~
"Woman, if you don't let me have at least a minute's peace between hammering these useless facts into my skull, I'm going to toss these books and you along with them right into that lake."
"I don't know how you expect to learn this if you won't study," Ginny insisted, growing extremely fed up with his almost constant complaining. "It's like you're not even trying to read the assignment."
"It's pointless," he insisted, throwing his text book aside.
"It is not," Ginny said firmly. "You who are so big on Potion-making and how brilliant Professor Snape and his 'art' is," she said mockingly, "should appreciate Herbology a lot more than you do."
"Who says?" he snapped.
"They go hand in hand, don't they?" Ginny pointed out. "All the ingredients that go into Snape's precious formulas are exactly what Professor Sprout is trying to teach us about."
"I don't need to know how they work, as long as I know that they do," Draco said.
"You really believe that, don't you?" Ginny asked, sounding flabbergasted.
"'Course," he answered, shifting uncomfortably.
"It doesn't matter to you at all, then, where something comes from, what it's made of, how it got to you?" she pressed. "Just so long as it works?" She was near tears now, but she would be damned if she'd let it show.
"What's wrong with that?" he asked testily.
"Nothing," she snapped. "Absolutely nothing."
Internally, she was seething. This was exactly why Ron was so worried about her spending time with Malfoy, exactly why Draco and Harry hated one another so much. Their intrinsic belief systems were so deeply opposite that it was a miracle they didn't repel each other like polarized magnets. Could she have been so blinded by her mounting attraction (and she was willing to admit that there was a mounting attraction) for him that she'd manufactured reasons to view him as something other than the mean-spirited boy they'd known for years?
"It's obviously not 'nothing' when you've got a blast-ended skrewt up your arse about it," he pointed out reasonably.
"Fine," she snapped, leaping to her feet. She tossed the apple core she had in her hands at his head and he just barely ducked in time. "You want to know what's wrong? It's you. It's the way you see things, the way you assume you know everything. You look at me and all you see is a little gutter rat Weasley, too poor to afford new clothes, something to . . . God, you don't even pity me, do you? You disdain me and anyone else who doesn't meet your awful, narrow-minded criteria. You're a bigoted, nasty boy--"
"Are you quite done?" he asked in an icy voice, jumping to his feet as well.
"Not even close!" she yelled. "You're so smart. Everything comes so easily to you, you've got everything, you never have to worry about security or whether you'll be able to help your family keep from losing their home! You're so smart," she repeated around a sob, "and you're so ignorant. How can anyone that smart be so ignorant?"
"I'm not smart," he snapped. "Not the way you think."
"Right," she sad sarcastically, "and you make better marks than almost anyone but Hermione because you're so stupid--"
"I make better marks than almost anyone but Hermione because I've got a eidetic memory," he admitted angrily.
That brought her up short for a moment. "Then . . . then why have you done so poorly in Herbology?"
"It's not . . . I don't remember things I read, or see," he said, his voice strained, his posture hostile as they glared back and forth at each other. "But when I hear something I remember it perfectly."
"You don't pay attention to what Professor Sprout says," Ginny said, her tone reflecting her sudden enlightenment. "And he never gives us the entire lesson aloud -- he always makes us look it up for ourselves."
"Just wait 'til your seventh year," Draco mumbled. "He assumes you've been listening for the entire six years prior and stops talking almost altogether."
"Why on earth didn't you tell me this before?!" she burst out, furious again.
Draco seemed taken aback. "What the hell are you mad about now?"
"We've been going about your tutoring all wrong," she said, as though it were obvious. "I've been having you read . . . good God, no wonder you're so bloody moody."
"I'm moody," he said incredulously.
"Sit back down," she instructed, resuming her seat and grabbing up the textbook he'd abandoned.
Dumbfounded, Draco sank down to the ground with her, warily watching her. Ginny pretended not to notice, and silently congratulated herself for putting him so off balance. It was becoming frighteningly clear to her the power Draco could have over her if she started liking him, feeling for him, any more than she already did. Given their forced proximity for the next three weeks she was sure there would be nothing she could do to keep these feelings from developing; but she could control just how balanced the power between them was.
It was hopeless, anyway. She didn't actually think anything would ever seriously happen between them, at least not on Draco's end. What she'd said to him a moment before might have been harsh, but that didn't make it any less true. While he might be amused with her, even tolerant of her, he still saw her as nothing. Less than nothing. A Weasley. She was so far beneath him that, from his perspective, she must look no bigger than an ant. Which only meant she had to be exceedingly careful in regards to her own feelings in this arrangement.
"Professor Sprout likes to make sure you've done the reading," Ginny said aloud, "so we're going to start with One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and work our way forward."
"When you say 'start,'" Draco began hesitantly.
"Abyssinian shrivelfig," Ginny interrupted loudly, "is a Potion ingredient that requires peeling…"
And she continued reading the entire encyclopedia of magical herbs aloud to him as the sun changed positions in the sky. When she got to Devil's Snare (a creeper that fears fire and likes damp, dark environments) she'd just hit her stride and felt she could read all night if necessary. Once she came to puffapods, however (fat pink pods with seeds that burst into flower if dropped), her jaw had begun to ache, her throat was scratchy, her voice hoarse, and her vision was getting a bit blurry.
Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, Ginny set the book aside and took a sip of sparkling cider, scrunching up her nose at the warm, flat taste. She took out her wand and mumbled an incantation to turn it into water and drank the entire glass greedily. As she reached over to pick the book up again, she was surprised to feel Draco's hand cover her own. Her startled gaze flew up to his.
"That's enough Herbology," he said softly.
"But we've another three hundred herbs and fungi yet," she protested weakly.
"I think I've learned more than enough for one night," he said.
"How am I to know you've really retained any of it?" she asked suspiciously.
"Try me," he offered with a wolfish grin.
"Devil's snare," she said.
"Creeping plant that likes damp, cold areas; would probably take well to the Slytherin dungeons if it weren't for all the lit torches."
"Puffapods," she said quickly.
"Fat pink pods," he answered just as fast, "just don't drop them or you'll get a lot of ugly flowers."
"Some memory," she declared, impressed.
"I have another task for you."
"What?" she asked warily.
"Close your eyes," he ordered gently.
"Why?" she asked suspiciously.
He rolled his eyes. "Just do it, brat."
Taking a deep breath, she shut her eyes and tried very hard not to tense every single muscle in her body. She felt his breath against her chin and nearly jumped out of her skin. When he pressed his mouth to her jaw, she did jump a bit.
"What are you doing?" she whispered, her eyes shooting open.
"You've been reading aloud for hours," he pointed out.
Glancing around her, Ginny realized that it was dusk, the sun having already disappeared behind the hills that isolated Hogwarts; made it seem like someplace that existed far away from the rest of the world. Draco's hand still rested over hers and he was still close enough that she felt every breath he took puff over her face.
"Your jaw must ache," Draco continued.
"It does," she agreed, scarcely aware of what she was saying.
"I've got an old home remedy for little aches and pains," he said. "Something my mum used to do for me."
"Oh?" she croaked.
A half grin slipped across his mouth. He pressed another kiss to her jaw, this time, closer to her ear. Her eyes shut of their own volition as he threaded his fingers through her hair and pushed it out of his way.
"Kiss it 'n make it better," he muttered a second before his lips found hers.
~