Enchanted Love
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I stake no claim to the characters, objects, events, and ideas as published by the brilliant J. K. Rowling in her Harry Potter novels or shown in the recent Warner Brothers dramatizations of the first two installments. Any interpretation of characters and events is strictly that. The setting of this fan fiction is winter of Harry's third year at Hogwarts (chronicled in the volume Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), but is in no way actually connected to the events of that book. If I may be brazen, I would like to dedicate this piece of writing to my late grandmother who passed away in September 2000. Though christened Mary Virginia, those fortunate enough to know her did so by the name Gini. Nana, you were ever in my thoughts as I wrote this, intertwined in the plot and in myself.
Chapter One: Tangled Emotions
Ginny Weasley sat in the library, carefully dipping her ragged quill in the inkwell. Her composition was due tomorrow, and Professor Snape didn't like inkblots. Especially from a Gryffindor. The scroll kept rolling back upon itself, and she frantically held it back from smearing the wet ink. She cramped her handwriting, trying to use as little room as possible on the expensive parchment.
She glanced towards her brothers, who, in heightened tones, eagerly discussed with Harry Potter the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. They were framed by the falling snow in the picture window behind; she reflected on the possibility of having a white Christmas. The librarian hissed a "Shh!" in their general direction, spitting accidentally on the open book in front of her, and the noise dropped down to a loud whisper. Ginny stared wistfully at them.
She was in that position when she heard heavy breathing over her shoulder and looked up into the twisted face of Draco Malfoy. "Another redhead Weasel drooling over Potter," he sneered. "How romantic."
Ginny colored to match the auburn hue of her hair. "Go away; you're drooling on my robe," she muttered, sinking down into her seat behind the scroll. He grinned at her discomfort and continued the teasing.
I'll stay right here," he replied. "You're lucky; rags like those aren't normally worth my drool-but wait, that's all Daddy Dearest can afford for you." Ginny kept writing, occasionally sneaking glances at Harry but ignoring Draco, so he tried a different tactic.
"Too bad for the little weasel," he taunted. "What's she to do to win affection? Potter plays off all the girls, just to please them, but he's only got eyes for Granger. He's-"
Ginny hesitantly raised a shaking hand, then slapped him with all the strength that she could muster. He spluttered spitefully and glared at her with murderous malice. "Why you little brat! I'll-"
"Any problem here?" Harry was suddenly behind Ginny, and Draco straightened up sullenly. "It seems, Malfoy, that your insults have a habit of not finishing themselves. And if you, also, do not wish to be finished, I suggest that you leave her alone."
His guarded words and tone seemed to have an effect on Draco. "We'll finish this later, Potter," he muttered, and stalked off.
Ginny looked up adoringly into the face of her lightening-ed white knight. "Thank you," she whispered, in what she hoped was a somewhat flirty voice.
"No problem, kiddo." He ruffled the wisps of her red mark of shame. "Anything for a friend."
(((((((
The Gryffindor commons room was a notorious magnet for sound. Quizzings for a potions test were yelled back and forth across the rooms. Cracked jokes either sent listeners into uproarious laughter, or fell flat as platitudes. Excited voices discussed plans for the Christmas vacation starting the next day.
But there was a lull as Ginny entered. Then silence gave way to thunderous applause and war whoops, the latter courtesy of a group rallied by Fred and George. "We spilled about your victory over the pond scum," They informed her, stating the obvious. "Man, did we teach you well!"
Percy strode up to join them, brushing a piece of lint off his 'Head Boy' badge. He grinned at his sister. "I never knew you had such feistiness in you; must be the red hair," he commented, tugging a few strands. She wished everyone would just leave her and her hair alone. ""We might lose a few points over the incident," he continued, "but I'm very proud-you sure picked the right way to lose them!"
He moved on as Ginny stared after him, flabbergasted. Perfect, Prefect, Head Boy Percy was congratulating her on losing points? Of, course, she thought, the feud. It had been Weasley versus Malfoy for as long as she could remember, and one of the few things that Percy was passionate about. She shrugged and began to weave her way through the throngs.
Amidst the excitement and confusion, she met Harry in the crowd. He pulled her over to a corner, and her heart pounded wildly as he touched her sleeve. "Ron told me what the teasing was about," he began. "I want to thank you for standing up for me. That took a lot of courage, and."
"And.?" she supplied, her lips hinting at a smile, and perhaps a subtle something else.
"I, ah." Harry rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, fingers pausing unconsciously on the scar. "Please don't tell Hermione!" he blurted anxiously, his face appearing as if she were looking through raspberry tinted glass.
