Disclaimer: It does indeed belong to Warner Bros. and J.K. Rowling. Harry Potter and Co. has become a great hulking beast. You heard me. No infringement is intended on my part. Love and kisses, don't sue me.
A/N: Okay. So, I don't think I write very well, but I get plots constantly. So here goes nothing. A dark fic. I hope you enjoy it. Review please, it brightens my life. Seriously, I live for reviews.
Ginny spat in the sink and washed her mouth out with cold, clean water. There was a loud knock on the door. "Wait a minute!" She shouted. "Honestly!" She heard George cursing and another loud knock came.
"I'm seriously desperate, Gin. Let me in for a minute." She turned on the shower. She was thinking she could skip it for a day, but ultimately changed her mind. As she peeled off her clothes and got under the spray of icy water, just the way she liked it, she heard more cursing. Good.
She took another half-hour and walked out smiling happily as a scowling George hopped foot to foot and glared at her. "Patience is a virtue." She said brightly.
"You are seriously evil." He said as he knocked into her and slammed the door behind him.
"But I look seriously amazing." She drawled. Not that she needed to. She would spend the day packing to head off to Hogwarts. She walked down to the first landing and went into her room. She was pleased to see she had no circles under her eyes as she normally did. She wouldn't cover it up with make-up even if she did have them. She didn't need to. And she knew it. She had gotten to be the best looking thing Hogwarts had to offer. She knew that, too.
She also knew why she had no circles under her eyes. Tom had visited her in her sleep. It had been in the beginning of this summer, the one after her fifth year, that it had begun again. She fell asleep eagerly, yet guiltily, when she knew he would greet her again. Some nights she had trivial dreams about nonsense and such other useless things. Most nights however, Tom wooed and thrilled her. Sometimes he was the Lord Voldemort he had become now, things didn't change. She desired him; she was in love with him. She awoke every time she climaxed, but went back to sleep soon thereafter wanting more.
She had always sworn herself with her family, the good side, and the right thing. She was a carbon copy of her do-gooder parents. But then something had happened; a diary had spoken to her, allured her, and taught her things. Unconsciously, she had begun to despise Muggle-borns and Muggles for their constant questions. The way they didn't understand anything and such simple, stupid things amazed them. She had started to hate Harry Potter even, at first she had loved him for being famous. He could give her power. But then he had turned out to be no different from anyone else; she had realized this and become a person around him. That didn't lure him, and she realized he had no sense of power. He was only a boy only a teenager. She hated them. Never Hermione Granger, however. You never had to explain things to Hermione.
Ginny hadn't known what Tom was doing to her, and she was shocked and hurt when she found out. But not because of why she had thought. He had lied to her, not let her in on the game, the joke. Someone might have died if she had been competent enough to simply be in her own mind and not Tom's. She still didn't know if she would have acted on her own free will under the lead of the young Tom, future Lord Voldemort. He knew her secrets and he had told her many of his. They had been partners in crime, and she had loved it. She always felt that she was more to him than a simple death eater. They didn't know that he had been raised as a Muggle born, was indeed only half wizard. They would care, and she didn't.
She had never been with a man. She always said it was because she wasn't ready, and she knew it wasn't right and it would upset her mother, but she had always known in the back of her mind the real reason. When she was eleven, she was too young to be taken by Tom, but they had shared an indescribable love. She was saving herself for the love of her life. For Tom Riddle. For Lord Voldemort.
She recalled the annual end-of-the-year fight to vanquish Lord Voldemort and take evil from its reign. It didn't ever seem to work, they just had another year to recuperate and prepare for the next year's gala. The death eaters had broken into the Great Hall and Harry had fled the fight to save Hermione, locked in the hospital wing, from Wormtail. She had been running back to the Great Hall, after covering his and Ron's backs, and run face first into Lord Voldemort himself. Lord Voldemort was cool, calm, and collected, he raised his wand to kill her or cause her immense amounts of pain when she had whispered his name and he had recognized her. "Virginia." He had whispered, and lowered his wand. "You have grown beautiful. You are sixteen now?" He touched her face when she nodded. "Beautiful and powerful. You would help to swell my ranks. But I suppose you would want to stand by my sworn enemy and your blood traitor family?" Strangely, he didn't say it unkindly. He seemed to be genuinely asking out of genuine curiosity. She nodded again. "Where is Potter?" She pointed and he moved away. She collapsed against a wall. Finally she was able to say something.
