Author's Notes: This chapter has been edited. If you're reading this for the second time, you may notice some changes. If this is your first time, then I guess you won't. Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters that I use.

Analyze This

Ginny very reluctantly got up from her bed about twenty minutes later.

The small nap she had taken eased her nerves, until she realized that she had to face Draco Malfoy in the hallway, and inevitably the following afternoon. If Ginny had her way, she would lock herself in her room until she graduated – of course making sure that she had a hefty supply of butterbeer and strawberry-flavored sugar quills.

Ginny sighed and immediately squished that thought. The thought of staying in her nice, warm Hogwarts room seemed very wonderful at the moment, but she was not the kind of person to lock herself away from trouble; even if she did have a penchant for encountering it rather often.

Popping the last bit of chocolate that Professor Martin had given to her in her mouth, Ginny rose from the bed and thought about the rest of the day, aside from what had already happened. She did not want to miss Transfiguration and have Ron and her friends thinking that Malfoy had killed her or some such nonsense.

'Although he almost did,' she thought with a grimace.

What made it worse, she realized as she picked up her bag and walked down the stairs, was that she had provoked him. While she could justifiably argue that Draco had pushed her into it, "Two wrongs don't make a right," she could hear Hermione saying in her head. If she told her – and she wasn't planning on doing that. Ever.

Ginny waited for Lark and Colin at Professor McGonagall's door as agreed during the first half of lunch. If she could help it, she wouldn't tell her friends exactly what had transpired. Just the main points, so that they would be on the lookout for the blond assassin. It would be terrible if Malfoy decided to take his anger out on them. She straightened up when she spied them coming.

"How was lunch?" she asked quickly, hoping to prolong their interrogation.

Lark failed to notice the diversion and proceeded to talk about Seamus; then how some third-year boy tripped her and made her fall in front of Seamus; that the Slytherins gave up hissing in favor of death glares; and more about Seamus. Lark had been strung over the Irish seventh-year for two years. It seemed as if – at least to Ginny it did – that he was finally being taken in by her charms.

Through all of this, though, Colin failed to be taken in by the ruse and raised his eyebrow at Ginny. With her own eyes, Ginny communicated back to her observant friend that she would fill him in later; he'd only harass her endlessly if she didn't. Due to his keen talent with photography, Colin seemed to pick up on things that other people did not, or might not get right away.

So after Lark's narration ended Ginny scolded herself internally for not listening when Lark caught her off guard with her next question.

"How was Hell with El Diablo himself?"

Avoiding Lark's eyes she said, "It was, er…productive."

Lark nodded on for Ginny to elaborate, but Ginny only smiled brightly and said, "Let's head in, shall we?" Lark shrugged and followed Ginny.

Ginny had often joked that having Seamus on the brain affected Lark's normally sharp perception.

For once she was glad it did.

"I've got a few letters to owl, so I'll catch you up at dinner, okay?"

Ginny and Colin nodded and waved Lark off. Lark smiled and headed up the hall to the stairs that led to the Owlery. As she and Colin went onward to their common room, Ginny thought about how nice it was that Lark wrote to her parents so often.

Being half-Muggle (Lark's father was a Muggle primary schoolteacher who was always up for learning more about the wizarding world), Ginny knew that Lark sometimes wrote to friends that she had outside of Hogwarts, even though it was very difficult. Ginny tried to imagine what she would compose in a letter to a friend who wasn't magical…what she came up with was awkward sounding.

She also knew that Lark's father wasn't as demanding about writing home as Ginny's mother was, but that he appreciated it very much, especially since it was hard for him to understand the way magical people lived. Hermione's parents seemed to have adjusted through the years, and seeing oddly dressed men and women floating objects around in a place named 'Diagon Alley' had almost become second nature to them.

"What's on your mind?" Colin asked Ginny when they were in front of the Fat Lady.

Ginny shrugged casually. "Not much; just thinking about my parents."

"Round Table," said Colin, giving the portrait the password. She swung open and Colin walked inside to sit on a squishy red couch and signaled for Ginny to do the same.

"And what do these parents of yours think about you exposing your innermost secrets to your enemy?"

Ginny smiled at Colin wryly. "Cut the act, Creevey; I know you just want to find out about the session today. You could care less about my parents."

"I'm hurt by that accusation."

Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I'm still waiting."

Sighing, Ginny glanced at Colin. He seemed to be in a good mood. So she told him the story, not even bothering to delete the parts where she feared for her mortal life and cried like a newborn.

"Are you taking the piss?" Colin asked with a concerned look on his face.

Ginny frowned. "Do you honestly think I would joke about something like that?"

"Sorry," Colin amended. He paused. "I don't think you should do this anymore…"

Ginny groaned and threw herself back on the couch. "I don't need this from you as well! I'm getting it enough from Ron."

