"You're being awfully immature about this," he informed her.
Ginny seethed. "Immature? Immature!"
"Yes. Oh come on, Gin, you don't really love me…you don't even know what love is yet. You just want a boyfriend, and it's not worth risking your life over!"
Ginny glared at him—hard. She mustered up the most hateful, murderous glare she could—reminding herself of all of the bad things that have ever happened to her to add fuel to the fire. "I don't believe you. I can't believe you just said that."
"Isn't it the truth?"
"I'm in no more danger than Hermione or Ron!"
"Their older," he stated.
"ONE YEAR!" Ginny bellowed.
The Common Room fell silent. The few people that still resided in the corners stopped their work and idle chatter to watch the progressing brawl.
"Calm down," Harry hissed, glancing around them. "This is exactly what I'm talking about. I should have known you would blow up at me like this over nothing."
Nothing? NOTHING? Thousands upon thousands over words flew through Ginny's mind—every word in her vocabulary—and still she couldn't find one to say to the boy before her. She kept her lips pressed tight, repressing the screech of fury that longed to leave her throat. Shaking her head and holding back tears, she left without another sound quickly through the portrait hole.
It was 12:43.
---Just a break---In the story---Here's more---
The door slammed shut behind her. She stalked down to the lake, literally throwing herself against the trunk of the nearest tree.
She stared out at the water for a moment, before pulling her knees up to her chest and burying her face in her hands.
Alone by the lake that night, Ginny wept freely, sobbing for some moments before containing herself with deep breathing.
"Stupid…bloody…idiotic," Ginny sniffed, wiping a tear from her cheek furiously. "Moron…bloody Potter," she hissed. "Don't know what he bloody wants from me. Ugh!" Ginny, feeling her emotional pressure rising far too much above the allowed level, let out a cleansing scream. She screamed until she thought her throat might be raw for the next few days.
She wiped a few more tears and sighed, letting every emotion from her body. She had nearly succeeded when a large figure pranced to the ground next to her. Ginny threw herself away instinctively; the back of her head collided with the unforgiving tree. "Ow!" she rubbed her head. Upon focusing her eyes, she quickly recognized the shape sitting next to her.
"What are you doing out here?"
"I'd ask the same of you, but it was pretty obvious, I think."
"Enjoy the show then?" Ginny spit out bitterly.
Malfoy put a hand to his ear. "What?"
The unexpected humor, even though from him, was enough to make Ginny smile.
"Potter giving you a hard time then?"
Ginny frowned at him. "I don't see how it's any of your business."
"Oh come on, now. It's me—who better than to rant about Potter to? I promise I'll make you feel better," he gave her a charming smile. Ginny sighed.
"You really need a life. I hate Harry," she continued.
"I concur."
"A lot."
"Again, with the concurrence."
"I mean a lot a lot. Like, he really blew it."
"It's Potter; did you expect him not to?"
Ginny looked at the boy next to her, giving a small smile. His comments actually helped her.
"What's he done, then? Break up with you did he? Catch him with another girl?"
"He thinks I'm immature. He thinks that I only want a boyfriend; that I don't actually care about him."
"Well its true isn't it? I mean you do hate him…"
"Now…but…he doesn't think I can take care of myself. Ron and Hermione are only a year older than me—he doesn't want to put me in danger," Ginny expressed the last statement mimicking Harry's deep voice.
"What a load!"
"I know!" Ginny looked at him, nodding fervently. "I know, isn't it!"
"I mean you're all going to die anyways, so it's really no reason to break off a relationship for!"
"I know! I mean how--…what?"
Malfoy looked at her. "What?"
"'We're all going to die'?"
"Chances…" he trailed off. Ginny shivered.
They sat in silence for the longest time, neither of them really wanting to make an effort to speak.
"So what were you doing out here?"
"Same thing I do every night."
"What's that?"
"Sit in trees and wait for pretty redheads to come out, cause me to go deaf, and then allow them to rant to me."
"Really," Ginny brushed off the silly comment.
"Really? I sit in this tree," he looked up, pointing, "right there. And I sit and…I think."
"You think?"
"Sure do."
Ginny chuckled. "About what?"
"You name it, I've thought about it."
"The war?"
"Thought about it."
"Turning your back on your family and Voldemort?"
"…" he hesitated. "Thought about it," he answered after a moment.
"Snape in a Speedo doing the Macarena?"
He cringed. "Okay, you got me on that one."
"How about me?"
He looked at her; at her wide, brown eyes, glinting in the moonlight, at every freckle that graced her cheeks and petite nose, at the small, expecting, flirtatious smile that was dancing across her mouth.
He sighed, looking over to the lake. "Only tonight, I'm afraid."
"Yeah right. You've thought about me more than that. You think about me all the time, don't you?"
"Oh, all the time," he admitted sarcastically, a smile taking capture of his lips.
"You should do that more," Ginny informed him softly.
He quirked an eyebrow. "Think about you?"
Ginny shook her head slightly. "Smile."
"Think so, do you?" He asked her opinion.
"All the time."
---Not just a break---The story is done---Here are my announcements---
That's it. Done. Finite. No more. EVER. Review and lemme know, will ya?