"Yes, my lord." If she was honest with herself in that regard, which she often wasn't, she had liked being commanded by him. Liked that power he held over her, and she knew she held over him at certain moments. And she knew he liked the fact that she could do that, when so many of his legions could not. She knew that she belonged at his side and not licking his shoes and kissing his robes as those despicable death eaters did. She knew she was better than the death eaters to Tom. And yet, against all reason, and against everything she had been raised for and against, she wanted to join them with the lust she felt in the dreams that he gave her to lure her away from everything she wasn't quite sure anymore was right and true. She not only wanted to be a death eater; she wanted to be their queen.
* * *
Her meager possessions barely filled a trunk not even magically enlarged. He seemed to be constantly with her, the moment she had thought that a thin voice hissed that he could give her glorious things. She could have wealth, if only she would join his legions and give him her body and her obedience. She shuddered and she ignored the voice. Hermione's spell books alone filled her trunk when it wasn't expanded. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were all thrilled to be of age. Harry and Ron apparated everywhere. Hermione walked mostly, thinking them ridiculous. She didn't use her magic for everything, but she glowed every time she did. Hermione came in, attempting to run a brush through her bushy hair. "I am so tired of my hair. I just wish there was some sort of spell or charm that would fix it up every day."
"Isn't there?" Ginny asked, surprised. She took a long drink from her water glass. She knew of a hundred hair spells.
"Not for this disaster." She subdued it slightly in a ponytail. She smiled at Ginny. "You ready?" 'Do you see her?' It whispered. 'Writhing in pain, begging for your mercy. Weakness. Punish her!'
Hermione watched curiously as Ginny choked on her water spilling great quantities down her front from her mouth and the glass. She moved forward as if to help, she grabbed onto her arm and Ginny's head exploded with anger. 'How dare that mudblood touch you! You are not equals! Let her feel what you think of her stepping out of place.' She squeezed hard on Hermione's arm until the girl winced. Ginny relaxed, panting. "Sorry. Sorry." She breathed. "Just… uh…" She searched for a reason and rested on a glossy package in Hermione's trunk. "Cramps."
"Damn Ginny. You should take a potion for that. Here, I know a few. I got the recipes from Madam Pomfrey so I could make them over the summers. Repatio." She copied them onto a new roll of parchment and handed it to Ginny. "I don't have the actual potions right now, but as soon as we get to Hogwarts tomorrow. I'll make you some, I swear."
"Thanks." She collapsed on the bed as Hermione twittered out of the room, muttering about some spell. She put her head in her hands and breathed hard. The wet cloth of her robes clung to her chest. She plucked it away and moaned. She was so tired of being poor, of making excuses to the people that she wanted to someday rule. She calmed down slightly and told Tom sternly to stay out of her head when she was awake. She was surprised when he complied, but couldn't help smiling a little. He was back with her again.
She had fought on the good side. She was tired of that, too. The good side didn't have the fire to kill. To laugh as they let their hatred pour through their wand. The good guys got hurt. The bad guys hurt. She had been good, it had gotten her a broken ankle, and last year, a shattered arm. She wanted to be bad. She wanted the Slytherins to welcome her. She wanted to plot, to laugh evilly, and to be rebellious. She wanted to toughen up, get in physical brawls and learn to be quick in providing suffering with her wand. Dumbledore's Army had been all well and good, But Albus was just that, good. He didn't command fear, couldn't convince people to give their lives to his cause. A pleasurable shiver shot down her spine as she thought of the death eaters, and of Voldemort, and the way he commanded them. She wished she could be like that. Maybe Tom would teach her. She knew he knew that she missed him. She had only tried to replace him once.
* * *
She didn't trust diaries anymore, they didn't talk back. She was confused between light and dark
and her parents weren't helping with their constant simpering and mollycoddling. The summer after her first year, she had begun taking long walks. There was a big park on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole.
