Here it is, for better or worse. Chapter four!
Chapter 4
Ginny approached the small door cautiously the following morning. Breakfast had revealed no anxious fathers looking for their good-for- nothing sons. No alarm had been raised. Everything seemed normal. She still felt a tension when she approached. Looking both ways, she opened the door, but paused. She remembered how her stomach had wrenched last night when she saw Malfoy, bloody and still, stretched out on the floor. She didn't doubt he might try something like that again. Cautiously, ducking low, Ginny entered the chamber. The one torch she'd left going had guttered and gone out. The magical fire was still burning, but not very brightly. She couldn't see Malfoy, but that wasn't surprising, given the dark of the chamber. Still being careful, she closed the door, wedging her wand into the crack between the door and sill. She moved quietly a few feet away.
"Lumos," she said softly. The wand emitted a feeble glow. Nothing happened. Ginny looked around and could barely make Malfoy out now. He was standing by the bars, tossing something up and down in his hand.
"Very nice, little weasel," he drawled. "You're instincts are dead on, as usual."
Ginny took that to mean whatever mischief he'd planned was off, at least for now. She retrieved her wand and lighted the torches again. Then she saw what he'd been tossing. It was the water mug she'd left him, but it was missing the handle. Not a deadly missile, but it could be painful. Malfoy looked, too, then gave a hard laugh.
"Not much of a weapon, is it?" he said, putting it back on the floor.
Ginny saw that he was still covered with blood. Of course he was. He didn't exactly have a shower here, did he? But she noticed that some of the blood looked fresh.
"Are you still bleeding Malfoy? Good gods, what did you do to yourself."
Malfoy folded his arms, hiding the dark, wet patch on the left arm of his shirt. "What the hell do you care, Weasley," he asked with a slight shrug. "What do you want, anyway?"
Ginny placed her rather heavily laden bag on the hearth and started pulling out several items. The pain in her shoulder was now mostly gone, thank the gods and good old aspirin. Looking toward the hearth, she saw that he hadn't touched the food or the blanket and pillow. Everything was just where she'd left it. Sighing, she thought he might just expire from malnutrition before she ever had a chance to do anything to him.
Her bag contained food, again, a large jar of water and a small jar of pumpkin juice she'd talked a house elf out of. There was also a large tee shirt, a basin and a washrag. She turned back to him, hands on hips.
"Are you just being a git, or does the sight of your own blood make you squeamish? You haven't eaten anything!"
Malfoy wrapped a hand around one of the bars and gave her a long, insolent look that started at her shiny curls and went down to her feet and back up. Ginny didn't like the gleam in his eye. She braced herself for a nasty remark.
Instead, his voice was soft and smooth. "Oh, I'm hungry, all right, little weasel. But not for food. If you would just step a little closer, I could show you what I want." He held his right arm out toward her coaxingly.
Ginny had steeled herself for an insult, but she hadn't expected the low, persuasive voice he was using. In spite of herself, she felt the impulse to move toward him. She stifled it quickly. Instead, she glanced at his left arm, still curled to his chest. The wet stain had grown. Clicking her tongue, she moved a few steps closer, trying to get a look at his injury.
"Well, I got my answer, Malfoy. You are a git. You're still bleeding."
"Don't worry about it, little weasel," he said impatiently. "It's just a scratch. I won't bleed to death."
"Right, Malfoy, that's why it's still bleeding. Just show me what you did to yourself. If you won't, I'll just stupefy you and see for myself."
"Screw you, Weasley," he snapped.
"You wish, Malfoy. Now let me see!" Ginny lifted her wand threateningly. Malfoy glared at her, crossing his arms again stubbornly.
"You wouldn't dare, Weasley," he said quietly, his tone challenging.
Yes I would, she thought. Then hesitated. Some wicked voice seemed to whisper that he would really hate it if she left him conscious while she treated him, but he couldn't stop her. She saw Malfoy smile smugly, thinking he'd won. She grinned to herself.
"Anesthesio!" she whispered. Malfoy heard the word and threw one hand up, but it was already too late. He had time to stumble back and sit heavily on the floor against the wall before his limbs became slack and nerveless. This spell was similar to the total body bind, because the victim couldn't move his arms or legs. But it left the limbs loose. It was perfect for difficult patients. He could still move his head a bit, and did so now to level a glare at her. Ginny ignored it and unlocked the door. She filled the basin with the water she'd brought, warmed it, then took it, the washcloth, and the tee shirt into the cell with her. If looks were lethal, Ginny would probably be incinerated by now, with the way Malfoy was glaring. She didn't care, though. She didn't want him bleeding to death on her.
