A/N: Yes, it's been a long time. Not as long as In Nomine Amoris, though. Enjoy the tension!
Note that the breaks aren't working.
o O o O o
Chapter Six: Hatred
"Why couldn't we have used a classroom?" Ginny wanted to know. She was shivering to the bone, even through her robes. Malfoy was in the process of preparing the cauldron.
"Oh, come off it, Weasley," Malfoy told her, lighting a fire with his wand and placing the pewter cauldron over it. "It's not as if you and your boyfriend are picking a place to snog. And I don't know if anyone's told you, but cold places are optimal for potion-brewing. That's why we use the dungeons in this castle."
"Oh," was Ginny's dumb reply. Malfoy had thrown her with that 'snog' comment.
"While you're just standing there, you can start chopping the daisy roots," Malfoy instructed her, gesturing toward the ingredients on the table standing between them.
"Fine," Ginny huffed, grabbing a knife and beginning to perform the task carelessly.
"Make them even," Malfoy murmured, not even looking up from what he was doing. Ginny looked down at her work and saw in her haste that the roots were indeed uneven. Merlin, it was like he was psychic.
Ginny did as she was told, sucking in a deep breath to stop herself from retorting. I have to continue Potions, she reminded herself. Healing…healing…
"What are we brewing, anyway?" Ginny asked after a while, when she was almost done with the daisy roots. He should've told her before now. He was supposed to be her tutor, wasn't he?
"A Shrinking Solution," Malfoy replied right as the water in the cauldron started to boil.
"A Shrinking Solution?" Ginny echoed incredulously. "But that's third year standard! I'm above that!"
"Part of the reason third years learn to brew it is that it requires the precise following of instructions. Otherwise," he smirked, "it could blow up in your face."
Ginny glared at him, knowing, without any doubt, that he'd hurt her ego intentionally. She said nothing; it would give him way too much satisfaction if she did.
There was hardly anymore talking after that, due to Ginny's raw determination and Malfoy's blatant disinterest. If there was one thing that could be said was difference between Ginny and her brother Ron, it was that Ginny had a far better control over her temper.
Currently, Ginny was stirring the solution in the way Malfoy had read from the book. She was frustrated. He wasn't really teaching her anything she didn't know already.
She beat the potion a bit more forcefully as she remembered Malfoy's snide remark. What was he playing at anyway?
All right, never mind that. He was Malfoy, after all, and that alone explained everything. Any chance to point out a fault, and there he was with his little, sneering expression…
Maybe she'd talk to Slughorn again. That mangy drunkard…he'd probably been on a buzz when he paired her off with Malfoy. The potion slopped against the sides of the cauldron, gaining Malfoy's attention.
"No, no, no," Malfoy corrected her. "You've got to stir with more of a fluid movement. What you're doing is too harsh and might disturb the magical elements within the potion."
"You do it, then," Ginny snapped, fed up with his snotty criticism.
"Then what would be the point of this? I'm trying to teach you—"
"You don't seem to have the patience to teach me," Ginny cut him off.
"I wouldn't point any fingers, Weasley," Malfoy drawled. "After all, it's your lack of patience for the art of potion-making that got you here in the first place."
"Why, you—!"
"You can't argue, because it's true. We wouldn't be here if you'd just listened to me when I told you to dry your scarab beetles."
"We wouldn't be here if you hadn't provoked me!"
"I wasn't provoking you—"
"Anything you can possibly say would provoke me."
"I should just shut up, then? And then you can explain to Slughorn why you've not improved in a few weeks, hmmm?"
Ginny shrieked exasperatedly. She had finally lost her temper.
o O o O o
The little Weasley had apparently had enough. Draco guessed he'd pulled one too many strings with the scarab beetles comment. But if she wasn't going to take this seriously, maybe she wasn't cut out for N.E.W.T. Potions.
Voicing this, he quickly decided, would only be his undoing.
Meanwhile, his tutee was fuming. It seemed her livid insides were boiling in sync with the cauldron.
