Ginny ran down the stairs as fast as she could without losing her footing. If she were to slip and fall on her arse now she would lose her lead. As it was, her lead was slim, a shite-load of other things could also go very, very wrong, and she was trying hard not to think of them. She jumped over the last three stairs and rounded a corner, sending up a quick prayer to whoever was listening that there would be no one hiding next to the wall there. And, nope, she was good. Not like she would be able to react quickly enough even if she did run into someone. Her mind was going a million miles a minute and none of it was useful, only anxious guesses as to what the worst possible thing that could possibly happen next would be. No, she should be preparing to send a Stunning Spell, or throw up a Shield. Oh shite. What was the incantation for a Shield? She had practiced Shields until she could do them nonverbally but you still had to mentally invoke the incantation and for some reason it had slipped her mind—
A screech escaped her as she lost her footing. She had started down another staircase without looking, too busy trying to remember—Protego. Of course. She tumbled head over heels to the landing at the bottom. Everything hurt, and she mentally screamed at herself to get up, get up, get the fuck up but she couldn't seem to get her body to move.
Deep breath. Take a deep breath. You're good. Get up. She rolled onto her hands and knees, bringing her right knee to her chest and getting a foot on the ground to push herself up with. She pushed off, sucking in another breath, knowing she was unbalanced, knowing she had to keep going.
Pressure around her shoulders inexplicably pulled her back, and her arse hit the ground hard. She shook her head and tried to crawl to her feet again, scampering pathetically. A low laugh sounded from behind her, but she barely heard it over the rushing sound in her ears. This couldn't be happening; he couldn't have caught up with her.
Another failed attempt to stand had her falling to her knees, red hair falling in her face and clouding her vision. She gripped her wand tightly, trying to think of a good spell but all her mind would give her was Protego and that would do her no good here. Think. THINK.
She twisted around, still on her hands and knees, hoping to catch him by surprise, yelling, "Stupefy!" She quickly followed it with "Protego!" just in case, because she hadn't had time to assess the situation yet. As the blue light from her Shield faded, his face and the god-awful smirk planted so firmly on it became clear. He had easily dodged her Stunner. His grey eyes sparkled with mirth, and then she noticed he was still laughing deep in his throat. Her eyes followed the line of his body, from his white-blond head down his slender torso, down his tailored trousers leg to the polished shoe pinning the hem of her robes to the ground. She glared at it, then up at him.
"Let me go," she said, trying to put all the venom she felt in her voice. To her own ears, it sounded childish and scared. Desperately, she pulled at the cloth in an attempt to slide it out from under his foot.
His smirk grew wider, turning into a full-on smile. White teeth shone in the dimness of the corridor. Her lungs filled with ice.
"Weasley," he said, his voice dripping over her name like honey. "Weasley, Weasley, Weasley. You give me no incentive."
She swallowed, but it felt like there was a lump the size of a snitch in her throat. Her lips drew into a thin line, and she squared her shoulders.
"You're not going to say please?" he said. His mouth had taken on a condescending frown, the kind given to a child who won't share his toys.
She lifted her chin and stared up at him with what she hoped was defiance in her eyes. "You're not going to fuck off?" she asked him.
His mouth twisted but before he could react a high voice drifted down the corridor. "Draco, darling, wherever did you go?"
Malfoy responded without breaking eye contact with Ginny, "I'm over here, Aunt Bella, if you really must know." He raised an eyebrow at the way she was still crouched on the floor, pinned by his foot. A second later, he deliberately stepped off of her robes.
She didn't hesitate, launching herself to her feet and taking off down the hallway. She dove into the secret passage behind the one-eyed witch and ran as fast as she could. From a distance, she heard Malfoy exchanging words with his aunt, but she couldn't discern any words.
Molly Weasley wasn't going to allow Ginny to go back to Hogwarts but with Arthur's known involvement in the Order she didn't have much choice. As terrible as Hogwarts was probably going to be under Snape's rule, the farther she was from her father, the safer she would be. And for some reason, despite the betrayal, Molly couldn't shake the feeling that Snape would protect her only daughter. Or at least wouldn't go out of his way to endanger her. Ginny had never been Snape's favorite but he didn't despise her like he did Harry or Ron. If anything, he probably thought her unworthy of his time or torment.