"Right, then, Malfoy. I'll be careful," she said in a false bright voice.
Kneeling next to him, she took one of his hands and laid it across her lap. She carefully unbuttoned the cuff, and reached for the other. That done, she pulled the loose tie completely off and worked his top button free. Then she realized she had a problem. She was acutely embarrassed. It wasn't as though she had never been this close to a boy before; she had. She had even indulged in one or two very steamy sessions of kissing and petting. But she had never deliberately undressed someone before. It was- well-rather intimate. Ginny swallowed, her hands poised above the second button. She heard Malfoy chuckle slightly; at least it was the best approximation of a chuckle he could manage with most of his body paralyzed. She glanced at him and saw that he was smirking. He didn't think she could do it either!
Well, she'd show him! She yanked at the second button, then quickly worked her way through the rest of them. She pulled the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, and finally started peeling the shirt away from his torso. It was a bit difficult at first because of the dried blood. It was sticking to his skin in several places. As she moved him about, he began to slump sideways. Ginny cursed under her breath as she scooted around to support his weight against her body. She pulled the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. The left sleeve did not want to cooperate. It was stuck worse than the other had been. Ginny tugged gently, causing Malfoy to hiss in pain.
"Oh, lord, Malfoy. What did you do to yourself," she whispered as more fresh blood began to stain the sleeve. She pulled the material back slowly, revealing a long, fairly deep cut on his inner arm. She finally worked the wretched shirt away and gasped. The cut was at least six inches long, probably a half inch deep or deeper, and angry red.
Ginny couldn't believe a person could do something like this to himself. She certainly could not. She looked around the cell and saw the handle of the water mug in a far corner, its jagged edge stained with blood. Swallowing, she continued to hold him against her as she reached out to dip the washcloth in the basin. Then she made her voice calm.
"This is going to be uncomfortable, Malfoy. Do you want me to knock you out first?" She looked at his face. He couldn't speak, but his glare seemed to say no way.
Ginny sighed. "I imagine you'd rather I let you alone to die of infection than let me help you. Well, too bad for your pride, Malfoy. There are a lot of things I'd rather be doing, too, so get over it. You're stuck right now." She cleaned the wound none too gently. Once she was satisfied she'd cleaned it thoroughly she fumbled her wand from her pocket and tapped the long cut. The angry red faded and the deep walls of the laceration began to pull together and knit. Ginny glanced at the blood soaked shirt that she had cast aside. She pointed her wand at a portion of the back that appeared not too soiled. A large section was severed from the rest and Ginny pulled it to her. She folded it neatly and laid it over the cut. It would take a few more hours to heal completely, and she wanted no dirt in it. She fixed the dressing in place with a simple spell, then glanced at him again.
"Is that it? No more?" she asked anxiously.
His eyes signaled that was it.
"Thank the gods," she muttered in a low voice. Her shoulder was beginning to ache from supporting his weight against her while reaching around, over and under his torso and arms to undress him and mend the wound. She paused to look at him. His body was still leaning against hers, his back to her chest, but now he had his eyes closed. Despite the blood smeared across his face, he looked very young and pale right now. Without thinking, she dipped the washcloth in the pink water again and wrung it out. She lifted it to his forehead and wiped at the blood there. His eyes snapped open, staring intently into hers. Ginny snatched her hand away. What on earth had made her do that? She moved quickly away and propped him against the wall again.
Then she took the basin and washcloth and left the cell, locking it up and returning the key to her pocket. She cautiously glanced at him again. He was a wreck! She wished she had a camera, because she barely believed it herself. His hair was sticking every which way, dirt and blood mingling to make it spike up. His face looked like a ghastly mask to scare Muggle children with. His tee shirt was caked and stiff with his blood. She noticed again how thin he was. Thinner than she had suspected last night. But his shoulders were broad for all that, and the muscles she could see in his lower arms were well defined. A typical seeker's build, that was what he had. Slim, light, strong and fast. When she realized she'd been staring, she blushed and looked away.