She talked to the man at the refreshment cart, most days he gave her a sleeve of salty peanuts, greasing the wax paper, which she threw to the grateful squirrels. She watched the artists set up their easels and draw various landscapes. There was one man in particular, his art took her breath away, who she liked to watch. She eventually got the courage to talk to him, and she had quietly fallen in love with him. Muggle, though he was. He was 25, from America. Called himself Rick. He came from New York, which she had dreamed of. His hair and skin were dark. His eyes were black and she loved to watch him brush his hair away from their wet surfaces. He wore paint stained jeans and a navy blue hoodie over various button up dress shirts. He was a math teacher, but he spent most of his summer days painting.
He sat for a long time, sipping coffee from a white cardboard cup, with the bumpy brown slip constantly adjusting itself to the grip of his hands. She loved his hands more than anything. He had broad, flat nails and wide knuckles. They shook slightly as he brushed wide strokes across his canvas with his charcoal pieces. His palms were pale and rough. When he was thinking he would clutch his chin with those glorious hands and leave smudges across his skin. When she laughed he would grin sheepishly and try to wipe them away, only making them worse. She would wipe them away tenderly with her handkerchief and he would shake his head and make her blush.
She didn't tell her parents where she went when she didn't come home until late, but she followed Rick to his studio apartment and had the time of her life. They cooked pasta, mostly, together. He gave her art lessons and wine. She bought a pair of loose fitting overalls and let them get stained with paint, like Rick's art pants. He told her she was a natural, and she thought to herself that maybe she was. He didn't ask whether she needed to home when she curled up on his futon and slept over. Her parents learned not to ask either. They didn't tell her brothers. Rick bought her charcoal pencils and sticks and a sketchbook.
"Whose that man you're always drawing?" He asked over her shoulder one day.
"Tom." She had filled in the strokes of his hair and made him smile.
"Boyfriend?"
"Not anymore." She sighed.
"His smile. He looks deranged. Like he's going to haul off and kill someone."
"Like Harry Potter?" She took a long look at him and shut the sketchbook. She had had Charlie perform a spell that kept the pages from smudging.
"Huh?" She ignored his question and took the glass of wine from his hand and took a long pull. He went over to the counter and filled himself another one.
"Sometimes I think you live in a completely different world, Virginia." She had finished the glass of wine and set it on the floor so she could crash on the futon.
"Me too, Rick. Me too."
The day before she had to leave for Diagon Alley, so the family could spend some time with Harry Potter, he had watched her down most of a glass of wine. "I think I'm cutting you off." He had pulled away her glass. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder what kind of teacher I am, letting a little girl drink alcohol alone in my apartment. My flat." He said before she could correct him. He had accepted her excuse that she went to boarding school, even though most kids from this town didn't.
"Rick." She let the name roll off her lips and pulled herself onto the counter, pulling him forward so her knees rested on his hips. He looked confused. "I've had such a good summer holiday. I hope to see you next summer holiday. I just wanted you to know that I might not be able to write and I love you."
"Why, I love you too, Virginia. You're a sweet kid." He had patted her on top of the head and was utterly surprised when she leaned forward and shared her first kiss with a man more than twice her age. It lasted 32 ½ seconds before he pulled back. His eyes were wide. "I'll walk you back." He pulled on his hoodie and helped her stumble home. She sobered up on the long walk back and blushed as it slowly began to sink in what she had done. And what he had done, too. For a few seconds, before he came to his senses, he had kissed her back. She still blamed it on a little too much alcohol.
Rick had walked her home before, but he had never met her parents. She could see them on a porch about a mile away, but they hadn't seen her coming. She could tell they were talking about what they had been talking about for the last couple of weeks. Sirius Black being after Harry Potter. A follower of Lord Voldemort's? His right-hand man? Well, he'd be a jolly fellow to meet. They came out to meet them in the middle of the yard, to the edge of where the porch light still reached. "Ginny." Her mother said softly, eyeing Rick suspiciously, "You know we have to leave early tomorrow."
"I know. I was hanging out with some friends at the park, and Rick came along and told me how late it is and offered to walk me home. I'm sorry, Mum. The light doesn't mean anything anymore. I lose track of time." She kissed her mother on the cheek and smiled sweetly. Molly found herself smiling, too.
"Well, wasn't that nice of… Rick, is it?"
"Yessum." He breathed. He was acting nervous around her parents. She didn't know why.
"You hang out with Rick in the park?" Molly asked to her daughter.
