Living the Legend Chapter II: Unfaithful Marie McKinnon

Their summer vacation, ruined by Percy's untimely demise, had continued in a bleary, dreamlike state. No one really understood why he'd died except Ginny and Draco, who wouldn't risk even a small explanation. Mrs. Weasley entered into a furious bout of sewing and cooking, healing everyone else's ills before her own. When her daughter timidly suggested she take a short holiday and let someone else do the chores for a bit, she accepted gladly, promptly curling up on the sofa with a cheesy romance novel. Ron played endless games of chess against Bill and Charlie, numbly directing pieces and checking his brothers. The stereotypical couple isolated themselves from the others, their guilt eating away at their expressionless, blank stares.

She promised him a full explanation of her Voldemort-diary experience on the evening they arrived at Hogwarts. After finding out the password from Hermione she would wait in Harry's room and relay the password mentally to Draco. From there it was simple. Or so she thought.

"Hermione, wait!" Ginny called, dashing up the marble steps behind her. "What's the password?"

"Dinglefritz," she replied and continued shepherding the first years into the portrait hole.

~Dinglefritz,~ she told him, and wasn't prepared for the insulted reply.

~What'd I do to you?~ He asked. ~I don't think I deserved that.~

She crept up the boys' staircase cautiously, waiting for a moment to reply. ~It's the password. Dinglefritz.~ His quiet "oh" of surprise was lost on her. The large door creaked open despite her efforts to shush it by not putting extra stress on the hinges. Harry, as a prefect, had his own little chamber with a velvet curtained four poster, a desk, and a chair. A fire leapt upwards in the grate, its bright flashes filling the room with a flickering light.

Her mind sped. How to explain it? Hearing voices on the stairs, she quickly shut the door and jumped onto the bed, closing the curtains. She didn't want to have to explain being in Harry's bedroom along with her already scheduled speech. Breathing very quietly, she waited, her stomach a tense knot. Her hands wove around themselves in anxiety until she hardened her resolve and held them still.

Harry knew the door well enough to prevent it from creaking. His footsteps were barely audible in the carpeted room, and in a flicker of the fire, he saw a human figure sitting up on his bed, waiting. He didn't stop to think, but raced across the room as rapidly as the bolt of lighting cut into his forehead and pounced on the intruder, shoving her shoulders into the thick scarlet coverlet of his four poster.

"Hello to you, too," Ginny gasped. All the wind had been knocked out of her with the sudden weight on her ribs and stomach. However, it was rewarded with the stunned look that came over Harry's face as he realised that Virginia Weasley was lying flat on his bed, chest heaving to get her breath back.

He uttered a soft, appreciative "Damn." She tried to sit up, her loose, second-hand cardigan slipping off of her shoulders. Harry wasn't stupid, despite what was reported in Witch Weekly, and instantly snatched his opportunity. He held her gasping form to him and caught her mouth deftly, fumbling in the dark for more of her. His hot, moist breath on her face terrified her, and she writhed, trying to escape the strong arms that had snapped shut around her. She was trapped, frightened, struggling to keep the penetrating lips and arms at bay. Unrelenting kisses found her mouth repeatedly, keeping her breathless and unable to retaliate.

Draco opened the door and looked in to see if he had the right room. There was Potter's Firebolt on the floor, and his name on the inside of the door. Ragged breaths caught his attention, and he suddenly saw them. Two dark shapes clung together desperately, one nearly flattening the other, obviously feminine, and kissing it without taking time to breathe. A gasp for oxygen, then a light "mmph" revealed the identity of Potter's current girlfriend. He should know that sound, he thought angrily, having heard it himself when having an unusually passionate snogging session with Ginny.

As if to confirm it, Harry groaned in pleasure against her collar, which he'd been dragging his lips over. "Ginny," he moaned, hands creeping up the front of her shirt. "*Ginny.*"

Anger flooded him, but not the cold, ruthless anger he was accustomed to. It was a painful fury, a silent tearing of his heart from the other veins and arteries in his body. Not even one of her magical daggers could have more cleanly or more excruciatingly killed all his hopes. He had been through physical pain, but that was only physical. The mental anguish tore at him from the inside and brought him to stalk out of Gryffindor Tower, close to tears for the first time in his life.

Harry finally relented, letting her relax her tensed and screaming muscles at the violation. "Wow," he breathed. Then it struck him that the furious writhing and wriggling hadn't been meant to encourage him or bring him nearly to the point of tearing off her clothes, but had been a means of escape from the torture. He cringed, waiting for pain. It didn't come.

"Open your eyes," she hissed. He did, and saw her, every facial muscle tight. "You're not worth punching, Potter. Rejoice in my self control, because it's all that's keeping you out of the Hospital Wing." She shoved him away with all her strength, smirking at the thud he made against the carpet.

*

She walked into the practise dungeon the next afternoon sagging under the weight of her anger with Harry. He hadn't arrived yet, so she and Draco were the only people present. A bright grin lit her face when she saw him, fair hair visible even in the dank, lightless dungeon. Leaping from the shadows, he caught her around the waist and crushed her to him. His kiss was rough, nearly bruising her lips with its intensity. She was so close, so painfully, exaltingly close, that he thought he was on fire. When he let her go, she panted, all hint of air having been stolen from her.

"Was that as good as Potter, or better?" He demanded, voice as rough as his kiss had been.

Ginny stared at him. "WHAT?"

"Please, Ginny," he said, annoyed. "I saw you two last night. You seemed to be enjoying yourself. If you have an explanation, I'd love to hear it, by the way," he added. "I want to know what happened. Why I'm not good enough for you anymore. Or if I was somehow mistaken and Potter was snogging someone else to death, it would take a load off my mind, but be honest. I've never lied to you, and I have to believe you won't lie to me. So -- were you in Harry Potter's bedroom last night after dinner?"

"Yes," she said coldly.

"Did you leave his room after having a good long snog?"

"Yes."

"Well, I suppose I've asked all I needed to ask. I suppose I prefer that sort of encounter to the 'Oh, by the way, I'm sleeping with your worst enemy, he's much more handsome than you are.'"

"Everything I've said before about that was true," she told him, voice unwavering.

"I find that hard to believe," he said. "After all, you betrayed me with Harry Flipping Potter. I may be a tad eccentric, but that obviously wouldn't have been done by someone who loved me."

At that precise moment Harry opened the door. "So sorry, what have I missed?"

Ginny's glance of unmitigated hatred nearly shrivelled him into a Flobberworm's breakfast. She strode over to the door, opened it, and barely refrained from slamming it.

"I see," he said. "Please don't tell me. I'd really rather not know what expletives she used."

Draco didn't say a word. She hadn't even attempted to deny it and in some way save their all-too-perfect relationship. If Potter meant that much to her, who was he to stand in her way? Following her out the door, he slouched, hiding the hideous contortions of his face in a half-hearted endeavor to hold back his furious tears.