Chapter Three, Twisted

Ginny Weasley stared up at the canopy of her bed. Her arms were crossed over her chest and her fingers mindlessly drew figures over her ribcage. On the other side of the room, Lizzy McDonalds and Nina Ballot slept soundly. Their breathing was even and loud into the otherwise silent room.

Hermione Granger still refused to speak to her and she had started to feel worse when Lavender Brown and Ron Weasley returned to the Common room; holding hands. Apparently, with Hermione goody-two-shoes-Granger falling out of favour, Ron thought he had permission to start dating the biggest gossip of Hogwarts.

She rolled over onto her stomach, hoping to stop her active mind. It wasn't working. The problem she'd labelled as Hermione Granger dissipated, only to push the more prominent problem forward. Someone had drugged them. Someone had indirectly drugged her, and Ginny Weasley wouldn't stand for it.

She would find the idiot responsible and she would hex him or her into next week. It would be admittedly much easier if she had Hermione Granger to help her with that task. The little bookworm knew how to do her research and she might find something. Unlike Ginny, Hermione knew how, and more importantly where, to look. She could ask one of her brothers or perhaps even Harry Potter for help as well, but she was sure they would want to know why she wanted to help the Slytherins. She doubted they would believe she would do it for Hermione as Ginny normally stayed clear from Hermione's problems. But Hermione wouldn't help her. Not without Ginny admitting she had slept with Blaise Zabini under the potion's effect. She wasn't sure if she wanted to tell that secret to anyone, much less to Hermione Granger.

Ginny squeezed her eyes closed and inhaled softly again. She was no closer to sleep, so early in the morning than she was in the middle of the night. Wringing her hands agitated, she slowly got up from her bed and dressed into her school robes.

The common room was blissfully unoccupied. The embers in the fireplace were still glowing, casting a soft dull light through the room and cast shadows over the furniture. Flicking the oil-lamp on, she sat down on a sofa.

"Ginny?" Hermione's voice asked softly.

She jumped, her muscles locking together and her hands growing clammy. Ginny wrung the tablecloth between her hands, before helplessly glancing at Hermione. "Hello Hermione,"

Her eyes were hostile, but expression was more curious. Ginny wondered what would win out, curiosity our hostility.

"What are you doing here?"

Curiosity it is.

"I— I couldn't sleep," she admitted softly.

"I see,"

"I'm really sorry, you know!" Ginny said, after a moment of silence. "I know you think I betrayed you, but I just didn't know what to do. You were all over him and I didn't know how you would react if I tried to magic you two apart."

Hermione nibbled at her lower lip, before sighing. "I see—" she simplified, biting on the tip of her tongue and seemed to ponder how to reply.

"Are you going to forgive me?" Ginny asked.

"Yes, Ginny I will forgive you," Hermione answered with somewhat of a grimace on her face. "I just— I feel a bit lost."

"Would you feel better if I told you that I get it?" Ginny asked softly, feeling her cheeks heat up.

Hermione let out a humorous laugh. "How could you ever get it?" she asked.

"Because I went through the same, only with someone else and I certainly didn't drink as much as you and Malfoy did, because the Potions were not that potent in the morning anymore," Ginny muttered, falling over her own words.

Hermione stiffened, before looking directly at the other girl. "What?"

"You know how I always leave my homework till the last moment?" Ginny asked, nervously fiddling with the hem of her skirt. Hermione nodded, her eyes wide and her lips open. "Well, there wasn't any reason for celebration and I wasn't in the mood to deal with any more gloominess, so I decided to start on Potions. B— Blaise Zabini found me there. He had grabbed one of the bottles and from one thing came the other so to say."

Hermione bit her lip again; her teeth pressing against the flesh hard enough to turn it white. "Please say something, Hermione." Ginny pleaded.

Hermione shook her head. The wrinkles in her brow smoothed out some, and she slowly stood up. She didn't invade her personal space, Hermione was skittish when it came to such familiarity and sat down in front of her.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what to say," she admitted slowly. "I didn't know."

"Obviously," Ginny answered, digging her nails into her palms. "I haven't told anyone."

"I can guess why," Hermione admitted, she opened her mouth again, but then someone stomped down the stairs, or the remaining of stairs, so loudly both girls jumped. Ron Weasley stomped into the common room. His face was flushed scarlet and his nostrils were widened.

"You shagged Zabini?" he snarled, stepping well into her personal space. "Zabini?" he asked again and Ginny felt her eyebrow spasm.

