Author's Note: Warning: Major OOC-ness. I mean, it makes me sick. Really sick. I hate this story. Someone shoot it. Or me. Please?
Disclaimer: Not mine if it belongs to J.K.Rowling, if it doesn't, it is mine.
The Hogwarts Renaissance
Chapter Twenty-One: Pain and Confusion
Everything was white.
Ginny quickly closed her eyes, pain screaming sonnets in her head. Beyond that, she could almost make out the voices surrounding her. They were digging into her brain, slamming into her without mercy. Blackness once again filled her mind and her limbs went limp once more.
Pansy was the only one who noticed. Her hand tightened on Ginny's, shaking it urgently. "Ginny? Ginny?" she asked, voice rising as she tried in vain to wake her up again. Snape came over from the small conference of professors in the corner of the hospital wing to place a hand on Pansy's shoulder.
"Pansy…" he said, calling upon his unused resources of gentility. "…she's not waking up." He said carefully. Pansy's head slumped down onto the bed; she felt like screaming. She hadn't moved from Ginny's side since she'd followed Snape, Odekerk, and Dumbledore to the hospital wing and found her only real friend comatose and battered.
It was hell…like Erom all over again. Pansy was losing the only people who mattered to her. Tears were plastering the sheets to her face. "Why won't she wake up?" she rasped into the sheets.
Snape sighed, sinking onto the foot of the cot wearily. "We're not sure. With Poppy gone... her wounds have been healed…even without the expertise of Madame Pomfrey… she won't stir."
Pansy stared at her friend's face. "She doesn't want to wake up." She said softly. "It's too much for her." She whirled on Snape, ignoring the tears streaming down her face. "It was Him, wasn't it? Voldemort? He's the only one she's scared of. He did this…"
Snape shook his oily head. "It can't be. He's too weak…he hasn't been heard of for months." Pansy bit her lip, holding back more tears. "You do know what people will think, don't you?" he said suddenly. Pansy glanced up at him quizzically.
"Ginny's not attacking students." she said defensively. Snape sighed. "I know it's hard for you to understand, but-" Pansy leapt from her chair. "NO!" she screamed, making heads turn towards her. "I don't care what proof you have, she didn't do it! She didn't attack those students and she didn't kill Madame Pomfrey!"
Snape flinched and Pansy's jaw dropped open, her hand shaking as it came up to cover it. "That's it?" she breathed in the absolute silence. "You think she killed Madame Pomfrey?" The silence was all the answer she needed.
A tear fell from her cheek and landed on Ginny's palm. Slowly, as if in a dream, pale fingers curled over the teardrop. Pansy dropped to her knees by the bed, grasping the hand. "Ginny?" she asked, hope pounding in her chest like that which she had never had a chance for with Erom.
Ginny's eyes cracked open faintly, the lids swollen and bluish, bags forming under her eyes. Her head tilted back and a grimace of pain crossed her face. Her mouth opened, and dry, cracked, but no sound issued. Sweat formed on her brow as she struggled with words.
"D-d-id-n't..." she breathed with difficulty, hands fisting, veins popping from her neck and forehead "…k-kill…" Pansy placed her wand to Ginny's temple. "Stupefy." She whispered gently before Snape could stop her. Ginny's body relaxed and she sank back into a grateful sleep.
"I know, Ginny. I know."
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
By Wednesday, everyone was talking of the events of Monday. Most of the rumours being passed around were incredibly wrong, but some were surprisingly accurate. Hart came Wednesday morning and sat down next to Hermione, who was reading the Daily Prophet, scanning it for news of the attack. There had been nothing printed on Tuesday and she was beginning to wonder what they were trying to hide.
Hart was scowling heavily as she sat down. "They still won't let me down to see her." She grumbled, stabbing at the sausage that appeared on her plate. "I'm her friend and they won't let me go see her."
Harry and Ron entered the Great Hall at that moment. Ron's ears were bright red and Harry looked like he was restraining Ron from once again doing something stupid. The sat down across from Hermione and Hart. Ron grabbed a scone and stuffed it angrily into his mouth.
"What now?" Hermione asked impatiently, setting down her newspaper. Ron, incapable of speech, nodded to Harry. He rolled his eyes. "Some Hufflepuff nitwits were talking about Ginny…saying she never recovered from our second year." Ron was growling around his scone now. "They think she's still trying to do the bidding of Voldemort…" Harry glanced worriedly at Ron "…they said she killed Madame Pomfrey."
