Gryffindor Tower was still standing – thank goodness for small mercies – but the students seemed more subdued than usual, looking at Ginny with worried eyes as she made her rounds. She gave a few orders to make beds and tidy up, trying to maintain a sense of normalcy. There was a fight over a rare chocolate frog card to mediate, a homesick first-year to comfort, and a few boys complained when Ginny told them to get on with Defence homework. "Lessons will be cancelled anyway, surely, Professor!"
"Lessons will not be cancelled," Ginny told them firmly, and pinned a note to the same effect to the bulletin board, too. In truth, she had no idea what would happen by tonight, never mind the next day, but the children needed their routine and she was going to keep it up until the headmistress decided otherwise.
In the common room, the giggly group of seventh-year girls who annoyed Ginny so were sitting together, whispering among themselves. Ginny felt weary, but some of the girls looked like they'd been crying, so she went over. "What's the matter, Dagmar? Athena?"
Dagmar drew a shuddering breath. "Are the Slytherins any better, Professor?" she asked, nervously twisting the ends of the purple ribbons that she'd twisted through her dark ringlets.
"No, I'm afraid not," Ginny said.
The quartet glanced at each other and, as one, burst into tears. "S-sorry, P-professor." The second girl, Athena, who had no business being named after the goddess of wisdom in Ginny's opinion, sniffled her way through an explanation. "It's just that Thusnelda's parents have a timeshare in Mexico. We were all going to Portkey over after we're done with our NEWTs."
"It's the last time it's ever going to be like this," a third girl, Phoebe, said tearfully. "All of us friends together."
Ginny didn't know exactly what a timeshare was, but she understood that the loss was felt keenly. She hadn't had any patience for teenage drama when she'd been a girl, and she had even less now, but vacation aside, the girls' concern for their friend was real. Ginny felt guilty that she'd wished Thusnelda Brown, the gossipy Slytherin, into the hospital wing, only to find out that the girl really was sick like her housemates.
"Thusnelda is going to be fine. All of them are," she told the students even though she had no idea if it was true. Considering the alternative was just too depressing. Suddenly, she felt all of the girls' grief. "You'll take your trip, don't worry." They nodded, but Ginny could tell that they didn't quite believe her.
They glanced at each other again in that silent way of communication that was a mystery to Ginny. "What about Professor Malfoy?" Dagmar asked then. "Is he going to get sacked?"
"Not as long as I'm here," Ginny said without thinking, and that did it: the girls released a collective sigh and, as if a weight had been lifted, perked up. Ginny looked into their gleeful faces, wishing she could be that young and silly. "Why don't you go down to check on Thusnelda and the others? And send Johnny and his boys up, I'm sure Madam Pomfrey could use a bit of quiet while she works."
The girls went to powder their noses first, giggling quietly as they stole glances back at Ginny. At least she'd cheered them up, however unwittingly. She couldn't bring herself to be sorry for it; however she might feel about him or he might feel about her, Malfoy needed a friend, someone to back him up right now.
The girls weren't wrong to wonder about his future at Hogwarts; all the blame for what was happening rested on Malfoy at this point, and if Madam Pomfrey didn't figure out the mystery illness soon, his position would quickly become untenable. Ginny didn't know why the thought hadn't occurred to her before, but she was beginning to wonder if the attack on the students might not be personal, an easy way to get to Malfoy. Surely, his family still had enemies enough, not just among the people they'd hurt in one way or other, but also their former allies, whom they'd betrayed in the final hours of the war. Using the students as a means for revenge was atrocious, but that didn't mean someone wouldn't do it in cold blood. And if the children weren't safe, no one was; especially not Malfoy himself.
Realising that her thoughts had once again circled back to him, Ginny gave up on getting anything productive done and escaped to her office with every intention of having a half-hour rest in her comfortable armchair. However, when she entered, Professor McGonagall was standing by the window, looking out over the school grounds. Ginny braced herself for a remark about her lengthy absence, but none came. McGonagall just sighed and said, "I've always thought this was the best office in the castle. I miss the view. Do you like it here, Miss Weasley?"
Taken aback, Ginny said, "Um, yes. Of course."
The headmistress turned around, looking at Ginny over the rim of her spectacles. "I know you were not fully happy when you accepted the position here. And on days like this, I can't blame you."
"What did the parents say?" Ginny asked, gesturing for the headmistress to sit down in one of the visitors' chairs in front of Ginny's desk while she took the second one for herself. It felt wrong to sit behind her desk with McGonagall in front.
The older witch sat down heavily. She'd never struck Ginny as old, but now she looked small and almost a little frail, disappearing into the folds of her tartan robes. "What you would expect," McGonagall said. "That half of Slytherin falling ill on our watch is unacceptable, and that they want a full investigation by the board of governors. Two of them said they would have their children transferred to St Mungo's if there is no improvement by tomorrow. You know what a scandal that will be."