"Go away Ronald, it's none of your business." Ginny hissed, glaring at her older brother

Ron's face turned even redder, reminding a swollen tomato and Ginny exhaled loudly. "Listen, I'm fifteen, not a child you have to look after." she started slowly, "And you should respect my wishes when I ask you not to get involved."

"Does mum know?" Ron asked nastily and Ginny swallowed.

"No," she whispered.

Ron seemed to be at a loss for words. His mouth opened and closed, but he seemed incapable of forming actual words. Ginny dug her nails into her lower arms and waited for him to say something. To hiss insults at her at how she should be ashamed or how could she be this stupid. Ginny half expected the comment about how no female specimen could see herself safe in Zabini's presence, but perhaps she gave his vocabulary too much credit.

"I'm disgusted, Ginny." he hissed, seemingly having the reigns of his control back.

Ron turned around kicking aggressively at the leg of a chair, before groaning in pain. He glared at her over his shoulder and Ginny felt her breath hitch. He was wearing the same look as when he broke her favourite Quidditch figurine when she was seven and he was eight. It was a look that never bode well. Ginny pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. There wasn't much he could do. Not really…

"Ronald, you should stop dictating other people's life," Hermione told him matter-of-factly. "Quite frankly this has nothing to do with you."

"Nothing to do with me?" he asked, his voice shrill, "This is my sister!"

"Who can handle herself,"

Ron smiled and Ginny swallowed. "We'll see about that," he whispered, before returning to his dormitory. They waited until his footsteps faded completely, before continuing their conversation. Hermione agreed with her; they should figure out who initiated the attack. They sure as hell were not going to be the laughing stock of the whole school.

Two days later and neither Ron nor Harry had made any effort to speak to her. From Harry, she had suspected it. After all, to him, she was only his best friend's kid sister. Ron, however, averted his gaze whenever she tried to approach him. He was planning something, but Ginny didn't know what it possibly was. There wasn't really that much space to worry about it either. Ron barely spoke a word to anyone, as he always had his tongue down Lavender's throat these days. That in itself wouldn't bother her so much if they didn't constantly shove their 'love' under everyone's nose. It made several students uneasy, but it made Ginny sick.

The news that she was involved had spread through the castle. Micheal had not been able to handle the news well and their relationship, or whatever it was what they had been involved in, was over. Ginny wasn't as upset as she could have been. If she was honest, the idea to touch a boy now revolted her.

"Hey Red,"

Ginny wanted to groan. Couldn't a girl just spend her time in peace? Ginny wrung her hands together and sighed. Most of the Slytherins avoided the Great Hall during the bustle of dinner and most of them waited till most of the other students had already left. Ginny understood the feeling. Being ridiculed was one thing, but being the butt out of every sex joke wherever you went, became tiring.

"What is it you want, Zabini?" she asked tiredly, thinking about the amount of homework she still had to complete.

"To talk," he dead-panned as if that was the most obvious thing.

Someone whistled loudly, and Ginny groaned.

"Ah," Seventh year Hufflepuff loudly announced, and Ginny actually gave a longing glance towards the direction library. "A rendezvous? In the middle of the Hall? How lovely," he said smirking cruelly, "Need another taste do you?"

Ginny felt her cheeks heat up and took a threatening step towards the much taller boy, He merely lifted an eyebrow. "I must say, Weasley, I didn't think you would go with it willingly."

"Go to hell," she hissed back.

She turned around, about leaving the corridor, but Zabini interrupted her fleeing path. "Oh no, I don't think so he whispered, before lifting a dark eyebrow in mock question.

Ginny had been on the receiving end of insults he and Malfoy threw. She knew how easy they found your buttons to push and pushed them they did, quite excellently actually. So when he shot the older boy a lazy, superior smirk, she felt almost sorry for him.

Almost being the keyword.

"Well, perhaps you should look for that one person who got the Love Potion," Zabini answered dryly, and Ginny raised an eyebrow. She'd expected better from him. "Yes, I'm pretty sure that would be the only way you could get anyone to touch you."

Ginny bit her lip to refrain from laughing. Zabini made a point to look the other boy up and down. "I definitely doubt any sane girl would get near you unless you pay them a fortune and seeing you don't have that kind of money, you have to resort to potions." he continued, needling the other boy with a vicious smile.

Hufflepuffs were not known for the quick comebacks. Raking a hand through his sandy hair, the boy opened and closed his mouth a few times. Ginny involuntarily thought he looked like a goldfish.

"I'm a Prefect," the boy snapped, his eyes glinting as if that knowledge would protect him against the venom Zabini sprouted and was about to sprout.

