He wasn't even supposed to be playing, let alone saving one of his enemies. He had better things to be doing. More important things. Urquhart had been injured in a Potions accident and Draco had been asked to fill in for him. Despite his best efforts of trying to shrug off the responsibility, Urquhart had bribed him into playing Seeker in the game against Gryffindor, so Draco obliged.
He was hovering about, looking around for the Snitch so he could catch it quickly and get back to what he was supposed to be doing. This is stupid. And pointless. He found himself thinking as the Snitch alluded his vision after a brief flash once again. A year ago he would have been flying above the game, zooming past Potter and hissing promises of defeat and embarrassment. A year ago he never would have hated being on his broom, out in the beautiful sun. A year ago he wouldn't have been plotting murder.
He saw another flash from the corner of his eye and the Snitch flitted in and out of the glaring sunlight. He was about to casually move over in that direction when the girl, that Weasley, zoomed around him. She had the Quaffle.
She was bent low on her broom, hugging the ball to her chest protectively, determined only on getting to the Slytherin goalposts. She didn't see Crabbe flying closer and swinging his back. She didn't see how he hit the Bludger dead on, and she didn't see it hurtling menacingly towards her.
She wasn't expecting it to hit her arm and send her flying off her broom. Draco looked down. She was a good fifty feet above the ground.
He glanced to his left and right. Everyone else was so far away. Her teammates began flying to her rescue. He knew they'd never make it in time.
Giving a growl of frustration as he finally sighted the Snitch not ten feet away from him, Draco brought his broom into a dive and grabbed the girl's flailing arm. A horrendous POP reached his ears, and the Weasley cried out in pain. He lowered her to the ground slowly, gently dropping her when her feet touched the green grass.
She crumbled to her knees, holding her arm as she had the Quaffle just moments before, protectively against her chest. He saw a tear fall from her eye and hopped off his broom, moving over to her.
He reached out to her and, seeing this, she cringed backwards. "Don't touch it! Don't touch it! Don't touch it!" she cried hysterically.
He scowled at her as her teammates landed around her. "Calm down, Weasley." He touched her injured arm gingerly, inspecting it with another scowl at the silly girl. "It's only dislocated. That can be healed in a second."
"But it hurts!" she pulled away again, and Potter landed next to her.
"Gin! Are you alright?"
She glanced at Draco before turning to him. "I'm fine, it's only dislocated."
Harry called Hooch over, signaling a time out. "She needs the Hospital Wing. We can't play with only two chasers."
Hooch looked over the girl before turning back to Potter, a look of resigned regret on her face. "You realize that means surrendering the game."
Potter nodded with downcast eyes, and Draco stepped in.
"No! I consent. We'll reschedule."
All eyes turned to him, and Potter frowned, cocking his head in confusion.
He locked eyes with his nemesis, sneering. "When we beat you it's going to be because our team is better, not on some technicality."
Potter nodded, turning to Ginny. "Let's go."
Gryffindor team exited the pitch, two others escorting the Weasley girl to the Hospital Wing. Hooch flew up to the commentator and announced the rescheduling.
His House hadn't been happy with his decision at giving the Gryffindors another chance to beat them, but he'd explained dully that he wasn't even close to finding the Snitch, and lying through his teeth the whole time.
Urquhart was released from the Hospital Wing two days later, so things went back to the way they were before; Draco got back down to business, barely sleeping and hardly eating anything and everyone left him alone. Well, almost everyone.
It was the Weasley girl, Ginny. She'd tried to contact him with annoying persistence since the incident, and Draco had done all he could to avoid her. She had followed him here to the library, where he was browsing through a book and trying to ignore that she was standing five feet away from him, staring. He'd almost felt relieved as she walked past him, turning around the corner, until she spun around and faced him.
---Heeeeere's Ginny!---
He'd been avoiding her, and she knew it. She had thought absently about sending him an owl, but knew that the talk was probably better in person.