Ginny knew all of this. It was evident on her mother's face as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station. Molly's eyes were tearing up as she desperately tried to tell herself that this would not be the last time she saw her daughter. Ginny had reassured her mother that she would be fine, that she was a pureblood, and insignificant. She'd be able to keep her temper and head down. She had let her mother hug her too tightly, had acted normally, painted a smile on her face. But as her mother faded from sight, Ginny let her shoulders slump, exhaustion washing over her.
She was desperate for an empty compartment. She hadn't been alone with her own thoughts all summer—her mother and father barely let her out of their sight, trying to make the most of whatever time they had left with her, and simultaneously trying to make sure she was coping with Harry's absence. They didn't fully know or believe that he had broken up with her, even if it was under some "greater good" excuse. Molly must have suspected and called horseshite on the whole affair because she had kept saying things like, "when Harry gets back" and "I know you must miss him" and reassurances that Harry missed Ginny as well. But Ginny wasn't so sure anymore. There would be no way for Harry to contact her, of course, but she couldn't help thinking that she just wasn't important enough for Harry to think about, what with You-Know-Who and all, and maybe she had just been a girlfriend of convenience, and nice snog, but unworthy of dedication, attention, and a fully devoted relationship.
Or maybe she was expecting too much out of him, or over-thinking it, or acting like a child.
She suddenly realized that she had wandered very far down the train. Thinking a nearby compartment empty, she entered without knocking.
"And just what do you think you're doing?"
Her head snapped to her right, to the corner she hadn't been able to check. Rage welled inside her chest. "Malfoy," she spat, and backhanded him before he could react.
The next thing she knew he had risen from his seat, pushing her into the one opposite with his arm forming a bar across her chest, elbow and wrist each pinning a shoulder. His wand dug painfully into her neck.
"What the hell is your problem?" he hissed. "It's like you're asking for something bad to happen." She glared up into his eyes, remembering the last time she had. They had been stormy grey and glittering with malice and amusement. Revulsion twisted her stomach.
"Like you don't know," she responded.
"What, that I may or may not have saved your life?" He raised an eyebrow.
Her jaw dropped in outrage. "I think you mean spare my life. The only reason that I—or anyone else—was in mortal danger that night was because of you, you filthy murderer!"
Malfoy scoffed and pressed down harder on her. She slid down in the seat a little more, putting her back in an uncomfortable position. "In case you didn't get the owl, I didn't kill anyone. That was Snape."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't have happened if not for you. Blood is still on your hands even if you were too weak to do it yourself."
At that, Malfoy grabbed her arm and flung her to the floor of the compartment. Pain exploded behind her eyes as the breath rushed out of her. She realized belatedly that he had kicked her in the stomach, winding her. "You would do well to not talk about matters you know nothing about, dear."
Ginny dragged in a painful breath and attempted to rise to her feet. He waited until she was almost up before pushing her down again. She coughed, landing painfully in a crouch. She drew her wand, only to have him kick it out of her hand.
Malfoy smiled. "It seems like every time we meet you wind up on your knees in front of me," he drawled.
She loosed a barrage of insults that would have made her mother furious, questioning everything from his sexuality to his heritage to his mother's occupation. When she was finished, he laughed long and hard, a genuine laugh, one that she suspected others didn't often hear. He put his face in the hand that was holding his wand—so amused, perhaps, that he forgot he was threatening her. Taking advantage of the situation, she attempted to reach for her wand, which had rolled under one of the seats.
"I wouldn't do that," he warned, still laughing softly. His wand was pointed at her again. "Merlin, but you've got a mouth on you. Where did you learn to speak like that? And for your information, I'm definitely not gay." He said the last bit while holding eye contact with her.
Rage flamed in Ginny's chest. "You're disgusting."
Malfoy laughed, this one loud and for show. "I thought we already established that, dear. Now get out of my compartment. I'm done with you."
Ginny made to collect her wand, but he summoned it before she could reach it. Twirling it between his fingers, he shook his head and made a tsk noise. "I don't think you've earned the right to have this. You can get it from me when you're feeling more cooperative."
Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Malfoy cut her off. "Oh, and twenty points from Gryffindor. For slapping me. Completely uncalled for, that. I am Head Boy, you know."
"Fuck you," she muttered, pushing past him. In the small space, she couldn't help but notice how he smelled like sandalwood. He took five more points for profanity.