Perhaps the students would be better cared for at St Mungo's, but Ginny knew that Madam Pomfrey was extremely competent. If she was puzzled by the students' illness, the staff at St Mungo's wouldn't immediately find a cure either, and besides, the explanation to this mystery would be found at Hogwarts; Ginny was sure of it.
"Mrs Malfoy said she'd continue working tomorrow morning, the potions need to simmer," Ginny told the headmistress. She wished they could've had results sooner.
"Ah, yes, Mrs Malfoy." McGonagall tapped the end of her wand on Ginny's desk in agitation. "I can only hope her presence here won't get us in trouble. Mrs Tonks was very upset when I told her, and I doubt the other parents will feel much differently. But Mr Malfoy was so convinced his mother could help us find out what's being hidden at Honeydukes."
"It's a desperate situation, anyone would understand," Ginny said.
The headmistress harrumphed. "I knew her as a girl. Very beautiful, very clever. She could have had a career in potions, in which case we wouldn't be risking a reprimand from the Ministry now for bringing in a layperson, but she was determined to marry that awful boy, and he hung her with jewels and told her his wife mustn't work. What a waste. Her son reminds me of her, so set on having his way. You'll keep an eye on him? He's…unpredictable when he's under pressure."
Ginny didn't know why the observation surprised her. After all, Professor McGonagall had known them all since they were children. "Of course I will."
"Good. The Ministry is sending us an Auror team later for a preliminary report, I couldn't put it off. I requested Mr Potter, but I understand he's very busy."
"I don't think he'll be too busy for this," Ginny said, relieved. Harry was great to have around in a crisis.
"I hope so."
The headmistress looked so weary that Ginny was loath to burden her more, but she felt that she had no choice. "Headmistress – have you considered that all of this might be personal, a way to get at Malfoy?"
"Yes, I have," McGonagall said instantly, "and so has his mother, I'm sure, or she wouldn't have been so quick to come to our aid. We have to keep our eyes open."
"Constant vigilance," Ginny said with a rueful smile.
"Exactly." The headmistress rose, casting one last look out the window. "I know I can trust you to be watchful, Miss Weasley."
Ginny would be, but that didn't mean she didn't feel the burden of the task. "We'll figure this out," she told McGonagall as much as herself. "Don't worry, Headmistress."
McGonagall sized her up with one long look, and then she nodded at Ginny with grave seriousness. "I am glad it was you who succeeded me as Head of Gryffindor. I hope you've learned to feel the same way."
Ginny nodded, feeling embarrassed by such praise, from the headmistress no less, when she'd been so spectacularly absent-minded, if not downright absent. But there was time yet to set things right; she had to believe it.
When McGonagall had left, Ginny took her place by the window. She stared out at the sunlit scenery as she mulled over every little detail of the situation, trying to find an explanation, and preferably one that wouldn't put Malfoy in immediate danger of getting sacked or worse. There was none. At this point, the effects of the whole thing were too far-reaching for a prank, and it couldn't have been an accident, either. Someone was always sucking on a sugar quill; if Ambrosius Flume had slipped up on the dosage of his secret ingredients, the whole school would be affected, but only the Slytherins had been. Ginny wouldn't put it past the unpleasant man to poison Malfoy's batch of candy on purpose, but there was still the question of why.
The door opening startled her from her thoughts. "Hey," Malfoy said, letting himself in without knocking. He was smiling slightly, and Ginny felt a funny stab at her insides and quickly looked out the window again.
"Has your family ever had stock in sweets?" she asked offhandedly.
"No," Malfoy said, and chortled. "Not that I know of. Sorry, I just imagined my father dealing in confectionery… Why do you ask?"
"Wondering why Flume might do something like this." She stared out at the sun sinking lower over the mountains until dark spots danced behind her lids and her eyes began to water. She longed to take her broom out for a quick ride that would clear her head, but there was no time for more extracurricular activities right now. Ginny glanced back at Malfoy, noticed that he was inching around her desk to join her by the window, and pointed her finger firmly at the visitors' chair like she was training an ill-behaved puppy. "Sit."
He raised his eyebrows, but complied. Ginny sat down across from him, pushing aside stacks of essays and the Quidditch pages of the Daily Prophet to make room on her desk for her elbows. She braced her arms on the desktop and forced herself to look at Malfoy with businesslike intent. "I think if he did this, it was on purpose."
Malfoy looked at her oddly, but after a moment, he nodded. "I agree."
It seemed strange for them to be sitting together like this, actually having a civilised conversation. Ginny felt this keenly, and had to resist the urge to go join Malfoy on the other side of the desk, where she could sit on the arm of his chair and be close enough to poke him when he annoyed her or kiss him if he didn't. The glow of their earlier encounter hadn't quite faded; her body still hummed with it even as she tried to sit still, the crumpled fabric of her clothes chafing on her skin and her knickers sticking to the inside of her leg.