She hadn't expected him to be in the library, and when she entered the aisle to look for a book for her essay she watched him closely, almost surprised that he hadn't turned around and walked away the very moment she stepped in.
He's right there, not moving. Just go talk to him! Her brain was screaming at her to get moving before she lost this golden opportunity—when else was she able to have him cornered? It wasn't getting him alone that was the problem; it was getting the boy to stay put.
Ginny had realized, with an alarming suspicion and uneasiness, that he was no longer flanked by his goons everywhere he went. In fact, everywhere he went he wasn't flanked by anyone. Not even Parkinson.
It wasn't like this at the beginning of the year…Ginny recalled as she thought back on how Malfoy had laughed along with his cronies, telling the story of how he'd broken Harry's nose. She felt a surge of resentment at this memory, but pushed it from her mind. It was a month or so in that she'd noticed the change in the Slytherin. He didn't bother her, or Harry for that matter. He didn't sneer at her and make stupid jokes about her family, and though she realized that for the most part he'd never really had it out for her, he'd never passed up an opportunity to embarrass her.
He appeared scrawnier than he normally was. Ginny hated the boy, but had to admit with her friends that four years of Quidditch had been extremely kind to the boy. But now he was lanky, and sickly looking. Faint circles had appeared under his eyes, giving Ginny the impression that he hadn't been sleeping, and as the weeks went on the circles got darker, his body got leaner, and the boy got quieter, more distant. Ginny's perceptive nature told her that there was something big going on with the arrogant prat, and her kind heart had forced a sense of pity to form for him.
Ginny knew she was staring, and she knew that he knew that as well, but he didn't turn to her and question her about taking a picture, or ask if she'd formed some kind of hopeless crush on him: further evidence that he wasn't his normal self.
She forced her feet to move and mentally kicked herself as she walked right past him and disappeared around the corner. She was finally able to bridge the brain-to-limbs gap that had formed and dodged back around the corner, finally facing him. Why was it so hard?
"We have to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about," his voice was quiet, almost raspy from not speaking. He didn't face her.
That's why it's hard.
"Yes, we do. I…never got the chance to thank you."
He turned to her, his fingers still turning pages of the book he was holding. "For dislocating your arm from your shoulder?"
She scowled at him. "You and I both know that the injury would have been far worse if you hadn't caught me. I owe you my life."
He shook his head, his eyes returning to the text in front of him. "You owe me nothing."
She placed a hand on the book, pushing it down. He raised his eyes to her. They were distant, and empty. The dark circles under his eyes had deepened, almost giving him a resemblance to a raccoon instead of a ferret. "Look. I know you only went after me because everyone else was too far away. I'm not a fool. I know if the circumstances had been different you wouldn't have moved an inch, unless it was the Snitch you were after, but circumstances weren't different, and you did move, and you still didn't have to."
When he didn't respond to this little speech, Ginny forced more words from her brain to her mouth, hoping she didn't sound incredibly foolish in the process. "I'm in your debt."
He shook his head again. "I don't want you in my debt."
"I don't want to be in your debt," she responded honestly. In the debt of a Malfoy. The possibilities were sickening, and frightening, and Ginny damned her Gryffindor honor to hell before realizing that things were different, because the Malfoy before her wasn't interested in the things he was last year.
"I don't want anything from you."
"Well, I'm still in your debt. Think of something already, so we can get this over with and things can go back to normal."
"What is normal, exactly?" he snapped the book shut. Ginny caught a glimpse of the cover before he dropped his arm to his side. The World of Magical Furniture. "Just forget about it, Weasley. I know it's difficult for a hard-headed Gryff such as yourself, and being a Weasley to boot, but try to pretend it didn't happen."
He walked away from her then, and Ginny could only hope that he'd change his mind and just think of something, because she hated feeling like she owed the stupid git.
She didn't realize that when he did think of something, what he had in mind for her was practically a fate worse than death.
