Horrid Ferret. Nice Ferret. Horrid Ferret.
Malfoy had the strange effect of making the three Ginnys coalesce into one single, seething woman. "Indebted to Malfoy, Weasel?" she thought with happy anger. "For the first and last time, sweetheart!" Her hatred filled her with energy and she ran down to breakfast the next day with the fury still burning in her.
"I feel good now I've got someone to hate for life," she chuckled sharply to herself. "I mean to make the most of this." She rounded the corner and saw Malfoy just ahead of her, walking calmly in to breakfast. She was shaking so hard with rage and nerves that she had to stop for a moment.
Before she could control herself, she had launched herself forward. She didn't hit him full in the back but she made sure she got in a vicious swipe at him with her bag. Unfortunately, it connected. Malfoy stumbled forward.
She froze, uncertain whether to carry on as if nothing had happened or stutter out some apology. That was her downfall; now he definitely knew it was her. "What the HELL did you think you were doing, Weasley?" he said, his voice hoarse with anger.
Oh dear. He not only knew that she was the one who had knocked into him, but he also seemed to have a pretty good idea that she had done it with quite vicious intentions. She never knew what made her say it, never managed to figure it out the countless times she went over it in her mind later. "Well, Malfoy," she spat, "What did it look like? You stumbled, you idiot. Don't blame me if you can't walk straight."
He turned a dark red with anger. He almost seemed to grow in his rage. "You, Weasley," he said, bending down and pushing his face forward until she could feel the spit flying from his mouth, "are a piece of scummy filth, a dirty, trashy girl who's barely four feet off the floor. I would call you blind except that you have a pair of exceptionally ugly eyes bugging out of your idiot head. Learn to use them properly or, by all the gods, you'll feel my boot on your fat backside if you ever so much as brush by me again."
She couldn't stop shaking as she went into the Great Hall. She barely ate, she couldn't look up at anyone else, much less at the Slytherin table. She heard the snickers from that direction of the room and knew that they were directed at her slumped-down back. She turned hot and cold alternately from fear and humiliation.
He had been on the point of hitting her, she could feel it. Some of the people who had witnessed it looked curiously at her as they passed. Malfoy had certainly turned ugly at the poor girl. What had she done?
Ginny was more worried about what he would do next. She swore that she would never look at him again or go anywhere near him. She would be late for all her classes rather than walk down a corridor with him in it. If Slytherin were playing at a match, she wouldn't attend unless Gryffindor were playing to.
She would punish him in the only way she knew how: by completely obliterating any knowledge of his existence from her mind. Malfoy had again succeeded in uniting all the different voices in her head. And the rage and humiliation were useful in a way: they made her feel alive.
The incident stayed with her the entire day. She felt as someone would feel recovering from a major wound - it tingled whenever she thought about the humiliation and she lost herself in playing the incident over and over again in her mind.
As she walked into the Potions classroom, she was almost high on the surge of hatred that washed over her whenever she thought about him. Malfoy was in the office as usual. She began to tremble slightly and flush hard, but she stopped herself. "Imagine he's the scarab beetles you're mashing," she told herself, "this is his face you're cutting up into tiny pieces."
When she had finally started to mix the potion, she realised she had forgotten her dragon-hide gloves. She looked vainly around, wanting to borrow a pair from someone around her. Malfoy was approaching her table, and she decided to look busy and get her hands scalded rather than attract his attention in any way. "Use these," someone said, putting down a rather large pair of gloves. "Spares from the office." The inscrutable, emotionless face looking down at her was Malfoy's.
For a moment she had an urge to throw them in his face. But as Snape had just walked back into the room, she simply looked at him for a moment and then took the gloves. Later she would wonder how she had looked, what it was that he had read into her look. Puzzlement, hatred? Please let him not have thought I was afraid, she would think. Please let me not have looked like a cowering, beaten puppy.
At the end of the lesson he collected the gloves, looking completely indifferent to her reaction. As she turned to leave, he said, "Weasley." She stopped. She later wished she hadn't hesitated before turning around; it made her look as if she were childishly sulking rather than nursing the grudge of a lifetime. "Look where you're going next time." he said in a neutral tone. She was proud of herself for turning away and walking straight out of the dungeon.
But the damage had been done. Though part of her was sore and angry at the morning's incident, hysterical Ginny was being rather treacherous. She seemed to think that what Malfoy had done was some sort of underhand wooing. The other Ginnys had to swipe viciously at her, and imagine tearing large chunks of red hair out of the hysterical one's head before she would stop.
The dark, hidden Ginny had gone back to her staple diet of violent images. But she had evolved in some way. (A/N For those of you who get it, imagine the alien growing inside that bloke's stomach in 'Alien'.) She had become more definite, gained sharp teeth, hungered for violence, rocked the pit of Ginny's stomach in her restlessness.
The silvery staircase finally descended from Trelawney's parlour and a crowd of Gryffindors poured out. Ginny was held up at the back and consequently walked alone back to the common room. Voices from a classroom made her stop; who could be using a classroom at this time? The voices were clear, even though the door was shut.
"And the stupid bitch had the nerve, the actual cheek to pretend that she hadn't tried something!" rang out Malfoy's voice. "Maybe her red-headed idiot of a brother sent her to hex you or something." said someone else. "Man, they hexed us bad in the train!"
"Don't refer to that incident, Goyle." Malfoy said coldly. "About the Weasley bitch though..she had better stay well out of my way if she doesn't want my hands around her scrawny neck!" Ginny didn't wait to hear more details. She fled back to the common room.
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Hmmmm..how did you guys find that? Thanks to Miah, Crystal, Fire Fairy and Venus for reviewing! I don't like good Dracos..they're never like that in real life. He's going to get a lot worse before he gets any better! I'll be updating this in 4-5 days. Bighugs..
