I'm baaack! Hehe, I missed you all, your reviews were very much appreciated (however much they depressed me, as I couldn't write). Yay, so a nice big beefy chapter for you all, I know I've starved you... and Draco has missed you as well. I told him he could give you all a kiss on the cheek. yes, the cheek. He is MINE!
Wow, you know, I really love how I come back into this by displaying my insanity to you all. Typical. Hehe, well, on with things. Thank you soo much for being patient with my disgustingly busy schedule (I certainly wasn't Oo).
Happy reading!
"Miss Weasley?"
Ginny looked up from her book, brushing a strand of fiery hair out of her eyes. The headmaster stood near the edge of her bed, a fond expression on his countenance.
"I hope you are feeling well? I've just been to see Professor Sprout; it seems she thinks there might be a certain Albanian herb that is known to seal wounds of your kind."
Ginny noticed he didn't say "obsidian cuts" as Draco had; he obviously wanted to let her tell him herself. Thanks for the offer, but no, the redhead thought, meeting his gaze respectfully.
"My dear, may I be permitted to ask a question?" Dumbledore said as he polished one of the lenses of his spectacles.
"Of course, sir."
Dumbledore turned to her, gazing intently. "How did you sustain this wound?"
Ginny took a deep breath. Shit, shit, shit, shit. "Well sir, I can't really say." She desperately wracked her mind for ideas, stalling by pretending to look at the ceiling thoughtfully. "It might have been the knife I was using to cut up my ingredients for potions." She looked down. "It embarrasses me to say I might have fallen asleep while I was doing it."The headmaster chuckled, but his eyes scrutinized her face closely. He did not believe her.
That has got to be the biggest piece of shit that has ever come out of my mouth, Ginny thought.
"Well Miss Weasley, if you are sure that is how you got this rather prominent gash…" He folded his hands in his lap. "If you are absolutely sure? There is nothing else that could have caused this?"
Ginny felt her stomach writhe. Oh, if he only knew how badly she wanted to tell him…
"No sir. I'm sorry."
"Alright then, my dear. I hope you will see me if there is anything you want to discuss." He walked towards the door, his hand on the latch.
"Of course, sir."
Dumbledore smiled sadly as he slipped out of the room.
In a few days, Professor Sprout had procured the herb, which, by a rare stroke of luck, proved to be successful in closing up Ginny's wound. the next morning (Madame Pomfrey had insisted that she stay one more night), she was released from the overly-sanitary confinement of the hospital wing.
Malfoy had taken no time in assuring her that he had several things for her to take care of, and if she would be so kind as to meet him at the entrance to the dungeons? Scowling, the redhead had grudgingly agreed before going to collect the mountain of homework that no doubt awaited her in her dorm.
"Hey Gin, how're you feeling?"
Hermione observed her carefully as Ginny moved the stack of books from her bed, watching for any favoring of her shoulder or winces of pain.
"Great, actually," Ginny said brightly. She went to dump the books on the table, and then changed her mind halfway. She might as well bring a few to wherever Malfoy wanted her to go, just in case she finished early. "I do have to go somewhere, though. D'you think you could give these to Ron for me? I couldn't finish them."
Ginny handed the Head Girl a partially eaten box of chocolate frogs and swung her bag onto her shoulder.
"Alright, if that's what you really―"
Ginny hugged her tightly. "Thanks 'Moine, you're the best," she said quickly, cutting off any questioning that might have commenced.
With that, she slipped out of the door and hurried out of the dormitories. Walking quickly through the halls, Ginny descended the last set of stairs and was swept up in the chilly dank air of the castle dungeons. The torches burning in the wall brackets gave off a weary yellow glow, illuminating the clammy stone walls. Searching warily for the pompous arse that was calling himself her master, Ginny let her bag slip to the floor next to her, slouching wearily against the wall.
"Ginevra my dear, really. So unladylike," Draco drawled from the dungeon entrance, his face covered in shadow.
Ginny rolled her eyes, resignedly picking up her bag. "If we're done with the insulting of the Weasley? I would really like to get this finished so I can catch up on my own work, if you don't mind."