---Dun dun dun---
He'd mulled over what the girl had said to him. Did she realize what she was offering? In the debt of him, Draco Malfoy. The possibilities were endless, but the things he thought of didn't interest him at all. He was only interested in one thing now, and that was the mission before him.
That's when it had hit him, two days after their little tête-à-tête in the library. He was pushing the eggs around on his fork with disinterest, cursing that stupid book for being so pointlessly unhelpful when an idea struck him. The best idea he'd had in months, actually. He looked over to the Gryffindor table.
She was there, and she was looking at him. Again. She looked a little surprised to be meeting eyes with him, raising her eyebrows before giving him a level, searching stare. Draco took a deep breath, rolling his head and casually glancing to the doors before meeting her gaze once again. He then stood and made his way out of the Great Hall, leaving his untouched plate full of food behind him.
The doors opened a few minutes later and the girl came out, searching tentatively for him. He melted away from the shadows, clearing his throat. She spun around.
"Decide on something, did you?"
He nodded, motioning for her to follow him. They walked up seven flights of stairs silently. He was glad that the girl didn't feel the need to ask him any questions. She was patiently awaiting his verdict, and he liked that. He liked patient people, despite being adversely so himself.
He stopped in front of a blank stretch of wall, turning to face the littlest Weasley. He knew she'd been here before. He knew what was running through her mind; he could see it in her eyes.
She glanced at the wall, then back to him, straightening herself to full height in the process. She held her head high, almost haughtily, standing in silence before him.
"You're in my debt," he started. She nodded. "And you want out of it." She nodded again. He glanced at the wall where a door had appeared. "And you give me your word that you'll do whatever I ask of you."
His eyes searched her own, and found her hesitation. Silence ensued for a few minutes. Come on you stupid girl, he urged her mentally, stop thinking that and agree already!
She nodded, still hesitantly.
"You realize that once you enter this room you can't back out again. You're stuck with me until it's finished, got it?"
She nodded, and he turned to open the door.
---Poor Ginny---
She'd been watching him at breakfast, almost surprised that he'd even showed up. Sometimes he didn't come to the meals. She studied him as he stared down at his plate. She watched him since he'd entered, and not once did she see him raise his fork to his mouth.
I guess he really hasn't been eating…she thought. She frowned at the boy, not paying attention to the conversation around her, and nearly had a heart attack when he suddenly looked up, straight at her.
He nodded to the door, and she'd waited a few minutes before following him out.
She entered the hallway, looking around for him, confused when he wasn't in view. She heard a throat cleared behind her and turned around.
"Decide on something, did you?"
He'd simply nodded and began walking, and Ginny followed him silently. She'd almost asked him what it was he wanted, or where they were going a few times, but stopped herself, figuring that everything would be made clear in due time.
She felt her stomach twist as they stopped seven floors up, in front of the wall where she knew the Room of Requirement to be. It knotted itself nervously as he asked her if she was sure she would do anything he requested. She'd thought about it, and the more she thought about it, the more unpleasant scenarios played out in her head. She finally nodded, as he looked rather impatient and she just wanted to get everything over with.
"You realized that once you enter this room you can't back out again. You're stuck with me until it's finished, got it?"
She nodded again, wondering what exactly the room had changed into for him. Her heart pounded as he reached for the knob.
As if in slow motion, Ginny watched the hand of Draco Malfoy rest upon the doorknob, turning it slowly, stretching out her uncertainty and worst fears.
But he didn't open the door right away. Instead, he paused, turning his head back to her once more.
"And get those filthy thoughts out of your head. I know what you're thinking, at that's not it."
She breathed a small sigh of relief as he threw open the door and entered. What she saw left her frozen in the doorway.
---Oh dear, oh my---
This concludes the first chapter. Hope you enjoyed. I'm sure you can all figure out what he wants her to do, but review and let me know your guesses anyways!