Chapter Six: Fancy You
"You're blood."
Draco's eyes fluttered open. That same, blasted dream again. He'd secretly been hoping that the dreams would escalate; the whole blood thing was really starting to freak him out. But no, it remained the same. Absolutely nothing had changed — though now he had the strangest urge to buy leather pants.
Slowly, he sat up in his bed. He had been in the Hospital Wing enough times from Quidditch injuries to know that he was, in fact, back. Why he was back, though, he had no idea. His headache was better now — Pomphrey must've done something to him. But the throbbing still lingered, and with every turn of his head, he felt that oh-so familiar shock race through his temple.
He sighed, his mind wandering back to the dreams.
Stop it.
He was constantly haunted by those visions — images that made so much sense, while making no sense at all. Why did they continue to badger him? What did they mean, if they meant anything at all?
And why the bloody hell was the youngest Weasley asleep on the chair next to him?
He stared wide-eyed at the fragile figure that had nestled herself into what looked like a rather uncomfortable position in the equally uncomfortable-looking chair.
He pondered whether to poke her awake or not. Judging from the sunlight dipping inside the room, he had slept on to the next day. And by the looks of the Weasley girl's state of clothing, she had been there as long as he had. Doing what, he wondered. Surely not waiting for him. He hardly remembered her name. What was it? Grace... Patrica... Tabitha?
No, that wasn't right.
Draco's brows blended together while he tried his hardest to remember the girl's name. Ginger... Penny... Ginny! Or was it Jenny? Draco let out a growl of frustration. Not only was knowing the girl's name now plaguing his mind, but why it was plaguing his mind completely frustrated — if not puzzled — him.
He looked at the girl again. Most of her face was covered with her bright red mane. So that's who he saw, Draco thought. No wonder he thought it was Blaise. But Blaise's hair was pure red. This Weasley girl's hair, however, seemed to be a flurry of reds, yellows, and browns. In fact, with the right lighting, it'd look gold. He couldn't really see her face much, though he had a very clear view of her body. She was around 17, Draco knew for she was a year younger than him in school. He could tell — even through the layers of clothing she wore — that she had the curves of a 20 year old. Her legs weren't so bad either. He noted the colors of her garbs — green and black — and chuckled at the irony. A Gryffindor — a Weasley — donning Slytherin colors.
His train of throught literally paused. She's a Weasley. What did his father always say about Weasleys?
"Muggle-loving weasels with red hair, freckles, and too many kids than they can afford."
Draco winced as he realized that he had said that as well, some time ago.
The Weasley girl moved. She turned to face him now, though her eyes were still closed. Draco held his breath. After a few lip smacks, she feel right back to sleep.
He watched her again. Her hair had fallen off of her face now, and were gently sprawled across her shoulders. Getting a better look at her, he noticed that she was actually rather pretty. Not anything stunning like Blaise, but there was something abuot the simplicity of her that set her apart. She wore no makeup at all, unlike Blaise or Pansy, who were usually plastered with the stuff. She was all natural. This girl... The way her russet-colored eyelashes blended perfectly with her freckles. Unlike her brothers, her freckles didn't stand out much. They blended well with the creamy color of her skin. Her lips were parted ever-so slightly, and Draco felt the sudden urge to plant his own over her's.
She gasped suddenly, and began to shiver. From the way her brows had wrinkled, Draco could tell her was having some sort of nightmare. Her lips, once so full and pink, were now turning an odd shade of purple. Her skin was virtually paling right before Draco's eyes. Her shivering intensified as he watched on in horror.
On an impulse, he threw his covers over her, though he had no energy to wound them tightly around her.
"No — please," she gasped suddenly, and for a moment, Draco thought she had awoken. But her eyes remained closed. She shut them tightly and began to curl up into a tiny ball in her seat. "No," she whispered again, as tears began to streak down her face. "No — Tom!"
Draco blinked. Tom?
He watched as the girl visibly began to relax — she was getting her color back, and her grip around herself loosened. Whatever she was dreaming, it had obviously stopped. Though she was back to her soundless sleeping, Draco continued to watch her closely.
What, in the name of Grindelwald, just happened?
But his thoughts were stopped abruptly when Madam Pomphrey suddenly came bustling in. She looked extremely miffed.
"Emergency," she tutted, not noticing that Draco was awake as she began to put clear up the area around them. "What could be so urgent that he couldn't come back to — Ah, Mr. Malfoy," she said, finally seeing him. "Awake now, are you?" She immediately went over to him to feel his forehead. Her hand was freezing against his skin.
"Still not well," she said, in a way that suggested she expected as much. "Well I'm afraid our Potions Master has left the area, so I've no way to cure whatever you took," she said to him, obviously bothered by it. "What did you take?"
Draco stared at her. Pectoralis Daemon. That was it. Just say it, Pectoralis Daemon.
"I don't remember," he finally blurted out, shocked by his own words.
Madam Pomphrey sighed. "Then I'm afraid you're to stay here til Professor Snape gets back." She turned around and nearly yelped when she saw the Weasley girl on the seat beside him.