Draco smirked, waiting so he knew she was following him before he set off down the corridor. "Of course, Ginevra."
After a bit of walking, they stopped next to a portrait of a scantily-clad woman, her sensuous red lips curled in a deathly smile.
"Cubile ab draconem," he spoke authoritatively, smirking as the woman revealed lethal fangs before the painting swung forward.
"Lair of the dragon?" Ginny snorted as they moved into the stairwell. A flight of steps spiraled straight up, the stone stairs carpeted with a rich oriental fabric.
Draco eyed her in annoyance.
"I know my Latin, ferret," she said distinctly. "In case you hadn't guessed, all the pureblood families teach it, not just yours."
"Obviously." He began to ascend the stairs, and Ginny hastily followed him. "But don't think about trying to get in while I'm not here. You don't want to know what will happen."
Remembering the fangs on the vampiress, Ginny shuddered. "I'm sure I don't." They continued in silence for a good amount of time, ascending what seemed to be a never-ending staircase, until Draco stopped suddenly.
"Turn around," he said; the redhead, relieved for a break in the climbing, sat herself down on the stairs. She heard three distinct taps and several mutterings, before a clacking sound emanated from behind her.
"Alright. You can come in." Ginny turned around, startled to find that next to the stair Draco had been standing on, an arched doorway had appeared. The stairs continued up, but he had no doubt already gone through.
Slinging her bag back over her shoulder, Ginny stepped into the Head Boy's room. It was lavishly furnished, she noted, impressed. A gleaming chestnut floor was covered by plush emerald carpeting so thick that she was sure it was at least two knuckles deep, and ornately carved dark chestnut furniture was displayed throughout. To the right stood a massive four-post bed, curtains pulled back with silvery ropes, and edges of emerald green silk peeked out from beneath the lush forest comforter.
He has silk sheets, Ginny thought faintly, glancing at the floor-length mirror next to his dresser. Well, I already knew he was a vain git. An immense fireplace sat on one wall, a gleaming coffee table and what looked like a green replica of the squashy common-room armchairs sitting before it. A door to the left of the fireplace looked to lead to a bathroom of some sort, as she could just see gold-veined marble tiles through the crack under the door. Heavy silver-vined drapes hung over a picture window, and next to it sat a small study alcove. Bookshelves crammed with tomes of varying thickness lined all three walls inside, and a black leather chair sat stoically in the very center, an oil lamp hanging from the ceiling.
"Come come, I know you probably haven't ever seen anything this tasteful, but I have things that need to be taken care of," Draco called, his voice muffled by the bathroom door. "There are potions ingredients that need to be prepared for stores, and that pile of clothes near the door needs to be mended." The shower tap then turned on, drowning out any replies she might have had.
Ginny scowled at the polished chestnut door. Trust him to use this for all it was worth.
Glancing around again, she noticed another alcove, half-hidden behind a curtain. In it was a worn but good-quality workbench, with several boxes and empty glass jars sitting next to it. Ginny smirked. She could do this in no time.
Taking out her wand, the redhead stood in front of the table and made a few passes over the knife and boxes with her wand. After the seventh pass, she gave a little flick of her wand and muttered an old family charm, grinning in delight as one by one the ginger roots floated out of the box to be chopped into neat, tiny pieces. She had mastered that trick as soon as she had gotten her wand, after watching her mother do it for so long.
Now, on to ―urgh― sewing. Eyeing the mound of clothes with growing distaste, Ginny frowned.
Too bad I don't know a charm for embroidering 'Pompous Ass' onto all the hems.
Plopping herself down next to the pile, the redhead grabbed the needle and thread he had provided and pulled out the first item, a sandy-colored sweater with a tear in the darning, right along the bicep. Isn't someone Mr. Muscles, she snorted silently, quickly stitching up the hole and tucking the knot into the seam. From all the times she had ripped her own clothing in games of backyard quidditch, she was fairly quick at sewing by now. Even if she did loathe it.
Picking up the next piece of clothing, Ginny frowned at the bulge of extra material in one of the trouser legs. Really, did his mother never teach him to separate his clothes? Reaching her hand into the leg, the redhead pulled out a pair of… silk boxers.
