Thank you to all those who have followed or put this story on alert, and a special thank you to those who took the time to review. Reviews are always great to receive and I thank all those who have given me feedback.
There are direct quotes from Order of the Phoenix in this chapter towards the end, mainly dialogue from chapter 38, The Second War Begins. I hope they've been woven in pretty seamlessly. I was rereading the book at the time I wrote most of this chapter so it seemed silly to be writing a scene that takes place in the book without some direct reference.
Lessons
Molly Weasley burst into the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes with Arthur trailing behind her. She wound her way through the haphazardly arranged shelves, brandishing the paper at her sons.
As Molly came to a stop in front of the counter, for which Fred was currently feeling immensely grateful for, he tucked his arm behind his back to hide the burn salve that covered much of his forearm. He hoped that she didn't recognise the smell.
"Mother, Father," he greeted his jovially. "To what do we owe this auspicious honour?"
"Perhaps you wish to buy some Frolicking Fudge?" George asked, winking at his parents cheekily.
"Or Gut-Wrenching Candy."
"Or perhaps something from our alcoholic range?"
"Some Tequila Smarties maybe?"
"Good choice, my dear fellow."
"Why thank you, kind sir."
"Boys!" Molly hissed, in no mood for her sons' antics. "Have you seen the Prophet this morning?"
Fred and George's smiles dropped, morphing into identical looks of concern. They worried about their mother; they didn't like seeing her so torn up. They looked over to their father, who stood slightly behind his wife with a look of hopelessness, born of complete and utter exhaustion, on his face.
It was widely known that Molly Weasley wielded a great amount of power over her family, with both her magical prowess, and ability to yell for hours at a time without a skerrick of oxygen, at a volume that made Howlers seem akin to a whisper, consolidating her rule. What was a lesser acknowledged fact, however, was that Arthur Weasley was what kept her strong. He was her backbone; the only one that could pick her up or comfort her when she was overcome with despair. The one she turned to when she didn't have the answers and the one she trusted above all others.
Except now, he could not comfort her. She would not listen, would not heed reason, and he found she was slipping further and further away from him. One of her babies was gone. She couldn't feed, nag or interfere; Ginny was intangible to her. He couldn't fix it for her; he couldn't make her pain go away. And it hurt him.
"Mum," George began tentatively, taking an involuntary step back from the counter. "The Prophet isn't really a reliable sou-"
"I don't care whether it's a reliable source or not!" The three Weasley men cringed as the decibel level of Molly's voice raised to banshee level. "We need to go there and look for her. That-that man! Might have her. He might be hurting her."
Arthur closed his eyes behind his wife briefly, missing the panic that flitted through his sons' eyes. Arthur let out a soft sigh before placing a hand softly on his wife's arm. "Molly-"
"No," she snapped, shaking Arthur's hand off of her. "We have to look for her."
"Mum, she left," Fred said, reiterating what they had told her many times before with limited success, unable to meet her eye.
"She would not leave," Molly stated confidently. "She couldn't."
The Prophet had been reporting sightings of Ginny for months now. Each one simultaneously gave new hope to Molly and tore it away. Each one persuaded her just a little bit more that Ginny wouldn't have left.
"She could and she did," said Fred firmly.
"She had money," George added, echoing his twin's tone.
"She was a secretary!" Molly exclaimed shrilly. "She did not have enough money to pick up and leave."
"Well…" George started timidly. He looked to his father for help but Arthur's eyes were downcast and staring vacantly at the floor.
"She had savings," Fred supplied quickly.
Molly's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"Ten percent of our savings in fact," Fred admitted.
"She owned ten per cent of WWW?" Arthur asked startled, his head snapping up to face them. "Since when? Why didn't you tell us when she first disappeared?"
Fred and George watched as their father calculated the ten per cent; watched as he realised how much she had to live off. What was worse though, was that they watched as their mother finally broke. It was sheer bloody mindedness that had kept Molly from believing Ginny wouldn't leave of her own free will, despite the mounting evidence to the contrary, and now, that will had been destroyed.
Tears welled in her eyes and her bottom lip quivered. Her entire face seemed to crumple. Her shoulders sagged as the burden of holding so tightly to the façade that Ginny wouldn't have left, was stripped away from her. She stumbled slightly and Arthur clung to her to keep her standing, to reassure her that he was there.
