I can't believe I'm at 44 reviews. Pretty soon I'm going to run out of words that can describe how shocked
and happy I am. But until then, I'd like to send my thanks to:
nessa, bellus-qui, daWOODisONfire, Krista of StraTress (thanks so much for your multiple reviews),
Gryphnwng, The Golden Goose (please don't die! you're much too talented!), KeeperOfTheMoon (sorry
about the cliffhanger), fyrechild (author of a very good fic entitled Wings of Flame) and Thea the Elf
(post a story!) and depth.
Hmm, not much to say about this chapter, except that it's a bit longer than usual. Also, it explains
a few things that I might not have made clear last chapter. I'm just relieved that we're finally
getting to a plot after SIX chapters. Sorry there isn't much G/D interaction in this one, I had to
do some major explaining and didn't really have time. I promise there will be oodles next time!
Expect the next chapter no later than late Saturday.
Please please please review and let me know how I'm doing! Good or bad, it doesn't matter. Let me know
what you love and what you hate and (as always) I'll do the same for you. But the reviews would be much
appreciated as I'm still not sure what angle to send this story in. More adventure or more romance?
Should I have a bit of a jealous Harry? Should I have more Draco or more Ginny? What about Quidditch and
classes? These are things I can't decide on, so it would be great if you could give me your opinions.
Ok, I think that's it.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Draco sat up, heart pounding in his chest and sweat pouring off of him in buckets. Panting
heavily, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. It was a
position he had found himself in all too often in the nights that had passed since he had been
hit by the double curse. At least he had managed to wake up before the scene in which, amid blows
raining down on him from all sides, he pleaded with his father that he hadn't heard anything.
Obviously, his word alone would never be good enough for Lucius and he had quickly forced some of
his personal stash of Veritaserum down Draco's throat. Luckily enough for him, being hit by a
magnified Unforgivable Curse had left him with a slight case of amnesia. He really hadn't remembered
hearing anything and so his father, very grudgingly, took his testimony as proof. Draco's bout
of forgetfulness was abolished the instant he sank into a dizzy sleep, anxious to escape from the
nausea the curse had caused. When he awoke, sweaty and breathing heavily, he had assumed the
position he was in currently and tried to sort through what his fogged mind would allow him to focus on.
It didn't take him long to decide that keeping back the rediscovered information from his father
was the only wise course of action, that wasn't the hard part. What set his hands to trembling
and blanched what little color there was left in his face was the sudden uncertainty of his future. He
had grown up knowing that the Dark Lord must be returned to power and that he, Draco, must become
a loyal Death Eater. He knew both things MUST happen because if they did not, Draco would most
likely die by his father's hand. This knowledge, given to him at a young age, had not had the best
effect on his mind, but it had created in him a sense of security in the protection he would gain
once he was initiated. All of the jealousy he felt over Potter's success, all the anger he felt
towards Granger and her flagrant impurity...well, none of that would matter when he held the reins
of power while standing next to the most feared wizard in the world. All that had changed after
that warm summer night. Now, he found himself the unwilling enemy of the only protection he could
ever hope for. Which, however obscurely, also put him on the same side as the people he had so long
tormented and fought against. It was an uncomfortable feeling, to say the least. However, it was not
the Malfoy way to lose control and, although Draco didn't think he could be a Malfoy much longer, it
was the way he had been brought up. So he gathered his wits together in the early hours of the morning
after the incident and had come up with what had to be done. He kept the list in his trunk, written
in an ink that was only legible to himself. On it, he stated that most importantly and under no
circumstances whatsoever could his father find out that he knew about the plan. That was about as
far a she had gotten with his list so far. He knew that, eventually, he would either have to join
the fight against Voldemort or flee for his life into obscurity. Neither of those choices seemed
appetizing to a boy who had been taught he was better than virtually the entire world. So he had been
putting off his decision and putting off his decision and the day of his eighteenth birthday was looming
ever nearer.
However, something else had happened to Draco that fateful night that had given him reason to
delay his choice. The Unforgivable Curses were not meant to be cast on a person by more than one
wizard at a time but since the curses were outlawed, not much research had been done on their effects.
No one knew very much about any of the curses, but Draco, perhaps, knew the most out of anybody.
After the blinding white agony had cleared from his eyes and the blows from his father's cane and
boots had ceased, Draco had felt a strange buzzing coursing through his veins. Unused to such a
sensation but still suffering from amnesia, he hadn't been able to identify the feeling properly
and so had pushed it out of mind. When he woke up later that night he was too busy trying to
figure out what to do with his immediate future that it stayed locked up in that corner of his brain.
