The End Of The World
Author - Lee Velviet
Chapter Eight - Over
Edited/Revised 11/5/06
-
"You knew what was going on, Ginny…you knew you couldn't trust me. Nothing happened. Why are you acting so pissy about it?"
"You were just being you, you mean. I shouldn't take offense?"
"Exactly."
Ginny paused in front of Snape's classroom, turning to look up Draco with a deceptively calm expression.
"All right – I won't take offense, Draco. And I'm sure you won't take offense at my doing this."
Draco grabbed her hand before it ever reached his cheek.
She tugged it out of his grip, smiling tightly. "Wow, you must get slapped a lot."
"Actually, most people are smart enough not to try and bother," he snapped angrily, a dark frown on his face. "And you really need to work -"
"If I hear you blather on about self–control one more time, I'm going to throw up on those overly expensive leather shoes of yours," she said warningly as he opened his mouth.
He grimaced and stepped away from her.
"Thank you," she turned and opened the door, meeting Professor Snape's beetle black eyes as she entered.
"I'm sorry, I don't think there's been a word invented to describe just how 'ew' this is," Ginny mumbled later as she scrubbed ineffectually at the years of accumulated crust from spilled potions ingredients on the shelves in Snape's storage room.
"Eloquently put, as usual," Draco stated as he dumped a suspiciously familiar looking huge roll of shed snakeskin on a table.
Ginny looked at the rough, dry snakeskin and wrinkled her nose. "He actually went back down there for that? Ew. Again, ew."
"It's got amazing medicinal properties…I forgot, you actually saw the Basilisk, didn't you." Draco flipped an end of the huge skin and studied it thoughtfully.
Ginny shivered. "Saw it? I almost got killed by it."
"Right, and perfect Potter was there to save you, wasn't he? No wonder you fell in love with speccy git," Draco snorted and tied the Basilisk skin up in a sack, labeling it unenthusiastically.
Ginny drew back from her work with a disgusted snarl as he heart gave an unexpected raw thump. "Can we not talk about Harry, again? You say his name more than I do – what does that say about you."
"I won't even dignify that atrocious speculation with a proper answer, " replied Draco coldly.
"You know, they say the worst enemies make the best lovers," Ginny managed to comment straight–faced.
"I also have a lovely bit of the black plague in this tiny little jar just here in my hand, so keep talking," the boy retorted impatiently, tapping the lid.
Ginny bit back a smile and went back to scrubbing.
"Why can't we use magic, again?"
"It's detention, you twit – using magic would make it too easy – we're not supposed to enjoy it."
Ginny made a face at a pool of rubbery purple goop stubbornly sliding away from her best efforts to wipe it up. "I think we should be able to draw the line at having to 'chase' the mess," she said in irritation.
"You're welcome to come over here and translate," Draco said in a deceptively light tone. "Half of this stuff doesn't even have a label to begin with."
Ginny made a face and finally cornered the cowering puddle. "Well, I think 'this' stuff is in your jurisdiction,"
Draco sighed from behind her and walked up to look over her shoulder. "Well, that's just bizarre..."
Ginny watched the quivering mass almost sympathetically – until Draco took her bottle of stain remover and squirted it.
She almost could have sworn she heard a tiny squeal as the purple stuff melted away.
"Draco!"
"What? It could have been anything – didn't you learn anything in your first year? Hell, you're as dumb as a rock, and twice as thick! You aren't supposed to touch unknown substances." Draco moved back to his table and resumed labeling. "Besides, it was just plain foul looking."
Shaking her head, she rolled her eyes and went back to scrubbing with a vengeance.
"I'm going to be speaking Latin in my bloody sleep," Draco muttered tiredly as they finally left the classroom.
"Big deal, my hands are raw – I'll be lucky to pick up a quill tomorrow – oh, wait," Ginny groaned, pausing to lean her head and shoulder against a wall, - 'it 'is' tomorrow."
Draco stopped, leaning back against the wall next to her, and closed his eyes. "Wait -wasn't it Friday?"
"Oh, thank god," Ginny sighed, resting her cheek against the cold stone wall in relief.
"I have Quidditch practice in less than six hours."
"Good luck," she commented callously, and he opened his eyes and turned his head to glare at her.
"You know, it seems to me, you should be out there watching me practice, you know. Showing your support…or something."
