A/N: This chapter is my favourite so far. This for Ocey. ily 3
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
Seven: A Piece of His Heart
GINNY
"Take three steps back… bow…"
Defence Against the Dark Arts was proving interesting today. Professor Tonks had set up a duelling class (under Headmistress Umbridge's toady nose, of course) so that they could get the hang of fighting.
Ginny turned, marched away smartly down the duelling stage, and spun, her hair spinning out in a flourish. Her round hazel eyes never leaving Colin Creevey, she bent low, and then straightened up again, her wand held steady before her nose. Colin followed suit, a grin plastered on his childish features.
"Now."
Before Colin could blink, Ginny's wand had whipped away from her face, twirling, jabbing outwards: "Expelliarmus!" she shouted.
Colin yelped, alarmingly high-pitched, and squeaked, "Protego!" at the last second. The spell bounced off, and several members of the student audience screeched and ducked. Colin laughed hysterically, narrowing his eyes teasingly at Ginny.
"Bring it," she hissed across the stage.
Colin laughed, and twirled his wand, with his blue eyes dancing – light blue eyes, so pale that they were like ice, surprisingly similar to Draco Malfoy's eyes. During this distraction, Ginny suddenly realized that a jet of indigo magic was heading towards her.
"Prote -" Ginny started to holler desperately, and then she was flying backwards, her vision lit up by blue-purple light. She spun, flinging her arms out, and then there was a sickening crunch as Ginny landed on her arm. "Crap!" she shouted, not caring that she was swearing in front of a teacher.
"Omigod!" a girl screamed as Ginny sat up, and Colin grew visibly whiter. "It's not there anymore!"
"Ow." Ginny's sight blurred. She saw Professor Tonks, her hair a vivid shade of panicky orange, and the class was crowding around her.
"Oh, gross!" a boy jeered, pulling a disgusted face. "Can I poke it?"
"No!" Professor Tonks cried, horrified. "Ginny, oh dear, oh no, Ginny, go to Madam Pomfrey. I think you've broken your wrist and your nose is – is – well. It's not very pretty."
Luna pulled Ginny to her feet and escorted her to the end of the Defense Against the Dark Arts corridor, before returning to the duelling classroom.
Ginny stumbled blindly down the stairs, her lower left arm throbbing with every heartbeat, her face feeling oddly empty. As she turned through the door to the Hospital Wing, she caught sight of herself in the over-polished marble-tiled floor.
She recognized the round eyes and the mane of crimson hair, but there was a large, smooth, rather revolting space in the middle of her face where her nose should have been. "Ew," Ginny gasped, as though she were talking about someone else and not herself. She hurried to the Hospital Wing a lot faster now.
"Madam Pomfrey?" Ginny called as she entered. Her voice sounded very flat without her nose. "I've broken my wrist – and a friend accidentally cursed my nose off," she explained unblushingly. "A bit silly, really."
The small, portly woman chuckled. "Oh dear, Ms. Weasley. Come along, come along." They headed towards a bed, and Ginny lay down on it. She gazed blankly at the high ceiling while Madam Pomfrey fussed over her wrist; occasionally Ginny would wince and yelp, making the elderly matron jump.
"Well, Ms. Weasley, I've almost fixed up your wrist," said Madam Pomfrey, "but I'll have to mix you some potions – one to mend your bones, and another to re-grow your nose."
Ginny nodded weakly, and watched with growing dread as the school nurse mixed various body parts of dead amphibians into a cauldron; Madam Pomfrey's potions were not famed for their taste. Finally the matron bustled over, humming cheerfully and holding a class of steaming lavender liquid.
"Do I have to?" Ginny moaned, but before the last syllable even left her lips, the scalding potion was forced between her lips and searing its way down her throat. "Aaaahhhh…" she complained, shivering as bouts of heat and cold struck her one by one – hot, cold, hot, cold, hot…
And then the world went dark.
The sun was setting as Ginny opened her eyes. A vile taste was still on her tongue from the potion, and she gagged for a moment or two before reluctantly swallowing the flavour and sitting up.