It had been there for several weeks, forgotten and un remarked, when Draco, in a fit of panic and
anger that was completely out of character, began storming about his apartments, cursing furiously
in his head and sometimes out loud. Staring through a malevolent red haze that clouded his vision and numbed
his wits, he hadn't heard the shattering and screeching that followed in his wake. When he spun
around to make his return march he stopped suddenly, feeling anger melt away to be replaced by
fearful shock. His rooms were in shambles. Glass, shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, was strewn
about the carpet, metal lamp fixtures and doorknobs had melted away, leaving silvery stripes down his
pale green walls. The ceilings were leaning drunkenly in and the floor had a definite downward slope
to it. Shock was quickly replaced by dismay when he realized how angry his father would be when he saw this,
not so much for the waste and mess but for the evidence to his loss of control. Draco heard heavy footfalls
approaching his doorway and had time to shut his eyes and wish vainly for everything to go back to normal when
his father slammed the door open and stormed in.
"What was going on up here?" he had said. "I thought I heard glass breaking."
Draco opened one eye slowly, wincing in anticipation, then opened the other and his mouth for good measure
and spun around, gaping in wonder. The room had completely restored itself! Recovering his wits
as best he could, he muttered some ridiculous excuse that dispelled his father, leaving him alone
with his own very confused thoughts. As he ponder whether or not he had imagined it all, his mind recalled
a sensation that had been prickling just under his skin during the tirade and the few moments before his father
had opened the door. Something about that feeling had nagged at the corner of his mind until it lodged another
memory free and then Draco found himself faced with a whole new set of questions. Since that day he had had
several more incidents that were similar, but he hadn't yet been able to summon it at will. It was puzzling,
and there was nothing Draco liked less than a puzzle he couldn't solve.
Snapping back to reality, Draco lifted his head from his hands and stood up, wincing at the cold
flagstone floors that stung his bare feet. He knew from experience that he wouldn't get any more sleep that
night. As much as he might try, whenever he closed his eyes he'd see the rage that had twisted both men's faces
and feel again that terrible, indescribable pain. No amount of sleep was worth that. So he slipped on his shoes
and shrugged a robe over his rumpled uniform and set out to walk the halls of Hogwarts until the sun peaked over
the horizon.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ginny blinked sleepily, her eyes blurry and her head confused at waking up to strange noises. She felt
a warmth on her face and an ache in her lower back that had become all too familiar to her of late. She had taken to
the unhealthy and slightly disturbing pattern of falling asleep in the Common Room. She had been observing people for
so long that her body, tired from a long and unusual day of being trapped in a room with the nemesis of all things
Gryffindor, had dropped off to sleep. Since she was even more invisible when she was unconscious than when she was
quietly awake, no one had noticed her as they made their way to their own beds in their own dorms. They had
unwittingly left her lying on the floor with her face towards the fire, spread out on the uncomfortable and scratchy
carpet. She had woken up in this very same position at the very same time every night for the last week and, try as
she might, she could never get back to sleep. Tonight, she didn't even feel like trying. Struggling to untangle herself
from her robes, she stood up slowly and then set out for the portrait hole. It was going to be a long time until morning,
she might as well explore some more of the castle.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
He had thought his wanderings had been random and aimless, but as he walked the corridors of the school, his feet had
led him subtly towards the hall underneath the Astronomy Tower. However, when he realized where
he was headed, he didn't try to change his path. After all, he did like music and the opulence of
the Music Hall (as he had taken to calling it in his head) was just suited to his tastes. He approached the more convenient
of the room's two entrances and pushed gingerly against the marble frieze that depicted what he supposed to be a kind of
Renaissance orchestra. It didn't budge. Emboldened, but still fearing a repeat of his last ungainly attempt at gaining
admittance, he pushed harder. It still didn't move. Finally, he tried shoving it with all his might. Impressive though that
may be, the door held fast. Draco scratched his head in slightly frustrated confusion. What to do? This had to open into the
room if it opened out of it...but how? Drawing his wand, he whispered "Lumos!" and a faint green light revealed the rest of the
engraving. Carved around the edges of the orchestra where what appeared to be mixed up piano keys at first glance. However,
going back over them more carefully, he discerned their true identity. Draco had absolutely no head for ancient Runes and he
had dropped the class after the first few weeks of struggling through it, but he had learned enough to recognize certain types.