"Goodness, has she been here all night?" she said, hands flying up to her hips.
"She was having a nightmare," Draco heard himself say. "Looked like she was having some sort of seizure."
"Really," said Pomphrey, though it didn't look like she really heard him. She bent down to poke the girl awake. "Ginny?" Ginny! So that's her name! "Dear, it's Monday — you'll be late for your classes."
Ginny tossed to the side, waving a hand in the air to shoo Pomphrey away. At this, Pomphrey huffed.
"Miss Weasley!" she shouted, making the girl fall out of her seat. She blinked dazedly at Pomphrey, who had folded her arms across her chest. "It's Monday, child, you have classes to attend to."
Ginny blinked. Then, as if finally realizing where she was and where she should be, she jumped up from the ground. "Oh!" she said, going slightly pink around the ears, and made a beeline for the exit doors.
"What was she doing here?" Draco asked when he heard her footsteps die away.
"You're guess is as good as mine," Pomphrey told him, and began to add more blankets to his bed.
Draco sat in bed, not really noticing that Madam Pomphrey was still muttering on about Snape leaving so suddenly as she stomped off into her office. He remembered getting to Hogsmeade, seeing Ginny, then passing out. That was it. Did she bring him here? He remembered feeling someone carry him. He doubted whether Ginny would've been able to lift him. Perhaps someone who was with her. But who was she usually with?
His eyes widened.
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
He let out a groan and fell back into his pillows. He couldn't bare to live with that fact that he was still alive and well in the Infirmary because of Harry Potter.
* * *
Ginny ran as fast as her legs could go, turning sharply at corners, and paying no attention to what ghost she ran through. She skidded to a halt as she reached her last corridor, paused to straighten out her robes, and timidly walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
"Why, Miss Weasley — decided to join us, have you?"
"Sorry, Professor Lupin," Ginny said sheepishly as she slipped into her seat beside Minora. "I got — er — caught up in some... stuff."
She looked apologetically at the Professor, who looked back at her with tired eyes.
"I'm afraid that's 5 points from Gryffindor," Lupin told her, in the gentlest of voices. Ginny nodded slowly, and he smiled.
"To recap what I've just said, the defeat of the Dark Lord has greatly influenced the entire wizarding world," he said, leaning back against his desk. "Both in good ways, and bad." He paused to smile at Ginny, who smiled back. "The Dark Lord took with him his Dementors, leaving Azkaban incredibly vulnerable. Although, it did encourage an extreme do-over for our justice system — not to mention the increasing demand for Aurors."
Ginny placed her elbows unto her desk, and settled her chin in her palms. She was hardly listening to Lupin's lesson, as her mind was lost in thought. She didnt' realize she had fallen asleep clear to the next day. She rubbed her eyes, trying to remember what had just happened. She remembered having a dream — but what of, she had no idea.
"Sir?" said Minora suddenly, knocking Ginny out of her thoughts. Lupin turned his attention to Minora, eyebrows slightly raised. "Sir, I heard that the Dark Lord cast some sort of curse before he died. Is that true?" Ginny let out the smallest of grins. Minora was always so fascinated with the Dark Lord's defeat, her having just arrived to the country after it all.
"Ah — yes," said Lupin, smiling slightly. "Well, I am not quite sure whether it is true or not — but I have heard that very rumor." He nestled himself on his desk, swinging his legs as he looked up, deep in thought. "It's been said that he performed some sort of ritual, to ensure his return. But the very idea is preposterous," he added, after seeing the looks on some of his students. "No such magic exists. Once you're dead, you're dead. Not even the oldest of magic can change that."
"But sir — " started Lori, a seventh year Hufflepuff. "What if he does come back?"
"How could he?" said Lupin, starting to look slightly annoyed. "Like I said, dead is dead. And numerous wizards have made sure of his death. Now, enough of this. We're here to learn about what happened after his death — not before it."
"But — "
"Now if you'd all please take out some parchment," began Lupin, giving them all what he thought was a stern look, "we can begin our notes." The class let out a ripple of groans as Lupin turned his back to hide a smile.
* * *
Draco pulled a face as the mediwitch presented him with his dinner.
"You can't be serious," said Draco, looking at the tray with a look of utter distaste.
"What?" asked Pomphrey, looking down at the plate as well. "It's food."
"That," said Draco, pointing at a large brown lump, "is not food."
The nurse gave Draco a cold glare. "Well it's all you have, so use your imagination." She turned her heel and stalked away angrily. Draco watched after her with a small smile. The old witch was getting more and more impatient with each year.
He turned back to the so-called food and nearly gagged. He waited til he heard the loud shut of the nurse's office door before he climbed off of bed. The marble floor was cold against his feet, and he looked around for his shoes. He finally noticed that they had changed his clothes to the usual white-and-blue-striped pajamas Hogswarts used. He made another face, upon looking at his reflection from the window. White and blue did nothing for him. While mostly every color went great with him, the absolute best were black, silver, and gray. Not only did they greatly compliment his eyes, hair, and complexion, but he rather liked the whole "mystery man" business that came with it.