"Oh, no - I'm not hauling my rear out of bed at six thirty in the morning to freeze on a bench and watch you practice chasing a little gold ball on a broomstick – been there, done that. Besides, I've seen you play, Draco – no amount of 'practice' is ever going to help. Why bother?"
"I could say something really cutting right now – but I think it'd come out in Latin and therefore wouldn't make any sense to your simple little brain," he mumbled, massaging the back of his neck. "Besides, wouldn't it just burn Potter's ass to see you coming to my practice instead of his?"
"Oh, all right, I'll come watch you practice," Ginny snapped, stepping away from the wall. "I'm going to bed – goodnight."
He caught her arm as she moved past him and pressed a long, hard kiss to her lips before letting her go with a smirk. "That's four."
Ginny stared at him breathlessly until he pushed her in the direction of the stairs, with a firm slap on her rear.
"Sweet dreams, Ginny,"
Ginny straightened her shoulders regally after a moment and marched away, her bottom stinging unmercifully.
Just when Ginny thought everything was going okay – the fates dropped another bomb on her unsuspecting head…
She rose reluctantly the next morning and dressed warmly to go and 'watch' Draco practice – and caught herself thinking about Harry instead.
It was disconcerting, going through the long forgotten motions of waking up early on winter mornings to go and watch Harry practice out on the pitch, feeling so in love with the dark haired boy that it actually hurt to see him-
Ginny shook off the memories – they were pointless. The feeling sorry for herself bit was so over.
She wrapped her scarf around her throat, and pulled on her gloves, walking out of her dorm and down the drafty stairs into the common room.
"Where are you going?"
Ginny had just reached the portrait entrance when the soft question was voiced.
Speak of the devil…
"I'm meeting Draco, all right? Not that it's any of your business," she snapped without turning.
"Don't go – just stay here, and talk to me for five minutes…"
Ginny bit her tongue and closed her eyes. "Just drop it, Harry. I'm not going to talk about this anymore. I'm tired of it. I'm not bothering anyone, I'm not hurting anyone, and I'm over you – so just forget I ever existed."
"You're hurting Ron…and Hermione."
Ginny dropped her chin to her chest as she heard him approach her from behind. A log snapped loudly in the fireplace, but that was the only sound she heard aside from his breathing as he stopped behind her.
"You're hurting me."
Ginny felt something inside of her burst open in a violent, aching flood of emotion, and she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet as her whole body shuddered.
Tears began to flow from her eyes, and she took a deep, shivery breath, trying to get control of herself, but his next words made her lose her tenuous hold completely.
"Don't lie and say you're over me, Ginny…I know you aren't."
She whirled to face him, tears flooding her cheeks. "I don't love you, Harry – you don't know anything! It was a crush, a stupid crush – you said yourself, it wasn't real! So don't stand there and try to tell me that I still love you when you had my heart in your hands and you threw it right back in my bloody face!" She took a sobbing, broken breath and swallowed painfully. "You just can't stand not having everyone's adoration, Harry – you don't want my love – you just want it because Draco might, and you can't let him beat you at anything!
Harry shook his head at her, his hands fisted at his sides. "It's not like that Ginny, just let me explain –"
"Sod off!" Ginny shouted loudly, and turned away to rush out of the room.
Hermione, her eyes heavy with sleep, came down the stairs hesitantly, wondering who had been up and was making such a racket so early – and she saw Harry standing in the center of the room, fully dressed, his back tense beneath his familiar red sweater.
"Harry? What's wrong?"
He turned toward her, and her heart ached for the pain etched into her friends face.
"What happened?" She moved forward, taking him by the arms. "Harry?"
"I was awake…and Ginny came down," Harry shook his head, and he swallowed hard. "I tried to tell her Hermione, but she wouldn't listen – "
"Tell her what, Harry?"
He looked up at her beneath his bangs with shimmering green eyes so full of hurt that it made her want to cry for him.
"That I loved her."
Her breath caught in her throat, and she shook her head, looking at him closely. "It's just the amore potion, Harry – "
Harry stepped away from her with a harsh laugh. "It just might have been when I proposed to her, at least," he said dryly, moving to lean against the mantle and stare into the fire.
"What are you saying?" Hermione bit back a small smile as her suspicions were confirmed.
"I'm saying a love potion can't make you experience something you already feel, Hermione…"
She moved forward and put a hand on his arm, looking up at him. "You have to go after her, and tell her."