"And I know the Head boy personally, really, do I need to be impressed?" Zabini drawled lazily. "Come on Weasley, we need to discuss a few vital elements of our arrangement. I certainly don't need to catch anything that makes you that stupid."

"I— what?" she stammered, slight embarrassment surging through her veins. "Vital elements to our arrangement?"

"Oh, I'm sorry should I have said something else?"

"You're a jerk!" Ginny said, crossing her arms over her chest. His eyebrows rose to an amused height and she gave an exasperated sigh. "What did you want to with me?"

She could practically hear his amusement dripping from his voice when he spoke again after some painfully prolonged seconds. "I know you spoke with Pansy…"

"Yes," she admitted. "I've kept my ears open, as she so theatrically said, but I've got nothing."

"Nothing," he repeated.

Ginny pursed her lips following him through the corridors as he led her to an abandoned classroom. She had to run to match his quick steps. His legs were a lot longer and he seemed to have an unfair advantage. Zabini slowed down his steps somewhat and let out a frustrated groan. She perched down upon the edge of one of the tables. He was silent for a moment and Ginny glanced at him through the corners of her eyes. He was good looking, she certainly couldn't deny that. His face was chiselled and his lips were full. But instead of masculine, he was rather beautiful…

Ginny wanted to laugh. The irony was not lost on her.

"Draco made a list," Zabini explained.

"A list?"

"Hm," he retorted, offering her a piece of parchment with a very neat handwriting. Ginny frowned, her eyes flitting over the names.

All Gryffindors, all people she knew.

"Bigoted inbred good-for-nothing wanker!" she cried. "Those are my brothers you included!"

She knew it was unreasonable. But after being on edge for so long it felt so good to throw it all out. It felt so good…

"Yes, we damn well included your sodding brothers." he returned menacingly. "Because quite frankly I don't trust them as far as I can throw them."

"You want to discuss trust, Zabini?" she asked coldly.

"Oh," he hissed, his face dangerously close to hers. "And you think you're perfect, do you?" he asked coldly. "Well, let me help you out of that fantasy. You are hot-headed, self-righteous twit."

"Oh no, how am I going to live, after hearing you say that?" she retorted sarcastically.

He smirked meanly. "I wasn't finished, love," he whispered, before pushing her chin up with his index finger. "You yourself are a superficial bigot. You don't know me, not really and yet here you are pretending you know who I am and why I am that way. You and your family decided, like so many others, that we Slytherins are rotten. That all of us are, well, bigoted pure-blood fascists, while you don't even try to get to know us to verify the fact."

Her cheeks turned red and she poked her index finger in his chest. "I'm not the one calling Muggle-borns Mudbloods because I have a superiority complex."

His smirk became even broader. "No, you lot go around and drug a complete house because you lost at a Quidditch game."

She gasped. "No one from Gryffindor did this." she hissed. "Who says not one of your snakes had a bone to pick with Malfoy?"

"And risk the wrath of Lucius Malfoy?" Zabini asked icily. "No one in my House would. It might not have crossed your mind, but the only ones who were spared from that little drug fest, were either the children who are not allowed to drink—" at her raised eyebrow Zabini snorted, "We do not give the eleven-year-olds or any student under the age of fourteen booze you know? But either way, the children were spared, the students who stuck to Butterbeer and the ones in the Hospital wing, which leaves seven students who all had nothing against Malfoy. There goes your lovely theory, darling, right out of the window."

"Oh really?" Ginny asked, crossing her arms over chest, hating herself for agreeing with him. Even only a little "And how was a Gryffindor supposed to get into your little snake pit?"

Zabini opened his mouth and closed it again before a smile quirked at his lips. "That doesn't make it impossible sweetheart, that only narrows it down."

"I know of Potter's invisibility cloak, darling, and you just helped me realise the missing pieces into this puzzle," he muttered, before pointing at the list. "Do add Potter," at the disbelieving expression on her face, he shrugged. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think Potter is the one who did it, but he might be privy to the information who is…"

Ginny jaw slacked. She hadn't thought about Harry's invisibility cloak. Frowning she clenched and unclenched her fingers. Harry had been awfully silent about what had happened. He didn't try to figure out who had drugged his best friend, which she realised was odd. So was stabbing someone in his back and she just couldn't see Harry do it. Then again, Harry hadn't been much like himself, had he? Ever since Cedric died, the-boy-who-lived had been unable to deal with his problems adequately. He had adapted to survive and his will to live had saved him, time after time already, but to what price? Even Ginny, especially Ginny, could understand what an impact quilt could have, and how much you needed to, how much resolve you needed, to throw the quilt off. There was nothing worse that being responsible, and Harry wasn't really responsible, not the way Ginny had been with the attacks, for someone's injury.

