Chapter Five: Questions.
Once again, no one noticed anything had changed. No one noticed she was happier than she had been in ages. It annoyed a little, but as always, she ignored it. The one problem she was having was Malfoy's attitude. Dare had noticed it as well. For some reason he was worse than ever, but only to her. It was as though he had some personal grudge against her rather than just her name. She couldn't imagine what she had done to him. It had been two weeks since the apology so it couldn't be that. Whatever it was was not helping her or Dare stop hating him. Dare had even stood up and defended her a couple of times, and every time Malfoy had just sneered and walked away as though she was the only worth his time to insult.
Eventually the happiness at not being alone began to wear off. It even became annoying. Things were worse than ever with Malfoy and having someone to talk to about only reinforced the feeling of hatred rather than lessen them. She began to hate herself because she began to wish Dare would just leave her alone and stop caring. She began to hate herself because she began to resent his friendship. He knew it too. So, he began to back off, just a little. He still watched how she held her arms and she knew it. He was still there when she needed him. He just found reasons to give her some time alone without making her ask for it. He wanted to help, not make things worse. The problem was that it didn't matter. Any course of action he took would have had the same effect because it wasn't what he did that annoyed her, it was why. It was the fact that he cared so friggin much and understood so well that annoyed her. Now she actually had someone she could let down, and she was doing just that.
At least, she though she was.
Then came the letter. They were at breakfast when Dare got a letter from the ministry telling him his gran had been injured and needed him at home. Why it had come the ministry they didn't know, but it worried them. He left two hours later. He wouldn't be back that year at all. They were going to help him with some sort of distance learning program. Whether he had annoyed her or not he was gone and she was alone again. This of course made her feel even worse for not appreciating him while he was there. All in all, it had been the worst week she could remember. An he wasn't there to watch her arms anymore.
She went up to the tower to think. Once again she was wondering whether or not anything was worth it. Once again she felt like she was drowning.
"What are you doing here, Weasel?" Malfoy had also come to the tower to think. His week hadn't been much better than hers and he was thoroughly disgruntled to find the object of the thoughts he was trying to avoid in the place he had planned on hiding from them in.
"Thinking." Something was wrong. She hadn't answered his question with a question. She hadn't called him Ferret as per their name game custom.
"Well beat it, I want to be alone." He didn't have the energy for any more questions, especially ones concerning that confounded female weasel. He couldn't care less about her but she was turning his world upside down.
"Have you ever wondered what it would be like?" She sighed and he was silent, he had no idea what she talking about. "Flying without a broom, that's what I think, anyway. Flying free, truly free. And that would be it. That would be all you knew." Surely she couldn't be talking about what it sounded like she was talking about. Cutting was one thing, but... "The tower is yours, sorry if I disrupted your thoughts." And she was gone, down through the door in the floor and out of sight.
Disturbed is more like it, he thought. Maybe she had been talking about being a cloud? That was ridiculous, but she was a weasel... She had been looking out and down, not up, though. A bird. She was wondering what it would be like to be a bird. It had to be. She wasn't like him, remember? She was perfect. Remember what happened last time you thought she struggled with darkness. But Dare, no, Longbottom had just left. Maybe he had been there for her when she had gotten back. Maybe he had finally spoken up. Maybe that was why she had been smiling the next day. Merlin! What did it matter? Why did he care if she was struggling or not? It didn't mean anything to him, it didn't mean anything for him. All it meant was that she wasn't perfect. All it meant was that nothing is as it seems. Was that why it mattered? Did he need to believe things weren't what they appeared? Or did he need to believe that good people felt the darkness as well? Where did that come from? He didn't care about good or bad, all he cared about was himself and what was best for himself. She had apologized. No one had ever apologized to him before, well, not without fearing for their lives if they didn't, not sincerely anyway. And he was back to that. Why was he back to that? That had been over a month ago. Why did it matter? Was she giving him a chance? A chance to what? No! He didn't care. No one had ever cared about him, he didn't care about anyone. But he needed to know her motives. She was his enemy and the enemy's motives are important. Only a fool would fail to search them out. All right, so he was justified to pondering this. NO! Not justified, he wouldn't be doing this if it weren't necessary so there's no need for justification. In her apology, was the little weasel trying to give him a chance? Trying to convince herself not to hate him? But why would she do that? Even he would admit she every right to hate him. He started every encounter they had, ever. Maybe she had decided to stop being a hypocrite. Fine, that accounted for the apology. But what about the tears? and the cutting? and, and, and the wondering what it was like to be a bird? Well, at least he knew why this was bothering him so much. He could not, for the first time in his life, figure out what his enemy was thinking. It had nothing to do with whether or not he was alone. It most certainly did NOT have anything to do with whether or not she would accept him and give him a chance to choose the life he led. Well, not unless that really was the reason she was acting odd, and if that was the case, well, if that was the case she was wasting her time. He had chosen this life. Hadn't he? Bugger.