"Mum?" Fred and George ventured softly in unison.
Molly looked up at them, her eyes filled to breaking point. She bustled around the counter, and gave them each a quick, but fierce hug that seemed to hold the duel purpose of reassuring them she was okay, and threatening them should they decide to leave her too, before she allowed Arthur to lead her to the back of the store, and into the Floo.
Arthur held Molly's hand as he helped her from the fireplace of the Burrow, holding her hand tightly as if to keep her grounded.
"She left us, Arthur," Molly whispered, dropping heavily onto the couch. Arthur fell to his knees in front of her, his hand still clasped tightly with hers, the other resting lightly on her knee.
She glanced over at the piano that sat in the corner of the room, used more as a mantle for trinkets and family photographs than as an instrument. Molly made her way over to the piano, the wood stained and scratched; the keys out of tune and covered with a fine layer of dust. Arthur wrapped his arms around her, resting his head atop hers, rubbing her back soothingly. She clung tightly to his slender frame, and made a mental note to feed him more often.
She stood there, embraced and protected by her husband of thirty five years and finally let herself cry, truly cry for Ginny; for her baby girl.
"She was so talented."
GMGMGMGMMGMG
"Bloody hell, Weasley!" Draco yelled, covering his ears with his hands. "How hard is it to find the bloody C?"
"Nobody asked you to come so keep your opinions to yourself!" Ginny retorted angrily.
"No, you asked me to come. 'Oh please, Draco,'" he said in a high-pitched voice, clearly meant to be her. "'I need so desperately to practice and that slag Umbridge won't let me practice alone. Please save me from my obscene lack of talent'."
"I do not sound like that, you great git!"
"No, you're right. There was much more of a whine in your voice." Draco ducked gracelessly as a jet of purple light streamed towards him. "Now, now, Weasley," he scolded as he righted himself, with all the dignity he could muster. "There's no need for violence."
"Children," William snapped, "could you at least try to be civil?"
"I am being civil," Draco stated pompously. "She is the one throwing curses around."
"If you weren't such an arse, I wouldn't have to throw curses around!"
William pinched the bridge of his nose, "Have either of heard the phrase, 'music hath charms to soothe a savage breast'?"
"I'm soothed," Ginny snapped.
"Yeah, well, so am I."
"I am way more soothed than you."
"Hardly," Draco scoffed. "You're about as soothed as a Horntail. I, however, am the picture of serenity."
GMGMGMGMG
"He was really a bastard all year?" Angie asked, a frown creasing her brow slightly. Ginny nodded her assent. "But all year," Angie tried again.
"We always fought," Ginny replied nonchalantly with a shrug of her shoulders, "with gusto."
"But all year?"
Ginny gave her a wry smile. "I guess looking back there were times when it wasn't so serious; when we weren't trying to make each other turn all kinds of funny colours, but mostly he was just a bastard."
GMGMGMGMGMG
"You know what struck me last night, Weasley?" Draco asked, coming to stand behind Ginny as she sat in the library, hunched over a transfiguration assignment, furiously scribbling. The scratching of the old quill over the parchment was akin to nails on a chalk board. Ginny turned her head slightly to glare up at him, her lips pursed, conveying her annoyance at his interruption. "You remind me of a buoy."
"Was that your way of offering to buy me a nice push up bra?" Ginny asked testily. She did not have time for this.
"Not a boy as in male," Draco said as if speaking to a small child, and rolling his eyes. "A buoy. One of those bright red things on the ocean that make sure ships don't run a ground." Draco smirked as her glare intensified. "Really, you're the spitting image. A glaring and distaste shade of red, big head and even bigger body. And tell me, just how many, urm, ships have you let run a ground?" he asked leeringly.
"You're a foul prat, Mal-ferret," Ginny hissed with all the venom of a viper.
"Mal-ferret? Draco repeated, a pale eyebrow raised. "Even your idiot brother comes up with better insults than that."
"I'm tired," Ginny defended.
"Mal-ferret?"
"Big assignment … For McGonagall. I was up all last night working on it!"
"Mal-ferret?"
"It's two feet of parchment on one little spell."
"Mal-ferret?"
"Oh, just sod off, Malfoy."
