Title: The Truth About Trees
Author: Tiny Q
E-Mail: one_legged_lesbian_seagull@hotmail.com
Question: Before I start ranting and raving about life, how can I upload chapters off of Word version 2002 as a web page without the lines spacing out so much? It's really annoying. If you could help me I would be ever so grateful!
A/N: Ok. Seriously now people! Do not try and fall out of trees!!!! I can't believe how many of you are actually considering it! I don't want to get sued when you break something, or worse! It's not safe! It isn't! Ok. Now that I got that out, I will just complain about the weather. It's snowing! Snowing in May! What the hell! It's just not right, even up here. Poop on Albertan Weather. ~grumbles~ I haven't really read the other chapters for about, uh, four months... So I know that Ginny and Draco are a little... off? Ehem. I guess I'll just let you read then...
Disclaimer: I own nothing! Well maybe the plot. And Sarah. And the trees in my backyard. Well no. They're my parent's but...
The Truth About Trees
Chapter 8
Chocolates and Paranoia
~*~
The month or so that followed the holidays went by far too slow. There really should have been two or three extra weeks tacked onto the other two and a half. I could have settled for just one extra week actually, but that's cutting it. But alas, everything wonderful must end. And sure enough the loud and obnoxious residents of Hogwarts returned. Goody.
They seemed more hyperactive than usual, their voices reaching crescendos in my mind while I sit quietly and attempt to read. Now I don't know if this was because I was so used to the almost dead silence of the school with no one in it, or if they had simply received far too much sugar over the holidays. Either way I didn't like it.
I mean, even though I had to put up with Malfoy for most of the holiday itself to do that stupid project, it was still nice to be relatively alone in places that are usually packed full of the loud people. Oh well, it's not like I can go on a rampage and kill them all, even though I sometimes want to. That would be bad for school morale.
But on the subject of Malfoy and I, there really is nothing. After Christmas dinner and that, uh, mistletoe incident, everything went back to normal. And I when I say normal I mean the normalness that we have had for about a month before that: We no longer are at each other's throats but are by no means nice to each other. It really is a queer relationship.
But we did manage to finish that stupid assignment. We were in those dank and dreary dungeons everyday for the last week of holidays, but we got it done. It was awkward at first, the whole kissing thing between us. And that was what was so stupid! He just kissed my cheek for Merlin's sake! But anyway, things were a bit tense until he decided to insult my socks. Then everything was back to 'normal'.
But really, nothing has happened for the last month or so. Interesting or otherwise. No more attacks from the forest. No more detentions for me. No more freaky children staring at me. Actually, it's as if everyone is going about their own business, however mundane it might be, in an attempt to make nothing happen just to spite me. But that would be silly and make me seem paranoid.
But come to think of it though, there is something going on where Hermione's concerned. Isn't there always though? Anyhoo, I haven't spoken to her now in over two months. Not since the detention bit. Not that I have a problem with that! But it's putting a strain on my relationship with Ron, we barley talk at all anymore. And I used to get along with him the best out of all my brothers! The thing is I find it so hard to start up a conversation for she is always there.
She is also causing more problems for Harry than I thought her capable of. The two of them haven't been on very good terms as of late and Harry has begun to rely heavily on Neville for support. But then Hermione has taken it upon herself to be closer to Neville as well. It's almost as if she was thinking that if Harry likes being around Neville, so would she and she didn't want to be missing out. But personally I think it's some twisted and malicious way to seek revenge.
That started about a week after Neville and everyone got back from their vacations. And trust me; I have heard Harry complain endlessly about it all.
But I have been trying to forget the whole ordeal. All of it. And I was doing pretty good too. I started to hang about other people more. Mainly Sarah and some of her friends, but I have also found myself associating with the girls in my dorm as well. They're all rather nice, though a little daft.
Now this was all going rather well. Perfectly well in fact. I was relatively happy and I found it fun. That is until Hermione began to do the same thing I was. With the same people. It was almost as if she wanted to prove that she could take them away from me, that she was better. And the scary thing is people are falling for it. They're falling for her fake laugh and her fake interest in what they were saying. They are falling for her over me. And I am never fake. Perhaps they really weren't worth hanging out with to begin with if they can't see through Hermione while I can.
The only person who has really not converted is Sarah. Hermione has tried to talk to her, but she's backed off. Sarah won't tell me why, but it's almost as if she told her something and now Hermione's scared of her. If only.