Ginny sighed, and tried to put all of that out of her mind. "What else do we know?"
He blinked. "Oh. Well. I was just at the hospital. No one else has fallen ill yet-"
"Thank goodness," she said.
"…Yes, but if Flume poisoned my order, the Hufflepuffs should be showing symptoms by now. They had the same toffees Singh did." He frowned. "It makes no sense."
Now that Ginny thought about it, there really was no pattern to who had been affected, not if they tried to trace the illness through the candy from Malfoy's stock.
"And there's something else," he said. "I took attendance just now, to make sure we're not missing anyone else. I only have third years and up in the hospital, except for Ted. All the other first and second years are fine."
"That's…odd." She tapped her lip with one finger, thinking. "So what does Ted have in common with the older students?"
"He's popular, maybe they shared something with him that the younger kids didn't have. They were all muttering about candy." Malfoy sighed. "I have no idea."
Teddy was the one out of all the Slytherins that meant the most to Malfoy, so if someone was trying to get to him, Teddy made the perfect target. But how would anyone get him alone among all the students in his year? Could the candy be spelled to only affect certain people? Or was all of this coincidence? She huffed. Perhaps she should put in a Floo call to Hermione, they clearly needed more brainpower. "Okay. I'm stumped."
"We need to wait," he said, "See what my mother can tell us."
"Yes, let's put all our faith in your mother." Ginny felt frustrated to the point of snapping. There had to be something they could do, something that didn't involve Mrs Malfoy and her superior ways.
"Yes, I think I will," Malfoy said. "And you trust Mrs Tonks, don't you? So in any case, we should know more in the morning."
"And until then?"
Malfoy, of course, chose the worst time and place to force his peculiar brand of cheer on her. "I could think of a few ways to pass the time."
"Oh, shut up," Ginny said forcefully enough to nip his bloody smirk in the bud. "I heard you talking to your mother earlier."
He shrugged carelessly as if he and his mother had discussed nothing more important than the weather. "I know. She meant for you to, no doubt. I wish you hadn't done her the favour."
"Yeah, well, so do I." Ginny pitched her voice to imitate his mother's posh tone, "At least she's on the List."
Malfoy's lips twitched. "She likes to meddle when she gets bored."
"That's not an excuse for calling me a whore."
"She did not call you a whore."
"She might as well have." Ginny glowered at him. "The last thing I want from you is your gold."
Grinning, he rocked back on two legs of the chair. "What do you want from me, Weasley?"
If only she knew the answer to that. Flushing, Ginny decided that attacking was still the best way of defence. "Well, what do you want?"
They stared at each other, as equally matched in stubbornness as they were in everything else, until she couldn't stand it anymore. Were they really regressing this fast? She looked away at the papers that were scattered over her desk, abandoned the night before when she'd gone to see him. It seemed like much longer since she'd sat here with no greater concern than grading homework.
In the light of how their relationship had progressed in the last forty-eight hours alone, the incessant back-and-forth seemed so silly. Suddenly, Ginny felt tired enough to put her head down on the desk and sleep through the next school year. Her shoulder ached dully. She would've done anything for a long, hot bath and a dose of Madam Pomfrey's painkillers. "All right. These essays will just have to count as extra credit at the end of the year because I'm not grading them tonight."
From the corner of her eye, she could see Malfoy nodding slowly. "You have to forgive my mother," he said, more seriously now. "She feels she's looking out for me."
Ginny did not feel that she 'had to' do anything, nor did she want to discuss all the things Mrs Malfoy had said, or the way he'd reacted to them. Perhaps she was being unfair – 'nothing complicated' was what she'd said, after all – but being dismissed in the same breath as the Greengrass sisters had stung. He and Ginny were friends, or at the very least colleagues, and even before that, they'd been schoolkids with a centuries-old family feud between them. Malfoy had always been a part of her life, special enough to stand out and warrant hexing, and she'd thought he felt the same way about her.
She rubbed her hands over her face, wanting to bash her head in against the desktop. After Harry, she'd dated Dean, and a friend of George's, and even a Muggle who was a patient of Hermione's mother's, and with all of them, she'd known exactly what would come of it: nothing at all. And that had been all right, but with Malfoy, she couldn't ever hope to remain unaffected. She felt foolish for thinking that she could, and for actually expecting him to be her friend.
As the silence dragged on, she felt his eyes on her, sizing her up, trying to find a crack in her façade where he could break through. She felt around for a light remark, but there was nothing to be said. All these years, and Ginny had finally run out of words to say, or shout, or even cry. What she wanted, she realised with terror prickling over her skin, was to get up, go to him, and have him kiss away the hurt as he held her.
But it was never going to be like that.
She shuffled some papers and tried to affect a tone of disinterest as she said, "You said she was poor."
He started. "Pardon?"
"Your mother?"