GMGMGMGMG
Ginny hurtled down the corridor, late for her piano lesson. She burst through the door, breathing heavily, her robes billowing behind her.
"Sorry, William," she panted, slamming the door behind her. "Bloody Colin kept-" she stopped abruptly as she caught movement out of the corner of her eye.
Draco rose from a wooden chair that seemed to have only two legs, a fierce scowl on his face.
"Is there a reason you think it necessary to waste more of my time?" he growled.
"You know many people in this castle think me and my antics are cute and endearing, why don't you become one of them? It would make everything much easier," Ginny said sweetly, unconsciousness checking that her DA coin was safe at the bottom of her slightly singed pocket.
"Where were you?" he spat, ignoring her reply.
"That is none of your business!" Ginny stated indignantly. From behind Draco, William rolled his eyes, and floated over to the piano.
"I am a Prefect. Everything is my business."
"You sound like Percy," Ginny muttered, calmly walking over to the piano. She drew her book from her bag, flicking through the pages indecisively. "Feel like some Beethoven, William?"
"Weasley, if you don't give me an answer in the next ten seconds, I will take fifty points from Gryffindor," he snapped.
Ginny whirled around in her seat, her braid whipping around and hitting her cheek. "Fifty points?" she thundered. "How the hell are you going to explain taking fifty points from me?"
"You attacked me," he said simply, crossing his arms over his chest. "Quite viciously."
"No one is going to believe you," she stated with a snort.
"I will make certain that they do, and of course there are the witnesses."
"What witnesses?" she shrieked. "You can't just conjure witnesses out of thin air … well, I suppose theoretically you could, but no one is going to believe you."
Draco raised an eyebrow at her, staring into her eyes. Ginny bit her bottom lip under the scrutiny, drawing a self-assured smirk from Draco. She looked to William for support but he was running his translucent fingers over the keys, wilfully ignoring the warring pair.
He couldn't do it, she told herself. No one would believe that she attacked a student. And push come to shove, she was sure William would back her story. Although, she supposed, there was that small dispute she had had with Michelle Wilkes. McGonagall had been quite clear that following in her twin brothers' footsteps wasn't a particularly bright choice of path.
She hadn't strictly attacked the girl, but McGonagall hadn't quite seen it that way. Apparently, giving Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes products that may not have been safe for sale just yet, was both morally ambiguous and against school rules. She would have given her the antidote eventually though, and really, Ginny thought, Wilkes' face had been a darn sight better in bright blue ... Maybe it was better not to risk it.
"Fine, if you must know," Ginny said dramatically, quickly thinking of a lie to account for her whereabouts. She doubted telling Malfoy that a meeting of a secret defence association, fondly known as Dumbledore's Army, had run late would go down too well. "Colin locked a classroom that I was in. He and Dennis thought it was funny. They said something about payback. Happy?"
"Not remotely."
Draco didn't say a word for the rest of the lesson. He just sat in his rickety chair with a scowl on his face, twirling his wand between his fingers, occasionally letting of jets of coloured light, and smirking when Ginny spun around to glare at him.
As he walked her back to Gryffindor Tower, for once walking at a pace that could be considered normal, he said, "You rush."
"Huh?" Ginny asked, caught off guard.
Draco rolled his eyes. "When you play. You rush," he explained.
"So?"
"So when you rush you make mistakes. The music wasn't meant to be played that fast. You're not playing the music; you're letting it play you. There was a reason Beethoven didn't write it to be played at the speed of light."
"Because he was deaf," Ginny offered.
He glanced at her quickly, before his pace increased. "So I need to slow down," Ginny said, speeding up to keep in step with him.
"Yes," he replied stiffly, "Speed is not always an indicator of expertise."
"Okay, I'll slow down next time I play Beethoven," she said confidently, pleased when he slowed down again. "Can I play Bach at light speed?"
GMGMGMGMGMGM
A few weeks later, Ginny lay exhausted in the middle of the Quidditch pitch, her broom discarded beside her. It felt good to have been in the air again. Everything seemed to float away and the world narrowed to just her and her broom.
"What are you doing here, Weasley?" Draco barked, looming over her.
"I think I may be dying."
"Then get off my pitch."