"I'll take the spell off you now, Malfoy, then get you fresh water if you want to wash up. You're a mess!" Quickly she released him from the spell and turned to get more water. She was almost to the door when he spoke.
"Weasley!" he said. There was something compelling in his voice that caused her to turn back. He was now standing again, next to the bars. He still looked a fright but when she met his eyes she found that she couldn't look away. As her heart raced, she decided this was how a rabbit felt when a snake trapped it.
"What is it, Malfoy?" she squeaked out, trying to pull her eyes away. She detested the weakness in her voice.
"Come over here, little weasel," he said quietly. He was staring into her eyes, trying to bend her to his will, it seemed. It almost worked. She took one step toward him, then another, but clumsily, trying to fight the impulse that gripped her. The movement caused the water in the basin to splash out, soaking the front of Ginny's robes. She looked down when she felt the shock of the now-cold water and realized that she had almost walked right into his reach.
Ginny was suddenly afraid. She would have to be very careful not to let him trap her like that again. Without looking at him, she turned again and hurried out of the room. Glancing up and down the corridor, she hurried to the girls' bathroom. There wasn't enough water left in the jug she'd brought, so she rinsed the basin and refilled it. She moved to the bathroom door, but as she reached for the door handle, Ginny froze. There were voices in the corridor! Ginny snatched her hand back and stood as silently as she could, listening.
"Yes, love, what did you hear, my dear?"
Ginny held her breath as she recognized the harsh tones of Argus Filch. He must be talking to his cat, Ginny realized. Mrs. Norris seemed able to detect a derelict student at five hundred paces. It would be no difficult feat for her to track Ginny down in the bathroom. She thought quickly, but couldn't come up with any brilliant schemes to talk her way out of trouble with. She heard Filch's footsteps coming closer, slowing as he approached the bathroom door.
"In the bathroom, my pretty? Good work! We'll get them this time!"
Ginny swallowed hard. She was caught. Filch would want to know what she was doing up here with a basin, when the entire floor was supposed to be deserted. She squared her shoulders and prepared for the worst when she heard a door open along the hallway. As she listened, she heard the voice of Medic Timmons.
"Mr. Filch! What brings you up here?" the medic asked pleasantly.
"Medic! You're here?" Ginny almost laughed as she pictured the pained expression that was probably crossing her teacher's face at such an obvious question. But his voice was still pleasant when he answered.
"As you see. I forgot some work I was going to take on holiday with me. I'll be out of your hair in a moment." Ginny heard the sound of a door closing and a key in the lock.
Filch was speaking to the medic as he locked up his classroom. "Tell me, sir, did you see or hear any students up here? Mrs. Norris was on the trail of someone, but it might have been you."
The medic paused for a moment. He must have heard her when she was washing up!
"No, I can't say I have. I've been up here for about fifteen minutes and I didn't see or hear anyone." How could he not have heard her, she wondered. He was in the next room!
Now Filch paused. Finally he said, "Right, then. Musta been you we were following. Sorry to bother you."
"No bother at all, Mr. Filch. Oh, damn, forgot a book. Did you want to wait?"
"No, I'll be off. Just make sure you lock up."
Ginny heard Filch retreat back the way he came.
"Well, happy holidays to you too, you old prune!" the medic muttered under his breath as he reopened his door. Now that she was listening, Ginny heard him rummage around his desk, then close and lock the door again. He passed the bathroom door humming and Ginny opened the door a crack. She had to choke back a laugh. The reason he hadn't heard her was clamped around his head. It was one of the few forms of Muggle technology that worked at Hogwarts: a small, battery operated radio-headphone set.
When the medic was well away Ginny finally hurried back to the hidden cell. She didn't bother with caution this time. She just wanted to get out of the corridor. Besides, whatever Malfoy could have planned for her at this moment couldn't possibly be as bad as being caught having kidnapped and imprisoned another student, regardless of her provocation. She closed the door quickly behind her, breathing a sigh of relief.
"The drowned weasel look is good on you, Weasley," Malfoy sneered from his place by the bars.
Ginny stiffened at his voice. In her rush, Ginny had spilled some of the basin's contents over the front of her robe. The thin material was clinging to her front. Sparing Malfoy barely a glance, she placed the basin on the hearth and pulled off her sodden robe. She laid the garment out to dry by the fire and plucked at her lightweight knit jumper. It was also quite damp and uncomfortable, so she pulled it over her head, leaving her with only a thin turtleneck blouse. As she laid the jumper beside the robe, Ginny felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She whirled around, heart suddenly pounding, fully expecting that Malfoy had somehow escaped and was standing right behind her.