These were one of the first kinds of Runes he had learned about, the Celtic Ogham alphabet. The Ogham was written in slash marks
that really did very much resemble the keys of a piano. 'Hmm...' Draco mused. 'This is the doorway to a music room...what could
Celtic writings have to do with anything?' His interest piqued, Draco put his wand up to one of the Ogham letters and almost dropped
it when a single, soft note was played. Overcoming his shock, Draco tapped several other letters, each one emitting another tone.
Vaguely amused with his new game, he struck several letters in a certain rhythm. When the delayed notes rang out, the song that he
had heard Weasel singing earlier echoed down the hallway. When the last note faded, the frieze swung inward, the pitch black
hallway yawning open.
Utterly confused at this stroke of luck, Draco took a wary step towards the entrance.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ginny stepped out of the shadows. She too, had started off wandering to no where in particular but found herself being inexorably pulled
towards the scene of her earlier encounter. She had arrived in the corridor that gave access to the room only to find Draco Malfoy
flinging himself at a wall in a most comedic manner. She had been hard pressed to stifle her giggles as he scratched his head in confusion.
However, her amusement had paled when she heard the notes the stone emitted and had vanished all together when she heard him play her
lullaby. Unable to contain her curiosity, she stepped out of the shadows where she had been hiding and, as the door swung open, asked in
an awed voice:
"How do you know my lullaby?"
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Draco managed not to jump at the sound of her voice. Barely. He was tired of being frightened by a little kid and, after his dream, was
definitely not in the mood to be pushed around. So he forced the quick burst of panic and, oddly enough, excitement, down and turned cooly
to face her. The confusion and wonder on her usually expressionless face took him by surprise however and he delivered his intentionally
stinging retort somewhat lamely.
"It doesn't belong to you." he said awkwardly.
"I...I know it doesn't. It's just that I was singing it before, that's all I meant." she said quietly, bowing her head. For some reason, this
sent a spark of anger into Draco's belly and he rediscovered the strength to snap at the little redhead.
"Oh don't give me that, Weasel. You can't go back to being all meek and mild now that you've shown me a temper than can rival my own. I
won't believe it. You might be able to convince your beloved Potter of that personality, he couldn't care less anyway, but you may as well yell and scream
at me. I already know your true colors." With that she raised her chin and threw back her shoulders. A smoldering light was in her eyes and he
could see the way she clenched her fists inside her sleeves.
"There you go! I knew you had it in you." he laughed, only mildly cruelly.
It was really amazing what provoking a Weasley could do for his moods. Right now his anger and bitterness had washed away to only minor
aches in the back of his throat. However, melancholy was still clinging to his skin like oil and he knew she could tell that his heart wasn't
in the insults he tossed her way. Maybe that was why her response came out rather softer than he expected.
"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm really not in the mood."
"Well neither am I. So why don't you go away and we can both sit in peace for the rest of the night?"
"Because I can't resist this place any better than you can." she said. "If you're so anxious to be alone tonight, then you do the leaving."
He opened his mouth to deliver a smart retort and then closed it with a frown. 'If I'M so anxious to be alone? What about her? Isn't she dying
to get rid of me?' His devious mind concocted several cruel phrases to taunt her with, but to his surprise he suppressed them and said:
"I don't mind sharing if you don't."
A look of surprise no greater than his own passed over her fair face and then she said somewhat awkwardly and haltingly:
"Uh...sure. I mean, sometimes...talking it out...helps. Or so I've heard."
Ugh! This was getting much to sappy for his tastes. See what Weasley's and several months without a decent night's rest could do to a man? Well,
he was certainly done with the whole 'nice' thing!
"I didn't say anything about talking, you pathetic little Weasel. Although I suppose you need to take whatever human contact you can find. Besides,
what makes you think I want to hear about all of your problems? You'd probably babble on about your 'unrequited love for Potter' for half the night
and that would make me physically ill. We can share this room as long as you stay on the opposite side where I can't see or hear you." He felt he
had sufficiently made up for his earlier lapse of character. However, he felt a tiny, niggling thread of guilt when he saw her deep brown eyes
widen in hurt shock, then narrow into a malevolent glare.
"You unbelievably disgusting prat." she said, utterly calm, then turned on her heel and strode away.
