Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.
Chapter 6:
Shoes and Socks
Sleep was a thing often said to be therapeutic. 'Sleep on it, dear,' Ginny could remember hearing more times than she could count. Either that or, 'you'll feel better in the morning.' And often times it proved to be sound advice. Yes, there was something about lying unconscious for hours on end that cleared the mind and dulled harsh emotions.
How strange that it didn't seem to work this time.
It was Saturday morning and Ginny stood across from her nemesis in the crowded Great Hall, refusing to meet his eyes. She didn't want the vicious anger she had so carefully nursed to be softened by any looks of remorse – not that she expected any from him.
Initially, she admitted to herself, hurt had prevailed over anger, but as she had walked away from him (and her detention, though Snape hadn't yet mentioned it) the pain had dulled into a bitter anger. She had trusted him, relaxed, dropped her guard, and then he had betrayed her, his words raining down on her as hard as Hagrid's fist. Her anger was perfectly just; righteous in every way… but also completely and utterly pathetic.
Well, that was how she felt, anyway. It was embarrassing to think that she had, for a few brief moments, considered Draco Malfoy a… friend. It was humiliating to know that she was not truly angry with him, but with herself. And it was absolutely mortifying to realize that she had let him hurt her – that she had expected him to be better than he was and she had done it on her own. That wasn't the worst of it, though. What really made her hang her head, what curled her hands into fists at her sided, was that she still expected something of him, though she wasn't quite sure what that was.
She certainly hoped it wasn't an apology, because she knew if that was what she anticipated she would never be satisfied.
Oddly enough, that only served to make her angrier.
"Good morning, my dears," Professor Trelawney swept into the room, nearly late because she refused to dine with the rest of the staff and students. Some said it was a miracle she had agreed to risk 'fogging her inner eye amidst the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts' to come down and teach this class. "I've seen you all are ready to begin."
They had moved on to a different sort of dance, slightly (and only just slightly) reminiscent of a modern slow dance, though there was to be considerably less contact between partners. It still managed to make Ginny uncomfortable – not least because it was far from unpleasant to be near him physically. There was an evil little part of her that wished he were more inclined to the shallow end of the gene pool. Or whatever it was that made him so damn attractive.
In unison with the rest of the students, she moved to begin the lesson, stepping across the gap usually occupied by the Gryffindor table towards Draco. He took her hands and Ginny's eyes flew downward to alight on her boots rather than meet his gaze. She had to fight at keeping her grip loose; afraid she might grind his bones to dust along with those gloves.
Gratitude for the sheaths on his hands washed over her anger for a moment, though it had all the effect of light rainfall over a fortress of stone. She hoped she would never have to touch him directly again!
"Anything of interest down there?"
Ginny jumped, but didn't look up, as Draco spoke, his voice a low whisper. She probably would have – no matter how unwillingly – found it incredibly sexy any other time. Oh, Hell, even now she did – but she was still bloody angry!
"Not particularly, no," she bit out between gritted teeth because past her growing irritation she could think of nothing else to say.
"Then perhaps you'd care to stop staring at your shoes," he drawled, and she was glad she had yet to look him in the eye. "You might as well be conversing with them, with the way you're looking at them."
"Well, they'd certainly be more pleasant to talk to than you!" Ginny snapped, looking up and away again in time to catch his eyes widen. His chance to respond was lost, fortunately perhaps for them both, as Professor Trelawney spoke in her clouded voice and the lesson began.
Always before in such sessions, the steps had come easily to Ginny. It was almost calming to slip into the simple routines. This time, however, her usual grace continued to elude her (as it did nearly everywhere else, though that was not the point). It added to her heaping pile of frustration as, brow furrowed, she tried so hard to get it right.
"If you're trying to break my hand, you're doing an excellent job of it," she heard Draco mutter and she loosened her grip, not quite as guiltily as she would have another time. "Not quite on top of the ball today, are we?"
Professor Trelawney called for a step to the right. She went left.
"No. Now kindly stop talking to me."
"Kindly?" he arched a brow, his voice peppered with amusement. If looks could kill he'd be dead where he stood… or his shoes would, at least.
"Excuse me – forgot who I was speaking to. You wouldn't know kindness if it kicked you in the arse – something that desperately needs to be done."
She missed another of her Professor's orders.
"That's better," said Draco, a bare semblance of a smile gracing his lips. "Though with your mental capacities I can't blame you for failing to remember." On second thought it was more of a smirk.
Merlin, but he was infuriating!
"Listen, Malfoy," she managed to get out. She was fairly sure she was crushing his hands again. "I'm going to say this very slowly; If you don't want me to do you serious bodily harm you will not say another word to me for as long as I live. My 'mental capacities' are none of your concern. Got it?"
"Actually they are my concern." As Draco opened his mouth to voice his next remark, Professor Trelawney called out the next step. A fatal combination. "I feel as if I'm dancing with a dying hippogriff."
Ginny saw red. All she could do was fume silently….