She's in the Common Room right now actually. Just a few tables away, chatting up with Pavarti and Lavander, the girls I know she can't stand. And it's infuriating. I'm but a table away, facing her back and I can hear them. Every bloody annoyingly high-pitched word.
Oh, I hope you can feel my death glare Hermione. I hope it kills you. That it causes you to burst into flames and you scream and run about in an attempt to put them out. Maybe I can make an exception for her when I won't for all those other annoying students. I don't think anyone would really miss her. They never really liked her to begin with.
Ok. That was a creepy chain of thoughts. So terrible and dark. Where the hell did they come from?! I don't think like that! Really I don't! I don't!
Standing up quickly, I left the Common Room without a word.
~*~
Why do pillows have to feel so soft when you can't lie on them and feel flat and hard when you can? This is something that always bothers me when it comes time to waking up. Especially on the weekend when I really can just lay here and stare at the ceiling, ignoring the snores of the two dolts across the room.
That's what I woke up to this morning: unsoft pillows. Stupid bloody things always have to make life so difficult for me. But then, lately it hasn't only been my pillows that have been giving me problems. I'm beginning to suspect that the Slytherins in my house don't trust me anymore. They seem distant in a way. Which could just be me being paranoid, but if not... If anything it was that first year at the dinner table on Christmas. If he's spreading the word around it won't be long until I'm confronted. And I know it is what these stupid housemates of mine would do. Make a big scene of it as well.
Well, I suppose I will just have to prove I am still a Slytherin. Or at least what they consider to be a Slytherin. This just means I have to provoke Potter into a few fights, verbal or otherwise. Perhaps trip a few first years. You know, that sort of stupid shit. As long as they keep off my back.
Come to think of it though, the past month or so has been rather dull. None of them have really gone out of their way to associate themselves with me. Even Crabbe and Goyle seem to not trail me as often as they used to, tending to stick to each other. Not that I really miss them, but it's peculiar. Maybe there is something up.
But that could all simply be paranoia, and that I am pushing them away myself. That it has nothing to do with my dinner with Weasley and them all finding out and thinking vengeful Slytherin type thoughts. That must be what it all is. Yup. Paranoia. Nothing more.
Yet despite the lack of action where my house is concerned, my father seems to be filling in. Almost as if my absence at Christmas was sorely missed, he has taken it upon himself to send me double the amount of owls he used to. Most of them asking for information. Information that I willingly send back. Properly tainted making them complete and utter bull, but words I know that will please him.
Father, that fool Hagrid drank too much the other night and said…
Dumbledore let it slip at Christmas dinner that…
The rest of the replies are quite generic and predictable. Probably things my father already knew. Yet he never complains if this is the case. He simply owls back and coveys his "thanks". Like my father could ever say thank you to me.
Yet all of this has brought me to begin to get sneaky. There are many things the man should never know: my secret loathing of the Dark Lord, my association with Weasley and now a secret Gringgotts account. It's just for emergencies of course, proving I am probably more paranoid than I tend to let on. But I already have quite a large sum of money derived from birthdays and other such occasions from various relatives. I also deposit half my monthly allowance into it. I don't know really where the idea came from, but it seemed important to do, so I did.
Perhaps I am brooding too much. Perhaps a bit of a walk is in order.
Neglecting anything in my dorm, I headed out of the Common Room and towards- well, anywhere but there. The halls were a nice start.
I honestly think though that the most disturbing and terrible situation of this entire past two months has been Weasley. Sarcastic, bitter, cheerfully depressed Weasley. She seems to always be on my mind. And it's driving me insane. It all really started after that stupid kiss I put on her cheek. I still don't understand why I didn't just kiss her, or why I keep thinking that. It's not like I want to kiss her. She's a Weasley! And I have said again and again, and heard again and again, that Weasleys and Malfoys don't mix. Like oil and water. But which I am I'm not quite sure. Not that I could see her as being the element that takes life.
See? No mean thoughts! They're all not Malfoy like. And when ever I try to force myself to think ill of her I get this image of her sitting beside me in potions looking like the world is going to end. She thinks I don't see it, but I do. And every time I see it, in person or in my head, I feel my heart go out to her. I want to hold her and find out exactly what is wrong and try and fix it.
This is a worse situation than my father could ever dish out. Imagine, me falling for a Weasley! It's unheard of! She would drive me absolutely insane! She would! I'd be in Saint Mungos within the month of us going out. No, let me amend that: the week! That day! That- oh look, there she is!