"Oh – yes. The Noble and Ancient and also destitute House of Black. When my granddad Malfoy forced the Blacks' Apothecary out of business, there went the only source of income they'd ever bothered to develop. By the time my mother was born, grandfather Black and his brother had squandered what remained of the family fortune. I've seen pictures, they kept up appearances, but it must've been hard. My mother's priorities are, well. She's talked about going hungry for a new ballgown." He smiled to himself. "Imagine the family parties when I was a boy – five minutes with my grandfathers in the same room and everyone wanted to hide under the dinner table. I usually did."
Ginny looked up from her papers, found him smiling, and quickly looked away again. "How did your parents ever get together?"
"How you'd expect. At Hogwarts, this nursery of mésalliances. They were housemates. You know how it goes. There's lots of dark hiding places down in the dungeons…why am I talking about this?" He shuddered exaggeratedly. "They were friends. It just happened. Why are you upset?"
Ginny knocked over a stack of homework scrolls, which rolled off her desk. She leaned down to retrieve them from under a cabinet. "'It just happened'? Your mother's not the type to leave anything to chance."
"She isn't," he said from above. Ginny heard his chair scrape against the floor as he stood up.
"So she's the gold digger," Ginny muttered, perversely pleased by this bit of information. Knowing some embarrassing details about Mrs Malfoy might prove useful at some point. Ginny quirked a rueful smile. Malfoy's ways were rubbing off on her.
"Nah, my father isn't stupid. It'd be too dangerous to have a wife who's good at potions and hates you." Suddenly Malfoy was beside her, crouching down behind her desk and getting his robes dusty. "You could just use Accio, you know."
"Get up, I've got it!" She brushed dust motes off the dark wool of his clothes, making a mental note to redo the self-cleaning charms in her office as she tried to touch Malfoy in the most businesslike manner possible. It wasn't easy; she felt the warmth of his body even through his robes, and was reminded how lovely it had been, snuggled up on his sofa together not two hours ago.
He caught her hands in his and, when she resisted him, simply wrapped his arms around her, locking her in his embrace. "You don't care about my mother," he stated without the shadow of a doubt. "And you don't care what she thinks about you, either."
"No, I don't," Ginny agreed, trying to wriggle free.
"So what did I…" He raised his eyebrows. "What did you want me to tell her about us?"
"Would you let me go, we have stuff to do, McGonagall said-"
"Ginny, what did you want me to say?"
She planted her hands on his chest and pushed him back. "Stop it. McGonagall said we have Aurors coming in tonight. With any luck, they'll send us Harry-"
Malfoy let her go then. He stood briskly, wrapping his dusty robes around him with the air of someone putting on battle armour. "Yes, that's just what we need. Potter prancing around here."
"Can we not? For the sake of the children? We need help, and Harry's good at what he does." Ginny climbed to her feet, brushing off her skirt.
"I know, Potter's perfect," Malfoy sneered.
She gritted her teeth. "You're welcome to go have dinner with the Greengrass sisters. You can come back when Harry's left."
"Oh, sure, I'm going to make way for Potter! This place is mine, they're my students, and-" He broke off, hovering over Ginny like a dark cloud, lightning flashing in his eyes. "I'm not going anywhere." And then he was kissing her with all the brazen promise of their newfound intimacy, and Ginny couldn't resist; she bit at his lip, causing him to break away, panting. "Fine," he gasped, "Be mad. I can handle mad."
"You've had lots of practice," she snapped.
"I have. I'm an expert. Give it to me."
"What?"
"Whatever you're dying to say."
"I'm not."
"Then why are we not kissing?"
Ginny threw up her hands; words failed her. Had he always gotten what he wanted, for as long as he'd lived? "I'm not your plaything!"
Malfoy frowned. "I didn't-" and then the door opened and one of Ginny's prefects stuck her head inside. Her eyes widened when she saw Ginny together with Malfoy.
"Sorry, Professor Weasley, the headmistress sent me. Mr Potter is here, he's looking for you."
"Of course he is," Malfoy muttered under his breath.
"I'll be right there, Sally," Ginny said.
"He's up in the hospital," Sally informed her, and mercifully disappeared with just one last, shrewd look.
"Not one word!" Ginny told Malfoy when she saw him draw breath.
"I just-" Malfoy began.
"Nu-uh!" She wagged a finger in his face. "Don't."
"Why? Scared I'm going to tell Potter you shagged me?" he sneered.
Ginny didn't do embarrassed – six brothers and an overbearing mother meant that she'd had to develop a thick skin early on in life – but what had happened with Malfoy was different somehow than her romantic episodes with various boyfriends. It was complicated in spite of her best efforts not to make it so: there had been something very intimate about opening herself up to that kind of desire again after so many years. She felt vulnerable with it; Malfoy couldn't use it against her, not this.
Of course, telling him he couldn't do something was probably the surest way to make him want to.
"I'm not scared," she said, peering up at him intently. "You're not going to tell."
"And why's that?"
