off. If she did, it would just be proof that she was weak, and the little niggling voice of doubt in her mind, the one that sounded exactly like Tom would win again. She wasn't going to move, not until he did.
Ginny had just started to relax when he spoke, just a simple 'Hi,' but it put her on her guard. She did her best to imitate Professor McGonagall's best cool civility. "Hello."
That was it. That was all he said. She continued with her research until she heard the tell-tale thump of an impossibly heavy bag on a library table, which was her signal that it was time to leave, Hermione had arrived. She stood up, fixed her scarf, put the heavy book back, and started to walk away - feeling proud of herself. She had not been cowed by her discomfort. Just as she turned her back, though, he spoke again.
"Have a good night, then." The boy remarked. It was then Ginny realised with a start that he was Scottish. She hadn't been able to tell from a simple 'Hi,' but the slightly longer goodbye made it more obvious. It made her smile and gave her something she could use to differentiate him from Tom, or most of the other people who teased her, including Slytherins like Malfoy. She noticed she had stopped and attempted a smile that felt rather false. "Good night."
That was how it went for a few days. Ginny would go to her usual spot in the library, and eventually the brown-haired Slytherin would show up, and sit across from here. They would say hello and goodbye and otherwise stay in silence. It was odd, but Ginny was beginning to think of him as a friend, and she didn't even know his name. That was why, on the fifth day, while she was struggling through potions homework, she put down her all-but-stripped quill and looked up at the older boy. "I'm Ginny," she said, breaking the silence for the first time herself.
If Cailean was honest with himself, he had no idea why he kept coming over and sitting with the girl. Perhaps it was the same reason why he liked to go up to the Loch for at least one day every break and keep Nessie company. An idea that anything that had to keep itself hidden, by their own will or forced upon them, should know that someone saw them, at least once in a while. That didn't mean that he expected her to talk to him, per se, but the fact that she did made him lower his book, with an open, honest grin. "I'm Cailean." He replied easily.
Ginny blinked. "Colin?" She repeated, unsure if it was just his accent making the name seem stranger than when Colin Creevey said it.
It was only through loads of experience that Cailean managed not to roll his eyes. "No, lass, Cailean." He cleared his throat slightly and drew out his name as best he could, which was pretty well. "Kal-an, not Call-in or Coal-in."
"Cailean." Ginny repeated, easily, feeling a little bit better about these odd meetings now, and her curiosity was getting the better of her. "What's it mean?"
Cailean did roll his eyes then, but it wasn't directed at her, it was directed at the ceiling. "It means whelp, or puppy."
Ginny's eyes went wide. "Your parents named you 'puppy?' Why?"
"My family breeds deerhounds." Cailean explained. "I suppose my Da thought it was a bit of a laugh. There's a family tradition in our particular bloodline to only use names that start with G or C, because the ancestor that founded the clan's name began with a C, and G for the glen where we live." He shrugged. "It's a bit daft. What about you? What's Ginny mean?"
Ginny blew a stray lock of hair out of her face. "Ginny's short for Ginevra, according to Mum, it means juniper, but according to Dad it's a version of Guinevere, after the queen."
"I always felt bad for Guinevere." Cailean admitted, putting his book away. "In the stories, I mean. Kidnapped, manipulated, almost executed, saved again..." He shook his head. "The price of being royal, I guess."
Ginny considered that. "I never really thought of it that way." She admitted. "The stories are usually about Merlin, Arthur and Morgana."
Cailean started putting his things away. "Yeah, I know, but still." He threw his bag over one shoulder. "See you tomorrow, Ginny, have a good night." He stopped, though, a few steps away. "And the answer to number six is a rolling boil."
"Night." Ginny said, surprising herself with the fact that she was almost a little sad to see him go, until he distracted her with her homework, so that when she glanced up from fixing the mistake, he was already gone.