And bring her foot down hard on top of his. Yes – she was wearing the boots.
For one beautiful moment she was at peace with the world. And then guilt rose up like a gigantic wave over her blissful beach and she was crushed beneath it and dragged out into the sea. She hadn't meant to hurt him. Not really. Certainly, she hadn't expected to hurt him. But there he was, on the floor, clutching his foot and cursing up a storm. The First and Second Years tittered as obscenities rained over them. Storm indeed.
"Oh, Merlin – I'm sorry, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean – well, I did, but not – I'm sorry!" Ginny was stumbling all over herself with apologies, on her knees beside him. She was still trying to apologize, and he was still uttering obscenities, though that had faded to more of a mutter, when Professor Trelawney came up behind him.
"I knew I sensed an unnatural tension in the air. Miss Weasley, you must escort your partner to the Hospital Wing immediately."
Cheeks burning with mortification, Ginny managed to help Draco up, glad when he didn't push her away completely, though he did look rather sour about the whole thing. Well, Ginny could understand that. She wouldn't be too happy either, if their situations were reversed.
As they walked down the corridors in an uncomfortable silence, she noted his limp and winced, wondering just how hard she had hit him. It was almost a relief he had finally decided to stop speaking to her. Even if it was a little late in the game.
She left Draco with Madam Pomfrey and headed off, feeling as though she could to nothing right and hoping desperately to make it up.
Draco wondered groggily, as his head began to clear of sleeping draught, if Ginny Weasley had in fact known that he had stubbed his left toe far too many times this week, that a stray bludger had tackled his foot a few short nights ago during Quidditch practice, that she had decided to step on the same bloody foot she had also managed to nail with her grossly over-sized trunk at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters! Too many damned coincidences.
He also wondered if the sleeping draught had really been necessary or if Pomfrey had just decided she'd had enough of him because he could be an annoying bastard and he knew it.
Only a few hours had passed while he slept, but that draught had been powerful. So much that he was still feeling the effects minutes after waking up. Thoughts crawled across his brain like snails across hot pavement, his head felt as if it were encased in cotton, and his body as if it were hidden under three hundred pounds of the stuff. It went far, far beyond lethargic. He had yet to open his eyes and he could only breathe in the sterile hospital air.
But beyond the numbness there was something different, something changed… Draco didn't feel the need to move, to look around the room, to do anything. He felt oddly content… almost peaceful.
What the hell did she drug me with? he wondered, and as soon as the thought appeared it was gone and he found he really didn't care. For a while he lay there, swimming in the pools of darkness behind his eyes, before puzzlement invaded his peace.
He knew what had changed. The guilt was gone.
It had only grown since Ginny walked away during their detention, and as much as he had tried to rationalize the entire thing, it had only seemed to gradually get worse. So, he had decided to test the waters of the little Weasley's temper and it really wasn't the best decision he'd ever made. Yep, it ranked right up there with snitching on Potter in his first year.
An eye for an eye, I suppose, Draco thought miserably, not feeling quite so tranquil anymore. He hurt her, she hurt him – they were even… if you barred the fact that she had literally crushed his foot. A part of him screamed that he ought to be furious with the little Weasley. And that part was quickly becoming a major irritant as he found he simply could not be.
Maybe he was secretly some sort of masochist. Or maybe he had deserved it – no, more likely he was as masochistic as they come. But if that were the case at least Ginny Weasley would be perfect for him.
Gods, was he delirious.
In a vain effort to escape his harrying thoughts Draco opened his eyes to the light of the afternoon, shining brilliantly on white bed-sheets. And that feeling of peace swept over him again in a torrent so strong it was futile to struggle against it.
Hair lit a fiery orange, falling in waves over her back and shoulders, spilling over her folded arms to lie against his sheets like a pastel waterfall, she slept, only halfway in a chair at his bedside. Her skin was white like milk, paling behind the long lashes tickling her cheeks, and over the innocent bridge of her nose a spray of faded freckles peeked out where the sun had kissed her. The skin of her lips looked soft as satin, pink and lush as a rosebud's petals. She was an angel against the stark white of his sheets where she rested her head.
And he would be damned to Hell before he admitted any such thing aloud.
Draco's eyes fled her face, swiftly falling instead on a leather-bound book in her lap. It appeared to be some sort of journal, as it had no title, and it also appeared to be edging towards the end of her knee. The thing teetered on the brink of falling for just a moment before plummeting to the floor with a clap that seemed loud in the deathly stillness of the room. All Draco could think to do was watch it, and then watch Ginny as she awoke with a start.
Her eyes scanned the room dazedly, as if she had forgotten where she was, and then they landed on him and widened. Effortlessly he held her gaze and found himself oddly pleased when she blushed.
"If you were aiming for my arse," he finally decided to say, "you were off by quite a bit."
"I – I'm sorry… I really am… I didn't mean to do any real damage, and I – I'm… so sorry," she appeared at a loss. He snorted.
"You've apologized enough times, now, I think."