She flexed her wrists a few times – her wrist was better, she noticed – and then gingerly felt the center of her face. A familiar ridge met her fingertips, and a grin broke out on Ginny's face as she rubbed her nose, happy that it was back. She noticed that it was slightly bent (maybe where the curse hit it), but it was better to have a bent nose than no nose at all.
"Ohh, that hurts," someone groaned faintly, down on the other side of the Hospital Wing.
Curious, Ginny climbed out of bed and tiptoed down the hall. She saw numerous first- and second-years sleeping contentedly, with tear-stricken faces (homesickness), boils (first duels), or bruises and cuts (general scraps with the other kids), but continued.
Ginny saw that a privacy curtain had been set up around the source of the noise, and felt slightly guilty at prying, but it was washed away quickly by curiosity, and she drew the curtains back.
"Who's that?" the person in bed demanded. "Madam Pomfrey?" From the dying rays of light pushing through the curtains, Ginny could see a pale, pointed face and tousled blonde hair. Blue eyes glowed at her in the gloom, reminding Ginny why it was that she had been injured in the duel.
"Malfoy?" Ginny asked, frowning.
"No, that's my name," Malfoy drawled. "If you recall, I asked for yours." A faint, blonde eyebrow raised, and then dropped suddenly as he peered at her. "Weasley?"
"First prize," Ginny smirked, stepping fully through the curtain. Her toes suddenly moved from the cold tiles to the warm, grey carpet that surrounded the beds, and glanced down happily. She finally noticed the loose, satin, black-and-orange polka-dotted pyjama trousers and baggy black T-shirt with a pumpkin on. Red rose in her cheeks until her face nearly matched her hair, and she hugged herself to try and push down her embarrassment at her childish pyjamas.
"Oh, how sweet, Weasley, did you come to see poor, sick, ole' me?" Malfoy grinned. "I'm touched." He put a hand to his heart.
Ginny snorted. "Yeah," she said sarcastically, trying to hold back her laughter. Ginny Weasley, come to visit an ill Malfoy? Right. "Don't flatter yourself. I took a nasty turn in Defense Against the Dark Arts." She shuddered mockingly.
"Tell me more," Malfoy smirked, sounding highly amused.
"Well. I just sort of broke my wrist. And… and got my nose hexed off," Ginny muttered the last part, feeling stupid. True to his comforting self, Malfoy burst out laughing. Ginny pouted. "Oi," she said irritably, "selfish. You try some sympathy."
"Sympathy?" Malfoy echoed incredulously. "Moi? Sorry, Weasley, wrong Hospital Wing."
Ginny shrugged her shoulders delicately. "I might have known," she said. "What happened to you?"
Malfoy glowered. "A sick cactus exploded on me," he said darkly, "in Herbology. And I got covered in ill, undiluted pus."
Ginny bit her lower lip to hold back a snigger. "Oh dear," she said mournfully. "What a shame." Malfoy looked up at her and saw the teasing smile pulling at her lips, and a half-smile flickered across his face before disappearing moodily again.
"Ah, cheer up, Malfoy." The words left Ginny's lips before she even realizing that she was saying them, and how nice she was being. She ducked her head so that her hair swung in front of her burning face.
"Easier said than done," Malfoy snapped, retreating into a defensive shell. "Why don't you try being covered in great, hideous boils, being kicked off the Slytherin team because they're all scared of being killed during a match, being ignored everywhere you go, and having everyone in the school absolutely hate you. Why don't you try it? Why don't you try being destroyed on the inside by the most evil man on the world, why don't you try having your parents killed, and the last word you ever said to your mother as: "I don't care"? Why not, Weasley? Are you scared? Are you?! Then what a fool you must be, to wear your emotions like a scarf, on display for the world to see."
Ginny stared at Malfoy. She'd never heard him confess to anything, especially not to being scared. She, again, didn't know what to say. The quiet, sarky, I-won't-tell-you-anything, friendless, allegedly emotionless Death Eater known as Draco Malfoy had just opened his chest and given her a piece of the little heart he had, and she longed to repay him in some way, and let him know that he wasn't alone, but she didn't know how.
A/N: And so, the plot unravels, deepens, and twists… Loads of love to reviewers, thank you! You rock my socks! 3