"Because you want me to do it again." She only realised how true that was when his lips twitched, and a smile forced its way through the gloom of his perpetual disdain. Her heart skipped a beat, and she felt pleased and silly for it when he shrugged and nodded.
"All right. You got me there."
Ginny knew it was she who'd initiated their earlier encounter, and it was she who held all the power to make it happen again, but even so, she felt that she was making things too easy for him. Much as she wanted it to be true, it would be a lie to say that touching him once had satisfied her need for physical closeness. If anything, she wanted him more now that she had told herself she couldn't have him again. She could give in and sleep with him once without it having to mean anything, but if she did it again, it'd be no casual sex; it would become something to which she could give no name, but which would build between them anyway until it became an obstacle they could never get past.
They stared at each other for a long, tense moment, hovering just at the edge of that invisible barrier that came crashing down between them so easily as soon as Ginny gave only the slightest bit. Where Malfoy was concerned, she'd always had little restraint, no matter if she was cursing or kissing him, and she knew just how easy it would be to give in now, take that step forward that would carry her into his arms and sweet oblivion. Forgotten were her own words, his mother's snide ones and his careless reply, or maybe Ginny just didn't care after all. With her heartbeat thundering in her ears, she heard nothing, and only knew that whoever was playing whom, she desperately wanted this game to continue.
It took all her self-control, but with a slight shudder, she took a step back. "Be good," she told herself as much as Malfoy.
He sighed deeply, but it was a sound of pleasure, not of defeat. "I'm going to be good," he promised in a rare show of compliance, "But it's so hard when my clothes still smell like you."
They were never going to get anything done at this rate: not with him glancing at her with lust in his eyes and her body responding instantly to his look, tensing and aching so deliciously and reminding her of what they could be doing together instead of arguing. It was no good. Huffing, Ginny grabbed his hand and dragged him out of her office and up the stairs. "It'll be easier for you with Harry there." Actually, it would be easier for both of them.
"I hate Potter," Malfoy said, with feeling.
Ginny snorted. "I'm sure it's entirely mutual, if that's any consolation."
"It is. Just a bit."
That reminded her of an earlier line of thought. "Who else feels that way about you, do you think?"
"Is that a trick question?"
"No." She glanced back at him, found him smiling a little, and felt her heart constrict painfully inside her chest. In the shadows of the stairwell, she stopped him, her hands braced against his chest. Suddenly, she felt a real need to touch him if only to assure herself that he was okay. "What if someone's trying to get back at you with all this?"
"Me personally, you mean." He didn't sound like the thought had occurred to him only then. His smile faded. "It's possible."
"Going through the children though, that'd be…"
"Extreme." He sort of slumped against the wall behind him and bowed his head, and Ginny felt his chest rise and fall as he sighed deeply. He looked so tired then, it was like all that was holding him up were her hands on him. "I don't know."
"Think about it," she urged. Someone had to have an awful need for vengeance to go to such lengths with it.
"I don't exactly keep a list of who hates me," he huffed. "If this is about me, if it's all because of me, I just… I don't want to know."
"You might be in danger."
"Who cares?"
"I do." Unable to help herself, she rose on tiptoes to kiss the bruise by his lip that her teeth had left earlier. "Work with me here."
His lips twitched tiredly. "You just told me to 'be good'."
"Be good and think."
"Sure, that's what you meant. Why do we always find ourselves snogging in hallways, Weasley? It has no style."
"Oh, now you're complaining?"
"I'm not." He wrapped his long arms around her and held her tightly, her head tucked under his chin, and Ginny couldn't resist the closeness when it came from such genuine need. She curled her fingers into the fabric of his shirt and held on to him. "Who'd poison half of Slytherin House just to ruin my life?" He whispered the words into her hair as if it would hurt to hear them spoken too loudly. "My school mates all hate me."
"But they wouldn't hurt the kids from their own house," she said, glancing up at him in disbelief when Malfoy laughed darkly.
"Some of them might. But they're too stupid to stage something this mysterious. That leaves Potter and his gang, various family members of yours, they'd all love to see me sacked-"
Ginny gave him a light punch in the ribs, which wasn't easy while she was wrapped up in his arms. "Haha."
"And, of course, everyone who might hold a grudge against my parents. In other words, half of Britain." For a moment, he was silent, his fists clutching at the back of her jumper. Then, he put her from him and brusquely turned away. "This is not helpful."
Ginny reached for him, but grasped only thin air as he pushed past her and continued up the stairs. "I'm just trying to-"
"Well, don't, all right!" Malfoy called over his shoulder. "It's no good!"
She hurried after him, but he wouldn't let her catch up this time. He walked ahead to the infirmary, his dark robes billowing behind him, and shut the door in her face. Ginny stood outside for a moment, breathing deeply, willing herself to not let him get to her. Malfoy's temper would try a saint's patience, and Ginny was hardly an angel herself. He pushed her limits, and she pushed back harder, and it was like sitting on a seesaw, going up and down with the back and forth of their arguments. She'd long come to accept that they were equally matched; so why could they never be level with each other? It was force keeping them going, nothing else, and she just wanted a bloody break.