Finding no hint of where his shoes would be, he settled for a pair of fuzzy pink bunny slippers that he knew weren't offered in the Hospital Wing when he was in school. He was in luck when he found a long black cloak that he suspected was owned by Ginny, seeing as it was very feminine, and on the floor beside the chair she had slept in.
No matter, he thought, and threw the cloak over him. It hardly reached his ankles. He tiptoed out the Infirmary, glancing around every corner to make sure that he wouldn't run into anyone when he finally made it to a narrow, empty corridor. He stared up at the large painting, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he had remembered his numerous nighttime strolls down there. With a feeling of odd content, he held out his hand, and tickled the green pear.
* * *
Ginny stared up at the ceiling from her four-poster bed. It was way past midnight and she still hadn't been able to sleep — or shut her eyes for that matter. She had an extreme feeling of foreboding, that if she shut her eyes, something bad would happen. She looked around helplessly, wanting nothing more than to drift off into sleep. She half-expected that if she did, she'd have that dream again. She secretly wanted to — the mystery of it was practically tearing her apart inside. Ginny was always a curious girl, having grown up with six older brothers. Too much for her own good, they'd tell her, and she smiled at the memory.
She heard a small rumble from her stomach, and sighed. She regretted not eating much during dinner. Minora was practically having to force-feed her supper. But Ginny wasn't hungry — not then anyway. She sat up in her bed, looking around at the other three girls in the dorm to make sure they were fast asleep. Slowly and as quietly as she could, she creeped out of the dorm and out into the halls.
After months and months of pestering the twins for information, they finally caved and told her the secret of the kitchens. She'd caught Harry, Ron, and Hermione going in a few times, though they never ever saw her. In was in that time when she found out about Harry's Invisibility Cloak. She nearly had a run-in with them until they pulled the Cloak off. She was able to hide behind a corner while they entered the kitchens, not suspecting anyone to see them. Ginny never needed an Invisibility Cloak. Having six older brothers taught her a thing or two about sneaking around. She was rather proud of herself, actually.
The pear gave a hearty giggle as it transformed into a large green handle. Ginny stepped inside, and was immediately bombarded with house-elves, all extremely pleased for her visit. They presented her with lots of leftovers as some tugged at her robes for her to sit down by the fire.
"Miss Weezy is back!" they squeaked. "Come stay with sir, miss!"
"Pardon?" asked Ginny, chewing absentmindedly on a loaf of bread they handed her.
"Sir looks lonely, miss!" one house-elf squeaked, going slightly red around the ears.
"Is someone else here?" Ginny asked them, and was answered not by a squeak, but a low, velvety voice that came from somewhere near the fire.
"They're rather hyper around this time, aren't they?"
Ginny looked up to see Draco Malfoy, sitting cross-legged on a small blanket in front of the fire. He was surrounded by various plates of food, looking like he was having a solitary picnic.
"I suspect that's what tea does to them," Draco continued, jerking his head towards a group of house-elves laughing heartily as they toasted each other with tiny jugs full of tea.
"What're you doing here?" Ginny asked, looking at his fuzzy slippers curiously.
"Nice to see you too," said Draco, smiling faintly. He turned his attention back to his meal, which Ginny noted looked rather tasty.
"That's my cloak," Ginny said, suddenly realizing she must've left it at the Infirmary.
"Yes, well, you left it," he told her, concluding her suspicions. He put down the food in his hand to take the cloak off and hand it to her. "Quite comfy — Gladrags?"
Ginny nodded numbly as she took the cloak from Draco, who sat back down and continued on with his meal. This is just too weird, Ginny thought to herself. Here was Draco Malfoy, the spawn of her family's worst enemy, Lucius Malfoy, eating dinner. In fuzzy pink slippers.
"Yes?" Draco asked, noticing her stare.
Ginny mentally shook herself. Stop staring at him. But she couldn't help it. Her eyes strayed back over to the man, who was now back to his meal. His appearance threatened to make Ginny burst out laughing. It was odd — so many years had she been used to seeing him wearing the best of the best. Always in black or gray, she remembered. Yet here he was now, wearing a white-and-blue-striped cotton-polyester pajamas, and pink bunny slippers. And what surprised her the most, was that he didn't even seem bothered by it. He looked rather content in them. Younger, too. And common.
She tilted her head to the side, wondering vaguely if this was the same Draco Malfoy she had known in school. Surely not, she thought, and watched as he finished off a bowl of black-and-white pudding.
His gray eyes lifted up from his bowl to Ginny, who suddenly realized that she had been staring at him for the longest time and snapped her head around. He gave her an amused look, and leaned back against the side of the fireplace.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked her, knowing that it was way past her bedtime.
"Shouldn't you?" she quipped, still looking away. Draco smiled.
"Then I guess we both shouldn't be down here," he said, as the houselves began to present him with desert.
"I guess so," she said, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.
"Miss! Miss!" squeaked the blushing house-elf. "Miss should sit down with sir! Sit! Is much comfier, miss!"
