Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 4:
After Midnight
It was nearing half-past midnight, and only starlight brightened the Gryffindor Fifth Year girls' dorm. The lamps had long since been put out, and the bed curtains drawn closed. All was quiet but for the gentle snores and deep breathing of the room's sleeping occupants and in that profound, gentle silence a rumble took to the air.
Ginny rolled over beneath her sheets for the thousandth time, clutching her empty stomach. Oh, but she was hungry! She had missed dinner completely and only eaten a very light lunch. Like all her brothers she had inherited a fondness for food and so, hunger bore into her more strongly than it might on oh… say… Hermione – who was, along with Ron, entirely at fault for her missing dinner in the first place.
Yes, the two of them had been friends since First Year. Yes, Ginny had caught them holding hands (or engaging in other activities…) often enough to know they were much more than that. And yes, the two of them got on famously – when they weren't at each other's throats, that is. They fought with each other almost as much as she did with Malfoy.
Generally they only argued over little things, like Ron's study habits, but every so often they would explode. Not that Ginny ever worried for them – if she herself deemed it puke-worthy to watch them making up after one of their smaller fights, then one can only guess at what happens after a larger tiff, since no one is willing to stay and find out.
But this time Hermione seemed to be truly hurt, and Ron seemed to be truly at a loss as to what he ought to do about it. Ginny to the rescue! Ugh! Just because I don't have a love life of my own to speak of, she thought, frowning, doesn't mean I have time to sit around and help others with theirs! Honestly she had been more than happy to help at the time, but now that her stomach was kissing her spine rather noisily she was singing a different tune.
A growl like the sound of a dying cat flew into the darkness and Ginny made up her mind then and there. She needed food and there was one place to get it.
She slipped out from beneath her covers and crawled to the edge of her bed where she set her trunk. After rummaging through it she finally came to her pile of ragged footwear. She needed new shoes, and badly. Glancing from her nearly too-small sneakers to the cold stone floor and back again, she decided to settle for socks. She pulled on a robe and slipped a pair of stockings over her bare feet. They would be quieter anyway.
It was as she wandered down the stairs and out of the Gryffindor common room that having six (seven counting Harry) older brothers finally seemed to have some sort of benefit for Ginny. Ron had let slip the secret to entering the kitchens. Percy, in his eagerness to discuss his responsibilities as Prefect, had mentioned the hall patrols only lasted until around midnight. And from the twins she had picked up all the different ways to creep around the castle.
No, getting to the kitchens as she had done many times before would not be a problem – all she had to do was avoid Filch. Actually staying there, however, would prove to be a difficult task, as Ginny discovered upon entering the kitchens and finding it devoid of the house elves who delighted her with their strange way of speaking and long-eared presence. In their place was one slimy blonde Slytherin, seated on a tall stool by the counter. He looked surprised to see her.
"What the hell are you doing here!?"
He was surprised to see her.
"Oh, I suppose it's against the rules to grab a midnight snack?" her stomach growled for emphasis. Draco lowered his brows at her.
"Actually… it is against the rules…" He turned from her to the steaming mug he had been nursing as if she were below his notice. It was strange, the way perfect outrage between them faded sometimes into bare tolerance. It didn't happen often, but it was there. It was the reason one of them hadn't simply got up and left the room. It was the reason Malfoy hadn't shot some 'witty' retort at her – well, actually that was probably just good fortune, and it would be foolish to question it… but that didn't stop her from questioning everything else. Damn her curiosity.
"You're a Prefect, aren't you?" She glanced at the pin on his robe, already knowing the answer. "And you're not going to report me?"
"No. You're not worth my time."
Ginny decided to ignore that last remark. "Why not? You ill or something?" she asked, pulling up a stool beside him.
"My patrol shift ended a half hour ago – it would be stupid."
"Oh…Where'd the house elves disappear to?"
"Full of questions this evening, aren't you, Weasley?" he drawled, looking somewhat exasperated. "They don't like me. There is more than one room around here. You put it together." She digested this silently for a moment, wondering when house elves found the time to sleep. "Nice pajamas, by the way."
With an almost terrified squeak and a blush that covered her entire face, Ginny closed her robes over the old night gown she had forgotten she was wearing. It was pink – or it had been once, though it was so faded now it looked nearly white – and the thing was so utterly girlish it was decorated with blue stars and golden crescent moons and slightly ruffled at the hem and sleeves. The only good thing about it was that it hadn't yet gotten too short, still able to brush the backs of her knees, but that wasn't much of a counter point. It was terribly ugly, but her mother wouldn't buy her a new one on the grounds that 'no one really sees what you wear to bed.'