Behind the door, she heard murmuring, and then Malfoy's voice rising clearly with fresh annoyance. Belatedly, Ginny remembered that they had a visitor. She flung the door open to find Malfoy almost nose to nose with Harry, having come upon his favourite target at a moment of keen vulnerability, which was always when Malfoy was at his most vicious.
"…just wondering, Malfoy," Harry was saying, "Why's it all Slytherins? Why's it always all Slytherins?"
"If you think I did this…!"
"You said that, I didn't," Harry snapped.
Malfoy's face was contorted with rage; Ginny barely knew him. She'd gotten used to his smiles, she realised, and rushed forward to elbow Malfoy aside and wedge herself between the two men.
"Hey. I'm glad you're here," she said to Harry, reaching out to hug him if only for distraction. "Did Madam Pomfrey fill you in?"
Harry glared at Malfoy over her shoulder, but he said, "The headmistress did. How could this happen so fast? They were all fine yesterday."
Malfoy audibly drew breath, but Ginny elbowed him again, knocking the wind out of him. "We don't know." She stressed it enough that Malfoy, behind her, fell silent, and Harry finally turned his attention to her. He looked her up and down and frowned.
"I'm going to have to ask some more questions."
"I already told you, Potter," Malfoy said acerbically, "Look around. There's Ted. These are my kids! It's not me doing this. It's not any of mine." He pushed past Ginny to stand by Teddy's bed. His scowl would've been frightful if his chin hadn't wobbled oddly with it, and Ginny wished she could give him an easy hug, too, to calm him down. But there was nothing easy about Malfoy, never.
Harry glanced around at the unconscious students in the long rows of beds, then back at Malfoy. Slowly, he nodded. "Okay," he said, more calmly. "I believe you."
"So good of you." For once, Malfoy seemed to have had enough. He turned on his heel and marched out, his pale face flushed with anger.
"That was unnecessary," Ginny said to Harry when they were alone. "He wouldn't do anything like this."
"I know. Not to his own," Harry conceded.
"So leave him alone, will you?"
Harry gave her an incredulous look. "It's just Malfoy."
She was surprised how that careless remark got under her skin. She'd become protective of Malfoy: if someone was going to insult him, it was going to be Ginny. "You don't even know what you're talking about!"
"And you do?" Harry asked dryly.
"I think I know him a little better than you do," she said, tilting her chin up at him defiantly.
Harry shrugged. "Much as I try to forget it, I've known Malfoy since we were eleven."
"Exactly. And now you're almost thirty. Things change."
"How so?" Harry's eyes narrowed. "From where I'm standing, he's being a prat as usual."
"He's worried," Ginny said.
Harry looked offended. "No reason to let it out on the people who are trying to help. You know I have to ask questions. It's my job."
"You don't have to ask questions you already know the answer to," she insisted. "Questions that get people hurt."
"I'm not trying to pick a fight with him, but if he wants to be difficult, I don't really care about hurting his feelings for the sake of the investigation."
"I care."
"I can tell. You-" Harry broke off and clamped his mouth shut, frowning. There was an awkward pause. "What is this, Ginny?" he forced out then, like the words pained him. "I mean, Malfoy?"
"It's just..." She couldn't even begin to explain, and she was annoyed that she'd have to. "He's... We've been through a lot together."
"Oh yeah?" Harry asked bitterly. He shoved his hands into his pockets and scowled.
Ginny's temper sparked. "We've been here for a long time. We've come a long way. He cares about these kids, he's loyal, he's dependable-"
"Dependable!" Harry snorted.
"It's just..." Ginny ran her hands through her messy hair in agitation. Harry knew her; if she looked as frazzled and disheveled as she felt, he'd be able to guess just how much Ginny did not tell him. She didn't owe him an explanation, but suddenly she wanted to make him understand just a little of what she was going through. "He's like a bad rash, okay? It's not like you ask for it, but suddenly it's there, and it's not just going to go away. It's going to keep itching until you break down and scratch it, and when you do, it feels really, really good."
Harry looked deeply disturbed. "Don't you want to get rid of it? Erm, him?"
"It's not… I'm here to stay. So is he. That's how it's going to be." That part was simple enough. The rest of it wasn't. "Might as well make the best of it."
"And what's that?"
"I don't know, okay? Just let me figure it out," she said, perhaps a little more forcefully than she should have. "And in the meantime, leave Malfoy alone while he's worried sick over his students."
"I really am here to help, you know," Harry said, and it sounded not a little hurt.
"I know," Ginny said, softening. She laid a hand on his arm in a silent offer of truce. "Sorry. This job can be so much more stressful than you'd think."
