Flying Can Cure Anything
'Weren't Friday's supposed to be fabulous?' Ginerva Weasely thought to herself as she stomped to the Gryffindor common room, alone. It had been one of those days where everything that could possibly irritate you, did. You know, where you just feel like crying for absolutely no tangible reason. But see, Ginny wasn't the crying type. Not anymore.
Ginny was then suddenly jostled from her thoughts as she found herself on her butt, her bag next to her, and all her supplies askew.
"Bugger," she muttered vehemently, glaring at one of her ink bottles that had rolled all the way down the corridor. When she was satisfied that her ink bottle had been thoroughly glared at she sighed and began gathering her things.
Then she came across her Chuddly Cannons endorsed quill and a grin formed on her lips. The redhead quickly finished stuffing her bag full again and continued on her way to Gryffindor tower no longer stomping, as her idea of releasing her foul mood out on the Quiditch pitch began working prematurely. Flying can cure anything after all.
Two hours later, Ginny was still outside in the cool evening air, furiously pushing herself to her limits, twisting and turning so fast and so sharp that anyone watching would surely become queasy.
Except for the exception in one young man. His cool gray eyes were fixed on the redhead with an intense gaze, looking not the least bit woozy. In fact, his face was twisted into a look of puzzlement, with a hint of admiration that, had he known he conveyed such sentiment, he'd have scoffed out loud only to inwardly berate himself.
The boy then suddenly took to the sky with a grace of his own, a bright red ball in tow.
The girl slowed and paused when she noticed the boy, a questioning and bewildered expression covering her face. But the boy kept an impassive front and merely thrusted the Quaffle at her for an answer.
She deftly caught it and sped off.
For the next two hours the girl and boy flew together, though it was impossible to understand their game. They alone knew the rules, and only some of them at that. At first glance you'd conclude that they were opposing each other. But upon closer inspection, your first assumption would be quickly questioned as in fact they seemed to be working together. They were indeed challenging one another.
Regardless of their undecided sides, it was clear the two were in sync. They moved in and out of each other, throwing, catching, 'dropping', and scooping. Not once did either flier hesitate, not once was either out of step. It was all one vast intricate maneuver. It was marvelous to watch.
At length, and as if by mutual collaboration despite the silence broken only by the occasional whoosh, they stopped. The Quaffle was in the arms of the boy as the two teens slowly made their decent. Both were breathing heavily.
"You are . . so . . slow," Draco Malfoy gasped in between ragged breaths, yet somehow retaining his smoothness, along with his infamous smirk.
Ginny let out a laugh. Despite feeling like her body could just drop dead from exhaustion, she felt incredibly exhilarated. Maybe it was because she still couldn't believe it was Draco Malfoy standing in front of her. As her breathing slowed she replied with a teasing tone that surprised herself, "Oh, and you need to be more flexible."
Draco grinned. Ginny's breath caught in her throat. Her eyes were dancing at him, daring him it seemed. Even after all that rigorous flying she still looked stunning, in that mishapped, devilished kind of way. Her cheeks were flushed, and several tendrils of her fiery crimson hair had escaped the band that held it back in a simple pony tail.
But suddenly she was swaying and Draco darted forward, capturing her around the waist. Her body seemed to have given out. Draco was suddenly stuck with how attractive it was that she had worked so hard and she always stood so strong, yet here she was, still in need of someone else. She had needed someone to catch her when she fell. Although he wondered if she would have pushed herself this far had it not been for him. He shoved his futile thoughts away as he figured even if he had been the one to make her fall, he'd caught her hadn't he? And now he better finish it off.
As Draco carried her to the hospital wing, and after he got over how light she was and how she felt so perfect in his arms, he wondered if that level of attractiveness went for everyone. Maybe even the headstrong needed some help sometimes. Maybe having someone else who could help made you even stronger. 'No, that's rubbish; it is always too easy to become caught in betrayal,' Draco thought to himself, not wanting his whole world to be suddenly turned upside down with the realization that maybe he wasn't, or didn't have to be, alone. Besides the fact that a Weasely had sparked such thoughts.