Hermione looked up. "What?" she hissed. Harry nodded, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "But she couldn't have…" Hart mused. Ron slammed his hand on the table, startling a few people. "Of course she couldn't have!" he exclaimed loudly. "It's ridiculous!"
He stormed off, bumping into a few Hufflepuffs on the way.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………………………
The hospital wing was absolutely silent.
No longer did Madame Pomfrey's snores pierce the silence from her office room. Everything sounded dead, lifeless. Draco slipped through the door to the hospital wing, letting it close gently. His bare feet found the stone floor freezing, but he made no noise as he made his way over to the closed-off cots.
Finding Ginny's, he sunk down into the chair that Pansy had been sitting in the day before. Draco's hand, pale and thin, snaked out and slipped into hers, paler and smaller. Her heart was beating regularly, but shallowly. Stupid chit…making him think he loved her…
Her eyelids were a deadly-looking purple, crimson veins streaking up to her eyebrows, one of which looking like it had been sewn together like cloth. Her lips were white and dry, the corners sore and red. Her entire face was white except for the edges of her nostrils and around her mouth and eyes. Her arms were limp and looked frail poking out awkwardly from the tent-like hospital gown.
Draco bent down, his face near hers. "Stupid cow. What have you done?" he whispered into her ear, smoothing her hair absent-mindedly. She didn't move. "Wake up." He commanded, patting her cheek. She still didn't move. This was ridiculous; there was nothing wrong with her. She was just stubbornly refusing to open her eyes. She was playing with him, just like before…making him feel things that weren't real.
"Come on, now Weasley, open your eyes and stop playing around." Her chest was barely rising with each breath. Annoyed, anger began running a wild path through Draco's veins as he grabbed her shoulders roughly. "Wake up!" he shook her shoulders, pulling her from the bed into a sitting position.
He stopped shaking her. Her head lolled back, unsupported, her mouth hanging slightly open; her arms hung limp by her sides. He looked at her, more vulnerable than he had ever seen her before. She looked so…pathetic.
Draco hated pathetic. "Weasley…" he hissed, rising from his seat and dragging her up with him. She was like a rag doll in his arms. "Weasley, wake up…" he held her up and tried standing her on her feet. Her legs wouldn't support her weight. "Ginevra Weasley, you'd better wake your arse up, or so help me Salazar…" he trailed off.
His heart was pounding…in his head for some reason. The roar of each beat was like that of a wave ending its life with a crash upon jagged rocks. She was starting to get on his nerves. "Wake up, damnit." He nearly yelled, his grasp tightening on her arms.
A tiny line appeared on her brow and her mouth turned down the slightest fraction. Growling angrily, Draco slid one arm under her back and without another word slapped her across the face. A small noise escaped Ginny's lips as a red handprint appeared on her cheek.
Draco pulled away, looking down at her expectantly. She was just as unconscious as before, her head rolling to the side. And suddenly, unpredictably, a tear appeared on her cheek. And even more unpredictably, it was not hers.
Draco dropped her in shock. Her body crumpled to the floor with a thump, one hand hitting the floor lifelessly. His hand was shaking as he lifted it to his face. His cheeks…they were wet.
He glanced down at her in horror. Her eyes were squeezed shut tightly and her hands fisted. Her legs were moving restlessly as if in a bad dream. Draco stepped back as her eyes flickered; once, twice, thrice…they opened on the fourth try.
But by then Draco was gone, and the door to the hospital wing was swinging shut lazily.
………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Blaise slammed his feet down onto the floor, standing from the chair he'd been sitting in for the past half an hour in front of the fireplace in the Slytherin common rooms. "That's it." He stated, swinging his cloak on. Riley looked up from her Potions homework.
"He's only been out there a few hours." She commented unemotionally.
"One; it's freezing out there, two; he's been out there all night. That's a few hours too long." He said, pulling on dragonhide boots. Riley put down her notes, turning her head to the large floor-to-ceiling window-mirror behind her, which showed a scene of the grounds outside since the dungeons were below ground. Blaise glanced up from tying his boots. "What is he doing out there?" he asked.
Riley turned back to him, tightening her scarf. "Still pacing. What's wrong with him?" she asked, scratching out something on her parchment. Blaise shrugged, getting to his feet. "He didn't tell me."
Delia leaned over the side of the chair she was in. "I think it has something to do with that Weasley chit. He's been acting weird every time someone mentions her. He beat up this little punk-arse fifth year Hufflepuff for calling the girl Voldemort's whore."