And Draco Malfoy had seen her wearing it, and most likely did care, and he was probably laughing his ass off at that very moment. But when Ginny finally summoned up the courage to peek at him from beneath her hair she found that he wasn't. He certainly looked amused – very, very amused – but he wasn't actually laughing.
She took a chance and attempted to form a coherent response.
"I… could say the same to you."
It didn't work very well.
"No you couldn't. These are my clothes."
"Oh… so they are…" she said, nodding once to herself in confirmation. Her stomach was eating itself by now…
"Not your night, is it, Weasel? Tell me, has your head been injured recently? Because that would explain –"
"Oh, quiet! I can't think when I'm starving!"
As if on cue a rather small door creaked open in the corner of the room and a head peeked out.
"Is Miss wanting something?"
Ginny eagerly hopped off her stool and neared the house elf. "Yes, please, I'm very hungry – have you got any… sausages? Or Yorkshire pudding?" She distinctly heard Draco mutter, "Sausages and pudding?" from behind her, and could almost see the expression of mixed disgust and surprise, but… it didn't anger her as it should have. Rather… it made her want to laugh.
When she looked back on it, their conversation thus far had held a tinge of … of – well if she didn't know better she would have said friendliness, but that was quite impossible. It was like his mocking her with those gloves a week and five days ago (it being a Thursday night, or Friday morning, really) only a little bit more so. Ginny was somewhat in awe of how easy it was to leave the venom from her words.
"Yes, yes. Can Norry get anything else for Miss?"
Ginny blinked, pulled out of her thoughts by the high pitched question. "Ah… no, thanks – oh, wait! Is Dobby around? Can you send him out?"
It was in her fourth year when she had first begun to visit the kitchens that she had met the incorrigible house elf who was featured every so often in Ron's chatter. Instantly she had taken a liking to him, and his amusing antics. He had seemed so terribly happy when she had given him a spotted tie for Christmas (though he had requested socks if she were ever to be so kind again) that Ginny couldn't help but continue to visit. Besides that, house elves made wonderful company when one was lonely (or hungry, for that matter).
"Why, yes, Miss. Norry will fetch Dobby if it pleases Miss – and Norry won't forget the pudding and the sausage. No, no." The elf, Norry, gave a little bow and scurried off deeper into the kitchens to fulfill her requests. Ever eager to please, house elves were, and Ginny had learned early on that there was no way to get them to change.
"What could you possibly want with my old house elf? And pudding with sausage for that matter?"
She turned to glance at Draco, remembering just who it was Harry had freed the little elf from. "That's right he was yours, wasn't he?" She cocked her head at him. "I don't think he likes you very much."
"Big surprise," Malfoy rolled his eyes then muttered as if to himself, "Not as if I was the one ordering him around…"
"Oh, I'm sure you were bad enough," she told him flippantly, turning back to the door as it creaked open again and a familiar face popped out. Upon seeing her Dobby smiled excitedly and opened the door, bearing a tray piled high with steaming sausages and dishes of Yorkshire pudding. She took the tray grinning back at him, silently marveling at the speed at which house elves were able to do their work.
"Miss Ginny! Dobby is not often seeing Ginny after dark. Is Miss Ginny needing something from Dobby?"
Smiling, Ginny shook her head, sending strands of red flying all over. "I just came down for a midnight snack and thought I'd say hello. Come and sit with me?"
She headed back towards her abandoned stool by the counter, but Dobby remained where he was, looking quite rigid in his long, droopy socks, plaid shorts, and tie. With a sigh she looked from him, to Draco – who was paying more attention to his mug than the elf – and back. That Malfoy always troubled her in some way, even when he wasn't being as much of a prat as usual.
"Dobby… is very busy, Miss Ginny. Perhaps Miss Ginny might come another time?"
"Alright…" she began, but the house elf was already gone. Setting down her tray she cast cold eyes over Draco, wishing she had something to hit him with, though truthfully she wasn't all that angry. "You scared him away!"
"You just carried on a conversation with a house elf," he told her stonily. "A house elf wearing socks with… pigs on them."
"I… don't see how that's of any relevance…" she faltered, then added on a side note, "and they're cats, not pigs – I rather like them."
"It's not. But I can't begin to tell you how odd you looked doing it." Ginny raised an eyebrow.
"Don't I always look odd to you?"
"That's right. Thanks for reminding me."
"Any time."
With that she turned her focus towards the tray in front of her and dug in with relish, beginning with the sausages. They were still warm from the pan and absolutely delicious – almost as good as her mum's! And that was saying something. So engrossed was she with the filling of her empty stomach that all thoughts of a certain Slytherin faded from her mind. That's why she was nearly startled as she bit into her fourth sausage – no, fifth or maybe sixth – oh, who was counting anyway? She was startled when Draco spoke.