Malfoy was still where he'd been when she returned; standing near the door of the cell, behind the bars. Even through the smeared, dried blood, she could see that he was smirking. He lifted a brow and gestured toward her.
"Do continue, little weasel," he said softly, almost caressingly. "I'm dying to see what comes next; the blouse or the skirt?"
"Pervert!" Ginny snapped at him, flushing hotly. Calm down, she told herself, turning her back on him. He's just trying to get a rise out of you! Well, he was doing a fabulous job of it, too. She had almost succeeded in calming herself when she heard his chuckle.
"Since when is it perverted to want to watch an attractive girl undress?" he drawled.
Ginny turned back to him, fuming. "I was not undressing, Malfoy, I was taking off those wet things so they could dry!"
He smiled again. "Well, from here it looks like undressing. Were you just teasing, little weasel? Is that how you get your thrills? You'll earn yourself a bad reputation that way!"
He grinned smugly in the face of Ginny's indignation. Ginny so wanted to slap him, but that would require her to get closer. Instead, she grabbed the basin of water and dashed the contents right in his face.
The water hit him full in the face and chest, plastering his shirt to him and causing the dried blood to begin running in bright pink streamlets from his hair and face. He had frozen in shock at her attack, but her high, delighted laugh and the look of triumph on her face broke his paralysis. Malfoy charged at the bars, reaching through and coming just short of her.
Ginny hadn't realized she was so close and quickly stepped back to a safer distance. He looked furious! Good, she thought. She was tired of his sniping at her and insulting her. She was nowhere near his match at verbal sparring, so she would take her victories where she could get them.
Realizing she was out of his reach, Malfoy backed away, wiping the hair from his face and wringing out the tail of the tee shirt. Ginny watched, a satisfied smirk on her face, until Malfoy caught her eye. He narrowed his own for a second, then smiled.
"Not bad, little weasel. There seems to be much more to you than I ever suspected."
Ginny was bewildered by the hint of admiration in his voice. As she watched, though, he looked down and shook his head.
"Guess I'll follow your example," he said. His hands grabbed the bottom of the shirt and he pulled it over his head, struggling with the wet material. He balled it up in his hands and used it to wipe off his face. Then he ran the shirt over his arms and chest, trying to absorb the excess water.
Ginny watched, fascinated. She didn't want to be fascinated, but despite his thinness, Malfoy was very well built. He turned slightly toward the fire and caught her eye again. He lowered his hands to his waistband.
"The trousers are soaked, too, little weasel. Do you want to help me take them off?"
Ginny coloured and turned quickly away. Malfoy laughed and Ginny was angry with herself. She had him locked up. She should be the one in control, but he seemed to know just what to do to keep her off balance, to take away her edge. She realized she should have left as soon as she'd doused him. That would made her the winner in what was looking like a battle of wills. But she actually stood there, ogling the boy she hated. And he'd caught her doing it. And taken immediate advantage of it.
She reached out and felt her clothing. Still uncomfortable wet, but she'd had enough for right now. Better to quit while she was slightly ahead. She quickly donned the jumper and robe, ignoring the fact that Malfoy was still laughing. Then she brightened. Turning carefully toward him, she saw he was still wearing his trousers. He'd just been mocking her. Ginny gathered the food she'd brought yesterday and tossed it all in the fire. She put away what she'd brought for his breakfast, except the jug of pumpkin juice. Then she glanced at his face.
Without the blood, he looked once more like the irritating, annoying, vicious git she hated. It was easier to be nasty to him when she wasn't feeling sorry for him. He looked amused, though. Ginny gestured toward the tee shirt she'd left in the cell. It had managed to escape the dousing she'd given Malfoy.
"I brought you something clean to wear. But since you're not hungry, I'll leave you. I'll try to be back by dinnertime."
She turned to leave, ignoring his protest. She had no intention of letting him go hungry all day, but a few more hours wouldn't do him any harm. And she'd left something to drink. Grinning at having got the last word in for once, she exited the chamber, looked carefully around, and hurried back to Gryffindor Tower.
