Author's note: Much gratitude goes to the reviewers. In other news, I'm neglecting to do my homework (against all logic and reason) and am taking the time to post this instead. I should feel guilty. Maybe later.
Disclaimer: I obviously don't own the Harry Potter universe.
Unhinged: Chapter 3
All sensible people are selfish.
- Ralph Waldo Emerson
Upon returning to the common room, I found myself met with three identical stares.
"Ginny!"
It was my brother who turned and rose. I could hardly stand to look at my brother as he greeted me with a wide, face-splitting grin. It was like he had no shame at all. It was like he didn't feel dirty for touching Pansy. My cheeks were slightly red with the knowledge that I had seen him being intimate with another girl.
"Hullo," I replied grudgingly and without much enthusiasm. Ron shrank into his chair and said no more—I hoped he could sense that I knew something, but knowing him, he did not sense anything of the sort. He would probably brush it off as a bad day.
"We found him," Harry offered lamely as I walked past. I did not laugh or smile or show any signs of amusement. I nodded and shrugged in the same motion. Harry and Hermione (and even Ron) knew that the atmosphere of the room was now successfully ruined. I was not so great a liar that I could completely pretend that there was nothing bothering me. Thankfully, none of them found courage or reason to ask what the hell I was so buggered about. Instead, they allowed me to slink away to the confines of my dormitory—which, in fact, was not so solitary anyway. My oh-so considerate dorm mate had decided to invite a few of her Gryffindor friends along—among them, Lavender and Parvati. Their cacophonous laughter echoed well throughout the tower.
"Oh, hello, Ginny—want to join us for a game of cards?" Lavender called out jubilantly. I politely declined (as politely as I could with clenched teeth, anyway) and snuggled myself into my warm bed. I finally realized how exhausted I truly was.
The drawback of going to sleep, of course, was the fact that I would not fall asleep for hours. I knew myself well enough to realize that trying to persuade my mind to shut up was useless. I knew I would obsess over the day's fiasco nevertheless. I knew I would lay awake and wonder how I had missed all the signs. To this point, to this moment, I had not known anything about Ron and his growing friendship-turned-love for the Slytherin girl—and for this, I felt the most shame. Ron, who I had always read like an open book. Ron, my own sibling.
I didn't know which was worse—the fact that I had remained ignorant to the entire thing or the fact that he felt he could not tell me about it. I felt that if he had confided in me about Pansy, I would have been more understanding. I was sure of it, then. I was sure that I would have been disappointed, too—confused, most definitely—but there would have been plenty of me that wanted to help him. Plenty of me that wanted to try and feel what he was feeling. It might have been different if he hadn't resorted to sneaking around. Regret soared through every inch of me.
However, that regret was useless. Now my word was given to someone else. My promise was given to Draco Malfoy, no less. A promise to help him blatantly disregard the feelings of my brother and coldly crush the burgeoning fling with Pansy Parkinson, so that the rest of us could continue living in utter normalcy. No—when I put it that way, it certainly did not sound fair. But I never said I was unselfish. And a very large side of me truly believed that it would be for the greater good, as Malfoy had said.
In the end, I decided that it was a pity—Ron had ached to keep a secret for nothing. Not only was it a not-so-secret, but if Malfoy and I got our way, he and Pansy would be as good as strangers soon enough. He would get over her. He would forget her.
It was all I could do to hope. Shamefully.
I woke up extra early the next morning. I could not fall back asleep, so I showered, got dressed and silently headed out of the portrait hole. A bit of fresh air could do me no harm. Unfortunately, Malfoy seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
"Funny meeting you like this," he said as soon as he saw me, when in actuality it was not droll at all. He fell into my stride and turned his head to look at me. He noticed my slightly tangled hair and the darker areas of skin under my eyes.
"Tired?" he asked conversationally. It wasn't like him.
"What is it, Malfoy?"
"What?"
"You're being nice."
"I just supposed that since we're accomplices now, I might as well lay off the insults until a later time."
"How kind of you," I stated sardonically. At the same time I inwardly shuddered at the word 'accomplices.' "But please, there's no need for that. A kinder version of you would be disturbing and I'm not sure how well I'd adjust."
"I think I've got it figured out, anyway," Malfoy said abruptly.