"Could you possibly make more noise with that?" It was strange to hear the taunts without the sneer, but Ginny didn't try to examine that odd companionable feeling. Draco wasn't sneering, he wasn't even looking at her. He appeared to be grimacing into his mug. "I think the entire castle hasn't heard you yet."
A grin lit Ginny's face and she purposely began to eat more noisily, smacking her lips together, and taking exaggerated gulps of food. Draco cringed next to her, his face twisting in disgust – it had a nasty habit of doing that around her. Just like she had a nasty habit of narrowing her eyes around him.
"What was that? I didn't hear you correctly."
"Alright, I'll repeat it for you. I said: you disgust me more than anything else on this planet."
"Really?" she asked, not at all bothered by the blatant insult. "Even more than Harry? Or Ron?"
He appeared to think on her question for a moment, staring into whatever filled the cup in his hands. She didn't know exactly what he had been drinking – or, rather, not drinking – but it smelled pleasantly like coffee and warm chocolate.
"It's different," he said finally. "I hate them. You, I simply find disgusting."
Ginny blinked, caught off-guard by the statement. "But… you hate me too, right?"
"No – not really. And at least you can throw out an insult without trying to rearrange my face – which is more than I can say for your twit of a brother."
"That was nearly a compliment, Malfoy! You sure you're not ill?"
"Don't get the wrong idea," Draco's eyes widened fractionally in an alarmed manner. "I still dislike you intensely. And I'm perfectly healthy, thanks."
"I'm not so sure…" Ginny said, giving him a sidelong glance and reaching out for his forehead. "Let me check for fever."
Outside of Quidditch she had never seen Draco move so fast as when he leapt off his stool to avoid her outstretched hand. The stool tipped over and fell to the floor with a noisy clatter, but neither of them really noticed the noise as Ginny's stool joined his on the floor when she went after him, laughing.
"Keep your filthy hands away from my face, Weasel," he ordered, moving swiftly to put the counter between them. Grinning, Ginny licked a finger, laughing harder when he scowled at her. "You are not coming near me."
"I'm only concerned for your health," she said, giving him an 'innocent' look from beneath her lashes. Then she began edge her way towards him, moving slowly around one side of the counter. The side that did not face the kitchen door. Before she could fully round one corner, he made a dash for the entryway, but she caught up with him when the fallen stools barred his path and stepping over them proved to be his downfall. With a triumphant smile Ginny caught him before he could reach the door and clapped a hand above his eyes.
Chills ran through her hand, traveling up her arm and flowing through her, sending shivers down her spine. Her palm was seared with heat where it touched his flesh and she snatched it away from him as if it had been burned. Which, in a way, it had.
Ginny was sure her eyes had never been wider as she met his shocked, steel gaze. What was that? A mere glance at Draco as he ran a hand through is hair and looked disbelievingly at her told her he had experienced the same oddity. Shakily, and before she knew what she was doing, Ginny reached towards him again, never dropping his gaze. What was that?
This was the scene that lay before one Argus Filch as he walked through the door.
A/N: This chapter is kind of long… right? Oh well, its one of the ones I actually _like_ so far… erm… I have nothing more to say, so on to the reviews!
Fire Of The Stars: Gah – I didn't answer your review in the last chapter! I'm sorry!! You have my sincerest apologies… erm…anyway, to answer your question the ball is for the 1500's – I don't think I ever mentioned that, but it's not supposed to be a secret… just bad writing skills on my part -.-;;… Heh, well I'm glad you think Draco and Ginny are in-character! I get nervous about writing them because they're characters in an _actual_ book and have been written much more successfully by J.K.R… Ack – I have to stop babbling now – I'm glad you liked the story!
Mandy: Er… yes, fun… or a bit dull – I'm hoping people don't get bored with it because there is going to be a _lot_ more character interaction. Brace yourself, eh ^_~?
Socchan: Erm… but I _can't_ write humor! Really, I can't! … so, you thought it was funny? Hehe, so did my friend (the one who helped me come up w/ this), but I was too timid to add 'humor' to the genre… I like to think of it as 'amusing.' If that was a genre I think I would use it…
Karen: *Sniffs* You don't know how nice it is to hear that… actually you probably do, but still… encouragement does me good! Actually, it probably does everybody good… I'm just going to stop talking now… I'm not making any sense… But I'm glad you liked it!
Rach W: They don't really hate each other… as you can see from this chapter, but they don't exactly like each other either… I like to think they've reached a sort of grudging friendship. And yeah, I probably will have that sort of thing going on… *sighs* it's kind of hard to avoid with D/G… not that I mind or anything ^^;