Chapter 4
Ginny approached the small door cautiously the following morning. Breakfast had revealed no anxious fathers looking for their good-for- nothing sons. No alarm had been raised. Everything seemed normal. She still felt a tension when she approached. Looking both ways, she opened the door, but paused. She remembered how her stomach had wrenched last night when she saw Malfoy, bloody and still, stretched out on the floor. She didn't doubt he might try something like that again. Cautiously, ducking low, Ginny entered the chamber. The one torch she'd left going had guttered and gone out. The magical fire was still burning, but not very brightly. She couldn't see Malfoy, but that wasn't surprising, given the dark of the chamber. Still being careful, she closed the door, wedging her wand into the crack between the door and sill. She moved quietly a few feet away.
"Lumos," she said softly. The wand emitted a feeble glow. Nothing happened. Ginny looked around and could barely make Malfoy out now. He was standing by the bars, tossing something up and down in his hand.
"Very nice, little weasel," he drawled. "You're instincts are dead on, as usual."
Ginny took that to mean whatever mischief he'd planned was off, at least for now. She retrieved her wand and lighted the torches again. Then she saw what he'd been tossing. It was the water mug she'd left him, but it was missing the handle. Not a deadly missile, but it could be painful. Malfoy looked, too, then gave a hard laugh.
"Not much of a weapon, is it?" he said, putting it back on the floor.
Ginny saw that he was still covered with blood. Of course he was. He didn't exactly have a shower here, did he? But she noticed that some of the blood looked fresh.
"Are you still bleeding Malfoy? Good gods, what did you do to yourself."
Malfoy folded his arms, hiding the dark, wet patch on the left arm of his shirt. "What the hell do you care, Weasley," he asked with a slight shrug. "What do you want, anyway?"
Ginny placed her rather heavily laden bag on the hearth and started pulling out several items. The pain in her shoulder was now mostly gone, thank the gods and good old aspirin. Looking toward the hearth, she saw that he hadn't touched the food or the blanket and pillow. Everything was just where she'd left it. Sighing, she thought he might just expire from malnutrition before she ever had a chance to do anything to him.
Her bag contained food, again, a large jar of water and a small jar of pumpkin juice she'd talked a house elf out of. There was also a large tee shirt, a basin and a washrag. She turned back to him, hands on hips.
"Are you just being a git, or does the sight of your own blood make you squeamish? You haven't eaten anything!"
Malfoy wrapped a hand around one of the bars and gave her a long, insolent look that started at her shiny curls and went down to her feet and back up. Ginny didn't like the gleam in his eye. She braced herself for a nasty remark.
Instead, his voice was soft and smooth. "Oh, I'm hungry, all right, little weasel. But not for food. If you would just step a little closer, I could show you what I want." He held his right arm out toward her coaxingly.
Ginny had steeled herself for an insult, but she hadn't expected the low, persuasive voice he was using. In spite of herself, she felt the impulse to move toward him. She stifled it quickly. Instead, she glanced at his left arm, still curled to his chest. The wet stain had grown. Clicking her tongue, she moved a few steps closer, trying to get a look at his injury.
"Well, I got my answer, Malfoy. You are a git. You're still bleeding."
"Don't worry about it, little weasel," he said impatiently. "It's just a scratch. I won't bleed to death."
"Right, Malfoy, that's why it's still bleeding. Just show me what you did to yourself. If you won't, I'll just stupefy you and see for myself."
"Screw you, Weasley," he snapped.
"You wish, Malfoy. Now let me see!" Ginny lifted her wand threateningly. Malfoy glared at her, crossing his arms again stubbornly.
"You wouldn't dare, Weasley," he said quietly, his tone challenging.
Yes I would, she thought. Then hesitated. Some wicked voice seemed to whisper that he would really hate it if she left him conscious while she treated him, but he couldn't stop her. She saw Malfoy smile smugly, thinking he'd won. She grinned to herself.
"Anesthesio!" she whispered. Malfoy heard the word and threw one hand up, but it was already too late. He had time to stumble back and sit heavily on the floor against the wall before his limbs became slack and nerveless. This spell was similar to the total body bind, because the victim couldn't move his arms or legs. But it left the limbs loose. It was perfect for difficult patients. He could still move his head a bit, and did so now to level a glare at her. Ginny ignored it and unlocked the door. She filled the basin with the water she'd brought, warmed it, then took it, the washcloth, and the tee shirt into the cell with her. If looks were lethal, Ginny would probably be incinerated by now, with the way Malfoy was glaring. She didn't care, though. She didn't want him bleeding to death on her.
