+Chapter Six+
First Flicker
sorry about this title...i've realized, you know, it has nothing to do witht he chapter...huh
Ginny, aimlessly mixing her peas with her mashed potatoes, was telling herself that she wasn't avoiding being alone in the room with Malfoy again, of course she wasn't avoiding him and the subject of Death Eater's and the possibility of see the doors creak open again, only to have a good slam shut. She was only, Ginny told herself, enjoying a nice, long dinner. Hermione glanced up and about for a floating clock and sighed to Harry,
"I bet they're all floating along in the outside hall, right now, Harry. I swear, you can't depend on any device that floats." Harry, quite used to this on nights of Prefect meetings, lifted his left arm slightly in the air and turned it so the palm of his hand was facing him, still reaching for a treacle tart with his free hand. Putting down her fork, Ginny sighed. She wasn't exactly looking forward to having to "have a part in the preparation" of the Christmas Ball. Hermione only pretended to need to see a clock (right now she was taking Harry's wrist into her hands and turning her head slightly to read the watch) when she already knew exactly what time it was, so Ginny took a last sip of her cold apple cider and was ready to go just as Hermione released Harry's arm, practically beaming.
"Ginny, isn't this going to be great? I think maybe the theme could do with improving, but Hogwart's is going to have a Christmas Ball! And we get to help plan it!" Ginny resisted a frown. None of them had mentioned last night and seemed to be specifically avoiding anything that might let either of them think of it. Hermione ignored Ron's grumble and Harry's whisper to him, standing up and slinging her bag over her shoulder. "C'mon, Ginny, Ronald, we don't want to be late." Ron rolled his eyes, but Harry only shrugged at Ginny, picking up his glass of Pumpkin Juice, even though it was empty.
Leading the way, Hermione made her way out of the Great Hall and towards the Prefect's lounge, whispering the new password (codswallop) and letting them inside. They were, of course, the first ones there, even Malfoy hadn't skipped supper to loiter amongst his books, except for the Head Boy and Girl, whom Ginny had noticed slip out of dinner while Hermione was gushing over the thought that they would be helping to plan the Ball, as if it was a truly wonderful thing.
To Ginny there was something almost sullen about Malfoy as he stepped through the portrait hole, but when she studied him closer all she saw was the arrogant boy she'd hated for about four or five years. Not taking any notice of Ginny, at least not visibly, Malfoy slumped in his seat and scowled at Hermione and Ron, then closed his eyes, ignoring the others as they filtered in from dinner.
"Now that you've all showed up," Melissa, the Head Girl, said, "we may begin. First off, does anyone have any thoughts, ideas and things?" As usual, Hermione was first at opening her mouth to a question.
"Well, of course, we would decorate the Hall, right? And red and green are Christmas colors, but wouldn't that end up representing two of the Houses? Or is it not going to be tradionalistic Christmas decore, but spacey-future colors like neons and such?" Ron stared at Hermione, and from his expression, seemed to be wondering why exactly it mattered. Melissa, though, was looking thoughtful.
"I was thinking just that, Hermione. Maybe some silver and bright neon greens and blues and such."
"And probably lots of tinsel," Hannah Abbott offered, "if it's pretty much the colors you just said. The tinsel would keep a Christmas spirit, but the colors and the way we could design could add to the future theme."
"Good, good," The Head Girl murmured, scratching away on a piece of parchment. "Anyone else?" The meeting went on like this, and even Ginny and Ron both made minor contributions.
"Keep quiet," The Heady Boy warned them, about to follow the Head Girl out, the meeting finally having ended almost a good hour later, "don't tell anyone plans for his Ball, please. We will all meet again soon." He left and the Prefects sat in silence for a moment before everyone began getting up, pushing in chairs, talking to others and pushing out of the portrait. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, Pansy, Draco, and Padma Patil, from Ravenclaw, remained. Padma, who had stayed to talk to Hermione, was heard almost regretfully telling Hermione she'd better be getting back to her House to do her homework and slipped out. This seemed to trigger something within Hermione and she turned to Ron and Ginny, trying to ignore a very upset seeming Pansy who shoved past them and slammed the portrait shut as she left, walking rather loudly.
"Ron, we have tons of homework tonight, let's go alright," she said urgently. "I bet Harry didn't even start! Are you...coming Ginny?" Ginny, who had been vaugely wondering if Pansy's departure had to do with a lazy, unconcerned looking Draco pulling out his books, almost cringed. She wondered if this was better or worse than them just coming searching for her later and decided, almost guiltily, to take advantage of her chance in peace.
"No. It's quiet hear, I'm doing my work in here."
"We could stay with you," Ron said quickly, eyeing Malfoy. Hermione looked at him almost scathingly and shook her head.
"No, let's go Ron," she glanced back at Ginny in an almost disapproving way, and, annoyed, Ginny slumped back down in her seat as the portrait quietly swung back shut. For the meeting, there was one table with chairs positioned around it, and Draco Malfoy looked up from his Potions book to examine Ginny, directly across from him.