Ginny raised an arm, shaking it lightly to make her sleeve drop down her arm in order to see her watch face. "It's not your pitch for another twenty minutes, you over eager little ferret."
"As a member of the Inquisitorial Squad, it is my pitch when I say it is," said Draco arrogantly, puffing his chest out slightly and holding his head a little higher. The pompous action made his pointed nose stick in the air.
Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled herself into a sitting position, turning to look up at him. "You can't honestly enjoy being her lapdog?"
"Why would I enjoy it? I mean with the special treatment, ability to take points off whoever I like, whenever I like, and order everyone around. Nope. Can't think why they would be appealing."
"Fine," Ginny huffed. "I get it, it's a good deal, but you can't think that the school is better off with her in charge? I mean, you do take Defence."
"Defence Against the Dark Arts is a load of crock anyway. At Durmstrang they actually teach you worthwhile spells and curses."
"Yes, yes, I know," Ginny said quickly before he could say anymore. "Your father wanted to send you there, but your mummy didn't want her baby boy so far away from her."
Draco scowled at her, drawing an indelicate snort from Ginny.
"Seriously though, Malfoy," Ginny said, sobering. "Do you like Umbridge running the school? If she had never come here, you wouldn't be stuck escorting me to my lessons. You love telling me how inconvenient they are for you."
"And trust me, they've gotten worse since the singing began," he sneered, shuddering slightly for effect. "My ears may never recover."
"Hey, my voice is not that bad," Ginny defended herself, scowling up at him.
"S'not that good either."
"How very original," Ginny deadpanned.
"Because Mal-Ferret was sublime."
"I was tired!"
"Whatever helps you sleep at night," he retorted smugly. "Now Weasley," he continued pleasantly. "Get the hell off my pitch."
"I still have another fifteen minutes. Keep your knickers on!" Grabbing her broom, she stood up, dusting the dirt from her bum.
"What are you doing here, anyway? And is that Potter's broom?"
"Take careful notice of Harry's broom, do you?" Ginny asked, waggling her eye-brows in an expression eerily akin to the twins.
"Not nearly as often as you do, but I suppose Corner is scratching that itch now, isn't he?"
"Are you always such a foul mouthed prick?" Ginny asked scathingly.
"You can have a mouthful of my prick anytime you like, Weasley," he replied leeringly.
"I'll take that as a yes," she answered, disgust lacing her voice.
Draco smirked at her. "Toddle on."
"I still have ten minutes," she said sweetly, digging the handle of the broom into the soft ground, the move shifting Draco's attention towards it.
"Weasley," he said with sudden glee in his voice. "Do you honestly think you practising will give your team an advantage?"
"Why is that so funny?" she asked affronted, glaring heartily at Draco, whose smirk was now dangerously close to morphing into a full blown grin.
"That's hilarious. With you and Weasel on a team, the cup is ours for sure. Ravenclaw will flatten you."
"Aren't you forgetting the little part of the game where you catch the snitch? I've done that a few times now; you've never really understood how to do that, have you?" Draco's glare intensified, and Ginny swore that she saw his nostrils begin to flare. "Besides you only made the team because daddy bribed them, I made it on my own merit."
"I didn't buy my way onto the team," he said softly, the gentle volume cutting through the cool September day. "I earned it," he said gruffly as he turned away from Ginny's stunned face. "Get off my pitch, Weasley."
Ginny watched as he strode, his head held high, to the boys change rooms. Something about the way he said it, with such weariness, made Ginny vehemently believe that Malfoy had earned his spot on the team, despite the assumptions of the school. She felt a wave of guilt crash upon her as he disappeared from view. Slowly, she made her way off the pitch, the rest of the Slytherin team filing past her with sneers and accusations of play nicking.
With a quick Scourgify, she replaced Harry's broom in its spot in Professor Umbridge's office. She fastened the manacles, careful to leave the broom just as she had found it, all the while glancing frequently at the Marauders Map she had 'borrowed' from Harry. Still mulling over the last moments of her conversation with Malfoy, Ginny made her way back to Gryffindor Tower, threw the map back in Harry's trunk and grabbed her book bag to finish her potions essay.
She was in the library, just finishing the conclusion on the effects of newt versus salamander eyes in potions, when she felt an arm snake around her waist. She turned to face Michael, giving him a quick peck on the lips in greeting.