Riley shook her head. "But he didn't go running out in the snow trying to freeze himself to death then. I guarantee you, something's happened. Ten to one it has something to do with that Weasley girl." Delia shrugged, the strap of her brown top sliding off her shoulder.
Readjusting it, she went back to trying to hex off the beauty mark on her right cheek. Mal glanced over from combing Daren's hair by the fireplace. They really were a beautiful couple. Mal's eyes lit up a violet-cyan colour as she watched Delia.
"Would you stop?" she finally barked, reaching over and tugging at Delia's hand. The girl flashed her electric hazel eyes at her. "Stop what?" she spat. Mal narrowed her eyes, pulling Daren's long hair over his shoulder. "I like that mark." She said simply. "You hex it off, and I may have to kill you." She warned.
Delia rolled her eyes and out her wand away, waiting for a later time when Mal wasn't around. Blaise grinned and swept from the room. Life could be alright sometimes.
……………………………………………………………………………………………………
Draco kicked viciously at a rock half covered in snow. It rose from the ground ten feet and flew another twenty before burying itself in a snow drift. His foot now throbbing painfully, Draco resumed pacing a hole in the ground.
"Impressive. You should have been a Beater."
Draco whirled around. Pansy was sitting, her legs crossed, on a petrified tree stump, an emerald scarf wrapped around her neck. Draco growled. He hadn't forgotten that one emasculating morning.
"What do you want, Parkinson?" he sneered. Pansy frowned. "I had to stop by the hospital wing this morning for something and guess who was wide awake?" Draco ignored her, sullenly pouting… in a mature way, of course.
"Weasley's conscious and doing relatively well. Except for one thing; the way she woke up has her very confused." Pansy said, examining her nails critically. Draco stayed silent.
"It really was very strange, the way she woke up…would you like to hear about it?" She didn't wait for his answer; he wouldn't have given it, anyway. "It seems she'd been in a dead sort of dreamless sleep when all of a sudden she felt this cracking pain on her face, like the bite of a thousand tiny Fire Crabs on her cheek." She stared at him pointedly, not quite glaring, but certainly not grinning cheerily.
"And then the oddest thing of all- she felt the strangest sensation…how did she put it…oh yes, like falling from a broom with a blindfold on. She woke after she hit the ground. Sporting a pretty bruise on her cheekbone, she is."
Draco felt a tiny prick of something indescribable in his chest that he pushed aside, still attempting to ignore her. Pansy was glaring at him now. "Well? Haven't you got something to say?" she asked, folding her arms across her chest.
Draco snarled at her. "Why should I have anything to say to you? And about the little Weasel at that?" Pansy's face flushed with anger. "I seem to recall you having quite a lot of interest in the little Weasel…but aside from that, I want to know what you did to her last night. I'm glad she's awake, but I don't bloody like the idea of you being alone with her late at night, especially with her unconscious, so spit it out."
Draco glared at her. "Who are you to tell me what to do?" Pansy frowned…but it was almost a disappointed frown, as if she'd been expecting more of him. Why should she? He was a Malfoy, after all.
Pansy stood, brushing snowflakes from her hair. "Well, excuse me, I thought perhaps you might have grown up a little. I was mistaken." She turned and stormed off, nearly running into Blaise.
The handsome black-haired boy stared after the angry woman before turning to Draco.
"What did I miss?"
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………
Velixandre sighed as she slumped into her chair, resting her head on her desk. It had been such a long day…no, a long week was more accurate. She still couldn't believe one of their own was gone forever.
Poppy's body had been turned over to her sister just that morning and just seeing the shining maple coffin had pounded into Velixandre's brain that this was no nightmare…it was real. Even more real was Velixandre's duty of watching after some baby that was in Pomfrey's care for some reason or another…she really hoped it wasn't one of the other professor's love child. Without Pomfrey, the teachers were alternating watching the infant. Dumbledore had promised to explain, but he had greater things on his mind at the moment.
Someone was attacking and killing people and no one knew why. Dumbledore had given all but his right arm to keep news from getting out into circulation. Hogwarts had come so near to being shut down so many times…at this point, the Headmaster just wanted to get Harry Potter through his training and keep him safe as long as possible.
Although that might not be the best idea concerning the safety of everyone else. Velixandre had heard innumerable ideas as to what was happening to Hogwarts. There was one common one…having to do with Ginevra Weasley, surprisingly enough. The strong, well-liked girl was one Velixandre had least pinned for anything like this.