She had pulled out her Potions book, too, and was brushing the tip of her quill across her nose in thought as she scanned one of the pages, a blank piece of parchment laying besides it. Her hair, a darker red than any of her brothers, was brushed impatiently away from a face but a lock of it had fallen away. He found himself watching her eyes, he couldn't exactly tell if they were brown or dark hazel, flicking back and forth as they sped across the lines. He frowned at himself and went back to his book but looked up at her again. Frustrated, he said,
"Weasley, why are you here, again? Day after day?" She looked up at him and also frowned, almost sternly.
"It's a really nice, quiet place to work, until you get started on me, that why," she said huffily, shifting in her chair. He sneered slightly and went back to his book, and sighing, so did she, but a few minutes later, she snuck a glance at him. His eyes were closed in a steely shroud, and there was something about them that had her shifting her gaze almost nervously away from them. Ginny then she noticed the look intense seriousness of his expression as he put quill to parchment, his white-blonde hair no longer sleeked back as he used to wear it until somewhere around his fifth year, but grown a little past the tips of his hears and falling slightly, easily, across his eyes, which Ginny lightly avoided. He was built well, and not only by way of muscles and such, but she noticed he had a nice, straight nose, and not the pointy chin she, for some reason, had always thought of him having. A little alarmed, Ginny scratched her nose and tried to return to her essay, which she hadn't really started, and began to scrawl out a few lines on the parchment.
Quite suddenly, the girl sat up in her bed. The light sheets were tangled around her ankles and her neck and back, as well as places like the insides of elbow and knee bends, were coated in a light, cold sweat and as the girl breathed deeply, she swept the curtain of dark red hair off the back of her neck. The other girls in the room were silent but for the deep, peaceful breathing of their peaceful sleep, which the girl sitting up in her bed slightly envied. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of her bed and hopped out of it, cautiously making her way to the door and slipping out, wand in hand.
Ginny Weasley slipped down the stairs and entered the Common Room quietly. At one-thirty in the morning the room was deserted and quite silent, except for the slight cackle of flames as it nipped at the wood. She reached up above the fire place and slid her hands along the slightly dusty stone mantle until she encountered a small stack of parchment and a couple quills, alongside two tiny bottles of ruby red ink. Pulling something of everything down, she curled up on the rug by the hearth, the parchment resting on her legs illuminated in the soft, flickering glow of the flames. She dipped her quill into the ink and began to write, not thinking, just letting anything and everything flow through the quill.
A whisper, a murmur, a breeze in her hair,
Lost in the shade of the oak tree's lair.
Held close, held dear, in the shadows, the dark,
Captured, restrained, prisoner lark,
Sweet sound lost,
Glory gone...
Before poison oak seeps through,
That of weak life's cloak,
She'll sing one last, soft note,
Before warm, sweet blood,
And cold harsh life,
Mesh together in dangerous embrace,
For one last murmur,
One last twist of the kaelidescope,
At the hand of vengeful Fate.
Ginny paused and gazed at what she had written. Always, whenever she woke distraught, she'd follow the same procedure, don't think, just write, don't think, just write and burn, write and burn. She had never paused to see what she had written, scratching of the quill and singing of the parchment, but for some reason she paused. And Ginny's eyes drank in the words her quill had spewed, she was confused, seeing no distinct connection between the two short verses and herself. Hesitantly, she put the tip of the quill back to the paper and let herself slowly flow back into the tradition.
Darkness. Cold. Intricate web of shadows and wood; branches and foliage, shrub and bramble, twists and tangles of vines.
Tensed at the anger of fear, and the worry of loss. Tense. Anger. Fear. Worry. Loss.
A flash of illumination, and shadows leaping forth to greedily devour, biting ruthlessly. Light. Dark.
The moaning of the trees, seeking her, huddled on the ground, and malicious, deathly white spiders, crawling, crawling. Sought. Found.
A flash of illumination, and shadows leaping forth to greedily devour, biting ruthlessly, but assaulted by a flare of resistance. Sparking hope.
Again, for the second time that night, Ginny paused and hesitantly surveyed her words, and involuntarily, a shudder crept up her spine. Continuing, after a moment, she picked up her wand. "Incendio," she whispered, a small, mellow flame appearing at the tip of her wand, leaving the wood unharmed, and touched it to the center of the page until a small, black rimmed hole had blossomed, and then she singed each corner of the slip of parchment, folded the paper, and made her way back upstairs to her dorm. Quietly opening her trunk, she pushed aside a few spare cloaks and placed the parchment in the bottom, amongst many others, before crawling back into her bed. She didn't fall asleep for many hours, staring at the ceiling, and idly counting the long seconds between the light snores of someone lying a few beds away.
Ginny couldn't help but stare. She snapped her mouth shut, lips slightly parted in surprise, and then wheeled around and marched out of the Gryffindor Common Room. She had never detested Mellisa Gnuoy more. She was quite worse than Hermione had probably ever been, Ginny decided, bursting into the Great Hall and colliding with a small paper airplane just about to zoom through the doors. It darted passed her but then turned noisily around, flapping around her head. For a moment, she was puzzled, but then Ginny's hand shot up and she grabbed the paper- it crumpled slightly, and she swore she heard a wheeze from it's folds- and opened it to read the message at its center.