"Sorry, Michael," she started apologetically. "I need about another ten to finish this off and then I have a piano lesson."
Michael pouted at her, wrapping his arms further around her waist, turning her to him. "What if I give you a hand with the essay-" Ginny raised her eyebrows at him. He may have been a Ravenclaw, but potions was definitely not his best subject. "Hey, I did the same assignment last year, I still have it in my dorm." Ginny rolled her eyes at that admission. "If I owl it to you, you can go through it and benefit from Snape's rather harsh comments … after your lesson, which would give you ten minutes right now to devote to me."
Ginny retuned his grin, deviously. "That does sound like a good plan," she breathed, leaning towards him.
"And," Michael added, his lips, brushing Ginny's lightly as he spoke through a nefarious grin, "it is a well known fact that you need relaxation time when studying."
"Well if it's a fact."
Thirty minutes later, Ginny skidded to a halt outside the music room, breathing heavily. Malfoy stood lazily against the door, a disdainful expression staring down at her.
"You're late."
"I was working on a potions essay," she panted.
"Do try not to wheeze over me," Draco sneered down at her distastefully. "I don't fancy Corner's slobber being spat all over me, along with whatever diseases you naturally carry."
GMGMGMGMGMG
"So yeah, like I said, the whole year was basically like that," Ginny continued to a captive Angie. "Snipping and insults. I suppose it did all become a tad more light-hearted as we got used to each other, but mostly he didn't want to be civil."
"Sounds like you gave as good as you got," Angie said with an annoyingly knowing grin. If Ginny hadn't known better, she would have thought that Angie thought that she was just as much to blame for the animosity between them as Draco was.
"Well, I wasn't going to be a bloody push over, was I?" Ginny stated indignantly, ignoring the fact that Angie was still looking at her like she could see through her somehow.
Ginny didn't like that look. It made her uncomfortable that someone might know something about her that she didn't recognise; like they could read her thoughts.
Ginny busied herself with refilling her still half full glass of red wine as an excuse to look away from Angie, and dove back into her story.
She had told this story twice already in recent months, but it felt different somehow with Angie. She could tell her everything if she wanted. She wasn't regulated by the fact she was talking to a Muggle, or her brother, and thus editing the story where necessary. It didn't feel as fresh anymore, either. There wasn't anything to be lost or gained from telling Angie her story. Ginny wasn't going to fall apart and Angie wasn't going to stop being her friend by the time she got to the end.
Angie already knew all about the world she had left behind and she wouldn't be as hypocritical and judgemental as her brothers' would have been about her relationships with Harry and Draco. She knew they didn't mean to be, they just couldn't help it; she was their baby sister. And the thing about being the baby was they only saw what they wanted to see. She was always little Ginny. The little sister who they spoiled and teased.
They tried to protect and shield her from everything they deemed inappropriate and refused to recognise the slew of things they should have helped her with. They didn't notice she had no friends in her first year, they only noticed that she was a bit peaky and put it down to her missing mum and dad. They didn't notice that she had grown up, only that boys with questionable motives had started bothering her. But perhaps the worst thing about being the baby of the family was that each of her brothers expected so much of her; each had a different idea of what she could be. She had been so afraid of disappointing them all.
"Everything changed at the end of the year though," Ginny continued hurriedly, watching the wine meld seamlessly into the liquid already in her glass. "I don't think he couldn't believe that I'd actually hexed him. He stared up at me in disbelief as his own bogeys attacked him. It was kind of funny."
GMGMGMGMGM
Draco settled himself in Umbridge's chair, his feet resting on her desk, twirling Harry's wand between his fingers, taunting them.
"You're slime, Malfoy," Ginny spat, still trying to stomp on the feet of the much larger girl holding her captive. "How can you be helping her?"
"My father believes that Professor Umbridge is the best thing to happen to Hogwarts in a long time. Already she's starting purging the school of … unsavoury characters."
"For the love of Merlin, Malfoy!" Ginny yelled, staring at Malfoy motionless. She felt her captor release her grip slightly, as Ginny stopped trying to break her toes and shins. "Have you ever had an original thought in your life? Or are you that under the thumb of daddy that you just do what he tells you? Little Death Eater in training?"