Draco was left with a difficult decision. Did he pursue, or did he go into the room as he had planned? He pondered for a moment, hearing her footfalls
fade in the distance. With a huge, put upon sigh, he pushed the stone frieze shut and jogged down the corridor after that insufferable little redhead.
and happy I am. But until then, I'd like to send my thanks to:
nessa, bellus-qui, daWOODisONfire, Krista of StraTress (thanks so much for your multiple reviews),
Gryphnwng, The Golden Goose (please don't die! you're much too talented!), KeeperOfTheMoon (sorry
about the cliffhanger), fyrechild (author of a very good fic entitled Wings of Flame) and Thea the Elf
(post a story!) and depth.
Hmm, not much to say about this chapter, except that it's a bit longer than usual. Also, it explains
a few things that I might not have made clear last chapter. I'm just relieved that we're finally
getting to a plot after SIX chapters. Sorry there isn't much G/D interaction in this one, I had to
do some major explaining and didn't really have time. I promise there will be oodles next time!
Expect the next chapter no later than late Saturday.
Please please please review and let me know how I'm doing! Good or bad, it doesn't matter. Let me know
what you love and what you hate and (as always) I'll do the same for you. But the reviews would be much
appreciated as I'm still not sure what angle to send this story in. More adventure or more romance?
Should I have a bit of a jealous Harry? Should I have more Draco or more Ginny? What about Quidditch and
classes? These are things I can't decide on, so it would be great if you could give me your opinions.
Ok, I think that's it.
Disclaimer: Not mine.
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________
Draco sat up, heart pounding in his chest and sweat pouring off of him in buckets. Panting
heavily, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and cradled his head in his hands. It was a
position he had found himself in all too often in the nights that had passed since he had been
hit by the double curse. At least he had managed to wake up before the scene in which, amid blows
raining down on him from all sides, he pleaded with his father that he hadn't heard anything.
Obviously, his word alone would never be good enough for Lucius and he had quickly forced some of
his personal stash of Veritaserum down Draco's throat. Luckily enough for him, being hit by a
magnified Unforgivable Curse had left him with a slight case of amnesia. He really hadn't remembered
hearing anything and so his father, very grudgingly, took his testimony as proof. Draco's bout
of forgetfulness was abolished the instant he sank into a dizzy sleep, anxious to escape from the
nausea the curse had caused. When he awoke, sweaty and breathing heavily, he had assumed the
position he was in currently and tried to sort through what his fogged mind would allow him to focus on.
It didn't take him long to decide that keeping back the rediscovered information from his father
was the only wise course of action, that wasn't the hard part. What set his hands to trembling
and blanched what little color there was left in his face was the sudden uncertainty of his future. He
had grown up knowing that the Dark Lord must be returned to power and that he, Draco, must become
a loyal Death Eater. He knew both things MUST happen because if they did not, Draco would most
likely die by his father's hand. This knowledge, given to him at a young age, had not had the best
effect on his mind, but it had created in him a sense of security in the protection he would gain
once he was initiated. All of the jealousy he felt over Potter's success, all the anger he felt
towards Granger and her flagrant impurity...well, none of that would matter when he held the reins
of power while standing next to the most feared wizard in the world. All that had changed after
that warm summer night. Now, he found himself the unwilling enemy of the only protection he could
ever hope for. Which, however obscurely, also put him on the same side as the people he had so long
tormented and fought against. It was an uncomfortable feeling, to say the least. However, it was not
the Malfoy way to lose control and, although Draco didn't think he could be a Malfoy much longer, it
was the way he had been brought up. So he gathered his wits together in the early hours of the morning
after the incident and had come up with what had to be done. He kept the list in his trunk, written
in an ink that was only legible to himself. On it, he stated that most importantly and under no
circumstances whatsoever could his father find out that he knew about the plan. That was about as
far a she had gotten with his list so far. He knew that, eventually, he would either have to join
the fight against Voldemort or flee for his life into obscurity. Neither of those choices seemed
appetizing to a boy who had been taught he was better than virtually the entire world. So he had been
putting off his decision and putting off his decision and the day of his eighteenth birthday was looming
ever nearer.
However, something else had happened to Draco that fateful night that had given him reason to
delay his choice. The Unforgivable Curses were not meant to be cast on a person by more than one
wizard at a time but since the curses were outlawed, not much research had been done on their effects.
No one knew very much about any of the curses, but Draco, perhaps, knew the most out of anybody.
After the blinding white agony had cleared from his eyes and the blows from his father's cane and
boots had ceased, Draco had felt a strange buzzing coursing through his veins. Unused to such a
sensation but still suffering from amnesia, he hadn't been able to identify the feeling properly
and so had pushed it out of mind. When he woke up later that night he was too busy trying to
figure out what to do with his immediate future that it stayed locked up in that corner of his brain.