"Sure thing," she smiled weakly. "Just returning a favor." So Draco had been right in yet another aspect of his caustic taunts.
"Thanks," he grinned, relieved. "I knew I could count on you. You Weasleys are like family to me." Ginny stared after his retreating figure, and then hurried to her room.
(((((((
Ginny sighed as she lay on the twin bed, rolling over onto her stomach. She fingered the thick fringe on the blue woven bedspread, inveterately braiding the tangled strands as she strove to sort out her tangled emotions.
An errant fly erratically flew around the room in a frantic frostbitten frenzy. Ginny winced at its buzzing as it counted down hours to the fatal fate of a wintry death. She swung her arm towards it, hoping to end its misery, to crush it like her dreams had been crushed.
After three circuits around the room she flopped back on the bed, feeling utterly unsuccessful and useless. She reached for the Muggle-made diary her father had bought for her after the near-death episode last year with Tom Riddle. It was gently used but the Muggle child's pages had been ripped out. She glanced at the giggling cherub baby on the cover, never failing to be amazed at the fact that it didn't move, and opened to a fresh page, proceeding to pour out all the secrets of her tortured heart.
Ginny remembered the first time she had met Harry, when her mother had helped him board the Hogwarts Express. She had gaped at him in amazed awe, instantly setting her standards high. By the time he visited their humble abode the following summer, Ginny had convinced herself that Harry was the only one for her. The pages of that cursed journal had been filled with ramblings of adoration; the feelings had strengthened when he had saved her life.
And all that emotion for nothing. Wasted, like she would waste away without her idyllic idolatrous hopes. She could feel herself growing weaker, weaker.if she died from a broken heart, then Harry would be sorry. With an exaggerated sigh that more resembled the cough of an exhaust pipe, Ginny fell backwards, feigning rigor mortis. Ridiculous. She sat up again quickly and nearly choked on the giggle she was hard pressed to suppress.
But still.as she crawled beneath the bedspread, done with her acting antics, a sob escaped its imprisonment from her throat and her soul. She relived the pain of the repertoire of names that signified nothing more than camaraderie.kiddo, friend, family.weasel? Draco had called her that, not Harry; yet why did it bother her so much? Her mind mulled over the revelation as she gave way to slumber.
Disclaimer/Author's Note: I stake no claim to the characters, objects, events, and ideas as published by the brilliant J. K. Rowling in her Harry Potter novels or shown in the recent Warner Brothers dramatizations of the first two installments. Any interpretation of characters and events is strictly that. The setting of this fan fiction is winter of Harry's third year at Hogwarts (chronicled in the volume Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban), but is in no way actually connected to the events of that book. If I may be brazen, I would like to dedicate this piece of writing to my late grandmother who passed away in September 2000. Though christened Mary Virginia, those fortunate enough to know her did so by the name Gini. Nana, you were ever in my thoughts as I wrote this, intertwined in the plot and in myself.
Chapter One: Tangled Emotions
Ginny Weasley sat in the library, carefully dipping her ragged quill in the inkwell. Her composition was due tomorrow, and Professor Snape didn't like inkblots. Especially from a Gryffindor. The scroll kept rolling back upon itself, and she frantically held it back from smearing the wet ink. She cramped her handwriting, trying to use as little room as possible on the expensive parchment.
She glanced towards her brothers, who, in heightened tones, eagerly discussed with Harry Potter the upcoming Quidditch match against Ravenclaw. They were framed by the falling snow in the picture window behind; she reflected on the possibility of having a white Christmas. The librarian hissed a "Shh!" in their general direction, spitting accidentally on the open book in front of her, and the noise dropped down to a loud whisper. Ginny stared wistfully at them.
She was in that position when she heard heavy breathing over her shoulder and looked up into the twisted face of Draco Malfoy. "Another redhead Weasel drooling over Potter," he sneered. "How romantic."
Ginny colored to match the auburn hue of her hair. "Go away; you're drooling on my robe," she muttered, sinking down into her seat behind the scroll. He grinned at her discomfort and continued the teasing.
I'll stay right here," he replied. "You're lucky; rags like those aren't normally worth my drool-but wait, that's all Daddy Dearest can afford for you." Ginny kept writing, occasionally sneaking glances at Harry but ignoring Draco, so he tried a different tactic.
"Too bad for the little weasel," he taunted. "What's she to do to win affection? Potter plays off all the girls, just to please them, but he's only got eyes for Granger. He's-"
Ginny hesitantly raised a shaking hand, then slapped him with all the strength that she could muster. He spluttered spitefully and glared at her with murderous malice. "Why you little brat! I'll-"
"Any problem here?" Harry was suddenly behind Ginny, and Draco straightened up sullenly. "It seems, Malfoy, that your insults have a habit of not finishing themselves. And if you, also, do not wish to be finished, I suggest that you leave her alone."