Somehow I had managed to walk myself into the library without even realizing it. I don't even want to think about what I must have looked like as I walked about, totally oblivious to everything. But here I was: the library. And there she was: sitting at her usual table at the back, with that damned depressed look. Damn that look.
I debated turning away. Turn any other direction but towards her, but I found my feet would not listen to reason. Damn treason committing feet. I shall have to amputate you when I get the chance. And even if I would have been able to regain control of my mutinous limbs, Weasley looked up and spotted me before I even began to move. She's bitter and observant. Damn her.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, as I seated myself across from her at the small table feeling it would be awkward to simply stand. She glanced up at me and stared for a moment then turned her eyes back down to the book she was flipping through in a dull fashion.
"Nothing really," I replied before I realized I was speaking. Well at least I didn't say: You. All I want is you. Thank you mouth. Perhaps I won't have to cut my tongue out after all.
"Then why are you here?" she hissed, not even bothering to look up as she flipped page after page. I stared at her. I haven't heard that much vehemence from her in a while. Though I do have to admit that her verbal fights are getting increasingly bitter. Some of her material never even occurred to me until she said it.
"It's a free world," I hissed back, taking a book from a pile beside her. "I can be where I want to be." Potions book. All the books seemed to be potions books. And advanced ones at that. "Planning something, Weasley?"
"No," she said simply, flipping the pages faster and a touch more violently.
Raising an eyebrow, I simply sat there and watched her. What else was there to do? She was unresponsive to what I said and didn't seem too keen on sharing what she was up to. And it was probably safer not to say anything. Dangerous that girl is when she's distracted from what she is set on doing. Must be the Weasley blood in her.
See? Weasley blood. Malfoy blood and Weasley blood should never mix. Not that I would ever want to mix blood with her. Ich. I should leave. Right now.
My retreat flew from my mind as the girl before me let out a quiet frustrated shriek. Slamming the book she was looking at shut, she tossed it across the table.
"Screw potions," she said darkly. She looked up at me and narrowed her eyes. "What are you staring at?" she demanded.
I narrowed my own eyes. "Just never realized how many terrible freckles you had, Weasley," I sneered, not looking away. She really did have a lot. Well at least I didn't say something like: Your lovely eyes. Perhaps this lack of control of my words was a curse that disappeared in the New Year.
Her eyebrows flew up and she stared at me with a surprised look for a moment, then they lowered back to normal. "You're joking me, right?" she asked with a slight exasperated breath. "Draco Malfoy has fallen back to insulting physical appearances rather than blood and intelligence. I'm impressed." She narrowed her eyes. "Does this mean I can comment on your freakishly pale complexion? Cause I've been itching to say something about it for ages."
I glared at her. Well, that was uncalled for. Ok, maybe it was, but still. I'm not that pale. It's winter! What does she expect? For me to use some fake and bake charm out of one of those stupid girly magazines? I think not.
She continued to stare at me, seeming to read my mind then began to smirk. Oh, she smirks now. But I think I mentioned that before. Still gives me the creeps. It's just not right.
"I don't think I could ever see you with a tan," she mused after a moment. "It would make your hair look to white. I think that would look even funnier." I began to glare darkly. "Not that you look funny now," she added quickly. "Well, not really anyways."
"Why thank you," I said coldly. "So not only did you insult my "freakishly pale complexion" but now you're calling me funny looking as well?" She began to grin. I glared, trying to get the voices chanting: "funny looking!" from ringing in my head with the emphasis on the "oo".
"You started it," she pointed out. "My freckles aren't that terrible." She reached up and touched them as though reminding herself they were there.
"Of course you would think that," I drawled, shaking my head in mock disbelief. "You don't have to stare at them all the time."
"And neither do you," she snapped, the grin still tugging at her lips.
Well, she did have a point.
~*~
I'm beginning to think that perhaps the library is not the best place to find solitude. It seems when ever I come here some one finds me. So does that mean if I want to be found, all I have to do is go to the library? It probably won't work if I want things to go that way. Then I will simply be alone and miserable in a room full of musty books. And what comfort they will bring.
So after that little rant I am sure you can deduce that I really didn't want to see anyone. Let alone Malfoy. Malfoy and his odd solitude. I don't know why, but lately the boy travels alone. No more idiots to follow him around, or those ditzes. Not that they ever really did, or did they? Anyway, he's all alone. And it seems that when he's alone he manages to find me. Goody.