"Right, then, Malfoy. I'll be careful," she said in a false bright voice.
Kneeling next to him, she took one of his hands and laid it across her lap. She carefully unbuttoned the cuff, and reached for the other. That done, she pulled the loose tie completely off and worked his top button free. Then she realized she had a problem. She was acutely embarrassed. It wasn't as though she had never been this close to a boy before; she had. She had even indulged in one or two very steamy sessions of kissing and petting. But she had never deliberately undressed someone before. It was- well-rather intimate. Ginny swallowed, her hands poised above the second button. She heard Malfoy chuckle slightly; at least it was the best approximation of a chuckle he could manage with most of his body paralyzed. She glanced at him and saw that he was smirking. He didn't think she could do it either!
Well, she'd show him! She yanked at the second button, then quickly worked her way through the rest of them. She pulled the tails of his shirt from the waistband of his trousers, and finally started peeling the shirt away from his torso. It was a bit difficult at first because of the dried blood. It was sticking to his skin in several places. As she moved him about, he began to slump sideways. Ginny cursed under her breath as she scooted around to support his weight against her body. She pulled the shirt off his shoulders and down his arms. The left sleeve did not want to cooperate. It was stuck worse than the other had been. Ginny tugged gently, causing Malfoy to hiss in pain.
"Oh, lord, Malfoy. What did you do to yourself," she whispered as more fresh blood began to stain the sleeve. She pulled the material back slowly, revealing a long, fairly deep cut on his inner arm. She finally worked the wretched shirt away and gasped. The cut was at least six inches long, probably a half inch deep or deeper, and angry red.
Ginny couldn't believe a person could do something like this to himself. She certainly could not. She looked around the cell and saw the handle of the water mug in a far corner, its jagged edge stained with blood. Swallowing, she continued to hold him against her as she reached out to dip the washcloth in the basin. Then she made her voice calm.
"This is going to be uncomfortable, Malfoy. Do you want me to knock you out first?" She looked at his face. He couldn't speak, but his glare seemed to say no way.
Ginny sighed. "I imagine you'd rather I let you alone to die of infection than let me help you. Well, too bad for your pride, Malfoy. There are a lot of things I'd rather be doing, too, so get over it. You're stuck right now." She cleaned the wound none too gently. Once she was satisfied she'd cleaned it thoroughly she fumbled her wand from her pocket and tapped the long cut. The angry red faded and the deep walls of the laceration began to pull together and knit. Ginny glanced at the blood soaked shirt that she had cast aside. She pointed her wand at a portion of the back that appeared not too soiled. A large section was severed from the rest and Ginny pulled it to her. She folded it neatly and laid it over the cut. It would take a few more hours to heal completely, and she wanted no dirt in it. She fixed the dressing in place with a simple spell, then glanced at him again.
"Is that it? No more?" she asked anxiously.
His eyes signaled that was it.
"Thank the gods," she muttered in a low voice. Her shoulder was beginning to ache from supporting his weight against her while reaching around, over and under his torso and arms to undress him and mend the wound. She paused to look at him. His body was still leaning against hers, his back to her chest, but now he had his eyes closed. Despite the blood smeared across his face, he looked very young and pale right now. Without thinking, she dipped the washcloth in the pink water again and wrung it out. She lifted it to his forehead and wiped at the blood there. His eyes snapped open, staring intently into hers. Ginny snatched her hand away. What on earth had made her do that? She moved quickly away and propped him against the wall again.
Then she took the basin and washcloth and left the cell, locking it up and returning the key to her pocket. She cautiously glanced at him again. He was a wreck! She wished she had a camera, because she barely believed it herself. His hair was sticking every which way, dirt and blood mingling to make it spike up. His face looked like a ghastly mask to scare Muggle children with. His tee shirt was caked and stiff with his blood. She noticed again how thin he was. Thinner than she had suspected last night. But his shoulders were broad for all that, and the muscles she could see in his lower arms were well defined. A typical seeker's build, that was what he had. Slim, light, strong and fast. When she realized she'd been staring, she blushed and looked away.