"Nom." Rick answered. "I'm the teacher of some of her friends. She's a sweet girl. The other girls take art lessons from me and she comes along sometimes. She's very good."
"She hasn't shown us any of her work." Her father finally spoke. Both were frowning at Rick furiously and he shifted his feet uncomfortably. Something finally dawned on her father. "You're a Muggle! Oh bless my soul!" Ginny covered her eyes with her hand and shook her head. What else would he be?
"A- uh…" Rick looked a Ginny helplessly. "A Muggle?"
"Dad. I've told it's proper to say Hispanic." Ginny said through gritted teeth.
"I've never heard that one before." Rick seemed to know she was lying. She wanted him to leave and go inside and be yelled at by her parents. She wanted to go up to her room and think about her first kiss. She wanted to think.
"A school! A school. You must use… uh… uh…" Her father was getting excited and using sign language. She closed her eyes in horror.
"A stapler?" Rick guessed, obviously confused. "Yes, yes I suppose we do."
"And that's to put papers together." Arthur said knowledgeably. "And what is that thing you use to copy paper?" She didn't open her eyes but she could tell he was sign languageing because of the scuffling noises.
"A Xerox machine." Rick said, completely dead pan. He must have thought her parents insane.
"You must come in for a night cap."
"Now Arthur… do you really think that's wise?"
"Molly, dear, please."
"I think Rick probably needs to get home." Ginny said loudly.
"Yeah, yeah, I should probably…" He said gratefully and then stopped at the look on her father's face. "Alright. I have a few minutes." Arthur started happily towards the door with his furious wife in tow.
"Are you sure? My parents are kind of crazy."
"I've never been in your house." He said with a crooked grin. She let him in first and let the screen door slam shut behind them. Ron was beating George at chess and Percy was chasing after Fred for his head boy badge. Rick was looking at their robes interestingly. She grabbed on to his arm to steer him into the kitchen before they noticed him. Arthur was tipping brandy into a mug of tea. Rick took it gratefully and took a long gulp, sitting down at the table. Ginny took tea, but secretly poured herself a little plug to calm her nerves. She gave herself a little more when she realized she was relying on alcohol at the age of ten. Things were going surprisingly well, when Percy walked in and complained loudly that Fred had taken his badge and George had hidden his wand so he couldn't curse him. Rick squeezed her knee under the table and raised his eyebrows at her. Molly bustled off all asunder and allowed Ginny to sneak Rick out back.
"I'm sorry about my family. They're harmless, I promise."
"I won't ask." He put his head in his hands and looked over the property around her house. "This really is a beautiful section of land." There was a loud bang from the house.
"Right. I'll see you around, Rick." He walked away. "I really do love you." He stopped for a moment, but didn't turn around. She never went back to the park.
* * *
If she had to pick two Muggles to stay alive, she would pick Rick and Hermione. She wasn't sure about who she would pick if she had to pick one. She used to play a game in her mind where she would have to choose between people. One would live and the other would die. She usually picked herself dying, and allowed both to live, and she thought this was pretty noble of herself. She wished she could tell the people about it, but knew that it was pretty disturbing as it was. She had told Rick about it and he had laughed and told her she would never have to die for him. She hadn't seen him since that night and she had thought she wanted it that way. But now Tom was back, and she needed to remind herself why she was on the good side, when the dark side was calling her back. Hermione was too close to the wizarding world. She needed to talk to Rick. She told her mother she was going lunch in the village, assured her she was packed and changed into her nicest Muggle clothes. School was in session in the village. She thought she could catch him on his lunch hour, but the lady at the front desk told her that he had just begun his afternoon classes minutes ago. She shrugged.
"I'm sorry, my dear. His free period is in 45 minutes. Is there anything I can help with?"
"No, thank you." She turned to go and then turned when she was at the door. "Maybe you can help me. Which is his classroom? Is there any way I can just observe his class? I really do need to talk to him today." The woman pursed her lips for a moment and glanced around.
"I'm sure that'll be fine. Just sign this and take a visitor's tag. I assume you're over eighteen?"
"Yes, maam. I don't have my ID with me right now but…" She shrugged and gave her a sweet smile. The woman beamed.