"I really can't believe you! I'm trying to concentrate, but that's quite difficult to do with you breathing down my neck, just itching to point out any wrong moves I make!"
"Fine," said Draco, crossing over to the table of ingredients. "I'll be over here."
"That's right, you scumbag," he heard her mutter under her breath.
"What was that?" Draco asked sharply.
"Well…you heard me," Ginny said, tossing her ponytail behind her shoulder. "I can't stand this much longer!"
"Oh, that's a surprise," Draco quipped sarcastically, "because I'm having a right picnic over here…"
"I swear I could kill you here and now…no witnesses…" It was really amazing how much she and Pansy were alike in a homicidal respect.
"I'm actually trying to be civil to you, in case you've not noticed," Draco told her, nearly shaking with frustration. "Why can't you be civil to me?"
"You forget you've done nothing to earn my respect," said Ginny, with a sneer worthy of a Slytherin.
"It's not like you've done anything to deserve mine, either," Draco said defensively.
"The respect of Slytherin," Ginny pretended to muse. "Now, why ever"—here her false demeanor was replaced by a harsh, incessant tone—"would I want that?"
"And the respect of a Gryffindor is so glorious, is it?" Draco spat, his own manner slipping back to his spoiled way of thinking. "What do Gryffindors have to their name but a rash temper and a blatant disregard for the rules?"
"Well, Slytherins aren't what one would call saintly, are they? Plus, Gryffindors have got more feeling than Slytherins. At least Gryffindors aren't heartless!"
"Without a heart, am I?"
"Yes, you miserable, spoiled little son of a—"
Draco cut her off. "You have no IDEA who I am!"
"I know WHAT you are, and that's good enough."
"And what am I?"
"A bloody Malfoy, of course! You walk around the school as if you owned the place—an incarnation of Salazar himself."
"Everyone knows that Weasleys are scum, and a blood-betraying lot who don't know when to keep their wands out of other people's faces."
"All you're doing is pointing out the main reasons our families hate each other."
"But that's the root of it all, isn't it? Family rivalry."
"There's a hell of a lot more to it than that, Malfoy."
"Care to expound?"
"Do I really have to? I'm positive you know what I'm talking about."
"No, really—enlighten me," he implored coolly of her.
"You committed a treachery only dreamed of by any of You-Know-Who's supporters. You allowed Death Eaters—nay, beckoned them—into the castle. While they attacked the castle's inhabitants, you and your buddy Snape killed the greatest, most intelligent wizard who ever walked these grounds—"
"Don't speak of things you don't understand!" Draco ordered her, a bit hot in the face. He hated thinking about Snape; why did she have to bring this all up? Of course, no one but him knew about the Potions Master's death.
"I understand everything perfectly!"
"You never thought that maybe, for one second, I had no choice. But I tried to explain that to you on the train. You wouldn't listen to me!"
"Yes, because I know you're conducting some evil plot here, and I'm going to find out what—"
"My God, it's just so impossible that I came back without orders from the Dark Lord, is it? That I came to Hogwarts, fleeing the very people I was becoming one of? Even though I knew everyone in this place, faculty and students alike, would hate me, shun me, and fight me when I returned? You don't KNOW what I've been through, why I'm here, where exactly I've come from, or WHY I'M EVEN STAYING IN THIS DAMNED CASTLE!"
Draco broke off, breathing heavily. He'd been holding all that tension inside himself for two months, and it had finally come out.
Ginny was, as it appeared, speechless. She merely gaped at him, a look in her eyes with a mix of wonder and…something else. Sympathy? No, a Weasley would not be so kind.
"I—look, Weasley: I'm not asking for you to believe me," said Draco, after he had calmed down. "Just tolerate me, and I'll do you the same. I'm not sure Slughorn's giving you a choice."
She didn't voice a reply, but her eyes remained wide with shock at his previous, unexpected outburst.
He turned from her, not quite knowing what to do with himself. What more could he say, anyway?
Within a few seconds, he heard her sneakers trod across the room, away from him. He twisted around to only see a mass of auburn hair disappear behind the wooden door to the dungeon. She was gone.