It had been there for several weeks, forgotten and un remarked, when Draco, in a fit of panic and
anger that was completely out of character, began storming about his apartments, cursing furiously
in his head and sometimes out loud. Staring through a malevolent red haze that clouded his vision and numbed
his wits, he hadn't heard the shattering and screeching that followed in his wake. When he spun
around to make his return march he stopped suddenly, feeling anger melt away to be replaced by
fearful shock. His rooms were in shambles. Glass, shattered into thousands of tiny pieces, was strewn
about the carpet, metal lamp fixtures and doorknobs had melted away, leaving silvery stripes down his
pale green walls. The ceilings were leaning drunkenly in and the floor had a definite downward slope
to it. Shock was quickly replaced by dismay when he realized how angry his father would be when he saw this,
not so much for the waste and mess but for the evidence to his loss of control. Draco heard heavy footfalls
approaching his doorway and had time to shut his eyes and wish vainly for everything to go back to normal when
his father slammed the door open and stormed in.
"What was going on up here?" he had said. "I thought I heard glass breaking."
Draco opened one eye slowly, wincing in anticipation, then opened the other and his mouth for good measure
and spun around, gaping in wonder. The room had completely restored itself! Recovering his wits
as best he could, he muttered some ridiculous excuse that dispelled his father, leaving him alone
with his own very confused thoughts. As he ponder whether or not he had imagined it all, his mind recalled
a sensation that had been prickling just under his skin during the tirade and the few moments before his father
had opened the door. Something about that feeling had nagged at the corner of his mind until it lodged another
memory free and then Draco found himself faced with a whole new set of questions. Since that day he had had
several more incidents that were similar, but he hadn't yet been able to summon it at will. It was puzzling,
and there was nothing Draco liked less than a puzzle he couldn't solve.
Snapping back to reality, Draco lifted his head from his hands and stood up, wincing at the cold
flagstone floors that stung his bare feet. He knew from experience that he wouldn't get any more sleep that
night. As much as he might try, whenever he closed his eyes he'd see the rage that had twisted both men's faces
and feel again that terrible, indescribable pain. No amount of sleep was worth that. So he slipped on his shoes
and shrugged a robe over his rumpled uniform and set out to walk the halls of Hogwarts until the sun peaked over
the horizon.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ginny blinked sleepily, her eyes blurry and her head confused at waking up to strange noises. She felt
a warmth on her face and an ache in her lower back that had become all too familiar to her of late. She had taken to
the unhealthy and slightly disturbing pattern of falling asleep in the Common Room. She had been observing people for
so long that her body, tired from a long and unusual day of being trapped in a room with the nemesis of all things
Gryffindor, had dropped off to sleep. Since she was even more invisible when she was unconscious than when she was
quietly awake, no one had noticed her as they made their way to their own beds in their own dorms. They had
unwittingly left her lying on the floor with her face towards the fire, spread out on the uncomfortable and scratchy
carpet. She had woken up in this very same position at the very same time every night for the last week and, try as
she might, she could never get back to sleep. Tonight, she didn't even feel like trying. Struggling to untangle herself
from her robes, she stood up slowly and then set out for the portrait hole. It was going to be a long time until morning,
she might as well explore some more of the castle.
___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
He had thought his wanderings had been random and aimless, but as he walked the corridors of the school, his feet had
led him subtly towards the hall underneath the Astronomy Tower. However, when he realized where
he was headed, he didn't try to change his path. After all, he did like music and the opulence of
the Music Hall (as he had taken to calling it in his head) was just suited to his tastes. He approached the more convenient
of the room's two entrances and pushed gingerly against the marble frieze that depicted what he supposed to be a kind of
Renaissance orchestra. It didn't budge. Emboldened, but still fearing a repeat of his last ungainly attempt at gaining
admittance, he pushed harder. It still didn't move. Finally, he tried shoving it with all his might. Impressive though that
may be, the door held fast. Draco scratched his head in slightly frustrated confusion. What to do? This had to open into the
room if it opened out of it...but how? Drawing his wand, he whispered "Lumos!" and a faint green light revealed the rest of the
engraving. Carved around the edges of the orchestra where what appeared to be mixed up piano keys at first glance. However,
going back over them more carefully, he discerned their true identity. Draco had absolutely no head for ancient Runes and he
had dropped the class after the first few weeks of struggling through it, but he had learned enough to recognize certain types.
