A/N: all of my reviews asked for this to be made into a story, so it shall be, here you go, chapter two.
A week or two later Ginny declined a trip to Hogsmeade and stayed at the castle instead. Ron hadn't been talking to her, at all, since she had left the Great Hall with Malfoy, even though she hadn't spoken to Malfoy since either.
She was sitting in the third floor girls toilet. Myrtle was annoying, sure, but someone was in the Room of Requirement and this was the only place she could bleed in peace.
Well, she thought she could bleed in peace. She had a pattern, she would make three slices. The steel of the blade was so cool, it felt so good, so refreshing. The blood was so hot, almost searing as it brought release. She had only made one cut when someone stormed into the toilet and grabbed the wrist of her right hand, the one with the blade. Before she could even think the blade was gone.
She jumped to feet and screamed. "WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE!"
There stood Malfoy, glaring at her angrily. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"
She yanked her wrist out of his grasp and backed away, shaking her head in disbelief, tears spilling out of her eyes. "I thought you understood. I thought...I thought...Stay away from me." She moved to leave.
She heard the sound of the blade hitting the floor and the next thing she knew she was walking into his chest. She looked up him and the force of her gaze made him close his eyes. There was so much anger, so much pain, such a sense of betrayal...
He forced himself to open his eyes and return the gaze. She took a stumbling step backwards. There was something in his eyes that shouldn't be there, concern.
"I do understand," his tone was short, clipped, but not cold. It sounded like he found speaking difficult. "And that means I understand why you have to stop."
She shook her head again. No, no, he couldn't be doing this to her. Wait...she reached up and grabbed his sleeve, pulling so hard it ripped at the seem. There were fresh cuts on his skin.
He averted his eyes again.
"YOU..." she started, but he grabbed her hand that was still slightly raised and put it on his shoulder, forcing her to feel the scabs.
"And how does that make you feel?" his voice was husky and sounded far away, "If I was sitting in the corner with a blade, would you let me continue?" He found her eyes again.
She tried to pull her hand away, but he held it there. His eyes were scaring her. They looked too much like her own when she looked in a mirror. She swore they were growing moist as he watched her. It was her turn to break their gaze. "No. I couldn't."
He finally dropped her hand. As soon as she couldn't feel him anymore she just crumpled. It was as though her body just refused to hold her up. He caught her just before she hit the floor and pulled her to him. He sat there with her in his lap and let her cry. She knew she was crying for both of them.