Nothing belongs to me.

XXVIII: Spilt Milk

Draco woke up to the absence of Ginny's warm body next to his own. Wondering where she could have gone, he shuffled sleepily into the kitchen.

Draco froze, though, at the sight of a small figure curled up on the floor.

"Ginny?" he whispered.

She sat with her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, weeping softly.

"Ginny?" He had never seen her cry before. "What's wrong?"

She continued to sob and automatically, Draco took a step forward, his left foot finding something cold and wet. Upon further investigation, he learned that it was milk.

"Why are you crying?"

"I spilled my m-milk."

"Is that all?" Draco didn't know whether he should laugh or not.

Ginny nodded, tears trailing down her face.

"Well, love. It's just milk." He waved his wand, and the mess vanished. "See? It can be cleaned up…"

Obviously, he had said something wrong because Ginny started to cry harder than ever. Draco sat down next to her.

"It's no use crying over spilt milk…unless…there's something else wrong…Are you hurt? Are you sick?" Draco pressed a hand to Ginny's forehead.

She gave a tearful laugh. "No, it's just – I've b-been feeling bloated and having these a-awful mood swings. I guess I must PMSing like Hermione said…"

"PMS?" Draco repeated, feeling a bit panicked, "Is that like spattergroit or something?"

"Noo…" Ginny laughed again. "PMS is a collection of physical, psychological, and emotional symptoms related to a woman's mentrual cycle."

He blanched, scrambling to his feet. "Oh."

He really wished he hadn't asked.