A soft noise startled her out of her seat, nearly knocking her chair over. Colin was sitting in one of the desks in the otherwise empty classroom, his arms crossed over his chest, and a dark scowl plastered on his face.
Heartbeat returning to normal, Velixandre strode over to her young lover.
"Oh, gods, I've had the most awful day. I can't believe-" she cut herself off, noticing how Colin was still glaring darkly at the seat in front of him. Velixandre sunk into the chair next to Colin, reaching out for his hand. "Colin, what is it?" she asked gently, rubbing her thumb over the back of his hand.
He kept staring ahead, shock and disbelief etched into his face. "Is it about Madame Pomfrey?" she asked, guessing. A sudden thought popped into her head, which she immediately shoved down, though little slivers crept back into her mind and poked at her brain. Colin…upset…Pomfrey dead…Pomfrey's baby…with…Colin certainly wouldn't…but then again, he had no qualms about bedding teachers…
Deciding she was absolutely one hundred percent paranoid, she shook her head free of such thoughts and turned her whole attention to Colin, whose mouth had opened as if to speak, even if no words had come out yet.
"She did it."
Velixandre stared at him warily. "Who?" she asked gently. Colin barely breathed. "Ginny Weasley." Velixandre arched an eyebrow. "Ginny Weasley?" she asked.
Colin finally tore his gaze away from the distance he'd been staring off into. His eyes locked with Velixandre's and she started at the intense amount of hatred in them. It sent spikes of fear down her back.
"Ginny Weasley is the Heir of Slytherin, isn't she? She attacked some students in my first year and now she's doing it again." Velixandre nodded, a little surprised that Colin listened to gossip, but understanding all the same. Although she didn't remember that being in any of the gossip she had heard. It must be difficult. From what she knew, Ginny and Colin had always gotten along well enough.
"It's really not her fault, you know. Don't worry; as far as I can tell Dumbledore isn't going to hold her accountable for anything that's happened so far. She's going to be fine. She was alright the first time around, right?" she asked, trying to cheer him up and wondering what the underlying surge of anger in all this was.
Colin turned to her and Velixandre's stomach dropped; the look on his face told her she'd been dreadfully mistaken. Colin stood, staring at her with a look of mixed disgust and disappointment on his face. The anger was resurfacing and Velixandre had to remind herself that as the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, she was not allowed to cower away from her students in fear.
"I should have figured. No one thinks she's responsible for any of this. She's just going to get away with this. What if I'm next, eh? What if she kills me or someone else? I don't know what sort of sick game she's playing or who she's doing this for, but I hope you lot feel guilty when one of us turns up dead next." He looked as if he was having difficulty stopping himself from spitting at her before he sneered at her and stormed off, banging the door as he left.
The classroom was utterly silent. Velixandre's tears came without a single sound and they carried on for the rest of the night.
…………………………………………………………………………………………………………..
Draco sighed. "What, Blaise?" he asked, letting his eyes slip closed. He jerked them open as the first thing that flitted across his mind's eye was an image of a banged-up Ginny Weasley hitting the floor.
Blaise was still staring off in the direction Pansy had stormed off in and he would have sworn the tracks she'd made in the snow were steaming. That girl had a lot of misplaced rage. Shaking his head, he turned to Draco.
"What have you been doing out here?" he asked, bringing his hands up to rub some warmth into his arms. Draco sneered. "None of your bloody bus-"
Silence followed his words as Blaise, uninterested, cast a silencing charm. "Shut up, Malfoy. I don't want to hear any more bullshit. Just tell me the bloody truth or I'll go find the Weaslette and get her to hex it out of you herself." He said, removing the spell.
Draco glared heartily at him for a full ten seconds before giving up and slumping down on a rock. "Fine. I went to see her, alright? I got carried away and woke her up and left. Big bloody deal, can I go home now?"
"You are home, nitwit."
"Can I go to my room then?"
"Sure, and make sure you brush your teeth well and wear some warm jim-jammers too, it's going to be cold tonight; do you want me to sing you to sleep or will your teddy bear be enough and…what are you, four!" he exploded. Draco looked very close to killing him.
"Do you care about her?" Blaise asked suddenly, all traces of mockery gone.
Draco scoffed. "Oh, now who's the child? What, are you really that naïve, or are we in some badly written romance novel?" he sneered.
"Well, you would know all about that, wouldn't you? What was it you were reading the other night…Young, Restless Hearts of Passion and Lust; A Witch's Tale of Love and Devotion?" Blaise sneered.
"What frightens me is that you know the title. But we digress…no, I do not bloody care for the nit-picking little chit, alright?" Draco growled.
