Disclaimer: Harry Potter and all affiliated characters are the property of J. K. Rowling

Unnerved

Ginny Weasley pounded through the halls, too furious to watch where she was going. She barely noticed the irritated glares of her fellow students as she bumped carelessly into their shoulders and book bags; the recently received "P" on her Herbology homework was much more consuming than a few ruffled classmates. The worst of it was Ginny knew she had deserved the grade. Talented a student as she was, she had never managed to quite get her mind around Herbology. And who could blame her, really? What was the point in sitting around watching plants grow, occasionally tossing on a load of steaming dragon dung? What Ginny especially liked about magic was that its effects were almost always instantaneous. Immediate gratification – that was the way to do it, and Herbology required the disposition of an extraordinarily patient person. Neville Longbottom, she certainly wasn't.

Not noticing where her feet took her (and not much caring) the redhead wandered up and down the halls for several minutes, stewing in self-directed anger and irritation. Most of Hogwarts had deserted the corridors in favor of an afternoon revision session before dinner, or for the younger students, a pleasant stroll in the Scotland sun.

Ginny was mumbling to herself halfway down the charms hall when she heard a sudden muffled "thump" that halted her footsteps. It sounded rather like someone had just fallen from a considerable height. She craned her neck around the only open door and scanned the deserted classroom before her. She waited a moment, ears pricked, then scrunched her nose in confusion and turned to go.

Thump.

No doubt, the noise had come from inside this room, but from where? Ginny stepped fully inside and surveyed the area. Desks were set up in rows, but they were covered in a fine layer of dust; this classroom had obviously been unused for some time. A faint streak of light emanated from a dirty window across the room; otherwise she was enveloped in a dusky grey. Ginny squinted at the ray of light, and her eyes cast upon a dark cupboard settled squarely against the far wall. She appraised it for a moment, unconsciously holding her breath. She blinked. Suddenly the doors started rattling and more muffled thumps were emitted from inside the mahogany walls. Ginny approached it briskly, more curious than afraid, and pressed her ear to the cool door.

"Hello? Is someone in there?"

More muffled thumps, seemingly more urgent than the last. She briefly considered the possibility that some poor first year was trapped in there as a result of an unlucky brush with an evil Slytherin. She was halfway to opening the doors when another muted blow reminded her forcibly of the sounds emitted from a writing desk in Grimmauld Place and from another cupboard in her second year Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Yes, Ginny decided, it was almost certainly a boggart in there.

Just as she was wondering whether to tackle it herself or to leave it for the next teacher, a most unwelcome drawl came from the classroom entryway.

"Well, well, Weasley, what are you doing here? Taking a break from licking Potter's boots? Or has your brother's stupidity become too much for even you to handle?"

"Sod off Malfoy," growled Ginny, who was in no mood to deal with the prince of ferrets. The cupboard gave another violent shudder. Malfoy smirked and raised a pale eyebrow.

"Have you got St. Potty locked in there Weasley? I imagine that's the only way you could get him to listen to you babble on for more than ten seconds."

Still fuming from her recent Herbology failure, Ginny tightened her fingers around her wand, ready to curse Malfoy into unrecognizable oblivion. But then she suddenly remembered the look of terror on his face the last time she had hit him with a hex and decided she would prefer another line of revenge. She took a great calming breath and turned to the evil git.

"Actually Malfoy," she said evenly, "I was about to get rid of the boggart that's in there. Or maybe you'd like to do it – after all if a Weasley can handle it, there should be no problem for a Malfoy."

The boy in question glared at her, but she didn't miss how his eyes shifted nervously back and forth. Time to go in for the kill.

"Though it might be too much for you take…tell me Malfoy, what would your greatest fear be?" Her eyes glinted mischievously. "A precious lock of hair out of place? I know it can't be your slimy father getting carted off to Azkaban because that's already happened…"

That was all it took. Malfoy's face contorted with rage. He strode right up to Ginny until she could feel the heat of his anger radiating off his chest. His steely eyes bored into hers, filled with their usual spitefulness and hate. Determined, Ginny held his gaze until he wrenched it away to hiss in her ear.