Biting her lip, she glanced back at the Italian boy and noticed his eyes spark with resolve. He knew he had her, and he knew how much he violated her believed and ideas just by rubbing the truth under her nose. She hated herself for believing him. She hated herself for seeing the truth in his words. She hated how the one who had drugged them had probably done so int the name of righteousness and that was the same reason she would have been ready to burn down the world for.

"Miss Weasley?"

Ginny spun around, her face registering shock and her shoulders stiffening when she noticed Professor McGonagall and her father. Arthur Weasley was pale, and it was only the comforting hand of Hufflepuff head of House Professor Sprout that kept him from leaping to the dark-skinned boy — who looked a lot less smug in the face of her father's anger.

"I—" Ginny started, realising with a stab of horror that Ron had told her parents. Her mouth went dry and her face pale. "Dad?"

Professor McGonagall stepped further into the room, blocking her father's path — would he loose all grip of his anger — and stared through the room in disapproval. Her complexion was far more pale than usual and Ginny wondered how long it had taken them to find her.

"Could you spare us a moment?" she asked through clenched jaws.

Ginny blanched and nodded her head of House, before shooting a warning glance at the tall Slytherin. He just nodded politely.

"See you later, Weasley." he stated, backing further away into the room.

Her father sniffed disdainfully, but even he couldn't do anything with so many people who could intercept him. McGonagall glanced at the young girl with a frown, but Ginny knew she wasn't prejudiced against Slytherins — only when Quidditch was involved — but Ginny couldn't bear having her name dragged through the mud again. And her parents visiting the school because she lost her virginity while being intoxicated, that would definitely fuel the rumour mill again.

McGonagall led them to her office on the second floor. Her mother was there; her muscles tense and her face tight with displeasure. Ginny noticed her mother's hands shaking at her sides and she swallowed.

The door slammed shut behind them and Molly Weasley gave Ginny a pointed look, before rushing towards her and developing her in a bone-crushing hug. "My poor girl," she whispered softly and Ginny involuntarily felt tears start in her eyes.

"Molly,"

"Yes," Molly Weasley reluctantly answered the unspoken demand and let her daughter go. Ginny knew now what Ronald had been planning. Telling her parents was as effective as any and as watched her mother take a seat in front of McGonagall's desk; tears gleaming in her eyes, but the determination in the wrinkles on her forehead told her how she refused to let them fall. Molly rubbed her eyes before combing both hands inelegantly through her hair. The red locks puffing up around her face in the heat of the motion.

"How has this happened?" Molly demanded, "How could this ever happen?"

"We don't know yet, Severus has figured out the brand and who brew it—"

"Wait, he did?" Ginny interrupted. "They know who did it?"

"Not exactly," McGonagall answered, giving Ginny a pointed look for interrupting her and glanced back at her parents. "Our Head boy requested an extra-credit project to go above and beyond what was expected in his classes. And I believe he needed a better mark for potions—"

"And so Snape decided he needed to brew a Love potion?" Arthur Weasley demanded.

"No, it's from the extra-credit protocol Horace Slughorn invented."

"And he hasn't given it to anyone." Arthur asked, "Who is the Head boy?"

"Seventh year Ravenclaw Roger Davies," McGonagall explained. "He had no reason to drug anyone, but he has been punished for being negligent."

"For being negligent?" Molly shrieked and Ginny clenched her hands. "He should have been expelled. Obviously, he was more than a bit negligent."

"Molly, please!" Arthur exclaimed. "Our daughter—"

"My child," Molly whispered softly, glancing at Ginny with teary eyes. "I'm taking her home," she announced resolutely.

"What?" Ginny gasped and McGonagall looked alarmed as Molly got to her feet.

"You heard me, Minerva," Molly repeated, "I'm taking my daughter home."

To be continued…


A/N: I never really understood why everyone saw Ginny and Hermione as best friends. I always thought they were friends, and they would give each other advice when Hermione stayed over, but never did they seem as best friends. I always thought Ginny hung around with Luna Lovegood instead.

And we've got trouble in paradise. Molly Weasley has always been very protective over her only daughter, and I'm not going to change that. Ron is not going to like what is coming to him…

Just a heads up, I don't hate Ron, I really don't. But if we're being fair he is not known for being subtle. Nor is he known for being capable to keep the rains on his temper.

Anyway, let me know what you all think; I love reviews.

Harry Potter does not belong to me, but to J.K. Rowling