"No, it's not alright. If you don't care for her, then bloody leave her alone. The girl has enough problems as it is without you chasing after her for no other reason than your own sick amusement."
Somewhere deep inside, the comment stabbed at Draco, but he covered it with a well-practiced sneer that was absolutely inherent in all Malfoys or else they were cut out of their father's will and sent to live with Muggles…or so Lucius had told Draco when he was little and sneer-free.
"Please! What problems could perfect little Ginny Weasley, the Gryffindor Angel, possibly have? The girl's more of a golden child than bloody Potter!" he scoffed. Blaise's gaze turned up to the castle. "You have no idea what you're talking about." He said stonily, keeping his back turned. The castle grounds were dark, and had been for a while. That never bothered Blaise, though. He felt safe in the darkness. He supposed it had something to do with being a Slytherin. Shadows chased each other over the darkened snow as the trees bent submissively to the icy wind.
Blaise breathed in a lungful of piercing cold air.
"You remember our second year?" He asked, staring up at the sky and watching the stars shine in welcome, familiar patterns. Draco scoffed again. "How could I forget? Everyone thought Potter had finally cracked. It was great!" he snickered and it took all of Blaise's power not to put his fist in a good place…like Malfoy's left eye socket.
"You remember someone opened the Chamber of Secrets?"
Draco nodded. "Voldy, wasn't it?" Blaise sighed. "Not quite. Voldemort was behind it…but he had help." Draco sat up straighter. "Please tell me you're about to say that Potter helped the Dark Lord attack Muggleborns. Oh, please." He pleaded, looking as if Christmas was about to be announced every day.
Blaise scowled. "No. It was someone else. Someone who was given Voldemort's old diary. Someone who didn't know what they were doing. Someone who was scared and alone and dying right before our very eyes. Someone who got that diary from your fucking father. Someone you're bloody falling for, even if you won't say it."
Draco's mouth fell open and his breath flew up into the air as a surprised gasp flickered into the night sky.
"Ginny?" he coughed out, face pale. Blaise nodded. "She nearly died, Draco. And she thinks she's doing it again. What other answer is there? What if the rumours are true, Draco? What will you do then?"
Confronted with things he didn't want to face and questions he didn't want to answer, Draco did the most sensible thing for his current, over-agitated mind-frame whose stability was questionable and was anything but serene;
He ran.
Back to the castle, to whatever comfort and solace he could find far from the things he'd heard but never more than a thought away.
He wasn't the only one.
Shadows raced up the sloping snow-covered grounds as night gave way to mystery and deceit and fear and insecurity. Sleep was a fable that night and just as intangible as any muggle fairy tale with princes and sorceresses and knights and true love. The castle was under a spell, and no magic words could remove it. Tucked safely in its stone confines, several students lay awake that night, their thoughts revolving so succinctly and closely that they could have shared the same thought circle, going back and forth and back and forth.
……………………………………………………………………………………….(hey, you…git…go back and read the sentence before that last paragraph…it's important)
Ginny sighed, allowing herself to be engulfed in a big-brother kind of bear hug as Ron swept her off her feet and swung her around.
"Ron, you oaf, geroff! I can't bloody breathe!"
Hermione tapped Ron on the shoulder. "Ron…contrary to your beliefs, your sister is perfectly fine, but I don't think she will be if you keep squeezing her like that." Ron let go of Ginny's waist (which felt a few inches smaller) a bit sheepishly, but his face still had a stony, serious look to it.
"Are you alright, Gin?" Ron asked. Ginny gave him an odd look. "I was until you went all boa-constrictor on me. Was ickle Ronnikins afraid for his baby sister?" she was trying to be teasing, but somehow it came out affectionate.
Ron went pink and crossed his arms rebelliously over his chest.
"No."
Ginny smirked. "Git. And why the bloody hell weren't you there when I woke up? The first bloody thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Snape and that nearly sent me back into unconsciousness. Lucky Pansy was there or I might have had a cardiac arrest." Ron looked puzzled, but Harry and Hermione were suppressing laughter.
He seemed to realize he'd been asked a question after a few moments. "Oh…well, I-"
Harry snorted as they began to walk down to the common room for the night. "He couldn't be there because Snape had him polishing trophies last night." He smirked as his red-haired best friend went red and glared at him. Ginny pulled her hair out of her face. "What did you do this time, Ronald?" she asked in a voice that sounded very much like Hermione.