Weasley, did you see the notice? Make it 7:30 sharp, then. Irritated, she wadded it up and let it drop into a small wastebasket near the doors and scanned the Slytherin table, then looked about the Hall, but saw no Malfoy. She seated herself next to a sleepy looking Parvati and Lavender for breakfast.
That morning, discovered on Gryffindor's bulletin board, was yet another note from the Head Girl. The ideas for the Ball were not sharp enough, apparently. The Prefect's were not focusing enough on the planning. Partner's would be working together again, and they would be assigned jobs tonight at half past seven.
In Transfiguration, Ginny was second in success of vanishing her mouse only to Luna Lovegood, who happened to have a knack at Transfiguration, which Ginny had to notice since the Ravenclaw's and Gryffindor's for Ginny's year took classes together. She was just relieved that her year, unlike Ron, Hermione, and Harry's year, did not have to take classes with Slytherin's, except for History of Magic, which did not much concern Ginny, for in this class, it was only long periods or bored half-listening to the droning of Professor Binns. In Charms, Ginny easily silenced her crow, and for Care of Magical Creatures, she was the first to cautiously volunteer. In Potions, she thought her concoction went quite well, Defense Against the Dark Arts slid by very smoothly, thanks to her experiences last year, and after a faint struggle in Arithmancy, it was time for dinner. Ginny thought it was a very good day, all in all, and refused to have her spirits lowered by knowing that after she had eaten, she would be getting assigned more personal contact with Draco Malfoy. It was a good day, it just wouldn't be a good night.
"Choose wisely, Ginny," Ron said, pretending to be very serious and grave. "You will have time but for one treacle tart before the meeting shall begin." Grinning slightly at him, Ginny ignored the treacle tarts and pulled over a small bowl of chocolate pudding. She had time for about four delicious, creamy, heavenly chocolate bites before Hermione dragged her off.
"I wasn't done yet," Ginny said, as Hermione pushed the pudding away and told her that they couldn't be late, but she got up anyways, if reluctantly. Upon arriving, Ginny saw that again, there was one table with chairs all around it; this time, Malfoy was already there, and she wondered vaugely if he'd gotten to the meeting before them, or if he had skipped dinner again. Pansy was stubbornly ignoring him, though Ginny suspected Malfoy didn't mind this much, and had even seated a fifth year Slytherin Prefect inbetween them. The young red-head sat between Hermione and Ron, glared resentfully at Melissa's back, chanced a glance at a passive looking Malfoy, and sat back in her chair. Her good day was taking a dive.
"Weasley, Patil, you are to work on the drinks and snacks available to students at the Ball," the Head Boy began as soon as everyone had seated themselves. Ginny thought this was alright- Ron had always had an thing for food, and while he may be too one-minded to consider what other people at the Ball might like to eat, and would think mostly of what he craved to have there, Parvati would not. "Macmillian, Granger, you pick the songs, bands, whatever, don't make it costly. Malfoy, Weasley, decorations..." he continued but Ginny was no longer listening when he said "Abott, Parkinson...". She had to decorate the Great Hall, with Draco Malfoy. She didn't know anyone she thought less likely to be seen looping tinsel, hanging baubles, or, for that matter, planning any of the schemes with her.
Pulling out of of her thoughts once she realized the assigning was over with, Ginny watched the Head Boy with very slight intrest. He held a small stack of parchment, and handed one out to everyone. Feeling Ron slump in his seat on her right, Ginny picked up her piece and scanned it, a small sigh passing by her lips.
( author's note: just pretend the "NA"s are students names. i have no idea who the 5th year prefects are since the book 6 didnt come out yet ;) )
Monday
Parvati Patil, Ronald Weasley: 6:30-7:00pm
NA, NA: 7:00-7:30pm
Tuesday
Pansy Parkinson, Hannah Abbott: 6:30-7:00pm
Wednesday
NA, NA: 6:30-7:00pm
NA, NA: 7:00-7:30pm
Thursday
Virginia Weasley, Draco Malfoy: 6:00-6:30pm
Ernie Macmillian, Hermione Granger: 6:30-7:00pm
Friday
NA, NA: 6:30-7:00pm
"Oh good," she heard Ron say quietly, and looked up slightly to see him double checking his schedule, and then viewing her's, as if to make sure they were the same. "If Malfoy tries anything, Hermione and Macmillian are coming in next." Ginny tried not to throw him a disgusted look.
"Draco hasn't tried anything yet, he probably won't," Ginny muttured to him. And I can take care of myself.
A/N: sorry that it took sooo long for such a short update. I've been overcome by writers blck! DOn't worry, in the middle of class, i'll supposed to be taking notes, but i'll suddenly have some great ideas for my fic ;)
I promise my next update MIGHT come this afternoon, or probably tomorrow afternoon (todays the 10th), but no later than the morning of the 12th (before class)
There : D, now i'll be forced to get over the block wink and reviews are good double wink