"Well, this is Hogwarts." He sighed, but then got on with the task at hand. "I came up from the village, my partners and I were sent in to Honeydukes to take a look at the damage. I found this." He held out his fist and, glancing around to make sure no one was looking, opened his hand to show Ginny a shiny Slytherin prefect's badge. "I haven't shown anyone yet, I want to play this close to the chest until I find out what it's got to do with your mystery epidemic."
Ginny frowned. "Well, I suppose any of the prefects could've lost it at the shop, the kids had a Hogsmeade day just last weekend-"
"But I didn't find this upstairs in the shop. It was down in the cellar, under some debris. It had to have been there before the explosion." Madam Pomfrey hurried past with a large bottle and a handful of spoons. Harry slipped the badge into his pocket. "The door was open, too," he whispered. "You know, the one to the secret passageway?"
The secret passageway that led to Hogwarts and ended behind the statue of the one-eyed witch, where they'd rounded up the drugged Slytherins last night. Ginny's breath caught in her throat. "You think they've sneaked into the shop before?"
"They wouldn't be the first ones to sneak out, but no student has ever caused this kind of damage before."
"Damage? You mean the accident at Honeydukes?"
"The explosion may have been an accident, but from the evidence we've gathered, it looks like the shop was robbed first. It was only candy that got taken, mind you. A lot of trouble for some sweets." He frowned."Do you think any of the students would do something like that?"
Ginny snorted. "I think they've got all the candy they could eat up here. Someone would have to be out of their mind-" She broke off, thinking. "Unless they were drugged already before last night."
"Did you notice anything?" Harry asked.
"No," Ginny said, but then she thought about it. "Maybe. Webber – he's that one, over there," she pointed at a bed where the chubby Webber slept, "He's been behaving oddly all week." Something else occurred to her. "Madam Pomfrey? Which of the students fell ill first?"
"Before little Teddy? Mr Levi and Mr Webber, over there," the matron called. "Excuse me, Mr Potter, it's time for their next dose of potion." She continued administering medicine to the students one by one.
Ginny gave Harry a pointed look. "Levi's a prefect."
"All right," Harry said darkly. "I'll have to look into this. We'll need to see if we can find his prefect's badge-"
"If he's got it, it must be on his robes, none of them would dare show up without their badge. Malfoy is extremely strict about maintaining the house spirit." That reminded her she had to go and smooth things over before Malfoy's dark mood spiraled out of control. "There's something else. Malfoy said that no first or second years have fallen ill, aside from Teddy. It's odd, what is it that the older ones have that the first two grades don't?"
Harry considered this. "I don't know. I'll think about it. And I'll call Hermione, she's bored at home on maternity leave now, she'll help us."
Ginny nodded. "Anything I can do?"
"Not for now. I'll just write up a quick memo to Kingsley. That'll give Madam Pomfrey another day or two to sort things out." He looked at Teddy, who appeared like he was sleeping peacefully except for the unnatural pallor of his skin. "I need to get back to Honeydukes, but I want to sit with Teddy for a little while."
Ginny patted his arm. "I'll be outside."
She half-hoped that Malfoy had left; they could all use a moment to breathe, but he was still there, pacing the corridor outside the hospital, ready to have another go at her the moment she stepped through the door.
"Are you two done?" he snapped.
"Yes," Ginny said simply. "And Harry had some news." She related her conversation with Harry to Malfoy in quick words, trying to get it over with as soon as possible. If the children were behind the cauldron explosion at Honeydukes too, that added a whole new layer to the situation. Ginny wondered what it meant. Had Ambrosius Flume gone overboard with his secret ingredients, enough so that the children would wreck his shop for their next fix? Things kept getting more complicated.
By the time she was done, she could tell Malfoy was ready to snap. "I'm sorry," she finished. "We've got to go look for Levi's badge, see if it's on his robes or not."
"Let Potter poke around, it's his job, isn't it? He loves to prove Slytherins guilty of something."
"No one's trying to-"
"Oh, please. Did you see the look on his face, earlier? Like it was the kids' fault what happened to them! Or mine." He slapped his hand against the wall. "You know, that is why... That's exactly it."
"What is?" Ginny asked gently.
But he shook his head. "Those kids need me to look out for them – me! – because Mr Ministry of Magic blames them even when they're the victims."
Ginny didn't quite know what to say. "You're a good Head of House," she tried, because it was true.
The corner of Malfoy's mouth that she could see curled slightly, but he didn't say anything for the longest time. "Do you know... Can you even imagine what it was like, being a Slytherin in the days of Harry Potter?" he said then.
"What's your point?" she asked. "No one had it easy back then. You know, what with the war and all."
He gave her a dark look. "Believe me, it wasn't pleasant for us. Always losing out, always second best, and then, at the end-" He broke off, biting down on the rest of it like the words tasted foul. "It's been getting better these past few years, but as soon as something happens, it's we who get the blame. The kids in Slytherin need someone who's on their side."