"What?"
"Why Pansy's been…" He didn't finish his sentence. Instead he resorted to crude hand gestures.
"Whoring around?" I offered with a smirk. Malfoy did not look entirely amused. I supposed that I should not try my hand at humor now, especially not so early in the morn. But I had decided that I would handle this as professionally as I could. This way, my feelings would not tumble into the way of our plans and possibly ruin everything—and Ron would never have to know what I'd been up to. Years afterwards, he would think of Pansy and barely remember the brat of a girl. It was a perfect idea because everybody won in the end.
"As you very well know, she's been a bit brassed off at me lately." Malfoy's dignified voice faded back into my train of thought. He ran a hand through his pale hair, looking thoughtful.
"I suppose it's because I haven't been paying her much attention. These…lapses in relationships happen, though, right?"
"Er—are you asking me?" I asked. Malfoy's eyes rolled towards the ceiling.
"Yes. Even you must have had some boyfriends."
"I have," I replied acidly. "And yes, I suppose lapses do happen, although more often than not, these 'lapses' simply end up in a nasty break up."
"Don't say that."
"I'm just putting things in perspective for you."
"Well you don't need to, alright, Weasley?" He looked like he was on the verge of being angry. It was an expression I was quickly becoming used to. "If there is anyone at Hogwarts who has things in perspective, it's me." As a reply, I simply let out a small snort of disbelief.
"Anyway, I should think that if I show—er—affection for her again, things will straighten out," he said.
"You honestly think it'll be that easy?"
Malfoy looked surprised at me.
"Why wouldn't it be?"
"I don't know—maybe because your girl seems rather attached to Ron at the moment?"
"Don't tell me that you think she would choose him over me," Draco scoffed, as if the very idea were laughable. And it was, in a way. At least I hoped so. Whereas Malfoy had an elegant way about him, not to mention confidence, my brother was incurably clumsy. Malfoy had a reasonable sum of money (Who am I kidding? He probably bathed in galleons) and a name Pansy's family would approve of. My unfortunate brother had neither of those. And lastly, while Malfoy's pale but striking features made him nearly handsome, my brother was only a mass of freckles. Cute, at best, although I suspect I may have been a little biased on my opinion of him. Ron's chances were slim. If anyone had told me, 'Pansy Parkinson likes Ron Weasley,' I would have had a good laugh over it. But truth is stranger than fiction. I am continuing to learn how true this is day by day.
"So if that's the case, I don't see why I need to be a part in any of this," I said reasonably. After all, a very Slytherin side of me hoped I would only have to sit back and wait for Draco to persuade Pansy back.
"Don't try to weasel out of it," Malfoy said with a condescending glance down towards me. I ignored his choice of words. "I'm letting you in on it because I realize now that it happens to concern you. I'll not do all the work." Right. He was just being lazy, then. He probably wanted someone that he could order around mercilessly. Lucky me, to fill that position.
"Fine," I said snippily. The sun was barely up and I was already arguing with Draco Stupid Malfoy. The next few days did not look too bright. It was regretfully that I said these next words.
"I'll aid you in whatever way I can. I'll just be glad when this entire farce is over, and I can go back to pretending the lot of you don't exist."
"Couldn't agree with you more, Ginny," Draco said, looking distractedly out the wall-length windows in front of us. "Couldn't agree with you more."
The plan came together quickly and roughly. Well, technically, I suppose it wasn't a plan at all. Just an impulsive idea, something even a simpleton could have come up with. I didn't even have much to do with it. I simply stood nearby, pretending to argue with Malfoy. Our loud voices carried sufficiently and Parkinson was successfully lured.
"Pansy," Malfoy greeted as soon as she came into close distance. He looked pleasantly and believably surprised to see her. It turned out that I was not the only good liar around Hogwarts. "Haven't seen you around in a while. What have you been up to?" Pansy, of course, did not understand the true meaning of his words. She shrugged with ease.
"Had an extra credit Transfiguration project to finish," she said without fluttering an eyelash. "And you?"