"We'll see about that, you filthy mudblood-lover. First I'll finish off the boggart and then," he narrowed his eyes maliciously and lowered his voice to a whisper. "Then I'll finish off you."

Ginny knew she shouldn't have felt so complacent – after all, Malfoy was a capable wizard. But she was too busy basking in the victory of getting Malfoy riled up to much care. He strode over to the cupboard and pulled out his wand as Ginny watched, grinning slightly.

"Alohomora."

The door swung open and Malfoy began to back up in panic, abruptly stopping a few steps back, apparently rigid with fear. Curious, Ginny swung around to see what vision was taunting Malfoy and when she glimpsed what it was, all thoughts of revenge were wiped clear from her mind. In fact, she probably would have gasped in surprise had she not been so utterly confused by the sight before her.

Malfoy was cringing in terror, a look of utter dread upon his face. His mouth opened and closed soundlessly and his entire body trembled as he regarded the boggart's form. A tall, handsome, 16-year old wizard with black hair and green eyes was bearing down upon him. It appeared to Ginny that the pale Slytherin was trying to say something, but the 'riddikulus' spell was obviously forgotten as Malfoy's wand was barely hanging from between his shaking fingers. Ginny's eyes widened – Malfoy's face was absolutely devoid of color and it looked as though he was about to go into shock. This wasn't right. She had to do something. Without really thinking, she dashed in front of Malfoy and whirled around to face the boggart.

Crack!

Suddenly all Ginny could see were poisonous green scales. Heart thumping, she glanced upward and felt the old familiar lurch in her stomach as she regarded the basilisk's bulbous bleeding eyes and enormous fangs. Calm down, you can do this, you've done this before. Remember Lupin's class.

She screwed up her courage, raised her wand and cried, "Riddikulus!"

With a daring glance upward, Ginny's ragged breaths began to dissolve into giggles. In place of the giant snake's horrible eyes, Moody's mad ones were rolling frantically in their sockets, occasionally disappearing into the back of the serpent's head. Lopsidedly around its neck hung the purple bowtie Neville had worn to the Yule Ball and its great tail was sporting Dobby's tea cozy. Thinking of how Harry would react to this absurd sight, Ginny released a bout of laughter and the boggart vanished into a dozen wisps of smoke.

Flushed with her success Ginny was silently congratulating herself when a faint noise beside her brought her crashing back down to reality. What in Merlin's name had she just witnessed? Of all the possible forms the boggart could have assumed to taunt Malfoy she certainly would never have expected that. It made no sense whatsoever.

Should she ask Malfoy about it? Rasping breaths from her right signaled that he was still there. How would he react? What should she do? And then again, how could she not? Utterly bewildered, Ginny slowly turned to the blond haired boy, hoping against hope for even the slightest explanation of why he was afraid of Tom Riddle.

Malfoy did not look at Ginny, although she sincerely doubted that he could have noticed anything in his current state. She watched him; he stared blankly at the wall. She made no movement, but contented herself to observe him quietly until his breathing had slowed down and he had loosened his grip on the back of an unused desk. Finally, he turned toward her but he would still not look her in the eye, settling instead for a point vaguely below her nose. They remained not speaking for several minutes until Ginny, quite unconsciously, broke the silence.

"You know him too," she barely whispered.

His eyes jerked up to meet hers for a moment, and then he turned on his heel and shakily stalked out of the room. Ginny watched his retreating form, her mind ablaze with questions. She remained in the room, alternately pondering what had just happened and letting it all wash over her. Eventually a dull throb in her leg, where the desk on which she sat had pressed into her thigh, brought her back to the present. She hopped lightly off her perch and mechanically tread through the corridors to her dormitory.

That night, as Ginny dropped off into a fitful sleep, she was acutely aware that no matter how hard she tried to put the pieces together, to make sense of it all, for the first time in her life she was completely and utterly at a loss.