Under the Mistletoe

Chapter Two

"I wouldn't even attempt it," Madame Pomfrey stated firmly, standing at the foot of my bed like a hawk. The infirmary was pleasantly warm, unlike the drafty corridors, so why I was even attempting to leave at all seemed kind of foolish even to me. However five hours, even in a cozy place, was a long time to feel incredibly bored. Of course, I had slept the majority of the time but that was beside the point because I had had some very interesting dreams about one Draco Malfoy. If Ron even heard that I had talked to Malfoy without being in his presence, he would probably claw his own eyes out. I had the feeling that Ron would enjoy eating Malfoy alive, as cannibalistic as it sounds. I daren't even think about what would happen if he saw the two of us doing what we were doing in my dreams. I'd just have to shudder and close my eyes.

Most of all, and the one reason that really counts, Draco Malfoy will probably never speak to me again; unless, of course, it's something mocking about smashing into walls. Or perhaps a reference to my everlasting crush on "the" Harry Potter; the git (and I'm discussing Draco here) still didn't realize that I had long since moved past Harry and onto someone else. But naturally, Malfoy wouldn't notice anything about me because I am a Weasley. So Ron's sanity and Malfoy's life will always be safe. If only I didn't dislike the idea so much....

"Please, Madame P?" I pleaded, kicking away the down comforter. "I have homework to do and my brother will be worried!" The nurse's eyes narrowed; she had collected lots of 'fond' memories of Ron through the years, especially during Harry's numerous stays in the hospital wing.

"Alright," she consented grudgingly. "You'll have a couple of shiners by tomorrow morning. Other than that you're completely healed and free to go. Here's a cream to keep down the swelling and- try to keep out of the way of the walls this time, won't you Ms. Weasley?"

"Yes!" I exclaimed in glee, hopping from the bed instantly. The stones on the floor were freezing so I quickly slid my feet back into my scuffed sneakers. I grabbed the tub of cream. At the door I turned, "Thanks Madame Pomfrey."

"Any time, Weasley," she sighed and returned to a cabinet that she had been organizing ten minutes ago. This was before I had started pestering her to let me go.

I silently thanked the fates that kept the hallways clear as I trotted back to the Gryffindor common room. I hadn't had a chance to check my appearance yet and there was no way I was going to let just any creature in a robe see me and my recently disfigured face. They might carry the information back to Ron and he'd go on a rampage before I had a chance to tell him what REALLY happened... speaking of what really happened I needed to think of a story to tell. It wasn't as if I really wanted to walk around the school advertising how silly. How many people do you know that run into walls? Only the special ones, I bet.

"Hello Harry," I said, climbing through the portrait hole. Harry jumped and turned from the table he was sitting at. I was very good at my sixth sense- once I met a person I was always capable of telling where they were. I had some limitations though, first I had to touch them (shake hands and all that nonsense) and I couldn't sense them past a one mile radius. I rather liked meeting new people; everyone has a different scent. Sometimes they are icy and remote like the winds over Antarctica, sometimes they're tropical and infused with fruit blends, and there were many more. It was too bad I couldn't sense Malfoy. I'd never actually touched him skin to skin. My, that sounds scandalous! What's more, I wouldn't mind at all touching him "skin to skin".... My mind is sick, absolutely revolting.

" 'lo Ginny," Harry sighed, running his hand through his messy hair. Two years ago and just this action alone would cause me to become a melted puddle of goo. Luckily, I was passed that stage. Harry and I maintained a rather friendship of sorts. "Where you been?"

"Infirmary," I answered offhandedly. Harry shot me a sharp glance but I shrugged it off. No use explaining now, I hadn't figured out my story yet. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?"

"Sure," Harry answered with his own shrug. He flashed a roguish smile. "Yet for some reason, I don't really feel like hurrying off to Divination. Guess I'm not in much of a mood to hear my death foretold for the ten millionth time. Besides, Ron's skiving off class too and shagging Hermione in a corner. I'm not about to visit the batty Trelawney by myself."

"Ew," I wrinkled my nose. "I hate to tell you this since we have a very open relationship, but there are some things I'd rather not know." For instance, that my older brother was busy shagging my friend. That's just disgusting and provides mental images that are sure to scar me for life.

"I'll be sure to remember that next time," Harry laughed. "For now, I have to get back to depicting some gruesome deaths."

"Okay, need any help?"

"Nope, I'm fine." Harry was turning back to his parchment now. "Thanks anyway."

"No problem," I said and dashed for the stairs. I wanted to get out of the common room before Harry remembered that he hadn't found out the reason I was in the infirmary. Pity the staircase to the dormitories was so long!

"Wait, Ginny-" Harry called and I knew he had remembered. I slammed the door to the dormitory and panted. I faintly heard the sound of a chair crashing and a shout of 'Bloody hell!' Harry had probably tilted back in his chair too far. He had a tendency to do that. At least it would distract him for now.

Disclaimer: I borrowed the touch/feel thing from Anne McCaffrey and Tamora Pierce who each had a version in some of their novels. And as always, Harry Potter etc. don't belong to me. If only it did....!