These were one of the first kinds of Runes he had learned about, the Celtic Ogham alphabet. The Ogham was written in slash marks
that really did very much resemble the keys of a piano. 'Hmm...' Draco mused. 'This is the doorway to a music room...what could
Celtic writings have to do with anything?' His interest piqued, Draco put his wand up to one of the Ogham letters and almost dropped
it when a single, soft note was played. Overcoming his shock, Draco tapped several other letters, each one emitting another tone.
Vaguely amused with his new game, he struck several letters in a certain rhythm. When the delayed notes rang out, the song that he
had heard Weasel singing earlier echoed down the hallway. When the last note faded, the frieze swung inward, the pitch black
hallway yawning open.
Utterly confused at this stroke of luck, Draco took a wary step towards the entrance.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Ginny stepped out of the shadows. She too, had started off wandering to no where in particular but found herself being inexorably pulled
towards the scene of her earlier encounter. She had arrived in the corridor that gave access to the room only to find Draco Malfoy
flinging himself at a wall in a most comedic manner. She had been hard pressed to stifle her giggles as he scratched his head in confusion.
However, her amusement had paled when she heard the notes the stone emitted and had vanished all together when she heard him play her
lullaby. Unable to contain her curiosity, she stepped out of the shadows where she had been hiding and, as the door swung open, asked in
an awed voice:
"How do you know my lullaby?"
_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Draco managed not to jump at the sound of her voice. Barely. He was tired of being frightened by a little kid and, after his dream, was
definitely not in the mood to be pushed around. So he forced the quick burst of panic and, oddly enough, excitement, down and turned cooly
to face her. The confusion and wonder on her usually expressionless face took him by surprise however and he delivered his intentionally
stinging retort somewhat lamely.
"It doesn't belong to you." he said awkwardly.
"I...I know it doesn't. It's just that I was singing it before, that's all I meant." she said quietly, bowing her head. For some reason, this
sent a spark of anger into Draco's belly and he rediscovered the strength to snap at the little redhead.
"Oh don't give me that, Weasel. You can't go back to being all meek and mild now that you've shown me a temper than can rival my own. I
won't believe it. You might be able to convince your beloved Potter of that personality, he couldn't care less anyway, but you may as well yell and scream
at me. I already know your true colors." With that she raised her chin and threw back her shoulders. A smoldering light was in her eyes and he
could see the way she clenched her fists inside her sleeves.
"There you go! I knew you had it in you." he laughed, only mildly cruelly.
It was really amazing what provoking a Weasley could do for his moods. Right now his anger and bitterness had washed away to only minor
aches in the back of his throat. However, melancholy was still clinging to his skin like oil and he knew she could tell that his heart wasn't
in the insults he tossed her way. Maybe that was why her response came out rather softer than he expected.
"Shut up, Malfoy. I'm really not in the mood."
"Well neither am I. So why don't you go away and we can both sit in peace for the rest of the night?"
"Because I can't resist this place any better than you can." she said. "If you're so anxious to be alone tonight, then you do the leaving."
He opened his mouth to deliver a smart retort and then closed it with a frown. 'If I'M so anxious to be alone? What about her? Isn't she dying
to get rid of me?' His devious mind concocted several cruel phrases to taunt her with, but to his surprise he suppressed them and said:
"I don't mind sharing if you don't."
A look of surprise no greater than his own passed over her fair face and then she said somewhat awkwardly and haltingly:
"Uh...sure. I mean, sometimes...talking it out...helps. Or so I've heard."
Ugh! This was getting much to sappy for his tastes. See what Weasley's and several months without a decent night's rest could do to a man? Well,
he was certainly done with the whole 'nice' thing!
"I didn't say anything about talking, you pathetic little Weasel. Although I suppose you need to take whatever human contact you can find. Besides,
what makes you think I want to hear about all of your problems? You'd probably babble on about your 'unrequited love for Potter' for half the night
and that would make me physically ill. We can share this room as long as you stay on the opposite side where I can't see or hear you." He felt he
had sufficiently made up for his earlier lapse of character. However, he felt a tiny, niggling thread of guilt when he saw her deep brown eyes
widen in hurt shock, then narrow into a malevolent glare.
"You unbelievably disgusting prat." she said, utterly calm, then turned on her heel and strode away.
Draco was left with a difficult decision. Did he pursue, or did he go into the room as he had planned? He pondered for a moment, hearing her footfalls
fade in the distance. With a huge, put upon sigh, he pushed the stone frieze shut and jogged down the corridor after that insufferable little redhead.