Ginny looked down at the house-elf, then up at Draco, who was looking at the ceiling with a faint smile on his lips. Ginny allowed herself to be dragged over by the house-elf, and sat opposite Draco, feeling very very awkward. The house-elves then began to pile more food around them, a few females giggling at the two.
"Aren't you hungry?" came Draco's voice, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone.
"No," Ginny lied. For some reason, she didn't want to eat in front of Draco.
"Isn't that why you came down here?" asked Draco, watching her closely.
"Yes — no," Ginny said, burning a hole through the ground with her eyes. She felt her cheeks burn, and wondered why the hell she was blushing.
"Mm," said Draco, and began to wiggle his feet around, making the bunny slippers look as if they were conversing with one another.
"How are you?" Ginny found herself asking, chancing a look at the man beside her. They were awfully close.
"Okay, I guess," he answered, still watching the show he was putting on with the bunnies. "Head hurts like hell, but at least I'm not passing out anymore."
"Oh," was all Ginny could say, and looked away. "What did you take, anyway?" she said suddenly, not even realizing she had been wondering that.
Draco stopped moving around his feet, and paused to choose his words carefully. Ginny watched him closely.
"Snape gave me a potion," he said, a far-off look in his eyes. "To subdue me for a while." He chuckled lightly. "I don't think I was supposed to take the whole thing, though."
"Subdue you? For what?" asked Ginny, before she could stop herself. Damn her curiosity.
"Something," he said simply. Then, feeling that she wouldn't settle for just that, added, "Visiting the Manor isn't exactly the most calming thing."
"Oh," Ginny said again, feeling more and more awkward as a silence settled in. Draco was back to wiggling around his feet, and Ginny now found her cloak very interesting.
"It was you that found me, right?" Draco said suddenly, though he didn't take his eyes off of his feet.
"Er — yeah," Ginny answered. "Actually, me and my brothers did. Well — me, my brothers, and Harry." She watched to see how he'd react upon hearing Harry's name. He seemed to have gone paler.
He cleared his throat. "Who brought me here?"
"We all did," Ginny said, and tried to stifle a giggle. "George carried you."
Draco virtually relaxed upon hearing that. "Oh," he just said, and continued on with his bunny show. Various house-elves looked at the two anxiously, some wringing their hands in anticipation. Ginny stared back with anger written all over her face. Just what were they expecting, anyway?
"Is miss not happy?" a house-elf Ginny knew as Dobby said. He took a step towards her with big sad brown eyes.
"Miss feels uncomfortable," Draco answered for Ginny, and almost immediately a number of elves presented her with pillows and comforters. Draco chuckled as Ginny reluctantly accepted.
"Why did you tell them that?" frowned Ginny, as the elves went out of their way to give her as many pillows they can acquire.
"What? It's true," answered Draco. He settled back against the fireplace, away from Ginny's view.
Ginny's frown deepened. She wanted to tell him the truth — that she actually felt quite comfortable sitting there next to him, even considering the fact that their shoulders were about five inches apart. But where would that get her? She stifled a yawn, and felt a shiver travel up her spine as Draco placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You should go back to bed," he whispered, making the blood flow to her cheeks.
"I'm not sleepy," she said, though her lie was ruined as it was soon followed by a yawn. She heard Draco's soft chuckle and sighed. "I don't want to sleep," she muttered.
"What's the matter?" he asked, taking his hand away from her shoulder. Ginny felt an odd urge to have him place it back. "Bad dreams?" His tone wasn't mocking, but Ginny still felt the urge to defend herself.
"What keeps me up is none of your business," she snapped.
"Calm down," he said, amidst his chuckles. "It's far too late — or early, however you want to look at it — to butt heads." Suddenly his pale face came into her view again, as he pushed himself off of the wall. "I'd like to think that one day a Weasley and a Malfoy can be civil toward one another."
"Way to dream big," Ginny muttered, and was surprised to see Draco smile — an actual, sincere smile.
"Yeah, well, the truce has got to start somewhere," he said, and held out a hand to her. Ginny arched a brow at him. "I'd always wanted to piss my father off," he told her, smile still lingering around his face. "What better to do that than end this bitter rivalry that he started?"
Ginny stared at him suspiciously. Was he for real? She was sure her brothers wouldn't even think twice about this offer, but she liked to pride herself on being more sensible than them.
With a sly smile, she took his hand and shook it slightly.
"Alright," she said, "but it's on you to convince the rest of the family that."
Draco laughed, and before she knew it, he had raised her hand to brush his lips over it.
"You're something special, you know that?" he said, plastering his charming smile and pushed himself off the ground. He quickly brushed away any crumbs he had dropped on himself and walked towards the door. "Good night, Ginny," he said, still smiling, and walked out.
Ginny continued to at the door even after he had left. Was she just flirting with Draco Malfoy? She felt her shoulders shake with silent laughter. Boy, would Ron have a fit about that!
Chapter Seven; Harry's a git, Ginny sobs, Draco comforts (or comes close to doing so), Dumbledore snacks, and Snape returns!
"You're blood."