"No," he drawled back at me, still on the topic of my freckles. They aren't that terrible are they? It's not like I can get rid of them. They are a part of me. I tried to cover them with make-up once but my face was simply too bare. It was really rather creepy. "But they are so glaringly obvious that they are hard to miss."
I narrowed my eyes. Stupid Malfoy. "You're just jealous," I hissed, knowing that I sounded like a five year old. My brothers are always telling me so. That's why I do it just to annoy them.
"Jealous?" he scoffed, raising his blond eyebrows. "Jealous of what?"
"My freckles," I replied simply. "You don't have any but you want some real bad. All you have are some funny shaped moles."
That seemed to take him by surprise. Ha. Score one for Ginny.
"I do not have moles," he spat a me, as though it were the most offensive thought in the world. I grinned slightly. He really is quite vain. At least that part of my original impression of him is still there. He may not be evil but he does have his pride. Oh and an over inflated ego a times.
"Then what do you call that?" I asked, leaning across the table to poke a brownish spot on his left forearm. "You can't tell me you think that's a beauty spot." He followed my eyes, seeming surprised that I had touched him. I'm a little surprised myself but I kept talking. "That's a mole honey."
"It is not," he sputtered, still staring down at it.
"You have a few more too," I added, examining his well toned arms. "Over there, and there and oh yes, I think there is another one over there. Yup." I poked a few more discolored spots on his other arm as well. I smirked up at him, all my worries from before completely erased from my mind. Well for the moment at least.
"Fine," he growled after a moment of staring at the discolored spots and then my hands which were still lingering by his arms. I pulled them back suddenly very conscious of them. "So I have a few moles. At least they're not all over my face."
"How do I know that?" I mused as though in thought. "Maybe you just cover them all up with some sort of Family Malfoy make-up crap. Then no one would know if anyone in your family would have moles. In fact-"
"Alright," he interrupted, raising his hands. "Fine. Your freckles aren't that bad. Just stop putting these horrible ideas into my head."
I looked at him in surprise. Did he just admit that my freckles aren't that bad? Am I going insane? First he doesn't care what I am and now he can tolerate my freckles? The mark of my family? This boy is just full of surprises.
After a moment of silence he spoke again. "So what were you looking for in these books that put you in such a foul mood?"
I looked at him cautiously before answering. "Nothing really," I sighed. "Just an idea I had."
"What sort of idea?" he asked, looking once again at the books. He reached out to grab the one I had tossed away. I looked down at my hands for a moment but whipped my head towards him as he gave out a vicious curse.
"Bloody hell," he hissed, glaring down at his finger where a large paper cut now sat. "Why do these things have to hurt so flaming much?" He proceeded to put the offending finger into his mouth, causing him to look rather childish. I held back a laugh for I think it only would have pissed him off.
"Because they are small and insignificant," I replied, searching the pockets of my clothes for a Kleenex. "If they didn't hurt a lot you wouldn't even know they were there." Finding one, I shook it out and handed it to him. "And the world simply doesn't work that way."
He stared at me for a moment, finger still in his mouth. I stared back, still holding out the Kleenex. Another moment passed before I shrugged. "Well it's true," I said simply, waving the white tissue towards him. He took it and mumbled thanks, then began to wrap it around his finger.
"Perhaps we should leave before you cause more damage to yourself," I said sarcastically. He did not protest so I stood up grabbing the note book I had taken in with me and he followed suit. We slowly began to meander our way out of the library, minding the bookshelves as we went.
We fell back into silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence but more one of those silences that is held between long time friends. I don't know what's scarier: the thought of me being friends with Malfoy or the fact that we seem to be able to get along at times as though we are old friends. Perhaps it's a good idea not to ponder too hard on that...
"Are you doing anything right now?" he asked suddenly, causing me to start slightly.
I looked up at him slightly suspicious. "Well," I said slowly. "At the moment I am in the library, doing really nothing special." He sent me a dirty look. "If that's what you mean. Why?"
"Cause we should probably work on that potions assignment for Wednesday." I stared at him blankly. That was all he wanted to do. I felt disappointment curse through me. But why? It's not like I want to do anything with him. Or do I?
"You do remember that assignment, don't you Weasley?" he asked after a moment of me not responding. Come to think of it, I had forgotten.
"Uh," I muttered slowly. "No?"
He shook his head. "Honestly, what would you do without me? I'm sure if I wasn't in that class you would be totally to pieces."
"Well it's not like I would have a partner," I pointed out darkly, thinking of those stupid twittering nitties in that class.