"Sorry –" Draco gave her a disparaging look "– But I just… don't want you to be too terribly angry with me…"
He arched a brow quizzically. "Why?"
"Well… we're around each other enough for it to make a difference, aren't we? And I already feel horribly guilty about it – Oh! Does… this mean you're not angry, then?"
"You're going to keep apologizing if I say no, aren't you?"
"Without a doubt."
"I'm not mad."
"Good!" she smiled, and Draco had to wonder why a very small part of him was relieved. "Because if you were I would have done all that work for nothing."
She began to rummage in her book-bag and Draco had a feeling Ginny didn't believe they were quite even yet. What was that old saying? 'Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' or some-such nonsense. He had never in his life taken it seriously until now.
"I changed my mind. I am mad – no… wait. You are," he finished with a sigh as he saw what she had in store.
"You see, I charmed them to change temperatures according to the temperature of your…"
Draco had long since stopped listening. He was much more preoccupied with staring in horror at the miss-matched socks that dangled from her hands. Smiling bats and stripes of orange and violet decorated one, while the other was adorned with blue owls and fat yellow cats with big eyes. Together they looked like a pet shop gone horribly, horribly wrong.
"… had already bought them, and you said something about Dobby's socks – You're not even listening, are you, Draco?"
That brought him out of his nightmarish-sock-induced stupor.
"Hey – what's this 'Draco' business?"
"Oh! Well… it's your name isn't it?" suddenly she looked very shy and began to fold the socks together in her lap. But the name sounded good on her lips – hell, it sounded good on anybody's lips! It was his, after all. "It just slipped out – I didn't think you were paying attention…"
"Please. Spare me the extended apology sequence. Call me whatever you want."
It was only when a mischievous grin spread over her face that he realized his error.
"Really? How about git? Moron? Prat? Daft –" The list went on…
"Let me rephrase that…" Draco trailed off, and watched, astonished, as Ginny Weasley began to giggle. What really surprised him was not her laughter itself, but the unfamiliar urge to laugh with her. And what totally floored him was the realization that they were behaving like friends.
Funny. When had that happened?
His train of thought broke off as Madam Pomfrey strode up to the bed.
"Well, now that the draught has worn off you should be all right, but those bones were splintered fairly badly. I'm only going to take one more look," she glanced at Ginny. "Miss Weasley I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."
Ginny blinked, then nodded and rose from the chair, slinging her book-bag over one shoulder.
"Well, goodbye, Malfoy. I'll see you… eventually, I suppose."
Draco sighed. "Yes, I suppose it can't be helped."
He was rewarded with a pair of atrocious socks to the head.
A/N: Ok… well, I don't think Ginny is the type to hold grudges; she gets angry, but she doesn't mean to hurt anyone and when she does she feels really bad about it. That's why she forgave Draco and wanted to give him the socks – socks because he had a foot injury, get it? Well, it made sense to me… at some point. I dunno… this chapter amused me, and of it makes no sense to you I'm terribly sorry – what can I say? I suffer from chronic stupidity. Reviews (erm… if you just said you liked it all I can say is thanks so… I'm not going to reply, as happy as I am to recieve such reviews):
Bulma Greenleaf: Of course he likes Ginny! He just doesn't know it yet… or doesn't want to – De Nile ain't just a river in Egypt, you know! (Sorry, I couldn't resist -.-;) Anyway, I'll try not to meet any untimely demises ^^
ZetaBee: Erm…. It's good Draco's having second thoughts? Heh – not for Ginny, poor girl…
Socchan: Don't worry… I'll be able to say the same thing in a few years if all goes according to plan…
Karen: Yes… wet Draco….*snaps out of fantasy* uh – what? Oh, yes, the review; glad you liked the detention scene. I wasn't too sure if it would go over well… but I guess it did^^
PrincessofIllFate: *Hands PrincessofIllFate a tissue* I'm sorry… but be consoled! It will happen eventually, I swear!
Mandy: Hmm…. Actually I hadn't even considered putting Snape behind them… it never occurred to me, probably because the 'having detention together' thing is so over-done I only wanted it to happen once… or just because I'm un-creative and slightly… er… special in the head… Yeah, Order of the Pheonix did have a lack of Draco – though he did have a funny line or two. Ack – I wish I had read this review sooner or I would of called… maybe we can go this weekend?
Waterfairy-rose: Erm… I… 'rock', you say? I wish I could believe you, but my self-esteem is too fragile… actually, no it's not – Whoo! I rock! *dances*… *ahem*, anyway, you're probably thinking Draco is at least middle OOC right now, aren't you? Yeah, this chapter is a little weird… oh well, I can live with that… I think… So – now do you see the relevance of the shoes? No? Ok, then, I'm a failure… I was just trying to make things coincidental and stuff… did it work? No, again? Yikes, I'm untalented… I hope this chapter wasn't too… erm… 'silly'… even though it was supposed to be… Oh, and yes, I love long reviews! They are angels sent from heaven! …and the wonderful people who care enough to comment on my story…