Did he really wear silk boxers? Ginny felt the cool material slip between her fingers, nearly as light as air. Gods, she thought. I am holding Draco Malfoy's black silk boxers―
"Yes, they are nice aren't they?"
Ginny's face snapped up, a derogatory comment dangling on the tip of her tongue to cover up the fact that she had been admiring his underwear, when she was suddenly taken aback. . Oh my. Oh my.
Draco lounged against the doorframe, covered in nothing but a green towel slung low around his hips. His bare chest resembled sculpted marble, pale, smooth, and deliciously sculpted. His arms were very well-defined, not too disgustingly huge, but definitely nothing he should ever hide, either.
I've never seen his arms before, Ginny thought faintly, before she suddenly snapped out of her daze. I hope you do realize, this is a naked Malfoy you're staring at.
"Malfoy!" she squeaked, voice muffled by hands that were now covering her face. She had yet to notice that the boxers were still clutched in them. "You're making me ill, put some clothes on!"
"Well, I would need these―" he plucked the boxers out of her hand― "First."
Ginny's face burned red as she realized that she had not only fondled his underwear ―oh no, it was not enough to simply fondle his underwear― but she had been ogling him like some bumbling lovesick ninny. Urgh tenfold.
"If you're done molesting them, that is?"
Ginny peeked through her fingers, making sure he wasn't naked or anything equally horrid before she tentatively removed her hands from her bright red face.
"I was not… molesting your― your― who even has silk boxers, anyway?" she cried desperately, though the insult sounded wanting even to her ears.
"People who actually give a damn about what touches their royal asses," he retorted snootily. "Now I'll have to wash these, you know. You've soiled them with Weasley taint."
"Oh, don't worry, I didn't touch them. They did need quite a bit of taking in in the front, though; I noticed you did't need much room there." Ginny easily slipped back into Malfoy-sparring mode.
Now, at least, she knew what she was supposed to be feeling.
Malfoy sent for her nearly every night after that, leaving her with a list of menial tasks before going off to finish his own homework or simply laze on his magnificent bed, ordering her about and taking great joy in watching her perform his chores. After a while, Ginny found that it was easier to take her books with her and do her homework between chores, while ignoring Malfoy.
Occasionally, he would leave her alone in the room, and it was during these times that she would take the Restricted Section tome out of her bag, keeping the illusion on the cover in case Draco happened to show up again. She was nearly halfway through the chapter on summoning demons by now; as she had feared, she would need a fairly powerful one in order to severe the link that still existed between her and Tom's minds.
She looked back down on the page, frowning as she tried to decipher the ancient text.
In order for a sorcerer to effectively and in all entirety actually put a task or calling upon the specific demone which he or she has summoned, he or she must phrase their wording to the effect that it cannot become misconstrued in any way by that of the specific demone. Because of the tedious phrasing of his or her task, it is best for the master to write it down prehence, for if the demone is able to misconceive the charge in any way, it will do so in all and utmost fervor, for its primary objective in its own terrible being is that of destroying or otherwise obstructing the master and his or her wishes.
Ginny rubbed her temples. Lovely.
A word game with an evil spirit whose first plans were most likely to eliminate her.
Curse Tom to all of the seven hells.
Just as when the sorcerer is completing the summoning of the demone, it is most crucial that he or she stay inside the chalk pentagramme until the charging in its utmost entirety is completed. Then, with the final words of finite incantatem, clap three times and step outwards from the circle. Only after this is done can the sorcerer be sure that they cannot in any way be harmed by the demone.
Ginny grumbled under her breath, brow furrowed in thought. This was going to be difficult. According to the earlier part of the book, she had to wait until the next full moon, which wasn't for another entire month, before she could actually summon a demon of a high enough rank to complete her task.
Only a very powerful demon could actually severe a mind link, she had gathered from the earlier chapters. She only hoped she would be ready when the time came.
So?You like? I know I don't have to ask for reviews, you guys are so good about that.
Until next time,
Winter Fleur