"You could always ask Professor Snape to be your potions partner," he offered as we reached the door. We both pushed a door open at the same time and walked though.
I turned and looked at him, slowing as the doors swung shut. "Oh that will bode over well," I sneered darkly.
Then not knowing exactly what came over me, I stopped and clutched the notebook to my chest. My eyes widened to the biggest puppy-dog eyes I could manage and I found myself hoping form foot to foot like some little school girl. "Oh Professor Snape!" I squealed. "Would you please be my potions partner? Oh please oh please oh please?!"
He stopped and simply stared at me for a moment. I felt my face turn beat red. I was torn between laughing and hiding my face. I stared back at him then watched in amazement as the corner of his lip began to twitch upward. Within seconds he was laughing so hard that he had to lean against the wall behind us for support.
"That was the most-" he gasped, still laughing. I stared at him for a moment longer before the laughter within me boiled over and forced its way out. "The most sad and- pathetic thing- I have ever seen!" He continued to laugh.
It was really quite a nice laugh, not that I could hear it very well over my own peels of laughter. I wish he would laugh like that more often. Gah! I didn't just think that. No I didn't.
"Well what do you expect," I managed to get out, as the two of us continued to laugh. "I had chocolate before you showed up." I dug into my pocket to reveal several empty wrappers, my comfort food for a piss-poor mood.
I honestly don't know what's gotten into me though. I ate those chocolates over an hour ago. I should have been bouncing off the walls a long time ago. And why the hell is Malfoy laughing along with me as though he finished off a whole box himself?
He stared at them, bringing his laughter relatively under control. "The way you eat them, you're going to double in size," he drawled.
I should have taken offence, but for some reason I didn't. "Then Snape really wouldn't want to be my potions partner," I cooed, unable to help it. "I'll have to bribe him with chocolates. Which do you think he likes better, the lovely creamy ones or those nasty bitter ones?"
"Probably the bitter ones," Malfoy responded darkly, letting out another bout of laughter. "They match his demeanor. Only nasty food could get it that way."
I giggled again, trying not to burst out laughing. "You know," I whispered suddenly all conspiracy like. "I have always wondered what color his hair really is. Recon it could be blond?" Malfoy pulled a disturbed face which sent me into frenzied laughter once more.
"Ginny!" a voice said sharply from behind me. I jumped slightly, whipping around, all the laughter drowning in my voice at what I saw.
Ron was standing there with Harry beside him. It seemed they had been headed towards the library. Harry was staring at us with what seemed to be an unbelieving expression. I noticed that Malfoy had stopped laughing and was standing just a touch before me. The sobering part was my brother, standing there in a manner that seemed to scream barley controlled anger.
I gulped.
Not good.
~*~
A/N: So there you go. You get the overly paranoid and rather not right Draco along with a chocolate-buzzed, yet depressed Ginny. Lucky you. I think I went a little crazy with the italics button, but that's ok. It's fun to use. Really it is. So I guess I am moving this story to the next part sooner than I planned. But that's ok, right? All nod yes. Good.
Thanks to: Isadora(Yeah, I think they are all really OOC, but I'm having fun with them), Crystal, Darcel, Sharlene(You know, it's not good to think such evil thoughts...), Selvagem(Oh, don't worry. They will be making a return soon. In a big way), Lallie(A poopy?? ~sniff~ Now that is all sad making), Seshet(So you are VF's friend. ~all conspiracy like~ I've heard about you... ~grin~), VirtualFaerie(Oh, not that blasted spoon again. I think I'm going to go find my stick just in case...), paranoid(Aww! So considerate!), tulzdavampslayer, aznqtpai, Jade, oliverwoodsgirl(Why be worried about Draco?? He'll be fine. I think), Cay, peaceoutgrlmehi(Wow. I think that was the longest review I have ever received. Thanks. I do like the hermits idea, but I should warn you against falling out of a tree. Not a good idea I tell you), ee, GinnyGINvampire00_aka_Evon(Well, since that is the case, I'll give you a little hint: liver ~grin~), BlinkSki182(He He. Ginny's a worm... Never mind me...), jlo's-lil-baby, and Fleur(Hey! You reviewed! Happy day! And I told you they were the better couple! ~mutters~ yet another converty. ~insane giggling~ Uh. Never mind. But yes, don't you worry. It will be finished. It's all planed out. In my head...).
So yes, Action, Fighting, Romance, Danger and perhaps some more trees coming soon to this fic near you. Ok. I know it was corny. Just- You know what? Just review. Thanks.