A/N: Thankyou to reviewers! Iloveyou… D

Draco starts to feel for someone… ooh.

Disclaimer: I am not lucky enough to as smart as to invent these characters myself. They are not mine. Too bad. –pout-

The Stone Speaks

Fourteen: Coincidences and Shattered Bone Structures

DRACO

With November came the first Quidditch match of the term – Slytherin versus Gryffindor. What a coincidence, Draco couldn't help thinking as his mind flashed back to Ginny. He hadn't wanted to go to the match at all, due to his touchiness about being kicked off of the Slytherin team, but Ginny had pleaded and, eventually, refused to talk to him until he agreed to go.

The days were already noticeably colder, and so when Draco left Charms class he donned a silver-and-green scarf emblazoned with a coiling snake (appropriate, he thought, for cheering on the Slytherins). He was soon caught in a chaotic bustle of students, teachers, and background staff alike in their rush for getting the best seats. It was raining, which turned to shouting to a general screeching as everyone tried to get to shelter, away from the mud that now had taken place of any solid ground.

Draco wasn't one of the early ones who left their seats in class before the teacher had even finished assigning homework, and so he got a fairly bad seat, cramped, near the back. Several of the taller ones were unfairly placed in front, so that slightly shorter Draco couldn't actually see very well.

On the direct other side of the pitch were the Gryffindors: a swarming sea of red and gold, billowing and waving as each individual stood or sat or started to sing. Draco scanned the crowd for a glimpse of red hair, but amongst the amount of red that wasn't Ginny Weasley's hair, it was impossible.

Madam Hooch, the Quidditch referee and flying teacher, soared into the centre, and, with a hoot of her whistle, called the players around her. Green-clad, there was Blaise, Flint… his replacement, a scrawny black-haired third-year called Alex Tallow, and various other new teamplayers whom Draco didn't know. Then, red-clad, the Gryffindors. Potter, smirking arrogantly for England. Ginny's brother, looking as if he might be sick. Two bludgers who had replaced Ginny's twin brothers, who Draco didn't know, one chaser who Draco didn't recognize, and a third chaser who he knew as Seamus Finnigan.

"Sorry I'm late," could be heard faintly above the chatter, and the third chaser zoomed into sight. Draco saw the flaming ponytail, fanning out, before he saw the heart-shaped face and the cheeky grin.

"Ginny," he whispered, a diminutive smile appearing on his lips. Luckily, he was drowned out by the roaring off the crowd, and he leaned forwards in his seat to see her better.

"Now, I want a good, clean game," Madam Hooch said briskly. "The slightest of mishaps, and there'll be trouble! Now… on my mark… play!"

A blur of burgundy was the Quaffle being hurled into the air, and the players were darting away; Potter and Tallow circling like birds of prey, Ginny, Finnigan, Flint, and the others whirling away with the Quaffle.

"Aaand it's Ginny Weasley with the Quaffle, look at her go! Flint trying something ugly, will it work, will it work – Aah, that was close!" Colin Creevey was bellowing, excited as usual (more so than ever, with his new position as commentator), waving his microphone around. "Ginny is unstoppable tonight! There she goes, good pass to Finnigan, swirling past Hill, and then ooohhh Hill's got it, marching up the pitch like a storm!"

Draco's attention was fleeting between Hill, who he was cheering for, and Ginny, who he was beaming for. It was hard to see through the blinding rain, but he focused on Hill in time to see the Quaffle whoosh between Ron Weasley's fumbling, outstretched arms, and "YESSSS!" Draco screamed with a million other Slytherins, leaping out of his seat and punching the air madly.

Weasley's face was scarlet to match his hair as he lobbed the Quaffle back into play. Ginny was off again, hair and robes snapping back in the wind, then Seamus, soaring away, Flint attacking mady –

"SNITCH!" Ginny suddenly screamed, spinning insanely to catch Potter's attention. Then the pitch was a smudge of colour as all chasers, seekers, and beaters went in a fury trying to get the snitch, find the snitch for the seekers, or get the snitch away from the seekers.

Draco's attention cracked to Potter and Tallow, watching the world smear with insanity. Then, Potter's hand, frantically scrabbling for the Snitch, reaching, closing around the tiny golden ball –

SMACK

A sickening crunch filled the pitch, pursued shortly by a concurrent gasp as Harry Potter moaned, reeled backwards off of his broom, and plummeted earthwards.

"HARRY!" It was Ginny, the longest, most anguished, desperate cry that Draco had ever heard; Draco looked at the younger girl, shooting, streamlined, towards the ground, firing down in the fastest Wronski Feint that Draco had ever seen – and he had been to the World Cup to see Viktor Krum play from Bulgaria.