What had she done? Why had she asked Malfoy that? Wonderful. Maybe he would think she talking about clouds, or birds, or, or, or anything. She hadn't even played their name game. Maybe he'd be too stuck in his own world to notice, but she doubted it. Deciding to find a way to stop hating Malfoy was one thing, but opening up and being personal was another. Wasn't it? No, it couldn't be. Not if she wanted to avoid being a hypocrite. How can you give someone a chance to change if you aren't willing to give them a chance to know you? But no one knew her. Well, Dare, but he had gotten to know her before she had been open with him. How come he was always an afterthought? That wasn't right. Everything was so messed up. No one would notice. They hadn't noticed last time and Dare wasn't here anymore. She made her way to the Room of Requirement.
Later that day Draco was on his way to dinner when he noticed the door to the Room of Requirement was visible. It wasn't supposed to appear if it was in use unless you were to meet someone there. He had no plans to meet anyone there and could not think a single reason the door would be open to him. But he figured if it was open to him whoever was in there obvious required his presence. He stopped before opening the door. What did he care if someone needed him? He sighed. Curiosity won and he entered.
The room was stone and felt like a dungeon. It was cold and dark. He felt rather than heard someone in the corner. He turned and saw a red head curled up against the wall. She looked so small, so fragile. She looked like he felt, even though he would never admit it to anyone, even himself, he saw all the pain and fear he ever experienced rolled up into that one figure. Then he noticed it. Blood. Her arm was lying limply by her side and it was bleeding.
He slowly walked over to her. She didn't look up as he approached. She knew he was there. She had flinched when he began to move, but she was steadfastly ignoring him.
She couldn't figure out how he had gotten in. Why had the room let him in? It didn't matter. Those shoes. They looked familiar. This was the person who had helped her before. Did the room think she needed help again? It had never let anyone in before...
He looked down at her. She still didn't look up. He reached out and gently took the blade away from her. She didn't stop him. He was being gentle? How did he know how? He treated her the way he had always wanted to be treated. He sat beside her and said nothing.
She could smell him. Wind. He still smelled like wind. He understood. Why else would he remain silent? But who at this school would understand? Dare was gone. She let him take the blade but refused to look at him. She didn't want to know who it was. She didn't want to resent him for caring and the only way to avoid that was to avoid knowing who he was.. She wasn't alone. She never would be if he could randomly show up. If she didn't know who it was he couldn't leave because she wouldn't know.
Eventually the cuts on her arm stopped bleeding. They were never really that deep. He had understood. He had dealt with this before. He hadn't tried to heal her arm. Magic could do nothing for self-inflicted wounds. How did he know? Did he cut? It didn't matter. He cleaned her arm. She almost looked up at this. His touch was so gentle. She did not look up. She needed not to know. She put her glove back on and stood. Without looking back she left.
He just sat there. He had been right about the scars on her arm, about the gloves. He just sat there. He didn't know how long he sat there without thinking. Not a thought entered his head except the image she presented sitting in the corner. He didn't analyze anything. He just sat there. When he got up to leave he had reached a conclusion. He wasn't sure how he had reached it without thinking, but he had. He cared. How could he hate someone so alone, so fragile? How could he hate someone so much like himself? If she could make it through this there was hope for him. He cared. He wasn't interested in helping her. He honestly didn't care about her for own sake. He was merely going to watch her. He cared about her because he had to, because his fate had somehow become tied to hers. Of course, there was also the incessant curiosity of how the Gryffindor Princess could have anything in common with him. Where had her darkness come from? He was glad she had not looked up.
A/N thanks to everyone who review
bella natty: i like calling her ginevra, ive used to illustrate how no one really knows her.
AnqueliqueCollins: dare is my favorite to write, he really is.
StarryEyedStara, MiKaYGiRl, Nyah: glad you like it