"She won't listen to me." Harry ran a hand through his hair and clenched it there against his scalp. "She doesn't want to."
"Why didn't you just tell her how you felt in the first place, Harry?" She asked quietly, still confused by the sudden turn of events.
He shook his head, his lips twisting in a bitter smile. "I thought it really was just a crush. I didn't want to put her in danger… she was so innocent - there were so many reasons', Hermione…and not a bloody one of them seems a bit important right now."
"So…what are you going to do, now?"
"Nothing. I'm going to wait." Harry turned away from the fire, shoving his hands in his pockets.
"Wait for what?"
He shook his head slightly. "Wait for Malfoy to turn on her, like I know he will. All I can do is let her know I'm still her friend, and be there for her. Someone has to be there to pick up the pieces…"
-
Ginny made it out to the field early, and fell onto a bench in the stands to cover her face with her hands and cry herself into a puddle.
Of course Draco had to be the one to find her there, blubbering like a baby.
"Weasel, it doesn't look like you're cut out to be a Slytherin after all," he said disparagingly as he sat next to her, laying his broom aside.
"Leave me alone," Ginny muttered, intent on making herself invisible.
"What'd Potter say this time?"
"What makes you think it was Harry?" Ginny sniffed, as she looked up into his cold gray eyes.
"Who else makes you cry around here besides me?"
Ginny sobbed and threw herself into his lap, weeping unhappily into his Quidditch robes.
"Jesus, Weasel, you're soaking me," Draco complained…but she felt him stroke her hair hesitantly.
"Why won't he leave me alone? I get over him, and he starts going on about how he knows I still love him, and how I'm hurting him – I hate him!"
"Well, we both agree on one thing, at least," said Draco wryly.
"I - I told him, the only reason he's so upset is because I'm with you, now, and he can't stand the thought of losing anything to you," Ginny blabbed into his lap, her voice muffled.
Draco shrugged, becoming rather uncomfortable. "Of course he can't…"
"I'm not going through it again!" Ginny said angrily, and then finally realized where her head was.
She sat up slowly, and looked into his face. "Er…sorry." She sniffled, and tucked her hair behind her ear as she scooted away from him.
"Hey, go for it, Draco!"
"Yeah, lay one on 'er!"
"Are we interrupting something?"
Ginny's mouth fell open in horror as she looked down toward the field and saw the other Slytherin team members waving up at them.
Draco hooked an arm around her shoulders and drew her close, surprising her by planting a kiss on her temple. "I'll go take care of those prats…meet you for breakfast after practice, all right?"
"You don't want me to stay?" Ginny sniffed again, and wiped a tear from her cheek with her fingertips.
"I didn't think you'd want to…" A cold autumn breeze blew his hair into his eyes, and Ginny reached up and brushed it away. He caught her hand and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it…
"Malfoy, you pouf – kiss her like a real man!" Someone yelled obnoxiously from below. "Slip her some tongue!"
"Yeah – if you're gonna' drag us out of bed this early, and waste our time, at least give us a good show!"
"I'll pull your tongues out through your nostrils in a minute if you don't shut your bloody traps!" Draco roared finally, and then squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.
Ginny stared up at him wide eyed. "Do you always talk to them like that?"
"Yes, because they're everyone of them as dumb as a box of rocks, and they always end up giving me migraines by the end of practice the useless wankers,"
"I thought you called me dumb as a box of rocks," Ginny reminded him with a grin.
"A rock, Weasley, a rock. I think I'm developing a headache already…"
-
In the entire history of Quidditch matches that ever took place at Hogwarts, never had a student placed in Gryffindor been observed cheering for Slytherin.
Or so Ginny had been told, rather repeatedly.
No one had known what to think that day when Slytherin and Gryffindor had their first match of the year, and Ginny had appeared sitting in the Slytherin stands, her scarlet and gold scarf and red curls standing out starkly against the sea of silver and green.
She'd walked right up to the seats with her head held high, and had ignored every nasty comment and dirty look thrown her way – and she'd known all the while the only reason she'd been tolerated was Draco had smoothed the way, so to speak – meaning, really, that he'd told everyone in his house to accept her, or he'd do something very unpleasant to each of them in turn…
Ginny smiled bitterly as she looked into her water goblet that evening at dinner, remembering the surprised, comically betrayed look on Harry's face when he'd rocketed past the stands on his Firebolt, and she'd been yelling Draco's name.