Draco's smirk fell, morphing into a fierce scowl. Pointedly, he picked up the four wands that had been confiscated and slipped them into his robe pocket along with Harry and Hermione's wand.
"Bring her here," he barked at the large sixth year holding Ginny as he moved around to the front of Umbridge's desk.
Ginny stumbled forward to the sounds of Ron renewing his fight for freedom with newfound vigour. Draco grabbed Ginny's arm and pinned it behind her.
"Always following Potter, aren't you?" Draco whispered angrily into her ear as he held her wand arm tightly behind her back, her other braced on Umbridge's desk.
"Jealous?" sneered Ginny quietly.
"Only in my nightmares," Draco scoffed, pulling her arm a little further.
Ginny inhaled sharply. From the corner of her eye, she could see him smirking. The bastard was enjoying this!
"Let me go," Ginny snapped, suddenly struggling against his hold.
Draco laughed, acting as a cue for the other Slytherins in the room, and pushed Ginny further into the desk, his chest flush against her back.
Slowly Ginny extended her free arm back towards Draco, her fingertips brushing the tips of the wands he had hastily stuffed in his pocket. Just a little further.
After a moment of indecision, Ginny pushed back slightly against Draco, his startled gasp masking the sounds of the wands knocking against each other. Grasping the wands firmly, she wrenched them from his pocket. Quickly finding hers, she let the other spray out across the room, and she cursed Malfoy with a yell.
Malfoy fell backwards, releasing Ginny in his panic as bat bogies flew around his head.
As Draco flailed around on the floor, swatting at his own bogies, Bulstrode screeched and threw a well aimed hex at Ginny. She threw herself to the ground beside Malfoy to avoid it, a few of his bogeys rushed viciously past her face. She gasped as she felt the bogeys gouge the skin of her check, surprised at the force at which they hit her. She stole a quick concerned glance at Malfoy, and noticed he was, although still thrashing, quite blood free.
Ginny clambered to her feet as Ron managed to break Warrington's hold on him and dove for his wand, stunning the larger boy who crashed down upon him. Refocusing her attention on the burgeoning duel, she took aim and stunned the boy –who was apparently unsure as to what to do now that duelling had broken out- still holding onto Luna. Freed from her captor, Luna calmly dropped to all fours to find her wand. Straightening up, she sent a stunner towards Crabbe, hitting him in the face.
"There you go, Neville," she said lightly as if Ginny and Ron weren't frantically blocking hexes from Bulstrode and the sixth year girl who had been holding Ginny.
Bulstrode turn her wand on Neville, "Petrif-" she began in a shriek.
"Expelliarmus," Ron bellowed, her wand flying from her hand.
Bulstrode looked momentarily stunned at being disarmed, before continuing her attack on Neville, curling a fist and punching him in the face. He staggered backwards, clutching his eye and stumbled into one of Umbridge's plush, pink arm chairs. Bulstrode continued to advance upon him, her face contorted into an ugly scowl.
"Impedimenta," Neville croaked, slowing the descent of Bulstrode's body, giving him the time to wiggle out the way of her attack, and throw a slightly off target stunner at the sixth year girl who had previously been holding Ginny. The hex clipped her shoulder with enough force to send her to the ground.
"Stupefy," Ginny yelled as the sixth year began to climb shakily to her feet, her left arm limp.
"I think there must be a Crumple-Horned Snorkack infestation in this room," Luna said matter-of-factly, tucking her wand behind her ear. "That's the only explanation to why they would have reacted the way they did," she said, gesturing to the fallen Slytherins around her.
Ginny, Neville and Ron stared at her in disbelief.
GMGMGMGM
"I remember reading about that," Angie interrupted. "Mum sent me the Prophet. You fought Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic, right?"
Ginny nodded. "Lucius Malfoy broke my ankle, the bastard. Neville was so good in that battle. Knew he had it in him."
"He was that podgy boy who kept losing his toad, wasn't he?" Angie questioned. "Won the house cup for Gryffindor one year?"
"That's our Neville," Ginny said proudly as the baby monitor in front of them, flashed and garbled cries came through the white plastic.
"Aren't you going to go see her?" Ginny asked as Angie stayed sitting on the couch, looking at her expectantly, waiting for her to finish her story.