His guarded words and tone seemed to have an effect on Draco. "We'll finish this later, Potter," he muttered, and stalked off.
Ginny looked up adoringly into the face of her lightening-ed white knight. "Thank you," she whispered, in what she hoped was a somewhat flirty voice.
"No problem, kiddo." He ruffled the wisps of her red mark of shame. "Anything for a friend."
(((((((
The Gryffindor commons room was a notorious magnet for sound. Quizzings for a potions test were yelled back and forth across the rooms. Cracked jokes either sent listeners into uproarious laughter, or fell flat as platitudes. Excited voices discussed plans for the Christmas vacation starting the next day.
But there was a lull as Ginny entered. Then silence gave way to thunderous applause and war whoops, the latter courtesy of a group rallied by Fred and George. "We spilled about your victory over the pond scum," They informed her, stating the obvious. "Man, did we teach you well!"
Percy strode up to join them, brushing a piece of lint off his 'Head Boy' badge. He grinned at his sister. "I never knew you had such feistiness in you; must be the red hair," he commented, tugging a few strands. She wished everyone would just leave her and her hair alone. ""We might lose a few points over the incident," he continued, "but I'm very proud-you sure picked the right way to lose them!"
He moved on as Ginny stared after him, flabbergasted. Perfect, Prefect, Head Boy Percy was congratulating her on losing points? Of, course, she thought, the feud. It had been Weasley versus Malfoy for as long as she could remember, and one of the few things that Percy was passionate about. She shrugged and began to weave her way through the throngs.
Amidst the excitement and confusion, she met Harry in the crowd. He pulled her over to a corner, and her heart pounded wildly as he touched her sleeve. "Ron told me what the teasing was about," he began. "I want to thank you for standing up for me. That took a lot of courage, and."
"And.?" she supplied, her lips hinting at a smile, and perhaps a subtle something else.
"I, ah." Harry rubbed his forehead with the back of his hand, fingers pausing unconsciously on the scar. "Please don't tell Hermione!" he blurted anxiously, his face appearing as if she were looking through raspberry tinted glass.
"Sure thing," she smiled weakly. "Just returning a favor." So Draco had been right in yet another aspect of his caustic taunts.
"Thanks," he grinned, relieved. "I knew I could count on you. You Weasleys are like family to me." Ginny stared after his retreating figure, and then hurried to her room.
(((((((
Ginny sighed as she lay on the twin bed, rolling over onto her stomach. She fingered the thick fringe on the blue woven bedspread, inveterately braiding the tangled strands as she strove to sort out her tangled emotions.
An errant fly erratically flew around the room in a frantic frostbitten frenzy. Ginny winced at its buzzing as it counted down hours to the fatal fate of a wintry death. She swung her arm towards it, hoping to end its misery, to crush it like her dreams had been crushed.
After three circuits around the room she flopped back on the bed, feeling utterly unsuccessful and useless. She reached for the Muggle-made diary her father had bought for her after the near-death episode last year with Tom Riddle. It was gently used but the Muggle child's pages had been ripped out. She glanced at the giggling cherub baby on the cover, never failing to be amazed at the fact that it didn't move, and opened to a fresh page, proceeding to pour out all the secrets of her tortured heart.
Ginny remembered the first time she had met Harry, when her mother had helped him board the Hogwarts Express. She had gaped at him in amazed awe, instantly setting her standards high. By the time he visited their humble abode the following summer, Ginny had convinced herself that Harry was the only one for her. The pages of that cursed journal had been filled with ramblings of adoration; the feelings had strengthened when he had saved her life.
And all that emotion for nothing. Wasted, like she would waste away without her idyllic idolatrous hopes. She could feel herself growing weaker, weaker.if she died from a broken heart, then Harry would be sorry. With an exaggerated sigh that more resembled the cough of an exhaust pipe, Ginny fell backwards, feigning rigor mortis. Ridiculous. She sat up again quickly and nearly choked on the giggle she was hard pressed to suppress.
But still.as she crawled beneath the bedspread, done with her acting antics, a sob escaped its imprisonment from her throat and her soul. She relived the pain of the repertoire of names that signified nothing more than camaraderie.kiddo, friend, family.weasel? Draco had called her that, not Harry; yet why did it bother her so much? Her mind mulled over the revelation as she gave way to slumber.