"That's quite alright." Ginny signed her name to the line and checked the time on her watch. She clipped the tag to her front and followed the woman's directions. She took a long drink from the fountain beside the door and decided to investigate the bathrooms. She hovered above the seat and relieved herself and let her nervousness subside somewhat. Tom hissed in her ear. What are you doing? She told him again to help her maintain the image she was sane when she was awake and calmly told him that she was keeping her enemies closer. He knew she was lying, but left her mind again, she knew he was there at the back this time. And kept her thoughts to a minimum. She finally opened the door to the classroom and shut it quietly behind her. He was in brown dress slacks and a button down white dress shirt. He stopped talking and his face relaxed with shock. The entire class, they looked a few years younger then herself, turned to look as well. She opened her mouth, closed it, and tried again.
"Rick." She hadn't seen him for years and she could barely say his name. It had been about four years, she realized. He didn't look any different, save a few lines fanning from his eyes.
"Virginia." He recovered quickly. "Won't you take a seat? There's one. Yes, right back there next to Mr. Bode." She took one of three empty seats at the back of the classroom. She watched him, as he tried to not look at her, and was aware that they were being observed like a tennis match. She hadn't learned any higher arithmetic, and found the lesson quite interesting. Mr. Bode, Bobby, as his letter jacket read, was a bulky football player who, unlike the rest of the class, looked a little older than here. She looked over at him only once to find him staring at her. She widened her eyes at him and then blinked a few times, trying not look over again though she could feel his eyes running over her. She stayed seated when the bell rang. And watched everyone file out except a mousy girl with blonde hair who approached the desk. Ginny got closer and sat on the top of one of the front row desks. The girl shot a nervous glance back at her and then cleared her throat and spoke in a young voice.
"You wanted to meet me after class, Professor?"
"Yes, Rebecca. You don't mind if Virginia is here?"
"No sir. Why did you want to…?"
"You're late from lunch every day. Almost every single assignment is incomplete or not turned in. You don't talk in class and…" His voice lowered. "You come in with bruises every day."
"Oh, those." She looked back at Ginny once. Ginny found herself using a skill that she had been given by Tom, she met the girl's eyes and probed into her mind. She slid over glass walls behind the beautiful green of her eyes. There it was. She concentrated hard, and she saw the girl, working after school. Calling in when she couldn't wake up her father. When he was awake, he hit her. With his thick, calloused hands, with a beer bottle, with anything he could grasp and swing. She took it and hid her little brother. He was just a baby and he still woke up sometimes at night. She ran home and took care of him at lunch. Ginny gasped as the girl, Rebecca, broke the gaze and looked back at her teacher. Rick glanced at her once before looking at Rebecca. "They're just from playing rugby. With the kids in my neighborhood."
"Maybe you should spend less time… playing rugby and more time doing your math homework. Run along to class or you'll be late." She closed the door quietly behind her. "So…"
"She's lying." Ginny said.
"I'm not stupid." He stood up and leaned against the desk.
"Maybe you are, that you don't do anything about it. You could call social services or something." She snapped. She didn't like what she had found in that girl's mind. "How did her mother die?"
"Drug overdose. And I will call Social Services," He raised his eyebrows and she realized that she shouldn't have known that the girl's mother was dead. "What are you doing here?"
"I love you. And you're a Muggle." She wasn't speaking to him.
"I thought Hispanic was the proper term." She looked at him as if she were seeing him the first time. "Virginia?" His voice softened and he reached out to her. "Why now?"
"I just need clarity." She whispered, and it felt good to walk into his arms. He smelled sweetly, the same as she remembered him. "Can we talk?"
"Can we not?" He propped her chin up and looked into her eyes. "You're a woman now, aren't you? Still small though, you always were."
"I wish I was just here to sleep with you," A bell startled her and she jumped back. "Do you have some time? The woman at the front desk said this was your lunch hour."
"There's a pretty café near here. Do you want to?" She nodded and he let her through the classroom door first before closing it. They left quietly and walked for a bit in silence.
"So, what've you been up to?" She finally said.
"I'll tell you. It's been a long four years."
"I bet you still thrill your lady students." He didn't answer and she swallowed. "Why has it been a long four years?"
"I told you about Angelica?" A junior he had been in love with, and ashamed of it. But he had told her. "She had to get rid of our baby. I didn't want her to…" He shook his head, his jaw set.