"Not yet. She'll probably calm down in a minute, anyway." Ginny sat apprehensively for the next few minutes, sure her breathing was loud enough to rouse the baby down the hall.
"See," Angie said as the cries calmed down leaving the room in silence and the lights on the plastic became dull once more. "She's started sleeping through the night now."
"Are you sure?" Ginny asked worriedly, craning her neck as if to see through closed doors, almost rising herself off the couch.
"Why don't you go check on her if you're worried," Angie said, laughter lacing her words.
"How will I know if she's okay?" Ginny asked, eyes wide, though she had already risen to her feet. Angie sighed dramatically, a bright smile lighting up her features.
"We'll both go then."
Quietly the two women pushed open the door and entered Harriet's room, the pale pink walls a backdrop to the wooden cot, a mobile of pastel sheep hanging over head.
"See," Angie whispered, stroking her daughter's dark hair and staring down at her lovingly. "Perfectly fine."
Ginny edged closer, stepping slowly and lightly, she peered into the cot, noting the slow rise and fall of the baby's small chest. "Perfect," Ginny repeated.
Angie smiled at her and breaking contact with Harriet's head almost reluctantly, she led Ginny out of the room.
"So come on tell me," Angie prodded, keeping her voice down despite her assurances that Harriet wouldn't wake for anything less than an epic duel.
"I didn't see him properly until the train home."
GMGMGMGMG
Ginny walked through the train having just said a rather wordless goodbye to Dean, her mind teeming with thoughts of Malfoy. She hadn't seen him since the battle at the Ministry past the glares he gave her on the rare occasions that they passed each other in the corridors.
"Ginny, Ginny, hey Ginny!" Colin called from behind her.
"Hey Colin," Ginny said with a smile. "Lost Dennis yet?"
"Nah, he's got a compartment already with a few friends, I was just wondering if you heard what happened to Malfoy?"
"Malfoy?" Ginny asked, her throat suddenly feeling tight. "No, what?"
Colin's face broke into a large grin. "Harry, Ron and a whole bunch of DA members hexed him, Crabbe and Goyle for having a go at Harry. I wanted to get a picture, but I don't know what compartment they're in."
"Sorry I can't help you, Col," Ginny answered. "But do you really want to get a photo of it? Malfoy will kill you."
"But it would be worth it!"
Ginny laughed at his enthusiasm. "You want to share a compartment with me. I'm off to join Ron and Harry now?"
"No, thanks. I better get back to Dennis. He'll want to hear all about it. Have a good summer, Ginny." He gave her a quick hug before rushing down the corridor and disappearing into the crowd of people still clamouring for a compartment.
"Hey guys," she greeted, as she closed the compartment behind her.
"Hello Ginny," Hermione replied, barely looking up from the copy of the Prophet she was reading. Neville waved at her smiling and Luna sent her a large, smile. "Have you seen Harry and Ron?" Hermione asked, "They should have been back by now."
"Colin said they were off hexing Malfoy."
"What?" Hermione cried, throwing her paper to her lap, glaring up at Ginny.
"Just what Colin told me," Ginny laughed, throwing up her arms as if to show she was unarmed.
"Maybe the Cranker Jonks have delayed them, Hermione," Luna offered consolingly, still stoking Neville's Mibulus mimbletonia which was crooning in delight, well, at least Neville said it was delight.
"Yeah 'Mione," Ginny said, sharing an amused look with Neville, and suppressing giggles, "Maybe the Cranker Jonks held them up."
Hermione went back to the Prophet without another word, occasionally letting out a sigh of frustration and turning the pages with what Ginny thought was excessive force.
"Oi Ginny, you should have seen it!" Ron cried as he burst into the compartment, arms laden with Cauldron Cakes, with Harry close behind, both delighting, though Harry a little less jovial at having bested Malfoy than usual, in giving all the gory details of their encounter with Malfoy. They ignored Hermione's periodic harrumphing noise whilst she hid her small smile behind her paper. "It was gold. It may even be better than the Bat Bogey Hex … or that time 'Mione slapped him," Ron finished excitedly. "I've had such a good day."