"Are you planning on telling him?"

"If you ask me one more moronic question, Colin, I might just begin to reconsider you as one of the top five on my Most Intelligent People I Know list." Ginny thought a moment. "Not that I really know more than ten people anyway…"

Colin gave Ginny a reproving look. "Ginny, I'm serious! I don't like this at all."

"No more than I do."

"Then why don't you care?"

"I do!" Ginny protested. "I just can't let it get the better of me! I did that today, and look where it got me – at the receiving end of Draco Malfoy's wand."

Colin was silent.

"Promise me that you won't say anything to Ron," Ginny said firmly.

Colin gave Ginny a long look. "As much as I wouldn't mind seeing Draco Malfoy's spleen used as Hogwarts wallpaper right now, it would seriously affect the photogenic-ness of the castle." Ginny grinned.

"Have I told you how much I love you, Colin Creevey?" she asked him, grinning.

"Not nearly enough," he replied pushing his hand through his hair. Ginny gave him a big hug. "Enough, enough!" he declared, laughing.

"So how was Quidditch Practice this morning?" he asked, settling down.

Ginny sighed and threw herself on the floor in show of her bliss. Luckily the seat of the couch wasn't that high off of the floor.

"You fell off of your broom?" he asked.

"No," Ginny snapped. "It was lovely."

Colin smiled as Ginny proceeded to tell him of the beautiful November breeze that presided over their practice "like a benevolent, peaceful spirit".

"So you think that you're ready for your first match?" he summed up.

Ginny grinned. "We're going to demolish them."

"Pass the chicken!" Ron said imperiously. Seamus passed the chicken with so many flourishes that Ginny though it would fly out of his hands and onto Hermione's lap.

Ginny only picked at her dinner while everyone else managed large, hearty servings. Mostly, she was thirsty, and was currently nursing her fourth cup of pumpkin juice. The chunk of chocolate that had been bestowed upon her by Professor Martin was still residing somewhere in her stomach along with the nerves that had sprouted up upon seeing Ron enter the Great Hall for dinner. Talking things over with Colin had been wonderfully calming, but now was the real test.

But fifteen minutes had already gone by, and no one had said anything about it. Ginny thought that she might be able to relax a bit.

"So how was the session today?" Hermione asked suddenly, surprising Ginny so much that she choked. The older girl didn't seem to notice though, as she was glaring at Ron who had just elbowed her.

"Sorry, Hermione," he apologized, turning to look at Ginny. "So what about it?" he asked as well.

"It was…"

'Fine...dandy...deadly…?' Ginny thought.

"I finally finished!" a breathless Lark declared, situating herself between Ginny and Lavender Brown who was chattering to someone else.

Ginny silently heaved a sigh of relief at the distraction.

"What took you so long?" she asked the dark-haired girl who was looking around the table.

"Well, when I got up there, the owls were flying all over the place; I couldn't get one to stay still long enough to attach a letter. So I thought of giving them some of the owl treats that Filch keeps in that little bucket so they'd calm down. But it was scattered all over the floor."

Colin gave Lark an amused look. "What did you do, pick it up grain by grain?"

Lark raised her chin. "As a matter of fact, I did." Ginny snorted. "They wouldn't come to me any other way! By the time I finally got one to accept my post, I was filthy, so I went to wash up."

"If only we could all have that kind of excitement," Colin said wistfully.

Lark pointedly ignored him. "Sometimes I really wish that we could use electricity in Hogwarts," she said. "It would be so much easier to just phone Dad now and then."

Ron looked at Lark as if she had just spoken a different language. "Phoning is ten times harder! Muggles are always adding extra knobs and buttons to things as if they were trying to decorate stuff instead of using it."

Colin snorted.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "It's true that some of our technology is a puzzle even to the average person; and over most of the time I don't even realize that I'm not using a pen or flipping a light switch. But while the idea of using a quill and parchment is almost romantic, it's no fun when your quill runs dry or spurts ink all over the place."

"Or when the inkpot falls and stains your bag," added Colin.

"It was kind of nice not having a temperamental owl pecking me on the face," Harry admitted. "Not that I got much post, anyway."

Ron shook his head. "You lot sound like my father; obsessing over park slugs and the like."

"You mean spark plugs?" Hermione asked.

"Are you talkin' about magic versus Muggle?" Seamus inquired, abruptly jumping in the conversation.

Lark nodded, blushing a little.

"Ah, I know the feeling; me dad's a Muggle," he told her.

"I know," she said.

Ginny couldn't help but grin at her friend who was now engaged in conversation with Seamus.