Then her slim arms were around Harry's torso as he fell, and managed to slow him enough that he merely landed with a painful thud instead of splatting across the sand-pit like a tomato that has been stood on. Ginny was bent across him, her face gauntly pale as she tried to bring him around.

Draco found that he was at the front of the stand, leaning over as far as he could without falling, despairingly staring down towards the Gryffindor team curled around Potter. In the centre was Ginny and Potter, clinging to each other in his agony.

Draco watched in horror as the majority of the Quidditch team fled to fetch Madam Pomfrey, leaving just Ginny and her brother with Potter. Ginny was saying something; Draco couldn't hear. And as she watched over her boyfriend concernedly, a strange feeling possessed him.

If I fell and nearly killed myself, would Ginny care as much? he wondered to himself, and as Madam Pomfrey carted the invalid away, with Ginny following closely, Draco found him totally confused as to why seeing Ginny so desperately worried for Harry Potter made his stomach hurt.

The match was cancelled – it couldn't continue without a seeker – and Draco hurried up to the Hospital Wing to see Ginny. He knew that she would be watching over Harry, and he anxiously wanted to see her and know that she was okay after the tough match.

As Draco neared the Wing, he realized that he would most definitely not be welcome there. Potter, the Weasleys, and other numerous Gryffindors, probably would not appreciate his support. He was unsure what to do, and shuffled impatiently beside the grand doors.

If someone comes out, what do I do, Draco thought nervously. I'll say... er…

"Why are you here?" someone demanded. "I didn't think you'd be one to worry about Harry's health." It was Seamus Finnigan, the Gryffindor chaser. Damn, say something!

"Um, I'm waiting for Madam Hooch," Draco lied hastily. "She is in there with Potter, isn't she?" Yes! Score one to Malfoy. "I need to ask her a question about my broomstick."

Finnigan glared. "She's not in there. You're wasting your time waiting for her," he said darkly, and stalked away. Draco let out a breath of relief, slumping against the wall.

"Aw, and there I was, thinking you were waiting for me," said a female voice. Draco, surprised, turned, and saw a sweaty, drenched, dishevelled, but beautiful, Ginny Weasley.

Draco smiled weakly. "Now why would I do a thing like that?" he joked, then, more serious: "How's Potter?"

Ginny's face grew grim. "He's snapped just about every bone in his body and he refuses to wake up or co-operate with any functional tests on his nervous system," she said gravely.

"English, please?"

"He's unconscious, and he's having to regrow his entire skeleton," Ginny translated, a humourless smirk growing on her pale features.

Draco bit his lower lip. "Ouch," he sympathised, "and… and – how are you?" It took a lot of effort out of his to be so openly anxious, after all of his guardedness.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Apparently, I'm not allowed any more Quidditch for a month because I've fractured my left elbow and sprained my wrist because of catching Harry pretty much out of the sky," she murmured.

Draco raised his eyebrows. "You should still be in there, getting cleaned up," he said pointedly.

Ginny shrugged. "I heard voices outside," she grinned, "plus, I'm not getting any attention in their because Harry's stealing the limelight, what with his shattered bone structure and all."

"You should go back inside," Draco insisted, nudging her in the direction of the Hospital Wing. "Go on."

Ginny poked her tongue out at him cheekily. "I'm not going back in," she said determinedly, "anyway, even if I was having a bloody baby, they'd put me second-priority to the Boy Who Lived." Draco might have been imagining it, but he heard a little more than a trace of derisive scorn in the sixteen-year-old's tone of voice.

"Well, what are you going to do, then?" Draco said, folding his arms. Ginny grabbed his elbow and pulled him towards the stairs.

"Come on," she said, "I'm starving. Let's get some toast from Great Hall. I didn't have any breakfast; I had to get up at six in the morning and train like hell."

Draco nodded, despite his strong feelings that Ginny was unwell and should be resting, and headed amiably down the many stairwells to awaiting food. Descending the final set of stairs, Ginny suddenly stopped dead.

"What is it?" Draco asked, bewildered, looking at his friend's filthy, frozen face. He followed her gaze, and saw an equally dirt-covered Weasley at the bottom of the stairs.

"Ginevra. Weasley." Ron said, suddenly dangerously calm, eyes narrowed. "What are you doing away from the Hospital Wing?"

Ginvera? "Ginny," Draco hissed urgently in her ear, trying to tug her away, back up the stairs, but she wouldn't budge from her position, dripping mud and slime onto the smooth, marble steps.

And then Ron was in front of them, seizing Ginny's shoulders. "Get the hell away from her!" he snarled, pulling his little sister away. Before Draco could even apologize or shout a farewell, Ginny was gone, disappeared through a painting or a tapestry, shooting one final 'sorry' glance at him before vanishing.

Draco stared at the empty space where she had been a moment ago, before sinking onto the top stair and looking down at the Entrance Hall doors, feeling more desolate than ever.