Draco's eyes fluttered open. That same, blasted dream again. He'd secretly been hoping that the dreams would escalate; the whole blood thing was really starting to freak him out. But no, it remained the same. Absolutely nothing had changed — though now he had the strangest urge to buy leather pants.
Slowly, he sat up in his bed. He had been in the Hospital Wing enough times from Quidditch injuries to know that he was, in fact, back. Why he was back, though, he had no idea. His headache was better now — Pomphrey must've done something to him. But the throbbing still lingered, and with every turn of his head, he felt that oh-so familiar shock race through his temple.
He sighed, his mind wandering back to the dreams.
Stop it.
He was constantly haunted by those visions — images that made so much sense, while making no sense at all. Why did they continue to badger him? What did they mean, if they meant anything at all?
And why the bloody hell was the youngest Weasley asleep on the chair next to him?
He stared wide-eyed at the fragile figure that had nestled herself into what looked like a rather uncomfortable position in the equally uncomfortable-looking chair.
He pondered whether to poke her awake or not. Judging from the sunlight dipping inside the room, he had slept on to the next day. And by the looks of the Weasley girl's state of clothing, she had been there as long as he had. Doing what, he wondered. Surely not waiting for him. He hardly remembered her name. What was it? Grace... Patrica... Tabitha?
No, that wasn't right.
Draco's brows blended together while he tried his hardest to remember the girl's name. Ginger... Penny... Ginny! Or was it Jenny? Draco let out a growl of frustration. Not only was knowing the girl's name now plaguing his mind, but why it was plaguing his mind completely frustrated — if not puzzled — him.
He looked at the girl again. Most of her face was covered with her bright red mane. So that's who he saw, Draco thought. No wonder he thought it was Blaise. But Blaise's hair was pure red. This Weasley girl's hair, however, seemed to be a flurry of reds, yellows, and browns. In fact, with the right lighting, it'd look gold. He couldn't really see her face much, though he had a very clear view of her body. She was around 17, Draco knew for she was a year younger than him in school. He could tell — even through the layers of clothing she wore — that she had the curves of a 20 year old. Her legs weren't so bad either. He noted the colors of her garbs — green and black — and chuckled at the irony. A Gryffindor — a Weasley — donning Slytherin colors.
His train of throught literally paused. She's a Weasley. What did his father always say about Weasleys?
"Muggle-loving weasels with red hair, freckles, and too many kids than they can afford."
Draco winced as he realized that he had said that as well, some time ago.
The Weasley girl moved. She turned to face him now, though her eyes were still closed. Draco held his breath. After a few lip smacks, she feel right back to sleep.
He watched her again. Her hair had fallen off of her face now, and were gently sprawled across her shoulders. Getting a better look at her, he noticed that she was actually rather pretty. Not anything stunning like Blaise, but there was something abuot the simplicity of her that set her apart. She wore no makeup at all, unlike Blaise or Pansy, who were usually plastered with the stuff. She was all natural. This girl... The way her russet-colored eyelashes blended perfectly with her freckles. Unlike her brothers, her freckles didn't stand out much. They blended well with the creamy color of her skin. Her lips were parted ever-so slightly, and Draco felt the sudden urge to plant his own over her's.
She gasped suddenly, and began to shiver. From the way her brows had wrinkled, Draco could tell her was having some sort of nightmare. Her lips, once so full and pink, were now turning an odd shade of purple. Her skin was virtually paling right before Draco's eyes. Her shivering intensified as he watched on in horror.
On an impulse, he threw his covers over her, though he had no energy to wound them tightly around her.
"No — please," she gasped suddenly, and for a moment, Draco thought she had awoken. But her eyes remained closed. She shut them tightly and began to curl up into a tiny ball in her seat. "No," she whispered again, as tears began to streak down her face. "No — Tom!"
Draco blinked. Tom?
He watched as the girl visibly began to relax — she was getting her color back, and her grip around herself loosened. Whatever she was dreaming, it had obviously stopped. Though she was back to her soundless sleeping, Draco continued to watch her closely.
What, in the name of Grindelwald, just happened?
But his thoughts were stopped abruptly when Madam Pomphrey suddenly came bustling in. She looked extremely miffed.
"Emergency," she tutted, not noticing that Draco was awake as she began to put clear up the area around them. "What could be so urgent that he couldn't come back to — Ah, Mr. Malfoy," she said, finally seeing him. "Awake now, are you?" She immediately went over to him to feel his forehead. Her hand was freezing against his skin.
"Still not well," she said, in a way that suggested she expected as much. "Well I'm afraid our Potions Master has left the area, so I've no way to cure whatever you took," she said to him, obviously bothered by it. "What did you take?"
Draco stared at her. Pectoralis Daemon. That was it. Just say it, Pectoralis Daemon.
"I don't remember," he finally blurted out, shocked by his own words.
Madam Pomphrey sighed. "Then I'm afraid you're to stay here til Professor Snape gets back." She turned around and nearly yelped when she saw the Weasley girl on the seat beside him.
"Goodness, has she been here all night?" she said, hands flying up to her hips.