"I'll take the spell off you now, Malfoy, then get you fresh water if you want to wash up. You're a mess!" Quickly she released him from the spell and turned to get more water. She was almost to the door when he spoke.
"Weasley!" he said. There was something compelling in his voice that caused her to turn back. He was now standing again, next to the bars. He still looked a fright but when she met his eyes she found that she couldn't look away. As her heart raced, she decided this was how a rabbit felt when a snake trapped it.
"What is it, Malfoy?" she squeaked out, trying to pull her eyes away. She detested the weakness in her voice.
"Come over here, little weasel," he said quietly. He was staring into her eyes, trying to bend her to his will, it seemed. It almost worked. She took one step toward him, then another, but clumsily, trying to fight the impulse that gripped her. The movement caused the water in the basin to splash out, soaking the front of Ginny's robes. She looked down when she felt the shock of the now-cold water and realized that she had almost walked right into his reach.
Ginny was suddenly afraid. She would have to be very careful not to let him trap her like that again. Without looking at him, she turned again and hurried out of the room. Glancing up and down the corridor, she hurried to the girls' bathroom. There wasn't enough water left in the jug she'd brought, so she rinsed the basin and refilled it. She moved to the bathroom door, but as she reached for the door handle, Ginny froze. There were voices in the corridor! Ginny snatched her hand back and stood as silently as she could, listening.
"Yes, love, what did you hear, my dear?"
Ginny held her breath as she recognized the harsh tones of Argus Filch. He must be talking to his cat, Ginny realized. Mrs. Norris seemed able to detect a derelict student at five hundred paces. It would be no difficult feat for her to track Ginny down in the bathroom. She thought quickly, but couldn't come up with any brilliant schemes to talk her way out of trouble with. She heard Filch's footsteps coming closer, slowing as he approached the bathroom door.
"In the bathroom, my pretty? Good work! We'll get them this time!"
Ginny swallowed hard. She was caught. Filch would want to know what she was doing up here with a basin, when the entire floor was supposed to be deserted. She squared her shoulders and prepared for the worst when she heard a door open along the hallway. As she listened, she heard the voice of Medic Timmons.
"Mr. Filch! What brings you up here?" the medic asked pleasantly.
"Medic! You're here?" Ginny almost laughed as she pictured the pained expression that was probably crossing her teacher's face at such an obvious question. But his voice was still pleasant when he answered.
"As you see. I forgot some work I was going to take on holiday with me. I'll be out of your hair in a moment." Ginny heard the sound of a door closing and a key in the lock.
Filch was speaking to the medic as he locked up his classroom. "Tell me, sir, did you see or hear any students up here? Mrs. Norris was on the trail of someone, but it might have been you."
The medic paused for a moment. He must have heard her when she was washing up!
"No, I can't say I have. I've been up here for about fifteen minutes and I didn't see or hear anyone." How could he not have heard her, she wondered. He was in the next room!
Now Filch paused. Finally he said, "Right, then. Musta been you we were following. Sorry to bother you."
"No bother at all, Mr. Filch. Oh, damn, forgot a book. Did you want to wait?"
"No, I'll be off. Just make sure you lock up."
Ginny heard Filch retreat back the way he came.
"Well, happy holidays to you too, you old prune!" the medic muttered under his breath as he reopened his door. Now that she was listening, Ginny heard him rummage around his desk, then close and lock the door again. He passed the bathroom door humming and Ginny opened the door a crack. She had to choke back a laugh. The reason he hadn't heard her was clamped around his head. It was one of the few forms of Muggle technology that worked at Hogwarts: a small, battery operated radio-headphone set.
When the medic was well away Ginny finally hurried back to the hidden cell. She didn't bother with caution this time. She just wanted to get out of the corridor. Besides, whatever Malfoy could have planned for her at this moment couldn't possibly be as bad as being caught having kidnapped and imprisoned another student, regardless of her provocation. She closed the door quickly behind her, breathing a sigh of relief.
"The drowned weasel look is good on you, Weasley," Malfoy sneered from his place by the bars.
Ginny stiffened at his voice. In her rush, Ginny had spilled some of the basin's contents over the front of her robe. The thin material was clinging to her front. Sparing Malfoy barely a glance, she placed the basin on the hearth and pulled off her sodden robe. She laid the garment out to dry by the fire and plucked at her lightweight knit jumper. It was also quite damp and uncomfortable, so she pulled it over her head, leaving her with only a thin turtleneck blouse. As she laid the jumper beside the robe, Ginny felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up. She whirled around, heart suddenly pounding, fully expecting that Malfoy had somehow escaped and was standing right behind her.