Malfoy had the strange effect of making the three Ginnys coalesce into one single, seething woman. "Indebted to Malfoy, Weasel?" she thought with happy anger. "For the first and last time, sweetheart!" Her hatred filled her with energy and she ran down to breakfast the next day with the fury still burning in her.
"I feel good now I've got someone to hate for life," she chuckled sharply to herself. "I mean to make the most of this." She rounded the corner and saw Malfoy just ahead of her, walking calmly in to breakfast. She was shaking so hard with rage and nerves that she had to stop for a moment.
Before she could control herself, she had launched herself forward. She didn't hit him full in the back but she made sure she got in a vicious swipe at him with her bag. Unfortunately, it connected. Malfoy stumbled forward.
She froze, uncertain whether to carry on as if nothing had happened or stutter out some apology. That was her downfall; now he definitely knew it was her. "What the HELL did you think you were doing, Weasley?" he said, his voice hoarse with anger.
Oh dear. He not only knew that she was the one who had knocked into him, but he also seemed to have a pretty good idea that she had done it with quite vicious intentions. She never knew what made her say it, never managed to figure it out the countless times she went over it in her mind later. "Well, Malfoy," she spat, "What did it look like? You stumbled, you idiot. Don't blame me if you can't walk straight."
He turned a dark red with anger. He almost seemed to grow in his rage. "You, Weasley," he said, bending down and pushing his face forward until she could feel the spit flying from his mouth, "are a piece of scummy filth, a dirty, trashy girl who's barely four feet off the floor. I would call you blind except that you have a pair of exceptionally ugly eyes bugging out of your idiot head. Learn to use them properly or, by all the gods, you'll feel my boot on your fat backside if you ever so much as brush by me again."
She couldn't stop shaking as she went into the Great Hall. She barely ate, she couldn't look up at anyone else, much less at the Slytherin table. She heard the snickers from that direction of the room and knew that they were directed at her slumped-down back. She turned hot and cold alternately from fear and humiliation.
He had been on the point of hitting her, she could feel it. Some of the people who had witnessed it looked curiously at her as they passed. Malfoy had certainly turned ugly at the poor girl. What had she done?
Ginny was more worried about what he would do next. She swore that she would never look at him again or go anywhere near him. She would be late for all her classes rather than walk down a corridor with him in it. If Slytherin were playing at a match, she wouldn't attend unless Gryffindor were playing to.
She would punish him in the only way she knew how: by completely obliterating any knowledge of his existence from her mind. Malfoy had again succeeded in uniting all the different voices in her head. And the rage and humiliation were useful in a way: they made her feel alive.
The incident stayed with her the entire day. She felt as someone would feel recovering from a major wound - it tingled whenever she thought about the humiliation and she lost herself in playing the incident over and over again in her mind.
As she walked into the Potions classroom, she was almost high on the surge of hatred that washed over her whenever she thought about him. Malfoy was in the office as usual. She began to tremble slightly and flush hard, but she stopped herself. "Imagine he's the scarab beetles you're mashing," she told herself, "this is his face you're cutting up into tiny pieces."
When she had finally started to mix the potion, she realised she had forgotten her dragon-hide gloves. She looked vainly around, wanting to borrow a pair from someone around her. Malfoy was approaching her table, and she decided to look busy and get her hands scalded rather than attract his attention in any way. "Use these," someone said, putting down a rather large pair of gloves. "Spares from the office." The inscrutable, emotionless face looking down at her was Malfoy's.
For a moment she had an urge to throw them in his face. But as Snape had just walked back into the room, she simply looked at him for a moment and then took the gloves. Later she would wonder how she had looked, what it was that he had read into her look. Puzzlement, hatred? Please let him not have thought I was afraid, she would think. Please let me not have looked like a cowering, beaten puppy.
At the end of the lesson he collected the gloves, looking completely indifferent to her reaction. As she turned to leave, he said, "Weasley." She stopped. She later wished she hadn't hesitated before turning around; it made her look as if she were childishly sulking rather than nursing the grudge of a lifetime. "Look where you're going next time." he said in a neutral tone. She was proud of herself for turning away and walking straight out of the dungeon.
But the damage had been done. Though part of her was sore and angry at the morning's incident, hysterical Ginny was being rather treacherous. She seemed to think that what Malfoy had done was some sort of underhand wooing. The other Ginnys had to swipe viciously at her, and imagine tearing large chunks of red hair out of the hysterical one's head before she would stop.
The dark, hidden Ginny had gone back to her staple diet of violent images. But she had evolved in some way. (A/N For those of you who get it, imagine the alien growing inside that bloke's stomach in 'Alien'.) She had become more definite, gained sharp teeth, hungered for violence, rocked the pit of Ginny's stomach in her restlessness.
The silvery staircase finally descended from Trelawney's parlour and a crowd of Gryffindors poured out. Ginny was held up at the back and consequently walked alone back to the common room. Voices from a classroom made her stop; who could be using a classroom at this time? The voices were clear, even though the door was shut.
"And the stupid bitch had the nerve, the actual cheek to pretend that she hadn't tried something!" rang out Malfoy's voice. "Maybe her red-headed idiot of a brother sent her to hex you or something." said someone else. "Man, they hexed us bad in the train!"
"Don't refer to that incident, Goyle." Malfoy said coldly. "About the Weasley bitch though..she had better stay well out of my way if she doesn't want my hands around her scrawny neck!" Ginny didn't wait to hear more details. She fled back to the common room.
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Hmmmm..how did you guys find that? Thanks to Miah, Crystal, Fire Fairy and Venus for reviewing! I don't like good Dracos..they're never like that in real life. He's going to get a lot worse before he gets any better! I'll be updating this in 4-5 days. Bighugs..