"She was having a nightmare," Draco heard himself say. "Looked like she was having some sort of seizure."
"Really," said Pomphrey, though it didn't look like she really heard him. She bent down to poke the girl awake. "Ginny?" Ginny! So that's her name! "Dear, it's Monday — you'll be late for your classes."
Ginny tossed to the side, waving a hand in the air to shoo Pomphrey away. At this, Pomphrey huffed.
"Miss Weasley!" she shouted, making the girl fall out of her seat. She blinked dazedly at Pomphrey, who had folded her arms across her chest. "It's Monday, child, you have classes to attend to."
Ginny blinked. Then, as if finally realizing where she was and where she should be, she jumped up from the ground. "Oh!" she said, going slightly pink around the ears, and made a beeline for the exit doors.
"What was she doing here?" Draco asked when he heard her footsteps die away.
"You're guess is as good as mine," Pomphrey told him, and began to add more blankets to his bed.
Draco sat in bed, not really noticing that Madam Pomphrey was still muttering on about Snape leaving so suddenly as she stomped off into her office. He remembered getting to Hogsmeade, seeing Ginny, then passing out. That was it. Did she bring him here? He remembered feeling someone carry him. He doubted whether Ginny would've been able to lift him. Perhaps someone who was with her. But who was she usually with?
His eyes widened.
No. Not him. Anyone but him.
He let out a groan and fell back into his pillows. He couldn't bare to live with that fact that he was still alive and well in the Infirmary because of Harry Potter.
Ginny ran as fast as her legs could go, turning sharply at corners, and paying no attention to what ghost she ran through. She skidded to a halt as she reached her last corridor, paused to straighten out her robes, and timidly walked into the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.
"Why, Miss Weasley — decided to join us, have you?"
"Sorry, Professor Lupin," Ginny said sheepishly as she slipped into her seat beside Minora. "I got — er — caught up in some... stuff."
She looked apologetically at the Professor, who looked back at her with tired eyes.
"I'm afraid that's 5 points from Gryffindor," Lupin told her, in the gentlest of voices. Ginny nodded slowly, and he smiled.
"To recap what I've just said, the defeat of the Dark Lord has greatly influenced the entire wizarding world," he said, leaning back against his desk. "Both in good ways, and bad." He paused to smile at Ginny, who smiled back. "The Dark Lord took with him his Dementors, leaving Azkaban incredibly vulnerable. Although, it did encourage an extreme do-over for our justice system — not to mention the increasing demand for Aurors."
Ginny placed her elbows unto her desk, and settled her chin in her palms. She was hardly listening to Lupin's lesson, as her mind was lost in thought. She didnt' realize she had fallen asleep clear to the next day. She rubbed her eyes, trying to remember what had just happened. She remembered having a dream — but what of, she had no idea.
"Sir?" said Minora suddenly, knocking Ginny out of her thoughts. Lupin turned his attention to Minora, eyebrows slightly raised. "Sir, I heard that the Dark Lord cast some sort of curse before he died. Is that true?" Ginny let out the smallest of grins. Minora was always so fascinated with the Dark Lord's defeat, her having just arrived to the country after it all.
"Ah — yes," said Lupin, smiling slightly. "Well, I am not quite sure whether it is true or not — but I have heard that very rumor." He nestled himself on his desk, swinging his legs as he looked up, deep in thought. "It's been said that he performed some sort of ritual, to ensure his return. But the very idea is preposterous," he added, after seeing the looks on some of his students. "No such magic exists. Once you're dead, you're dead. Not even the oldest of magic can change that."
"But sir — " started Lori, a seventh year Hufflepuff. "What if he does come back?"
"How could he?" said Lupin, starting to look slightly annoyed. "Like I said, dead is dead. And numerous wizards have made sure of his death. Now, enough of this. We're here to learn about what happened after his death — not before it."
"But — "
"Now if you'd all please take out some parchment," began Lupin, giving them all what he thought was a stern look, "we can begin our notes." The class let out a ripple of groans as Lupin turned his back to hide a smile.
Draco pulled a face as the mediwitch presented him with his dinner.
"You can't be serious," said Draco, looking at the tray with a look of utter distaste.
"What?" asked Pomphrey, looking down at the plate as well. "It's food."
"That," said Draco, pointing at a large brown lump, "is not food."
The nurse gave Draco a cold glare. "Well it's all you have, so use your imagination." She turned her heel and stalked away angrily. Draco watched after her with a small smile. The old witch was getting more and more impatient with each year.
He turned back to the so-called food and nearly gagged. He waited til he heard the loud shut of the nurse's office door before he climbed off of bed. The marble floor was cold against his feet, and he looked around for his shoes. He finally noticed that they had changed his clothes to the usual white-and-blue-striped pajamas Hogswarts used. He made another face, upon looking at his reflection from the window. White and blue did nothing for him. While mostly every color went great with him, the absolute best were black, silver, and gray. Not only did they greatly compliment his eyes, hair, and complexion, but he rather liked the whole "mystery man" business that came with it.