"But we've gone completely off topic," Ron announced to the few people who were not immersed in conversations on the convenience of toaster ovens. "Ginny hasn't said anything about her heart to heart with Malfoy."

Ginny growled silently before speaking. "It was…"

"It was…?" Hermione asked.

"Fine!" she said mock-brightly. "Really…swell…" 'Swell?' she asked herself despairingly. "I mean, it was pretty much just an introduction…to…to…what we would be doing…later…" she finished lamely.

"Do you have a supervisor?" Harry asked a bit concernedly.

"Yes! Her name is Professor Martin."

"Oh…" Harry said peeking at Ron. He began fixing his glasses.

"Oh…" said Ron trying to look anywhere but at Harry. He looked as if he would explode if he did.

"What do you mean 'oh'?" Hermione snapped.

"Nothing…" Ron said. "It's nothing."

"She has dark-hair, right?" asked Seamus. "And an accent?"

Ginny nodded slowly. "So?"

Seamus popped his head in once more, grinning madly at his fellow seventh-year men. "We've seen her around somewhere; half of our year thinks she's a bit of a dish!"

Ginny let out a shout of uncontrollable laughter, as did Lark and Colin.

Harry was grinning shyly and Ron's ears were becoming redder by the minute.

Hermione sniffed with indignation. "I would hope that her counsel was more impressive than her appearance!"

Ron looked as if he was about to comment on that, but at the glare Hermione sent him, he thought better of it.

Chuckling gently, Ginny looked around the Great Hall where her eyes came to rest on the Slytherin table. Feeling a little paranoid she searched for a head of blond hair, but didn't find it.

'Relief,' she thought. 'For now.'

Despite the events of the previous day, Ginny enjoyed a restful night of sleep and woke up feeling only a little groggier than usual.

After going through the motions of the day (classes; arguing with Colin; and avoiding the Slytherin death glares that Lark had informed her of), Ginny found herself watching the minutes and seconds tick away on the clock in the Great Hall at lunch. She would wait until it was absolutely necessary for her to get there on time, and not a minute later. After feeling momentarily guilty that she might have been keeping Professor Martin waiting, Ginny consoled herself with the thought that the professor had not informed her of a precise time that she should be in the little room. Ginny assumed that Professor Martin expected them to watch the time during lunch and when the half mark was approaching to get ready.

And she was getting ready. Really.

Looking at the doors, Ginny braced herself and began to stand, but a dark robe darkened her vision and then passed by just as quickly; she scowled when she saw who it was.

Draco left through the heavy double doors without sparing Ginny a moment's notice. Apparently he was already on his way.

Feeling Colin's eyes on her, Ginny turned to him questioningly.

"Shouldn't you be…you know, going?" he asked.

Ginny sighed heavily. "I suppose so."

When Ginny stood up, Ron shouted, "Give him hell!" and then returned to his conversation with Harry and Hermione.

"We'll see you later," Lark assured.

Ginny gave them a smile and left.

Trying to see if she could remember the way to the room, Ginny listened for Draco's footsteps, but heard none.

'He's in a hurry to get this over with,' she thought grudgingly. 'Well, he's not the only one.'

But when Ginny entered the room, she noticed that was not the case.

Professor Martin was sitting serenely in her chair, seemingly deep in thought when Ginny entered the room. Draco was nowhere in sight.

"Sorry if I'm a little late today," she said walking in. She glanced at the chair that Draco had been sitting in before, and looking a bit longingly at the one by the window.

"You may sit anywhere you want to, you know," said Professor Martin hospitably.

Ginny nodded and walked over to the window.

"Is Mr. Malfoy running late as well?" the older woman asked.

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't know. Don't be surprised if he doesn't come." The professor appeared baffled so Ginny elaborated.

"I saw him leave the Great Hall, but he's obviously not here; he must have gone somewhere else."

"He couldn't have gotten lost?"

Ginny snorted. "Lost Little Malfoy."

"I suppose not, then…"

There was an awkward silence.

"Why did you come?" Professor Martin asked.

Ginny looked out the window and thought for a moment, fidgeting with her hands. As her gaze was averted, Ginny did not see Professor Martin stiffen slightly when she heard a noise at the door.

"If it makes you more comfortable," she said smiling, "you may lie down."

Ginny smiled a bit, closed her eyes and acquiesced.

"So why did you come?" the professor repeated.

"I don't know…" Ginny said. "To apologize, I suppose."

"To whom: Me? Mr. Malfoy?"

"Not to Malfoy," Ginny said fervently.

Coming forward, Professor Martin asked Ginny the same question that she had asked Draco the following day.

"What do you think of Mr. Malfoy?"

Leaving the Great Hall, Draco started to walk for the room where the sessions were to be held. He walked purposefully at first, the anger building up inside of him the more he thought about Ginny.

