Ginny was sitting in a far corner of the library with Hermione, who was rather engrossed in a large book surrounded by other larger looking books. She, on the other hand, was absorbed in a Quidditch book, staring dreamily at pictures of players on their brooms, when she felt her friend's curious gaze on her.
"What are you doing?' asked Hermione.
Ginny smiled wickedly, turning the heavy hardcover toward her friend so she could get a better look. "Let me introduce you to Maverick Gold, he played Seeker for the Appleby Arrows. Don't you think he looks like Harry?"
Hermione rolled her eyes.
"No really, wait," said Ginny standing up to move to the chair next to her. She began to flip the pages again. "And this one, a little bit like Ron!" she laughed.
Hermione tugged the book closer and smiled. "He does look like Ron!" she beamed a warm glow of affection. "Except his name is Patrick Sky and if he were still alive he'd be 302-years-old. Think you're somehow related?" she said teasingly.
It was Ginny's turn to roll her eyes. Hermione laughed, nudging the book back toward her. Hermione piled up her Arithmancy notes and began putting them in order. Ginny resumed flipping the pages of the Quidditch tome searching for more look-a-like's.
Her friend was just taking out new parchment for her Transfiguration essay when suddenly she exclaimed, "Wait!"
Ginny froze mid-flip.
Hermione leaned in and turned back to the page she'd just passed. "That looks like Malfoy," she said softly.
Ginny examined the image and conceded that it did, in fact, look like the Ferret.
"See the grey eyes," she pointed. "The marble skin, the sharp features and the…"
She trailed off when she caught Ginny looking at her strangely. "What?"
"Why are we checking out a bloke who looks like Draco Malfoy?" asked Ginny.
"No," baulked Hermione, closing the tome with a soft thud and moving it aside. "No, we're not."
"It feels a little like we are."
"No, it's just… it isn't like that, he's been on my mind is all— it's Harry's fault really! He's been on Malfoy's case, especially after what happened to Katie Bell. I was a little cross with him. He told Professor McGonagall that Malfoy was behind it all and it turns out that he was in detention with McGonagall herself that day for not having done his transfiguration homework. He keeps rushing to conclusions without any evidence. You know how impulsive he is."
Ginny listened patiently to Hermione's rant. She took a little time to mull things over before responding. "Is that all then, I mean… is that the only reason he's been on your mind?"
Hermione took a deep breath and put her quill down. She began to fiddle with some parchment as if buying time to gather herself. When she finally spoke, her voice was quiet and secretive. "I ran into him on one of my patrols about two weeks ago—"
Ginny jumped from her seat. "Did he do something? Are you ok?"
"Yes, no nothing!" her cheeks flushed, pulling Ginny back down to her chair. "I guess it just didn't seem important."
"And now it does?"
"Maybe—no—I don't know" she shrugged. "He was his usual awful self but it was…. strange. He was strange."
"Well go on then, tell me."
Hermione sat up as if she were about to make an important declaration, clearing her throat before she began. "I was patrolling the corridors when I found Malfoy sitting alone in one of the alcoves—
"Alone? That's odd."
"Yes, I told him that it was almost curfew but he refused to leave and then he," she paused hesitating, "well, he called me a Mudblood—"
"That prejudice arse! Seems like typical Malfoy behaviour to me."
Hermione narrowed her eyes at her. "Will you let me finish!" she admonished.
Ginny pursed her lips apologetically.
"As I was saying," she huffed. "I got angry and made it clear that as a Prefect I'd have to reinforce school rules. He said—and the cheek of him—that I played favourites, that I knew that Harry was cheating in Potions and hadn't batted an eye. Well, I lied of course and said he didn't. But then he said he knew I was lying, that I'm an awful liar and that he always knows when I'm lying," she snorted. "He claims to have known I was lying to Umbridge last year and well, then, he said… he said I could add it to the list of things I can't manage, including getting Ron to ask me to the Yule Ball."
Hermione was looking down at the table, clearly embarrassed to have brought Ron up. Ginny was, after all, his sister.
"I'm not sure," Ginny sighed. "I think he was just saying things to get under your skin."
"That's just it. He did get under my skin. He made me feel really guilty for having double standards for Harry and then guilty that I lied about lying and I don't even know where that comment about Ron came from. How does he even know about Ron, and did he really know I was lying to Umbridge that day, and if he did, why didn't he say anything?"
"Well—"
"So I told McGonagall that I'd help him complete the assignments he's failed to hand in," she clipped. "Apparently he's really suffering, academically."
Ginny's mouth fell open in shock. She stared at the bushy-haired girl as she coolly picked up her quill and started working on her homework – as if she hadn't just announced that she'd freely volunteered to help the Amazing Bouncing Ferret.