Finding no hint of where his shoes would be, he settled for a pair of fuzzy pink bunny slippers that he knew weren't offered in the Hospital Wing when he was in school. He was in luck when he found a long black cloak that he suspected was owned by Ginny, seeing as it was very feminine, and on the floor beside the chair she had slept in.
No matter, he thought, and threw the cloak over him. It hardly reached his ankles. He tiptoed out the Infirmary, glancing around every corner to make sure that he wouldn't run into anyone when he finally made it to a narrow, empty corridor. He stared up at the large painting, a ghost of a smile on his lips as he had remembered his numerous nighttime strolls down there. With a feeling of odd content, he held out his hand, and tickled the green pear.
Ginny stared up at the ceiling from her four-poster bed. It was way past midnight and she still hadn't been able to sleep — or shut her eyes for that matter. She had an extreme feeling of foreboding, that if she shut her eyes, something bad would happen. She looked around helplessly, wanting nothing more than to drift off into sleep. She half-expected that if she did, she'd have that dream again. She secretly wanted to — the mystery of it was practically tearing her apart inside. Ginny was always a curious girl, having grown up with six older brothers. Too much for her own good, they'd tell her, and she smiled at the memory.
She heard a small rumble from her stomach, and sighed. She regretted not eating much during dinner. Minora was practically having to force-feed her supper. But Ginny wasn't hungry — not then anyway. She sat up in her bed, looking around at the other three girls in the dorm to make sure they were fast asleep. Slowly and as quietly as she could, she creeped out of the dorm and out into the halls.
After months and months of pestering the twins for information, they finally caved and told her the secret of the kitchens. She'd caught Harry, Ron, and Hermione going in a few times, though they never ever saw her. In was in that time when she found out about Harry's Invisibility Cloak. She nearly had a run-in with them until they pulled the Cloak off. She was able to hide behind a corner while they entered the kitchens, not suspecting anyone to see them. Ginny never needed an Invisibility Cloak. Having six older brothers taught her a thing or two about sneaking around. She was rather proud of herself, actually.
The pear gave a hearty giggle as it transformed into a large green handle. Ginny stepped inside, and was immediately bombarded with house-elves, all extremely pleased for her visit. They presented her with lots of leftovers as some tugged at her robes for her to sit down by the fire.
"Miss Weezy is back!" they squeaked. "Come stay with sir, miss!"
"Pardon?" asked Ginny, chewing absentmindedly on a loaf of bread they handed her.
"Sir looks lonely, miss!" one house-elf squeaked, going slightly red around the ears.
"Is someone else here?" Ginny asked them, and was answered not by a squeak, but a low, velvety voice that came from somewhere near the fire.
"They're rather hyper around this time, aren't they?"
Ginny looked up to see Draco Malfoy, sitting cross-legged on a small blanket in front of the fire. He was surrounded by various plates of food, looking like he was having a solitary picnic.
"I suspect that's what tea does to them," Draco continued, jerking his head towards a group of house-elves laughing heartily as they toasted each other with tiny jugs full of tea.
"What're you doing here?" Ginny asked, looking at his fuzzy slippers curiously.
"Nice to see you too," said Draco, smiling faintly. He turned his attention back to his meal, which Ginny noted looked rather tasty.
"That's my cloak," Ginny said, suddenly realizing she must've left it at the Infirmary.
"Yes, well, you left it," he told her, concluding her suspicions. He put down the food in his hand to take the cloak off and hand it to her. "Quite comfy — Gladrags?"
Ginny nodded numbly as she took the cloak from Draco, who sat back down and continued on with his meal. This is just too weird, Ginny thought to herself. Here was Draco Malfoy, the spawn of her family's worst enemy, Lucius Malfoy, eating dinner. In fuzzy pink slippers.
"Yes?" Draco asked, noticing her stare.
Ginny mentally shook herself. Stop staring at him. But she couldn't help it. Her eyes strayed back over to the man, who was now back to his meal. His appearance threatened to make Ginny burst out laughing. It was odd — so many years had she been used to seeing him wearing the best of the best. Always in black or gray, she remembered. Yet here he was now, wearing a white-and-blue-striped cotton-polyester pajamas, and pink bunny slippers. And what surprised her the most, was that he didn't even seem bothered by it. He looked rather content in them. Younger, too. And common.
She tilted her head to the side, wondering vaguely if this was the same Draco Malfoy she had known in school. Surely not, she thought, and watched as he finished off a bowl of black-and-white pudding.
His gray eyes lifted up from his bowl to Ginny, who suddenly realized that she had been staring at him for the longest time and snapped her head around. He gave her an amused look, and leaned back against the side of the fireplace.
"Shouldn't you be in bed?" he asked her, knowing that it was way past her bedtime.
"Shouldn't you?" she quipped, still looking away. Draco smiled.
"Then I guess we both shouldn't be down here," he said, as the houselves began to present him with desert.
"I guess so," she said, suddenly finding the ground very interesting.
"Miss! Miss!" squeaked the blushing house-elf. "Miss should sit down with sir! Sit! Is much comfier, miss!"