The bed was too hard. And the pillow was too soft. So where was she if she wasn't in her own bed in Gryffindor tower? Her eyes fluttered open to reveal her answer; she was surrounded by the vivid whiteness of the hospital wing.
"Ah! You've finally woken up!"
Ginny focused her fuzzy gaze on Madame Promfrey, just about to ask her why she was there before the nurse answered her sooner than she could ask any such questions.
"You worked yourself too hard out on that silly Quiditch pitch! I say, that field does nothing but breed injuries," the woman muttered to herself. "Here dear, drink this all up, it will rejuvenate you. Did you eat dinner earlier?"
Ginny looked sheepishly down to her toes that she in turn wriggled beneath the bleach white sheets.
"Skipping dinner! My goodness child! What if you had passed out while in the air!"
Ginny winced. 'Wait. . .' she then thought to herself. "But I wasn't alone. . ." she said pensively, as her thoughts became consumed by one blonde headed Draco Malfoy.
"Oh, never mind, just drink this up and in 20 minutes you are free to go, dear. And you best head straight to your dormitory," the nurse said sternly.
Pinching her nose with her free hand, Ginny quickly chugged down the spinach-tasting concoction. After Madame Promfrey departed she fell back on her bed mumbling and grumbling. "How could I have bloody well fainted? Ugh, can't even take a litt-"
"You were only out there for 3 hours. Probably more by the way it looked," came a smooth voice from the corner.
Ginny bolted upright to see Draco in a chair, leaning back with his hands behind his head. A small look of amusement graced his face; his eyes watched her face turn red.
"I . . . you . . I . ." Ginny stammered. Finally she just shut her mouth. She didn't know what to say so she settled for just looking right back at him.
After what seemed like an eternity, he hoisted himself out of the chair and headed for the door. Over his shoulder he said his parting words, "Don't skip any more meals will you?"
But before he'd made it out the door he felt a warm hand on his arm. He turned his head to meet a pair of hazel eyes. As he gazed into those eyes, he noticed they held not only green and brown, but he also became aware of the beautiful golden specks that danced in the light. He almost choked on his involuntary sharp intake of air.
Ginny stared up into his face, as he was a good 8 inches taller. She momentarily forgot what she was doing as she got lost in the storm that resided in his eyes. When he began to turn completely around to face her with a smirk upon his lips, she was brought out of her reverie. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick. Her small hand still rested on his arm. She wasn't entirely sure what she expected, but she found herself not wanting him to leave. 'Uh, Gin, this is Malfoy. The fact that no one has been hexed yet tonight should be enough to move mountains; what more do you want?' she conflicted with herself.
He looked at her a moment. She felt as if he could see everything she was, everything she was thinking. Her feelings were partly true, as those beautiful eyes of hers were quite simply mirrors of all her emotions. He knew she was thanking him for more than just carrying her to the hospital wing and he felt a surge of something at being the one to help. 'Is this what happiness feels like?' His eyebrows furrowed slightly at the thought.
But then she took a step closer as her golden flecks darkened. "Thank you," she repeated in that same soft whisper, "for catching me when I fell." Her voice was firm, but he detected a small amount of hesitation. She then continued to look at him, her face glowing even without a smile upon her face.
And that was when it hit him. And now he better finish it off.
All these years he had thought he'd run away when it came to it, if he ever came to it at that. But he found himself moving forward and closing the distance between them. He couldn't run away if he tried. Those golden speckled hazel eyes had captured him and he was surprised when he found how much he welcomed it. It crossed his mind that a Weasely of all people just made it even more fitting. Because it all seemed perfectly right. She was fiery and he was arrogant; it was crazy, insane even, but that just drew him in more. His world turning upside down suddenly appealed to him, immensely. His smirk turned smug, and she saw a glint in his eyes that made her heartbeat quicken.
He snaked his arms around her small form and tugged her to him as she swiftly wrapped her arms around his neck. And then their lips met with crashing force.
It was by no means a soft, gentle kiss. It was by no means a short kiss. It was by no means their last kiss.
Ginny vaguely thought to herself that flying really can cure absolutely anything if after the two of them flying together simply one time found them here proved any indication. If they had not been otherwise engaged, a small smile would have crossed her lips at the thought.
A/N: Feedback is a writer's best friend.