"Nothing really. You know how it is. Same old everyday events. Been arguing with the Weasel," he said simply. He did not afford me a single glance. "I've missed you," he said quietly, before reaching out and crushing the girl in his embrace. My eyes inadvertently widened as his head bent low to kiss her. Pansy did not push him away and Draco took this as a sign to continue eagerly. Apparently, it didn't matter who she loved at the moment—kisses would always be gladly received. I blushed as I watched the rather passionate moment, and turned away. My stomach felt slightly upset, but I reminded myself that this was a far better sight than Pansy and my brother going at it. Much better, in fact. I had a lot to be thankful for.
It wasn't until Draco gave a slight cough that I remembered my role.
"Gee, Malfoy," I said, trying my best to sound reluctantly shocked. "I guess you're right. You are in love with Pansy Parkinson." They broke apart and I found two pairs of eyes looking at me.
"Love?" Pansy repeated, and eyebrow cocked. Draco moved his shoulders in a shrug. Apparently the subject of undying adoration hadn't been a popular discussion subject between them.
"She thought I didn't love you," Draco said with a little laugh. "The little brat refused to believe me, no matter what I'd said. Proved her wrong, didn't I?"
"Oh."
"Well? What have you got to say?" Draco looked expectant. Pansy bit her lip, but the expression that next came to her face was not that of glee. It was anger.
"So that was all it was?" she asked him. "You've snogged me to prove to her that you cared for me?"
Draco looked speechless for a moment—he hadn't quite expected this kind of reaction, being the buffoon that he was.
"Of course that wasn't it," Draco hurried to say. He sounded too desperate to be truthful. "I told you—I've missed you, that's all—"
"No," Pansy said coldly. "You missed having someone handy to snog whenever the hell you felt like it. I'd say that getting arse and loving someone are a little bit different. But I agree that you have proven something here. You're damned good at using people when convenient—always were, weren't you?"
"What—"
Before Draco could get another word out, Pansy coldly turned away and strutted towards the castle. Draco stared helplessly after her, his lips still parted to form the apologetic words that had never had a chance to be spoken.
"Shut up," Malfoy spat at me after he had stopped gaping. I shot him a scowl.
"I haven't said anything!"
"I can tell what you're thinking," he muttered brutishly.
"Then I'll only be saying what you already know. You are tactless. You deserved what you got, Malfoy."
"And just what the hell do I have to do to please you blasted women?" Malfoy cried, tearing at his hair. I almost smiled—he looked so inept, so unlike himself at the moment.
"Try a little something called subtlety," I advised. "I hear it works wonders."
Malfoy, it turned out, was not easily discouraged. By the next day, he already had a new plan forming in his dark little mind. Although he still did not have the concept of subtlety down pat, he seemed to be going for romance. I supposed that either one would work well. Girls enjoyed being wooed, didn't they? I was pretty sure that it was a universal fact.
"The only problem is, I don't know where to have it," he had asked after proposing a romantic candlelit dinner. The idea, coming from his insensitive skull, had surprised me. "Any ideas, Weasley?"
"The kitchens," I said naturally. Malfoy's nose crinkled in disgust.
"That smelly place? It's for house-elves and people like you. Not for Pansy and I." I decided to graciously ignore the degrading comment.
"It's perfect. And it's the only place available, really. If you ask kindly, the house-elves will gladly clear out an area just for you two, make it beautiful, and they'll stay out of the way. In fact, I have an eerie suspicion that they'll want to kiss your feet for asking."
"But it's so…."
"Listen to me for once," I said exasperatedly. "Because for the first time in my life, I am trying to help you."
Malfoy wagged a finger at me.
"No, you're helping yourself by helping me," he said. "Don't think that I don't know the selfish nature of humans."
"Bit of a cynic, aren't you?" I said.
"No, just a realist." He flashed me a quick but cheeky smile. If he had seemed utterly morose only a day before, he was back to being nasty old self again. It was an enormous relief. If there was one thing worse than Draco Malfoy, it was a depressed Draco Malfoy. He must have been cheered by the assumption that everything would right itself again. Hell, I was cheered too.
We continued to discuss the finer details of the candlelit dinner there in the musty, old, unused classroom. We argued and (reluctantly) compromised and then argued some more. And fine—I admit that somewhere between the time that the idea first emerged and the last biting word we spoke to one another, I softly wished that someone would go at such lengths to plan such a fine dinner for me.
In truth, I wished that someone would go as far as fraternizing with the enemy, just to win me back.
