A/N: This chapter is when Draco starts to realize that despite her killing his parents, Ginny isn't all that bad… Oooo.

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

Six: A Terse, Tense Jackpot

DRACO

Draco leant back against the wall with a sigh, setting his quill down. It was an expensive gold-lined eagle feather that had used to be his father's, and he didn't use it often. He packed away his quill and inkpot, and then picked up his sheet of parchment; he gave a low whistle. "Wow, that is a lot of homework," he said.

Ginny looked over, and raised her eyebrows. She didn't comment on the amount of writing, she just observed, "Your handwriting is very small", and then returned to her book.

Draco frowned as he watched her read, her hazel eyes dancing across the page as she absorbed the text, the shorter strands of her red hair falling in front of her face like silky fire. She was totally focused on the book, her mouth whispering the words she read slowly as each sentence sunk into her quick brain.

"You're not very sociable when you're reading, are you?" Draco inquired, rolling up his Herbology homework and tucking it into his schoolbag.

Ginny glanced up again, a confused frown on her face. "No-one is. Generally, it's expected that people don't talk while they're reading," she pointed out, a little acid in her tone, though Draco knew she was teasing when the corner of her mouth pulled slightly higher than the other in a smirk.

Draco shrugged. He had asked to sit with her in library – she could continue to read her book while he did his Herbology homework – and had thought that, considering the argument they had shared less than an hour ago, they were getting on quite well.

However, something was preying at the back of his mind. A tiny reminder of why he was at Hogwarts – to kill Ginny. It wouldn't be very good to befriend her, or he might do something stupid, like try to save her, or sacrifice himself to Lord Voldemort in her place.

"What are you doing?" Ginny's voice cut through Draco's thoughts, and he turned to her. She was looking at him curiously. "You're squinting weirdly and totally oblivious to the world around you."

Draco shrugged again, and stood up, dusting his hands on his robes. "My break's nearly over," he muttered, "I have to go to class."

Ginny nodded, and started getting up. Draco didn't know why, but for some reason his stuck his slim, pale hand out to her, as an offer to help her up. The Gryffindor stared blankly at his hand, and then, shooting him a furtive glance, got up by herself.

Draco felt slightly abashed at having his help rejected. "Uh. See you," he said lamely after a moment's silence, and then walked away. He already felt a slight attachment forming to Ginny, and realized that he had to be meaner to her, or he wouldn't be able to kill her.

Memories of their conversation flashed back to Draco: "I may act annoying, but at least I've never killed anyone!"

"Well, that will all change soon, won't it? I daresay all of his servants murder now or then."

"You know I've never killed anyone."

Draco had known instantly when Ginny said 'his servants' who 'he' was. The Dark Lord. No-one outside of the Death Eaters had ever confronted him about it before, and the thought of Ginny's blazing face shouting at him about his being a Death Eater made him extremely uncomfortable and upset – memories of curling up in the boy's bathroom crying, last year, came back to him suddenly.

Draco thought over his sincere "You know I've never killed anyone", and saw how close he had coming to telling his worst fears to his nemesis. His terror at the fact that Lord Voldemort was quickly gaining trust in him, and soon it wouldn't be long until Draco was sent to murder. After that, it wouldn't stop. Draco Malfoy would be a cold murderer, punishable by Azkaban, killing many people. It was this that often prevented sleep at many a night.

Draco shuddered, pushed his contorted feelings to the back of his mind, and hurried towards Herbology. He hadn't told Ginny why it was so urgent that he finish his homework – she'd disapprove, he knew it.

Taking a short-cut (pressing the nose of Rona the Ridiculous and being transported to the front of the Hogwarts building), he arrived quickly at the Herbology greenhouses, but was still late. "Sorry, Professor," Draco drawled with a smirk, returning to his old personality so as not to raise suspicion, and dropped into a seat beside Pansy Parkinson.

"Malfoy, where'd you go?" Pansy purred, leaning her pudgy chins in her hands and gazing at him dreamily with small, fish-like eyes.

"Hmm?" Draco asked distractedly. He heard her repeat herself, but didn't really notice. He half-listened to Professor Sprout, not really taking her instructions into his head – he wasn't surprised when the dying Bubotuber he was supposed to heal exploded in his face.

"ARGH!" he shouted, slapping his hands to his face. It – burned – "Oh, hell!" Draco tightened his hands into fists so tight that his fingernails dug into the soft flesh of his palm, nearly biting his tongue off to stop himself screaming like a girl.

"Draco!" Pansy shrieked, flapping her fat arms frantically. Harry and Ron were collapsed on the table laughing ("Damn them," Draco choked past his swollen tongue, bitterly), whilst Hermione looked on worriedly.

"Mr. Malfoy, what have you done?" Professor Sprout yelled frustratedly. "I told you not to…" Her voice ranted on and on… Draco gave a shallow moan and keeled over the desk; pain pain pain pain pain –

"Ms. Granger, will you kindly take Mr. Malfoy to the Hospital Wing?" Professor Sprout tutted. "Hurry now. And be warned – undiluted Bubotuber pus, when they are sick as they are now, causes you to act similar to the way one might drunk."

"Just my luck," Hermione sighed, but she stood and crossed to Draco. "Come on Malfoy, get up," she grunted, hauling him to his feet.

Ron turned purple angrily and leapt to his feet. "Don't touch her!" he yelled warningly across the greenhouse, pointing his finger accusingly at Draco.

"Mr. Weasley, I see no reason for you to be acting in such a childishly defensive manner. Mr. Malfoy is ill and will be treated when he reaches the Hospital Wing, though I must say I admire your chivalry towards dear Ms. Granger. Now, sit down, and continue to tend to your Bubotuber plant! Let Mr. Malfoy's injury be a warning to you all!" Professor Sprout called, fixing her hat atop her fly-away hair.

Hermione dragged Draco towards the school doors, breathing heavily under the boy's weight. "Hell, you're heavy," she breathed, shifting his arm better across her shoulders.

"Weasley," Draco suddenly moaned, his eyes flickering open.

Hermione blushed. "Professor Sprout was being daft, Malfoy. Ron doesn't fancy me, and I don't fancy him!" she hissed, feeling resentful towards the Slytherin.

"Where is she?" Draco groaned, slumping on Hermione.

"She?" Hermione asked incredulously. "No, Malfoy, Ron is a – wait, Ginny?!" She shook her head in disbelief, her brown curly ponytail sliding over her left shoulder. "You. Want. Ginny?"

"Gin…" Draco slurred, "Tell 'er she's… ugh… mother… no… killed… Diagon… no…" With that, he keeled over and started to snore heavily, whimpering on each intake of breath.

"God, you're lucky we're close to the Hospital Wing when you fell asleep. You are not going to drool on me," Hermione told the sleeping Draco. Then realization struck her, "What about Diagon Alley?" she demanded. "Who did she kill? Ginny didn't kill anyone!"

Draco didn't respond, but Hermione knew she'd hit the jackpot to his terse, tense feelings.

A/N: And no, I haven't just mispelt 'tense' twice. Though I have to say that it sounds a bit cheesy… Oh well. –shrug-