*My Notes:* Hiya! My school just began a little less than a week ago; I won't be updating half as much. My previous chapters were almost done all in one weekend and almost one sitting because, hey, I had that time in the summer! But now I'll probably be to old traditional chapter-by-chapter. I've got most of the plot all worked out so hopefully you'll have a fun reading experience. ^_^
*Chapter Six:* /Visit with the Devil/
Ginny was pleased to see that chores such as slipping on a skirt or buttering a piece of toast were now so fluent, and fun, and it made her feel sexy – all of it. She was happy, humming, carefree. With her new outlook on life, other people seemed to catch on also. She heard catcalls in the hallways, sensed eyes on her from behind as she skipped from class to class, and even the teachers' time seemed brightened by her spunk.
But then came lunch.
Just out of a particularly challenging but refreshing Defense Against Dark Arts lessons, Ginny hurried to her House Table for some nice applesauce or something to keep her on her feet. She was slowly loosing her original exuberance, although she did not notice it at the time; it is hard, really, to discern a natural high from milking off the last bit of that happy ecstasy.
As soon as her fork was jammed into a particularly juicy piece of roasted chicken breast, she felt cold air on her back…breath. Reflexively, she turned about sharply and there, his grey eyes flashing, was Draco Malfoy.
"What do you want," Ginny said flatly, her eyes narrowing. Nothing good could be expected after a visit from Malfoy and she turned in her seat, facing him.
Draco grinned nastily at the Weasley girl's unease: it was easily visible to him. "Don't be so scared, little girl… You didn't seem so meek last night!"
Ginny frowned, and he continued.
"Who am I? What do I have on my face? You do realise what are in my pants, don't you?" Malfoy spat unkindly. "I'm Draco Malfoy, a pureblood; I have a tongue; I am long and hard. But I see you have never approached me."
"You're horny, I get it – but I don't care. So just go away," Ginny said.
Malfoy roared with laughter: mock laughter, cold and cruel and falling onto Ginny's frame with incredible pain. She understood what he was playing at.
"Me, horny?! Hardly, Ginger; although I do admit even those unimportant rocks can sometimes provoke me. No," he whispered, "you could never do that for me."
"And visa versa," Ginny replied.
"Right!" Draco grinned insanely; "I'd need boobs and a Quidditch goal post? You whore." He left the Great Hall then, a flurry of black robes and white hair.
The few Gryffindors sitting near Ginny edged away. The redhead tried to tell herself they were only First Years and it wasn't like…God, it wasn't as if Hermione had heard her discussion with Malfoy. Fuck. How could she live with herself if that were the case? Or worse – Ron….
Ginny fled the table and ran to the portrait hole, sobbing the whole way.
***
Yes, this was the pits. Yes, the world was over. No, she could never go out again…
Ginny was silently contemplating the last forty-five minutes of her life and although she had dried her tears away, she was still mourning the reputation her simple happiness had given her.
'Slut? Lesbian? Prostitute?' Ginny mumbled in her thoughts, thinking of a future name she might be labeled. She had pulled the curtains shut tightly around her bed with a silencing charm so nothing could be heard to the others in the dorm, although the House of Gryffindor was all at its classes. Rocking slowly back and forth on the mattress, she couldn't think of a worse day.
And how coincidental was it, really, that in a mere nine
hours she could go from the happiest person in the world to feeling like she
was scum and wasn't fit to be living this awesome, magical life at Hogwarts.
Why, why did Chantal do that to her? Why, why was Malfoy such a Malfoy?
***
Malfoy's Malfoyness shone through once again that evening. Ginny had still not left the dormitories even as that blindingly brilliant orb of gold slipped behind the rolling hills and craggy mountains, not even when her stomach grumbled, pleading for food. It was malnourished and Ginny knew it; her morale was rock-bottom and her mind was malnourished…and she knew this. She was sick.
Ginny stumbled out of the dorm and across the tight corridor to the girls' bathroom. She staggered in, and turned to one of those white shining porcelain bowls, ready to greet her short-lived lunch. Green flashed at her and she felt her throat contracting and she was sick until her stomach felt necessary. She sadly stood up and washed her pale face, annoyed at herself and annoyed at her emotions. She still wanted Chantal to do those things to her; still would love to replicate the feeling with Hermione… But no! That was wrong! Girls liked boys and boys liked Quidditch. Malfoy left her alone. Hermione was her friend. Ron got catty when she flirted with Dean.
Feet pattering lightly on the wood, Ginny made her way back to her sanctuary, her bed. However she was interrupted by a certain brunette.
"Ginny! Where have you been all day?" Hermione asked, out of breath as if she had just run around the Quidditch Pitch.
"I felt a little sick, that's all." Ginny shrugged, all the while aware of the nasty taste in her mouth. To be sure, she wiped her lips with her sleeve.
"Mmm," Hermione nodded vaguely. "You know, I really missed you at lunch. I was running around like a madwoman trying to send my parents a letter."
The last bit clicked. "You – you weren't at lunch?"
"No… I'm sorry I haven't been able to catch up with you!" Hermione said sadly. Then she flashed a wide grin. "I really, erm, enjoy our friendship, Ginny."
Ginny gawked. She remembered lunch.
Hermione gasped. "I mean, well, I've gotta run. Go – tell Ron that he – needs to…" She blushed several shades redder and turned around.
Ginny let her jaw free-fall. Hermione, blushing, while trying to compliment her….Ginny felt light-headed! She leaned against the wall, then decided to go up to the Owlery herself. There she could get some fresh air and be among the owls; oh, the owls, they really were fantastic. They blinked at her but not in an inquisitive way; their stares seemed to convey their sense of recognition. Yes, it was pathetic that she found comfort in blinking, mute owls.
She tried to keep her scurrying to a slow pace as she shuffled up the Hogwarts staircases, yet the thought of nipping autumn air breezing in through a barred but open and free window, and friendship from the birds was welcoming. She didn't expect a large, tawny owl to be waiting for her with a letter, though.