Ginny looked down at the house-elf, then up at Draco, who was looking at the ceiling with a faint smile on his lips. Ginny allowed herself to be dragged over by the house-elf, and sat opposite Draco, feeling very very awkward. The house-elves then began to pile more food around them, a few females giggling at the two.
"Aren't you hungry?" came Draco's voice, the slightest hint of amusement in his tone.
"No," Ginny lied. For some reason, she didn't want to eat in front of Draco.
"Isn't that why you came down here?" asked Draco, watching her closely.
"Yes — no," Ginny said, burning a hole through the ground with her eyes. She felt her cheeks burn, and wondered why the hell she was blushing.
"Mm," said Draco, and began to wiggle his feet around, making the bunny slippers look as if they were conversing with one another.
"How are you?" Ginny found herself asking, chancing a look at the man beside her. They were awfully close.
"Okay, I guess," he answered, still watching the show he was putting on with the bunnies. "Head hurts like hell, but at least I'm not passing out anymore."
"Oh," was all Ginny could say, and looked away. "What did you take, anyway?" she said suddenly, not even realizing she had been wondering that.
Draco stopped moving around his feet, and paused to choose his words carefully. Ginny watched him closely.
"Snape gave me a potion," he said, a far-off look in his eyes. "To subdue me for a while." He chuckled lightly. "I don't think I was supposed to take the whole thing, though."
"Subdue you? For what?" asked Ginny, before she could stop herself. Damn her curiosity.
"Something," he said simply. Then, feeling that she wouldn't settle for just that, added, "Visiting the Manor isn't exactly the most calming thing."
"Oh," Ginny said again, feeling more and more awkward as a silence settled in. Draco was back to wiggling around his feet, and Ginny now found her cloak very interesting.
"It was you that found me, right?" Draco said suddenly, though he didn't take his eyes off of his feet.
"Er — yeah," Ginny answered. "Actually, me and my brothers did. Well — me, my brothers, and Harry." She watched to see how he'd react upon hearing Harry's name. He seemed to have gone paler.
He cleared his throat. "Who brought me here?"
"We all did," Ginny said, and tried to stifle a giggle. "George carried you."
Draco virtually relaxed upon hearing that. "Oh," he just said, and continued on with his bunny show. Various house-elves looked at the two anxiously, some wringing their hands in anticipation. Ginny stared back with anger written all over her face. Just what were they expecting, anyway?
"Is miss not happy?" a house-elf Ginny knew as Dobby said. He took a step towards her with big sad brown eyes.
"Miss feels uncomfortable," Draco answered for Ginny, and almost immediately a number of elves presented her with pillows and comforters. Draco chuckled as Ginny reluctantly accepted.
"Why did you tell them that?" frowned Ginny, as the elves went out of their way to give her as many pillows they can acquire.
"What? It's true," answered Draco. He settled back against the fireplace, away from Ginny's view.
Ginny's frown deepened. She wanted to tell him the truth — that she actually felt quite comfortable sitting there next to him, even considering the fact that their shoulders were about five inches apart. But where would that get her? She stifled a yawn, and felt a shiver travel up her spine as Draco placed a hand on her shoulder.
"You should go back to bed," he whispered, making the blood flow to her cheeks.
"I'm not sleepy," she said, though her lie was ruined as it was soon followed by a yawn. She heard Draco's soft chuckle and sighed. "I don't want to sleep," she muttered.
"What's the matter?" he asked, taking his hand away from her shoulder. Ginny felt an odd urge to have him place it back. "Bad dreams?" His tone wasn't mocking, but Ginny still felt the urge to defend herself.
"What keeps me up is none of your business," she snapped.
"Calm down," he said, amidst his chuckles. "It's far too late — or early, however you want to look at it — to butt heads." Suddenly his pale face came into her view again, as he pushed himself off of the wall. "I'd like to think that one day a Weasley and a Malfoy can be civil toward one another."
"Way to dream big," Ginny muttered, and was surprised to see Draco smile — an actual, sincere smile.
"Yeah, well, the truce has got to start somewhere," he said, and held out a hand to her. Ginny arched a brow at him. "I'd always wanted to piss my father off," he told her, smile still lingering around his face. "What better to do that than end this bitter rivalry that he started?"
Ginny stared at him suspiciously. Was he for real? She was sure her brothers wouldn't even think twice about this offer, but she liked to pride herself on being more sensible than them.
With a sly smile, she took his hand and shook it slightly.
"Alright," she said, "but it's on you to convince the rest of the family that."
Draco laughed, and before she knew it, he had raised her hand to brush his lips over it.
"You're something special, you know that?" he said, plastering his charming smile and pushed himself off the ground. He quickly brushed away any crumbs he had dropped on himself and walked towards the door. "Good night, Ginny," he said, still smiling, and walked out.
Ginny continued to at the door even after he had left. Was she just flirting with Draco Malfoy? She felt her shoulders shake with silent laughter. Boy, would Ron have a fit about that!
Chapter Seven; Harry's a git, Ginny sobs, Draco comforts (or comes close to doing so), Dumbledore snacks, and Snape returns!