"Oh," she added, almost like an afterthought. "And you can't tell anyone, especially not Harry or Ron."
It was safe to say that McGonagall was not happy with Draco. He'd not only failed to submit his Transfiguration homework twice but when he'd finally gotten around to doing it, he'd done it so poorly that she said she'd rather have a conversation with a mountain troll than try to decipher the drivel he'd written. It was a low blow. Draco cheered up though when she said she'd arranged for a 7th year to help him re-do the work. It was surprisingly nice of her, he thought.
Walking up to the third floor was tiring. He'd barely eaten or slept since he'd found out that Katie Bell was sent to St. Mungo's. Not only had he failed his mission but he had almost killed a girl he hardly knew in the process. Severus was on his case immediately. Was it you behind the necklace? What's your plan? You've been foolish—don't be foolish. He knew Snape would lord this over his head forever, especially since he had been the one to stop the curse from spreading and killing Bell.
Merlin, winced Draco, just some girl who plays chaser on the Gryffindor team. Didn't Goyle say they'd gone to the same summer school once? She'd shared her cauldron cakes with him once. Goyle loves cauldron cake.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. But it had to be done. It had to be! What was he supposed to do instead? Fail?
Failure wasn't an option.
Draco realized he'd been standing at the top landing of the third floor, staring into space, only to be woken when one of the nearby staircases started moving. Luckily, the castle was deserted during his free period. Most students were either cloistered in classrooms or furiously working away in the library. Otherwise, anyone watching would've thought he was a nutter. He leaned against the stone wall of the corridor for a moment, remembering Aunt Bella's training in Occlumency. He closed his eyes for a minute to breathe, to regain control. When he opened them again, his expression was blank and unfeeling.
He located the classroom and opened the door.
"Granger?" he exclaimed in disbelief. Draco had walked into the classroom to find the Mudblood sitting at the teacher's desk, her face framed by the light falling into the dark room. His eyes narrowed on her.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he spat moving around to the back of the teacher's desk to where she was standing. He had a sinking feeling he already knew the answer to his question. McGonagall, the old bint!
"I'm helping," she replied with a casual shrug. Expect there was nothing casual about any of it—and the little swot had written notes on the blackboard as if she were a bloody Professor!
This was the last thing he needed, in the middle of the maelstrom that had become his life—for Granger to play pretend and spy on him under Potter's orders. How many times did he have to break the wanker's nose? Draco was losing his patience.
Hermione let out a loud gasp as Malfoy's hands tightened like a vice around her upper arms.
"You're hurting me!" she whimpered.
He squeezed harder, his eyes boring into hers.
"The lengths to which Potter goes to invade my privacy is astounding. If he thinks he can spy on me using a little skirt like you, he's a lot dimmer than I've given him credit."
"That's not…" she flushed. "I'm trying to—"
"Lie?" he offered. Merlin give him courage, he'd kill her right here. The very thought of wrapping his hands around her dainty neck and... he lost his train of thought, suddenly acutely aware of how close he was standing next to her. It was the second time in the last few weeks he'd caged her in like this.
"Harry doesn't even know I'm here," she told him plainly. "Promise."
A smile suddenly played on his lips as he released her. "Keeping secrets from Saint Potter, are we?" She rubbed her arms and he was sure he had left red handprints from where he had held onto her. Good. There was something oddly satisfying about that.
"I don't let other people dictate my life, there's no need for me to ask permission."
"Why are you doing this?" he asked, tilting his head and scrutinizing her.
"I figure I owe you one since you didn't tell Umbridge I was lying last year."
Draco sighed. He knew he was drowning. He didn't want to be in a position where he owed Granger anything but he could really use help, in any form, especially coming from the Brightest Witch of Her Age. He dropped his bag decidedly onto the floor with a thud.
"Fine," he conceded. He sat down and leaned back in his chair with his arms folded. "I should tell you though that the only reason I didn't tell Umbridge was because I realized too late. By the time it dawned on me, you'd already left."
She clearly hadn't expected that.
"Ok," she shrugged, trying not to look disappointed. "What gave me away?"
"I know what you're like Granger. Mark my words, you'd never give up information, not even under the Cruciatus Curse," he drawled.
She scoffed at the conviction he had in his assumptions of her. "And what am I like Malfoy?"
"Brave," he sneered, revealing his distaste for the word. He then began to empty his bag setting out parchment, ink, and quill. "You and all your Gryffindors..."
"And the Slytherins would do what?" she scoffed, flipping through the pages of her Transfiguration notes. "Give each other up immediately?"
He was quiet for a long moment and when he finally spoke there was an unmistakable severity to his voice because he himself relied on the verity of the answer.
"No… we'd make sure we're not caught."