4: A Little Drop Of Poison

A small smile seemed permanently etched to her mouth, as Ginevra listened to the two Slytherin's raillery. They were so different, Draco's cool and slightly irritated repartee contrasted with Blaise's juvenile retorts, yet somehow they meshed. As Ginevra observed their conversation, she could not go so far to say that they were both being completely open, of course not, but they were not so guarded. She was glad they felt they could be this way around her, but she didn't know why they were being so nice.

Smiling feels so wrong to me. My mouth feels like it has been distorted and pulled into a shape it isn't supposed to be in. When did this happen to me? When was the last time I smiled voluntarily? When I smile it is usually to appease someone else. To give the appearance that everything is okay. To lie. To shield myself. They are much smarter than I am. Show no emotion at all. I want to do that, but it is too late for me. Too late. I am a pathetic, emotional, useless piece of trash. I don't deserve to be happy.

"Ginevra? I know you like Draco more than me, but please try to intervene when he starts calling me names."

Shaking herself out of her woolgathering, she looked at Blaise shyly, "I don't like Draco more than you. Stop saying that Blaise."

"She's lying." Draco said from behind Ginevra's back.

"Draco, that's mean."

"Everyone likes me better than Blaise."

"Well, I don't."

"Sure." His cool remark was obviously disbelieving.

"I like you both the same." Ginevra tried to explain diplomatically.

Thankfully, they had arrived at the portrait of fruit. Draco's body language was impassive as he reached up to tickle the pear. Quickly they slipped into the kitchen, Blaise still muttering under his breath about the manhandling of his perfect physique.

As the elves swarmed about, Draco waved them away. "What do you want to eat, Ginevra?" His manners were gentlemanly, even when addressing the offspring of his familys' most hated rivals.

She looked about, still overwhelmed. She had never thought she would be having dinner with these two men, let alone talking to them.

"Ginevra," Blaise spoke gently, "Draco and I were just gadding about. Just chose something to eat."

"I don't gad about."

"Fine Draco," Blaise sighed, "I was gadding about."

She spoke in a muted tone, still tentative, "I'm nn… nnn… not very hungry."

They exchanged glances over her head. "Please, eat."

"I'll have some pumpkin soup, if there is any."

Draco looked at her, his face unreadable, "Dobby. Bring Miss Weasley some pumpkin soup and the usual for both Master Blaise and myself."

A muffled look of chagrin shadowed Ginevra's face as she listened. Observing it, Draco smirked and added to the order for her benefit, "Please."

She couldn't help but smile again, "Thank you."

As the happy bustle and chaos of the kitchen continued, Ginevra could feel herself shifting her weight nervously from side to side.

"Did your mother teach you how to speak French? Your enunciation is exquisite." Blaise mentioned casually.

Time stopped.

Ginevra could feel her breaths halt.

All the noise had gone, leaving a dull ringing in her ears.

Draco almost snapped. That look. She looked terrified to the point of collapsing. Like Mum. His fists clamped together tightly. Blaise observed the two carefully, gauging exactly what he could say, "I apologize, it was rude of me to pry."

A small procession of house elves deposited steaming platters of food and a small bowl of soup on the table where the trio had situated themselves. Ginevra realized belatedly it was the Slytherin House table.

"Here is the food young Masters and Miss Weasley." Dobby squeaked happily.

She smiled faintly as thanks. Draco noted the difference in smiles. This one looked tight, controlled, fake. This girl was going to kill him, So many familiar memories. Blaise looked at his lover, My Draco, so much pain. I wish I could take it all away from you, but please, control yourself around her. Draco looked especially murderous, not in any way discernable to a normal outsider; he would look like he was bordering between annoyance and vexation. For a Malfoy, a chalk white face, clenched jaw and fisted hands spoke volumes.

Suddenly Ginevra began to devour all the food set before them. It was the most unrestrained Blaise had ever seen her.

Fill the emptiness.

Draco's eyes narrowed slightly as he scrutinized the witch before him.

"Sorry, just had to do something." She said ashamedly into her bowl of soup. "I'm sorry, I…II…I don't know why I reacted that way."

Yes you do.

Blaise smiled, "You certainly know how to scoff food for a little Gryff."

She halted her frenzy to stare at him hurtfully, her eyes wide. "You don't think I'm fat do you?"