Malfoy was still where he'd been when she returned; standing near the door of the cell, behind the bars. Even through the smeared, dried blood, she could see that he was smirking. He lifted a brow and gestured toward her.
"Do continue, little weasel," he said softly, almost caressingly. "I'm dying to see what comes next; the blouse or the skirt?"
"Pervert!" Ginny snapped at him, flushing hotly. Calm down, she told herself, turning her back on him. He's just trying to get a rise out of you! Well, he was doing a fabulous job of it, too. She had almost succeeded in calming herself when she heard his chuckle.
"Since when is it perverted to want to watch an attractive girl undress?" he drawled.
Ginny turned back to him, fuming. "I was not undressing, Malfoy, I was taking off those wet things so they could dry!"
He smiled again. "Well, from here it looks like undressing. Were you just teasing, little weasel? Is that how you get your thrills? You'll earn yourself a bad reputation that way!"
He grinned smugly in the face of Ginny's indignation. Ginny so wanted to slap him, but that would require her to get closer. Instead, she grabbed the basin of water and dashed the contents right in his face.
The water hit him full in the face and chest, plastering his shirt to him and causing the dried blood to begin running in bright pink streamlets from his hair and face. He had frozen in shock at her attack, but her high, delighted laugh and the look of triumph on her face broke his paralysis. Malfoy charged at the bars, reaching through and coming just short of her.
Ginny hadn't realized she was so close and quickly stepped back to a safer distance. He looked furious! Good, she thought. She was tired of his sniping at her and insulting her. She was nowhere near his match at verbal sparring, so she would take her victories where she could get them.
Realizing she was out of his reach, Malfoy backed away, wiping the hair from his face and wringing out the tail of the tee shirt. Ginny watched, a satisfied smirk on her face, until Malfoy caught her eye. He narrowed his own for a second, then smiled.
"Not bad, little weasel. There seems to be much more to you than I ever suspected."
Ginny was bewildered by the hint of admiration in his voice. As she watched, though, he looked down and shook his head.
"Guess I'll follow your example," he said. His hands grabbed the bottom of the shirt and he pulled it over his head, struggling with the wet material. He balled it up in his hands and used it to wipe off his face. Then he ran the shirt over his arms and chest, trying to absorb the excess water.
Ginny watched, fascinated. She didn't want to be fascinated, but despite his thinness, Malfoy was very well built. He turned slightly toward the fire and caught her eye again. He lowered his hands to his waistband.
"The trousers are soaked, too, little weasel. Do you want to help me take them off?"
Ginny coloured and turned quickly away. Malfoy laughed and Ginny was angry with herself. She had him locked up. She should be the one in control, but he seemed to know just what to do to keep her off balance, to take away her edge. She realized she should have left as soon as she'd doused him. That would made her the winner in what was looking like a battle of wills. But she actually stood there, ogling the boy she hated. And he'd caught her doing it. And taken immediate advantage of it.
She reached out and felt her clothing. Still uncomfortable wet, but she'd had enough for right now. Better to quit while she was slightly ahead. She quickly donned the jumper and robe, ignoring the fact that Malfoy was still laughing. Then she brightened. Turning carefully toward him, she saw he was still wearing his trousers. He'd just been mocking her. Ginny gathered the food she'd brought yesterday and tossed it all in the fire. She put away what she'd brought for his breakfast, except the jug of pumpkin juice. Then she glanced at his face.
Without the blood, he looked once more like the irritating, annoying, vicious git she hated. It was easier to be nasty to him when she wasn't feeling sorry for him. He looked amused, though. Ginny gestured toward the tee shirt she'd left in the cell. It had managed to escape the dousing she'd given Malfoy.
"I brought you something clean to wear. But since you're not hungry, I'll leave you. I'll try to be back by dinnertime."
She turned to leave, ignoring his protest. She had no intention of letting him go hungry all day, but a few more hours wouldn't do him any harm. And she'd left something to drink. Grinning at having got the last word in for once, she exited the chamber, looked carefully around, and hurried back to Gryffindor Tower.