Ginny sat slightly bored later as she completed a quiz in the Quibbler to determine whether her love life was subject to the whims of a hoard of Morkel Nuffs, Hermione's voice occasionally interrupting her concentration. Her ears pricked as Ron voiced lowered slightly. Realising they were only talking about Harry's relationship with Cho, she was about to turn her attention to the last question of the quiz when she heard Hermione tentatively inform the boys that Cho was seeing someone else now.
She hid a smile as Ron asked who she was seeing now.
"Michael Corner," Ginny offered, finishing the quiz happily.
"Michael?" Ron asked, leaning so far forward in his seat to see her that Ginny was afraid he was going to fall to the floor. "But-but you were going out with him!"
"Not anymore," Ginny answered decisively. "He didn't like Gryffindor beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch, and got really sulky, so I ditched him and he ran off to comfort Cho instead." She hid a smug smile as she caught sight of Ron's delighted face, a wide grin covering his face from ear to ear.
"Well, I always thought he was a bit of an idiot," he said happily, as Ginny made a small noise of agreement and flipped The Quibbler upside down to mark her answers. "Good for you. Just choose someone – better – next time," he said throwing a significant look at Harry. Ginny rolled her eyes behind her magazine.
"Well, I've chosen Dean Thomas. Would you say he's better?" Ginny asked vaguely, suppressing a smirk.
"WHAT?" shouted Ron, sending the chessboard flying. Crookshanks darted across the compartment after the indignant pieces; Hedwig hooted angrily at the disturbance as Pig twittered loudly and attempted to fly out of his cage but only succeeded in clanging loudly against the steel.
'Well, I think I might just go to the bathroom," Ginny said pleasantly, handing the Quibbler back to Luna, walking off with a new found sense of jauntiness. There was no finer game than riling up Ron, she thought with a smirk, Ron's indignant spluttering following her down the corridor. He never failed to deliver.
Exiting the bathroom, Ginny wandered aimlessly through the corridors, killing time while Hermione calmed Ron down. While riling Ron up was a joy she and the twins regularly engaged in, the aftermath always grated on her nerves. He was like a dog with a bone; chewing and chewing until the bone splintered and snapped. Taking a breath, Ginny decided to find Malfoy; she doubted anyone had bothered to reverse the curses flung at him yet.
She peeked into compartments as she passed, trying to remember where Ron and Harry said they had left him. She back-pedalled as she noticed a seemingly empty compartment. Opening the door she heard a rustling noise. Looking up, her face broke into a grin as she saw Malfoy stuffed uncomfortably in the luggage rack, his robes wrapped haphazardly around him. She closed the compartment door quickly, and pulled down the blind, blocking them from the view of any passers-by.
"You see, Malfoy," she said softly, levitating him down from the luggage rack. "This is what happens when you take the cowards' way out. Are those boils?"
She smiled as she began to remove the various curses that had been inflicted on him. He probably deserved it.
"Get away from me, Weasley," he snarled as he regained full use of his extremities causing Ginny to abruptly stop waving her wand over him, and muttering counter curses. "I don't need your help."
"So you were going to un-hex yourself?" she asked, her temper riling.
"Why don't you just run along and go find your little stand in Thomas or whoever you have on the go now and leave me alone," he spat, pulling himself to his feet and straighten his crumpled robes.
"What the hell is that suppose to mean?" she asked indignantly, resisting as he hauled her to her feet and tried to force her from the compartment.
"Haven't you noticed a trend with your little playthings? They all happen to have dark hair, be a year older than you, and be a little on the short side. What a pity they don't need glasses, you may have given it up a bit easier," he sneered acidly, his eyes, cold and hard, boring into hers.
"You prick," she said softly, tears welling in her eyes. "You fucking prick."
"So full of compliments today," he said sarcastically. "Why don't you run along back to Potter? I'm sure he's getting a little warm without his shadow blocking the sun for him."
Ginny turned and stormed out of the compartment before he could have the satisfaction of knowing he made her cry. She heard the compartment door close with a slam and an angry growl that seemed to echo through the corridor.
She blockaded herself in the bathroom, trying valiantly to stem the flow of tears with deep, gasping breaths.
Bastard, she thought as she collected herself, turning the tap and watching the cool stream of water flow into the basin, and disappear in a whirl down the sink. Washing her face, Ginny took a deep breath and excited the bathroom, making her way back to her compartment. Right bloody bastard.
GMGMGMGMG