Blaise had a template answer when a girl asked him that question, something along the lines of, "If you get any fatter I don't know how I will get you through the door we came in by" but before he could open his mouth Draco interrupted.

"No, you are beautiful the way you are. Perfect." His words were kind and his tone was disinterested, however his eyes bore through her own, reassuring her of his sincerity. She grinned, looking adorably impish as she slurped up more soup. Blaise's eyes questioned Draco silently. Draco shook his head minutely, his gaze anchored on the tiny woman before him.

After the dinner had been completely obliterated, the three were in much better spirits. "I have to go back to my dorm." Ginevra said regretfully as they stepped out of the warmth of the kitchen into the hallway. "T… tt… thank you."

Draco nodded, his eyes a subdued grey. Blaise tugged a wayward cerise curl; "We will do this again tomorrow night, if you want."

Soft pink stained her porcelain cheeks, "Yes." Awkwardly she turned, with a little wave, towards the Gryffindor tower.

Blaise made as if to walk towards the dungeons, but a strong hand restrained him. "Wait Blaise. Just look." Draco repeated what his lover had said only an hour ago. "Just look."

Together they trailed her swiftly, following as she deviated from her path and headed to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.

Draco paused. Blaise looked to his lover, feeling on edge when he saw the grimness in Draco's eyes.

"What?"

"Listen."

"Listen for what?"

"You will know. Just listen."

Together they listened, Blaise with morbid curiosity and Draco with a steely anticipation.

There.

A splash.

A gargle.

Then heaving, as Ginevra purged herself of all the nourishment in her stomach.

"Sweet Merlin." Blaise whispered.

"I knew it."

"How?"

"My Mum, Blaise."

A hand wound itself around Draco's neck. Unyieldingly, Blaise used the leverage to crush his forehead against his lovers'.

"It wasn't your fault."

"I knew everything, yet I did nothing. I could have stopped her."

"We can stop her." Blaise whispered softly, tilting both their heads with his firm grip toward the bathroom.

"Why?" Draco asked emotionlessly.

"This is why we care, because we can help her the way no one else can."

Clear, grey depths filled with pain, regret and sadness no seventeen year old should have to understand.

"Yes."

::::::

It had been two nights since she had had dinner with Draco and Blaise. They did offer to meet her again the next night, but when time came around she had stayed in her room. The two Slytherin's searched for her in briefly, shrugging their shoulders and giving up.

"Laissez-la venir à nous." [Let her come to us] was Draco's only comment. Blaise agreed and they both left to their room after a moment of silence.

::::::

The third night, Ginevra slid out of her room quietly and headed towards Snape's office for her lesson. Something had been bothering her about the two Slytherins. Why would they bother to be nice to a non-entity like her? It made no sense.

So, she had hidden in her room the night she was supposed to meet them for dinner, as well as the next. Tonight would be no different. Ginevra remained alert for any flashes of blonde hair or viridescent eyes as she followed the corridors further and further down into Hogwarts' dungeons.

"Weasley."

She jumped. The voice was behind her.

"Weasley!"

She relaxed. The voice was feminine. Slowly she wheeled about and came face to face with Pansy Parkinson. The girl had become startlingly beautiful. While Ginevra was slender, Pansy had sensuous curves. Her luscious lips and fountain of sleek brown hair were attractive but it was Pansy's eyes which were a particularly startling shade of violet that intrigued most of the Hogwarts male populace.

"Yyyy… yy… yes?"

"Draco and Blaise were looking for you."

"Were they?"

"Yes."

They stared at each other awkwardly.

"Why?" Pansy probed.

"Why what?" Ginevra noted that Pansy's tone was not antagonistic, merely inquisitive and somewhat guarded.

"Why were they looking for you?"

"I ddd… don't know."

"I think you do."

"I don't."

Pansy's eyes glinted with contained mirth. "You aren't going to tell me anything."

"Nnn… nn… no." Ginevra's tiny smile reflected the female Slytherin's amusement.

Ginevra stared at the serpentine smile suspiciously, "What?"

Pansy's purple orbs were gleaming with curiosity. This girl was definitely interesting. She could see why Draco and Blaise were intrigued.

"Ginevra, I don't think you even know."

Ginevra kept her eyes down, how did Pansy Parkinson know my name?

