chapter one.
killing snakes
Finally, she'd found him alone - no brutish posse to defend him and cackle at his unoriginal insults. Ginny had tracked him to a remote corridor where he sat folded on a stone bench, tucked into a window alcove. He looked lost in thought, his gaze fixed on a particular square of gray rock.
"I didn't take you for a quitter, Malfoy," Ginny snapped.
"Did you follow me?" he said incredulously.
Ginny crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, unwilling to get too close to him yet. "I asked around. Did you see tonight's match?"
He rolled his eyes, looking down at his hands. "I heard you crushed us. My sincerest congratulations," he replied insincerely.
"Shut up, Malfoy."
"What, Weasley, are you not pleased? Don't you have a darling victory party to run along to?" He leaned back, exhausted and trying to keep his cool but desperate to convince her to leave.
Ginny marched over to his bench, looking over him with as imposing of a stance as she could muster. "You know very well that I hate an easy win. At this rate, Slytherin won't win a single match this season."
"Oh, how sweet," Draco said, rising to meet her posture and taking full advantage of his superior height, "I didn't realize you were such a devoted fan of our team." After Slytherin's eager participation in last year's abusive Inquisitorial Squad, it was a shock that they were allowed a team at all.
Watching his attempts to intimidate her, Ginny longed to abandon her strategy and punch him square in the jaw but knew that violence wouldn't get her any of what she wanted. She turned away, releasing her fingers from the fists they'd subconsciously formed. "Harper is absolute shit," Ginny ranted, "He can barely see his own hand in front of his face, much less catch a snitch. If I'm Seeker now, I need - I deserve real competition."
Harry had had his chance to show off and now, it was her turn. Ginny was hoping to be scouted as Chaser or Seeker and needed the opportunity to showcase her talent against formidable opponents.
While she knew from experience that Draco was an exceedingly skilled (if unnecessarily violent) Quidditch player, Ginny looked at him now and couldn't help but think he'd need a bit of training if he was going to rival her and Harry as he had previously. Judging by his appearance, he'd stayed inside all summer and completely abandoned his practice. His skin was dull from lack of sun exposure and his eyes had hollowed from lack of sleep. His usual athletic frame had become scrawnier, lankier. Draco's dress had always been menacingly polished and slick but now he wore a ratty, ill-fitting woolen sweater and shoddy trousers that seemed to swallow his now-deteriorated physique.
"It might do you some good to explore other interests, Weasley," Draco said sourly, "I've found doing so to be quite illuminating. I find Quidditch to be fatuous now - I'm just not interested."
Ginny's eyes widened at his strange response. Perhaps his upbringing at cold, isolated Malfoy Manor had imbued Draco with his annoyingly cryptic patterns of speech. Ginny wasn't stupid but often found herself uncertain of how to define certain archaic words.
"You aren't interested? You're saying Draco Malfoy no longer takes pleasure in the possibility of knocking someone off their broom, sending them hurdling hundreds of feet down toward their potential death?" she said, scoffing in outrage at the thought. He was so vindictive and violent, like the majority of Slytherin's players, and Quidditch was one of the rare venues in which those characteristics were praised rather than reprimanded.
His eyes narrowed. "I don't think you wish to know what I truly take pleasure in, Weasley," he hissed.
Though Malfoy had always repulsed her, Ginny had never understood why her friends were so afraid of him. His father and his family? Sure, they were dangerous and powerful. But Draco was always so brash and impulsive, so volatile and sensitive; he had never seemed to develop enough charisma to charm his fellow students. Instead, he was widely despised and only allowed a very small, tight-knit circle to get close to him. That was hardly the sign of an evil genius.
She smirked. "Everyone knows what you enjoy, Malfoy, and what you don't. You've always worn your feelings right there on your face. You always look a bit yellow and queasy after snogging Pansy, maybe she's -"
"I didn't realize your level of obsession with me, Weasley, it seems quite consuming," he whispered, uncomfortably close to her ear. He laughed at the way her shoulders tensed defensively. "Now, shouldn't you be running off to Potter's room? I'm sure he could think of some fascinating ways of celebrating your victory."