The previous day, following the disastrous session, he had gone straight to the Owlery to send a letter to his father – to give his own version of events before Ginny told her head of house. But in his haze of fury, he came to realize that that was something he would expect of a Weasley, not a Malfoy: to run and tell Daddy that he was upset. Feeling infinitely frustrated, he had thrown the feed bowl for the owls onto the ground and then given it one last kick.

Drawing his mind away from the day before, Draco realized that he was letting his anger get the better of him, and took a small detour to a large window that overlooked the grounds. If he even decided to go to the session that day, the room was not too far away.

He was in a scenic area of the castle and tried to find import in the boring, grassy expanse so that he would calm down. He wished that he could be out flying, not being tortured with a girl he hated – a girl he hadn't known he had hated so much, until a few days ago.

Taking a few steadying breaths, he went on to the room, only to find that Ginny was already there, lying back on the couch, her eyes closed. Unbidden, images from the previous day came to him.

...He had come early, wanting to get it over with. When he exited the Great Hall he'd gone to Dumbledore's office, but the gargoyle did not spring alive for him.

"Foggy old –"

Draco stopped cursing the headmaster when he saw a large owl greeting him. Pulling the note from its claw, he read it quickly and followed it until it led him to a small room. After he entered it, the owl gave a little hoot! and flew back out the door.

Draco shrugged and continued his exploration. He sat on the sofa nearest to the window, looked outside, and then feeling ansty, he stood up again. Noticing that there was a little door in a corner of the room, he walked over to it and went inside. It was only a lavatory; the customary crème tiles with gold plating on the washstand and handtowel rung. He sniffed with disappointment – it seemed larger from the outside.

The main door shut loudly and Draco almost started. Peeking out of the loo, he looked and saw her spread out on the couch.

Her forehead was slightly creased he noticed; she must have been frowning – it was difficult to tell when she upside down. But she wiggled to settle herself into the sofa more and then smiled.

Draco let his eyes travel down to her closed eyes; he wasn't sure what color they would be and he found himself wanting her to open them. Her eyelashes moved and he saw that she had a few freckles under them, although not as many as her brother. When her lips tilted upward in a pleased smile, he licked his own unconsciously, wondering…

Draco had snapped himself back to the present.

'What exactly was I wondering?' He'd asked himself grumpily.

Deciding that she had had enough fun, he pushed the door open and walked out.

"It took you long enough to get here," he'd said.

She'd told him that she wanted to avoid him for as long as possible, and he was going to tell her what he thought of her exactly, until he noticed that the strange owl was sitting on the table and doing something odd.

It had all gone downhill from there...

Draco peered inside the small window on the door and removed his hand from the doorknob.

He had planned on going inside and giving Weasley hell from the get-go. But when he saw her reclining on the couch in a pose almost identical from the previous day, and heard what she was saying, he froze in his tracks.

"What do you think of Mr. Malfoy?" he heard Professor Martin say.

Ginny snorted.

"I think that he's an arrogant bastard – er…sorry," Ginny said.

Professor Martin waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. Just don't make a habit of it."

The redhead nodded. "Right. Anyway, I think he's repulsive and hateful in every possible way."

'You're no ray of sunshine yourself, Weasley,' Draco thought angrily.

"Only a Malfoy would go around trying to make people as miserable as possible because he's miserable himself. Before I even met him, he antagonized me, you know." Ginny sighed. "And I suppose that I should make allowances for him because of the family that he comes from, but I can't. If he even showed a sign of humanity other than pleasure, I might consider it. Because the only pleasure he gets is from people's pain. It's disgusting."

Draco stood stock-still.

How dare she? How dare she presume to know anything about him?

She was the one that started the whole thing, by hitting him. Just thinking about that day made Draco want to hex her in the worst way possible. In the hall that day, after she had hit him, for the quickest of seconds, Draco had envisioned Ginny's long, red hair as long and blond. Her eyes turned blue flecked with bits of ice, and her scorning voice had been one he knew very well.

Some part of Draco knew that it was irrational to compare Ginny Weasley to Lucius Malfoy, but for just a moment, they were almost the same person…at least, she was just as worthless. And the fact that she came from a family that was at the bottom of the bloody barrel, and that she had dared to touch him, infuriated him beyond what he thought possible.

Any alien feelings that had surfaced in those few moments when he had seen her alone evaporated. Any imagery of her hair spilling all around like rivulets of ruby and bad poetry were Banished far, far away.

As he let go of the doorknob and walked away he thought of the only thing that was certain to him.

He would not make the sessions easy for her.

Towards the end there was a lot of P.O.V. switching. I hope it wasn't confusing - please tell me if it was.

- Femme