"I don't."

"Didn't think so."

"Ttt…. Tt… tell me."

"Tell you what?" Is Pansy Parkinson teasing me?

"Tell me why."

"Why what?" Yes she is. Definitely.

"Why were ttt… t… they looking for me?"

"Wouldn't tell you even if I did know." Pansy smiled stiffly before she walked away into the darkness. "I like you Ginevra. If you visit them, invite me."

As the Slytherin disappeared, Ginevra continued to her journey, envying Pansy her dark beauty and confidence. Yet, she was startled by what the girl had said to her. Somehow the people Ginevra thought would reject her outright were the only people in the world who had any interest in her.

::::::

"Do you know why I've asked you to come for additional lessons, Miss Weasley?"

Ginevra shook her head, opting not to speak. She could sense that Snape was in a foul mood.

"It is because you are a particularly talented student. It is a pity such talent is wasted on a Gryffindor, however, I will not neglect my duties as your Professor." Snape's dark eyes glinted as he shot another question her way, "What do you know of the dark magic, Miss Weasley?"

"Dd… ddd… d…dd… dark magic, sir?" Ginevra felt herself stuttering more and more.

"Yes. The ancient magicks."

"Excuse me ss… sss… sir, does Professor Dumbledore kn… knnn… know this is what you are teaching mm… m… me?"

"No." Snape's voice was laced with chagrin.

"I don't know anytt… ttt… thing about dark mag… ggg… gic." She was horrified when she heard herself speak, she hadn't stuttered this much since she left home.

"Miss Weasley if you do not cease your interminable stuttering I shall take away house points. I'm sure you don't want that."

"Yes sir." Ginevra whispered.

Snape's dark eyes drilled into her own, "You know of dark magic, Miss Weasley. I know you do."

"No." She answered faintly.

An eyebrow raised and at that moment, she thought the Professor looked very much like Draco. "Where does your mind meander then, Miss Weasley? As you sit in class with a dopey vacant expression on your face?"

"I don't know…"

"Explorations into the depths of The Abyss perhaps?"

She stiffened. "I don't know what you mean, sir."

Snape hissed softly. "Don't you dare lie to me."

"Why?" Ginevra dared.

"Don't think I don't know what you are hiding, Miss Weasley."

Ginevra froze.

::::::

Snape watched as her eyes went blank. Her soul was gone from her body.

Ginevra released everything. All her anger, pain and rage was gone. She retreated to where she felt strong. Snape smirked as he watched her eyes shine dimly with fires of Tophet.

"Dark magic is ancient. The Unforgivables stem from it, but they are only the beginning to what one can do."

"Yes." Ginevra spoke softly within her mind.

"You have only skimmed the surface of this power. I shall teach you how to harness it and to go deeper." Professor Snape's demand echoed about her mind.

Ginevra was entranced with the echoing quality of his voice as her soul-self sat surrounded by fire.

"I knew you had enough anger. I knew you had enough power."

"Yes sir."

Ginevra gasped as her soul suddenly slammed back into her body. It was cold in the Potions classroom. Snape stood a few feet away from her. "Friday."

Ginevra nodded slowly. She clutched her bag, her hands shaking. "Professor Snape?"

"What?"

"Why did you really decide to teach me?"

He stood silently for a moment, "Very few are capable of this. Even fewer are worthy. I have always known you were both."

Just as Ginevra was about to exit the classroom, she heard him continue to speak.

"I also knew that you needed a place to be safe, Miss Weasley."

Without rotating she inclined her head, "Thank you."

::::::

I feel so trapped. Hemmed within the confines of my own weaknesses; vulnerability and stupidity. Caged within this fleshy prison. The weightlessness I feel in Gehenna is the only taste of freedom I have. It is always so beautiful. A place where I have the power, where I can decide to be angry, sad or happy. Instead of the perpetual subservience I must display for the world. So degrading. I have no pride, I am just a pathetic burden on the shoulders of society.

This self-pity was really getting out of hand. She knew it, but she couldn't help herself. Ginevra had borrowed a broom from the school; Madame Hooch had always had a soft spot for the quiet Gryffindor, and was swirling about the three hoops on the Quidditch field. The adrenaline rush from swirling about the drafts of wind was one of her few means of feeling an emotion other than pain. Heart stopping turns and dives were the most fun. Knowing that she could end her own life was empowering, albeit bordering on extreme foolishness. Her broom screeched to a stop. Where on earth did that thought come from?

