A/N: lalala...nothing to say...Linkin Park rules...lalala...Listen to A Rush Of Blood To The Head by Coldplay, great song...fol de rol...ok...to much coffee...I love Colin...I'm done. :skips off to Never-Never Land whistling I'm A Little Teapot:

"-you haven't seen anything odd before you passed out and Miss Lovegood and Mr. Malfoy were, ah, attacked?" Professor Dumbledore's shaky, wintry old voice crept into her mind, shaking the thoughts away.

"No. Just a feeling of tension." It was only a half-lie. There was always tension.

"Are you sure, Miss Weasley? We need all the information we can find. Voldemort is somehow working magic inside this school, as I'm sure you've concluded."

"Yes, I have concluded. No, I haven't seen, heard, touched, smelled, or felt anything."

"Very well. Thank you. Please do not mention this conversation to anyone, hm? Lemon drop?" The old headmaster offered a sticky, paper wrapped, round candy that Ginevra shook her head at. She wasn't the least bit hungry, though she knew she should be.

"It never happened." Ginevra intoned to placate his searching look.

The headmaster left the Hospital Wong with Madame Pomfrey, their voices drifting towards her, their word's unintelligible. Draco was looking at her from the next bed, his eyes trained on the paper she was folding and refolding, making sure the corners matched up perfectly, the creases were even and starting to wear.

"I never saw anything either," he informed her, his eyes penetrating hers as she finally met his glance, her look that of a rabbit or deer about to bolt. He rolled over then, curling up into a ball to ward off the November chill.

Ginevra's thoughts wandered. She absently fiddled with the flowers that overflowed her bedside table. Candy was heaped at the foot of her bed, tokens from friends, admirers, and people aching to know the story. Harry was due in an hour, Hermione and Ron would be with him, blithering on about something or other that was of no importance to her.

That's what irritated her most, she supposed. The way they talked, including her but not welcoming her. She liked to think she was to much of a mystery to her brother and Hermione, but she knew it was more to do with her age, more to do with the sub-conscious fear of what she knew of Voldemort (Tom, her mind insisted, Tom not Voldemort, two entirely different people).

Ginevra wished that she felt at home among her friends, that they would try to get the girl who so desperately wanted to be free of the box she had been put in long ago. But no. Her friends, her classmates, they wanted to know only the facade she put up; they wanted to know only the girl who pretended to be, because that was easier.

With a heavy sigh, she withdrew from her mind, shutting it down carefully, neatly tying up her emotions into a neat bundle as she slid underneath the blue and silver quilt and tried to quell the urge to talk to her enemy who was currently lying in the bed next to hers, not two feet away.

"Gin, I still can't believe you've been right there for Malfoy's attack and Luna's...um...attack," Hermione said, frowning.

"Me either. Streak of bad luck. So damn sad," Ginevra said pleasantly, nibbling on a vanilla flavored Berite Bott's bean.

"I'll say," Ron muttered darkly, touching her hand quickly. "Oy, Harry, what're you doing over there? It's just snow, nothing new to look at," he added, eying his dark haired friend.

"I was thinking, Ron. You know what that is right? It's where you start to sort of chatter to yourself mentally? Oh, wait...you don't have a brain..." Harry said, smirking.

"Oh, look, Harry made a funny," Ron replied, his ears burning red.

"Now, children," Ginevra said, laughing softly.

"Your the child, Ginny, not us," Hermione said sweetly, tickling her red haired friend.

Ginevra suddenly wished her hair was fire, so she could burn the look off of Hermione's face.

"Never argue with Hermione, Gin, you'll lose," Harry said, squeezing her hand.

"I'll just bet," Ginevra replied darkly.

"Will you be able to go to the party Saturday?" Harry asked, lightly trailing his fingers up her arm.

"Yeah, I think so. Madame Pomfrey hasn't told me, so..."

"Ok. Well. We'd better be going, Gin, we've got homework and things to do. I'll come see you before curfew, alright?" Harry said, kissing the tip of her nose.

Ginevra smiled angelically as she nodded, her eyes somber and ecstatic. Harry grinned, threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her deeply, his tongue probing her mouth and yet again claiming her as his.

Hermione hemmed loudly, causing them to separate with a start.

"Come on, Harry, Ron. See you, Ginny," the brunette said stiffly, her cheeks tinged a pale pink as she led her two friends out. Ginevra laughed as she heard Hermione start lecturing Harry on proper conduct before they even got to the doors.

Harry glanced back at her they rolled there eyes at each other, smiles full of promise.

"That was romantic," a familiar voice drawled, breaking her from Harry's gaze.

"Someday it'll be you, Draco dear," she said snidely, not looking at him.

"Ginevra, come on. I saw the look on your face when you two finally unlocked yourselves form each other. Pure disgust. Very well disguised, but I can always tell when someone's being a phony," Draco said, and Ginevra heard him slip out of his bed when the doors closed with a thud.

"Takes one to know one, doesn't it, Ferret?" She responded, blood pounding in her temples.

"I'd be careful, Ginevra, I hold a secret of yours. Two of them, actually. One little slip of the tongue...I think Dumbledore and Daddy would be very, very upset," he whispered in her ear, put his hands exactly where Harry's had been and pulling down on her hair, making her look at him.

Ginevra stared at him as defiantly as she could; let her face slip into the familiar mask of thoughtful happiness. His eyes drew her in, in the end. She caved, her will power ebbing away, her ego taking a beating. What ego flitted across her mind gently and unobtrusively.

Her lips parted slightly as she looked at him, and he bent forward to kiss her. He pulled away when Ginevra drew him closer, and with a sneer he stood.

"You need to tell me your sorry, you insane little freak, before I'll do anything with you ever again," Draco said, his voice hard and seductive.

"And you'll need to apologize for being a git and dance naked in the Great Hall before I'll do anything with you, Draco Malfoy."

Two hours later, when Madame Pomfrey was eating dinner in her office, Draco's pleading voice was silenced by her lips and her need for violence fulfilled by his rough hands, as her tears rained silently down her face.

A/N: Sorry it's short, but the next bit fit better in the fourth chapter.