Ron glared ahead in stony silence. Hermione sighed. "He was a terrific prat as usual. Got into a fight with some Hufflepuff twit who was talking…" she caught herself mid-sentence and looked to Ron as if asking for permission to continue. He shrugged. "She'll find out sooner or later."
Ginny arched an eyebrow. "Find out what?" Hermione sighed, obviously loathe to be the bringer of bad news. "People have been talking. You do know what happened the night you were…well, attacked, right?" Ginny almost shivered. "Yes."
"Well, people have been talking and they're saying…oh, they're saying you did it all." She closed her mouth and eyes and looked ready for some sort of explosion.
Ginny just sighed. "I had hoped this wouldn't happen. I suppose people know about first year, then?" she asked.
Ron perked a bit. "Not yet, they don't. The only people who know about that are you, me, Hermione, and Harry. Oh, and the family. And the staff. And of course Dumbledore. And Lockhart, but he's not really in any state to tell anyone." Hermione cut Ron off with a jab in the ribs. "Ron. Shut it."
Ron looked so Ron that it was hard to be angry at him. Hermione whispered something about not helping matters and Ginny held back a snicker.
As they stepped into the common room in good cheer, the noise that had filled the room left it as if someone had cast a giant silencing spell. Ginny glanced around, feeling as if every single pair of eyes were on her.
Actually, they were.
The four of them stopped, glancing around as a wall of Gryffindors rose up to meet them. Leading the pack was none other than Colin Creevey. Even as Hermione stepped forward with her take-charge self to start demanding answers to all her questions, Ginny knew it was pointless. There was a wild look in Colin's eyes and Ginny felt a tingling run up her arms and down her back. Something bad was going to happen.
"Oh, shove it Granger!" someone shouted from the back of the room, cutting into Hermione's small speech. Hermione went pink and backed into Ron for support. Ginny saw Hart in the crowd, glaring indecisively between Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
And somehow Ginny knew; she knew that Colin had discovered her secret. Though how he had found out was beyond her. Bu he did know, and he had told, by the looks of it, everyone he could get to listen. Suddenly Ginny was the enemy and they were out for revenge.
She knew there was no point in trying to reason with them.
"Weasley." Colin said, addressing her like he'd never addressed her before. There was malice and spite and anger in his voice and Ginny knew just then just exactly how big of a problem she had on her hands.
"Colin." She answered civilly. Colin sneered. "Don't you dare act like my friend. You're a traitor. To me and everyone else in this tower. We don't like what you did to me and Dean and the others. And we want you out." Several Gryffindors in the crowd cheered in assent. Ginny squared her shoulders. "What have you been telling them, Colin? What were you told? It must have been something awful for you to be this way. After all, we were friends, weren't we? I take it things have changed since then."
That seemed to infuriate Colin. "You're not even remotely sorry for what you did, are you?" Ginny's mask flickered. "I didn't mean to do what I did, Colin. I've spent years being sorry for what I did, if you'll just listen-"
"No!" he cut her off. "You had five years to get me to listen. So now I'm going to do things my way. I'm not living in a tower with a murderer; trash marked by the Dark Lord. Either you get the hell out of here, Weasley, or you start watching your back really carefully."
Ginny resisted the urge to scream in frustration. "I didn't want to hurt anyone, Colin."
"But you did!" someone yelled and there was shouts of agreement throughout the crowd. A spark of light shot out of someone's wand and it hit her dead-centre in the chest. She stumbled back a bit, her chest burning.
No one was there to catch her.
All in an instant, something broke in Ginny. Pressure mounting in her chest collapsed and stole her breath away. When it came back, she was on her feet, wand out, and ready for battle, a maniac gleam in her eyes.
Rather than confront her, the other students backed off, wary of her wand. Ginny took the opportunity to flee, a little afraid of the fire building up in her. She was stepping out the door when a spell hit her back and sent her tumbling out the portrait door and knocking her into the railing on the staircase.
She didn't stop. Pulling herself up, she searched frantically for her wand. Behind her there were angry shouts and exclamations as several students advanced after her, shouting in a frenzy of voices she couldn't distinguish. But she could hear the fear in them.
Ginny finally spotted her wand near the Fat Lady's frame and grabbed it. Colin was starting out the portrait hole, eyes blazing with something fierce and foreign. Without thinking Ginny shouted the first spell that came to mind.
"Expelliarmus!"
The spell hit Colin's chest and the boy went flying backward into his sea of followers. An enraged roar rose and the next thing she knew, Ginny was tumbling down the stairs, her wand disappearing over the railing.