As she sat there, hovering above the Quidditch hoops, Ginevra wondered where that sarcastic comment had come from. It was different, to think something that gave her some hope that perhaps her elimination from this world would be wrong.

::::::

"What is she doing?"

"She wants to die."

"I asked what she was doing, not if she wanted to die."

"I know." Piercing cyan eyes bore into jade, "I wasn't answering your question."

Loving hands warmed his cold cheeks. "Je t'aime Draco. N'oubliez pas jamais cela je t'aime." [I love you, Draco. Don't ever forget that I love you.]

"Je pas." [I won't.]

"She is a beautiful, intelligent and tortured woman, tellement comme votre mere." [So much like your mother.]

"Oui." [Yes.]

"Mais Ginevra n'est pas elle. Elle appartient à une famille de sang-traître. Elle est un Gryffindor. Peut-être nous ne devrions pas nous concerner par son bien-être plus long." [But Ginevra is not her. She belongs to a blood-traitor family. She is a Gryffindor. Perhaps we should not concern ourselves with her well-being any longer.]

"Perhaps. Yet, Blaise, we are still watching her. It is not like you to abandon something, nor be so pessimistic." A hint of humor was interlaced with Draco's normally unemotional tone.

"True. I am just worried about you." Blaise replied quietly, his fingers enjoying the familiar silkiness of Draco's hair.

"Don't worry about me."

"I will always worry about you."

"Maybe that is what Ginevra needs. Someone to worry about her."

"Everyone needs someone to care."

"Yes."

Silence followed. They both turned on their heels, moving away from main doors which had framed their perfect forms for the past few minutes. As they headed towards the Slytherin common room, Blaise had a thought flash briefly through his mind, what if she fell and neither he nor Draco would be there watching?

With that thought reverberating in his mind, he turned full circle and headed out to the Quidditch field, noting that Draco had read his mind and was following without protest.

::::::

"Ginevra."

"Yes?" She wondered temporarily if she had gotten in the way of a Quidditch practice, but on second thought remembered that there were very few people in the entire school who called her by her full name.

"You missed dinner with us, the other night."

A beautiful golden halo was rising in the air on her left and on her right, hair as black as night was ascending simultaneously into her line of vision.

"Why?" Blaise asked quietly as the trio stared out into the horizon. Ginevra could sense no animosity in his voice. Merely a detached curiosity that was strangely painful to hear.

"I'm scared of you."

"Both of us?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I don't know."

"You do." Draco spoke for the first time. A statement.

She didn't want to answer.

Instead she asked, "Have you ever felt so lonely that you would rather die than have to live through another moment in this universe?"

Silence permeated the cool air; a comfortable, pensive atmosphere. Perhaps it really was just her who thought such things. Maybe she was really, very truly, alone.

"Sometimes, but not as much as before."

Ginevra rotated her head towards Draco, a small glimmer of hope burbling up deep within her breast.

"Truly?"

Blaise smiled quietly to himself at her strange wording, he was beginning to find it an endearing trait.

"There were times when I would marvel at the fragility of my flesh, wondering if it was that way simply to mock me; to dare me to break it. That my very escape was so easily within my grasp and yet…" Draco trailed off, his habitually unaffected tone so deep she could scarcely hear him, "… I was always too weak and could not reach for it."

She felt moisture gathering the corners of her eyes, her tears blurring and twisting the world in a hot flood. A cool hand dabbed her eyes carefully. Looking up ashamedly, Ginevra was surprised to see icy eyes staring at her. Draco said nothing more and his hand dropped after, what felt to her, a microsecond. Yet, she knew that there was finally someone. Finally.

Blaises' chocolate tenor pierced the silence, "Come on and get us something to eat. Ginevra still owes us a meal."

Ginevra felt a genuine smile light her face, thankful for his jovial quips. Quietly contemplating his back, she knew that Blaise understood Draco and, now to an extent, herself. He was there to bring laughter and joy.

"Thank you."

Heartfelt gratitude and accepting quietude floated about as they descended lazily towards the green lawn.

Longest chapter so far.

IR! Ideas and Reviews!