Ginny's already rosy cheeks grew hot to the touch. It wasn't the mention of her love life that enraged her but the way in which she was always defined by her relationship to others. No one seemed to take her seriously on her own. She was always the little sister of Ron, Fred, and George, Harry's maybe-somewhat-almost love interest, Gryffindor's second best Quidditch player... People treated her according to their opinions of her friends, never recognizing her own merit.
It bothered her only minorly until the start of this year. Ginny had overheard Harry, Ron, and Hermione in a hushed conversation about Draco but found them with locked lips when she inquired further. She was hurt by their lack of trust and knew they could use her help, especially given Ginny was the only one not prone to trembling by Draco's mere presence. She decided to take matters into her own hands. Plus, Draco ditching Quidditch - a highly out-of-character decision - affected her immensely as well. After their years of rivally on the pitch, she thought he might have even just a modicum of respect for her, compared to his pure and total hatred of her friends.
If she could beat the trio to finding out what Draco was up to, they'd never be able to keep secrets from her again.
"I only celebrate real wins. That barely counted as a match," Ginny said.
"So why then is Potter at that ear splittingly-loud Gryffindor party without you?" Draco said, raising his brow.
Ginny shrugged. "Harry is free to make his own choices."
Draco murmured a response that Ginny couldn't quite understand. He turned away from her, his impudent, fiery mask vanishing once again. His expression now looked pained and pathetic. She was reminded of the moment she'd hexed him at the end of last year, causing hundreds of bats to fly from his nose, and smiled at the image.
"What sulking brings you up here anyway, Malfoy?" she asked, attempting a more playful tone.
He snorted. "Sulking? Am I not allowed to roam freely about the castle like any other student?"
"I don't normally see you alone, is all. Just curious."
Draco looked amused. "Good to know my routines are being cataloged. Granted, I didn't think you'd be the one doing so. I must note, I think this is the longest conversation that we've ever shared."
"That's entirely your doing," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "I don't usually enjoy listening to the words coming out of your mouth."
"My doing? That Bat-Bogey Hex seems to roll off your tongue pretty easily - that should make anyone want to avoid you."
Ginny couldn't decide if this was a weak attempt at an insult or a subtle compliment. She was talented at a number of obscure, creative hexes and took pride in that.
"Look, Malfoy," she said frankly, "I want you to play Quidditch again. Whatever it is that's bogging you down, I promise I'll help you figure it out if you promise to be real competition."
"There's nothing bogging me down," Draco protested.
"Honestly, you look a mess - anyone could tell," Ginny insisted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "If you need backup or something, you know I can duel, I beat you last year -"
"I don't want or need your help!" Draco spat, almost shouting. He paced away angrily, fixing his gloomy gaze out the window.
They stood in tense silence. Ginny was close to giving up, tempted to leave before he drew his wand, but decided to give one last-ditch attempt. She hoped he wouldn't break anything.
"I'm not Harry," Ginny said, very quietly. "I'm not my brother or Hermione. You don't have to trust me but don't lump me in with them anymore, alright? I'm not righteous like that. I'm ambitious, like you. Let's help each other get what we want."
Her words hung in the air for too long. At any moment, she thought he might pick up the bench and hurl it at her head but he didn't. She started to wonder if he might actually be considering her deal.
Then after a moment, he turned her head to her. "No," he said softly. "I'm not an idiot." His voice raised, almost near breaking. "Now, get out of here!"
The sound echoed through the corridor and sent Ginny stumbling back. It took every bit of strength she could to walk away at a normal pace rather than break into a panicked run, focusing on steadying her breathing and taking evenly-paced steps until she was out of sight. But as soon as she turned a corner, she flew as fast and as far as her legs could manage.