"You…"
"I should have lost my job. But no one ever found out. I can't believe I just told you, but I did. I always trusted you. I'm a right old pedophile, Virginia. I mean, how old are you?"
"You know as well as I."
"Even at twelve, you seemed twenty to me. You're sixteen now. My prime game." They sat at a front table and ordered coffees and sandwiches. He put his head in his hands. "That night. You were so young and you told me that you loved me. And I loved you. I told you so, I know I did. I let you drink and I let you come over and I… I let you kiss me."
"You kissed me back."
"It was wrong." He said softly. "I get normal crushes and such now. Women my own age. But there have been two girls who have always stood out. Angelica."
"And me?"
"You. You always had some big secret. I wanted to unlock your mind and look inside. I always wanted you. Too young you were. Do you still draw?"
"The only time I come down to this village is to buy more supplies. I've dabbed a little into painting. I avoid this place, otherwise."
"That's my fault." He looked at her and she marveled at the pain on his face. She didn't deny it.
"I was young, Rick. I was twelve. There was something that made me age. I know it. There's something that makes me a child and a woman."
"You know it." He seemed surprised. "But you don't always show it. And you were old. I always felt I was talking to someone my own age. But you were young and you were gawky. My body wanted your mind. It could never come to terms with your age unless you were hidden under those damn overalls. You hid the fact you were a child." He accused.
"I was always as old as you wanted me to be." She wondered to herself what made her so grown-up. "Our relationship was inappropriate. There was never anything beyond that kiss. But we desired each other. And that's more than any 12 year old should expect from a 25 year old. But I always expected it. From you, in time, and from Tom. From every boyfriend I ever had, but they didn't last because they didn't have the capacity for being as old as I wanted them to be. "
"The boy you always drew."
"That was Tom." She said softly, she accepted her coffee and sipped at it.
"He aged you." Rick said perceptively. He took his own coffee.
"Yes, and I'm grateful to him. But he's considered bad. And my family is… good."
"What are those defined by? Is this why you came to talk?"
"You wouldn't understand definition of this scale and yes, this is what I came to speak to you of."
"Why do you need to speak to me if this is about Tom?"
"In falling for you, I betrayed him."
"Was he racist or something?"
"You could say that." She nodded and finished her coffee with a gulp. "The only thing is, he's back. And I have to choose. Between good and evil. You're my median. I suppose I was hoping you would say something profound and let me know the way."
"You're not racist. I don't understand what this conflict is!" Their sandwiches came and they were silent as the waiter came and went and both were quiet while they started on the food.
"It comes to racism. But it also goes deeper than that. Into politics. " She admitted. "There's so much gray for me. Things are black and white to most other people involved in the controversy. But me… I didn't get off that easy because on one hand I follow the leader of the bad guys."
"Tom?"
"Right. On the other hand my family holds allegiance to the good guys. And I am defined by my family." He didn't answer for a little while.
"Not to me."
"Exactly." She shook her head. "That's why I need you to help me. Tell me what to do. How can I remain in the gray and still stay in the legions of my family and the bad guys?"
"I can't tell you."
"I know. But I wish you would." She sighed and they both found they didn't have anything to say. They finished their lunch and he paid. She walked him back.
"I still have a few minutes before class. Do you want some closure…?" He gestured her into his classroom. She sat on his desk. He stood in front of her. "You really have become a woman."
"A young woman. I hate to admit it. But I'm still young. You could do to remember that."
"I know." He walked forward and pushed slightly, not giving her the option of refusing as he cradled her hips in the hands that she loved. "But seeing you…" She put her thighs around his hips.
"Love is still love. No matter how inappropriate." She found her breath becoming short and her voice husky. "I've always loved you. No matter what. I will, I think, forever."
"So will you let me…" He leaned in close to her ear. "in on your secret? Can I finally unlock your mind?"
"No." She whispered, and he could hear the tears in her voice. "If I let you in my mind I'll give you the rest of me. I can't do that, I'm not ready. I can't give myself away, yet."
"Will you come to see me more often?" She shivered at his hot breath at her neck, his lips close but not touching the tender flesh.
"Tom was Muggle born. He'll let me keep a few for myself." She said, and he somehow understood and he kissed her. She understood too and realized he had said the profound and she knew where her allegiance lay though she didn't know how to get there.