For a long time, Ginny had thought he was just contrary, stubbornly determined to get what no one wanted him to have when he competed with her for the coveted job. She'd had an inkling of something else sometimes when she saw him with his kids, but she'd never considered how things might look through his eyes.
"Mc Gonagall is fair!" Ginny said after a moment. "She wouldn't allow any group of students to be mistreated."
He rolled his eyes. "She's...all right, but she isn't exactly a nurturer."
"And you are?" Ginny smiled.
Malfoy's face twisted like he wanted to sulk some more, but had been struck by an unwelcome cheering charm: his mouth curled at the corners even as he glared at her. "And what's wrong with that?"
"Nothing. I just never saw you as warm and cuddly," she said dryly, although she'd have to revise that opinion now: he'd been plenty cuddly earlier.
Malfoy seemed to be thinking of the same thing. He reached out, his lips twitching now even though she could tell he was trying hard not to smile, and Ginny let him tug her closer by her sleeve. "You'd be surprised."
She wouldn't be; that was the whole problem, wasn't it? She tilted her head back to look up at Malfoy, who was so close now that she could see the amused glint in his eyes even in the dim light. Her breath hitched; Malfoy leaned in closer.
A door opened down the corridor, and Ginny turned her head just in time to see Harry look at them, his face darkening with a frown. She glanced back imploringly at Malfoy, saw the smirk that was tugging at his mouth, his eyes firmly on Harry even as he leaned in to kiss her, and her stomach dropped. Quickly, she took a few steps back, leaving Malfoy to stumble over his own feet before he caught himself against the opposite wall.
Harry turned on his heel and stalked off.
"What are you doing?" Malfoy asked, annoyance plain in his voice even before Ginny spun around to look at him.
They glared at each other across the hall, the warmth of the previous moments dissipating fast. Ginny folded her arms across her chest, hugging herself. Things could be so easy between them when they were alone, until the rest of the world intruded and with it Malfoy's overwhelming desire to act out, anything for a bit of attention; and the one whose attention he'd always craved most was Harry. She'd been stupid. "What are you doing?"
"I don't even know," he said coldly. He pushed off the wall and past her, suddenly in a hurry to get away.
Ginny stared after him, marvelling how he was the one who was upset. "I'm sure you'll come up with something," she called. "Don't you have a list somewhere? 'One thousand ways to annoy Harry Potter'? Pick another one of those, don't use me for it."
Malfoy spun around. "You think I'm using you?" He laughed, but it was an unpleasant sound, devoid of humour. "You know, I think I'm starting to feel sorry for Dean Thomas and all those other blokes."
She'd thought she'd become impervious to the insults he dished out, but she realised now that the opposite was true: for the first time in a long, long while, he'd chosen his words maliciously, and oh, they hurt.
She couldn't even remember when she'd last drawn her wand with true intent of cursing him, but now, she wanted to hurt him back. Her hand shook as she pointed her wand between his mockingly raised eyebrows. What was it about him, she thought, what was it about her that she'd ended up here like this, with him? It would've been comforting to pretend she'd been swept off her feet and into temporary insanity by Malfoy's charm, but no one could ever have accused Malfoy of being too nice. Perhaps he was right; perhaps there was something wrong with her.
"What?" he mocked when she continued to glare at him silently, the tip of her wand pointing at his brow. "Can't handle when a man doesn't fall at your feet?"
"You don't know what you're talking about," Ginny said coldly. "You wish you did, but you don't. You're not my boyfriend. You're not my anything."
"Well. I'm the one who was inside you not three hours ago," he sneered.
She shuddered to hear him speak about it in that nasty tone of voice. "That was… I don't know what that was. I don't know what I'm doing anymore."
His voice was harsh with the chill of his anger. "Oh, I think you know exactly what you're doing."
"Well, if you've got it all figured out…" For once, she didn't stick around to get in the last word. She turned brusquely and marched off down the hall, blind for the blur before her eyes and angry at herself for inviting this sort of abuse. What had she been thinking, allowing Malfoy so close, inside her head and her heart and her body? The answer to that, of course, was simple and all the more infuriating for it: she hadn't been thinking at all. She'd acted on a desire that was too overwhelming to resist, with no care for what happened after. Only now, she did care. She cared more than she wanted to.
She took the long way back to Gryffindor Tower, over back stairs and through abandoned hallways, avoiding everyone and especially Harry until she had control over herself. She hadn't cried in a long time, and she hated it, but there was no stopping the tears or the gasping and gulping that shook her body. In the end, she slipped into a nook behind a large ornamental tapestry of a werewolf howling at the moon and worked to get her breathing under control, muttering insults at Malfoy that went unheard, but relieved some of the pressure regardless.
She still felt sick inside, but when she stepped out of the alcove a while later, she could put on a brave face again for her students, at least for as long as it took to get past them to her long-needed bath and a few hours' rest.
Everything else could wait until tomorrow.