He'd been so busy staring at her, he'd almost run straight into the Ravenclaw stands – and Ginny had laughed.
She'd laughed…
And then her brother had thrown her a rather rude gesture across the stadium.
Her sudden grin more of a smirk, she looked across the tables at Ron, only to see him glaring at her with that rare expression their Mum referred to as 'that devil look'.
Ginny sent him friendly little 'wave' of her own.
Ron's face turned blood red, and Hermione frowned at her, a pleading look on her face.
She gave a little shrug, and turned her head slightly to look at Draco, who was relaxing next to her, looking entirely too smug.
"What are you looking so superior about, you little rat?" She asked in a murmur, clasping her hands around her drink.
"It's not as if you won the game, you know."
Draco sat up and leaned over slightly to speak into her ear. "The expression on Potter's face right now is worth losing one little golden snitch,"
Ginny didn't dare look over at Harry. She refused to be made to feel guilty.
" 'Seems to me you've managed to lose more than 'one' little golden snitch. But anyway, it's nice to see you have achieved one of your goals in life," Ginny told him sweetly.
"Oh, come off it, won't you? You're as happy as I am to see the little bugger made a fool of. Everyone knows you liked him – and now you're with me. Right now, Harry Potter is the most pathetic git in this school. I could die happy – almost." Draco crossed his arms over his chest, looking at her with glittering, considering eyes.
Ginny automatically shook her head. "No way- I don't trust myself around you." No, definitely not after the snog – fest they'd had that certain Saturday in the Slytherin locker room after his practice…
"You didn't even wait to hear what I had planned," he protested softly, a cunning gleam in his eyes, and she knew he was remembering that day as well.
"I didn't have to hear it – I already know – and the answer is no. Forget it, ferret boy, I'm not biting."
"Wouldn't you, if I asked you to?"
She fought back the shiver that rippled across her skin when his words brushed her sensitive ear.
"I'm sure Pansy would be more than happy to help you 'celebrate', Drakkiekins,"
Ginny whispered back, pinching the taut muscle of his side hard through his robes.
To his credit, he didn't jump or yell – but he did lower his hand, hidden beneath the table, to tighten threateningly on her upper thigh.
"You're going to have to pay for that, you know," he drawled, his fingertips reaching around to rub his side.
"I think I've 'paid' enough in the past two months to last a bloody lifetime," Ginny remarked with a steely smile, pushing his hand off her leg, trying not to feel regretful.
Draco sent her a look from beneath his lashes that made her heart race.
Ginny wished he'd go put that gunk back in his hair so she wouldn't constantly catch herself envisioning running her fingers through it.
"Do you know McGonagall actually called me up to her office after the game today?"
Draco shrugged boredly. "So?"
"She was about to lay into me about sitting with Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, when I very politely pointed out that there was no rule against it, and therefore, I was doing nothing wrong –an then she actually accused me of trying to incite a riot –would you believe it?" Ginny pushed aside her dinner plate disgustedly and frowned. "I was just sitting there, for god's sake...and of course, she's sending a note regarding her 'concerns' about me to my parents. I'll be lucky if they don't yank me out of Hogwarts and try to send me off to Durmstrang. Oh, the shame, the first Weasley to ever 'associate' with Slytherins."
"Well, you can be proud of yourself, Gin," he said lazily from beside her, one brow arched. "You've certainly done more than 'associate' with a Slytherin, haven't you?"
"Watch me blush and cringe," Ginny muttered wryly, flipping her hair over her shoulder.
"You can still blush – that's a bad sign," Draco commented matter-of- factly. "I'll have to see what I can do about that."
"You 'need' to see what you can do about your team – they sucked. I had to close my eyes at one point – it's difficult cheering for the losing team, you know. I don't know if I dare show my face in my dorm. You know I actually think I saw someone with an 'I Hate Ginny Weasley' banner at the match…and somebody kept yelling 'traitor' at the top of their lungs…"
"Oh, I saw that – it was your brother," stated Draco with a too straight face.
"Thanks," said Ginny deprecatingly. "You're so comforting."
"I try."
"So what do you do when people are calling for 'your' blood?"
"Find something to blame on Weasley and Potter to take the attention away from me," he said carelessly, watching her with hooded eyes.
"And I bothered to ask," Ginny mumbled.
-
TBC