* * *
Ginny sat quietly and drew in her sketch book on the way. Luna was in with Harry. In love and in his compartment. She was tired of being the third wheel on the way to Hogwarts in compartments with couples or groups of friends that she didn't belong to. So she had stopped pretending and taken her own compartment. She had changed into her robes early on, and had been drawing faces. A new one was taking shape and she didn't recognize him yet. She rarely drew women. They all came out looking like Pansy Parkinson. So she stuck to men, generally. She had a few self portraits and a few pictures of girls from Gryffindor and Luna. She liked faces best, but close behind was the full bodies. Conveying a person's mood in the tilting of a hip of a flick of the wrist.
She never drew people she didn't know. Or people that she thought up. Everyone came from the world around her. Every picture had a name beneath her signature, if she couldn't put a name on it, she had Hermione wipe it clean and started on a new one. She often didn't know who she was drawing until she recognized a feature and knew to make adjustments here or there. This person with slicked back blonde hair was slowly shaping. He had a pointed face and his eyes… she made a swipe and made an impatient noise. It was Draco Malfoy. Oh well. He had been appearing more and more frequently lately. She finished it up and studied the picture.
It was a good likeness. Not the best she had done, but one of the best in this particular sketchbook, which was almost full of Draco Malfoy, Tom and Rick. In this sketchbook she also had herself with a dark mark, making love to all of the above men. Her drawings had gotten more and more sensual as she grew up, but she still favored faces. Her sketchbooks were full of proof of that. And she had many. She had opened a Gringotts account, and every time she made it to Diagon Alley, she put them into the account with all the money she had. She vowed that even if she didn't marry a rich man, or become the queen of the dark lord she would be rich by the time she was out of Hogwarts. The only thing she bought were more art supplies. She let her parents meager reserves pay for the rest. Ginny knew that someday she would rule the world. And she enjoyed the thought.
She shut the sketchbook quickly as the subject of her painting came in with his cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. Pansy Parkinson followed behind, stroking her prefect's badge absently. "Weasel. Out."
"What gives you the right to…?" She stood up angrily.
"I'm a prefect, and if I wasn't it's because I'm better than you and richer and…"
"You always act like I'm proud of it! You think these just bounce off of me?" She pushed her wand up against his throat and ignored the noises made from the others. "I think maybe they've addled my brains. I think I may just kill you."
"You wouldn't. You're a Weasley."
"And you're a Malfoy, whose to say I wouldn't? We're enemies, isn't that what we do to each other?" She saw his eyes grow wide, but was pleased that he wasn't scared yet. He would hurt her if she scared him. "If my family name is the only thing keeping me from killing you, you're already dead."
That had scared him. He swiped her wand away and grabbed onto her throat, squeezing. She refused to make noise. She pulled his arm away instead, he didn't put up much resistance. "You've grown cocky, haven't you Malfoy? Now that the Dark Lord has returned to power."
"Get out of the compartment!" He waved away his friends as they made to move her without her consent. "Get out! Everywhere else is full."
"I suppose you all have been having a giant lovefest in the bathroom, in the time that the rest of us were finding seats." She snapped. She didn't move. "What is the Dark Lord's policy on homosexuality? You're in luck if he's Episcopalian. I myself think them rather wise."
"I thought only Death Eaters called him the Dark Lord."
"You would know. Let me guess what you call him…" She put a finger to her chin and pretended to be thinking hard.
"I certainly know what you call him. Fell in love with the bloke in the diary, did you?" He smirked, but it faded as she smiled confidentially.
"You act as if I'm not proud. And it takes two to tango."
"You… you're bluffing." He accused.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But considering this is the most we've ever spoken, I don't think you'll ever truly know." She leaned in and whispered. "Until of course, we meet again." His eyes widened. She left the compartment. She went back a moment later, but was frustrated to find it magically locked. She kicked the door. It didn't open. She waited outside the compartment the whole way, but was pushed along to the outside of the train when they arrived in the station, no matter how much she fought against it. She saw him with it in his arms and saw also that he hadn't opened it. The cover was blue. A fun charm that Hermione had put on it that signaled when it had been opened by the color of the cover. She sighed and climbed in with her brother and his girlfriend and Harry and his. Her hands were clammy and her breath short. Draco Malfoy had her sketch book, and she had no idea how to get it back.